Saturday, March 30, 2002
Well! I have been informed by friends that it is improper to have a web log and NOT update regularly. My feeling is that my life may not be very interesting. Apparently many folks write random freakish stuff. I admitted today that I have a tendency to overhear (on purpose, as I regularly eavesdrop) conversations random strangers are engaging in. I figure, if I'm speaking in public spaces, I will likely be overheard as well.
Anyway, I didn't know I had a reader or two. I did not know anyone was checking me. Nice to know, though. I'll keep up.
Today was moving day for Alisha. I got to read on the floor due to a bad back. It was very pleasant, the cable guy came and went (leaving her with more channels than she knows what to do with) and I finished my book. Her friends are amazing, she's been friends with Jenny since they were ten years old. Jenny's fiance Joe is really fun too (in a lovely twist, he is taking her last name when they marry, which I love), but both are amazingly sneezy around pets, meaning they cannot sleep over at my house ever, which is the most fun since I talk into the night telling spookily spooky ghost stories. Last night we had dinner at Tower Cafe, and we got yelled at for using the wrong exit. Screw that. I walk confidently, and if no one stops me, and no alarms go off, then I'm walking through. I went to see Monsoon Wedding with some other friends who didn't go to dinner with us. I highly recommend this film, by the way. I cried twice, always a bonified winner (except for Practical Magic, which I watched when I was on Paxil as soon as it came out on video and that made me cry a lot though truly it's a terrible movie in so many other ways. Still, it was the first one I ever bought) It was just as well that Tower yelled, fitting ending to the bad service we endured; I've never had such a yummy yet unpleasant dinner with such fabulous company. Somehow it was satisfying, proving once again, company is more important than anything else.
tonight, we hit Jack's Urban Eats after moving and taking pictures of our feet with Jenny's new digital camera. I think we are foot twins. Only she is petite. I have the mama foot, she has the adolescent foot. Then we went for Ice Cream at Gunther's, where my banana was the talk of the town. and where I heard a woman practically shouting "and I said 'you ruined my g-string, and now you have to work hard to regain my trust'" and other kooky things she said escape me, but we managed to overhear quite a bit. We left as jenny saw another woman fondle her own bosom at the table opposite us. I missed that, however, luckily, Jenny demonstrated.
I made poor sleepy Alisha drive her saffron colored volvo thru the streets of Curtis Park, where I'd have purchased a home and would have had a toddler if I had married ickrick. We looked at the big houses and the bigger houses. Apparently these are still fabulous deals compared to the Bay Area. I still would rather live in Portland, OR. But then, I'd miss California. I ran into an acquaintance from graduate school who appeared to completely NOT remember me, a thing I find disturbingly strange. My friend pointed out they thought he was gay, excusing him from remembering me. Still, he called me by the wrong name and said "oh, you changed your hair?" This was someone I've had lunch with and studied with. I am NOT that forgetable by any means. I mean, REALLY. Sheesh. Luckily, his name is Kent, a name than will be raised to infamy, considering the many times I will work it into a joke, now.
We also drove by a haunted house inhabited currently by my new favorite hair salon. I'm getting highlights on 4/18, I'm going to let Jeana go WILD on my little blond chunked bob. the haunted house houses an old man with a smallish german shepherd. The receptionist has heard people following her on the hard wood floors when she opens the salon on some mornings. They were rather unhappy with the fact that the ghost is an unfriendly perverted old man with a dog. I was sorry I said anything, and my haircut came out great. I left a nice tip. I'll buy some shampoo next time.
So, I love my friends. This being said, I am rather dreading Easter Brunch with my family tomorrow. It's all about waffles and eggs and chocolate, and my wicked little sister will be there, ignoring me or rolling her eyes in judgmental ways. I will do my best to ignore her right back. Sigh. It's never going to work though, I'm far too sensitive. Tonight I will drink some red wine and hopefully end up with a nifty little headache so I can go home early. Hopefully, mis padres will let me do some laundry before I leave! Je les aime tres beaucoup.
