I'm One Too

the destructive power of positive thinking

2009-11-22T15:26:00.001-05:00

now hear me out.

You hear a lot when you're growing up, that makes perfect sense.. life is a series of lessons learned and as the years go by, those lessons more often come in the form of amendments, or even contradictions to ideas that seemed perfectly reasonable and effective at the time. Days go by and occasionally we're faced with challenging incongruencies... something just doesn't make sense, and you ask yourself, 'If all these things are what I thought to be true, then why are things this way? Why is this happening? Why? Why?'

The logical answer, I suppose, is the possibility that something you took to be true in your life's equation, was in fact, not true at all. Being faced with such a possibility can be understandably devastating. It's as if you spent all this time building a rocketship to fly yourself to the moon and realizing, as soon as you lift off, that you were reading the blueprints backwards.

I'm having a big moment. You know, one of those times in my life where it feels like the very fabric of your beliefs, the gravity which holds you to steadfast against the ground, the earth beneath my feet, is crumbling, all around and under me. This puts me in a pretty vulnerable position, I'm sure I'm quite impressionable right now. I'm definitely open to new ideas.

What do you do, when what you were doing 'stops working'? I want to take this moment, to be brave, and re-evaluate. I want to take a breath, and open my eyes. Here now I must step outside myself to see where I could go with this. I could be really disillusioned, I guess. I could give up. I could be in the present moment. Right now I just want to see.

What I see, is a girl who is barely aware of her self-worth. I feel guilty, and my shoulders are heavy with a burden that I am only beginning to identify. I think back, like I have a million times before to the lessons I've learned, and focus particularly the one that I have married my beliefs to for the past few years- the idea that, positivity in one's life is an act of magnetism... that if you set your intentions on something, whether it be a goal, happiness, love, money... and you open yourself up to receive it, it will come to you. I'm sure you've heard it before, from someone, from a book, or a DVD.

When I lived in Maui, things were pretty nice. I remember, jumping into the ocean for the first time and I'd said to my best friend Amanda, 'I feel like I don't deserve this.' and she'd said to me, 'Well, part of you must have felt like you did, because you're here.' There's something really amazing about feeling that you've set an intention- and that it has happened to you. You feel in control. It's as if you've taken up a dance with the cosmos, yes? You're just going with the flow and engaging the universe, and making things happen the way you want them to, all because you dreamt it.

This worked out for me really well for a while. It just seemed like, things were happening right, all the time. Some would have called it a streak of good luck. Others would say it was an 'up' moment in a life where events are a series of ups and downs. Me, I was thinking, 'Wow, things are actually happening for me, because I have accepted positivity in my life.'

I don't know how many people I've told, 'If you maintain a positive outlook, you attract positivity. If you maintain a negative outlook, you attract negativity.' I reallly believed that. I know a lot of people that do.

Then, some time went by. Things started to go wrong. And I began to suffer.

There were times I thought to myself, 'poor me', but I have already learned that self-pity does not solve problems.
There were times I thought to myself, 'This is all _________'s fault', but I have already learned, that blaming people does not solve problems.

There were times I thought, 'Things will get better soon. I just have to think positively.' But then they didn't.

Sometimes in our lives, when we're having a hard time, we encounter obstacles, one after the other. Relentlessly. Some would call it a streak of bad luck. Others would say it's a 'down' moment in a life where events are a series of ups and downs. Me, I was thinking,

'Wow, things are really not happening for me. I must have brought this upon myself. In fact, I am bringing even more upon myself right now just by having this thought.'

See, there is a dark side to a life lived as a matter of intention, as a matter of magnetism. In a world where the very power of your own thinking dictates the eventual outcomes in your life... when things go wrong, it is YOUR fault. YOU have brought it upon yourself, either by asking for it somehow, or by failing to think positively in the face of overwhelmingly challenging circumstances.

Imagine what a burden that is, especially to someone who is already suffering.

In the midst of one crisis or another, Amanda had once said to me something along the lines of, 'I just don't understand why you choose to have a life of difficulty. Why you choose to put yourself in difficult situations.'

I'd spent a few years thinking about that, and honestly, I couldn't figure it out. I kept thinking, Why do I do this to myself? Why put myself in all of these difficult situations? Why have I chosen this difficult path?

It is really hard to know what to do when you can't breath and it appears that the hands tightening around your throat appear to be your own. What do you do, then, when placed in such a position?

I wanted to breath. I'd commanded my hands to let go, but they wouldn't. I concluded that either a) I wasn't 'willing' myself hard enough, or b) these were not my hands.

Figuring this out has been troubling me for a while now. When it comes to the times in your life when things are not going your way, it must be a matter of either a) personal failure (not being positive enough), or b) not being in control of your own life/destiny/whatever.

I'm not particularly enamoured with either conclusion. I doubt anyone would be, really. These options don't seem very positive.

Which brings me to another stunningly obvious realization that I've only recently remembered, which is this:

Shit just happens sometimes, that is completely out of our control.

Life gets hard. Believe it. And no amount of setting intentions is going to will away the pain of losing a loved one, nor should it. It won't heal cancers, or bring you that sweet convertible when you are making $7 an hour and are $20,000 in debt. Freak storms can wash away your home. A person you trusted might mislead you. You could lose your job. That person you love so much, might prefer to go it alone.

The thing I've realized, is that dealing with the ups and downs in your life is not EXCLUSIVELY a matter of intention, nor is it EXCLUSIVELY beyond our control. We have this nice, spongy thing in our craniums for a reason, and its not just to (debateably) bend the laws of physics so we can get whatever we want just by focusing on it. We have it so that when presented with a situation, we can use it to distinguish the difference between the things we can and can't change, and ACCEPT it.

We can use it to ACCEPT each other. We can use it to ACCEPT the challenges and obstacles and responsibilities that lie between ourselves and our ultimate purposes, whatever they may be. We can use it to ACCEPT circumstances we have no control over, pasts we cannot change, and the inevitability of grief, pain and loss. We can use it to ACCEPT the lessons we learn, whether we like them or not, and we can use them to ACCEPT the possibility that we may be misguided by them, and ACCEPT the new conditions of our lives, as they change, every single day.

What makes us the masters of our own destiny? We are not the engineers of our own lives. We are not in control. But we do, every day, check that box that says 'I agree to keep living, in spite of all this.'

We say yes to good fortune. And also, yes to pain and grief. We can, if we want to.

mom love

2008-10-25T14:34:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I forget that my mom is probably the wisest person in the world. This is because she's so wise, she doesn't mind telling me when I'm acting like a dumb ass, which I usually tend to take the wrong way.

Something really unwise in me tells me not to answer her phone calls, or open her e-mails when the subject line says 'What's the deal' or 'did you do __________ yet? It's been a month' and it's not because she's being a horrible mean mom and telling me I'm a horrible irresponsible person... (well... I suppose she's telling me I'm being irresponsible, but not in a horrible way)

.. I don't answer for the same reason it's been a month and a half and I still haven't filled out and mailed those blah-blah forms to her, with which she graciously included a self-addressed and stamped envelope to make it a little more likely that I'll get around to performing this small task that should have taken five minutes.

I don't answer because I figure, I'll talk to her once I've done it.. then she won't say 'oh my god Josette, are you serious (like OMGWTF) and I won't feel like a total retard because my procrastination levels are deep into the red zone labelled 'retarded'.

Enough about beating myself up already. My point is, my mom is the wisest person I know. She's like buddha only she's really hot and drives a red Honda Accord and carries a briefcase.

I've been avoiding her phone calls for almost two months now and since I was already sitting in my house moping like a child, I thought I would go ahead and make 'cool' use of my Friday night by calling my mom and whining about how my 'pretty-good-life' is 'slightly-inconvenient-slash-boring-sometimes'.

She's wise because she knows when to be frank, without being condescending. Our twenty-minute conversation was more enlightening than the Tao Te Ching I'm pretty sure because she was spot-on and effortless about everything she told me, like poetry or art and other things that are just right because they leave you feeling like, 'OHHHHHHHhhhh. ok. well shit.'

Now I am sitting here trying to remember specifically what she said that made me go 'Aw GAHHH Mum you're so fucking* (*censored) right!' ...but its a bit fuzzy... sometimes I wish I had a tape recorder. All I know is I feel I've been put in my place and it's the best possible place because I feel more confident and ready and a bit more lucid.

One thing I do remember her saying is, 'Nobody is stronger than anyone else.' Because I was being twenty-something and looking at someone else as being weaker than myself. And she's totally right, and I am totally humbled in this moment. I'll try to remember this next time I feel weak, or strong.

She also surprised me by supporting my passing thoughts about moving to NYC in the near future and totally egged me on to save up and get there in the next few months. She told me, 'You are adventurous, and you need stimulation, and you're so free, and so smart, and there are so many more opportunities there. And if you don't like it, you can go somewhere else, because you can do anything.'

She did not surprise me by discouraging my other passing thought about moving back to Maui.

Mom: 'You'll just be there and that's it.'

Me: 'But it's nice, and it heals me and I feel like it gives me strength.'

Mom: 'You need to invest your energy into your life, and put your energy into it. Any time you think life takes things from you, that you're less, or weak, or a worse person because of something that happens, it's

Just
Not
True.

'Everything that happens to you in your life makes you a better person. You can only become a better person, stronger, more compassionate, wiser, more capable.'

'You can go back to Maui because its your life, and only you know what you need, but I will tell you that you will have more choices in NYC, and I will tell you that you are the kind of person who needs to have a choice, because you can't stay put.. not in a job, not in a way of thinking, or in a place. If you could have everything possible happen to you in one day, if you could time-warp to a million places in a week you would. And Maui is one place, on an island very far away and one way of life. And you will feel stagnant, you spent a year there, and you told me this yourself.'

And she was right again.

And also knew me better than I thought she did... knew me better than I knew myself even (at least in that moment).. and not only did she know me, but respected my way, which was not hers.

I thought she would tell me it was financially unwise, or that I should think about settling down and balancing my checkbook, or that I should stop moving every year or so for once but instead she told me to move forward, be free, to start thinking about my future, and grow..

I suppose she's never told me exactly what to do with my life, and I'd never listen anyway so maybe this is why I feel like it's unfolded perfectly according to (non)plan.

I got a bit teary-eyed... in the way like when you realize how lucky you are to know someone, only times a billion because that person is my mom, and she raised me sorta with that wisdom and compassion, and faith... which means, it's part of me.

I'm very lucky. I feel like a superhero but the kind that knows everyone else is a superhero too, so I don't feel like such a big-shot (because nobody's stronger than anybody else).

When my mom was my age, she had me, I was just born.

She knew why I hadn't done the tiny task she asked me to. I could tell she'd thought about it when she said 'Sometimes thinking about all the things you need to do is so exhausting you just want to lay down. But really, just organize the three page to-do list into five small ones, and check them off like a treasure hunt and I promise it's so little effort for such great relief and you will feel a million times better.'

I liked how she used the treasure hunt analogy. It was like she knew this would appeal to me. I am simple, and it did.

I used to worry I'd become like my mom when I was younger, but the older I get the more I realize, well,

She's just awesome. Even if I don't think so sometimes. So even though I can only be like me, I have noticed I am also a little like her, and it's not so bad.

Sometimes when I'm feeling cheeky, I get all proud of myself and think I'm very clever and can handle some things some one else can't. I suppose that's alright but will always be accessorized with a 'lingering feeling of self-doubt'. Because it's kind of not true (but this is really ok).

When you're not better off than someone, or worse off than someone, you're both just kind of there, right? Just two people, being people. The story doesn't end with a winner, or a loser, with inferiority or superiority... it doesn't end in front, or behind. In fact,

if you think of it another way, it's not you (here) and them (there)... it's us (together).

Mom also said,

'Of course you feel alone sometimes, like you have no friends, or you can't relate to anyone, it's the most human thing in the world!! We ALL feel this way, it's the most, 100% understandable human experience so just know, when you feel alone, you are not. Lots and lots of ppl are feeling alone at the exact same time as you. We could make a club.'

(we have, it's called the internet).

Anyway I could go on, but I won't because she says a lot of cool stuff that I can't remember exactly so I just end up making things up that sum the general gist of it. She also says a lot of mean stuff, but its because she's not stronger or smarter or less alone than anyone else.

But she's my mom, so to me she is a superhero anyway.

by the way, this is my grandmother (with my brother). She too is a superhero. I've used this photo three times in this blog I think, but I mean. C'mon.

logic and magic

2008-06-06T11:33:00.000-04:00

logic and magic

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart,
and you shall see that in truth
you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

- Kahlil Gibran -

___________________________

My friend Melei from Maui posted this. I’ve always loved Kahlil Gibran because just like everything else in this world, he reminds of things I already know but have forgotten, right at the moment when I need it.

Yesterday I was walking down the escalator in the subway just as my ride to Harvard Square was screeching to a stop, and in my iPod, Johnny Cash was singing in my ears: ’I hear the train a-comin’...’

... I thought that was pretty cool, too.

When you’re grateful for the things in your life, it seems there is a fine line between such a thing being a blessing and a curse. I guess it has something to do with nostalgia. It’s hard to love the moments and experiences in your life in such a way that you do not mourn them when they are no longer there, but I guess that’s the whole point of it... compassionate detachment is where it’s at, if it is at all possible.

There is something eery and inhuman to me about one who does not ’miss’.. it’s not that I don’t think it’s a human characteristic... it just doesn’t seem to be a quality I can relate to. I am a very nostalgic person.

Can you be nostalgic, while at the same time appreciating the present moment?

Can you love the life you’ve lived, while at the same time loving the life you are living, and loving the thought of living the life you are about to live (and is that confusing enough for you?)

Can you love it all?

... I’m going to say ’Yes.’ I may be nostalgic, but I’m no pansy. I’m chock full of ambition.

I am, at the same time, currently full of joy and sorrow. It’s not supposed to make sense. It’s magic.

I got a call from my best friend Amanda the other day saying she had to talk to me right that second about Logic (the philosophical approach, not the audio software) and Magic. So I rolled a cigarette and left my desk for about an hour to talk to her... because I am responsible like that.

She said she’d been trying to put together a discussion about the logic/magic dichotomy... how the world of tangible, linear calculable and defineable elements is related to the world of serendipity, coincidence, intuition and fate.

’I’m having trouble,’ she said, ’describing magic in any sort of adequate way.’ It made me think about the Philosophy of Mind course I took in college many years ago, where we spent an entire semester trying to logically prove the statement ’Consciousness is a process of the brain.’

The short-comings of logic itself bear naked when we try to prove something that is self-evident, but epistemologically impossible to prove. This is why so many people turn to God... or one-ness.... or magic.... or democracy.

I told her it was impossible to explain with words because both ’explanation’ and ’words’ are inherently Logical parameters, and not Magical ones.

It’s like trying to measure your height in gallons. Trying to explain ’magic’ in words is like trying to figure out how fast the universe is growing with a thermometer.

She told me that she hasn’t since experienced the kind of magic that we felt almost two years ago when we were sitting on the rooftop of the tantra school the first day I’d arrived in Maui, and we sat in silent tears together because we were quite literally, overwhelmed with the perfection of that single moment in a way that words (coincidentally) could not explain.

We find it hard to say that magic does not exist after that moment. In a lot of ways, it might be one of the few completely real moments in our lives.

I am grateful for the realization that a truth exists beyond the parameters of logic. I can’t prove it, I just know it exists. Another word for this (if you want to be logical about it)... ... is faith.

We underestimate the power of believing in something we have no control over, or understanding of because it seems unreasonable to do so. While it is unreasonable, it should not be underestimated.

Amanda was wondering where the magic was, why she didn’t feel it anymore, wondering where to get it or whether she (we) were doing something wrong, and maybe that’s why we can’t feel it right now.

I told her, that I think it’s always there, just that we don’t always see it. That I truly believe that it is possible to find beauty in even the ugliest things, and to find magic in the most mundane, darkest, and dead-est moments of our lives. We just have to know it’s always there.... even though we can’t see it, even if there’s not a single sign of it. We just have to have faith, we have to believe, and that that belief has REAL power.

The mythology almost all humans have grown up with tries to tell us this in so many ways by drawing logical pictures around it, like throwing sand on invisible object so that we can see its shape.

In two seperate discussions with two seperate people, the movie ’Neverending Story’ came up- probably because it was one of the great contemporary tales of our own childhoods. In the movie, the very existence of an entire Universe relied on belief itself. No one believed in Fantasia anymore... and as a result the Nothing (they were quite literal with the naming of things) swept over everything, killing everything in its path. As her empire crumled, the child-like empress said to Sebastian, who (at the time) was just like you or me, and nothing special: ’All you have to do is believe’.

Flying dog dragons and wild 80s synth music aside, the Neverending Story was incredibly deep. In my childhood, it illustrated to me something true that couldn’t be proven...

... that without faith, we have Nothing.

So what are we doing when we mourn, and feel sorrow for the delights in our life that have come and gone... and where does this sorrow come from. I think part of me, as I feel nostalgic for past Magic that is no longer with me, is having a hard time seeing that it never left in the first place.

All our sorrow, everything we lack, is our Nothing. It’s not there, because we believe it’s gone.

We fear that the magical moments in our life have past, that our chance at love, or bliss, or of living the Perfect Moment has come and gone.... but every breath we take, every gaze straightforward is the start of a new adventure.

Every time we look for it, not because we can’t find it, but because we KNOW it’s there... then we will see. It’s magic.

I think the trick is knowing you have everything you need, even when you have nothing...

That even though you may have wants, nobody can take away your ability to be aware of and appreciate any and every experience that comes your way, no matter how difficult that experience may be. Until you draw your last breath, it’s all you’ll ever need.

7/11/07 - Compulsion

2007-07-12T13:37:00.000-04:00

I never really know what any of this is supposed to mean.... what I'm doing, or why.

Sometimes I tell people it's important to be aware of the things that motivate us to act... but to be honest, most of the time I never know where it comes from. I feel a compulsion, and it's so hard to explain that tears come to my eyes if I even think of attempting to.

Chris was telling me about a compulsion he had at work the other day. His boss seemed so troubled that morning, when he handed her some coffee. All day he felt compelled to tell her what he thought of her... about the respect he had for her and what she does for the people around her, and her passion for the work she does. He couldn't stop thinking about it all day, so before leaving he sat down and wrote her a letter, and gave it to her. The next day she took him aside in an effort to explain how much it meant to her, that she was moved to tears. There are no words for these things.

I was listening to him tell me this and I myself felt very moved. It's something I think about all the time, and try to put words to when there are none. It's so beautiful when people are honest with each other. We hold back so much, for fear of standing there naked, vulnerable to the world.

We think we don't know who we are, or how to represent ourselves. We think we are so alone. We think we cannot describe ourselves to each other in a way that could be understood. We think when we 'say', we don't say what we mean, and when we paint, it's never as beautiful as the image in our heads. We struggle to birth reflections of ourselves into this world all the time, and we feel pain when our meticulous efforts fail to reflect the true beauty of this thing inside us.

And all this time, here we are standing, naked under it all. Beautiful. Always. To Everyone.

We are not hidden. We shine through, marvelous accidental.

Listen: these compulsions? Listen and see yourself shine through. I know that if I stay here, eyes open, ears open- I will hear and I will see the difference between Everything Else, and my soul singing to be heard.

But this isn't a task, or a quest, or a journey to overcome obstacles. Even if you don't hear it, even if you don't see it, even if you don't think you know it.... you shine through, anyway. Marvelous accidental.

Someone once said, "Existence does not exist for others. It is of itself, for itself, by itself."

Alan Watts once said, "Contradictory as it may sound, it seems to me that the deepest spiritual experience can arise only in moments of selfishness so complete that it transcends itself."

Damian once said, "Any autobiography is an act of vanity."

And I once thought that compulsion, selfishness, self- consciousness and vanity were things to be frowned upon. Negatives to which surely there existed positive alternatives.

But what is compulsion, if not an act driven by a force that seems larger and more overwhelming than your own notions of logic, reason and etiquette? I thought it was something that had to do with lack of self-control, or of acting without thinking or consideration. But this is only one element of a very multi-faceted relationship. If you look at Chris's story, you realize that someties acting without thought or consideration can manifest itself in ways so thoughtful and considerate that we did not know we were capable of it.

Along the same lines, selflessness is in itself an act of pure selfishness. This is how much language serves its purpose in manners such as these.

Self-consciousness could be described as a condition of ceaseless fascination with who "I am". It is self-consciousness which is often crippling and misleading, often a circus house of distorted mirrors and illusions. But how much would we know, how much would we laugh and understand if we just really tried to look at ourselves? We are constant reflections of each other.

And vanity. The other thing that causes us to think twice before showing ourselves to the world.The other thing that makes us ask 'Well, who am I to say?' or, 'Well, who would really care to look at me?'

For one reason or another I am thinking to myself, whether or not a diamond is hidden will not change its shape, form, beauty or flawlessness. But it can only be brilliant in the sun.

For one reason or another I keep thinking about these things, and about how I thought they meant one thing, and were to be avoided....

... but now I'm starting to realize that things like this: compulsion, selfishness, self-conciousness and vanity... are completely unavoidable, and I have been struggling to overcome them when they themselves are part of who I am.

And not only that, but that these things, while they can be negative, can also be very positive, too. That there is no opposite, and no alternative, because these conditions are balanced within their own true meanings (whatever they are) to help us play this game, bring joy into our lives and others, and to bring a little more brilliance into the world.

Okay then. That is all.

7/7/07 - Touch and Spill

2007-07-12T13:36:00.002-04:00

i feel a little overwhelmed... this is good... it's quite good, actually (amanda, you know)

why does it floor me so to listen to music someone has made that comes from their hearts, and souls, and that perfect, radiant, gorgeous part of them that seems to shine when we just let it go?

oh lord. it floors me so. it moves me like nothing else in this world. every modular swell is like the crest of the wave that my heart is riding on. I feel like spilling all over the place, perfect, melting, water into water. Like salty tears melt into the ocean.

it touches me.

this is what it is with music.... i was ready to go to bed and nick asked me to wait five minutes and sent me the beginnings of a dubstep track he'd started working on tonight.

it's hard to explain, so i'll just say it in the first words that came to me... i told him, 'now you've got me, making such a pretty thing....

... it's like you touched your fingers to the keyboard and to your computer and it went through something intangible to get to my ears... and then from there you reached right into me and touched my soul.

what does it sound like... it sounds like flattery. people hesitate to speak when they are touched like this. me, i can never keep my mouth shut about much, especially when it's overwhelming.

it wasn't just that it was beautiful, though. i felt like the universe-sized complexity of the nature of the relationship between he and i was explained to me in less than five minutes, and without words.

does that make sense?

i heard it and i knew without any words exchanged that he knew me. open ears connect. not just me, Josephine, age 23, lost in her life.... but me... who i am.

i'm having a hard time with words, here. But what I'm trying to say is, every sound, every movement, every rhythm, it moved with me like when two dancers know each other so well they dance effortlessly, beautifully together , pushing pulling. Like my ears were meant to hear it that way. Like i've been waiting all my life to feel that elevated.

I love to see it spill like that.

That's what making things is, to me, I think. Cup Overflow. Honest Gorgeousness into the world, because we can't even help it.

7/1/07 - A DJ Progress Report

2007-07-12T13:36:00.001-04:00

oh boy...

... so I've been playing records almost four months now, and I'm definitely much more comfortable with it and still loving it (more than ever, actually)

... I mean, who can resist diving into a setup this beautiful?

Chris came over Friday night to play some dubstep and it was really the first time I've played with anybody...

...it's not hard for me to throw together something decent when Rachel and Winnie are around, in fact, I think I do my best when Winnie's around. It really gets me going when someone comes into the room and starts dancing.

When Courtney and I got together last weekend to make T-shirts for Bassic, I got to try my hand at explaining exactly what turntables and mixing are about- she said even though I may not be the most experienced, she preferred to hear it from me because it's not as intimidating as hearing it from the guys. I even got to play some and explain at the same time, no problem.

I really enjoyed playing when CJB was around- it's that whole 'Teaching is the best way to learn' thing, not to mention I just like hanging out with her. I hope we get to do it more often.

Oddly enough, even though Nick is teaching me a lot I still don't play too often around him. When I first started, I actually even got angry because I would feel like I was making progress and totally fuck it up while he was around!

Now it's not so bad. Often times he listens from another room just to track my progress sans-nervousness. At this point I can play pretty comfortably even when he's in the room, although sometimes if I'm on a roll and he comes in a-nodding his head it's like two trains come out of nowhere all of a sudden. Silly me.

Why so hard when Nick's around, you ask?

Well- because he is a DJ. The same goes for Chris, Dan, Damian, and pretty much almost everyone I know here in Boston...

... they're the most intimidating audience, because even if a person that's dancing can't tell, a DJ can automatically hear if I'm off beat even by a fraction of a second. That's pretty intimidating to me for some reason. I know how I feel when I hear a bad mix, and I don't want anybody to feel that way about my mixes.

But that's a silly way to go about it, because of course I won't be 100% accurate right away. In fact, I don't think I ever will be... because no DJ is. So basically I need to get over it.

It really helped to have Chris come over and play with me. Before we started he asked, 'Do you want to go two and two?' (he plays two records, then we switch off and I play two records) and I just shrugged because I'd never even tag-teamed with anyone before. I'd never tried to mix with another person's records and I hoped I could pull it together.

I almost chickened out. I kept shaking my head as I was throwing the first record on and Chris says, 'You nervous?'

'Quite.', I say.

'Well get over it. If you can't play in front of another person you're never gonna play out.'

I'm thinking, Very Good Point. I told myself I wasn't going to cut off my dreads until I played out for the first time. And I really want to cut off my dreads.

So I play. And fuck up, a lot. My hands are shaking like crazy, and half the time I can't mix the record in time before the one playing runs out. That's a problem I have when people are around, I'd rather just cut it in last minute and risk a second of silence than train-wreck (have two tracks playing terribly off-beat from each other).

But eventually my hands stop shaking and I calm down some. It still doesn't sound as good as when I'm alone, but I manage to pull together a few times that didn't sound too terribly bad. I get to watch Chris do his thing and realize that no matter how good of a DJ you are (and Chris is a great DJ), sometimes it's just hard with the time constraint, or one record is just confusing, or the two are off-key and it's too late to switch out.

That was a good thing to learn, that I shouldn't have impossible standards and shouldn't forget that it's fun. You could say that about a lot of the things I do, and expect of myself.

So I'm not going to wait until I'm a perfect DJ before recording a mix, or playing out because that time will never come. Therefore, my DJ progress report is this:

I've made some progress. And I think I'm comfortable enough to record a mix, so that's what I've been practicing for, and will be doing on Tuesday afternoon.

Pandai'a's First Mix :)

I feel ready, and I hope it goes well.

I'll post a link when it's done, for better or worse.

7/1/07 - Restless

2007-07-12T13:35:00.000-04:00

2:30am.

Everything is beautiful. I am in love, and someday I'll be a Real DJ. But I still can't sleep.

I feel restless as hell, and I'm not sure what to do.... restless isn't even the word, really.

I quit my job in February. It's almost July now, and I'm still unemployed. Am I looking for a job? Sort of. Why am I not trying as hard as I should be? I don't know.

It's mostly because I don't really want one, to be honest. Chris asked me what I do with all of the time on my hands, when we got together on Friday to tag team some dubstep.

"Honestly?" I said, "I have no fucking clue."

I play records. Lately, I've been playing a lot of Guitar Hero at Nick's. I spend a lot of my energy constantly battling a lingering feeling of worthlessness/ usefulness. I feel left behind in the wake of the adventure that was my life for a while.

I don't know why I feel this way. You could say I'm not looking at it the right way, and you're probably right. It's confusing, because I'm learning how to DJ and I am spending a lot of my time with someone I love and respect, and feel truly happy with... but at the same time I can honestly say I don't know if I feel that way about myself, most of the time.

And I always said, how can you love someone else if you don't love yourself. So what does it mean. It means I'm confused.

I feel like I have to do something drastic. I think about cutting all my hair off sometimes, but to be honest, I want to do something more drastic. I think about Maui more than I think about cutting my hair off. I miss it so much but you can only go forward, you can't go back. I know going to Maui won't change how I feel about myself, or fix anything.

I need to be shaken, is all. At least, that's what I think I need.

I don't know what it is in my head that makes me think the world is like quicksand, and if I stay still long enough, I start to sink. But that's how I feel anyway. Gosh, I have so much to learn.

I thought I was ready to learn about staying still but now I'm not so sure. I'm not even sure if running off is the answer, either. So what do you call the space in between staying still and running off?

It's excruciating and tense. It's full of anxiety and indecisiveness, and ultimately insecurity and it makes me so frustrated with myself. But something's gotta give. I've either got to get past this phase and shape up, get a job and get comfortable with staying still here in Boston...

... or I need to get the hell out... and I just don't know what to do. I've spent the past nine months trying to be comfortable staying still. But it just doesn't seem to be working. I feel so much that I'm not interacting with the world out there. I know it doesn't have to be that way, and that my level of interaction is in my hands to wield... I know I could do it...

... but it's like I'm paralyzed. At the end of the night I have very few answers... but a few things I'm sure of....

... on the mornings when I wake up and see this person sleeping next to me, it really makes me smile inside and out. I love him so much.

... and... although I still don't know whether or not to stay still or go, I need to go temporarily. I need to get out of myself and this place and I need a break. I need more than just cutting all my hair off, although that might help too. This I know.

Maybe you can understand why I can't sleep, who ever's reading this. I know it has to do with a very special love, an uncertainty in direction, and a reluctance to let go of my tendency to wander.

I don't want to break his heart. I love him so much. I want him to know that if I go, I want to come back to him, but I couldn't expect him to understand that. I guess it boils down to fear, as usual.

This one doesn't have a point, or a moral. I just thought I would try and be honest about things to myself, and see what comes up. No answers. Just truth.

6/22/07 - Get By With a Little Help

2007-07-12T13:34:00.000-04:00

I was pretty bummed last night for some inexplicable reason [read: PMS] so I did what I always do because it always makes me feel better: I called my friends.

Talked to Carl briefly and realized I've been virtually unemployed for most of this year. Of course he gently reminded me that everything would be okay in Carl-speak, and while he always makes me feel better, it also makes me really, really miss him. I miss my Carl.

I got to talk to Bjorn last night while she was driving around in Hollywood, and she had a lot of good advice and reminded me that I'm not lame. I love to hear advice from friends who know me so well. they know my virtues and weaknesses and they really help to guide me in the right direction, which has no set destination. They really help me to just do what I do best.... which is just make things, all the time, in every medium.... and that I shouldn't worry about where I'm going with all of this, but to just keep doing it.

Why? I was telling her I like what I do, painting, and music-ing, and Inter-web documenting... but how am I going to make a living out of it? She said, 'Well Jo, you already are. This is your living. You are living it. This is your life.'

I forgot that taken another way, 'making a living' doesn't directly refer to paying my rent. She reminded me that jobs are just jobs, they come and go. It's your life that's important. She's reminded me of that for years, and I love her for that.

God I love my friends so much. They teach me so much through their love, and without even trying. I remember when Mike was in town, and we drew while my lovely DJ friends played records and blessed my house with their presence.

I was having such a hard time. Then he told me, 'When I feel like I can't draw, I just try to draw things I liked to draw when I was really little. It helps me loosen up.' So we just scribbled like three-year-olds. He gave me five seconds to draw a face with only scribble lines. I kept saying 'I can't do it! I'm so out of practice.' But he just kept saying 'See? You did it! You do perfectly fine without even thinking about it.'

Did I mention I love my friends?

One of Bjorn's suggestions was mapping out a geographical space based on my experiences, creating an interactive map where you click on a location and you get access to writings about my experiences there and links to relevent articles and profiles I've written about the characters I've met there. She said above all, I'm a traveller and a documenter, and it would be a great way of creating a tangible memory network on the Interweb that is also a record of my memories and experience in cyberspace, mapped out over geographical space. I think it's a great idea. I'm going to build on it, bit by bit... I guess I already have been.

6/20/07 - Under Breath Laugh-Rant

2007-07-12T13:33:00.002-04:00

I woke up and I felt really riled up for some reason, which is strange, because I hate it when people are riled up around me.

I can see the pressure building, they get all huffed and puffed and I'm thinking "Oh my god, dude, man... chill." A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead.

But here I am, anyway. I'm shrugging off the rest of the world like it's snow noise and I'm trying to hear what my brain is saying.

You might not know this, but I hate talking about spirituality. I hate talking about buddhism and consciousness and the New Human and 2012. I hate everything I say about it, and everything I read about it, because it's all language to me, it's all just words.

It's like I just realized where all this damn pain is coming from. Since the moment I started writing the way that I do now- I was in so much pain because I couldn't say, because I couldn't speak, I was talking about the importance of connection, and saying what we mean- but it's like I just figured it out-

- it will never happen. We will NEVER say what we mean because 'saying' and 'meaning' are two completely, completely different things.

I hate Eckhart Tolle. Someone put an audiobook of his onto my iPod and I cringe every time it comes on. Some sort of new age chime goes off and I know that chapter 1200 of the Power of Now is about to be 'fa-fa'-ed into my ears by the most self-righteous voice I've ever heard. I hate it when people talk like that. It makes me think of that Ian guy in High Fidelity.

I know I'm using the word 'hate' a lot. You might even logically conclude that I am being curiously 'hateful'. Don't worry. 'Hate' is not the right word. I am just lazy.

I hate talking about buddhism, or higher-powers, or the power within. I know this seems really backwards. If you read any of my blogs this is what I'm talking about, right? It's okay. You can call me a hypocrite, it will only make me feel more human.

Here's the thing I'm getting at, and you know, I know I am right, but my words are most likely wrong- is that whatever these people have to tell you about being ego-less isn't something they have to teach you that you don't already know.

We are each others' golden calves, and that's dangerous...

.... and I think people that write about being without ego have created a whole mass of people who secretly hate themselves for not being enlightened enough. That is silly as shit.

It's all just language, you see me? Someone at some point said 'you are not your ego', and found it to be true, but then people's ears and brains decided that the ego was a bad thing and wrote about it in such a way. Just because you are not your ego does not mean it isn't a part of you, though, right? And it's simplistic and retarded to call a human good or bad. We are not storybook characters or allegorical figures. We are humans... of course you have an ego, or you wouldn't be you. How does the saying go? 'Who is it who knows there is no ego?'

I know but I won't [can't] say. All of this is just play.

Eckhart Tolle speaks for cavemen everywhere when he says the flower was the first thing cavemen found valuable without needing it to survive-

For me, it was the George Foreman lean-mean-fat-reducing-grilling-machine. Mine was blue.

And I'm not even saying 'I'm right and they're wrong.' We're not talking about right and wrong.... that is completely irrelevent. What I am saying is, how about this. And this is just a game...

... how about you are the George Foreman lean-mean-fat-reducing-grilling-machine? How about, you are totally pointless, but pretty neat anyway, like a flower or an electric grill with a drip tray?

Anyway sorry about dissing on Eckhart Tolle. I'm sure he was pretty cool guy, and I'm sure 2012 will be super exciting too. But It's strange, I may be riled up, and I may come off as jaded and disbelieving, but-

- and I say this with honesty, which is undeniably shiny- I have never been happier. I feel so full.

