Out and About: Photography

Passing Through

The Lonely Road

Fly Me Away

Fantastic.

I am looking forward to this movie.
Can't deny it, so I won't.

In other news...I've been working on a few writing projects, so as soon as I've got something somewhat solid to post I will.

Be patient with me, I've been on vacation from work and it's bled over into my home life. I've been the laziest I've ever been (or will probably ever be) in my life for the past week and a half.

Aint' That a Kick

Nothing like Leonard Cohen on a Friday night to make the mood...

Love what you do, do what you love because you can lose it all within the blink of an eye.

Lately I've been working like crazy (what else is new). But I notice that I feel differently about it now. I'm proud about it, I don't fight it as much therefore I'm not so stressed. I want less drama all around. I creatively feed off of the buzz of a silent room and I'm thankful for the moments when my brain finally settles down and there's a complete and clear thought filtering through. I want to stay home more, out of the chaos. I love my body, the way it feels under nice clothes, I've grown my hair long and there's been actual consecutive days I've gone without make-up. Hell, I just looked in the mirror and I have a nice little patch of silver hair coming in. I'm now 24 years old.

For now it's just about learning. And having fun along the way. I'll have some short story stuff up soon.

Closing remarks: R.I.P godfather of many childhood summers- John Hughes, I've missed Cary Elwes voice so so much, Back pain sucks, as a kid (and even today) I was made fun of for being a mix of different Native American tribes (Natives making fun of an Native for not being the "right kind of Native) and that twat Jessica Simpson claims she's 1/16th Native American on "her mother's side" and it makes headlines (shakes head and sighs- people are crazy) and finally, you'd half expect Eric Bana to just beat the hell out of you if you so much as breathe around him- but he's a funny/nerdy yummy man. Props!

Summer Fun Trio

Hot In Here

My land is bare of chattering folk:

the clouds are low along the ridges,

and sweet's the air with curly smoke

from all my burning bridges.

-Dorothy Parker, Sanctuary

Off to Neverland

I had to be about 6 or 7 years old when we were having dinner one night and my older brother sat me down in front of the T.V.(probably in a last ditch effort to shut me up and keep me still while I ate). He flipped through the channels, eventually landing on MTV - these were the days when it was still possible to find actual MUSIC Videos playing in-between the Real World New York and Remote Control...All I heard my brother say was, "Mija, You got to see this."

It was one thing to have the cool, dingy nightclub and all of the people dressed up in 20's gear, but Smooth Criminal had all of the dancing, beat and rhythm to match. I watched in amazement as this thin guy in a white suit and fedora worked the room like nobody's business. Just when I thought it wouldn't get any better the infamous 50 degree lean happened. This guy could fucking defy gravity! It suprised me then as a kid and it makes me smile now as an adult. I admit, it is still one of my favorite songs.

Within all of the media shitstorm lately surrounding the death of Michael Jackson, I'm choosing not to acknowledge that and base this post on him soley as an entertainer. Also I'm leaving out the multiple accusations of child molestation and his tumultuous upbringing with a bully, vulture, greedy SOB of a father. He's gone and it's not my place to make judgments on someone else.

I think that he was someone who strove for nothing less than perfection when performing onstage or in a video and it showed. From that point on, my brother and I sat down together for the world premier of Remember the Time, Scream, and Black or White. Seeing the barriers he broke in creativity is still something that drives me in my own writing endeavors. Anything is possible. He worked with the best people in the business and the end result is still being talked about.

Maybe we will never know what happened in his life during some of his most controversial events and behavior. All I know is that I can thank him for atleast giving me moments of connecting with others and my family through his music. A tiny bit of my childhood faded away with his death. It seems like that is happening more and more frequently.

Arizona Sky

The River Wild

After initial fear of cold rushing water and...well, death, I said what the hell and took on 17 miles of the American River and LOVED IT. I now know what it's like to just bite the bullet, take my chances and be so happy/proud that I didn't pass the chance up. I'll remember how I felt in these pictures til' the day I die. If you look very hard, I'm in that that little raft, smiling, laughing and enjoying every minute of that rapid.