Tuesday, March 26, 2002
Not understanding why, I still haven't been to the store for more coffee. I generally shop Trader Joe's. I may need to take some serious time off to go tomorrow.
Am covered in bruises all over my legs. Not pretty. It's fitting that brutal and bruises have the same prefix. Mine look like I fought in a war. Not from any odd painful impacts, but possibly from anemia. Amelie is anemic. Lovely.
I really wish that people would stop using my lack of boundaries for their own personal agendas. Only after the fact do I realize how much advantage has been taken of me. I'm rational, but not equipped for personal questions posed me that challenge my own personal needs and make me question my own interests when I'm not allowed to have them in a given situation. I cannot stand it, my heart gets bruised so easily and then sort of scars over with these strata like tendons that keep it from falling apart. Or maybe that's my mind. Something keeps it from shattering. The thing is, it's hard to give advice to people you care about, because you have your own needs that aren't ever going to be met by them, and no matter how unbiased you want to appear, it's there and if they ignore it, you feel like shit and try harder to please them. I don't like to feel like shit. I should just stop talking to people who make me feel like my soul has been carved out. They don't really care about me as a person. Not really.
My family, however, I cannot get rid of. I'm stuck. And without morning coffee, my family is too much for me to bear.
There are gypsy moths flying around my house. I wonder what box of crackers they emerged from? Not that it matters, all of them have to be trashed now. I hope there's another name for them, gypsy sounds so derogatory. I always think about how moths emerge from their pupae without mouths. They are desperate mating machines, built for sex and egg laying, and then they curl up and die once that frenetic dance is done. Not like butterflies, those have tongues, and they live nearly a year after they've emerged. Moths are ephemeral. And the moth to a flame is so true. An auntie of mine, who was put in an insane asylum tragically by her horrible playboy husband in the 1920's, and who was finally released after he died in the 1950's, died because of a motel fire. She had one lit candle, and as it must've guttered in the window of her cheap motel room, I can imagine, while she drank to forget everything that had ever been done to her, a moth probably hit the flame, shot up, and caught the curtains on fire. It was chicago, summer, and I imagine she wore a little white slip. On a hanger, a navy suit with cream piping and a little pillbox hat and gloves on the bureau. She didn't have much at all, but she had been a model for post cards in illinois, pre-pin up. She was once a beautiful buxom slavic girl raised on a farm in Fargo. I always think of My Antonia. I wonder if she watched the place burn through dowsy eyed depression. She lived to be pulled out and scarred and miserable, and she said she was like a moth in a flame, and that was what had started the fire. My grandma still said my great aunt helen had gone mad. I think she had just gone sad. I wonder if she's in the gypsy moths that plague my baked goods.
Monday, March 25, 2002
I ran out of coffee. It's Monday. I wonder if that is the worst omen to start the week that there is? I pull out my Earl Grey, heat up the water past boiling, and steep a steaming cup.
My life was overly relaxed this weekend, I am considering travel again once I figure out how much money it will require. In a sad way I'm almost hoping for more airline attacks (well, not full fledged ones, just scares) so that the airline ticket prices stay low. I can go to Paris. Ah, Bon!
Or Curitiba, Brazil. A place I tell everyone to go to and have never been. But someday, someday.
I can hear my roommate and her boyfriend in her room. She's home from a weekend at Pismo Beach, must be nice. They are laughing. I miss waking up and laughing with someone. Ah well. Celibacy, I've done it before. It must build character or something.
This tea is definitely not right. Coffee is the only proper breakfast for a Hard Working Grrl like me.
Thursday, March 14, 2002
Hmmm....this morning almost didn't happen. I often go to bed with the mantra of things I have to do in the morning. I went to bed with "Blood Test...Physical Therapy...Don't Eat". The night before I went to bed with "Go to Jails...Bring paperwork...Look Professional". I'm sure the night before that was a little less stressful, it was probably "Get Up. Shower." or something like that.