'Full''s not the word. But you know. If I start saying shit like 'I feel so ___' then you might as well just replace every letter in this blog with ______________.

6/12/07 - Patience in Playing the Game

2007-07-12T13:33:00.001-04:00

How does it work in chess?

I am a very impatient chess player. I tend to spend the time the other player is deliberating mapping out all possible moves and counter-moves so that when my time comes, it takes me less than a few seconds to turn the tables.

About 80% of the time this works for me, the other 20% of the time, something happens that I didn't quite see... because I'm not perfect, and I miss that kind of stuff sometimes.

Other times, I'm so focused on some intended strategy that my impatience turns into anxiety, and then into complete distraction. I am so preoccupied that I accidentally overlook the trap that my opponent has laid out. That's when I get my ass kicked. That happens sometimes, too.

Patience isn't just a virtue. It's a calmness, and a tranquility. It's the stillness in the eye of the storm and what makes the dancing beautiful when you let go of all inhibition.

It's realizing you could save yourself a whole lot of cuts and bruises if you just move with current and let it take you right where you're supposed to be. It's less like gravity, and more like magic- and it will drop the pieces right into place when you least expect it, because it's always happening whether you can see it or not.

Anyone who's played the game, or put their hands on something with the intention of reflecting this beautiful thing inside has gone through the frustration of trying to say what we mean, or show what we see, or make the 'right' decisions.

The thing is, we inherently understand the nature of things, whether you want to call them rules, or laws, constants or truths. We already know that we know the right moves, instinctively, and without thought.

But if you're anything like me, you often get impatient with yourself and your relationship with time, and you start to second-guess yourself, and get distracted.

What I mean to say is, here I am writing about how things are a matter of time, and I know this, but I'm still tapping my foot and looking at my watch. My heart rate is going up, and my anxiety, and I feel held back, if anything by a self-imposed, imaginary standard or deadline.

But waiting isn't just sitting there and expecting something to happen. It's a wonderful time! It's a chance to reflect and look forward, and to calm yourself and know that whatever happens, you'll know how to get through it. It's an opportunity to think, and more importantly, an opportunity to not think at all, and to just 'be'.

I had no idea how important that was. I always think it's so pointless and unimportant, and that I'm not being productive. But when the ball is in the world's court, what could be more productive than tapping into the part of you that is omniscient and happy, because it is in its nature? That part of you ir more than intelligent. That part of you knows.

And here's the game I've been playing-

- my intentions were set. I would do as much preparation as would be necessary to get into HASTES, the humanities program at MIT that seems like it was designed for me. There I would find the resources to put together the project ideas I have outlined with notes and research in my journals, that are footnoted with references to the pieces of papers lodged in my favorite books to outline striking passages. I know what I want to bring into this world. I know where I can find the resources to make these ideas a reality. And now I'm going to gain access to them.

I know if I stay genuine to what I have always been fundamentally passionate about and fascinated with, the pieces will fall into place around me. All I have to do is move with it, and into it. I also know it's not as easy as it sounds to do so... it takes a tremendous amount of discipline and perserverence to be true to yourself.

I must remember: I will not shape myself for this world. There is a metaphorical lock on a metaphorical door to which I am the metaphorical key. An enzyme for which I am a catalyst. In other words, there is somewhere that I fit perfectly, as I am, and without contortion. And if there isn't, I will make that place. I will make it around me.

It is as in the laws of biology and nature, and physics and human perserverence. It is in my nature.

I should not take things so seriously. I should have fun, yes? It's just a game, after all. This life is just an improvisational play with no rehearsal.

So game. Set. And Match.

- Studying for GREs. This isn't as bad as it sounds, it's actually a lot like filling out myspace surveys, only more useful.

- Going to L.A. in August to reconnect with Dr. McClure my neuroscience advisor, and to speak with Alexia's father in hopes that he would like to write my second recommendation. (And not only that, but have lots of fun seeing my friends again, of course!)

- The big Kahuna: getting my foot in the door at MIT. What does it take to get in? I'm not sure yet, but I will- with Patience- and I know there is absolutely NO hurry. But I have to make the first move.

Step 1: Get a job at MIT. This is what I've been trying to do for the past two months. Any job really, I don't care. I just want to familiarize myself with the environment.

I've been sending out countless applications every day to no avail. I knew it wouldn't be easy, but I was getting a little impatient, and subsequently more and more discouraged. I began second-guessing myself, which in any game is the worst thing you can do.

Fortunately today, I just got my first interview: as a research assistant for the Tsai Lab in the Picower Institute for Learning and Memory. At MIT.

I am trying to be calm. Possible counter-moves:

- I don't get the job. That's okay! I got an interview, and that means I can get more! No matter what, I know what feel right at the right time. Endless opportunities will come along as long as I have the patience to stay calm and keep my eyes and ears open and focused.

- I do get the job. Great! It will look nice on my visitor's form when I tour the HASTES PhD program and fill in "I work for YOU." under 'current employment'.

A million other things might happen. I could be steered in a completely different direction. That's okay too, I am ready, because I always have been! I was born to play this game.

And now that I've said all these matter-of-fact-type things, please, wish me luck on this interview... because if I've learned anything at all, it is this: that these intentions have a way of moving molecules. (It's real magic!)

6/6/07 - This Tether Life

2007-07-12T13:32:00.000-04:00

Oh, this time in my life. In our lives.

I feel like a ball at the end of a tether cord, back and forth and all around. Some days I wake up and I can't stop myself, I'm moving so fast. I'm a whirlwind of productivity; here I'll paint my mural now, and then ten feet away to my turntables, and now I'll read a book and edit my writing.

Now I am going to go for a walk to look at records and pretty things while trying not to buy them, and then I go home to revise my resume, have three friends review it, write and edit several cover letter templates, and apply to five jobs a day. I feel un-fuckin-stoppable. And then.

Down, down and back again. One day, then two, then five. No responses. And then I wonder what I did wrong, was I not qualified enough? Was I not proactive enough? Is my old boss right, am I really unemployable? These things really get me down... these rejection things.

I sit in my home and I feel kicked around, and deflated. Like my intentions were stated boldly into the dark, but the Magic didn't work, and now someone is laughing back at me far away where I can't hear them.

My mural sits unpainted because I am sick with worry about my dwindling bank account. Nick asks me what I did today and I say 'Nothing', but that's never really true... I played records... I didn't do my laundry, or edit my book for more than half an hour, or paint my mural... I just checked my email every once in a while in case someone responded and played records all day and all night. I suppose that's something.

I tried to look for new jobs but I would look at the job descriptions and my chest would hurt, because I knew I would just get excited about it and hear nothing back.

I know that there are other ways of doing it, networking and such, but right now I just feel so deflated. I've got to blow some life into my ego, before I start to think I'm clever enough to be clever about it.

I've got to push.

"I'm proud of you," Nick said.

"Why so?"

"Because you never give up."

I could work as a waitress, or at the record store. Just to tide myself over... but it just doesn't feel right. I quit working at the coffee shop because I wanted to take the time to focus the proverbial crosshairs, and hit the bullseye. To find myself right where I intend to be. Chris and anyone feeling more buddhist than I do at the moment would remind me that I should be here, now. I say things like that to people all the time.

But there's some piece of the puzzle that I haven't quite wrapped my head around yet, which is how to Be Here Now, and also to move... and not forward, or towards something, but to just move.... to dance.

I want to dance. That's what this is about. I feel paralyzed, like someone is teaching me the two-step when I just want to shake my body the way it wants to shake, and to move my feet, and make my body sweat enraptured by the sheer passion of the Movement

They taught us at Kahua to Be Total, and to be present in every moment and the way it feels, its taste, its texture. It comes so naturally, and feels so right.

But how is it to be in your nature in such an unnatural world? It feels like sandpaper against my soul.

I wanted to see if the magic I saw in myself in Maui could work here... and the optimistic part of me thinks it does

the rest of me, it just can't see. Any of it. At all.

I feel so naive, all over again. Like a caged animal wanting to be free. I have been a caged animal, and I have been free. What I want, is to just be that animal existing, having shed the illusion of the cage.

I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's the other week and there was some sort of noble speech at the end when the main character is being accosted for running away from her problems.

Her co-star had said something like, 'You keep running because you don't want to be in a cage, but no matter where you go, that cage will be there, because that cage is your own insecurities, and fears. It doesn't matter where you are, or who you are, you will always be in a cage.'

That probably wasn't how it went. I probably made all that up. But you get the point.

I have tethered myself in place, to my insecurities and fears. But I know what it's like to fly. And I can cut this cord.

Earlier today Nick held me by the shoulders and said "Remember what you told me about setting intentions? You can make this happen, all you have to do is set your intention."

I was crying then, not so much because I was discouraged, but just because I felt so much love for him for reminding me. All of you lovely humans, reminding me.

I can do this. I can get the job that I am passing up all other jobs to get, because I can see it, and it is mine. I am not unintelligent, or incapable. All I have to do is show myself, my real self, and I will find a way.

5/21/07 - Self-Teachings

2007-07-12T13:31:00.000-04:00

Things seem like they're pretty hard lately.

I know they're not that bad, and that everything isn't falling apart, all over my head. It may not be that bad, but it still feels like it.

I guess I'm just having one of those times. I feel so lost.

But I was browsing through my blog earlier and found this entry, entitled, "Weren't You Afraid?", and a tear rolled down my cheek, because I was learning a lesson from myself, which is one of the blessings of having a written record of my thoughts.

It's a wonder to learn something from yourself. I think it has something to do with wisdom, which I hope to have some time when I'm old, and my parts don't work.

Part of me feels so far away from the person who wrote that. Slow, can't think thoughts or write words. I hope I come back to myself.

5/16/07 - Response Letter

2007-07-12T13:30:00.000-04:00

A response letter to a friend who wrote me in response to the last blog. I took out names for now out of respect, since I haven't asked his permission to publicize our conversation. I'll stick them back in if he has no problem with it:

______________________________________________

hey _____, thanks so much for your insight, i'm very excited to eventually get a chance to talk to you about such things.

I definitely fluctuate between defining my own identity and disassociating from it. I've come to think of it as a game, but just like winning and losing in games, if I feel like the story I'm unfolding has hit a wall, I start to get frustrated. I am a sore loser.

It's really, really helpful to be reminded to focus on the things I know, but have turned a blind eye to (again). I thank you for that.

As far as conclusions go, I've come to the conclusion that there is no such thing. I have an intuition that there's no answer to our most provoking questions, and the pursuit of such only reveals more questions. So it must be about the inquiry, and the joy and sorrow of it.

I'm okay with that. I just forget I'm okay with that, sometimes.

I empathize with what you went through with _______. The last person I was with (for most of college) lied to me several times about some seriously painful things before I literally couldn't bear to speak to him anymore.

It was a terrible time, my heart was completely broken, I felt my trust for other humans desintegrating, and with every new chance I gave him thrown in my face, I felt more and more like a fool.

Those kinds of things force you to question every little thing about yourself, whether it's reasonable or not. You wonder what was not good enough about you for the other person, what you might have done better, why the person they're with now is so superior to you in quality. You question the nature of human interaction, and whether or not it's meaningful at all. And so on.

Most importantly though, relationship aside, it forces you to look at yourself, and really try and see who it is you really are- the truth of it. Heartbreak might have been the most illuminating thing that has ever happened to me.

Here's a little thing that my life has brought to my attention recently, that I feel compelled to share with you for whatever reason-

- I thought for the better part of the last year and a half, when I was mostly solitary and healing, that I might never be able to trust or love again, or that past events had damaged my ability to do so. Since I've been in this city, I realized that things like that are never beyond our reach or lost to us.

The broken-hearted have had to peel away layers, and have become wiser for it. They realize that love and trust are not for everybody, and everything.

They are gifts that we give to this world, to those who bring it out in us. When we meet those people, no matter how much we've been hurt, there's no way in the world we will be able to help it. We can't help the loving, and the trusting.

I didn't know, but it pours out of you when you find someone worthy of it. I've been quite surprised, actually... it happens when you least expect it... and I know that sounds cliche, but there's truth to it, that's how it becomes cliche in the first place.

I understand what you mean about being comfortable floating in limbo. I have been quite comfortable, and happy-

- I know that I'm on the brink of something, though. Like I'm on the edge of a waterfall, and the floating is about to be pulled out from under me and something wild is about to happen. It's excitement and nervousness, is what it is. The other side to the floating, if I were to be taoist about it.

And yes, your words were a great aid. They came just at the right time. (namaste)

Josephine

5/14/07 - Running

2007-07-12T13:29:00.000-04:00

I've been thinking all day about what it means to run. To go. To move toward somewhere other than here, now.

I'd told myself when I moved into this apartment in Boston that I was going to put my roots into this urban garden, soak it all up and become a part of it before moving onward. The half-finished mural in my room was meant to be a testament to my semi-permanent commitment to this city.

Things are so different now than when I first laid paint on that wall.

I had a steady job, and good income. I felt like I was making progress. I was learning new things every day, and even though I was scared and nervous, it was an exhilarating sort of nervousness, without the heavy burden of worrying about how I was going to pay my rent, or what would happen next, at least for a few years. In that sense, it was like Maui.

Then, it seemed like everything fell apart. I quit my job because of awkward circumstances and suddenly the one reason I'd come to Boston had suddenly disappeared from the agenda. But I felt optimistic... the severence gave me time to think, and I'd fallen in love again and the excitement of a new relationship completely consumed me. I became infatuated with DJing, and I felt like I's successfully turned every unfortunate circumstance on its head; revealing a multitude of new opportunities.

And I guess that's where I am now... only my severence has run out, and there really never is enough time in this life to get your act together, at least, I feel like that time has flown by... and here I am... still as lost as I ever was.

I want to say optimistic things, but I don't feel that way. Things are good, I have good friends and a good roommate, a wonderful boyfriend and a new skill that I am learning... but sometimes, especially when I am washing dishes at the coffee shop or making someone a sandwich, I feel a deep sense of sorrow, because I don't know where I'm going with all of this.

I mean, what am I doing with myself. Where am I going.

Sometimes that kind of uncertainty feels good. That's when I feel good about writing about it, when it's exciting like that. I feel a little guilty right now because I don't feel good about it. I just feel really sad. It sits on my shoulder and it will sit there until this- whatever it is- passes.

I'm trying to remember who I was. Amanda had called me last night and we had an impromptu brainstorming session about an underwater fashion show. She calls every once in a while to let me know what is going on in Maui, and how I should be there for it, and that she is thinking of me.

Every once in a while I yearn to go back, and to feel what I felt then. I felt a sense of relief I'd never felt before or after- a great weight was lifted, and I thought, now that I know these things, I will never have to feel worry or anxiety again. I was wrong, because I forgot. Which is as natural as remembering again.

But it got me thinking, about running.

Going back to Maui, or to some other place, some island, or some other place I'd never been to. Late last night, eyes wide open, I said out loud what I'd said on the phone to Carl last week, and what I think to myself every once in a while lately, which is, "I don't know who I am anymore."

Nick was listening, and I think it worried him. I think he thought it might have something to do with him, but it really has everything to do with me and myself, as is the nature of self-conscious ramblings.

I felt the pull I'd felt before, when I left L.A. and ran off to Texas, and when I left Texas, and ran off to Maui. The same pull I felt every time I'd had it with school, and run off to the desert. The same pull I felt when I ran off to the jungle in Mexico, when I had fears that my life had become too mundane. And every time I've run, I've had the adventure of a lifetime.

I've had adventures enough for many lifetimes over, and there will be more to come... because I can't get enough of it. It's just a matter of time, is what I'm told.

Last night I was looking at the ceiling. I'd said what I said: "I don't know who I am anymore."

Suddenly I felt this intense need to run. To just go. Then I looked to my left and saw laying next to me this man, who I love and I felt confused, and for a moment I paused to ask myself 'why'.

Why run? Where am I going? What am I running from? And how many times have I asked myself this same question, over and over again. I thought about it a lot in Maui.

Oh gosh- I remember now. Why I left paradise.

I remember sitting on the grass lawn of the tantra school and staring at the ocean. The sun was perfect warm, and the cool breeze chased all the mosquitoes away and it was.... almost... the most perfect moment.

I remember thinking, I am running. I have run from my problems. They will all be there when I come back. This is why I can't be completely satisfied. It was like I'd gone to heaven too early.

So I came back, and things have become complicated again like they always are, and there is no relief in sight, because I'm not on an island thousands of miles away from the things in this world that reveal to me my own shortcomings.

I wanted to ask myself whether or not I was running away from a problem, or toward something I was meant to experience- but I already know the answer to that. I have this fear that I am not so clever and brilliant as I always thought I would be some day, in the future, when I wasn't quite so fucked up, or lost, or immature.

I do miss seeing the beauty in myself, though. That's what I saw in Maui. The beauty in myself. I'd like to see that again. I know it's there, somewhere.

At work today Tara saw the look on my face and said, "Quarter-life crisis?"

I guess so. She reminded me that everyone goes through this period of depression and feeling lost and having no direction. I thought to myself, I never intended to win the award for originality on this one. I know we're all going through the same things, and when we're old or dead, we all will have survived it. It's not that.

Alexia told me too, this will pass. Nick told me too, these things take time. I am nodding. I know. And then I realize that Tara told me everybody goes through these things so that maybe I will not feel so lonely about it. I think to myself, we are all alone together.

At work today Arie told me about his quarter-life crisis, in the form of a story. It really made me feel better. I really like stories, especially when people tell me about their lives, and what they were thinking and how they felt about it. For some reason I find it incredibly educational, even though when it comes to these things we are all equally lost and wondering.

At the end of this day I still don't know about running, or whether or not I will. I hunger so much for that relief, but I know it just delays the inevitable. Everyone at work said what a city person would say when I mentioned that I was thinking of going back to Maui: "I can see why you would want to go back there, but it's so far away from everything, and from the rest of the world. I mean, it's an island."

I think about meditation, and about focusing on nothing, instead of everything. In a way it's like running. But you always come back, and you come back more whole, somehow. That's how I always felt about it. Running, I mean.

I guess I'm just wondering if there's something to sweating it out, standing your ground, and staying in one place, too. I wish I had an answer so that I could come full circle, but that's not where I'm at-

- I'm somewhere out there instead, walking the scrawling line, wondering what kind of picture I'm painting.

5/4/07 - Loch ness Monster, You're the Greatest!

2007-07-12T13:28:00.000-04:00

I am very sick.

Poor Nick's car is totalled.

I'm in Texas.

My brother is moving into a house in the suburbs and becoming a high school calculus teacher.

My severence pay is about to run out tomorrow. AND my health insurance.

I need to find a new job.

My consciousness seems to have found itself suspended after swimming at the bottom of a bowl of gelatin for too long. My head feels cloudy, somebody eat me out.

That came out wrong. But you know what I mean.

The good news: Still 37 pounds lighter than my highest weight and maintaining an average of 25 pounds under my average weight for most of my adolescent and adult life. Why do I care? Because I've been watching TV all day.

The good news: I'm totally in love. There, I said it. And I mean it, whether or not that is a stupid thing to say. What prompted this? Well, two things: matter of fact and watching television.

The good news: There is a brighter side to all of those things that seem bad, and something to be learned from all of those things that seem confusing. And, if all there is to be learned is that life is neither good nor bad but just full of confusion- well, at least that's interesting.

I have a light blue kleenex stuffed up my left nostril. That's hot.

It's hot in my mom's house. Which isn't very cool.

I might have a fever. Or: I might have taken too much cold medicine today.

Either way.. things are a little crazy these days. I am excited about the new sets of opportunities that will present themselves when the dust settles. It's frustrating when something that should be there but isn't, or something that's going away isn't coming back, or when things will never be the way they were before.

But I guess, when something isn't there anymore, there's always another thing in its place, and it's never really nothing. Even if it looks and feels like it.

This is an optimistic way of saying I have a headache.

4/17/07 - (Really) Random Thoughts

2007-07-12T13:27:00.000-04:00

I'm not exactly sure why I decided to write a blog.

I remember something though. I wrote something, right after I quit my job at the lab, about a feeling I had, driving down the street and it's coming back to me right this moment

I suppose it doesn't make sense for me to recount it now so I'll just post a link. You can read the blog I'm talking about HERE, if you feel the need to.

What made me think of it just now... I've been walking around with my head half in the sand, and it's because I'm afraid. I was thinking, what will happen if I don't find a job in time? What will happen if things get hard, and I don't know how I will pay my rent?

My heart gets heavy and bitter when I think about expectations, and disappointment. Yesterday Nick and I drove to Providence and it was the first time I'd driven by my old work, and my old home since I quit my job.

We got lost in Quincy, near my old workplace. We'd gotten off the highway to get gas, and it was very difficult to find the onramp so that we could get back on track and it took us a long time to find it.

During that time, I had a flood of memories come back to me from the first parts of my life in Massachusetts. My heart feels heavy when I think of quitting my job. The closest thing I can think of to this feeling is the last time I had a broken heart.

I'd put so much of myself into that job. I'd decided to give it everything that was in me, and in a way it was my first relationship in a long while. And it broke my heart to have to quit. It's easy for me to look at my current uncertainties, in the face of change, and let my mind wander back to the reason why I am in this situation at all, and the unfairness of it all. I think of my old boss, and I get angry with him, like I used to get angry when I would think of my ex-boyfriend.

Angry about what? They are only human. Our lives just so happened to intersect in such a way.

Everything feels so heavy when I think of it that way. My head hurts. My heart hurts.

But-

- I don't know what made me think of it just then.... the drive home when I quit my job in Texas, and the uncertainty, and the kind of knowing that came with it. I didn't know what would happen. I bought a one way ticket to L.A. then without knowing where I was going, or what I was doing. I could have been scared, no, I was terrified.... just like I am right now.

But it's crazy. Tears welling behind my eyes. They threaten to break the surface tension and overflow in all directions. I wrote that about something else once. I wrote it about something that I thought was completely different. It wasn't about tragedy, or fear, or uncertainty. I wrote it about that feeling of being overwhelmed by the beauty of this life.

I know I've tried to say it a number of different ways, but let me try and say again...

... and I think this is something that happens when you feel not only Joy in it's purest form, but Sorrow as well-

because you need both to realize it feels exactly the same... cup overflowing, heart elevated and pushing against your chest, making it ache so much it brings tears to your eyes...

.. and then I guess you realize it feels the same for a reason. To me, it was as if suddenly I understood the sameness of it. Why joy and sorrow are feelings at all. Because you can feel it. It's about feeling. Looking into people's eyes and letting them see you, and you them. It's about opening the door- not only so things can get in, but so you can get out- and be part of this world.

And then I think to myself, who said that joy was good, and sorrow not, or that there is a line between pleasure and pain? It's all just things. Moving through a door.

Now I am thinking about the conversation I had with Nick, about love that has no words, and the difference between that love, and romance and passion. The love with no words is deep, resonating and consistent. It is the thing that ties us all together.

The romance and the passion is the dance between pleasure and pain. It's the fluctuating and unpredictable, and the kind of thing that adds flavor and distinction.

And then I think, it all comes together like the basslines of two songs when you're mixing, listening and learning to listen to the thing that ties those two things together, and pushing and pulling until they're in perfect synchronization.

It takes so much work to do that.

But once it's done, that's when you can start playing. And when you play, that's when you listen to the melodies and the words, the variations and the vocals, the drops and crescendos.

Even though it's all happening, all the time, the synchrony comes with listening and gentle reactions of the fingers pushing and pulling into place until it all lines up. The playing manifests intself through the listening and shifting some sort of 'sonic' focus... listen now to this bassline... listen now to these beautiful bell sounds, or now don't listen to this at all and hear this completely different thing that somehow sounds like it is part of the other by virtue of the things they have in common... it's all so beautifully, perfectly metaphorical.

Have you ever heard someone say something terribly general, like 'It's not about the answer, it's about the question?'

What am I getting at.

I guess I am just happy to have experienced so many different things. To have had a life (thus far) of infinite variety. I feel like that's what it must have taken for me to see what I see at this moment, which is that it's all the same, and in a way that once you can see it that way, allows you to be an artist of your life.

It's as if I can finally see that I'v been provided with this generous palette for my soul to paint its completely unpredictable, infinitely complex and truly beautiful signature... somewhere... if anything, upon the palettes of other people's souls...

... and it makes the question of 'what is the meaning of life' seem laughable. That's like asking what the point of playing is.

I forget a lot about these sorts of things. (I guess I remember a lot about them too...) These are the times that I feel scared, I guess. I really must watch myself. Always watching, always learning and unlearning. Sometimes talking in circles.

Sometimes forgetting. Always being reminded. It's a whirlwind of a game.

My mind is a-flutter but I'm not too worried because it always seems to sort itself out, eventually. As usual I'd sat myself down to write about something completely different.

I wanted to write about how I was afraid to be in love but falling in love, anyway. About how movies about romance are only an hour and half long, and the pessimistic people are always the ones running in slow-motion toward each other in the end. It's never as complicated as in real life, not because it's just a story (we're really all just stories, anyway) but because it's only an hour and a half long, and not a lifetime, or two.

I am so scared of romantic love. I know that any pain I might experience in the future is one in the same with the unparalleled pleasure you get from the butterflies, and the longing, and the indulgent serendipity of two souls intersecting, briefly or otherwise.

I guess I'm thinking about how I'm scared, anyway. And also realizing how little I know myself, or anything about anything really.

I'm semi-aware of the fact that I'm rambling, and about nothing in particular. I feel very much like I don't know what I'm talking about. And then something in my mind echoed the words of my tantra teacher just now. "Feel Your Feet."

Feet on the ground. Eyes to the infinite sky. The soles of my feet firmly planted, I'm thinking of, and my mind expanding infinitely, as far as it can fathom. It's about balance, right? I remember now.

I'm thinking about sand in the ocean when the waves crash, all tumbled up, and the water is foggy and you can't see. That's how I feel right now. Everything is changing.

4/9/07 - Re-

2007-07-12T13:26:00.000-04:00

I feel this huge sense of relief, even though it's just from myself, and my thoughts.

I haven't been writing much and that was bothering me, and also not really playing guitar or thinking too much about what to do with myself. I worry a lot about whether or not I'm making progress, or moving in any direction in my life. If there's anything I have a fear of, it's stagnation.

It's a silly thing to worry about especially since I'm aware that my life has changed so drastically in every direction in the past few years... just like it's about to change again, and really soon when my severence runs out and I am burped back out into the 'cold, harsh real world'.

But there it is. I'd been thinking about when I left Maui and the intentions I'd set- which I realize now I've never written about, but have faithfully kept in the back of my head since the moment I stepped on the plane and waved 'Aloha' to the island that set my heart free.

They were as follows:

1) There was a sense of clarity and knowingness that I had only caught glimpses of before... which I felt so consistently that I believed it to be a part of me that was timeless, and would never go away.

I came to Kahua and every beautiful thing reflected it back into my retinas and ears and fingers and mouth in such a way that I could see it with my eyes closed, or open, or full of tears.

I could see it in the persistent and unrelenting beauty of every person's radiant face and body, no matter what shape or proportion. I saw it in the majesty of every crashing wave, waterfall, bird, flower and plant that even now leaves me at a loss for words, and that photographs do no justice.

I could hear it in the insects, and the wind in the trees, and the crashing of the waves and the ringing in my ears resonate on one frequency... low... rumbling... it breaks your heart and you fall on your knees and palms and look down into the grass and the ants are singing along with it...

I could feel it when sand fell through my fingers, and when I jumped into the warm ocean under the hot setting sun and it was like diving into liquid gold, luminescent and salty, letting me float. I could feel it when the wind blew my skirt and made me feel like I was flying, and in the soles of my feet on burning hot rocks and icy cool grass.

I could taste it in the tiny yellow pineapples that we watched all summer, waiting for them to ripen. In the papayas that turn yellow and cry for you to pull them off the tree in a way that a person completely in love wants to give every ounce of their being to the soul that holds their heart. I could taste it when Amanda and I scooped a passion fruit out into a papaya and ate the two together, and realized that it didn't matter who was responsible for such perfection... just that it was just that- perfection- put on this planet for us to discover with our tongues.

What was It....

... It was in our fingers touching, and our mouths tasting, and our eyes seeing, and our ears hearing. Everything. All of it. It was realizing that this overwhelming beauty couldn't EXIST without us- us, being TRULY present, and REALLY there, to play the crucial and sacred role of finding it beautiful.

It was a blessed interaction with the world around us. We were so blessed, all the time... and all we had to do was see, and hear, and touch, and taste. It was bigger than winning every prize in the world, because it was like winning every prize that our imaginations could conjure, even when it came to intangible things like the human soul, or the universe.

It was so important for me to know that this could still be a consistent part of me outside of Maui, no matter where I was, or under whatever circumstance. I needed to know that I could do this. That it wasn't a dream. That it wasn't an illusion veiled over my eyes... some sort of inner-beautiful mirage brought on by the overwhelming decadence of living in paradise. In other words, I needed to know that it would still be there, even in a city, surrounded by strangers, in a place I'd never been to, that is cold and dark eight months out of the year.

To tell you the truth, I was afraid I would leave Maui and lose myself in the confusion and complexity of life outside of our little island. That I wouldn't be able to see the sun through the smog, or hear anything over the roar of the city, or feel anything because I have numbed myself to protect myself from things that may hurt me, or taste anything because food is just a thing we put in our bodies to keep us from running out of the energy it takes to survive, both mentally and physically.

I was afraid I would forget how to see, and hear, and touch, and taste.

And now as I've written this, I'm laughing because it seems that I'd forgotten that the 'forgetting' is part of it all. We forget things so we can remember them... to feel this thing that I'm feeling right now, this remembering, which is wonderful.

And I remember it here, in Boston, which is beautiful in a completely New and Different way that adds another dimension of beauty to the way that I experience being alive.

2) I knew I was meant to learn something very important by accepting the job offer and the re-location to Boston, regardless of whether or not the job worked out... and I intended to learn that lesson, whatever it was.

And it's funny, because in a way I knew what was going to happen, even though I never could have predicted it and I had no control over the outcome. I'd told Amanda then, and on the balcony of our hidden surrealist castle which we'd struggled long and hard to find, that this would be El Ano Fuerte, the year of strength. That hard times would come, and many things would be out of our control, but that we would move through it gracefully like water over a cliff-

- water transformed into water. Constantly changing but always, in it's truest essence, just what it is. And strong enough- with the knowledge that anything is possible over a long enough timeline and that life is long- to carve stone and reshape this world. That we could, and we would- no matter what happened to us- and just by Being.

3) After I'd seen Gabriel play for the last time, I realized that I would not hear anything quite like that in Boston, because it just simply wasn't there.

Yet.

I told Amanda that in two years I would be a Ninja - Fairy - DJ: that I would playing in clubs in Boston and enrapturing people the way I was enraptured, and made to dance because I couldn't help it, soul-cleansed, mind-cleared. Gabriel gave me a gift from his ears to mine, and I fully intended to, with enough listening and passion, take something that had given me joy and re-create it through my own ears, and creativity, and perspective, which is wholly unique in a way that everyone else's is, too.

I haven't been writing because the time for me to write was not then, but Now. I had just been doing something other than writing; I have been expressing myself to the people around me in words, and facial expressions, fingertips and smiles, which is what I do when I am meeting new people in a new place.

I haven't been playing guitar because I've been learning to DJ- re-configuring auditory synaptic connections in a way that excites me so much it is electrifying, and you (I mean You) can feel it. I may not have played guitar in a few weeks. But I have never in my life been so immersed in what is happening to my ears, and how I am hearing it than I am now. And that is something worth reckoning.

And I haven't been thinking about so-called progress because it's already happening, and effortlessly... so much so that it feels so fun that the lack of struggle is unfamiliar to me and feels like Play.

I was feeling lost this morning, and worried. There are a lot of things to worry about if you look at it one way.

It's funny, and also okay. I just forgot you could see it other ways... and I see it another way right now, for now.

The perfection all around me. Smell in my nose, beautiful people in my presence, old wood floor full of history under my feet. Inspired fingertips and listening ears. Laughing mouth, gorgeous old city in my eyes. The unparalleled, appreciative look on people's faces after eight months as they gradually realize that soon it will be warm.

Perfection all around me. Nothing like Maui. Everything like me and the world working together to make beauty exist.

3/30/07 - Morning Musings on Flatulence and Love

2007-07-12T13:25:00.002-04:00

Session Start (Hemillsy:mtraceboston): Fri Mar 30 09:23:25 2007

[09:23] mtraceboston: i'm gassy
[09:23] hemillsy: ... I'm sorry?
[09:26] mtraceboston: not as sorry as you'd be if you were sitting in my car right now!
[09:27] hemillsy: gosh nick. your flatulence makes me so hot
[09:27] hemillsy: i'm totally touching myself right now
[09:27] hemillsy: and by touching myself I mean not. touching myself.
[09:27] mtraceboston: oh snap.
[09:27] mtraceboston: your sarcasm totally turns me on
[09:27] mtraceboston: and that's not a joke
[09:27] hemillsy: hehe

[09:37] mtraceboston: It takes patience to appreciate domestic bliss; volatile spirits prefer unhappiness.
George Santayana
[09:37] mtraceboston: :)
[09:38] hemillsy: that's far-sighted
[09:38] mtraceboston: how so?
[09:38] hemillsy: volatile spirits prefer what 'patient domestic-types' perceive as unhappiness
[09:39] hemillsy: volatile spirits prefer volatility
[09:39] hemillsy: clearly
[09:39] hemillsy: the only constant is change
[09:40] hemillsy: in buddhism, recognizing that and embracing it releases you from samsara, the cycle of pain
[09:41] hemillsy: I just call it 'loving the feeling of the sand as it slips through your fingers, resigning itself to gravity'
[09:42] mtraceboston: volatility=passion. should love be floating on a calm sea or riding the crest of a wave?
[09:43] hemillsy: it would have to do both, don't you think?
[09:43] hemillsy: it's hard to stay balanced with such unpredictability
[09:44] hemillsy: in chemistry and biology, volatile means reactive

[09:47] mtraceboston: hmm i like throwing out literary skeets for you to shoot down :)
[09:47] mtraceboston: i like the way your brain works
[09:48] hemillsy: heh, what do you mean by that
[09:49] mtraceboston: i just think you're a skeptic and you don't take anything at face value. and that is a good trait.
[09:49] mtraceboston: however ... you're also kind of an idealist
[09:49] hemillsy: that is correct

[09:50] mtraceboston: Love is the answer, but while you're waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty interesting questions.
[09:50] mtraceboston: - Woody Allen
[09:54] hemillsy: woody allen was born on my birthday
[09:54] mtraceboston: really? do you like woody allen?
[09:54] hemillsy: a skeptic and an idealist...
[09:55] mtraceboston: you don't look nearly as old as him ...
[09:55] hemillsy: i like to call myself a realist who knows a little bit about what the Truth looks like
[09:55] hemillsy: not a big fan of woody allen

[09:56] mtraceboston: how bout Jean Baudrillard?
[09:56] mtraceboston: here's another one to take apart ...
[09:56] mtraceboston: If you say, I love you, then you have already fallen in love with language, which is already a form of break up and infidelity.
[10:00] hemillsy: I agree
[10:01] hemillsy: you can fall in love with language
[10:01] hemillsy: and in a way that is a betrayal
[10:02] hemillsy: but language can add richness to a situation just as much as it can add confusion
[10:02] hemillsy: love has no words,
[10:02] hemillsy: but you can't have romance without symbolic gestures and metaphors and other such non-absolute things
[10:03] hemillsy: and we like romance. and to stumble and fall.
[10:03] hemillsy: we can do both. we can love without words, because we can't help that kind of love
[10:03] hemillsy: and we can love with romance and symbolism. that's passion.
[10:10] mtraceboston: :)

3/27/07 - you Know How You Know You Stepped on Glass?