In mid-May, I took a flight to California with little more than 200 dollars in my wallet and pure hopes that I would finally get over the stress of bullshit work and make a much needed escape from regular life for a short while. I slept in, ate whatever I wanted and used the hot tub like nobody's business. I was completely lazy and for the first time in a long time I allowed myself to take it slow and easy.
Before I had left I had to undergo some radiation treatments for a thyroid problem. I had never felt so sick in my life and actually I thought it would hinder my ability to have a fun time. Even the word radiation freaked my family out. I chose not to tell anyone really until I had it completed. That also was the best decision I could have made for myself. As of now I feel good and honestly, I will miss my 20's when I'm older and looking back. My birthday is next month and I am finally starting to feel that creeping, cold, clammy hand of adulthood wrap it's fingers around my neck with a determined grip. Bring it on. Things have definately changed. More later.

American River, California

Californicaton

Good evening ladies and jellyspoons,

Hiking, club dancing, river rafting, flying, and forgoing meat. A few of the things that I've managed to do in the great great place of Auburn, CA. I apologize for being persona non-grata around these parts lately. People, I needed a fucking vacation, you had no idea. I'm nearing the end of my journey and I've got a few good stories for ya' when I'm done. Hang tight and keep on keeping on.

Talk to you all soon.

Walking

Something of mine that I found while rummaging throught my documents...crude and unpolished, just the way I like it.

For something as simple as going for a walk in the evening, she found a remarkably amazing ability to clear her mind of nagging worries and import brand new, clear thoughts at the same time. Going round and round on the simple gravel track and hearing the distinct sound crushing of dirt and earth under her worn out shoes calmed what charged emotion she had running through her body. Her breathing became rhythmic and the digital form of life-evolving music climbing up through the baby blue cord of her headphones gave her a reason to have that slight but noticeable soul to the swing of her hourglass waist and hips. Men drove by and stared from the road that was separated by a chain-link fence that failed to keep out stupidly bold comments and crude disrespect. She kept going despite the pain in her back, the ache in her hands and the twist of her right knee. Laughing to herself at the fact that she and others had indeed broken parts of her body and bone that were strictly taken for granted at the time of injury.

One step after another and the change of pace allowed her to coast easily, reminding herself that ancestors once walked the bearing strait, creating history. Walking. Her own attempts times over to get away from a bad situation in her youth. Walking. Wild and unforgiving with no immediate direction, a busted lip or a busted face. Walking. Choosing to leave three men who fiercely proclaimed undying love for her, but she never could fully believe their pleas no matter how hard or soft they played her. Walking, walking, walking. She reminisced about those long, hot days in the valley with no money in her pocket but instead possessing a free, unhinged, graceful feeling in her punk heart. Black mascara and three shades of blue in her long black hair forever covering an small face with wide, impressionable almond-shaped eyes, exotically arched eyebrows and a grin to get her way through.

The slick beat of Marvin Gaye’s “Inner City Blues” brought her back down and she regained the focus she had started out with. Knowing that someone out there expressed their troubles in such a beautiful way can lift up a unlucky spirit even on the most difficult days. Out on the track there is odd peace, the dusk sky a brilliant work with pink, blue, purple and gold coming together to take her breath away and she‘s the only one around to notice it. Do people even realize how absolutely gorgeous that is? Are they too wrapped up in the bullshit of work and backsliding complaints about things that aren’t really worth the trouble? That understanding made her thank the creator for times like this, like being let in on small, wonderfully delicious secret. Good times were few and far between.

Her pure competitive nature urged her to get ten miles in today. The small argument between her suggestive impulse and body went on for a few minutes until an inner drive to push her limits eventually won and took over. The eastern breeze cooled her brow which had begun to moisten and the cold water from the tiny bottle she carried was welcome on her tongue and went down with a sigh. The jeans that she had stolen years ago from a laundry slid down like they were ready to be taken off and she rearranged the belt that was there more for decoration purposes than function due to the extra slack of the band. She embraced and welcomed the weight loss she had encountered during the past eleven months. The light coffee (with a hell of a lot of cream and sugar) color of her skin complemented the shadow of her visible collarbones. Her long legs and arms stretched out like tree limbs and she noticed the difference and felt taller. Break-ups always seemed to do her some good as far as looks went. There was always some physical positive that came out of the end of a relationship. A new reincarnation to behold, lovely things about herself that she had neglected or forgotten while in the middle of being with someone. Her dedication to that person was unwavering. That was just her style.