But I almost forgot NOT to eat this morning. And I almost completely forgot to go to Kaiser for my exam. I totally forgot the chiropractor on Monday afternoon (if it's not a morning thing, it's just not in my head).
I wonder if it's actually a good thing that I don't have children? I'd remember them, I think, but would they get regular baths??? My dog does, but dog baths are 2X/month. People baths are quite a bit more frequently.
in September were for a canceled October show (cursed 9/11!), and I broke up with my paramour before I could convince him to buy me something else. I bought my own for April, and I'm going. With at least 3 other people, and no boyfriend trying to cuddle on the sad songs. I'm not sure if I'm happy or sad about it. But what I do know is, I'm on the floor in front, and that will be fantastic.
So, I managed to carry my lunch into work with me, a drowsy veggie burrito (aburrido in spanish means "heavy" and "boring" whereas "burrito" means a little burro, and I'm not quite sure what sort of thing the food is named after), but I spilled a large soda opening a door (with my hands full, no less) for my very capable and pregnant coworker Marilyn, who brought me a trash can for my ice and my napkins. One whole soda. It must be god's way of saying "don't drink that crap, you are already going to eat a burrito for pete's sake---because do you think god can take god's own name in vain?---so chuck it and quit whining". And it all turned out okay, my boss gave me a nice tall cup of hot coffee. Because he adores me. I love my kind, sociable, endearing, funny, gay and proud of it, boss. He's lovely.
Wednesday, March 13, 2002
Got to meet some cool women from Berlin tonight, Elke and Silke. One is studying social work, the other concept marketing. They were pretty convinced that I was annoying. I wanted to learn as many bad words in German as possible. I only know Bitta and Tag, because I am polite, but I still wante to know how to insult people (just in case). I found out that Blixa Bargeld means Fantasy Funds. I also found out that Elke worked in an orphanage for years and years. She has a Tibetan spaniel, I think they are silly looking. Silke had the coolest jeans on. I was jealous, until I realized they were 501s, which don't fit my hips at all. We talked about Fast Food Nation, they've read it (in English), and are sad we eat so much CRAP in America. I said "you are right" and ate my rice a roni and my reeses peanut butter cup ice cream because Erica made dinner, and she can't cook. Her best friend Tanya was also in attendance with her baby named Brooklyn, who I have renamed. He is now known as Rebar. Erica calls him an It and The Creature. I am scared, because I find myself calling it that as well, it's very easy to fall into baby hating even when you like the little boogers.
My morning was nuts. I had to drive out to the Jails to be a character witness. I was good. I think I got my client out of jail. It also helped that his accusers did not show, pretty sorry since they made claims that put him into custody for nearly 2 months! That sucks. Especially since he wasn't taking his medications while he was there, so he will probably come out of jail with a resistant HIV. I found out from his UCD doc that the jails in California are notorious for punishing clients by not giving them their HIV meds or their medications for pain, which are necesary sometimes to even TOLERATE the HIV meds. Ugh. I am glad I have no killer virus or any other disease that is barely managed by modern medicine. I would hate to be reliant on others for my care.
The sky was sooo blue. And I saw a baby cow on the way to the jail. It was honey colored and was hopping around on the grass. There's something about carefree joy that always makes me so happy I can stay that way throughout the day.
Monday, March 11, 2002
Spent hours with my newest friend, Alisha on Saturday looking for apartments. She needs to move end of the month, but the reality is bleak. Very few apartments, for way too much money as far as I'm concerned. For a long time I was glad Bay Area kids were moving back here, I thought they'd bring some culture, but they are too used to high real estate prices and they are GLAD to settle for a dumpy place at $800/month. We've seen increase jumps as much as 200-300%. Crappy studios that went for $250-295 as recently as 3 years ago have gone up to a minimum of $750 per month. Sadly, we didn't find anything too cheerful, but two apartments of the bunch looked promising, and she will see her favorite soon. I hope she gets it. She's from SF.