2007-07-12T13:25:00.001-04:00

because it fucking hurts, clearly.

I haven't been too good about blogging with frequency but hey, it comes and goes.

Still waiting on the turntables- (c'mon, Bjoooooorn) and Shannon is hooking me up with the Stanton mixer that he learned to play on... Nick's loaning me speakers and headphones until the time is proper to buy my own... and then we're set. I am quiet with anticipation.

Usually if I haven't gotten around to writing it's because I'm pretty satisfied in general at the moment- I really love my job at ERC and all my co-workers but I'm feeling like it's about time to get a real job- since I decided to spend my travelling money on DJ equipment I've got to 'fess up to the fact that I'm not going anywhere for a while so I may as well find a job that pays better and with health insurance...

... and I'm glad I still have health insurance until May because I've been to the emergency room twice in two weeks; once for the stomach flu and once yesterday to get the biggest fucking shard of glass removed from my foot... a five-hour wait later I'm well on my way to foot relief- still limping but I managed an 8 hour shift on my feet at the coffee shop so things should be fine.

Not much to say except I'm pretty content and confident with the way things are going... my schedule is pleasantly full of fun things to do, my relationship, while still terrifying to me (as relationships should be), is going well, and I'm making (good) friends quickly. I love it.

Creativity-wise, it's all about DJing. This is the quiet before the storm. More later.

3/22/07 - (Technics SL1200 MK3D) x2 = shit's about to go DOWN

2007-07-12T13:23:00.000-04:00

Now I'm really ushering in a new era.

In the last blog I was debating between buying a set of turntables and going back to Maui and I made the (very difficult) decision the other day to do it:

I talked to Bjorn-san last night and we caught up and it was beautiful. I had flashbacks of endless blissed out nights smoking pot and ingesting cyberpunk media in everyway possible from pulsing Venetian Snares until the house shook to hours-long marathons of Lain: Serial Experiments to covering the whole house in wires, snowed out TVs found on the street while blaring the mix that Bjorn and Mike blew up a lot of equipment to make.

Here's a picture of us dressed like Victorian dolls in petticoats before a noise show. Now imagine both of us slinging sizeable bottles of Jack Daniel's, half-bloody and moshing in them. That's how we rolled.

A while ago, I had mentioned to our friend Christopher Robin that I was learning to DJ. He reminded me that Bjorn (my lovely, amazing roommate from L.A., for those of you who don't know) had been looking to sell her turntables for years.. and a few days later I got a call from her so here's what's going on:

We agreed on $500 for the pair of them, and I am MAD excited. This is huge. I'm so happy to buy them from Bjorn and relocate them from Scarff house in L.A. to Westland ay-pee-tee in Boston. They're like old friends, faithfully busting out Aphex Twin and so on for years.

The model: Technics SL-1200 MK3D

And this is what my new babies look like. I've been trying to think of where they'll go in my tiny apartment and decided I'll just shuffle around my little desk and it'll all work out. They're definitely going under Tara, the goddess painted on my tibetan tangka (on the left of the photograph of my room before bookshelves).

She reminds me every day that I see her to feel it all like 'yum' and the three couples in yabyum above her head remind me that she represents everything I learned in tantra school.

It only makes sense to play something as intense and sexy as dubstep under her watchful eyes (all seven of them).

Sweet fucking turntables: check.
Starter collection of heart-breakingly good dubstep: check.
Best teacher in the world: check.

Next on the list: finding a decent mixer.

Well on my way. This is how serious I am. (note to self: making a serious face does not show up on blog)

3/21/2007 - Stepping In Your Sleep

2007-07-12T13:22:00.001-04:00

okay. It's 4:30 in the morning and I can't sleep for how excited I am about dubstep.

Nick gave me my first lesson today and I loved it... I went to sleep replaying what he was teaching me in my head and getting excited about what little more I understand. The bass that was playing won't stop resonating in my memory; it's playing nonstop relentlessly in my head as I type this (trying quietly.. Nick sleeping in the other room)

And usually I find this annoying but here's the part: I fucking love it. It kind of makes me crazy. I can't stop thinking about practicing and getting closer-closer, and more and more en pointe. It makes me wish it wasn't four in the morning and I could do something about it.

It's a little frightening because it's like a new itch that has to be scratched up there with 'hungry', 'thirsty', 'need cigarette' and other such things. I was sitting here earlier debating whether or not I should go to Maui or buy a set of turntables since I do not think I can afford to do both. That's how much I'm excited about the dubstep.

I was worried I would get sick of my favorite tunes, but I don't think I will (of course I don't know this yet). All night the two I was working with have been playing in my brain and making my soul dance, and it's tough because it's really fucking hot music and it doesn't necessarily make me horny per se, but it does make me feel hot and bothered, if that makes any sense. Agitated, but in a good way. The kind of good feeling that makes guys get boners on the massage table... it's not because the massage makes them feel horny, it's just because it feels good... and then you just kind of open into it.

It feels good to play music this way because I get to interact with sound in a whole different way than just listening to it. I get to listen for things I heard before, but that I can change now with slight finger pressures. I love that you move the sound back and forth in time with the flick of a wrist in order to synchronize it with another set of sounds. I think that's beautiful, moving time like that.

I get to hear something I already love to hear, and then play with it and make other things with it. I get to take these things that I have chosen and like, and then contribute my character to it. I can't think of a more perfect medium for me, actually... and it just slays me that I get to work with SOUND.

It's not like guitar, where I'll always hit a wall because I'll never get around to learning all the chords. My hands will probably never do the 'thing' and my guitar won't just play awesome things if I let it play by itself. I don't know if I felt this way about guitar, because with this, I feel like I just discovered something enormous like sex.

I remember Gabriel watching us dance in Maui and at Burning Man... and watching him gauge the crowd. When he saw we were slowing down from fatigue, he would slow it down and we would catch our breaths without even knowing it. Then he would build it up until you couldn't stand it anymore and then drop it when all you could do was explode and outpour full-blown onto the dancefloor, or junglefloor, or playafloor.

His subtle observations and reactions were so undetectable you'd find yourself dancing for hours without stopping, and even when your body couldn't dance anymore you would be possessed and seduced by the music until your exhausted body became enraptured by something unreal,

and that was something like witchcraft, or something like a medicine to me. It occurred to me, watching everyone, that Gabriel was a mover of souls- that he loved to watch and take part when these people moved their souls and were healed by whatever it is that heals us when we move, when we dance.

I love that. I want to make people move because we need it and we want it. I want every tension and stress to shake out of the soles of their feet for no other reason except that they feel empassioned, and compelled to. That is a beautiful thing.

But I have been rambling for half an hour now and should probably go back to bed. My point was I'm so happy to work with music, and to feel like I will probably be good at it.

I don't mean 'good' in the sense of being talented, but good in the sense of it suiting me- like neuroscience suited me, and photography and painting. Like writing. Like the other things I could do forever without care of whether or not I were 'good' in the traditional sense, but because I just love it, and it fascinates me endlessly.

It's the best kind of 'good'. Because it's as effortless as finding joy in something.

I hope I can slip a few minutes of practice in before work tomorrow morning. *yawn*. Go to sleeeep, Josephine.

3/12/2007 - resonant brain splatter

2007-07-12T12:50:00.000-04:00

okay.

I figured it out now. You know how I pledged to become a ninja fairy DJ when I was still in Maui and about to move to Boston? I feel like it sounds when our dear Willem goes 'UH'.

There was something, Amanda, remember about the giant robots fuckin throwing down stomping on the ground resonating sound deep in our bones and in our bellies and I was possessed like I couldn't not dance even if I tried and double negatives frying your I's in the back of your eyes from all the subsonic vibration silent killing going on feeling like cathartic love-making all slow and intense and focused and direct and your brain has become so inverted its synapses are clawing outward through every cell in your body and you can FEEL it, every cell, every sensation and pressure and it sounds like muted groaning and it feels like ___________?

Holy shit. I feel like every person has a frequency that resonates with them, just like they have a height and an eye color and a shoe size and a nature to them. And mine, it's slow, and intense, and dark. Like dubstep.

So lesson number one in Mr. Nick Dika's School for Ninja Fairy DJs: learn to spin dubstep. Oh gosh. My hips shudder I'm so excited to learn. Record-buying spree this week.

3/7/07 - R.I.P., Canon PowerShot 3.2 megapixel digicam

2007-07-12T12:49:00.002-04:00

Dear Canon PowerShot 3.2 megapixel digital camera,

You had a really solid two and a half year run, I'd have to say. You made it through several trips to the desert, a few trips across the country, about a dozen moves, numerous hazardous environments involving water and/or electricity,drugs, beer and flooding. You made it through being wrapped in plastic so that I wouldn't get blood on you while photographing the gruesome details of my laboratory job.

You made it through a few hundred times of being dropped, and you faithfully deposited pictures into my equally pulverized iBook even though your lense shutter didn't close anymore and you were so scratched up and beaten that people laughed at me when I took you out.

You even made it through the jungles of Maui and being borrowed by Kavel, the strange, emaciated stinky boy with the pube beard who got voted out of the tantra commune. You made it through waterfalls and dust storms, and over the deep blue ocean to Lana'i.

I'm probably proudest that you made it through burning man, through all the dust storms that blacked out the sun. You kept on shooting even when everyone told me that if you bring a camera to burning man, it would not leave fuctional for all the dust that would end up inside it.

I also got melted chocolate on you so that the playa would stick to you, and to your sockets. You are a fuckin trooper, is what I'm getting at.

No, you faithfully worked until I shot a 300+ suicide girls set for rachel and deposited it onto my equally damaged iBook. You took fabulous pictures day after day on every adventure I've been on for the past two and a half years. And then you died.

So what can I say, you lasted way longer than I or the laws of nature, chaos and gravity could have ever expected you to. I am thoroughly impressed. I'd take a picture of your beat up, sorry state and post it on this blog, but you're dead. Oh well.

love,

Jo

3/6/07 - Nightmare Vision

2007-07-12T12:49:00.001-04:00

I had a dream the other night that felt a lot like the vision I had during my ayahuasca journey, in that it felt like a message was being brought to me in the form of a very vivid and intense scenario.

I mean. I guess that's what a 'vision' is, technically.

This one is recurring... I don't remember details exactly at this point but I thought it was worth noting.

I was in a room with a lover, and friends sitting on the floor and smoking a cigarette. I little girl comes in and I feel ashamed for smoking in front of her so I motion to put it out.

In this particular scenario My mom comes into the room and is very angry with me. She pulls out a blue shoe and makes a motion to hit me but I kick a table in between us and tell everyone to 'get the fuck out of the room'. I don't want them to see me get beaten.

A fight proceeds, and it is mostly defensive on my part... I am being kicked and slapped and hit and hit with the shoe, and I'm trying to push her away.... I'm not really getting badly hurt, but it is definitely a very negative situation-

There's lots of anger and crying and screaming. I'm getting my ass beat, basically. I don't feel as if I'd done anything to deserve it.

Just when it gets really bad I feel really hot and sweaty and exhausted and sad and angry and all these things combined.

And then something happens like fingers snapping and my mom and I are in the same room, only it's got this golden feeling to it, all iridescent and full of gorgeous flowers and gardens. It's really really beautiful, and my mom looks at me with so much love in her eyes and she says 'It's so beautiful, and you're so beautiful and I love you so much'. And then she hugs me.

And it feels nice, but I'm confused. I feel exhausted because I suddenly get the distinct feeling that this exact thing has happened over and over and over again, where I get beaten to a pulp and then, like fingers snapping, everything is more than okay. It makes me so tired.

I look at her and I ask her, "Why does this keep happening?"

I really had this heavy feeling, like a million years of being beaten and then everything being beautiful like it was never horrible. It feels heavy, and not quite right. It feels completely confusing and deceiving.

I can't remember if my mom answered my question. I don't think she did, I think I just started crying, because I couldn't understand about being beaten over and over again and then suddenly everything being okay over and over again. I was overwhelmed with the wrongness of it and I just couldn't stop crying. Apparently I must have been crying in real life because Nick told me I'd been sobbing in my sleep pretty much all night and he was worried.

Now that I write it down it makes sense to me. It's a hard thing to put into words and it has no answer or wisdom to it. It really makes me relate to the child in me, though.

It makes me see my perspective for what it is. I think I realize there's a lot more to it than I am currently aware of. I hope I can see past it some day.

3/4/07 - Quoted as an Expert

2007-07-12T12:47:00.002-04:00

Not to bring up the sore subject of an ill-fated career, but I just got an e-mail from Stacy Tisdale, a CNN correspondent who interviewed me for her book about 'Life Planning', which is the common label for the type of financial advising I was working in.

I thought it was pretty hilarious since I'd only been working there for three months to be quoted as an expert, but who am I to correct, I get to be in a book (even though it's probably not going to be that great).

So here's the quote that's going to be published. I would have worded it better but it's alright:

"While it is important to become aware of powerful messages, don't get lost in trying to figure out where they came from, or whether or not they are true. That's not where the truth is! It is productive and enlightening to go about the inquiry of it, but most importantly, it is important to realize that this is something you are thinking about, and not who you are."

- Josephine Tempongko, 'Life Planner', SG LLC

2/27/07 - Today on "Post-Graduate Anxious Rantings"

2007-07-12T12:47:00.001-04:00

I woke up this morning in a wretched mood for some reason.

Was having one of those narcoleptic sorts of days yesterday where I'd get all revved up like, 'ALRIGHT! Gonna start painting/ cleaning my apartment/ doing my have-to-do's now!" ...and then instead of charging for the paintbrush, or picking shit up, or buying necessaries, I'd charge straight into my bed and pass out. It's like there was me and Productivity, and we were facing off, and I totally faked that bitch out.

So naturally due to my excessive amount of sleep, I woke up at 7:30 this morning without an alarm, got up and had my cereal but it was a disgruntled affair because I had no cigarette (since buying cigarettes was on my list of things I didn't do yesterday). The iPod shuffle gods were dually disappointing too, playing all sort of mushy sad garbledy-gook when all I wanted was some Nirvana or something, and not the sad shit, I mean the 'I wanna fuck you up but I don't care enough" stuff.

I thought maybe since I was deprived of one habit I should pick up another, more productive one so I resolved to read the news each morning, even though I swore off it after listening to NPR so obsessively and I started to have anxiety attacks.

So I go to Yahoo! News (I thought I'd start off with some soft, crappy news) and the headline reads:

"Cheney OK After Afghan Blast; 14 Killed"

What a ray of sunshine. And there's this picture of Dick looking really fucking smug, I mean, check it out:

That look on his face makes you want to suckerpunch the guy even if you didn't know anything about him. If I were making him a latte I'd spit in his drink, and then I'd get someone with something terrible like mouth gonorrhea to spit in his drink, too.

Maybe deciding to pick up the news again when you're having an 'off' morning is a bad idea.

For some reason I continue to scan the 'news' and my eyes are glazing over... 'War... Death..... Wardeath....'

And it's not that I'm apathetic. I just realized after years of freakouts that if I get really upset everytime I find out someone somewhere in the world died, or unfair shit is happening, then I'll look 80 by the time I'm 30 and no lives will have been saved.

Somewhere near the bottom of the fish barrel is this article entitled: "Study: College Students More Narcissistic", which makes me laugh. I always love it when media cites "Studies" (/sarcasm). Because it could have been a study with four stoned guys at a coffee table, or some PhD student with a pen and pencil and one monkey.

Point being, most of the time these sorts of 'puff' studies are statistically inconsequential- psychological studies in particular. If anyone's reading this, just remember that there is no such thing as tangible evidence when evaluating psyche. There are such an unbelievable number of correlated factors that no study of the mind without, for example, neuro-imaging data should ever be considered 'hard evidence'.

All that aside, I still think it's hilarious that someone decided to point out that college students are narcissistic. I mean.... no shit. College is all about building up your confidence, making you think you're learning something useful and that you've got talents that you can use in the real world to make abstract things like 'a living'. You see, this is only half of the lesson you get to learn by having a college education.

The other half is taking your well-educated, critical-thinking ass, slapping a huge debt on you, and nudging you out into the real world. It's here that all your pre-conceived notions of fairness, nobility, philanthropy and idealism get bitchslapped front-and-back when you realize you've got bills to pay, and no one wants to pay you for the things you've learned, at least not for another five or ten years.

In other words, the next few years after college exist so that the ego you've built up in school can be properly pulverized and destroyed. But despair not.

It's my theory (although I am still in the midst of Part II of this educational process) that these two things are required in order to have two things:

- the skills and sense of motivation and ambition necessary to kick ass... eventually.... in the real world, and

- the sense of reality that helps you to visualize and evaluate 'what it takes', compare that with your current values, undergo a little 'value re-evaluation', and then do what needs to be done, whatever that is

Oh and I just thought of another few, which I think are what seperates the rockstars from the groupies, which is:

- really being able to see the reality of who you are, and what you're capable of, and
- developing the courage to be fucking terrified of uncertainty, and still be okay with that.

Yeah. Those are big. I think.

What's the point of all this. I suppose I woke up in a panic this morning for some reason. Are you the kind of person that swears like they've got Tourette's under normal circumstances, and then you're hanging out with your itty bitty grandma and you let a 'fucking cunt shit' slip and you clap your hand over your mouth but the damage is done?

I have fears like this when I'm getting into a relationship, of saying shit I really shouldn't say. Man it makes me nervous.

But I know how it goes. You gotta ask yourself, 'Is it worth the trouble?' and as long as it is, it just is. So fuck yeah, it is.

Besides. My grandmother is super cool, and she wouldn't mind that much. Hopefully Nick is the same way.

Right on. Over and out

-J

2/23/07 - "I Know It's a Slang Word for Vagina.... Twice..."

2007-07-12T12:44:00.000-04:00

this is going to be one of those blogs that isn't very well written, but I just need to take some mental notes.

the past few weeks have been such a rollercoaster ride. part of me is still suffering from the loss of my job and the situation I am still currently enduring with regard to my old boss, who is still calling and e-mailing me. it stresses me out so much and makes me really uncomfortable and nervous.

i'm trying so hard not to bring lawyers into it but I really am at the end of my line. All I want is to be left alone and for this to be over.

when I don't think of that terrible mess and take a look at my new life, it really is quite beautiful. It's a great opportunity, I live in a city I really love, and I love my roommate and my apartment. I just started working at Espresso Royale, the coffee shop down the street from my apartment and I love my co-workers and the hectic environment and the music and the hard work.

I don't mind that I don't get paid much. I love what I'm doing, going through the whole thought process of "I have two college degrees, why am I making lattes?"

I'm glad for the experience of it and no doubt I will learn a lot through internal musings and just living it.

I just met someone who is really _______ (I don't have a word for it) and I know I haven't been writing about it, but I don't think anything tangible will come out of my mouth except gushing because it's all coming from somewhere other than the mind.

This part of things is really what's making me fly all over the place and upside down these days. No point to be made except I feel blessed in all sorts of ways (so many) and sometimes you've just gotta say so.

I just had one of the best nights of my life last night. Rachel suggested we go to dinner at the restaurant she works at, Cuchi Cuchi and it was spectacular; so cozy, the decor was gorgeous as were all the workers in their vintage Hollywood attire. The food.... wow. I swooned over possibly the best oysters I will ever have in my life. Everything about it was beautiful, the way it looked, and tasted, the ambience, my roommate bustling around with a beautiful silver water pot, pouring it into people's cups like she were a goddess.

At the end of the night Rachel had these amazing truffles sent to our table. Amanda, you would have cried. Everything we ate just had so much attention to flavor combinations and textures and presentation. The chinese-spiced truffle made me want to cry from how interesting it tasted. We still have three left: Jamaican curry, goat cheese and burnt caramel. I can't wait to eat those bietches.

I'm so excited to hear music and to dance and to meet good people. Ali has been my Boston angel for so many reasons, giving me her apartment, introducing me to people and dragging me out to parties and introducing me to wonderful people, who then introduce me to even more wonderful people...

... I can't wait to get to know them...

2/15/07 - Dust It off, Keep It Swingin'

2007-07-12T12:43:00.000-04:00

When in doubt, follow your dreams.

Yesterday during the two hours I was awake I looked up a bunch of lectures and events around the Boston area. Today after working at Espresso Royale in the morning (and sleeping through the entire afternoon... of course... maybe I made my room too cozy) I went to a Q&A session at BU with Webster Bull- founder of Commonwealth Editions, a publishing company he founded out of the trunk of his car (literally) eight years ago which has grown into one of New England's most successful small publishing companies (named 2006 Publisher of the Year by the New England Bookseller's Association).

The lecture was called 'An Informational Evening for Writers'. It sounded pretty bland.

But something was telling me I'd do best to go, so I went to see Webster. And I'm glad I did. I'm not really sure what I was trying to accomplish... he and Caroline, head of the New England Writer's Union asked me the same question: "Are you a writer?" and it was hard for me to answer because I wasn't sure what that meant. Caroline said, 'Well, are you a new writer?' and I replied. 'I guess?' I had no idea what being a writer meant in the publishing world but I had a feeling I was not one, at least in that sense, yet.

I told Webster I've been writing every day of my life for the past seven years. He said he wished every day he could do that, and that was why he started doing what he does. I didn't really see why he couldn't.. it only takes a few minutes.

But then again I realize they might have a different definition of what writing is in the publishing world, just like they have a different definition of what being a writer is.

The session was small, intimate and fantastic. My favorite kind. Webster introduced me to his daughter Martha who is about my brother's age, and about to graduate from U of Chicago and move to NYC. I asked her to contribute to my media project. She said she didn't write creatively, but that she'd written about things she was excited about.

They might have a definition of what writing is in the publishing world, but for my book, I am looking for people writing about things that they are excited about. So Martha will be contributing to the CMP.

There was a lot of insight gained from both the session and my conversations with Webster, a few notable quotes and notions:

- "There is a false dichotomy between being creative and being commerce-oriented" (something I'd been learning a little bit about at my old job... and indeed my brief experience with Oleg has opened doors for creative potential that I didn't know existed... a veritable 'wardrobe to Narnia' so to speak)

- "I started out in Magic" - Webster commenting on how he started out founding a vaudeville-style magic theater company in his late 20s

- On the future of books: "A book is a physical object in the home that tells a person who they are."(A big question in publishing is whether or not books will be replaced by other media. Bull's belief was that 80% of books will be replaced by other media, but that the other 20% would be valued as a physical presence. He referred to the Family Bible, and how once, there was one in every home.)

- On how he got into publishing- "I believe in detours. Take lots of them, take all of them if you can. It's important to surround yourself with the people you want to be around- the people that inspire you and enrich your life. I was fortunate enough to have a lot of mentors, one in particular has been my mentor since I was 19 years old (he is 55) and he has helped me out every step of the way."

Webster also taught me a lot about the business aspect of publishing, tips on what is best self-published versus outsourced, what aspects you can cut financial corners on, and which aspects (copy-editing, book design) you should NOT cut corners on.

Webster also offered to let me use his publishing company's printing rate with his favorite press in Chicago when the time is right. Using his resources, I could have a professionally copy-edited, professionally designed book published in an edition of 2000 for about $2.50 per book. Which is unbelievable.

I'm feeling pretty good about where this is going.

Webster is a great contact to have- he talks about me for a while in his speech which will be in podcast form whenever Chris Kenneally posts it, called "Beyond the Book". I'll keep you updated.

I'm going to make something amazing soon. It's going to be amazing because it is going to be me helping YOU make something amazing. I'm just gathering the skills.

I really did learn something from all this. And I'm going to keep learning, every day.

2/14/07 - Here We Go.... Again...

2007-07-12T12:39:00.000-04:00

Carl left yesterday and it looks like the proverbial shit storm is starting to die down. The first big snow in Boston has come and gone and now there are just piles of nasty grey and brown slush everywhere and the occasional ice patch that you have to watch out for, or, since it's hard to see, just learn to slip gracefully upon.

But the sun is out, and the icicles, they're melting and they drip on your head from time to time if you don't notice you're walking half in, half out of the roof overhangings. I'm getting used to the cold, I guess. It's really not so bad. It's like learning to stay on the windy side of the island in Maui when the sun rises and sets to avoid mosquitoes.

But here's the thing that every 20-something-year-old knows and dreads. I find myself working part-time at a coffee shop in Boston and I'm wondering what the fuck I'm doing with my life. I came here for the opportunity of it, and as it happens for so many people my age, that opportunity turned out to be an illusion and now my life is again filled with bouts of depressed self-beatings with mixed in splashes of optimism and hope.

I thought the hardest part of this whole thing would be transitioning out of my job and into whatever comes after. In a way it was, and Carl definitely helped cushion the blow. Surely I would have broken into many more pieces if he had not been here. But this part is hard, too. Yesterday morning after Carl left I went to sleep and slept until 6pm. I woke up for a few hours to look up free lectures and events in the Boston area and plan my extracurricular/enrichment schedule. Boston is a great place to self-educate.

I wasn't quite as bummed about being alone on Valentine's day as I was last year. Swilled the Jameson for a bit and listened to music, chain smoking cigarettes and ho-humming because I realized I was still too tired to do anything about it. So I went back to sleep and slept straight through about 22 hours of Valentine's Day to 7:30am this morning- just in time to get dressed and head out to BU for training at the Espresso Royale there.

The work is hectic, but the people and music are great. I am having a hard time accepting that I get paid so little for so much work, but who am I to complain. People don't work at coffee shops to make money. They work there because it's fun. It's a decent thing to do in the interim while I decide what the fuck to do with myself.

I feel pretty lost though, I must admit. Really lost, actually. It's like I had an opportunity, and I put my whole heart and soul into it; I was in it for the long haul. And then one day it was just gone, taken from me. In a split second. It's pretty hard. I thought I'd been given a chance.

But everyone keeps telling me that there's something to be learned from all this. That at the very least, what I got out of it was Boston, a city I love. But what did I learn, anyway. And why don't I want to hear this: "Well, there's a lesson to be learned from all this"?

What lesson is there to be learned? What am I supposed to learn, not to trust? Not to go after something that seems unbelievable? Not to dream?

What was I supposed to learn from last year's heartbreak, not to love? I learned that, and I hate that lesson. I hate it.

I don't want to distrust. I want to trust with all my heart! I don't want to stop chasing unbelievable opportunities, I will never let them pass me by! I'll never give up! I'll never!

I'm pretty sad right now. I feel it in my stomach. I thought that I had let go of expectation, and freed myself from the possibility of disappointment, but I was wrong. I forgot that the very ground can disintegrate from beneath your feet.

But I have wings. I can fly. And if I forget, my friends won't let me fall. Everything will be okay. Everything will happen just right. I know it.

2/12/07 - A**holes and Angels

2007-07-12T12:36:00.000-04:00

that was kind of a tough week, but I made it. of course.

I finally told my mom today about what happened with the old boss. she called him an asshole; I thought it was hilarious.

I attempted a negotiation with aforementioned boss today concerning my compensation which was difficult and confusing and manipulative (never work for a russian jew, especially a 40-year-old single one who is out of his damn mind).

First he asked if we could drive to the office to talk. I said no. It didn't sound fun to me to get into a car with my lunatic-caliber obsessed boss to go to a place where there is no one else around.

I made him meet me at Barnes and Noble in the Prudential Center instead, which he bitched about at length, complaining that it would be difficult for him to think with people around.

He'd told me that the fact that I asked about compensation without considering his feelings indicated that I don't care about him, and that he's not the one dangling power over my head, but that is was the other way around. He said he'd had a fantasy that I'd called to meet with him so I could gush about my feelings and he was planning on just listening, and not prepared. He has a lot of fantasies that I need him to save me. Frankly, I'd had enough of his fantasies.

When he named a price, he'd said: "I will support you until you find another job. Wouldn't you agree that's the usual arrangement?"

I thought to myself, is there a usual arrangement for this sort of thing? I hate that way of saying it, 'support'. Like I need a fucking sugar daddy. I just want remittance for my grief, and the fact that he toted me all the way from Maui to a city where I know no one so he could single-handedly destroy my life.

He asked me what my concept was of how people usually handle these things. I told him I imagined that most women don't continue a dialogue with their boss after they're harrassed in such a way... that they probably discuss it with a 'higher up' or whatnot, and that I did not have that option. He said 'Oh, so you're threatening me now?'

He tried to make my interacting with him a contingency in my getting compensated. As in, he expected me to check in with him so he could verify I was looking for a job and not just kicking back with the money. In my head I was thinking that none of that was his business. I was so frustrated with all this ridiculousness that when he asked me to be responsible for considering his feelings, I crumbled.

I said, 'No, I will not be responsible. because I am NOT responsible, for any of this. I didn't ask for any of this. You did this to the both of us. And I'm not threatening you or trying to rip you off or hold power over your head. All I want is to be treated fairly and with respect.'

I couldn't handle it anymore, so I walked away.

Luckily, Carl is visiting and he gave me a hug and let me snot all over his scarf and kissed me on the forehead when, in the middle of the Prudential Center, I (finally) had a nervous breakdown over all of this insanity.

He even had me hold his hat while he went to chase down Oleg and maybe punch him (I don't condone violence but I still think it's cool when friends beat the crap out of people for their friends... especially when they deserve it, very cinematic). Fortunately, mostly for legal reasons, Oleg had already left.

Man it's good to have your best friend around during hard times. I've not been the best hostess as I've been painting compulsively in my room to keep sane but I know he understands. We've been friends long enough that it feels great just to have a person in the same vicinity as you, no talking necessary. He's crashed out on the futon in our living room right now and even that's comforting.

On the brighter side, I got hired as a barista at the neighborhood coffee shop this afternoon exactly one week after Oleg went insane on me. Do I have a righteous bounce-back, or what.

Very excited to be working in a more familiar atmosphere. I think it's perfect for now and it makes more sense, perhaps not ecomonically but socially, than my being a financial advisor for multi-millionaires.

I have a general agreement with the boss that I be compensated for at least three months salary and my loan debt forgiven, roughly $11,000. I think that's fair considering he asked me to make babies with him and all. Today was so stressful I was contemplating getting a lawyer... but somehow that sounds far more stressful than just dealing with it on my own. He's drafting a contract which I plan on tearing into little pieces and revising like it was never even there in the first place... because I 'have a fantasy that' it will be full of all sorts of bullshit contingencies.

I'm pretty exhausted with all of this. I just want it to be over with so I can focus on my new life, which is looking like it's going to be a lot of fun. The bright side of things is that for a little while, I may be able to afford to work part-time for the next three months before Toyko so I can spend more time focusing on my writing and art portfolios, looking into grad school and pursuing/creating a job I might actually enjoy.

why am I writing all of this down? I don't know. It's the whisper and wheeze before the end of one of the most exhausting days of my life. I haven't broken down like that in well over a year.

One could only hope for a friend that will literally hold your hand and let you cry on their shoulder and paint with you in your room for six or seven hours a night, two nights in a row just because he knows it makes you feel better. I am so very, very blessed.

I used to make fun of Carl when he was a rosy-cheeked 17-year-old for looking so wholesome, like a little cherub or a seraphim. Now I know it's because he's an angel (the kind that will suckerpunch someone for you).

2/1//07 - A Moment of Clarity - Letter to Amanda

2007-07-12T12:35:00.000-04:00

You and I are going places my friend. And by that I mean adventure like you wouldn't believe. I've been thinking a lot lately about making beauty. About making things and thoughts and love and life beautiful. I think we're pretty good at it and getting better.

I love your reading and your loving it. I love your questioning and appreciating it. I see an invincible kind of happiness in you, and you know what it is? It's that thing. Really.

I love that you'll go for the brilliant adventure story over the safe alternatives. It made me remember that's why I took this job. It's also why being run out of your apartment by gangsters is not such a bad thing :)

I have an idea about the future. I'm thinking about talking to my (former) boss today to negotiate some compensation and finally free myself from the power struggle. It's been hard this week thinking of the disappointment and loss of the opportunity I'd been so excited about for so long. It fell through my hands like water and there was nothing I could have done different to keep it from happening.

This whole thing about pain in the changing tides- my mind goes to Pa'ia beach and how one day we came to swim and half of it was gone. I'd thought about the million pounds of sand and shell lost to the ocean.

What I didn't realize right away was that along this newborn coast, there had been revealed to us a mosaic of new debris and fallen trees and suddenly it wasn't a loss anymore- it was a whole new, beautiful landscape that I couldn't have predicted, even if I tried.

What brilliant landscape has just been revealed to me? What infinite possibility? I love to indulge in this game of being re-shaped again and again, learning new things with each changing tide. I don't know if I'll ever tire of it. It tantalizes me like licking flames of fire to the eyes of man. It's magic to my eyes and ears and mind and soul.

And then?

I figured it out.

I'm going to write. And not because I'm in love with the image of being a writer, or even because I would like to be one... but just because I already do. I'm going to write because it's like breathing air to me. I'm going to write because I'm already writing, and I always have been writing, and always will write, even when no one's looking. I'm going to write like it's too big and it's got to get out of me.

And it occurred to me just now that I might be romanticizing. But then I recall the lesson I just learned when trying to talk sense into my boss- that when people feel deeply moved, they often mistake this overwhelming sensation of love for romance.

Romantic love, in my head, doesn't even come close to the love that emerges out of real human connection. It's a case of mistaken intentions. You see those eyes and arms and hearts, and outward cries reaching up and out and its gorgeousness overwhelms you. The inquiry is so pure, and true, and beautiful. It pierces the soul.

How can you not love it? Two souls touching provides a sense of clarity that we hunger for, every day of our lives. I wake up, every day of my life, for that clarity. I cry out, and I reach my arms for that clarity.

I write for that clarity.

I feel a pressure in my chest right now, from how much I mean it.

2/8/07 - Sometimes, the World She Spins Sideways

2007-07-12T12:34:00.000-04:00

i don't know if i've ever been this off-balance in my life. i guess every year though, something's gotta give to get the wheels to start turning...

my boss has called me every morning since I left town, either to tell me he thinks about me all the time, or to apologize, or just to talk. Yesterday he called and asked if it was okay to send a masseuse to my house to help me get less stressed out. I accepted, and then declined about 30 seconds later.

on top of that, a few thousand conversations and vocalized thoughts later I decided the thing with the boss was not such a bad thing. If I handle it gracefully, it could be just right. Rob suggested I write a letter. Rachel suggested I sit down and really think about exactly what I need. I think it'll be fine. I'm just in no hurry to get back to work I suppose, and confront my boss.