Spent the evening with a pile of friends traipsing around Sacramento's flourishing art scene. I love my very talkative and hysterical friend Julie (from VA, PA, MN, AZ and NV respectively) and my roommate Susannah. We made a kooky threesome. I always forget about Second Saturday, and we hit 4 galleries. One, an acquaintance we all seem to share, showed out off Arden. I never liked him, but now that I've seen his tractor paintings, I'm a bit more impressed. He has an eye. I don't like his pictures of women. I can almost tell he thinks we are objects. I adore his on again off again girlfriend, and he has good taste in wine. That's about it for him. I had 4 sex dreams about them, all of them left me feeling sick.
Sunday I did chores and laundry (finally). I know I need glasses because I was to meet up with my friend Phil (who moved here in April after his dotcom exploded in his face---now he buys pallets of books from Tower Books and sells them online for a tidy net of approximately 2.5K/month) at the laundr-o-mat and yelled out to some short haired guy "I'm right here!" about 3 minutes before Phil actually sat down next to me. He cracks me up, is absolutely clever and polite and interesting, but I can't help but feel he is attempting the Grand Seduction, which is why I only spend time with him in the daylight hours if it can at all be helped. I was left hysterically laughing when he talked about how he roller blades his 30 year old spine through the flat grid of Sacto. He said "I've been given a new name." He gets yelled at by 15year olds on skateboards who never seem to hurt themselves when they fly backwards over tree roots, and call him a FrootBooter (when he's on the other side of the street) and a FootBooter (when he's on the same side). They never expect him to stop and talk and know anything about boards of any kind. Boys are dumb. They babble with each other, they start thinking Phil is not so bad, but Phil's funny, and when he leaves, he says "ta ta, WoodPushers" mainly because he can go so much faster than them and mainly because they suddenly sort of like him and are left wondering what to do. I've seen it happen, it's hilarious. It has nothing to do with disrespect, he can skate either way, he just likes to practice for his hockey league. Sacramento, with it's lack of hills and its famously broad staired state buildings, is a natural draw for the wheeled folk. They flock and frolic and call out obnoxious things to me while I walk seamas around the abandoned wasteland of the weekend State of the State. The corners are dulled, they are stripped with black, worn away by scrapings, and they are looking sad, but still the skateboarders come to jump and do other formidable tricks on these stairs. It's amazing that I was ever hopelessly devoted to one of their number.
Erica came over for nachos last night and brought me a dog training manual and a clicker. I'm going to clicker train Seamas. It's based on positive reinsforcement and cueing. I think he'd be great at it. I think we will use him in our public access movie that we are making this summer. I adore Erica, glad she moved here from Oaktown.
Okay, off to start my day refreshed by a bagel and a blazing hot coffee~~~
~~Amelie La Femme Busy
Saturday, March 09, 2002
My boss told me Friday afternoon that I needed to write down my dreams. Last night, I dreamed I was driving an old white plymouth station wagon. I was driving fast, careening down a steeply inclined curving road, a mountain pass, but the road is four lanes wide and I am swerving. I am passing a few cars, I can hear the drivers screaming at me. I can see the road ahead only as far as the curve allows. Surrounding my car, tall cliffs, tan and red, rise to the sky. They hit the blue, the bluest blue with not clouds, cornflower. The road is slick and hot and black and I can almost feel the wheels melting. I cannot hold the wheel, the car is lifting and turning, flipping. I see it and feel it run up the side of the cliff, but it keeps going. No gravity. I can feel the spin. I know I'm going to die when I hit the top of the cliff, and instead of falling, I'll go over it into nothing and die. I get very calm and let it happen. I woke up because my cat shabazz was sitting solidly on my bladder.
I remember last week, when my foot was swollen, I had a dream I was driving with my friend Temperance. She was driving a big jeep cherokee type car, and we were in the middle of a large expansive parking lot, in some sort of field. Like when you park and camp, or go to the fair. We carry our work things to the small station, where we are planning to catch a bus or a train. I think it is a small commuter tram. We meet other friends there, they are talking. They are all in various stages of pregnancy, even Temperance with her long blonde hair. I am not pregnant, I don't talk. We get on the bus. No one has change. They all leave their things to run to the bathroom one last time. I am stuck trying to pay for everyone and the bus driver is mad. He takes my change, gives me 4 tickets, and shuts the door. I yell "no! wait!" but he doesn't. He tells me to sit down and shut up. I sit. We drive fast through the parking lot, and soon we are on a one lane road going nowhere in the grass. The tram is loaded. I feel this urgency to make him stop so my friends can catch up, but we are so far away, I am debating, because they will never catch up. I pull the emergency brake.
He throws me off the tram, I am carrying all of their things. The only thing I remember thinking as I am walking back is how much my foot hurts.
Can you make things happen to yourself in your dreams? I think dying is like floating. I wonder if my cat was holding me down...
Thursday, March 07, 2002
1943 Guide to Hiring Women
The following is an excerpt from the July 1943 issue of Transportation Magazine. This was serious and written for male supervisors of women in the
work force during World War II - a mere 58 years ago!
Eleven Tips on Getting More Efficiency Out of Women Employees:
There is no longer any question whether transit companies should hire women
for jobs formerly held by men. The draft and manpower shortage has settled
that point. The important things now are to select the most efficient women
available and how to use them to the best advantage.
Here are eleven helpful tips on the subject:
1. Pick young married women. They usually have more of a sense of
responsibility than their unmarried sisters. They are less likely to be
flirtatious. They need the work, or they would not be doing it. They still
have the pep and interest to work hard and to deal with the public
2. When you have to use older women, try to get ones who have worked
outside the home at some time in their lives. Older women who have never
contacted the public have a hard time adapting themselves and are inclined to be
cantankerous and fussy. It is always well to impress upon older women, the
importance of friendliness and courtesy.
3. General experience indicates that "husky" girls - those who are just a
little on the heavy side - are more even tempered and efficient than their
4. Retain a physician to give each woman you hire a special physical
examination - one covering female conditions. This step not only protects
the property against the possibilities of lawsuit, but reveals whether the
employee-to-be has any female weaknesses which would make her mentally or
physically unfit for the job.
5. Stress at the outset, the importance of time; the fact that a minute or
two lost here and there makes serious inroads on schedules. Until this
point is gotten across, service is likely to be slowed up.
6. Give the female employee a definite day-long schedule of duties so that
they will keep busy without bothering the management for instructions every
few minutes. Numerous properties say that women make excellent workers when
they have their jobs cut out for them, but that they lack initiative in finding work themselves.
7. Whenever possible, let the inside employee change from one job to
another at some time during the day. Women are inclined to be less nervous and
happier with change.
8. Give every girl an adequate number of rest periods during the day. You
have to make some allowances for feminine psychology. A girl has more
confidence and is more efficient if she can keep her hair tidied, apply
fresh lipstick and wash her hands several times a day.
9. Be tactful when issuing instructions or in making criticisms. Women are
often sensitive; they cannot shrug off harsh words the way men do. Never
ridicule a woman - it breaks her spirit and cuts off her efficiency.
10. Be reasonably considerate about using strong language around women. Even
though a girl's husband or father may swear vociferously, she will grow to
dislike a place of business where she hears too much of this.
11. Get enough size variety in operator's uniforms so that each girl can
have a proper fit. This point cannot be stressed too much in keeping women happy.
No one wants to read about feet. And about cranky sisters.
I forgot my cameras today, and I have a little headache that won't go away. But I'm around.