Not much else to say. I'm not feeling particularly inspired. Just kind of 'chewin' on it all.

Today: paint. paint paint. sleep. clean the holy fuck out of my room. write letter to boss that I don't want to write. and brunch with rachel at Pho to kick it all off like a rockstar.

2/5/07 - What's the Worst That Could Happen?

2007-07-12T12:31:00.000-04:00

I remember when I decided to take this job. I tried to factor everything in. I thought to myself, it's a great opportunity to move somewhere I've never been all by myself, and to have new experiences. I thought to myself, 'What's the worst that could happen? Nothing I can't handle."

I haven't had a chance really to think about it, so I'll just recall.

I went to a conference in Colorado this weekend, I left on Thursday.

I met my boss at the airport and we had breakfast. I'm recalling to him Amanda and I's favorite story about the dragonfruit and the night-blooming cirrus.

On the plane I'm reading him some essay I'd written about one thing or another and he says, 'I love it,'

I say 'thanks.'

Then he says, no, I don't think you heard what I said. I give him a confused look.

Then he says "I love you."

I feel a little cold, like my dreams just flushed out of me and onto the floor of the airplane.

"Oh."

So he recounts things to me. That he'd thought about it a lot and felt it was important to be truthful. That he was truthful in his life about everything except one thing, which was admitting that he was far more interested in a personal relationship with me than with a professional one.

That he is pretty sure I'm not thinking of him that way, but he really feels like I am the woman for him, and he is the man for me. My heart sinks another 1000 feet.

He tells me he's pretty sure I wasn't looking at the situation that way. He's right. I moved from Maui (paradise) to Boston for a chance to pursue a career. I trusted that something as uncomfortable as this would not be an issue. I was wrong.

He tells me he understands it's important for me to feel safe and assures me that I am. I am stuck on a plane to Colorado for the next five hours sitting next to this person, my boss, who is in love with me. For the next three days I will be stranded in the mountains with him. I do not feel safe. He tells me I will be conpensated if I decide I don't want to work for him anymore. I thank him for being honest and appreciate his offer, since it was not my fault anyway and yes I don't think it's a good idea to work for him anymore.

He tells me he's not interested in an affair, but in a long term permanent thing. I look at the floor.

He tells me he's impressed that I'm taking this unexpected news so well. I tell him I have to digest it for a while.

I spend the weekend at a conference with a bunch of really good people, all financial planners with hearts of gold. These are Oleg's friends and colleagues. They're very impressive spiritually, and sweet. "Oleg really is the most brilliant, intelligent person I have ever met,' they tell me. 'He really is one of a kind.' I agree.

'I bet you guys make a good team in the office,' they say. 'You're both very unique creatures.' That we are, I say.

Later that night Oleg asks me how I'm liking the conference. I tell him I'm having a good time talking to people, because I am. The he says, "Why don't you ask me for a few days off and stay in Colorado after the conference for a few days to have fun and go skiing, or snowshoeing, or i could ski and you could just hang out at the lodge and read a book? I just want to spend time with you."

I say, "Oleg, I think we need to talk."

I try to get him to see where I'm coming from. He doesn't seem to be seeing much at all. I tell him I'm not interested, and try and consider that he has completely turned my world upside down. I have to quit my job. I'm stuck in the mountains surrounded by his friends and colleagues, and with him. I have lost any control I might have had over the situation by being here.

He seems to understand and says it's okay to just be friends. Good.

I start to talk about how it's not such a bad thing. I could work on my art more, I say, and write. I could get a job that doesn't require so much thought and focus on things outside of work. If there's anything I've learned its that you've just got to do what you need to do.

He tells me I'm an artist through and through, and that I should spend all my time making art. He offers some marketing strategies. I tell him I'm not interested in marketing my work. I would rather work at a coffee shoppe or something and do it on the side.

And then he hesitates, and says, 'Well there's an alternative.'

And I hope he doesn't say what I think he's going to say. But of course he does.

'If we had a family together, you wouldn't have to work and you could just make art.'

(appalled.) "....what did you just say to me?"

He says, 'When I'm around you I feel alive. I want you around all the time. I think about coming home to you every night all the time. I know there's a big age difference but I think we could work through the problems that would cause.'

I don't want to work through anything with him or even think about anything having to do with what he'd just said to me. I couldn't believe this was happening.

He looks at my face. Clearly I have a look on it that is saying 'You are a fucking lunatic' because he says to me, 'Can we just forget I just said that?'

I can't forget though.

I'm wondering where my rational, platonic friend of a boss went. I'm wondering how this all could have happened. Part of me is laughing because I couldn't imagine things falling apart in a more appalling way. I thought this shit only happened in movies.

I also feel incredibly alone, and vulnerable.

The next day is the last day of the conference. I'm still holding myself together. I still don't know what to do. There is a wine social, and then dinner. I am having a pleasant time talking to all the interesting people. I tell Oleg I ran out of cigarettes and I'm feeling jolly like it doesn't have to be a big deal, because Oleg is just being honest and things could be worse.

He makes a joke about taking advantage of my drunkenness and I shrug it off because I'm not that drunk and I could probably kick his ass if he tried anyway. He offers to drive me out of the park to get cigarettes and I accept because I am an addict.

He says, "i'll go first, then meet me at the car." He's been like this the whole time, all secretive even though we're just going to get fucking cigarettes. whatever.

we go and get cigarettes and he tells me everyone is impressed with me and that it seems like I am the alpha female of the group. meh.

he does the same "I go in first, then you go in later" thing. I have a cigarette and decide to have another glass of wine and socialize a bit before going to meet up with Oleg to discuss how i'm going to put together my shattered life.

I have a great conversation with Dick Wagner, Oleg's mentor. He's a good guy. About half an hour later I call Oleg to see if he's still awake and he says "I'm still awake, but I'm pissed."

Pissed? Why?

"Just drop by for a second."

Fine.

I drop by. He is irate. "What the fuck was that?" he says.

I'm perplexed that he even has the nerve to be angry with me at all.

"I thought you were just going to follow me up, and then you don't show up for half an hour. I can't go to sleep because I think you might be coming. How could you do this to me?"

How could you do this to me? How could YOU do this to ME? I remain silent.

"If you're not going to talk then you're just wasting my time."

I'm fuming.

"Do you not have anything to say?"

"No. I don't. This is a hostile environment and no, I don't feel like talking."

He gets up and opens the door. "Goodnight."

In my head I say, "fuck you." I walk out and go to sleep.

My ride to the airport is at seven in the morning. I'm leaving and going back to Boston and I don't really know what's going on, or what I'm going to do.

Oleg calls me at 6:45 and says, "I have a meeting in an hour and I want to talk to you so we can either talk before or after the meeting." I tell him I'm leaving at seven. He says, drop by for a few minutes. Fine.

I drop by. He's pissed still. "So you were just going to leave without talking to me? You didn't even tell me you were leaving at seven in the morning. How could you be so cruel?"

At this point I'm exhausted, and I'd just woken up. I was so exhausted from the unfairness of it all. I start to cry. I never cry anymore these days.

He says, "So you're just planning to go back to Boston without telling me? I asked you if you wanted to stay in Colorado with me and you didn't even give me a direct response. I thought we were going to be clear with each other? We had the whole time in the car getting cigarettes to discuss this and you didn't even bring it up."

He's pacing.

"Well, go back to Boston then. We both know you have no work to do when you get there."

I cry.

He walks out the door. "Lock the door behind you."

I don't know what to do. At this point I'd missed my ride to the airport. I'm in the mountains with my boss who is mad at me because I don't love him. I'm stuck in the mountains and I don't have a job and I'm not sure if I'll be compensated because my employer, who is in love with me, is not thinking clearly and may not see that I didn't ask for any of this.

I call Carl and he helps me through all of this. I realize I don't feel safe and have to "get out of dodge' as soon as possible and get somewhere where I am in control, at least, of my own safety. I leave my boss a note explaining that I have to feel safe and please take these next few days to understand where I'm coming from. I slip it under his door and leave.

I hitch a ride with someone I barely know to Denver and take a cab from there to the airport to catch the first flight back to Boston.

I just got home a few hours ago. I have not had much time to think about any of this. I know something big just happened, and that my life as I know it (once again) will not be the same.

But something is different. This is hard, but everything will be okay. This is 'el ano fuerte'. It's nothing I can't handle.

1/30/07 - yawn

2007-07-12T12:29:00.000-04:00

i feel like i've had narcolepsy for the past few days...

... my sleeping patterns are way out of whack, I painted all night on friday from 8pm to 7am and, although i'd been intending to sleep in, woke up at 10am. went and rented a car to go to ikea so that my room wouldn't look like a squat anymore- there's only an old futon mattress on the floor with a sheet on it and with the dropcloth spread out and the paints and the masking tape, it looks like i'm trying to pull off some sort of avante garde 'starving artist' motif.

sunday i thought it would be a good idea to drink coffee and hang out and read in the cafe near my apartment even though i haven't had espresso anytime recently that i can remember. i think it's the coffee that makes me sleepy- not that it doesn't give me a buzz but the withdrawal symptoms of that shit are wicked.

i had seven hours of sleep last night which is way more than usual... but my eyes are still tired and i'm still yawning and my body still hurts. maybe i exhausted myself this weekend. maybe it's PMS. maybe it's the moon.

i hope it passes soon. there's nothing more disorienting than randomly falling asleep everywhere you go because you can't seem to keep your eyes open. so weird.

in other news, not a whole lot. feeling pretty damn blissed out, actually. I love this city.

up with trailblazing the urban jungle!

down with narcoleptic feminine syndrome!

1/22/07 - .love.heart.ear.mouth.heart.love.

2007-07-12T12:27:00.002-04:00

I've moved into a new apartment, and except for a few suitcases my new room is completely empty- white walls and a dresser. When the last of Ali's stuff was moved out I realized I had been given a chance to start from scratch- to design this room completely, and not just with whatever hodgepodge combination I could find on the sidewalks this time.

This place is home. And I want it to feel that way- I have been living in my head and wandering about all my life, and now I want to live in a home- in a place created by the relationship between my head, and my heart, and my hands.

My head was swimming with ideas. In order to focus, I thought it would be a fun game to find the right object and to design the whole room around it.

At first I thought to design it around my antique Oscar Schmidt autoharp, which I love, but its colors are dark and I knew I wanted the room to feel light. I want to feel cleansed and clear-headed when I walk into it. I want to feel compelled to read and write and make music and things when I'm in it, and also to do absolutely nothing.

So I let my mind wander in search of this thing.... what was I looking for. I closed my eyes and thought about our meditations in Maui. I thought about how in our meditations we are asked to place ourselves in our most comfortable space, the space that brings you peace. To think of the temperature of it, and the way the environment looks and smells and feels. I thought, 'I would like to create that space that is in my head.'

My thoughts wandered to the beautiful silk paintings that Kutira had mounted all over Kahua in the Opua house and the Dharma house. They had been handpainted, each of them, in ornate detail by monks in Tibet and mounted on silk brocades.

There was something truly flooring about them. They were amazing to look at for hours- tiny, intricate brushmarks laid down on silk in the absent-minded but conscious wanderings of meditation. What were they called... I couldn't remember, and decided to Google it.

I found out they were called thangkas, and were made mostly in the 18th and 19th centuries. I wanted to find out how much one would cost, so I typed in 'thangka' on eBay.

There were a few for sale, most of them either terribly expensive, or badly painted. And then I found this one-

- and something in me exploded in excitement because I knew she was the one who would inspire my space. The white golden tara. Old, smudged, and perfect. She is the 7-eyed goddess of purity and transcendental wisdom. She grants fearlessness, patience and peace.

I bought it at 10pm last night for $26.99. Tara is my new roommate.

My first thought was to create a mural on all four of my walls inspired by the thangka. When I thought about murals, I thought about a short film I had seen:

I liked the way they worked together, constantly creating and destroying the images. The video is a time-lapse of a week's worth of painting, and so inspired by that I have decided to give myself exactly one week to paint the mural, starting yesterday. I plan on allowing whoever would like to participate to work on it as well- we'll see how it grows.

I have been thinking of little else, and it's bringing me an immense amount of joy to think about it and to work on it. The creative process is completely exhilarating when you reconcile it with your Truth- where a blank canvas was once intimidating- I always felt stressed out trying to think of what to do with it- it is now like a gift to be opened. My walls are filled with infinite possibilities for expression, and I'm realizing that if I let my mind wander, it will always know where to go.

Last night I was drafting the first part of the mural on my wall alone in the apartment and listening to music, dancing around and having a fine time. When my roommate came home, she was quite distressed over her new boyfriend; she likes him so much that she seems to be losing her self-confidence and also her faith that he likes her. I was listening to her get so angry and frustrated about expectations and 'should's, and every lover's struggle to overcome jealousy- and I could see where her pain was coming from, but I couldn't tell her 'you just have to trust, even though it might hurt'.

Right afterward my friend Alexia called me sobbing; she has taken on two good jobs and makes a lot of money and lives in New York. She has, on the outside, all the material indicators of success: she is good at her job as a modeling agent, writes screenplays for a Greek TV show, good looks, and so on. But she is cripplingly image-conscious as a result of her job and generally miserable from the fatigue of trying to satisfy the expectations of her 12-year-old self to become a famous writer. I could see where her pain was coming from, but I couldn't tell her 'you need to find the real you underneath all that, and release yourself from the expectations from days when you didn't know so much about yourself as you do now. And then you will know what will make you happy, and nothing else will matter.'

A few minutes after I hang up with Alexia, Amanda calls. She never tells me if something is wrong because she is brave and tries to be strong and think things through first. But because we share a supernatural bond I can tell when she is troubled. I wish I had listened more closely to the tone of her voice before spouting off excitedly about my solitary walks around the city, and how I love it, and how I feel like for now, Boston is really, truly my home. I noticed afterward and she told me she was back in Maui, and awestruck and adjusting.

I remember a conversation I had with her once when we were both feeling a little blue and lost. She told me she felt a bit down, like everybody does sometimes- only on top of that, she felt guilty. Because she felt down in paradise. I had these moments when I was in Maui too, and I feel for her because it's one thing to be down; it's another thing to feel that bad and then to feel like you have no right to on account of your environment.

And I could see where her pain was coming from. But I couldn't tell her, 'You can feel blessed in a wretched place, and cursed in paradise- your environment can influence, but is not the source of joy and sorrow.'

Why can't I tell them? It's not that I couldn't, it's just that I know they already know. I have been in their shoes, and felt what they feel- just like they have been in mine.

We know that things will pass and clarity will re-surface. But this doesn't change the fact that sometimes we just feel jealous, or insecure, or guilty. It is during times such as these that we catch glimpses of the relationship between the god and the human in us. The relationship between knowing and feeling. The relationship between the Truth and being.

At first I sat and listened to first Rachel, and then Alexia and found myself getting frustrated. I wanted to show them and tell them those things they already knew, and that they didn't need to stress so much and feel so bad. I wanted to point out how silly they were being, and didn't they know these things?

"I'm sorry," I said to Alexia, after yelling at her to pull herself together and realize how strong she could be. "I don't mean to get so angry with you. I just love you and I know you know better than to hurt yourself like this, and I get frustrated."

And she said, "I know you love me. I just need you to listen because I don't want to fall apart alone."

Because I love them as I love myself, I sat and tried to think about what they need.

They did not need me to tell them something they already knew.

Knowing these things are True is important... but it's something different than experiencing Truth.

It is the difference between learning, and realization.

It's like reading everything there is to know about piano playing, versus playing by ear- learning by tapping away awkwardly and painfully at the keys until you start to get a sense of the relationship between your fingers, and the sounds, and What Feels Right.

You can learn to play all the sheet music in the world with knowledge and practice, but to speak fluidly from the soul- more fluently than with words, even- you have to Be it.

You have to Be heart-hands-fingers-keys-soundwaves-ears-heart. As if the piano were part of you. As if it were like your legs, and you were an infant learning to walk.

I love them and I want to help them. I thought if I loved them then I should try to take away their pain and confusion. If I could only get them to learn the Truth of the matter- but who am I, in all my frustration and impatience, to teach them about unecessary bad feelings? It's not about learning, anyway.

It's about Being.

Taking away their suffering and pain would be like wishing they were deaf, dumb and blind. We know it hurts, but like fear, it is neither inherently good or bad- it is an experience of Truth. A sensation. It is reaching out and feeling, and touching, and understanding.

And so I realized something that I already knew- that there was nothing I could do, because there was nothing TO do- because it wasn't about action, either.

After all this frustration, I realized that all they needed was for me to love, and care, and listen. To Be there. Just that. That is all. Which is effortless, because I just do.

How does this (seemingly) obvious realization come into Being?

I realize this only after a lot of frustration, and blowing up at friends, and pain for myself and others. I realize it through experience. Love-heart-mouth-ear-heart-love. I realize it in my bones, like it is my legs and I have learned to walk.

Where is the mind in all this, and knowing? It's like a diver perfecting his dive. It's like an archer perfecting his aim. While at first these actions take an excruciating amount of conscious effort, at some point the mind steps aside in reverence to the effortlessly calibrated perfection of experience.

1/18/07 - Weren't You Afraid?

2007-07-12T12:27:00.001-04:00

Weren't you afraid?

Someone asked me that today, when I tried to describe the circumstances of how I ended up in Boston.

I wanted to write something about it, because it's been on my mind all day. But I'm not sure where to start.

My reply was something like, 'Well. Of course! I was quite afraid. I am often afraid, but, for better or worse, I often do things in spite of the (fearful) possibility that everything might go horribly, horribly wrong. With reckless abandon, I guess.'

In everything that we do... in our relationships, in our work, and every day that we set foot on the street or venture inward into our hearts, we take risks. Sometimes the out come is good. A lot of the time, it can get pretty bad.

When you're almost certain of the fact that at some point it's going to hurt a lot, it makes sense to feel afraid. It makes sense most of the time. I don't know what I'm trying to say really. It's like I'm looking at this thing, fear, and I'm paralysed and my thoughts are incoherent.

But I suppose just like any other emotion, fear is neither inherently good nor bad. We seek out haunted houses and roller coasters, we skydive and ski, we venture into space and all other such things that we do for no reason except the thrill of it. It's thrilling, yes? Maybe I am an adrenaline junkie.

I hear in the long run that shit is bad for you.

When Amanda and I were shopping for iPod speakers before the great adventure for our jungle dance party, we had a conversation with a kid our age working at the Circuit City in Fort Worth, near my old high school.

He asked us what the speakers were for and we told him. He asked if we were from around here and we told him we were once, but now we live far away. He told us wistfully that he'd love to get out of 'this hellhole'.

And we told him he could, if he really wanted to. He said he had a job, and his family was here. He said he didn't have enough money. He said it was too expensive, and where would he go, and what would he do, and how could he go out all alone into the world.

We looked at him, and said, 'No, really. You can go anywhere. You can do anything. It's not about money, you can get a job anywhere.' He said to us, 'Well all my friends are here.'

I looked at him confused. Everything he said seemed kind of irrelevent to me. I'd gone to Maui with almost no money, and certainly not enough for a return ticket. I'd been afraid, for about two days. At that point I realized that I didn't have to worry about how to get back, just like if you know how to swim you don't have to worry about staying near the edge of the pool in the deep end.

Finally, he admitted slowly, 'I guess I'm just scared of the unfamiliar.' And I could understand that.

It's hard to be brave in the face of risk. When things don't go as planned and the risks we take make life difficult, it reveals a little of something to ourselves, and it's hard to look your fear in the face. It's hard to really take a good look at yourself... flaws, and all.

Is it about bravery, though? People tell me I have a lot of courage. My boss tells me this all the time. I still cry when I get home from the sheer fatigue of trying to hold myself together. It's not that I'm sad, or fed up. It's just a lot of work to be brave, and I get tired.

Being brave is exhausting. Some people could call it masochistic.

I don't think it's quite so tragic as pure masochism though. A person could go through a struggle and say 'well, that was hard.' Your inner fuel gauge might indicate that your strength is low. They might accept their flaws as they are revealed, and with resignation.

'Yes you're right, world,' you could say. "I am a total fuck up.' You could take a real beating from this world this way.

No... that's not bravery. That's like looking into a mirror that shows you an incomplete reflection of yourself, and a wretched one at that... and accepting that image as the Truth of who you are.

Bravery, I think, is giving yourself a chance. It's looking at that wretched image in the mirror and shedding the illusion of it. It's shedding the layers of judgment and the behaviors and thoughts that you've mistaken for the real you... and seeing what a beautiful, and persistent, and brave creature you really are.

It's not seeing the beauty in the flaws of who you are. It's seeing that you... the real you... is not flawed, is not confused, or ignorant. You are not insecure or hurtful or mean.

Are you brave enough to know that you are perfect, and all-knowing? It doesn't seem like it's something you need bravery to do.

But I don't mean 'know'. I mean, really, really know. In a way that I can't explain. I mean knowing more surely than knowing you breath air, or exist. I mean knowing more surely than you know 1+1=2. I mean knowing more surely than anything you have known, or thought you knew in your whole life. A lot of really smart people would conclude that this kind of knowing doesn't even exist. When you use your brain, you realize you can never be sure of anything at all, in the end.

But this knowledge isn't about intelligence, or your brain. I know that some part of every person on the planet has always 'known'. I know this because that part of you, and that part of me are the one same thing.

Let me tell you what I think is at the other end of this endless journey. I think it's something that is worth more than all the suffering, and fatigue, and uncertainty and fear in the world. I think it's all that matters. I think it's the Truth.

All you have to do is something like carving marble with a toothpick. It's something like crossing the ocean in a paddleboat or jumping over rooftops.

All you have to do is continue to be brave enough to be afraid.

1/14/07 - A Hypothetical Interaction

2007-07-12T12:26:00.001-04:00

----------------- Original Message -----------------
From: nick
Date: 1/13/2007

hi. the voice of the dead right? i'm sorry, and i know 2 words isn't enough, but it's an apology long-overdue. clearly, this isn't an attempt at "hitting on you," just as i know your attempts at staying friends weren't... i really appreciate the fact that you tried to keep me as a friend... and i took your words at face value, especially since i have no doubt that hawaii provokes some intense states... but uh... i really wanted to keep in touch, but it was such an uphill struggle... i was caught in my own catch 22, clearly my own fault... i dunno. it seems you're doing well, and i'm really happy for that. i know it seems a little contrived that now that i'm single i can say these things, but that's kind of the trap i stuck myself in... i just... hope you know that you've been in my mind, and that our memories aren't somehow tarnished, i'll never forget em... anyway, i'm not about to friend request you cuz i realize it's not my call at this point... but if you can give me a chance, just as a friend, request me... i'm sorry.

__________________

my response, that I haven't decided whether or not to send:

I'm tired of this game. I've been single all year because of how tired I am of it. I don't want to play games, or think about 'who's call' it is, or whose ball is in what court.

This thing yesterday with you sending me pictures and music, and then you didn't even reply to what I had to say- it's disrespectful, and a waste of my time and energy really.

My friendships are important to me and based on trust and respect. I would like to be friends with you. All it takes are these two things.

But as it is now, I don't trust you and I don't feel you respect me. You have to admit that beyond the 'girls are melodramatic' veil, I have a justifiable reason for feeling this way.

So it would take a little effort and communication for us to have a friendship- and if it's not worth the effort on your part, then I think it's fair to say it's not a friendship worth having.

That's the bottom line, right? I've realized this past year that I am a blessed, loved, and whole human being. I'm doing my best to be aware and honest, and I try to ask for nothing more than to be treated with dignity. I won't settle for anything less.

Everything in me seems to be telling me never to speak to you again. Something deep in my chest is telling me, 'this person has hurt you more deeply than any other person, it's best to ignore him, your life is better off that way'.

But when you brush matters of the heart aside there's something more true there. This is the year of strength and growth. When I listen to that part of me, which is truly me, it says "I forgive you". So I think I understand now, and it would be nice to start somewhere other than friendship, and to move beyond ill feelings. I would like to get acquainted. Pleased to make your acquaintance, my dear human.

1/13/07 - You Want to Move It Move It?

2007-07-12T12:22:00.000-04:00

Something about this room and this house really vortexes me in and won't spit me out. I really like my room here. I think I like it a little too much.

Tomorrow at noon I'm moving into a new apartment. Ted and Nick are coming by in their truck-o-rama to pick me and my stuff up and deposit them into back bay, boston massachusetts. Into my new apartment and my new life.

The thing about Randolph is that it's terribly comfortable. Living in this house feels a lot like living at home in high school. I keep to myself and nobody bothers me except for the occasional reprimand for smoking in my room. Tomorrow I'm going to bump myself out of my comfort zone of solitude and into the city, where people my age roam free and might even try to talk to me.

In the past year I've gotten used to (and quite like) spending a lot of time by myself. Unfortunately when you move into a new city where you don't know anyone this makes it difficult the few times I actually do feel like spending time with people. Things, as always, are about to change- and for the better. As always.

It's funny. I definitely can't think of anything to write about but I thought I would try anyway. I think it has something to do with avoiding packing, which I haven't even begun to do in spite of the fact that I'm moving in 16 hours.

Carl is coming to visit me here in Boston on February 9th, and I can't wait to finally spend some one on one time with my dear best friend. It's been so nice that Rob and Amanda and Carl will have all come to visit me within a span of a few months of my being here, and that I've gotten to spend time with Alexia in New York and Leslie in Maine. I think they sense that I might forget how to interact with people otherwise. Oh dear.

It's lovely to have made such good friends in college though. A real blessing. Speaking of which, almost two years out of school? Un-fucking-believable. Where did the time go. I won't even pretend to recite all the madness that has transpired since then. It'll just keep rolling rolling from now on anyway until I find myself on the moon laughing in self-amusement.

And so on. I blessed a beautiful rock of malachite for Oleg and gave it to him for christmas or hannukah or whatever and told him it would make him remember his dreams really well. He told me it worked. I also gave him Steppenwolf by Herman Hesse about five minutes after I finished reading it. I felt like it was relevent.

Things are on the up and I daydream about Japan, which is dangerous. I shouldn't mistake past love for present love anymore.

Come fall of this year two of my three ex-boyfriends, John and Chris, will be moving to Boston for completely unrelated reasons, which I think is quite strange. Kate thought it was fate that Chris is doing his PhD at MIT and it just so happens I live here now. But what does it mean when it also just so happens that John is finishing up his schooling at Emerson at the same time?

I think it means two ex-boyfriends suddenly living in the same city as you. It's like a big, strange synchronous reunion. I laugh about it because it's like I tried to run away from my past, and my plans got ridiculously botched. Now all I need is for nick grim to move out here to make it hilarious beyond belief. Ha ha.

Anyway. Enough procrastination. Time to send myself packing toward the future.

1/06/07 - El Ano Fuerte

2007-07-12T12:20:00.000-04:00

that was our new year's eve intention. amanda, jill and I conch shells high in the air with orange candles stuck in half-cantaloupe candle holders, tequila shots and festivities in the background on the balcony of a surrealist castle in the rainforest valleys of mexico.

i haven't written about it because i'm actualy at a loss for words. Words just don't do it justice. At some point we realized that the experience could not possibly be translated into media and we resigned ourselves to the fact that the place was only for us, for people like us, and for anyone who'd actually made the struggle it takes just to get there and lay eyes upon it. I figured I would at least delay my attempt until I have the pictures. (On matt's camera, I forgot mine, perfectly). So later.

My body aches and I did not leave my bed all day because I am so exhausted from my last adventure (almost fell off a cliff and etc.)

But already I'm planning my next one (it's all about keeping eyes and ears open).

12/27/06 - better*

2007-07-12T12:19:00.000-04:00

this part of the year always makes me feel a little funny in my stomach.

i never really know where it's coming from... i don't know if it comes from memories of a break-up, or the memory of the break-up before that one.

i don't know if the feeling in my stomach is anxiety or anticipation for the new year. i can't tell if i'm making a huge mistake or not. i'm never sure why i even care.

but let me be frank, and not vague. torn apart is what i feel. torn apart as if that's the only way i could possibly be in this moment.

i want to go to the jungles of mexico with my best friend. but i want to learn about money, see my family, and not spend four days of my week off from my very hard job commuting on a bus, only to hurry back to texas, hop on a plane, take the three hour commute to randolph straight back to work, and then move to a new apartment that weekend.

i want to forget about nick. but one year ago today he broke my heart into a million little pieces and it doesn't matter how much i hate him, or don't hate him, or try to forget. it still happened one year ago today and I'm still healing.

i looked through my pictures from maui for the first time since i left and my heart soared and broke for all the adventures i had this year... i looked so happy, and not tired. i was really, so very happy. now i am happy, but it drains me. i hate that i count my days of freedom. i hate it more than i can explain. but i have committed myself to this job, this...job...

... i want to cry. i don't want to feel bound, by anything, or anyone. but I do. and by everything. maybe it's just the holidays.. it's just the holidays, right?

my dear high school sweetheart john sent me a long letter today. he is broken hearted about the first girl he's loved since me, five years ago. she's left him to run off and get married. he feels like i'm the only one he can talk to about this, and maybe he's right. i will always listen to him. my heart hurts for him. i don't know how to explain this feeling.

i want nothing more than for him to be happy... and i actually know that entails him falling on love with someone else that isn't me, and being happy with them, and loving them completely.

i love him so deep down in my heart that nothing could touch it or take it away.

it's an amazing feeling, actually. to really love someone that much. to love them enough to let go.

i love to listen to him in love. it makes me think some day i might feel that way again, too. This 'first love' love is really nice, too. I don't doubt for a second that he loves me. That's a nice feeling. And real this time.

Anyway it's late and I think I'm mistaking sleep deprivation for sadness. I don't sleep much anymore.

Just had a nanothought of my sweet friends Will and Joe. They're both in long term relationships with very nice ladies, both were single in high school. Tables turned, and their girlfriends talk of marriage.

Funny how things end up. (at present). never know how they'll turn out (in that thing called the 'future').

tomorrow. (better*)

*but of course.

12/18/06 - ?

2007-07-12T12:17:00.001-04:00

I used to think that constantly questioning everything around you... other belief systems, the belief systems you relate to... your own belief systems and everything you identify with- signified a total lack of faith, perpetual disorientation, and excruciating, overwhelming insecurity. You could find yourself lonely. Who do you identify with if you can't even identify yourself?

In a way this is true. But Truth is what I'm talking about here.

I'm asking questions. I'm never sure. I'm told I never give a direct answer. I'm told my opinion is elusive. I suppose in some form or sense, this is true, too.

But it's strange... even though I'm never really sure about anything at all... I've never felt more sure of myself.

What happens when the ground is taken out from underneath you? What happens when you realize you'll never know if up is really up, or down is really down? When you realize your grip on this world is asymptotic in nature, moving moving, closer closer... and never ever touching the surface of 'the way things really, actually are'?

I'm skimming the surface of that thing with no words. But I'm not even sure about that.

What kind of courage does it take to really, truly question yourself? It takes the biggest kind. You can feel it in your chest. Or what may or may not be your soul.

Do I have it? I don't know.

What does it feel like... I think it feels like that moment you're standing at the top of a cliff and the earth crumbles beneath you and time stops just long enough for you to be aware that there's nothing to grab hold of.

What then, though, in that moment. What do you feel. What's the one thing you've got.

Think about that moment and what it might feel like. To me, it would feel like true freedom. It would feel like I were a sun that is just going to shine. It would feel like I were an atom just being an atom. I would feel like a person just falling.

It would feel like being.

What do you have left when you haven't even got your beliefs?

You have you. You just have you. And it feels like everything.

12/13/06 - A Week in the Life of Jo 2.0

2007-07-12T12:15:00.000-04:00

a couple things....

first off, I added some pictures to the last blog like I said I would. Check 'em out, they're pretty funny I think.

Second, it's strange, but it's hard for me to write when the most fascinating things are going on. I keep thinking I should write about them, but then all the fascinating stuff gets piled on top of itself and details get lost in the mix. I've had such an interesting week and it's a little unnerving that I probably won't remember most of it... but it's like that joke I make all the time, about how I knew the meaning of life, I just forgot what it was.

So I'll outline what I can remember in hopes that this will at least trigger some memories for later, when I forget most of what I already know.

Monday and Tuesday- rough days working. Amanda played housewife and cooked soup and we caught up on lots of things. Indulged in the joys of female companionship (chocolate eating... discussing things like self-consciousness and boys unapologetically). I had a bad day on Monday and Amanda brought my roses from the grocery store. I love that girl. If I were a lesbian I'd ask her to marry me. In Hawaii, of course.

Wednesday- took a half day off to meet up with Rob and Amanda at the Boston Science Center to see the Bodyworlds 2 exhibit. Had a truly moving moment attempting to touch a human brain. Learned some things about how my past experiences affect my present inhibitions or lack thereof, and it felt good. I grow every day.

That night, went to a neuro lecture at MIT on imitation-inhibition, empathy, mirror neuron syndrome, and theory of mind in autism. I had forgotten that this was part of why I moved to Boston- because I get to do shit like go to lectures at MIT and Harvard and one of the other hundreds of great institutions of learning in this city. Had some delicious reception treats and super-stimulating conversation with Amanda afterwards. Shared a pitcher of beer with Amanda at the Middle East and talked all the way into the next...

Thursday- ...morning. Then we hopped onto a bus and parted ways at my stop, satiated with good conversation and mutual respect.

In a great lunch conversation with the boss, related some things I'd learned about goal and intent definition in learning behavior, empathy and theory of mind to aspects of my work. Cleaned my room and then slept. Good god it was nice.

Friday- Ali, this kickass girl I met at the Glitch Mob show on my birthday calls and tells me she got a job as a speech pathologist in NYC. She tells me she was thinking about how I live a bit out of the city and had said I wished I could live in the city and be around more people my age, and so she asked if I wanted to take her place at her apartment right on Mass Ave, at the dge of Back Bay.

It costs the same as my current rent in the 'burbs, no lease, just as big, across the street from Whole Foods, recycling, awesome harvard grad student roommate, steps away from the T in every direction, and completely surrounded by people my age... sandwiched between northeastern univ and berklee college of music, with harvard and mit up the street, not to mention the neighborhood is bumpin'... pretty much my most perfect, ideal living situation. Unbelievable.

I go to visit her and see the apartment. Better than I imagined. She moves second week of January, I move in (provided I can afford the move... gotta work out my budget). I am sad I can't hang out with Ali longer in Boston though, she is quite the kickass broad. She takes me to a party in Allston to meet new people and they're fantastic, some of them are fellow Burners. I wonder at how I meet people like Ali that come into your life like a whirlwind, give you an amazing apartment, introduce you to great people, and then run off to NYC.

Saturday- Met up with the boss in the morning to get some work done, and I offer some advice and insight that throws my bos for a loop and he is impressed and appreciative while I am surprised and happy that I finally get the opportunity to throw him for a loop.

Went straight to North End to catch dinner with Paul and co. at Joe Tecci's for his birthday- dressed up Hollywood-style in a beautiful dress, gushing at Ursula about how amazing life is ('if I just think of it, it happens, it's real magic, and it keeps getting better!').

I rode around in a Hummer limo (don't kill me for this... it was not my choice- just another one of many experiences I never thought I would have- I still maintain it is important to 'walk a mile in another person's shoes', so to speak, before passing any judgment- and just as suspected those shoes were obnoxiously large and unreasonably fuel-inefficient... )

Went to Lucky Strikes (near my potentially new neighborhood) and did one of my favorite things- went drunken bowling with friends. Had cosmopolitans with Rob (he ordered them, not me). We asked the girl to make me a drink that she thought reflected who I was... and it tasted daaamn fine, I must say (I believe it was a ginger ale, grenadine and I want to say gin, but honestly was too drunk at that point to take note)

Sunday-Oleg picks Rob and I up from Paul's and drops Rob off at the airport. Rob tells Oleg to 'take good care of me' and I feel honored to be cared for. I was quite hungover, and realized I'd lost BOTH my keys and wallet in last night's drunken frenzy. I felt like it was only proper since I'd just been going on about how perfectly everything happens and how if I just ask for it, the world provides. Seemed only natural for everything to go wrong the next day... I felt lower than I had in a long while.

Oleg is super supportive and comes up with a logical plan of action for handling my lost important things. He loans me $200 until I get my replacement ATM and credit cards.

Nick comes by later that afternoon and once again, proves to be a truly quality human being and friend. Takes me to Home Depot to get my house's spare key duplicated, and I get a beautiful bromeliad plant for my room. We grab some coffee and hit up Newbury Comics, which is always fun. Ate chinese and watched the Last Waltz at Nick's house (best concert DVD ever) and then on the way home listened to Bonnie Prince Billy, my now new very favorite thing for my ears.

There is nothing like beautiful people to make you realize that you're lucky even when you're unlucky... to remind you that things are never as bad as they seem.

Monday- I find my keys on my desk in the office. That morning someone calls me to tell me they've found my wallet and that everything is still in it. Even the cash.

The past few days Oleg's been working with me on my personal budget. As of now I am absolved of all my credit card and collection debt, now transferred to an interest free loan from Oleg. I have a nice balanced budget and invaluable knowledge on how to be smart with my own money.

So. Saying that I am fortunate doesn't even cover it.

Kick-ass job. Awesome boss.

New apartment right in the heart of the city.

Credit card debt absolved.

Learning something new every second of my life.

And friends that exceed my ability to express how grateful I am for them.

And I know no one wants to hear about when things are going well... but 'well' is subjective, and by my definition, not without obstacle. Life is not easy. No, it is every bit of the struggle that it has always been, but one of the thousands of important lessons I learned this year is that a life without struggle... a carefree life, an 'ideal', need-met life (e.g.- Maui life), albeit wonderful in its own way- is not the same thing as a fulfilling life. I am happy. I celebrate it, and unapologetically.

I miss Maui and I'm often cold, sometimes lonely and constantly challenged at work- it's exhausting really... but there's no place or time in the world where I'd rather be than here, now.

12/4/06 - Best Birthday Ever (Photoblog)

2007-07-12T12:12:00.000-04:00

best fucking birthday E-V-E-R. (pictures added)

It's the end of the weekend, so I'm pretty much exhausted, but before I flip back into work mode I wanted to quickly take note of the events that transpired this past week-

-Amanda flew into Boston on Wednesday night and we had lunch with Oleg the next day. Afternoon we met up with Rob and Paul and Petey and went to a rockin' secret cigar smoking tavern in North End for a few drinks.

Rob and Amanda slept over that night and in the morning we cooked a Birthday Breakfast- delicious Maui-style pancakes and havarti dill scrambled eggs (Carl-style) with OJ.

We topped the pancakes with starfruit and I 'blew out' the non-existent candles.

We took the epic commute to NYC and almost died on the Fung Wah chinatown express bus (but who hasn't) and met up with Alexia in D.U.M.B.O. and she'd bought a slice of cheesecake and a slice of carrot cake with 23 (existent) candles distributed on them, which we all lovingly shared.

This is the face I make when Rob is talking-

Then we hopped onto the subway to Lower East Side to see EdIT and the glitch mob throw down in an E. Coast vs/ W. Coast DJ battle at Element with Sub Swara (West coast won in my opinion.... REPREZENT)

It's hard to articulate how much fun we had there. A little bit of Burning Man crew mixed in with NYC locals and surrounding area glitch fans fuckin' throwin DOWN and kickin' back after a hard week's work. Delicious music. Beautiful people. Flooring belly-rhythm beats. Everybody dancing.

I finally got to meet edIT, my favorite DJ (*giddy*) and around 4am the club was still going, but we were hungry so we all headed down to 7A, quite possibly the best 24-hour restaurant in lower east side. Packed to the brim with people. Cheap, delicious healthy food. The city really doesn't sleep.

Eventually made it back to Alexia's and I passed out from exhaustion.

The next day we woke up and Alexia, Amanda and I got dressed to go out. It was beautiful- in all the years I'd known them, I'd never hung out with Amanda and Alexia together before. We all got beautiful ('bringin' sexy back', as the guy yelling down the street proclaimed) and realized we had the same giant old lady glasses in three diferent color schemes.

It also occurred to us that we were all three of us single and we had a slightly embarrassed moment thinking, 'alternative sex in the city'.

Regardless of sitcom connotations, it is good to be three intelligent, successful, good-looking twenty-something year old women in New York City.

It was a great day out with the girls (Rob had gone to hang out with fam in Jersey).

Alexia calls her modeling agency's car service and we pull up in a town car at Beacon's closet in Williamsburg for a little shopping. Then had a long, leisurely and incredibly pleasant brunch (at 5pm) at this kickass cafe called Fabiane. They kept playing damn fine music... the kind of music that you've heard alot, but it's oh-so good, e.g.- tracks from Beck's second to last album, some yeah yeah yeahs, gorillaz and so on.... 'our' oldies.

Shared a chocolate pear mousse birthday treat (I'm telling you... week-long birthday celebrations are the way to roll). Then the three of us hopped onto the Metro, bought a bottle of Jack and hit up this club called Fat Baby to see a friend-of-a-friend play in some sort of hip electronic band. The hipster vibes were suffocating so we headed over to B-Side, a bar that felt nicer and more familiar, kind of Texas style rabble-rousy. Hilarity ensues.

We meet a Real Russian wearing the most kickass hoodie with a Giant Embroidered White Tiger on it who does a great Borat impression. Another guy says to Amanda, 'don't take this the wrong way, but is your hair trying to look like Rod Stewart's?' which, surprisingly, leads to some engaging conversation.

We, of course, end the night with slices of NY pizza and attempt the impossible 'hailing a cab in front of the pizza place at 4 in the morning in lower east side' maneuver. This beady looking guy won't stop bugging us, poor guy, he's so lonely. 'hey,' he says, 'you guys wanna come hang out at my place?' he reminds me of my ex-friend oliver.

'what are we going to do there, make the sex?' we ask, i nthe Borat voice.

'no, no sex,' he says, 'beer and music. it'll probably be boring' he makes a face i can't describe in words. we can't stop laughing. 'come on,' he says. 'it'll be funny. it'll probably be boring though.' somehow this isn't convincing to us. a cab comes by and Alexia literally elbows someone in the face like an asshole new yorker and the guy isn't even offended. 'Hey, hey,' he says, 'keep it thorough.'

'Keep it thorough'?

It's our new phrase of the century. After a few fights with a couple pakistani guys some frat boys munching on slices forfeit their cab to us and we head back to Brooklyn to crash.

This morning we wake up and grab brunch at a sweet little cafe and negotiate the price of our granola/fruit/yogurt concoctions. I have a cafe mocha that is more mocha than cafe- a rare treat. I do a small calculation in my head and decide there's still enough time to hit up Toy Tokyo, my favorite toy store in St. Marks, before we hop the Fung Wah to Boston.

We purchase two of the cutest things ever constructed by human hands-

1) A half-panda/half hot pink cat doll, my birthday/christmas present from Amanda and

2) a black and white checkered boombox/lunch cooler combination with a headphone jack for your iPod.

Perfection. No partially-hydrogenated urban experiences here. Only 100% saturated New York City Madness.

With the people I love. All in all, one of the funnest birthdays ever. Yessssss. I love it.

(roses amanda got me when i was having a hard day)

11/23/06 - Untimely Meditation

2007-07-12T12:10:00.000-04:00

Finally back from New York City now in my warm bed, the smartest puppy is sleeping next to me. That place is the embodiment of the slap in the face that brings you back to your senses, if not leaving you somewhat stunned and on your toes...

.. Alexia said it has a habit of amplifying your flaws and reflecting them back to you in full force, but I don't completely agree with her- the amplification, yes- of just flaws? I'm not sure.

NYC = amplification.

That I can roll with.

I've comeback. And I'm ready to go, really. I can't fucking wait. Stepping out of Alexia's cold apartment in Brooklyn, wet feet on the cobblestone and railroad tracks of years past that I don't have a concept of, I'm walking briskly toward the F Stop on York Street, but it's not because the sleet kissing my face makes me uncomfortable.

I walk without an umbrella, and the wind-off-the-water is cold on my face, and it really starts to rain and I welcome it, it wakes me up, these quiet rain-kisses on my face.

Alexia gave me a pair of gloves and I bought myself a scarf just like my old favorite that John bought me in NYC six years ago, that I'd lost in NYC exactly a year ago, drunkenly while hanging out with Nick. I bought it from the same MoMA design store John had bought it in, for the same price. Only this time it was all mine. All mine, and only laced with enough fond memory to make it mean something more to me.

This was protection enough from the elements. I felt strong, even in spite of being exhausted. Strong in spite of weakness, in spite of flaw. Thank you thank you, New York. Thank you thank you, every person and place that reminds me when I forget.

Right before I left Maryanne called, a friend from Maui. I'd been packing up my things and the phone rang, and she told me she was at the airport in san francisco, waiting to board a plane to mexico, and that she had opened her travel journal and found a message I had written to her on her last day in Maui.

I wish I could quote it word for word, but I can't really remember. I wrote it in her journal, for her, and not for my own record. Regardless, it came back to me at the perfect moment. In fact, that's what the message was about. Keeping the Perfect Moment with you everywhere your feet take steps.

Standing there in my room I listened to her reflect my own words of wisdom- rolled off the tongue of a person wiser than I (at that moment), I listened to her quote teary-eyed and then walked out the door smiling at the magnificence of the Perfect Everymoment, and the everyday Christmas of opening presence as our lives unfold.

On the train I was watching the raindrops race across the window in a half-sleep and a few words from saul williams echoed in my ears gifted to me by the random iPod gods. I really loved it, hadn't ever really 'heard' it before and he spoke with urgency, and with passion and with a hint of panic. The words from Saul Williams's 'Untimely Meditation':

The fiery sun of my passions evaporates the love lakes of my soul

clouds my thoughts and rains you into existence as i take flight on

bolts of lighting claiming chaos as my concubine and you as my me i of

the storm you of the sea we of the moon land of the free what have i

done to deserve this? am i happy? happiness is a mediocre sin set for

a middle-class existence i see through smiles and smell truth in the

distance beyond one dimensional smiles and laughter lies are hereafter

where tears echo laughter you..d have to do math to divide a smile by a

tear times fear equals mere truth. i simply delve in the air and if that..s

the case, all i have to breath and all else will follow, that..s why drums

are hollow, and i like drums drums are good but i cant think straight i

lack the attention span to meditate my attention spans galaxies here

and now are immense seconds are secular, moments are mine, self is

illusion, music..s divine. noosed by the strings of jimmy..s guitar i swing

purple hazed pendulum hypnotizing the part of i that never dies, look

into my eyes are the windows of the soul. it..s fried chicken collies and

cornbread, its corn milk flour sour cream eggs and oil. its the stolen

blood of the earth, used to make cars run and kill the fish. who me? i

play scales. the scales of dead fish of oil slicked seas my sister blows

wind through the hollows of fallen tress and we are the echoes of

eternity, echoes of eternity, echoes of eternity maybe you heard of us,

we do rebirths, revokes and resurrections we threw basement parties in

pyramids, i left my tag on the wall, the beats would echo of the stone

and solidify into the form of light bulbs, destined to light of the heads

of future generations they..re releasing it up in the form of ohm. Maybe

you heard of us. If not then you must be trying to hear us, in such

cases we can..t be heard we remain in the darkness unseen, in the

center of unpeeled bananas we exist uncolored by perception, clothed

to the naked eye, five senses cannot sense the fact of our existence

and that's the only fact, in fact there are no facts, fax me a fact and i..ll

telegram i..ll hologram i..ll telephone the son of man and tell him he is

done. leave a message on his answering machine telling him there are

none. god and i are one. times moon times star times sun, the factor is

me, you remember me, i slung amethyst rocks on saturn blocks ..til i

got caught up by earthling cops. they wanted me for their army or

whatever. picture me, i swirl like the wind tempting tomorrow to be

today, tiptoing the fine line between everything and everything else. i

am simply saturn swirling sevenths through sooth the sole living air of

air and I, and, and all else follows. reverberating the space inside of

drum hollows. package and bottles and chips and tomorrow then sold

to the highest nigga. i swing to the tallest tree, lynched by the lowest

branches of me, praying that my physical will set me free cause i..m

afraid that all else is vanity mere language is profanity, i..d rather hum

or have my soul tattooed to my tongue and let the scriptures be sung

in gibberish as words be simple fish in my soulquarium. and intellect

can..t swim so i stopped combing my mind so my thoughts could lock.

i..m tired of trying to understand. perceptions are mangled matted and

knotted anyway. life is more than what meet the eye and I, so elevate I

to the third and even that shit seems absurb and your thoughts leave

you third (eye)solated. no man is an island but i often feel alone, so i

find peace through OM.

11/19/06 - The Magic of the Necessary Words

2007-07-12T12:01:00.000-04:00

Sometimes I get into these funks.

My face is shoved into a corner, and that broad insatiable appetite for the kind of experiences that extend into infinity is still there... it is just to my back, all of it; and I am facing this corner, and it looks like the end of the line. But all I have to do is turn around, and there is everything, all of it, always- laid out before me as far as my heart and eyes and imagination can reach.

I always forget that it's just as simple as 'turning around'.

I woke up today, ready to ease myself slowly out of this 'sitting around' syndrome of mine. I made a list of things to do, and looked at it. I washed some dishes. I thought about getting out of the funk. It was like telling a marble to roll uphill, and the marble saying 'alright'. And then just sitting there. Because it's a fucking marble at the bottom of a hill.

I had been planning on going into the city in an effort to get out and about, maybe go shopping and meet up with some friends. 1pm rolls past and I am still sitting in my pajamas in my bed playing guitar and smoking cigarettes.

I think about it some and try to figure out whether or not I'm actually depressed. It's strange, because I know I have all the tell-tale 'signs' of it... but I'm pretty sure I'm not. I don't feel bummed out at all. Sometimes I feel a little bemused. Sometimes I giggle and sigh about the fact that I feel this weird lack of motivation, but I know it will pass. I suppose I'm missing one crucial symptom of depression- the notion that there is no end in sight to this 'low' thing.

Boston Nick calls and asks if I want to grab lunch, and I say 'sure'. This gives me some motivation to get up and dressed, so I throw on a maroon sweater and brown curduroy pants, my good-luck paisley bandana tying back the hair, and think to myself, 'portable bed of comfort'.

It's good to hang out with Nick, he's good peoples. We hit up the Pleasant Cafe in south Boston off W. Roxbury and the place is great, the ceilings are tinted orange like the extinguished butt of a cigarette from 60 years of smoke-filled cafe-lingering. Our waitress had on these huge thick glasses with the glasses-holder necklace thing and big, thick green plastic rims. I was envious, really because no one could pull that off but her. There's one customer in the place, an old leathery looking guy in the booth in front of us, who looks at me occasionally shooting me dagger looks, I'm not sure why but here he is poking his head this way and that around Nick's shoulders (Nick's a pretty big guy).

I had a great cup of coffee, the nostalgic kind that isn't good in the connoisseurial sense, but very good in the 'nothing like diner coffee' sense. It was the kind of cup of coffee that has the distinctive metal/water taste of being brewed in an old, old brewer and served in a mug that has served coffee for much longer than I, or my mother have been alive.

Other places to get good cups of coffee: (Los Angeles) The Pantry. Canter's. Roscoe's. (Texas) Ole' South.

Nick took me to one of the many fantastic little tiny bookstores in Boston, I think we spent a good three hours there, and it was smaller than my house- with the classic basement-piled-to-the-floor-boards with old books.

All small used bookstores are fun, with their unique atmospheres and quirky bookstore sales clerks with their own hidden agendas. But something beautiful about Boston, in all it's longevity, rich intellectual history and many many colleges- is that you can find things like 150 year old copies of Shakespeare's plays. For $2.

I found a gem of a book- called "Elbert Hubbard's Scrapbook." The book is handbound, beautiful handmade paper and tied with a linen ribbon that is characteristic of Hubbards press. The book was published in 1923, 8 years after Elbert Hubbard and his wife died on the sinking Lucitania off the port of New York City after being torpedoed by a German submarine called 'unterseeboat tventy', or something like that.

Of course I didn't know who the hell Elbert Hubbard was. It doesn't matter much either- but the guy was obsessively well-read, and the scrapbook is a collection of his favorite passages, never intended to be published, and put together for his own personal musing. It's like the 1920s literary equivalent of Elliott Smith's 'A Basement on a Hill'

When I got home, I read a few pages of it- excerpts from everything from Kipling to H.G. Wells to Mary Shelley to Nietzche to Galileo to who-knows-what. It's fantastic food for thought. I did a little research on the guy and found out he had a MYSPACE profile... who makes profiles for all these dead people anyway... point being, he is best known for an essay published in his magazine called 'Message to Garcia' (which is posted as a blog on his page)

Anyway 'Message to Garcia' is pretty good, but more profound to me were the coincidental synchronicities between the condition described in the essay, and my current 'ho-hum' state of mind. The essay is about the person who just 'does it'. Whatever the opposite of the unmotivated person is. The person who just delivers the message to Garcia, does what needs to be done, and doesn't think twice. I thought it was marvelously accidental that my day would begin by an inability to get out of bed and then end, from the most random source, with a direct commentary on that exact condition circa 1915.

On that note, I'll share one of the first things I read in the scrapbook. A quote 'quoted', so to speak. The opening passage, written by Kipling, quoted in print by Hubbard, and digitally by myself:

"There is an ancient legend which
tells us that when a man first
achieved a most notable deed
he wished to explain to his tribe
what he had done. As soon as
he began to speak, however, he was smitten
with dumbness, he lacked words, and
sat down. Then there arose- according to
the story- a masterless man, one who had
taken no part in the action of his fellow,
who had no special virtues, but afflicted-
that is the phrase- with the magic of the
necessary words. He saw, he told, he de-
scribed the merits of the notable deed in
such a fashion, we are assured, that the
words 'became alive and walked up and
down in the hearts of all his hearers.'
Thereupon, the tribe seeing that the words
were certainly alive, and fearing lest the
man with the words would hand down untrue
tales about them to their children, they took
and killed him. But later they saw that the
magic was in the words, not in the man."

-Kipling

11/18/06 - SAD stands for seasonal affective disorder

2007-07-12T11:59:00.000-04:00

okay, here it comes.

the deluge of SAD-inspired mullings and musings... here I am, not knowing what to do with myself and then there's this fucking blog. It saved my life last year, and if it doesn't work this year, well fuck. Maybe I'll have to do something like grow a backbone or fall in love or get a life or something.

I've spent the day in my pajamas sitting around and thinking something along the lines of... tomorrow. Tomorrow I will pick myself up, clean my room, get my shit together, take a nice long hot bath and muster up the motivation to get out of my house and develop a social life.

It's funny how sometimes you look in the mirror and you feel good about the face staring back at you. It's funny, because what you see in the mirror doesn't just reflect back at you... I looked in the mirror the other day and I did not look like myself. Boston Nick tells me that I look completely different from one moment to the next. I like to think I'm a shape-shifter... but what's the difference between that and an amorphous blob who has no control over who she is from one moment to the next.

I look in the mirror and I look tired. It's strange, I didn't look so tired a week or two ago, and it's like I can't get enough sleep or rest, like I am biologically designed to hibernate through the winter but logic dictates that I must do otherwise.

I want to write inspirational things, but I don't feel particularly inspired. I want to worry that my loneliness stems from not being attractive enough, or nice enough or interesting enough, but the truth is, I just don't care. I wake up, and I could get out of bed and get all gussied up and go out there and 'get 'em', but I'd rather just sit in my pajamas and think about how the world is going about its business with or without me. I sit in my bed that I love, and look out the window that I love, and watch the sun move up..... and then down. That's what I did today. I looked out my wondow and watched the sun go up and down.

Tomorrow.

Tomorrow I'll go out there and live my life. I've got it all set up, lunch date tomorrow, shopping in the afternoon (a good set of speakers for my iPod... yes....) and then night time date with Amy.

I'm afraid I'll wake up tomorrow in my flannel pajamas in my flannel bed with the down comforter, light up a cigarette, smoke it out the window and then decide I'd rather watch the sun go up and down again.

Carl says maybe now's the time for something drastic. Usually when I feel like I need to shake myself out of something I do something drastic like cut all my hair off, dye it and get a pet sugarglider. Maybe I'll do that. Or maybe I'll get a fucking bunny.

But last night I was looking in the mirror with scissors inches from my dreads and I felt like something needed to change, and maybe it wasn't my hair. Maybe it was this habit I have... of whatever it is. Cutting my hair wasn't going to change anything.

My boss left for Paris today, and I have the week off. I'm going to try and take advantage of this free time (still getting paid of course... god i love being on salary) to get my shit together. Clean up my room, do my laundry, fix my budget, do some shopping and develop a social life. Boston Nick's been great at trying to get my out of the house, if it weren't for him I probably would never leave. But Initiative is the word of the week.

I've got to take initiative. And it starts with being a little less vague about what 'initiative' means.

I'll stop there. Gotta save a few lines for future SAD-inspired ramblings.

love love

11/16/06 - Look Away.

2007-07-12T11:57:00.000-04:00

I wanted to write a song about all this, but it just wasn't worth it.

I wanted to write a poem, but i couldn't find the words. It all just seemed too thoughtfully constructed to be geniune. Kind of like you.

You, with your meticulously crafted image of apathy. You with your carefully choreographed song and dance... and not that it isn't beautiful, because it is- but I've seen those words before, I've heard those tunes. There's nothing new in it. It's all head, no heart.

Do you know what transparent means? I'm sure you do. I know you well enough to know that dictionary.com is one of your most frequented websites. I know you well enough to know you spend more time thinking about what people think of you than you'd ever care to admit. But who else (me, admittedly) spends that much time obsessing over alignment and glamourizing anonymity. I still see (right through) you.

I like the words that come out of your mouth. Your quotes are quotable. In one way or another, your quotes are quotes "quoted". And I'm glad you have a sense of humor with yourself, because I think you're laughable. You make me laugh. I think you're absurd.

I love the flaws, though. I love people's flaws, I love my flaws, I really love your flaws. I love your flaws like some part of every person loves to be slapped in the face.

I love it because I can feel it. It is shocking and appalling. It jolts me into the present. It reminds me I'm alive.

I love this darkness that I feel when I have to think of you because it reminds me I'm not perfect, and I never will be. And I love that it shows, that it's so penetrating it pierces right through my meticulously crafted mirage of apathy toward you. I love that I hate you and I can't help it, and that I finally don't give a shit whether or not you read this. Because it's so fucking real.

Look away and look forward some time. Keep looking away. I looked so far away that I came full circle... and suddenly I was staring at myself, behind myself, beside myself, and all my insecurities. And look at that, I found myself looking at you. I saw that you were me. And I couldn't look away, like I'd seen a trainwreck, with limbs. With ligaments and bones, and blood and fingers.

And I love this perfect tragedy, too. Just like I love everything that can't help but be beautifully terrible... it's so terribly beautiful... it really moves me

You are a byproduct of lessons learned. I will sweat you out. I will purge you. I will emerge from you.

11/08/06 - Rambling Stream

2007-07-12T11:15:00.000-04:00

I thought I would write because my mind has been feeling oddly bogged down lately and I've been feeling a little manic with regard to my mood. I'm fully aware that it's just PMS, but I thought it would put my mind at ease a little bit to just get some thoughts out and provide my brain with whatever relief that might give me.

Everything I write starts with some sentence that won't get out of my head, which in turn instigates a domino effect of toppling thoughts, most of which are useless; but while writing can sometimes fulfill the role of opulent, eloquent word-poetry, sometimes it's just a big dump. A big mess. Like my room.

At work it's like I'm juggling a thousand balls in spite of the fact that I don't know how to juggle. I feel like it's that split second that an unseasoned fan of dancing strikes a perfect pose that makes you think they've been practicing with calculated precision straight out of the womb. Of course this all happens right before she crashes to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs, kind of like an airplane that flies really well, but has no landing gear.

And there I did it. I used a metaphor to illustrate a metaphor. Where was I going with all this...

I am surprised that I have not fucked up more royally at my job (yet). At the same time I keep thinking about the growing plant in my nightmare, how it could cause so much damage, but slowly, and growing. I think that's what kind of a fuck-up I am. A gradual fuck-up.

I come home and my room is a mess, it's untended, and disorganized. There are clothes everywhere and I still haven't put decorations up on my wall. I don't know if I ever will... and I feel like my disorganized nature is staring me in the face everywhere I go- and it's terrifying to me that my job is to be organized... because it's just not one of those things that come naturally to me. I'm far too distracted.

And dealing with money- I lack a certain common sense that most people have with regard to this. What I'm trying to say is, this whole situation is revealing to me my flaws, and I'm glad, because things were appearing to be too perfect for a while and I was starting to feel kind of invincible, and that's not a natural way of going about things. That's not human.

I'm supposed to be working right now. I was supposed to work today, actually... but I woke up late for a conference call, and it was rainy and cold, and I was in my pajamas and with this strange looming sense of dread that I'm trying to articulate right now, and I just didn't go to work. I didn't want to leave my bed.

Mike says that it's because I can't accept the fantastic nature of this situation, and so subconsciously I'm trying to sabotage it. There's some truth to that, I guess. I thought my boss was pissed I didn't come to work today but he called to see if I was doing okay and then told me he called payroll to arrange for me to get paid earlier (this Friday), which was nice of him.

the truth?

I have more responsibility on my shoulders than I have ever had in my whole life. And it's fucking terrifying.

It's great to talk to John because every once in a while in between telling me about hilarious shit, sending me music and recommending me music and books he provides me with these little jewels of insight which are always surprisingly golden nestled in his usual outpourings of media glutton regurgitation. I was telling him I fucked up for the first time today at work, and that I feel crappy about it and he said,

'No doubt it's hard, but when that happens just take it for what it is and then clear it out of your mind. If it is something that needs changing, it'll just happen naturally and easily.'

And maybe that's no different from what anyone else would say. But I suppose after years of kind of looking up to him I still am somewhat of a fan.

You know that Spiderman quote, 'with great power comes great responisibility'? I wonder which ancient chinese philosopher came up with that first. Eh who cares. If you can find brilliance in a comic book, you can find it anywhere, and on accident. It's like an easter egg hunt.

I have these big dreams, but I find myself exhausted of describing them. I think I'm going to visit Leslie in Maine next weekend. The only thing is, she's up there with Aaron, Nick's brother and I kind of wanted to avoid that... but Leslie said 'maybe hanging out with Aaron will help you patch things up in your head' and I'm thinking, it's not my head that needs patching up... but sometime earlier this week I was leading a guided meditation and was doing the forgiveness meditation, which is this:

once you have brought yourself to meditative state you create this environment with your imagination of your most favorite comfortable place, and you sit and enjoy it, and then you bring sort of your worst enemy/ person that has hurt you the most/ person you just cannot forgive into the space. If you find it difficult, you bring your guardian angel, who is kind of whoever brings you comfort and support. The whole thing is visualizing sending love and forgiveness to the person, and wishing them a happy life, no matter how much the initial tendency is to do otherwise. If you find you can't do it alone, you call on your guardian, or some higher power to send the love through you. It's a nice feeling.

Anyway most of the time I do this meditation Nick is sitting across from me, and it never really works. I always kind of clam up, or my mind goes into it's usual spiral cycles when I think of that whole painful mess and I kind of just shut down, or think of something else. But this time something really special happened, where there I was, kickin' it with my guardian, when I became aware of the fact that the guardian was in my head and my thoughts, and so was the Nick in my visualization.

And there was this overwhelming sense of clarity, like it had been a blurry dream before and now it was crystal clear as if I had just opened my eyes in the room I was meditating in. The conversation was concise and real, and my guardian (me), she just knew everything. She really did. I felt like I could ask her anything, and there she was like an always-available friend, to answer any question I had.

And I had this feeling like beating the shit out of Nick, my enemy. This happens a lot when you're frustrated or have been hurt. But when I reached my fist out, she took it, and opened my hand and made it to caress his face lovingly, and I was disgusted and mad that she was making me do this, but at the same time the love I felt (her love) was genuine and I sort of broke down and cried in resignation at all of it (in my vision).

I think maybe it was the first time that meditation actually led me to some realization.

So maybe when I hang it with Leslie it won't be so bad. Surely I don't much want to see aaron, or anything that has to do with any of that... my life has moved on completely from that and it is natural to avoid painful reminders. But at the same time I take the vision and Leslie's invitation as a sign, that maybe something about the trip will release me from whatever it is that is holding me back.

11/05/06 - Cup Overflow

2007-07-12T11:14:00.001-04:00

I am feeling a little.... I don't know what it is. I've been feeling a little overwhelmed, little cries, what is it....

But it feels nice, it's a feeling I haven't let myself feel in a long time...

... I was supposed to spend today working all day with Oleg, figuring out new communication strategies and testing out different programs- but we spent the whole day instead just talking, about everything really, from how my dad called me yesterday crying and asking if I still loved him, to that thing we can't describe in words that every person feels connected to, to grief about lack of grief. Oleg said he intended to work, but he decided it was mroe fun to just hang out, so we did.

I have a very unconventional employment situation. My primary responsibility as an employee of this company is to provide comfort and advice to those I work with.

And while in a way this is my dream job, it leaves me with a little bit of anxiety about having that kind of a responsibility in my hands, in spite of the knowledge that I know I can do it, because it's just what I do without being able to help it

My whole world is turned quite upside down, and not in a bad way. Everything is just so different and unfamiliar.

My lost and found friendship with John is more than I could ask for- and not in any wishful thinking sort of way, I am just so happy to know him. Never in a million years would I have thought I would have that opportunity

And with these two impossibilities made possible, and me, dumbfounded, completely and utterly... I wonder how this all happened. How did all my dreams come true? I am waiting for everything to fall apart any second.

I'm am forced to stare in the face what I have to offer as a human being... through observing that I have been offered just for being a human-being.
And my friends. And my family. How could I even put into words how very blessed I am. I am so blessed.

I just got off the phone with carl, and I kept saying 'I don't know, I just don't know what is going on.' But this is somewhat of a lie. I am accepting something this year in my life that I could never accept or appreciate, and sometimes you run yourself ragged through the obstacle course of life and find yourself transformed and you can't even look at yourself in the mirror because who is this person shining so bright

Amanda wrote something about me in her blog that I can't even find the words to respond to, it means so much to me. What could I even say, except that she has taught me every bit as much in this life if not more- and one important thing- that I, me, Josephine, am so blessed to be me, and that life is an adventure at every turn

I didn't even realize how important that thing was

Have you ever cried real, real tears of joy? I have (lucky). Many times in Maui, and right now, sitting here in my bed, trying to think about all these things at once.

It's so lovely, all of it. I am completely in love with this life, and everything in it. UNabashedly, unapologetically, and full (full) of thanks.

Is it okay for me to admit I'm a little bit confused? That might be the right word.

10/29/06 - Nightmare.

2007-07-12T11:13:00.001-04:00

I just had the most terrible nightmare.

I dont remember much how it began but the whole thing had a bad feeling to it. At first I was in some sort of bus and there was strangeness going on all around me, I remember we were watching some sort of cartoon and it was a little anime girl with shortish orangish hair running around, and it was the last episode of the series and she was carrying a doll of herself around, brushing its hair and putting hats on it and things. there were kids in the bus watching the show with me and this group of twenty-something year olds, in cluding crystalia, this girl i met in maui and later hitched a ride to SF with from burning man.

I told the kids, I used to watch this show when I was 13. Honestly come to tink of it, I don't think the show actually exists. But it was some variation of Lain. the kids weren't good kids though, they were evil. and the people, they were doing terrible things in front of them, things that would be okay I guess if there weren't kids there, nudity but not innocent nudity, and lots of raunchy noise making and fucking. One couple, wearing shoes and socks while still nude, was trying to block the sight of the other couple that was fucking furiously on the couch in a way that's probably only okay if no one's watching. The whole thing was weird. The kids kind of had this curious look on their face like they knew that they shouldn't be seeing what they were seeing and I felt a little bad for them, even thought they were evil

One of the girls kind of grabbed crystalia who had been on my computer and said to me, 'they took something', meaning some kind of drug and dragged her into another room. The others followed suit and suddenly I was left alone. I went to my computer and this really garbled, bizarre music started playing on it, i kept looking for the mute button so i wouldn't wake up the crazy naked drug addicts and the evil children, but I couldn't recognize any of the keys on my keyboard, and the music was blaring and I felt quite panicked.

Finally I realized Crystalia had been on my computer nad placed some larger, 'other' layboard on top of my keyboard, and I finally moved it over and turned the music off. God, that music was so terrible.

Suddenly I am in some sort of store trying on hats.. I think an antique store or something like that. I try on some hats and they all look quite silly and old-fashioned, but then I see this beautiful sort of feather headress hat, it's simple with brown and purple and green feathers, a macaw feather, and a pointed front like the kind you're supposed to just pin to your hair for accent. I like it... it's like a small, elegant version of the hat I tried on at that hat party in downtown L.A. last time I was there.

I don't have a hatpin. I think about the word hatpin and think about how I am happy to use it, since it is not an often-used word. Even though I don't have one though, I want to see what it looks like on me so I look for a mirror, and I find one, a full-length one with a wooden frame, the old antique kind that swivels a little.

I place the hat on my head and hold it in place with my hand and turn the mirror toward me, and I look into the mirror... and it's not my face.

It's this other face. It looks old, and bitter, and wrinkly. It could be a white woman's face, her skin is sunken in and her eyes are small and lifeless. her mouth is pulled permanently into a frown from scowling. Her hair is a reddish brown, wiry and long and it hangs like a limp frizz on either side of the hat.

I am terrified because I know I'm looking at my reflection, and yet it's not me, with my chubby cheeks and my asian eyes, and my generally pleasant face. It's this woman, and she looks so old and like she's lived a very unhappy life. I touch my face... to my fingers it feels smooth but in the mirror her fingers are old and sort of sink into the doughy wrinkles of the woman's flesh. I look at the jagged curves of her nose, into her eyes, and at her mouth to try to figure out if she really is me. I look at her skin, it's the worst, all grey and leathery and ashen and full of unhappiness.

I know she is not me. I see how she could be, but I know she is not me and so I think to myself, she must be haunting the mirror. It is so terrifying to look into the mirror and not see yourself. I look into another mirror, a smaller wodden oval one. I want so badly to see my own, familiar, unintimidating face.

It's still her, though. I start to worry. Like my inside image of myself doesn't match my outside. It wasn't the mirror, because it was every mirror. And then I think: it's the hat.

I take it off my head and look at it, and I'm filled with this fear, because now I can feel it in the hat, I feel this woman's bitterness and hatefulness in it and it feels so terrible in my hands.

I put it down and walk away, filled with fear that that negative energy might transfer to me.

As I put it down though, my sweet mom picks it up and says, 'Oh, look at this!' and shows it to me. I tell her mom, please, put that down... it used to belong to a bitter, hateful woman and there's nothing but hurtfulness in it.

She's holding it and looking at it and then suddenly the feather hat pulls itself out of my mom's hands and bludgeons intself into me. It doesn't hurt, because it's made of feathers of course.... but it tries with all its might. It's flying, swooping through the air and just trying as hard as it can to beat the crap out of me.

I am not hurt by the hat, but disturbed by its intentions. My mom, brother and stepdad are all sitting together looking mildly amused by its antics. They think it's a little weird, I think it's outright terrifying- I mean c'mon, there's a possessed hat, and it has it out for me.

My mom says 'Look at that, what is it doing?' and I say 'Mom, it's trying to kill me any way it can'.

I finally grab a hold of it, and I figure, I should do something about this. So I hold it up in the air, and it's tugging at my hands, trying to get away so it can swoop at me and try and kill me with its feathers. It's pulling really hard but I have a firm grip on it, but there is a lot of tension in those feathers.

I don't know how to free a thing from its negativity. I don't know how to exorcise a thing... but then again, there are a lot of things I don't know, so I do what I always do, I get down on my knees, hold it as high up in the air, and I make something up.

"Oh god," I say really loud, because I don't know what else to say, "Please, free this spirit from all negativity, release it from its chains, and fill it with joy for this world and others." The tuggings subside slightly but then increase in intensity and I repeat myself,

"OH GOD!" I say, and loud; "Please, release this spirit from the shackles of this world, and fill it with the peace that it is longing for!" And here, I closed my eyes and sent it every ounce of positive feeling I had in me. I imagined it being peaceful, and the tugging really started to become less strong, and pretty soon it was just a feather hat. It became light, and then it became lighter, and soon it was glowing.

It was really quite beautiful. I smiled. "Oh god," I said, "Please, let this light flower and radiate through this spirit. Let it be happy."

And this luminescent thing, it starts to sprout this rich green thing, with a yellow and white flower coming out of it, it's a real beautiful thing.

But then it really starts to grow, and it starts to get heavy, and while at first it was kind of cool that the plant was growing so fast, now it's just creepy and it's really growing, I mean, and fast.

I'm holding it in my hands, but soon I have to place it down, and it tangles around my arms like a vine, soft, slightly grippy rope-like vine, and soon flowers are budding all over it. It's still quite beautiful, but it's lost its shine.

And then the thorns.

Real fast out of no where... the vines are wrapped tight around my arms and the thorns grow in so fast they grow right into my arms and I can see that it's happening and I can feel it, so I'm tearing away my arms and it's the tearing away that hurts the most, the skin tears and my arms bleed but I've got to do it, I can't have an evil plant growing through my body...

And then I realize this fucking spirit is really out to get me. I mean, fuck her. What did I ever do to her. My family is getting really fascinated with this plant. My mom is very sweet and loving, she reaches out to it saying 'awww, it's so pretty...'

And I'm trying to warn her as she lets it wrap around her arms, full of white and yellow buds and caressing my mom's soft arms and she looks at me and says 'What's the problem?'

And I'm looking at her arms and the damn plant is literally growing through her flesh, I see it going right through her arms and it's growing so quick but so gently that it doesn't even cause bleeding, it's just suddenly grown all throughout my sweet mom's arms. It's terrible. I don't know what to do.

My brother, he reaches for it but I warn him as best as I can, and he listens to me and hesitates and I say "Please Emil, don't touch that, it's so terribly hurtful" And he pulls away. I'm so relieved.

My stepdad sort of half listens and touches it with one hand. You know what happens to the hand.

So here I am and this fucking plant is just fucking shit up. I'm so frustrated... I tried to help it as best as it could, and all it wanted to do was hurt me... it was so bitter, maybe because I tried the hat on, maybe it was her favorite hat and I shouldn't have, but all of it was very unfair, and now my family was getting eaten by this thorny plant. I am terribly frustrated and perplexed as to how anything could be so unjustifiably hateful. And then I wake up....

....and it's only 8pm. Because I went to town yesterday and came home today around 3pm, cleaned my room, and laid down for a moment under the sheets because I felt cold and fell asleep without realizing it.

And it's 8pm and have this weird ass feeling, like I think I have weird nightmares every time I fall asleep in the afternoon and I always rememebr then rather vividly. And it's always clear to me what they mean. The brain is a funny thing.

10/26/06 - What If Everybody in the Stock Market Meditated?

2007-07-12T11:12:00.001-04:00

I just led my first guided meditation to a group this morning.

In a corporate boardroom. Full of suited white men.

And it was AWESOME. They liked it so much, they asked me to do it every morning.

This is why I took this job... I come into work, and I bring conscientiousness to a world that is in desperate need of it... and I enjoy it, and they enjoy it, and everybody wins.

The great thing about it, is spreading this kind of positivity at this level, with men who move $35 million dollars a day, has quite a substantial trickle-down effect.

So really. Everybody wins.

I don't have to sit here and worry about whether I'm making a tangible impact on the world because I come into work and see it on their faces every day... there's a shift in consciousness in the financial world occurring... more people are looking beyond money making and, for example, allowing people like me into the workplace to ground them. Raphael always said, 'macrocosm is contagious'. So why not catch-a-fire in the corporate world.

Anyway I wish you could all feel the way it felt in that boardroom when I said 'Ok. Now whenever you're ready, just open your eyes.'

That was real magic.

Yeah sure, the work is stressful. The training is hardcore, and I work in a cubicle. But as I grow older I have learned that life on it's surface level has an intricate layer of complex motivations beneath it, and in general, those motivations are good. And when motivations are good, there's nothing I can't handle.

I can look at it one way and think, "My 16-year-old self swore on god's green earth she would never work in a cubicle, and I've failed her."

Or, I could think "My 16-year-old self never could have known what kind of person she'd grow into, how complex this life can actually be, and the kind of good she could do in an environment where she is the exception to the rule."

My mom asked me how I was dealing with my cubicle anxiety. I told her, "You know, I'm so busy I'm rarely in it, and then I am, I am so engaged in my work that I barely know I'm there."

Conscious-minds-connecting know no boundaries. Even cubicle ones.

10/11/06 - Beautiful New England

2007-07-11T18:05:00.000-04:00

It's my first day in Boston.... wow.

One all-night packing binge.
One shuttle ride, three airports, two airplanes, one Logan express bus and a car ride later-

-and I'm home.

It's so fucking bizarre. I spent most of the day yesterday window gazing... what was I thinking about... how tired I was... trying still to digest the magic weekend with John... and the impossibility of imagining what's to come.

I landed in Boston right as the sun was setting... it was really beautiful. The stopover in D.C. was really pleasant- surprisingly, the airport grub was chock full of healthy options, I indulged in a veggie pita and a banana, and also in oggling all the very smart, very sexy boys walking around. I entertained thoughts in my head that maybe the further up north you go, the better the food, and the smarter and hotter the guys. Ooooh, anticipation.

Ree, my landlady, is a really wonderful lady about my mom's age, who knows all sorts of things about good food and how to be comfortable. Her house is pure magic, and I love it. I couldn't have imagined a better place to live- it's quiet, and cozy, and my room is beautiful. It's the perfect size for me, complete with a full-size bed, tan flannel sheets, down comforter, and antique dark oak furniture.

She used to own a gem store, and so there are beautiful rocks and gems stashed in every corner, along the stairs, on every shelf, even hidden in corners of my room and closet. It's so neat, treasures everywhere!

When I was packing I found a bunch of small gems that I'd collected one day when Ollie and I were in the old warehouse district in Dallas, hanging out at her friend Den's art studio. It was located next to a crystal and gem shop, and so we crawled around in the dirty ass dirt behind the warehouse, digging around and collecting shards of gems that had broken off during shipping and processing.

I learned a little bit about sacred objects when I was in Maui... the power of having symbolic artifacts arranged in your space, often called altar pieces for altars... being raised Catholic, altars have a whole other meaning to me, but here I have this beautiful collection of little treasures I have gathered along the way- rocks from places I love... Joshua tree, the farm in Hopewell I worked at, Pai'a beach in Maui, the Mojave desert... shells and seeds, beads given to me as gestures of friendship, the red coral ring Amanda gave me... a jade carved landscape my grandmother gave me, the blue cyanite crystal Nick from Maui gave me, etc.

It's all arranged around this crazy looking bowl/ashtray/candleholder that a bum/street vendor at Venice Beach gave me a few years back, after telling me I was a shamaness- it's crazy and broken and schizophrenically glazed, with broken bits of glass melted into it, and a big blob attached to it that has what resembles a fat buddha sort of emerging out of it. I think it's one of the most beautiful things ever.

Anyway. This little altar gives me a lot of peace in the midst of an almost overwhelming unfamiliarity. It really gives me good dreams when I sleep. The first time I set it up, I had one of the best nights of dreaming ever, after almost a year of virtually dreamless sleep, or nightmares. I'm really happy about it.

There's also a shelf above my bed that's perfect for my guitar to sit on. I've covered everything in fabrics that I've collected over the years to decorate my room with (the day I actually have my own room... it's been a long time). I really love my new room. I'm really going to make it mine.

As for everything else, sometimes I feel confused and lost, thinking, 'What the fuck am I doing here... I don't know anyone here, and I don't know what I'm going to do here really... I was sitting in my room enjoying it and thinking, wait- I didn't pay for this, how did I get this. It's strange feeling to ride the crest of a wave that someone else is creating. But it's new, and it's very neat.

What's nice is, anytime I start to feel confused, I remind myself why I'm here. I'm here to learn a whole new way of life- to learn how to organize my thoughts and execute my actions. That's what this whole money thing is. It's not about the money, it's about learning how to get things done. Sure, it sounds boring- that's probably why I never got around to learning how to do it better.

I feel unstoppable in the creative, intellectual and spiritual sense- but all of that is useless if I can't work on my sense of motivation. So this is my training so that I can be a super invincible superhero shapeshifter.

Learning new things isn't easy, and it's not pleasant at first. I try to remember back when I started studying neuroscience. I'm going to feel insecure and inadequate for a while... but the more you learn, the easier it becomes... until it becomes second nature. That's all I want. To learn to improve my initiative a little... I think it's going to be really fun.

Adventures come in all forms, even cubicle in Boston-forms. I seem to remember once, a seriously profound, life-changing adventure coming in the form of working on bunnies in a lab. That wasn't very fun... but I gotta say, I learned more in the wake of that experience than I have in any other.

I think I'm rambling now... so I'm going to go work on that 'getting things done' thing. Going to Cambridge tonight with a friend to go shopping and check out the city (I made a friend already! Gee golly.)

love to you all

Jo

10/8/06 - The Best Thing

2007-07-11T18:04:00.000-04:00

That's a hefty title. Because this year has been the best, most blessed year of my entire life.

I was pretty nervous about seeing John again. More nervous than I would have cared to admit, and as Patrice and I were driving to the Oui lounge to meet up with him, if it weren't for Patrice taking me by the arm I probably would have bolted in the other direction. I couldn't face the possible awkwardness of the whole thing.

But it wasn't too awkward at all. In fact it was quite the opposite, it was a whole lot of fun- it was something really special.

I'd been left wanting five years long for that conversation to occur, and had pretty much resigned myself to the fact that it never would. But it did, and it went beautifully, and I couldn't have imagined it possibly going any better than it did.

We hung out at the Oui for a while before ditching the place for a six pack of Sierra Nevada, a 24 pack of PBRs, a few packs of cigarettes and the curbside in Mira Vista. Full moon... reminiscing with old friends... perfection.

Patrice went to bed, and John and I went for a walk for a while. I visited his old house, where a whole lot of 'first''s happened... first kiss, first love... you know, all that. Drove around in his car, talking talking, laughing, pissing on trees, acting like heathens and dancing around, singing corny songs. Slept over in a really tender way where you just kind of look at each other and laugh and enjoy each others' company. Next morning had a reunion with Virginia and Nathan, his parents who were happy to see me... I was like a daughter to them. Another few hours-long conversation drive, CDs exchanged, and that was that. He'll be in Japan for another year, after which he'll probably move there permanently.

When John and I met I was 13. I'm turning 23 this year... that's a decade- five years of knowing each other, five years not. Fucking wild... so he left for Tokyo today and on Tuesday I leave for Boston, and that's the way it goes- it was so nice to see him, and talk to him, and look at his face, and hug him. But now we go our seperate ways... and it is painless, like it should be when you're dealing with two twenty-something-year-olds, and not two seventeen-year-olds, or two fourteen-year-olds.

It really was quite nice to wish the guy luck on his journeys, turn around, and dive into my life carefree all the while knowing I have this unwaivering love for him, no matter what happens, or regardless of how much we change or don't change. I mean, he was my first love. And now we get to be friends! Pretty cool.

So why is it the best thing that's happened to me all year... because it gives me the most hope and shows me the greatest beauty of getting older- that whatever it is we're feeling right now, for one reason or another, with time- it changes. And it changes for the better.

10/06/06 - Buying Islands and Dinner with the Ex

2007-07-11T18:02:00.002-04:00

speaking of reveling in past and future.

I wanted to wait until I scanned the pictures of the place, but I am far too excited for technology to keep up, so here's the scoop-

- Amanda and I had entertained visions of one day buying land on a tropical island, developing it and running it as a guest retreat- our own little slice of paradise on this planet, to love and be a part of, and delight ourselves in.

And so last night I was having dinner with my stepdad, discussing my experience in Maui and he recounted stories of the family farm in the Philippines, which I will recount to you now to the best of my ability-

A thirty minute bus ride from Manila to the shore of the main island, you hop into something called a hover pod. Yes. A hover pod. This contraption is a clear, dome shaped water vehicle on jet skis. You ride in this for about 45 minutes and dock at the shore of the island of Mindoro, originally named Mina de Oro ("gold mine" in Spanish).

At the foot of the mountain are 1000 hectors of land belonging to my stepfather's family. There is a fresh spring that trickles down to the bottom of the mountain to a pool formed by boulders that tumbled down the mountain's face maybe a hundred years ago. The water continues to trickle into a large swimming pool... belonging to a 5 bedroom 'city-style' house, complete with outdoor kitchen, and maid's quarters. The entire estate is surrounded by tropical orchards and mango trees.

My stepdad and his brother used to drive around in an old army weapons carrier vehicle with no brakes on the land. He said it was hilarious trying to drive a vehicle that size with no brakes... stick shift 3,2,1... rolling stop. Up the mountain live the indigenous tribes of the island, a very friendly lot called the Mangyan.

The house has been abandoned since the death of my stepdad's parents in the mid-nineties.

I get and idea, and I get very excited. "So, in about five years," I say, "Do you think Amanda and I could spend a few years out there renovating the place, making it inhabitable again?" I know how the jungle eats things.

"I don't see why not, but it's very rural and dangerous. You'd need an ATV, or water buffalo cart, cars don't make it out there. It'd be quite an adventure." He says. Goosebumps. So here's the plan:

I work in Boston for five years to save up money for this adventure. Then Amanda and I fly out to the Philippines to scope the property out. Nick from Maui, and Willem will meet us there. If it looks like something we can do, we chase the squatters out, live there and renovate the place. My stepdad's family is considering selling us the land for dirt cheap. The American dollar goes far there. Eventually, we might take it to a place where we occupy the maid's quarters and rent the rest of the house out as a retreat. I've seen pictures of the land. It's enough to make tears come to your eyes.

We can do this. We WILL do this. The island never has visitors that aren't Filipino. I think it will be the greatest adventure yet. Worlwide Gypsy Network. I'm serious.

___________________________

While I'm looking at these pictures, feeling a little overwhelmed in the first place, Patrice (old high school buddy) calls me up and asks if I want to have drinks Friday night... with her, and with John Mayfield.

John was my first love. We were together the four years I was in high school, until about two-thirds into my freshman year of college, when I met someone else. Every boyfriend I've had since will tell you I never really got over him. He lives in Tokyo now, just back to visit family. I haven't spoken to him since March 2002.

Anyway. This is really only a big deal to me. In my imagination, he's going to back out last minute, so i'm not getting my hopes up as far as talking to him.

Oddly enough, when I told my mom about it, she told me that the phone call she'd answered that very morning when I was taking her to work was from my aunt, who said that Cesar, my mom's first love (in college) had called out of the blue for the first time in 15 years or so, asking if it was okay for him to call my mom.

Bizarre.

And well then. I hope it goes well. Regardless, I am fresh from Maui, tan, 25 pounds lighter, healthy, confident, and on my way to something amazing. I've never felt better. I missed my high school reunion last week because the only person from high school I had any interest in seeing was John, and I knew he wouldn't be there. So I guess this is my little 'high school reunion'. It's been too long for it to be a soul-stabbing disaster, right? ;) I kid. It'll be fun.

10/05/2006 - Hamster in a Manster Cage

2007-07-11T18:02:00.001-04:00

that title was a typo. But I thought it was hilarious so I kept it.

Time in Texas is creeping up on me... I know I'm only here for a few days, but there's a fascinating air of temporally multi-layered nostalgia that strikes me sideways every time I come home.

It's always been a reliable point of reference... never-changing, remnants of past lives strewn everywhere in strata like an archaelogical dig, stored in boxes on pieces of paper, in photographs and in things of sentimental value.

What does that mean, 'sentimental', anyway. My heart is heavy for the first time in half a year.

It's not really that simple, though. I am experiencing a little bit of anxiety- it's that human part of each of us that likes to revel in past and future like it's a playground. It's the part that says 'fuck it'... because maybe it likes to forget to be (present) and really, just likes to get lost in the confusing part of this life.

I'm okay with that.

I took this opportunity (with a littler more than coaxing on my mom's part) to clean out the closets during my time home... I'm sorting through everything I've left here on my past rebounds in between adventures (and there have been many). Digging through things I left here when I moved from my grandparents' house after graduating high school... things that had been thrown into the trunk of my stationwagon when I left L.A. in a hurry after graduating college, and things left when i quit my job and ran off to Maui.

The physical aspect of editing down your past isn't necessarily time-consuming... there's not a whole lot- probably the sum of a few boxes. But you know, I am a student of life. I'm moving slowly, taking it all in. Right now I'm learning the difference between nostalgia, sentimentality, and baggage. It's taking forever, and it's binding me to this house for the time-being like a hamster to a cage. It's kind of emotionally taxing.

This is why I often like to run off to somewhere new, where I don't know anyone, don't have any memories, and most importantly, don't have any reminders. Like Maui, or Boston. It's refreshing to start over. But first-

- I am cleaning everything out. And throwing a lot of it away. I am going to deal with all this first, instead of leaving it all behind and pretending it doesn't exist, like I've always done.

I'm going to learn from editing my past. And I'm only going to keep what I want to remember. Because that's what our personal mythology is, in the end. It's not all heartbreak and disappointment. It's the Good Story you make of it. (Haven't you ever seen Big Fish? Laaaaame, by the way)

I mean shit. I'm too young to have baggage.

Anyway, whatever this is... a little uncomfortable, but I like it. This whole year has been a lesson in not pussying out.

09/22/06 - One Year Later

2007-07-11T17:53:00.000-04:00

It's been about one year to the day of the first blog entry I've ever written.

This time last year I had just graduated from USC. I'd spent the summer 'broken-hearted' because what I perceived to be my other half wasn't sure if he wanted to be connected with me. One year later I come full circle... once again, sitting on the couch in the Scarff House in Los Angeles, embarking tomorrow to Texas, anticipating the future.

Only this time, things are a little different.

I am whole. I am stronger. I am more myself than I have ever been in my life. And I am ready.

Last year I went back to Texas because I didn't know where else to go. This year, I come back to Texas after the greatest adventure of my life... four months of living in the jungle in Maui, jumping into waterfalls, swimming against the torrid torquoise tides of the Pacific Ocean, clmbing trees, picking fruits and following streams. Rituals with shamans, intense spiritual journeys and true healing. Coming into myself. Coming 'of age'. BeComing ME.

This year I come back to Texas to visit family and friends before embarking on what may potentially be an even greater adventure- now is the time to throw myself into the deep end to do the Good Work... now is the time to see if I can swim.

This year certainly has been thus far the most intense year of my life... and it's not even over yet.

One month ago I left Maui to head to San Francisco to go to Burning Man. From Black Rock City, I hitched a ride back to SF to spend time with Kate in the Marin Headlands before flying back to Maui. After ten days, flew to Los Angeles to spend time with friends. And now tomorrow, back to Texas to visit family for a week before my final destination: Boston, Massachusetts. Home of Harvard and MIT and stuffy New England-types.

Maui to SF to Burning Man to SF back to Maui to Los Angeles to Texas to Boston. All in less than a month and a half.

Found and secured housing in Boston. An old Victorian house in Randolph, with a woman named Ree who (incidentally) has been teaching white tantric yoga for the past 16 years.. and her acupuncturist, who flies in two days a week from Florida.

I really hope I live up to my own expectations. The very notion that I doubt myself at all is worrying me. Must be the smog.

It's been so good to see old friends here in L.A. I have such a genuine love for them...

The day after I left the lush jungles of Maui, I found myself in L.A. driving down the 10 freeway in a white convertible, sunglasses on, scarf flowing in the smoggy wind with a hot blonde in the passenger seat (Amanda)... driving into Sony Picture Studios and giving my name to the security guard, parking, and watching my best friend compete on Jeopardy. Perfection.

Covered a lot of ground in my six days here, but found myself constantly yearning to be close to the ocean... the plants looked so sick... the tomatoes at the grocery store made me want to cry from how sick they looked.

I can't put my finger on it. It must be culture shock. But still, everything is beautiful. I am really quite nervous, and wondering if I really have the strength to apply everything I've learned to the 'real world' (as in... not Maui). It's easy to feel enlightened in paradise. Let's see how things roll when I find myself suddenly in Boston, in a cubicle, at the onset of a winter I haven't the faintest concept of. Eeep!

Mike said I seemed much stronger, as if all along I'd been a muted version of my true self until now. Like I'd been timid about my own self-expression. I really can't wait to test drive this new path.

Life 2.0, here I come.

9/15/06 - What Dreams May Come

2007-07-11T17:50:00.000-04:00

There's a lot to look forward to, these days.

There's also a hell of a lot to look back on, and fondly.

I don't know if I've ever been so unafraid of change! It's so liberating.

Monday around noon I leave for L.A. and I get there at 8:45pm. I'll be 'hitting the ground running', is what I called it, because by some strange coincidence my best friend Carl happens to be arriving in L.A. from Minneapolis at 9pm that same night. We haven't seen each other in over a year. Bjorn, my geisha angel is picking me up. Maybe we'll have ramen again? It'll be a tradition.

EdIT and the Glitch Mob are playing at the Temple Bar in Santa Monica the night I get there (delightful coincidence). They were by far my favorite DJs at Burning Man. Holy Moly. And Carl offered to buy me a drink, even.

Kate gets into L.A. from SF on the 19th, and we'll all have a big fat reunion (and perhaps a roller derby party at Winston's). I have plans for a trampoline-themed birthday party for Corey on the 20th. I'm planning on seeing everybody while jumping in all directions, and fast.

I fly out to Texas on the 23rd. Then I'll have a week and a half to sell my car, pack my things, read a book for my job, name my price (my salary is still being negotiated but I think realistically it'll be around $45K minimum, which is fine with me and still twice what I was making as a research assistant) and see my friends and family. Expect gee-tar twanging, whiskey-drinking and rabble-rousing, my pretties.

Second week of October, I settle into my new place. Randomly found a beautiful cottage online with a woman from Maui, who has a kitty, a garden, a porch, and other such pleasantries that I've been perfectly dreaming of. All conveniently located in Braintree, MA... the same place as my employment, and a train ride away from the city.

And who knows what's in store for me. My wildest dreams imagined, and only because I imagined them.

Loose plans:

Halloween in NYC with Amanda... a roadtrip down to CT to see the leaves changing and other such northeastern indulgences.

Philippines during Christmas time. I know that my grandfather found out he couldn't come to the U.S. this year. Perhaps I can come keep him company!

New Year's secret mission with Amanda. Sshh. It's a secret (and it's in the jungle).

March, Carl comes out to Boston for his birthday, my treat. Yessssss.

April, myself and the other tantra students (Erin, Amanda, Willem, and Nick) reunite to attend Tracy and Justin's wedding in Louisiana- a week long Cajun-style celebration.... hoyl moly.

And of course, next year's Burning Man. I'm totally going with my boss.

9/05/06 - Like Describing Colors To A Blind Person

2007-07-11T17:49:00.000-04:00

that's what someone told me more than once, when describing what it's like to try and explain Burning Man to someone who hasn't been.

So what can I do to explain... Amanda, Gabriel, Zelis and I loaded 8 coolers full of coconuts into an airplane, a minivan, an RV and finally into Black Rock City, nevada.

Hilarity, clarity, enlightenment, pain, pleasure and everything in between ensued within the backdrop of an unimaginably creative dreamscape. The Playa is like a blank canvas on which every human being with the dedication and the ravenous need to express themselves visually, audially and behaviorally splattering their imprints as far as the eyes can see. Robot walking spiders, time machines, seahorses and alien belgian waffles. People on stilts with wings and horse hoofs. A naked man spraypainted bright red with tennis shoes on and a cane.

And all with no hint of centrallized organization (because there is none). It is the most beautiful, disturbing and exciting display of cultural emergence on the planet. A city, built up in the dusty barren desert of Nevada, celebrated and burned to the ground one week out of every year. There are no rules, and if there are, they are not followed. Have you ever seen the order in chaos? If you haven't, then you haven't been to burning man. To witness that no matter how far out you push the limits, the thing that ties a community together is its limitlessness, this dreamscape we shared for one week.

Wow.

I didn't think anything would blow my mind more than Maui. And I suppose one can't really compare the two experiences, as they enrich each other in the life I am blessed to call my own.

Everything is accelerating. Gabe and Z wanted to go to Tahoe and Amanda hitched a ride back to L.A.

I wanted to go back to San Francisco, to see Kate and Maryanne, and just because I felt the pull. So I hitchhiked from Black Rock City to SF, first in an RV full of sleep-deprived acid casualties, which was as hilarious as it was dangerous, and then from Berkeley to the Headlands with a troll of a guy named Timmy, who flipped out on me, dumped me and my stuff into a shopping cart next to a grocery store in Mill Valley and drove off.

I laughed out loud to myself because here I was, homeless, with my stuff in a shopping cart. A ha!

It wasn't so bad though because I happened to be 10 minutes away from Kate, who showed up randomly because she had to mail a letter in the post office next to said grocery store.

So here I am in the Headlands across the Golden Gate Bridge from SF, at an artist's commune established in an old army bunker with a sexy boy sitting next to me (sweet!). As soon as I showed up I helped Kate with her worktrade work, which wasn't much different from the work I did in Maui. Had delicious homemade pizza in the mess hall... the place is a much bigger commune than the one in Maui, with a totally different vibe (SF is a bike ride away) and I washed dishes in exchange for my delicious dinner. The library is cush and I just watched the sun set over the fog while eating fresh baked german chocolate cake.

Tomorrow I head into the city with Kate to meet up with Mitch and then who-knows-what. Friday I fly back to Maui and Nick is picking me up in Justin's sweet ass white convertible. Then we will feast on Opaka Paka and I will give Nick the big fat hug and kiss I've been thinking about giving him. That boy is an angel. I'll be staying with Willem and Erin over at the Hui, which will be AWESOME. I keep wondering why I'm leaving Maui. It's so wonderful.

Fly back to L.A. on the 18th, just in time to see Carl on Jeopardy in L.A. an reunite with him. I LOOOOOVE that boy and I can't fucking WAIT to see him! It's been too damn long. Kate and Carl and I are about to have an L.A. reunion of epic proportions. 9/23, back to Texas for a week or so, and then onward to Boston to do the Good Work.

Life is colorful, babies.

I think I'm gonna go shower now. For Christ's sake.

8/27/06 - The Obligatory Burning Man Post

2007-07-11T17:46:00.002-04:00

Okay, kids. So I'm going.

Gabriel bought Amanda and I both round-trip tickets from Maui to burning man, mobile home etc. So here we go, without even enough time to wrap my head around it-

-the game plan- we fly into SF tomorrow night, rent a van, gather materials, rent a mobile home, drive to burning man, and then disappear into white dusty insanity for ten days. THEN, we fly BACK to Maui because I can' tink of a better thing to do than jump into the ocean in Maui after ten days in the desert. After that, Oleg is flying me straight to Boston so we can have a talk, then back to Texas for a bit. Sound like fun? That's because it is.

Last time on the internet for a while. Wish me luck, hope I don't get too sunburned (good golly! connecting Maui/L.A. tribes! I can't WAIT!)

so much love,

your Seph

8/25/06 - I Guess It's Time.

2007-07-11T17:46:00.001-04:00

It looks like my life is entering into another period of transition. How has my perception of change been altered by this experience? It used to be so hard... and not that the difficulty has changed... but there is a lightness to the uncertainty of it- a lack of worry replaced by anticipation for what is next to come.

I knew that the time was fast approaching for me to leave this place. I was telling Nick (Maui Nick) that leaving paradise might be the most difficult thing I will ever have to do. But I do it with joy, and anticipation (the good kind).

Amanda left Kahua today, had had enough of Kutira and had atuned herself to the changing tides, read the signs, and let go of the rope to resign to free fall. The lady who picked us up in her Jeep hitchhiking today reminded us that yesterday was the New Moon, the symbol of change, the working out of details- and the best time to dive headfirst into the unknown, no matter what.

What is going to happen next? The wind was still on Maui today. Running around in the studio helping Raphael clean up, the sweat dripped from my forehead like water falling from the cliffs of this island. The mosquitos were having a field day. Was there no relief?

The tantra retreat was pure magic. I felt like I came into myself, and I really believe that we all did, in one way or another. All of it came to a climax at the wedding of Gurudeva and Joy yesterday, with the sun setting in the background. I was the flower girl, spreading plumerias (precious) at the feet of the bride, who was dressed in the richest hue of red. Liliquoy cheesecake... champagne... love... it was perfect.

It felt strange to return to the normal schedule of meeting at 10am to do the work on the land that we were assigned to do for the day. Why was the air so still? It was like the calm before the storm. Unease was hanging in atmosphere, we were breathing it, shallow breaths, eyes to the ground. Kutira asked me when I was leaving and I said in one week.

One week left in Maui. One week left in Maui. I repeat it to myself because I have to believe it. It was so hot today. I couldn't think. Amanda and I hitchhiked into Pa'ia to be near our sweet ocean, to find some clarity. There, we ran into Klaus and Regina from the retreat and they invited us to dinner at the Fish Market (we meet with them in about an hour, I am at the internet cafe, we no longer have internet).

Walking around, we run into Gabriel, our most magical DJ and he beckons to Amanda and I and says, "I've been thinking of you to a lot lately for some reason and I have a strong feeling you should both come to Burning Man with me, and so I'm buying both of you round trip plane tickets, so that we can all go together."

This was about fifteen minutes ago, at the gas station next door. Well well. What do I say? A plane ticket to L.A.

Burning Man. For free. Gabriel looked at the both of us and said, "It's clear that you are both a unit, so you should both come." Fate is pushing Amanda and I together. We are a duo to be reckoned with. Instead of drawing energy from each other, we build new energy. I read something about it in a book once.

So what next? We leave this Monday. If I were to return, I would come back ten days later. Am I ready to leave Maui in three days? It's all happening so fast. And it's all so much fun. I feel like my head is about to explode. Mainland, full force, here I come.

8/18/06 - I Fall Over Horizontal Now.

2007-07-11T17:43:00.000-04:00

Here is a story of how somehow I learned that if you can imagine something, you can make it a reality. Here at the school, they call it 'manifesting'. I'm kind of... I dunno. What the fuck. I think I might be the luckiest girl in the world. Luck isn't even the right word. But what am I going to call it, 'magic'? Whatever. Words are just words.

I got a package in the mail today from my mom- a shiny red box, to be exact. Inside it was a white skirt (a present from an aunt), two bottles of Gummy Vitamins (thanks Mom I love you), another present from another aunt, and my mail.

Just FYI, I have less than $20 in my bank account right now. That's right, all the money I have in the world doesn't amount to a $20 bill. Granted, I'm also the happiest and most carefree I've ever been. Money doesn't mean a whole lot when you've got fruit growing on the vines everywhere, you work at the place you live, hitchhiking is legal and you live in paradise.

As far as getting back to the mainland was concerned, I was planning for about two weeks from now. While I had no money, I just felt confident that money would come to me somehow... that it would just figure itself out. No point stressing about it, right?

Well back to the shiny red box. Inside it was a check from my old job- for $800. I don't really know what that's for.... but.... now I have my ticket back to L.A., then to Texas and Boston, not to mention some PartAY money for the pit-stops in between. Oh, and I have a decent pension which I may cash when necessary of around $1000. When I get back, I plan on selling my beloved (but broken) Charlie VW for another $2000.

So I needed money? Well there you have it. Lucky lucky lucky. (Magic magic magic)

FurtherMore... I had been in debt and my credit in jeopardy for some time now for forgetting that I had to pay for car insurance. (I may be the MOST terrible with money out of anyone I have ever met... and I have seriously just been hired into a financial advisement firm in Boston...ha. ha. ha. But no, really. I'm serious.) I haven't really had the kind of spare money to pay it.... and to be honest, I just don't give a shit about my credit.

Fortunately, I also received a letter from the Florida Supreme Court in the mail saying that Progressive had been sued and the settlement involved all people under a certain "class" (which the letter said included me) and that I was eligible for benefits, and all credit reports wiped clean. I don't really understand... but apparently I submit a claim and that's that. No more debt.

So now I am debt-free (as far as Progressive is concerned) and have enough money to get home. Lucky Lucky Lucky.

Things are going so well (in general) that I'm starting to frighten myself. No really, I fear the backlash. No one should be this lucky (magic), right? *faint*

8/7/06 - The Good Work

2007-07-11T17:37:00.000-04:00

I've been pretty bad about updating the blog, but I suppose that's what happens when everything is hectic and things are in flux in a way that makes you think of tall, strong deep blue waves crashing against the lava rock chests of this island.

What kind of adventures have I been having? I suppose the point is that I have been having adventures.

The energy of the crew has shifted. Amanda, Willem and I are all planning on leaving the island at the end of this month. Willem is going back to Germany to be with family, and then to Spain. Amanda is stopping by L.A. to work for a while and re-acclimate to mainland life, and then on to Texas to meet up with a guy named 'Catfish' to learn how to basejump. She'd been recruited by one of the guests, on the of the few professional basejumpers in the world.

My plan? It's still up in the air, but it won't be long before it falls to the earth in the proper configuration. Still corresponding with Oleg the Russian, and his colleagues. Today he sent me the details of the apartment I may be staying in. I'll keep you updated.

Point being, everything is changing. For a while, there was a lull as we began to refer to our beloved Maui in the past tense. Then Nick came to the land, our coi pond expert from Austin, and we were delighted to see the island again for the first time through a fresh pair of eyes, political unrest at the Little Beach, surfers in Pa'ia, Hedonism at LeFleur's... the whole thing.

It seems like the island is giving us a crash course in reconsidering 'normal' life. Things gradually floating back into 'reality' (and I say this in quotes because this has all been so very real... and now we must depart... if anything, just to see what this gorgeousness looks like from 'over there'.)

Paradise life is just that. Life in paradise. But Amanda and I have learned so much in our lives, and we've gathered skills along the way- not only do we have ideas, but we have the intelligence, resourcefulness, integrity and spiritual strength to do the Good Work... to do anything, really. It goes to follow that we feel a sense of duty, of obligation to our world to continue onward- but we will always keep Maui in our hearts, someday to return to it when the time is right.

Nick read my Tarot cards, which is always an interesting experience. I love the meaning in it; tarot never really tells you exactly anything about the past, present or future. Instead, it redirects your awareness toward recognizing certain trends, and I came upon the realization that working Boston, while it will be a difficult transition, and most likely unpleasant, is part of my contribution to the Good Work. I will learn so much. Most of my uncertainty is gone regarding which decision to make (I had recently been considering continuing west, unsure about which path would be more of a learning experience)

So where was my head going... I was explaining to Nick and Amanda that I am reborn, into something. Have I fully blossomed yet? Who knows, I didn't even know I could become who I am.

I am becoming all that I am

I should be more careful with my words. Different words mean different things to different people. This is something I'll learn when I return to the mainland.

It's hard to keep your mind in the present when the future is so near.

I'll meditate on that. Our spiritual retreat starts on August 18 and goes 8 hours a day for a week. In the end, we will swim with the dolphins. Kutira calls them on her didjeridoo. I wish I could explain how much stronger, and aware and capable I feel now, but I just feel it, and you will too, when I finally get a chance to give you a hug. I feel like I've lived generations of lifetimes of wisdom. I have learned so much.

I think about what it will feel like, going from loving, warm, inviting Maui Paradise to cold, harsh, grey, office-ey Boston. I think about what happens when you put a cold glass into boiling water (it shatters, yes?). But then I think about tempered glass, that magical stuff. It has been fortified, and it is made to withstand the pressure of millions of surprised molecules running fullstop into each other.

I'll make it just fine. I'd be like the world's first scuba diver, surprised at my buoyancy and sustainance in such an unfamiliar territory, and faced with challenge of moving my legs a certain way, of breathing a certain way, and of looking all around me for sharks.

Sounds like an adventure to me.

7/27/06 - My Life Since May

2007-07-11T17:36:00.000-04:00

you know what happens after you quit your horrible bunny-killing job and hop on an overnight plane to L.A.?

You puppeteer for a music video, and work as a street vendor drawing portraits in venice, and have a gallery show Downtown. At night you dress up like a victorian porcelain doll with your gorgeous transgendered roommate and swing huge bottles of Jack Daniels around, out-'bad-ass'-ing all the black hoodie-wearing electronic junkies at underground noise shows in the industrial district by moshing and battling until you draw blood.

Then, when the time is right, you buy a one-way plane ticket to Maui with the last of your money and end up living in a treehouse in the middle of the rainforest on sacred land at a hidden school of taoist tantra.

You drink psychedelic ayahuasca tea with shamans from the brazilian rainforest in a room with 50 other people, all tripping harder than they've ever tripped in their life. Realizing that they're all really some kind of strange cult, you decide it is your metaphorical duty to run off into the jungle alone to talk to god. The next day you go to the little beach and eat a salad with a naked balding hedonist named LeFleur and watch an 80 year old lady fire-dance wearing nothing but a shell chain around her waist.

You hitchhike to watch friends ignite intimidating fireworks on the fourth of july and go to secret parties held at certain mile markers around the island. You swim with sea turtles in crystal clear water, you surf, snorkel and eat delicious fruits and meet delicious people who feed you raw cacao mixed with orange oil, goji berries, agave nectar and coconut butter.

Then you meet a crazy Russian businessman who, tantalized by your lifestyle, offers you an all expense paid relocation to Boston: an apartment, a car, a 60K/yr salary and periodic months of travelling in exchange for working in his firm. The job: Teaching incredibly wealthy people how to lead a personally fulfilling life.

I think back on the entry I wrote on the first day of this year. Amanda and Rob and the Ducks and I had such a great adventure on New Year's Eve, we knew that it would set the rhythm for the entire year. I couldn't have even imagined. I gotta say, this has been the best year of my life as I remember it, and it only promises to get better. Next new years? Amanda and I are gathering the team for a secret mission.

Does it get better? But of course. Today Amanda flew to Oahu with Plush to kidnap a DJ for the next party- and to watch a movie. I took a leisurely drive around the island after dropping her off, and enjoyed a moment or two of solitude, taking in this gorgeous (GORGEOUS) landscape and listening to music, smoking a cigarette with the windows rolled down... one of my favorite things to do on the mainland, and almost unbearably decadent on the island of Maui. Last year I pushed my limits of pain and sacrifice and realized that not only could I handle it, I could become a better, stronger person from it. Now I am pushing my limits of pleasure. This life is so damn good I can barely stand it.

Phone meeting with Oleg on Friday afternoon. Should know within the end of the week whether or not I'm actually going to Boston... we shall see. Bjorn is convinced the Russian is a devil in my personal mythology, but I always like a little vinegar in my oil. Makes things interesting.

7/20/06 - Maui Flux

2007-07-11T17:30:00.002-04:00

things are changing and constantly in flux it seems... a little Maui switcheroo.

The guests from Shangri La are just about all gone; Oleg left yesterday, and BB leaves today... Sophia's flight is noon-ish later today, too- so we're losing three of the characters in our little play.

Yesterday was jubilant, in spite of the fact that I've been pretty sick for the past few days (sick in Maui? I know, it's strange). Le Fleur came by to give Willem a massage for his fucked up back, and Roman and his pretty girlfriend came by to hike down to the waterfall for a fresh water dip, and then to the ocean for a saltwater one. Since I was incapacitated I stayed resting under the bamboo shade in a lounging chair, talking to Daniel. Daniel's leaving in a week, which makes me pretty sad because we've all become very close in the time that I've been here, like a family, so it will be like losing a member of the family. He's not moving that far, to Pukalani, but we surely won't see him very often, since our lives pretty much revolve around the Bamboo Farm.

We all played Jungle Ball with a bamboo stick for a bat, the ball Amanda and I made during the Container Shuffle, and a handful of people with no set team. We all drank coconut champagne (sometimes the coconuts are sweet and effervescent) and ate chocolate and kona mud pie ice cream that Amanda and Daniel brought back from town. Played chess with Jess, and Sophia gave me a beautiful belly-dancing sash (the most beautiful, really) because she "wanted me to keep dancing".

The prospect of a job in Boston as a financial advisor carries a little bit of conflict. I like my life here a lot (of course) and I can't think of a more stark contrast between two places and situations; having no money in paradise and living in a tropical climate with friends, or moving to Boston alone to train for a sound job with a good boss that makes a minimum of 60K/year- a company car, paid-for housing... and promise for a comfortable, 'normal' life... as long as I make the reasonably long-term commitment to stay with the firm.

The job sounds good. Sometimes I dream of a place to call my own, maybe a kitty, a nice library of books, the comfort of not having to worry about whether I have enough money to eat, or pay bills (not that I worry much about that).

It's really just a question of whether I'm ready for that... I'd have to say 'no, not yet', but it's not every day an opportunity like this arises, and it's true I've always had significant money problems which could be eradicated within a few years of working with the firm (whose work is good, and worth my time anyway). Not to mention a good income facilitates future travels. Time, like everything else, is relative.

Anyway. I'm tired of thinking about it. I promised I would give my mind a rest about it for a day or so.

Amanda and Willem are at odds, which makes the home situation a little awkward for everybody, not that it's anyone's fault. Amanda's been talking about leaving Kutira's land, but I think it mostly has to do with her not wanting to deal with the awkwardness of the situation.

So, no more happy, joyful Willem... Amanda seems uncomfortable, Sophia's leaving, Oleg and BB are gone, I'm sick, Daniel's leaving in a week, a new boy (named Nick... hmm...) from Austin is coming the day Daniel leaves, Kutira arriving on Tuesday. Ch-ch-ch-chaaaanges.

On the other side of things I've become familiar with many of the people on Maui and (dare I say?) have sort of a 'crew' now. Briefly had relations with this guy named Will, who is a sweet person, but as usual I prefer to fly solo... not because of him, but because I am really just feeling "Josephine as a single unit". I am happy with that, but I feel bad when a person wants to hang out all the time and I realize I don't have energy I'm willing to devote to another person right now. I should be more considerate.

Feeling a little better today. Still a little sick, but ready to start working again... it's so funny. We've brought ourselves literally to the point of 'tears of joy' and suddenly things are getting shaken up, by the winds or the changing tides, or perhaps by some subconscious drive towards something less homogenous than pure bliss. I really like all of it, makes for a healthy dose of tension, I think. What's in store for us in the coming weeks? I don't know, I don't know!

...and I can't wait.

7/15/07 - On How Things Could Possibly Be More perfect

2007-07-11T17:30:00.001-04:00

My faith that life's blessings fluctuate and come full circle have come to fruition.

Someone once told me that the path to spiritual enlightenment can be attained just by spending a few moments every day in genuine awe. Boy, am I in awe.

I have been having a blast here (of course). What has been going on?

A beautiful full moon party in Kaopo, on the other side of the crater/mountain from where we live, between mile marker 30 and 31 on the Haleakala highway. Look for the unmarked dusty trail and you see a beacon of light, green light, not that intense blue light of the moon that the clouds are diffusing over you in a way that you would imagine clarity would manifest itself as haze.

Kaopo is the desert in Maui, in case you ever lived on an island and wanted to know what a desert was like. Three inch-long spikes portruding from angry bushes turned my sandals into swiss cheese and the palms of my feet into throbbing reminders that blood pulsates from my legs to my heart via the stomping pressures of my uncontrollable dancing.

Gabriel and Zelis are spinning like vampires into the night, luring you in with their irresistable jungle rhythm and hypnotic sounds of broken, beaten, electric honey for your ears. Fire dancers are flinging wild lances and chains dipped in lighter fluid and casting the most intense shadows on the enraptured faces of everyone who's come out to this secret party, which is advertised only by word of mouth on the night of it's fruition.

A wild dust storm howls over the ravine and giant lava rock cliffs hang over us like guardian beasts. We dance with our eyes closed, mud-streaked tears, the wind blowing, pulling on my silk skirt like mother nature's puppet strings.

I find that I can't breath and no matter how good Gabriel's amazing DJing is my eyes sting from the intense dust storm. I feel like a character in Dune, hood over my head, scarf over my face, running out to the ocean, three inch thorns threatening tender toes.

The ocean, like all of the things in Maui's desert, is harsh and intense. The sand is made of coconut-sized boulders. You threaten to twist your ankle if you try to walk on it so you crawl, tangle of arms and legs, Gollum-style and then sit there under monochromatic fullmoonlight, contemplating the possibility that the boulders are really sand-sized, and you've just grown smaller. Suddenly we are such small humans, on such a huge beach.

The waves are monstrous, miniature tsunamis towering overy our head and crashing with full force against the rocks. The spray makes you feel like it's constantly raining. As the waves pull back, those billions of gallons of water-strength pull the boulders with them as if they were tiny pebbles, and the rumble of all those heavy rocks rolling into the sea is enormous, like a stampede, or a cavalry. You feel the earth move under you and you hear it all the way until the boulders drop into the muted depths of the pacific ocean.

The next day driving through Hana and back to Huelo we emerge from the desert into lush, rainforest, waterfalls at every turn. On the side of the road are wooden stands everywhere, full of fruit and flowers with cardboard boxes for you to deposit money in, full of good faith that you will pay the good farmers the amount written on the coconut in Sharpie marker. A woman gives us as many liloquoys as we can carry, and a few papayas for a dollar.

We have a feast picnic of fruit and cheese on Red Sand beach, which is an intense hike to a beautiful lagoon of water, protected from murderously turbulant waves by a barrier of lava rock. Three sexy male fire dancers from the full moon party the night before are swimming naked by the rocks, hunting for shellfish and fish. They come to us with tasty clams and feed them to us by hand, and we talk and sunbathe and laugh and lay.

and so on and so forth. Amanda and I made a softball out of cardboard, rocks, styrofoam and masking tape and played baseball with a wooden stick while guarding Kutira's container from Bali on the Hana highway.

________

... but wait. None of this is what I meant to write about. My point was, I had been casually talking with one of our guests, an intimidating Russian named Oleg who turned out to be very sweet and not intimidating at all, about spirituality; one's life path, the role of money in my life, books, philosophy, etc. We traded books, and had many good conversations. He told me "You're very young to be thinking about these things and reading these books" to which I responded, "You're never too young or too old to be conscious."

I talked to him yesterday and he told me that his job is just to talk to people about what they want out of life, and to help them to invest or spend their money in a spiritually and personally fulfilled manner.

His business started when a wealthy advisee, in full faith, invested millions of dollars in Oleg. When Oleg only had one client, he made enough to support himself comfortably in Harvard square for a year. Just by talking to people, he makes easily enough to live comfortably off of. (Here I laugh to myself. I have managed to make $1000 stretch for a quarter of a year... at this rate could live off of a tiny fraction of what he makes!)

"Interesting." I say. I explain that monetary wealth doesn't mean a whole lot to me, I just use it to eat really, and to travel. And he says, "That's exactly what I'm looking for."

After I stare at him slightly amused, he smiles and says, "Josephine. I would be honored if, when your adventures lead you to the right point, you would come and work for me. I have a good feeling about it, and I think you would be perfect for the job."

He then tells me that, whenever I decide that my travels are over, that he would be willing to fly me from wherever I am to Boston, set me up with a place to live, and hire me in full faith as a financial advisor for his spiritually emphasized financial advisement firm. I tell him I'm bad with money. He tells me 'bad with money' doesn't matter. 'Good with spirit' matters.

I am flabbergasted. All this from casual conversation, from just being me!

What a funny thing to report: "How did I get here, a 22-year-old 'spiritual guide' financial advisor in Boston with no knowledge of money? Oh, my boss Oleg the crazy Russian found me running around barefoot, filthy, broke and happy in the jungles of Maui and now pays for me to talk to people about how to live their life and spend their money in a spiritually fulfilling way."

This is ridiculous. Really! But we will see where this all goes. Travels first. Work with Oleg? He is a fantastic individual and I would be happy to give it a shot. Why not? The work that he does is truly worthwhile. We shall see. But isn't it perfect, though. I came out here without a single plan or expectation and things are turning out more perfectly than I could have ever imagined... of course, really. Truly.

7/07/06 - Some Day I Will Write About All of This

2007-07-11T17:29:00.000-04:00

The older women here at Kahua were talking amongst themselves, mentioning that they wished they'd kept journals of all the good times in their lives. I really would like to write about my ayahuasca experience, and all the other beautiful experiences I'm having here, jumping into every ocean and waterfall pool, climbing cliffsides in the jungle, hitchhiking to see fireworks and ceremonies with shamans, all other magical things. But really, it's hard to write when you're having so much fun. I took some pictures though, and finally got around to uploading them. (Kutira and Rafael are out of town, glorious downtime!!!!)

I put them onto flickr because it's easier. you can see them here:

My Maui Flickr

love to you all, enjoy!

aloha,
Seph

7/01/06 - Tomorrow's Ritual

2007-07-11T17:28:00.000-04:00

tomorrow, after our amazonian shamans go to watch the soccer game in the morning, is our ayahuasca ritual.

I have not met the brazilians yet, but they are here on our land now. I had an intense meeting with Kutira preparing me for tomorrow's ritual. She asked me if I was ready to accept the responsibility of reckoning with all that I will envision, dark or light. She expressed that she was protective of me because of my youth, which I thought was trivial, since everyone else is in their mid-twenties and I am only a few years younger (and in many ways, years older).

A few rules: we, the students, must wear all white robes that cover most of our skin. We cannot make eye contact with anyone of the opposite sex because the ayahuasca is an intensely solitary venture and any potential sexual energies will disrupt the balance of the ceremony. We cannot tie up our hair for energy reasons. And we cannot cross our legs a certain way, either (lotus position ok). When the shamans ask us questions, we have to answer a certain way. The only time we make eye contact with the shaman is when he looks into our eyes to determine how much of the ayahuasca to pour into our cup. We must drink every drop, because it is holy to them and an insult if we do not do so. We will be drinking the ayahuasca three or four times throughout the day. The ceremony is eight hours long.

We have each been assigned a spiritual guide to help us throughout the ritual. Our guides will be wearing all blue. The ritual will be held at the dharma center, and there is a therapy room for both men and women respectively, should the need arise (in other words, should the trip be intensely bad).

There is an almost complete possibility that vomiting will occur. I don't think I have a clear concept of the intensity of the ayahuasca ritual, but I think it is best to go into it with an open heart and mind and no negative thoughts. I have nothing but innocent intentions for this spiritual journey.

I am a little sad that I will not be going on the hike with Daniel through the bamboo forest, which I hear is quite intense and beautiful, and dead-ends at the waterfall. But participating in this ritual is certainly a once in a lifetime opportunity. Perhaps he will want to go tomorrow.

Kutira wants Tenzen, her adopted Tibetan son and I to collaborate on a comic describing the internship for future students here. I admit it's a little hard to explain the set-up: for those unfamiliar, those who come to work here agree to work 23 hours a week on the land, either building temples or gardening, or housework in exchange for living here (we each have our own temple) and for our education in taoist tantra, courtesy of Rafael and Kutira, our mentors.

It is worth every drop of sweat. Papayas and bananas and coconuts fall at our feet, food is cheap, the people are lovely, and this place is a sacred home for anyone who steps foot here. It is, in every sense of the word, paradise.

Good blessings come to everyone who steps foot on Maui. I can't think of a better place or circumstance for this intense experience I am about to have. Wish me well friends. So much love.

6/29/2006 - This Island Life

2007-07-11T17:27:00.000-04:00

My muscles are sore and ache from all the bamboo-massaging and painting and gardening and climbing and hiking and swimming and surfing and dancing (oooh. sooo much dancing).

Of course it is a good ache. When I walk up the side of the mountain from the new temple to the tiki house I think of little mitochondria forming to compensate for my tired muscles and my legs that are teetering on the brink of "shall we work? maybe not but probably so".

The food we eat is healthy. We like to buy fish from the hawaiian boys who go spear fishing in the waters near Paia, where it is crystal blue and we like to dive with our faces to the ocean floor, suspended in salty bliss listening to the carbonated sounds of tickled and tossed sand.

Sleep is restful and well-deserved. This is the most active I've ever been and it is exhilarating. Amanda keeps getting sick, which is perplexing but I think it is part of the purge. We have been thinking about the joyful purge a lot lately.

I have not left the land all week. We went into town a lot last week and this week has been meditative, re-acquainting ourselves with our sacred land... on the ground, in the dirt pulling weeds and planting seedlings, treating them with the loving care as if they were our children, and pulling out scaldingly pink radishes and complimenting them on how very beautiful they are.

I have started playing my guitar every day again, not because I am sad but because beautiful music comes into my head and I am almost able to create some version of it with the chords I know, which makes me happy. The blisters are reforming on my fingers. I was playing a song the other night, one that particularly feels good to my ears and Amanda said, "I really love that song. It makes me think of a lover you've lost and miss, but that everything is going to be okay."

That made me happy, because I feel that way a lot. As if I were communicating in a way that words don't do justice. Music is heavenly. Song and dance is purposeless as life.

I had fear of the bliss I was experiencing. As if it weren't holistic enough to satisfy me, but as I was writing in my journal last week, problems don't disintegrate as the plane clears the mainland and your feet touch the healing earth of this island. They are here with me and I am healing them with every meditation and every thought. Things don't stand still here, nor are they tucked away in some dark crevice, waiting to emerge as neglected monsters.

Rather, everything is illuminated. There is a light shining on them and I see them for all they are, just that, problems to be solved or seen for their awe-inspiring profundity.

Anyway back to work. Things are always in flux here, I am realizing Rafael and Kutira prefer it that way... such vivid souls come and go from the land and change it in a way only they can. Two new people this week, Sofia and Jess. In August, Daniel leaves and two boys, a Texan (expert in coi) and a Swiss boy are coming. Amanda and Willem leave at the end of August. Amanda might stay until October. Depending on how I feel about the new boys I may stay longer, perhaps until October or November. Then on further west. I would like to stay on islands for a while. I wish I could sail. Maybe I will learn.

6/28/06 - Brazilian Shamans

2007-07-11T17:26:00.000-04:00

This weekend four shamans from the brazilian amazon are coming to our land to perform a ritual involving the sacred ayahuasca.

I am going to partake, because it is not often you get a chance to participate in such an intense ritual in the traditional way with the guidance of four shamans from the Amazon.

We have to do a fast and meditation in the days beforehand to lower the probability of getting intensely sick. I know I haven't been the best at updating but the internet doesn't make a whole lot of sense out here. Word of mouth is where it's at.

Life is intense. Can you feel it? You know who you are.

aloha,

Seph

6/20/06 - Heading West Until East

2007-07-11T17:24:00.000-04:00

Hello lovelies,

I have been writing and writing and writing and living and living (a few more of those, too) since I have been here and it has been beautiful, and blessed, and truly magical. I intended to post my journal entries about my travels but they are pretty lengthy, (six or seven pages apiece) and I can't imagine anyone would want to read things that long, so I will just give an update on what I'm up to.

A few days ago, we caught and killed a chicken and made chicken soup. I hitchhiked to Paia and wandered around the island. I saw Steve-O's land, which is a gorgeous model of sustainable living and one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen (think, waterfall, ocean, and a sea of clover and an entire forest rich and abundant with fruits and vegetables... you could walk and eat.) Kutira (the owner)'s cat almost died and I saved its life with my magical animal care abilities, and now Kutira loves me and has taken me as her apprentice in learning the art of tantra. I am now staying in her beautiful room in the main house, with the best view of the ocean. I will be living here at the Kahua Institute at least until September. Other than learning tantra, my responsibilities include cultivating a small sustainable permaculture garden on the property and painting and building the new temple.

A lot will be accomplished during my time here, as I am learning a lot and manifesting and creating a lot. The meditation practices are phenomenal but I am still grounded, and my heart is still with the mainland. Someday I will come back hopefully with the tools to help make the world a better place (in my own little way). I am learning to surf and pretty much living better than I ever dreamt I could live. This land is magical and blessed and so are its people.

Whenever it is that I leave here (it may not be for a while... Kutira is wonderful and welcoming and there is a lot of work to be done here), I will continue west to the Phillipines to spend time with my family and to familiarize myself with the land. Hopefully I will be able to do some solitary exploration on some of the smaller islands, and continue to work/trade in exchange for room and board. It is a fantastic lifestyle, I enjoy it very much and this is a good time in my life to experience it.

In December, I will go from the Phillipines to Thailand, hopefully by sailboat, to spend time with my dearest friend, Bjorn during her surgery. There I will meet up with what Amanda calls our 'tribe', or the Worlwide Gypsy Network. Everyone, come to Thailand in December. Amazing things are abrew.

From there, as far as my conceivable future permits, I will head back to the mainland to share everything I've experienced. We shall see :)

Who knew I could live life this way. I thought I dreamt it. But as I am reading Emergence by Steven Johnson, and through my understanding of biology, philosophy, and communication, I am realizing that nothing we can conceive of exists outside of the realm of physical possibility. In other words, if you can imagine it, well, then it exists in some state or another.

You make your life beautiful. This life is beautiful.

aloha,

Sephi

6/17/06 - Maui Diary Entry 3

2007-07-11T17:23:00.000-04:00

(because I forgot to post entry 2)

Amanda tried to explain to me what being in Maui is like when I was still on the mainland, but I could not possibly have known, and neither could you, unless youve been here

But today as I was reading out loud to Amanda in the meditation garden overlooking the ocean, I came across a passage that said something along the lines of,

When you experience those moments of clarity, of needing and wanting nothing, of understanding that all you could ever want or need is right here, in this moment, as you take this breath, the inclination would be that you need not share this with anyone else. But on the contrary, we as human beings are driven and motivated to share this luminescence with one another, not out of obligation, but out of sheer delight, and because it cannot be contained.

And so I write this, because night has fallen and my thoughts are still filled with excitement. This life is so beautiful, and I am so filled with joy. I do not attribute this to my current location, although I am positive that most likely, this feeling has something to do with living in a tropical paradise far away from everything, surrounded by positivity and human Good coming from every direction.

I feel this coming from inside of me. From accepting that I deserve a good life and good things from it, and realizing that it can, in fact, (and at least for the time being) exist without economy as we understand it, or want of it. I feel it coming from an inner joy that can only come from shedding the shackles of fear and uncertainty, and from living the life of a traveler and listening to the stories of other travelers and realizing that it is totally possible to make a life of adventure and exploration a reality. It is possible to make your life what you dream it to be, whatever that may be. This brings me so much joy, as if I can handle any situation that comes my way, and celebrate it with all the love I have in my heart.

This island is full of travelers, and not just the human kind. Every living thing on this island has traveled here, from far away. Every person and plant and bird and organism has crawled onto this luscious rock in one way or another. We are all weary travelers come together to form this paradise. The land is so new, and this life is so new.

I dont know how to explain what goes on in my day-to-day life. I wake up and go to the temple that is suspended over the ocean and meditate on (what? I dont know. My mind is so clear these days. I look at the ocean and think about the light from the sun reflecting the blue of the sea on my retinas, and through some electro-chemical miracle producing the euphoria that leaves me trembling and swaying with the ocean breeze. I feel, all the time like I am riding the crest of something effortlessly, moving-moving- enjoying the view).

Kavel asks me if I want a young coconut and hacks away at it with a machete, exposing the husk. He cuts a little hole out of the top and I drink from it, and walk around in the jungle, walk out into the temple and play my guitar and drink from my coconut. Every young coconut has a different flavor. Some are neutral like water, some are sweet, others are bitter. Some are just slightly sweet and carbonated like champagne. It is always a delightful surprise.

The workload here is light for any jobs. The hardest work-trade jobs ask for 25 hours of work per week, and include all meals, and provide you with a tent, and air mattress, and sleeping bag, and lamp. Everyone understands the necessity of enjoying life, and sleeping when you feel the need to, and laying in the sun when you feel the need to, and hitching a ride to the nude beach to run around naked if you feel the need to.

Early tomorrow morning I am going to Steve-Os garden to check out my work-trade job. His garden has been here in Maui for 18 years and is one of the oldest established perma-culture gardens on the island. For 15 hours a week of gardening, pruning and general maintenance of the land, I get my own hut and become part of the tiny community that lives there. He is asking me for a two to three month commitment, which I will not promise, but am strongly considering. The garden is one mile away from the Twin Falls, and a thumb away from the Tantra Retreat that I am staying at right now.

The community is big on sustainable living and not big on electricity. During my stay there I will have to get used to deprivation of two of my greatest vices- smoking, and the internet. I never thought I would get so hippie-ed out. But its worth a try. I have a slight interest in sustainable living, just as I do in tantra, but I am always slightly wary, as always, of everything I encounter. I am perpetually a devils advocate, but always willing to try new things. I like it this way. It keeps me sharp.

I had my first lesson in tantra today, and meditated in the dark with Kavel, listening to Rafaels voice. I dont really know what tantra is, or what it means to other people. To me, many of its teachings are, like all other things, re-affirmations of what I already believe I have come to know intuitively through my natural relationship with all things in this existence. I find it impossible to forget that all things are related, and part of one whole, whether I see it or not.

When I first got here, everyone was so (blissed out, as Amanda calls it) that I was pretty sure everyone was slightly off their rocker, a lunatic, so to speak. The seriously genuine enjoyment of every bite of food, the swooning over the fresh passion fruit off the tree, the generous massages (non-perverted) the hitchhiking (Mauis main mode of transportation), the work-trading. It is so bizarrely different from any life I have ever seen.

Now I am starting to understand. The lunacy is this Maui temperament that people have, the utter confidence that everything works out for the best, and a true willingness to go out of their way to help each other out, to help a stranger out, even. A girl I met for less than a minute at the potluck on Wednesday hooked me up with this perma-culture job. The hitchhiker we picked up on the way back from Paia today offered me another (she had just left her work-trade because she was wanting more variety in her life). Rob-Rob, who Id also met for less than a minute offered me a position doing henna tattoos and portraits from $`12/hour in the city, where the resorts and tourists are. I did not take it because I did not want to be in the city, where the tourists are.

I do not think I will fully be able to digest this experience until I leave Maui and have landed myself at a point of reference. Right now I am just experiencing it. The people are good, the beaches are beautiful, the food is delicious and it is all costing me close to nothing. Soon I will not be able to write quite as much. What I have been doing, is typing in my treehouse on my laptop, and then cutting and pasting to my blog.

.I just got very distracted. It is literally POURING outside. Like you cant possibly know. In only a way that it pours on a tropical island. It sounds gorgeous, this rain is a velvet blanket thumping against the banana leaves.

Well I am sleepy. I wish I could share this experience more regularly, but sometimes, you just need to experience things, and save the sharing part for later.

To anyone reading this, so much love. I know you can feel it 5000 miles away, thats how strong it is. Mahalo, for everything, you know? And aloha. (Because we are always coming, and always going.)

6/14/06 - First Day in Maui

2007-07-11T17:22:00.000-04:00

first day in Maui

I am almost completely at a loss for words. The plane ride was generally uneventful, and I was almost disappointed in myself for how calm I felt. I even slept through take-off, and awoke to a sea of blue outside my window. Blue above and blue below, bluest sky and bluest ocean. After six hours or so and one bad Disney movie later the pilot announced that we were approaching the Big Island and that we would be in Maui in 15 minutes.

Everyone was so pleasant on the plane. I hadnt spoken to anyone or anything; there was just a general pleasantry in the air, as if everybody was on their way to some place beautiful. We had a rocky landing, but as the plane touched the ground a child somewhere giggled ecstatically as if we were on a rollercoaster and it sent a ripple of subsequent laughter shuddering all the way up to First Class.

Seeing the mountain on the Big Island for the first time, my first reaction was one of disbelief. What is this place doing here, in the middle of the ocean? What are the odds of a human being ever setting foot on this small string of islands, or seeing it as they sail by? It is so clear to me that Hawaii has almost nothing in common with the rest of America. I am in a whole other world.

Amanda picked me up at the airport, and we found ourselves at a loss for words. What do you say to one of your closest friends, when you meet up with them over 5000 miles away from home, a Pacific Ocean away from all things familiar, and in paradise? We smiled and grinned and laughed and that was enough.

Do you want to go swim in the ocean? Of course I want to go swim in the ocean. I have been dreaming of ocean waters this blue and clear my entire life. We drove straight to the beach near Paia and walked through some jungle and coconut trees. And then suddenly all this blue. I will let the photographs speak for themselves.

Amanda stripped nude and dove into the ocean, and I dove in too, wearing the sundress Id worn on the plane and am wearing now. The water was perfect and blue, and the sand had the consistency of broken shells on their way to becoming ephemeral Venice Beach sand. It was all so clean and pure, and the air smelled new- and I felt reborn. I was in paradise and I wanted to say I didnt deserve any of it, but part of me must have thought otherwise, because here I was- jumping into a warm crystal blue ocean in the middle of the Pacific, surrounded by a beautiful jungle.

We went into town to buy food from the market, various seeds and some fruits and vegetables, all organically grown on the island. I tasted my first lychee straight from the tree, and we bought papayas, and tamarindos (natures candy) and other delightful treats. And then we drove into the Bamboo Farm, where Amanda lives.
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The name is a little deceiving, because there is no farm here. The huts are made of bamboo, but it is basically a tantra retreat deep in a jungle, down a dirt road, far away from everything. We dropped the food off in the tiki hut, which is the communal space for all the workers. It is impossible to explain this place. It is truly a Garden of Eden. The entire complex runs off of solar power and is made of bamboo and surrounded by jungle. On the other side of the main house is a beautiful meditation garden overlooking the ocean.

This ocean is nothing like the one in L.A., even though it is the same one. There is no smog to cloud your vision, and no pollution to dull the vibrance of the sea. I never thought such clarity existed. The beauty of it confronts you, and shakes every doubt in your heart out of you, violently, shedding you of every negative thought youve ever had.

We ate spring rolls made from the garden for lunch, flavoring them with a raw tzatsiki that was black in color, and delicious. Amanda showed me the eagles nest loft, where I will be staying for the next few weeks. You climb a bamboo ladder to get into it, and it is mercifully mosquito-proof and tiny, and mine. Outside my window is a beautiful tangle of lush jungle, some banana trees, a coconut tree. Bundles of bananas from the trees here hang from the rafter beneath the loft. They are small, and natural, and delicious, I eat one every time I climb up into it.

Tomorrow we go to a potluck at Amandas friend Plushs house, where I will meet the people Amanda has met, including Sarah, whose garden I will be working in. I have already met the four boys that work here at the Bamboo Farm and if they are any indication of the pleasantry of the people of Maui, Im afraid I might never leave.

In all honesty, I had no idea this kind of paradise existed anywhere but in my imagination. I cant even conceive of what is going to happen next.

I imagine perfection is a boring thing to read about but so far I am sunburned and mosquito-bitten and salty and so happy. I am happy to experience this, and to know that all of this exists. I may not stay it may be too perfect.

But this feels good, and right, and coming here is the best decision I could have made. Last year was so hard for me and Amandas right. I do deserve to experience this.

2003 - Unbound

2007-07-02T09:41:00.000-04:00

Carl is writing, and Nick is staring indefinitely into the stars and somehow this old pencil with dinosaurs on it, worn down from travels in the pocket of my bag has found its way into my hand, scrawling in a book that is unbound and unwound, and the pages are falling out-

... sometimes I wonder who keeps juxtaposing every one of my perceptions until the understanding of it can only be measured by the temperature of the sensation that is traveling underneath my skin- sometimes it's done purposely by some.... one... like me, and other times, the wind, it just blows the puzzle piece into place- either way, it just happens- and it is every storybook, and movie, and song and sensation while at the same time being mine.

What a blessing, either way, or wherever it came from.

The birds sing their graces from the trees

A section of my journal resigns to gravity by my knees

And I have resigned to my hand and this pencil, and my eyes from the sky to this journal, and I grasp for words when there are none, only to share this with you.

6/12/2006 - 32 hours

2007-06-20T23:10:00.000-04:00

In about 32 hours I'm going to be stepping onto a plane headed to Maui. I'm pretty sure I don't quite have enough money to get back, but I'm not going to worry about that right now.

I love these moments before something big happens in your life. My perception of the future ends 32 hours from now... after that I have a vague concept of five hours of flight over the biggest, bluest ocean- and an island at the end of the tunnel.

I know so little about Maui and what's in store for me. It is a big giant abyss of Unknown. The (good) anxiety over it has made it difficult to sleep, so I have been exhausting myself during the day with adventure and sleeping fitfully in small bursts- last night I had the most delectable dream with the most beautiful music...

... I love dreaming about music, and all the mysterious, beautiful melodies in my subconscious. They are unidentifiable, and I wonder where they come from. Last night, a translucent blob was dancing up and down a corridor to a myriad of blue men in a moat-like orchestra pit, playing a rich, slow-motion melody. The instruments in my dreams are unlike any I've seen. The blue men had their arms inside this contraption, which was making the rich horn-like sounds of music.

Ate breakfast at Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles with Bjorn and fought a gnarly food coma for the rest of the day (The Skogies spoke of getting the meatsweats from too much barbeque... I wonder what the word is for too much chicken and waffles).

Today went better at Venice, I set up with both Mike and Kate, who was selling her photographs. I broke even, made $35, and got a tan on the beach at the same time. I am happy to have gotten to spend so much time out there, people-watching and breathing in the salty air.

Kate told me that now she looks at the vendors of Venice Beach in a completely different way, and I do too, because for a few days I was one of them, and I got to meet interesting people, and sit in the sun getting delirious off UV rays and talking and laughing with Mike, Karen and Kate.

I thought about it some and thought about what I'd been doing with my time, and what I was about to do and I felt really good, awake, really, and cognizant.

I am so blessed, living this life of mine. I'm sure there are ramifications for my youthful recklessness, but I am willing to take the chance. No matter what happens from now on, I have granted myself and been given the privilege to experience living in this way, and I wouldn't trade it for all the stability and comfort in this world.

I should probably buy a swimsuit and batteries for my camera before I leave. Packing is not a problem, because I have such a small amount of stuff with me in the first place. I'm going to miss L.A., and all the inspirational friends who have embraced me and loved me and taken care of me as if I'd never left.

This life is such a crazed rollercoaster of emotion, logic and experience. I feel engorged with gratitude right now- last time I felt this way something terrible followed, but honestly-

-I have learned more this past year than I have in any other year of my memorable life. I am so ready to face anything this life has to throw at me. I mean it, motherfuckers. This girl is unstoppable.

6/10/2006 - 2.5 Days Until Maui

2007-06-20T22:45:00.000-04:00

I just got my official flight itinerary for Maui this morning: I leave on Tuesday at 8:50am and arrive in Kahului, Maui at 11am. Five hour flight... over the Pacific Ocean... there are many thoughts to be had while coasting over a literal sea of blue.

I drew a portrait of Peggy yesterday on Kate's magnificent porch, that overlooks all of Los Angeles, including the Hollywood sign and the Griffith Park Observatory. As I was drawing her she asked if she could read from my journal out loud, and I said sure, why not. It's really interesting to hear painful things come out of someone else's mouth... your darkest, most embarrassing moments... those moments spent pining over lost loves. She'd read things about Chris that I'd forgotten about, because I always skip those pages when I look through my journal.

She read everything out loud from the break-up with Chris, to the high points in my relationship with Nick, and then she read the passage Nick had written me, which I had refused to read for the past six months, but now suddenly came at me from the lips of a third party:

"...And even if things don't work out between us, know that I love you, beyond any day to day drama- I love you for your thoughtfulness, your honesty, your warmth, your humor- once in a while you take a step back and think about the people you've been lucky to meet and- yeah- you're good people- I'm so glad to have gotten to know you."

Ah me. Love is a funny, funny thing. It holds hands with bitterness and jealousy, and is a distant cousin of friendship... the kind you only see at family reunions (if you're into that sort of thing). Anyway, enough about that, because history is only one thing.

Point being, Peggy had re-awakened me to the sacredness of my leatherbound journal, which has become for me, an icon of love manifested, lost, and grown into other things. I am so happy to bring it with me to Maui.

My mom is afraid I am making a stupid, rash decision. She is probably right, but I can't help but make it, just like a child can't help when their feet grow, and a recent college graduate can't ignore the cruel realities of this world, and just like I can't help but be awed by all of it... genuinely awed... cripplingly awed.

Selling portraits didn't go as well as planned today. I am pretty rusty, and my performance anxiety got the best of me. I did meet a beautiful group of people today who let me draw all of their portraits, and one girl gave me a pink bracelet she'd brought back from Mexico and tied to my wrist- I am proud to take it with me to Maui, and may it stay with me the way my necklace had, for so many years to remind me of this beautiful time in my life.

My mind is a buzz. Am I really going to an island paradise in three days? My mom is afraid of the post-adventure blues that she thinks I will succumb to when this is all over... but I think after nine months of bunny-killing, going home will be a treat too, provided I do not have to kill bunnies. Because I like Texas, and the people I met there, too.

Babble babble babble. I'm going to take a nap and then celebrate Karen's birthday by dancing around to ragga-dub in a warehouse downtown later tonight.

6/8/2006 - You Know How I said I Was Going to Maui?

2007-06-20T22:41:00.000-04:00

Ok, even I didn't really believe myself.

But I just bought a one-way plane ticket about fifteen minutes ago, so I am. I told myself I would talk to Amanda first and read her vibe, and I finally got a hold of her today.

She told me I could stay in an eagle's nest loft above a waterfall where she lives until this next Sunday, after which I have a place to stay until the 26th in exchange for 8 hours of work per week. Then she said she wasn't sure what she wanted to do today, go kite-sailing with two hot boys or go to a goddess retreat. Delicious.

Bjorn is letting me borrow her camping equipment, should the need arise to use it and there are several listings on the bulletin board at the community center in Maui looking for work/trade workers. So I'm set. I'm going to Maui.

I leave this Tuesday morning... and Amanda is going to pick me up at the airport. This will be an adventure to be reckoned with... I haven't even left this continent. I'll probably be broke by the time I get back... but it won't be the first time this has happened. My mom won't be too happy either... but she's my mom, and she'll love me anyway.

Funny thing: I may have accidentally bought my ticket from San Francisco. Normally this would be a problem, but Mike happens to be leaving for San Francisco on Monday, so I have a ride up there if it's necessary. A little added adventure never hurt anyone.

Why am I writing this all down... probably because I'm so damn excited. A waterfall??? On an island??? I can't even imagine. I'm bringing my guitar and amanda has a recorder. I'm bringing one bag full of stuff (leaving the rest here in L.A. for now, my guitar, my laptop and a tent/sleeping pack.

My mom was worried about the difficulties I may encounter, not having any money and all. It's hard to explain to a mother that these sorts of journeys cultivate the wisdom of experience that is never fully understood when you just take your parent's word for it.

Ah. The weather is beautiful out here, cool and overcast. This weekend will be good for selling portraits on the beach. This is how I always wanted to live my life. It is good.

6/2/2006 - This Crazy Time in Our Lives

2007-06-20T22:22:00.000-04:00

Peggy: "You know, this is a really crazy time in our lives."

Me: "Oh my god! it's the craziest time in our lives! I'm only recently realizing how amazingly free we are... we can go anywhere... we can do anything... and we can take care of ourselves. What an amazing thing to realize."

____________

I am thinking, what is this, some sort of 'coming of age' story? Of course it is.

Will I look back at all of this that I've written, and what will it mean to me, then? I've noticed I write in questions a lot recently. Suddenly, I am okay with that.

Yesterday I sat looking into the shining moonpie face of my neuroscience advisor, watching the joy ooze from his pores as he recounted the day that his daughter called him, to tell him, "Daddy, I just realized something amazing- I just realized that I can go anywhere, and do anything, and that I will be okay, and that I will be able to take care of myself. I can wait tables, I can type letters. I can serve drinks, or rule the country. I can do all of it."

His eyes were shining as he told me, "Her mother and I of course had known this all along, we'd known all along that she was capable of taking care of herself. We'd never worried about that. But to hear it come from her mouth..." The pride radiated from every cell of his being. If I were not so proper, I would have dropped to my knees in awe.

_____________________

I am experiencing something I feel compelled to document... not so much as a personal history but simply because it refuses to be contained. I discussed love and spiritual awakening over boba tea with Karina the other day, recounting with wistful melancholy the circumstances of my recent heartbreak (because everyone always asks why Nick and I no longer talk).

She brought up something that should have been obvious to me, just like my conversation with Nikola had, and my many conversations with Bjorn, and with Kate, and Peggy, and Mike, and Karen and the many other luminescent reasons why I had to come back to L.A.

"If you were still with Nick," she said, "Would you be on this adventure, this crazy journey of yours? Would you be going to Maui? Would you be so free?"

I concluded that I would not. Pondering this later that day, I was looking in the mirror at my face, not so much out of vanity but more to confirm whether or not I was the same person. I pulled on my hemp necklace, the one I had woven at the sime time I'd woven Nick's necklace, and also knitted his guitar strap for his birthday two years ago. It has not come off since.

I turned it around on my neck to look for the knot, where it had been tied and couldn't find it. It was an endless knot of woven strings, all the loose ends had been worn off long ago.

I tugged it closer to the mirror, to get a better look at it... my resilient token of the past... and with a slight pressure on the back of my neck I heard it snap.. and I held it in my hand, this necklace that had been a part of me for two years.

I am a sucker for symbolism.

I smiled to myself, and removed the other two necklaces that I wore around my neck, looking at my naked collarbones, one of them crooked and broken from being hit by a car when I was thirteen.

All of this change. My eyes are wide open and suddenly, all of this change is so beautiful, and so infinite in its possibility. Suddenly I felt all of this love for the sweat on my skin from the too-hot sun, and for the tears on my face. I felt all of this love for the wrinkle on the right corner of my mouth from all the smirking I'd done in my life, and for the thin-ness of the skin under my left eye, where you could see a tiny vein, because I cry too much.

I type this to acknowledge today that this was not the manic ecstacy of a hormonal surge, or an unusually good day, but a turning point- if only symbolic... of emerging from the other side of the jungle.... even if only to immerse myself in yet another.

_____________________

What are mantras?

To me, they are simple little things that we say to ourselves, and to each other- to remind each other about things we already know. A while ago I asked Karen, who is even greater a nomad than myself, what she did when she ran out of money, and options.

"You always have your friends. Your friends are always there for you. Chances are, they have been in the same position as you, and they know that you will help them, when they need it- and when you have the means to help them."

I remember when Alexia said to me with a laugh, that "Life is a problem. That's all it is! I have faith that you will solve it."

And talking to Amanda about Maui, and about going there, with no prospect for a job, or a place to live, or a goal, or purpose- other than adventure:

"Just listen to what your heart tells you to do. If you heart tells you to come to Maui, just come, and come without fear of uncertainty."

Bjorn has reminded me, always, of what true responsibility is. I worry so much about being responsible, and doing the right thing. The night I quit my job, and bought my plane ticket to L.A., she had told me:

"Your first and foremost priority, your biggest responsibility is your responsibility to yourself. You have to take care of yourself, because this world is cruel and will not take care of you. Responsibility is taking care of yourself."

Carl has given me too many -isms to document all of them. But I will always remember recieving a text message from him, while looking at birds at the zoo, the day after I quit:

"I am so proud of you, and your strength and resilience".

If not for my writing this now, with glistening eyes, he may never have known how much that statement will always mean to me.

The capacity of a human being to love another, to feel pride for and to care for them- the capacity we have to become a family, or to connect- if only briefly- is a phenomenon to be reckoned with. There is a godliness to that wisdom shared, and that connection. There is a universality that is illuminated when all of the light in the cosmos shines from our eyes during these moments of realization.

__________________

"To be left alone on the tightrope of youthful un-knowing is to experience the excruciating beauty of full freedom and the threat of eternal indecision. Few, if any, survive their teens. Most surrender to the vague but murderous pressure of adult conformity. It becomes easier to die and avoid conflicts than maintain a constant battle with the superior forces of maturity.

Until recently each generation found it more expedient to plead guilty to the charge of being young and ignorant, easier to take the punishment meted out by the older generation (which had itself confessed to the same crime short years before). The command to grow up at once was more bearable than the faceless horror of wavering purpose, which was youth.

The bright hours when the young rebelled against the descending sun had to give away to twenty-four-hour periods called 'days' that were named as well as numbered.

The Black female assaulted in her tender years by all those common forces of nature at the same time that she is caught in the tripartite crossfire of masculine prejudice, white illogical hate and Black lack of power.

The fact that the adult American Negro female emerges a formidable character is often met with amazement, distaste and even belligerence. It is seldom accepted as an inevitable outcome of the struggle won by survivors and deserves respect if not enthusiastic acceptance."

- Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

5/31/2006 - Fuck It, I'm Going to Maui

2007-06-20T22:21:00.001-04:00

I have been feeling torn between my responsibility to my 2 unit class and my hunger for adventure and wandering.

Just yesterday I passed up the opportunity to hitch a ride to Seattle and hang out with Greg, but that was for a few reasons, mostly circumstantial. I finally got a chance to talk to my CIA (Companion in Adventure), Amanda and she's convinced that I HAVE to go experience what she's experiencing in Maui, and that I would appreciate it so much. I trust her judgment. we have been CIAs for a long time.

It costs only $150 for a one-way ticket to Maui from Los Angeles. Amanda spends $60/week there, all of which she earns during the week doing various tasks like gardening, or house-painting. She is supposed to call me back in a few hours, because she needs to talk to her friend, Dream (yes. her name is Dream) about having me for a roommate.

What is she doing there? Learning the art of Tantric Living. Eating fresh fruit off of trees. Gardening and playing in the ocean and in caves, dancing under the moonlight. I need to go. I can feel the pull.

Oi vey, but what about this summer class? What about the part-time job, and paying rent, and responsibility? How about that?

I run it by my good friend, Nikola Atanasov, my favorite Macedonian. Nikola is living his dream. He plays flute with unequivocable passion. He is now first chair flute for the Beijing National Orchestra, being paid well, and happier than ever living this great adventure of his.

I tell him about the class, and about my trying to be responsible and finishing my degree. This is what he tells me:

"Well, not that you should or will listen to me absolutely- but I would have no difficulty about picking maui and sailing and doing some tantra...those dont come up so often in life. School you can always go back to."

I bitch and moan a bit. It's only 2 units. TWO units seperating me from my neuroscience degree! and then he tells me that it is the same with him; Nikola still needs 3 units to graduate, as well. he has not officially graduated yet. He laughs about it and says it's a good excuse to get his student visa and come back to the states when he's ready to. I ask him,

Me: "Well what do you think I should do?'

Nikola: "What do you think I think? I'm not there, am I? I saw something better and I took it."

He's totally right. I can't put my life on hold for a class. The class can be put on hold for my life.

Here is a plan: I fly to Maui and learn Tantra with Amanda. And live with Dream. In August, we will return to the mainland by sailboat and found the Worldwide Gypsy Network (Amanda's idea... something about castles in Peru and Thailand). not sure about the WWGN... but the Tantra, and fresh fruit and ocean and sailboat sound great.

So fuck it, I'm going to Maui.

5/30/2007 - Personal Growth, or Sunstroke?

2007-06-20T22:19:00.000-04:00

Something's gotta give. I've decided it's going to be me, and I'm going to do it with all the determination it requires! The last time I felt like this was when I decided to major in neuroscience, not only for my love of it, but to prove to myself that I could do it, that I was capable enough, and intelligent enough to double major in disparate fields.

Now, at the tail end of the chaos that is my higher education, I've decided to tackle this last class with all the passion I had when I took my first neuroscience class. Even if it is just a two unit statistics requirement, and even though I have already been working in the field for over a year.

Today I had to make a difficult decision: choosing between two good things. Showing the Catfish Whiskey boys around Los Angeles was a blast- I stood in the Pacific Ocean as the sun was setting and let the waves crash against my legs and wet the hem of my dress. I wet my hair with the water and let the salt encrust itself in it, making it stand on end as if I were a crazed beast emerged from the sea.

Kate graciously offered her porch to them for a night's rest... and what a porch it was. a huge porch overlooking all of Los Angeles, wide and green under the Hollywood sign. We cooked a deliciously spicy curry and laughed and talked. It was good to see those crazy Texans again.

Their tour leads them up through Seattle, and I was asked if I wanted to come along. I had to think hard about it. My heart wanted to continue wandering, and the thought of riding in a big giant blue bus with a bunch of rowdy Texan hippies up to Santa Cruz and San Francisco, through Oregon and meeting up with Greg in Seattle to pitch a tent among mountains and brew coffee in Twisp was so tempting. It sounded like an adventure to me, and I quite seriously considered packing up my few belongings an hopping onto the bus right then, off to who-knows-where.

I often think about the paths I have chosen not to take. I suppose this will be one of them. Because as much as I love to run off on an adventure, I have found my love, and my love is this book. I would like to go to grad school and work on the book as soon as possible. And in order to do that I need to finish school and officially get my degree.

I spent the day sitting under the sun and sweating everything negative out of my pores. I feel cleansed now, as if I know exactly what I need to do. There was so much indecision inside of me. I feel suddenly awake, and ready to focus. I feel a sense of responsibility, without feeling a sense of old-ness. I have a purpose, and it is a good purpose.

I'm ready.

5/20/2006 - Bathroom Synchronicity and Other Unmentionables

2007-06-20T22:13:00.002-04:00

So I just came back from the bathroom just now (coffee is a diuretic) and as I was sitting there not thinking about a whole lot in particular, I noticed a copy of Stephen Hawking's Brief History of Time was sitting next to me.

The pages had been opened to (in this particular edition) page 145 and I read the following:

"The increase of disorder or entropy with time is one example of what is called the arrow of time, something that distinguishes the past from the future, giving a direction to time. There are at least three different arrows of time. First, there is the thermodynamic arrow of time, the direction of time in which disorder or entropy increases. Then, there is the psychological arrow of time. This is the direction in which we feel time passes, the direction in which we remember the past but not the future. Finally, there is the cosmological arrow of time. This is the direction of time in which the universe is expanding rather than contracting. "

I thought this was interesting, particularly because a few hours earlier I'd read a passage to Bjorn from one of the editorial collections I'm reading that struck me:

"Theology goes a long way toward imbuing substance and processes with meaning- describing life as "matter reaching toward divinity," or as the process by which divinity calls matter back to itself. But theologians mistakenly ascribe this sense of purpose to history rather than to the future. This is only natural, since the narrative structures we use to understand our world tend to have beginnings, middles, and ends. In order to experience the payoff at the end of the story, we need to see it as somehow built into the original intention of events.

It's also hard for people to contend with the likely possibility that we are simply overadvanced fungi and bacteria hurtling through the galaxy in cold, meaningless space. But just because our existence may have arisen unintentionally and without purpose doesn't preclude meaning or purpose from emerging as a result of our interaction and collaboration. Meaning may not be a pre-condition for humanity as much as a by-product of it.

It's important to recognize that evolution at its best is a team sport. As Darwin's later, lesser known but more important works contend, survival of the fittest is a law that applies mot as much to individuals as to groups. Likewise, most great leaps forward in human civilization, from the formation of clans to the building of cities, have been feats of collaborative effort. Increased survival rates are as much a happy side effect of good collaboration as its purpose.

If we could stop thinking of 'meaning' and 'purpose' as artifacts of some divine creative act and see them instead as the yield of our own creative future, they become goals, intentions, and processes very much in reach rather than the shadows of child-like, superstitious mythology."

- Douglas Rushkoff

________________

Anyway. I've been thinking about time manipulation a lot lately. The older I get the less strange it seems. Recurrent themes in the past few weeks:

the role of mythology in constructing our personal beliefs, purposes and journeys

the flexiblility of psychological time-space

the role and mechanisms of sex hormones in determining thought pattern frequencies (gotta look up studies on this... been interested in it for a while)

thinking about what words mean and then what words 'mean'. (e.g.- 'depressed' and 'history'... i am realizing that to be depressed does not equate feeling sad, nor does it need to be considered pathological... sometimes one merely feels 'pressed down and sluggish'.)

something I keep reading a lot lately, and that a few people have said to me in one way or another- and also something I have said to many people- Alexia said to me yeserday: "Life is a problem, that's all it is!" But she said it in such a joyous way. Like she couldn't wait to solve it. It made me realize that it's all about delivery, really. If you carry your cross like it's a feather it doesn't seem so burdensome anymore. If you learn to enjoy hiking you don't mind climbing that crazy mountain called life.

Hours and hours spent on the book. Sometimes a let a tear or two go reading writing. You people really touch my heart sometimes.

5/16/2006 - Analog to Digital

2007-06-20T22:13:00.001-04:00

It's been a long time since I've written in a bound journal, and I am interested to see what sort of difference this will make as far as writing goes.

This is how it all started. Thoughts are viscous and fluid when they are flowing from the ink of a pen. There is a natural beginning and end to it as my fingers fatigue and the page runs out of space. When was the last time I really "wrote"?

It may just be the delirium produced by sitting in the sun all day... but my handwriting is dancing for me in a way that type-written work never could. I was saying to Karen earlier that we'd come full circle. I have been at the mercy of circumstance for the past few days; I've resigned myself not to the meticulous planning and execution of my own intentions, but rather to the intentions of hands that lead me- to the intentions of the hands of fate, and to the heartbeat and pulse of this city.

Finally (almost), I am learning to embrace change, and to fall and rise with it while still keeping my head more or less straight. Today I listened to people talk and asked a lot of questions. it is so beautiful to swim around in other people's minds. What mysteries.... what uncharted territory. I feel like a scientist venturing to wonder at the composition of the cosmos.

What are you, stranger? You are a delicacy fit for a king.

I have made a multitude of definitive statements lately, as in, "Listen here sir, this is this." It seemed to work for a long time as if that was where I needed to be right then. I am often in the habit of thinking in place, watching all other thoughts float by. Now I am reaching out into the world with a question mark in my hand and the thoughts are washing me free like warm water, or cold air. I want to listen more, I am liking being a listener. There is so much noise here and I want to listen to all of it. L.A. is a good place to be a listener because it is so full of voices dying to be heard.

There is so much purity and simplicity in our intentions. The overgrowth of confused motivations makes that difficult to see sometimes. We all want to touch and be touched in one way or another.

There are always two sides to me. I feel as if on the outside I seem conflicted and confused. I have done very little to indicate otherwise. On the other side of things though, I have never felt so much clarity in my life- I see a clear cut direction taking me on a journey of endless fulfillment. Shall I venture to say that this is my dream, and I am living it? Shall I venture to conclude that I feel a sense of purpose, and I can almost touch it?

5/14/2006 - Fate, Balance, Happenstance

2007-06-20T22:11:00.000-04:00

tricked you. you thought this post was going to be 'deep', didn't you?

I am laughing in bemusement at the fact that I spent about an hour meticulously articulating my thoughts in a blog yesterday to explain what's been going through my head. It had to do with things like the things named in the title of this one. It was totally 'deep'.

Where is it, you say? That is a good question. I must have not clicked 'post'. So it has been transformed from non-matter into non-matter along with all the other digital trash. Can we be wasteful with our cyber space? Where are all the time-space fills? I would like to go dumpster diving in all the digital trash. I might find years of writing there. And then what.

It has been strange here, but I guess it always is. L.A. always leaves your stomach slightly upset, and puts your soul's energy slightly off balance, so you feel like you have to sort of stumble around like a fool, to keep that marble on top of that chopstick (you catch my drift?)

The nice part is the momentum and the energy of it. The hard part is the creeping notion in the back of your skull that you're a dancing dog in a tutu at a circus with many players, but no audience.

That metaphor was certainly exaggerated. I exaggerate a lot when I am here.

Last night I watched a homeless man selling flowers in downtown L.A. get shoved in front of a moving car by the bouncer in front of an art gallery full of 'hip, urban artists' (majority origin: middle-class suburbia and comfortable upbringing). I was at the Hive Gallery watching my friend Christopher Robin, who lives there, do some live painting. There was a scuffle and a lot of commotion and a pretty little white girl tried to stop the fighting between these two large angry Black men.

I didn't want to come to any conclusions about it, or think about Truth. I just wanted to leave, so I did. Mike's Droogmobile broke down about a block from where we parked. Zombie Jon took me to Adam's where I arm-swilled a handle of Jim Beam all night before taking a valium and passing out. I don't know if this is productive or not. I'm pretty sure it's not.

Today I'm hitching a ride to Venice Beach to wander around in solitude. Now I feel like it's been a while since I've been alone. I am frustrating myself trying to find a balance between solitude and socialization. Trying to find a balance. Trying to build a balance. I think Austin will be good for me. It's very hard to be/want to be alone in this city.

Don't get me wrong, I love L.A., and I love to see my friends and spend time with them. They are the most wonderful, mythological creatures. This is a wonderful, mythological place.

But I have this habit, wherever I am, of wanting to be somewhere else. To go go go

I can't tell if it's pathological or not, or if I'm just young and confused. I'm also not sure what the difference is. Anyway I should go. I have this old friend to visit, it's name is the Ocean.

5/9/2006 - Not Quite Awake

2007-06-20T22:09:00.000-04:00

I haven't been here 24 hours yet and I feel like I'm dreaming.

I keep trying to explain to myself how I feel but it's far, far too overwhelming to put into words this early on. I won't really try, all I'll say is I can't stop smiling.

And it's not even that a whole lot has changed in my head, even though (pretty much overnight) everything, EVERYTHING has changed in my life. Bjorn picked me up from the airport and we rolled a spliff and drove around L.A. in his white convertible at 2 in the morning. We went from the airport up north through Venice Beach and santa monica, and then across through hollywood, through koreatown and thai town, echo park and silverlake and ended up at a ramen place in little tokyo around 4 in the morning, eating noodles and catching up. I love that there is always something to do, even at four in the morning.

I have not been away so long that the place feels unfamiliar. Driving through the city I can still give directions and point out good places to eat and shop. Everything looks and smells the same, familiar. I thought it would be hard to come back to my old house (memories of the ex), but it's just different enough to fend off memories, just the same enough to still feel like home. I love the smell of this house. I'm sitting on my old bed (now Bjorn's) in my old room (also now Bjorn's... she owned it first!) as I type this. This room has the best energy of any place in the world. It's the only place I have ever felt at home.

I said hello to the palm trees and the ocean. L.A. still smells bad and is noisy, and I still love all of it. I had a very strong feeling, smoking a cigarette on the porch, that I had never even left. There are new plants on the porch, Sonya has been taking good care of them- there are new cacti and flowers. My old bamboo windchimes and wooden twirly things are still hanging from the roof. My paintings are up around the house, and my old furniture and other little remnants from when I lived here. Chin-Chin, my kitten is now the House Cat and not a kitten at all anymore, but a chubby, happy beautiful creature with the same bitchin' personality. His alter-ego is Ninja Fur. Don't cross the Ninja Fur.

It feels SO GOOD to be home. God. I can't even explain.

Breakfast this morning at the Pantry with Chrisrobin and Bjorn. I couldn't stop smiling. I was close to catatonic with appreciation. The pancakes were delicious as usual and the post-Pantry condition will probably have me farting all day but it was worth it. So freaking happy to see old friends.

I feel lucky to stay in my old house. Even though many things have changed since I've left it helps me to feel grounded for the first time in a very very very long time. Tonight I hang out with Toben at the Cinespace to see Pony Up, the band he is making a music video for right now. I will be helping with puppeteering! Saturday I get to do some live mural painting with Chrisrobin and Mike at the Hive. Late this week I hope to meet up with Katie to discuss journalistic things, definitive literature on our generation and catching up with old friends. I've got a lot of people to catch up with.. I can't wait! Bjorn was right when she said today that "You don't make things happen in L.A., things happen to you in L.A."

I've gotten a few "What are you doing here?"'s so far and replied with a few "I don't know"'s already. This will probably continue to happen, and that's okay too. Bjorn says I'm a nomad and I guess she's right. Well that's about it for now. This is my first blog ever written in California! Neat. see this is why I never blogged here. Just too much.

5/5/2005 - How Do I Say How I Feel

2007-06-20T22:08:00.000-04:00

I am engorged.
I am a cup overflowing.
A cornucopia of nonsense.
I am swollen with fear.

What am I doing?
Where am I going?
What am I seeing?
Who am I being?

My life is an open ended question, and I have the answer inside me somewhere, if only I could find it.

It occurred to me that I am not motivated by the pursuit of happiness but by a desire for fulfillment. I have come to realize that the two are not one in the same. This is why they are two different words.

I am being led into unknown territory by an invisible leash pulled by an unknown force.
I don't like to call it God.
I don't even like to call it a Concept.

I was listening to a story on NPR about Laney who finds her calling.

"I know what I'm going to do!"
"What is that?"
"I'm going to play the drums!"
"The drums? How did this come about?"
"I don't know, I was in the music store, and I saw them, and they were beautiful and shining at me, and red, and I realized, I am a drummer, this is my purpose in life"
"But where are you going to get drums?"
"I don't know!"
"How are you going to afford them?"
"I don't know!"
"How are you going to learn them?"
"I don't know!"
"What are you going to do, then?"
"I don't know! I don't know! All I know is I am (insert many drummers' names here), I have it inside me, and I am a rockstar!"

At this time I'm realizing I am being silly because tears are welling but not falling and I feel my heart become full and lift itself up in my chest, pulling again against some unknown force (neither God nor Concept). I am driving home and I feel its pull, and I am wondering where it is in such a hurry to go.

The tension drives me mad, and the tears threaten to form. I am changing lanes and trying to function as an element of the Highway Machine, but find it impossible to focus. Don't they know that my heart is trying to fly away, even as it is tethered to an anchor, and that the anchor is somewhere inside me? Don't they know how terribly distracting it is?

The story on the radio has switched gears and a woman with a Jewish accent is going on about the show Roseanne and she is slightly annoying, talking about scriptwriting and Mel Brooks. The pull starts to fade.

I am left with the words echoing in my head. Recycling back, periodically pulling. Periodically lifting me up to tiptoe on the convex layer of oxygen molecules that hold together what would otherwise be an unapologetic outpouring of atoms. I am doing this consciously. Bringing myself to the brink.

"What are you doing?"
"I don't know!"
"Where are you going?"
"I don't know!"
"Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know where I am going, or why I am doing this. I don't know what is right and wrong. I don't know how to go about it. But this is me. This is me. This is ME."

I think about it over and over again. About the joy and terror of replying "I don't know" and the overwhelming right-ness of it. I step out of my car and lock the door. I walk toward my apartment and think about how this is the last day I will be at my apartment. I think about last night and saying goodbye and my last weekly Thursday seeing Keegan's band play- one of the few rituals in my life. I think about how much more you appreciate people, and places and experiences when you experience them for the last time.

I think about how I was sad when I turned ten, because I would no longer have a one digit age.

I think about crying when I graduated the fifth grade, knowing I would never be 10 and in elementary school, and reading Tom Sawyer under my desk while the teacher talked. How I would never see so-and-so again and how I would forget their name some day.

I am so very sensitive about things. I always remember feeling silly about it. About being sad and crying. But as I let two tears run down my face as I am walking to my apartment door I am not really feeling silly or sad; instead I am understanding something a little better about myself because I feel so strong, even though I am shaking and almost crying, and truly terrified. I feel a strength unparalleled. I feel a push, even as my heart pulls.

I realize I love this fullness I am feeling. I love that I can feel it. I love it's touch, and the invisible leash and my intangible force. It is beyond me. I love it so much I can barely contain it.

I'm One Too

the destructive power of positive thinking

mom love

logic and magic

7/11/07 - Compulsion

7/7/07 - Touch and Spill

7/1/07 - A DJ Progress Report

7/1/07 - Restless

6/22/07 - Get By With a Little Help

6/20/07 - Under Breath Laugh-Rant

6/12/07 - Patience in Playing the Game

6/6/07 - This Tether Life

5/21/07 - Self-Teachings

5/16/07 - Response Letter

5/14/07 - Running

5/4/07 - Loch ness Monster, You're the Greatest!

4/17/07 - (Really) Random Thoughts

4/9/07 - Re-

3/30/07 - Morning Musings on Flatulence and Love

3/27/07 - you Know How You Know You Stepped on Glass?

3/22/07 - (Technics SL1200 MK3D) x2 = shit's about to go DOWN

3/21/2007 - Stepping In Your Sleep

3/12/2007 - resonant brain splatter

3/7/07 - R.I.P., Canon PowerShot 3.2 megapixel digicam

3/6/07 - Nightmare Vision

3/4/07 - Quoted as an Expert

2/27/07 - Today on "Post-Graduate Anxious Rantings"

2/23/07 - "I Know It's a Slang Word for Vagina.... Twice..."

2/15/07 - Dust It off, Keep It Swingin'

2/14/07 - Here We Go.... Again...

2/12/07 - A**holes and Angels

2/1//07 - A Moment of Clarity - Letter to Amanda

2/8/07 - Sometimes, the World She Spins Sideways

2/5/07 - What's the Worst That Could Happen?

1/30/07 - *yawn*

1/22/07 - .love.heart.ear.mouth.heart.love.

1/18/07 - Weren't You Afraid?

1/14/07 - A Hypothetical Interaction

1/13/07 - You Want to Move It Move It?

1/06/07 - El Ano Fuerte

12/27/06 - better*

12/18/06 - ?

12/13/06 - A Week in the Life of Jo 2.0

12/4/06 - Best Birthday Ever (Photoblog)

11/23/06 - Untimely Meditation

11/19/06 - The Magic of the Necessary Words

11/18/06 - SAD stands for seasonal affective disorder

11/16/06 - Look Away.

11/08/06 - Rambling Stream

11/05/06 - Cup Overflow

10/29/06 - Nightmare.

10/26/06 - What If Everybody in the Stock Market Meditated?

10/11/06 - Beautiful New England

10/8/06 - The Best Thing

10/06/06 - Buying Islands and Dinner with the Ex

10/05/2006 - Hamster in a Manster Cage

09/22/06 - One Year Later

9/15/06 - What Dreams May Come

9/05/06 - Like Describing Colors To A Blind Person

8/27/06 - The Obligatory Burning Man Post

8/25/06 - I Guess It's Time.

8/18/06 - I Fall Over Horizontal Now.

8/7/06 - The Good Work

7/27/06 - My Life Since May

7/20/06 - Maui Flux

7/15/07 - On How Things Could Possibly Be More perfect

7/07/06 - Some Day I Will Write About All of This

7/01/06 - Tomorrow's Ritual

6/29/2006 - This Island Life

6/28/06 - Brazilian Shamans

6/20/06 - Heading West Until East

6/17/06 - Maui Diary Entry 3

6/14/06 - First Day in Maui

2003 - Unbound

6/12/2006 - 32 hours

6/10/2006 - 2.5 Days Until Maui

6/8/2006 - You Know How I said I Was Going to Maui?

6/2/2006 - This Crazy Time in Our Lives

5/31/2006 - Fuck It, I'm Going to Maui

5/30/2007 - Personal Growth, or Sunstroke?

1/30/07 - yawn