This was the longest that she had gone being single and every day fascinated her in some way or another. Of course there were ups and downs galore but that was to be expected. A few nights ago a young couple kissing under a street lamp made her hurt and angrily remember the ex-fiancé she had to let go of, but then just last night she was happy and content to sleep alone and have full control of her daily life. She wanted nothing more than to throw rocks at those stupid kids swapping spit and mono through strawberry lip gloss and braces. She new better because she was in the exact same place eight years ago (no braces or mono though). The painful process of the entire implosion of the seemingly unbreakable bond that she and him once shared was like traveling on a long road in an unfamiliar place. The car’s gas light is on empty and there is no station for the next seventy miles. You got a flat tire as well and no spare, scared as hell to lose control, you continue on even when you know its not a good idea. His choice of cheating partner and immediate blatant refusal or recognition of remorse nearly destroyed what she had left of prospect for actual love to exist. There was no fucking way that someone could just live and be completely happy with someone. They had a good run, but didn’t quite make it home.

After she accomplished what she set out to do, she made her way back to her car. Rummaging through her back pocket to get the key and turn the ignition she bid goodnight to the sun and went for a quick drive. The Chambers Brothers on the dial, talking about time. She turned the volume up and hit the main strip of her small town. The buildings incredibly old and dirty, not taken care of. Broken glass was lit by the neon motel signs creating a unique jeweled landscape. A slight gust of air caused the rusty dirt to come up over the sidewalk and into the street. The tiny granules stinging and covering her like a unwanted blanket through her open windows. Sad and pathetically underdeveloped, this is where she is from. She wondered how long this place would last in the future as she turned right on Third Street interweaving traffic to get past the slow drivers that felt 15mph was somehow making great time. I’d never need a car in San Francisco she thought. Not downtown anyway. The bay area had stuck with her deep. A short trip she made last year had made all the difference when her relationship hit a brick wall. She was looking forward to going back some day and making amends to the guys she turned down when she was unavailable due to an engagement ring. The entire city ran through her blood still and she believed whole-heartedly that she was meant to be there.

Pulling up to the front of her little brick apartment she took note of the mailbox that held all of the early part of the month’s bills. Back to reality so suddenly when just half an hour earlier she had found enlightenment. Surrounding clouds looked heavy and she rested her head on the steering wheel before gathering her things and rolling up the windows. The now stronger wind had brought the scent of rain, pleasing her.

What Dreams May Come

The subject of sleep has always been tricky for me. I don't get much of it. Sometimes I'm lying awake and my mind is still going fast, still thinking, churning and compressing. It doesn't stop and it wears me thin when the time comes to get up and go to work in the morning. Then there are the nights when I dream true and extraordinary. Not your run of the mill, I went to class/work/wherever naked kind of sleepy visions but the dreams that are so vivid and long that it seems like I never even really went to bed at all. I feel and see everything so hardcore. In that moment there's absolutely no separation between reality and these far away, cosmic adventures my tired subconscious is having.

In the past three nights I have loved, feared, stolen, died and charmed my way through scenarios, each extremely different from each other. And each epic with a twist of thrill and mysterious themes. It's not so much breaking down the dream or trying to remember details - I do that just fine. Its the attempt to apply a meaning for what just went on. What I'm trying to tell myself. Does dreaming of being shot to death and then coming back as a vengeful ghost tell me that something bad and deadly looms near? Does envisioning a man -one that I have an almost embarrassing crush on- nearly assaulting me tell me to watch my step around the opposite sex? Why now in my 20's? Am I losing it? Did I ever have it???

In being honest with you, I do actually hope that the dreams don't fade away with time and age. In some little twisted way I enjoy waking up with a fresh puzzle still on my fuzzy brain, thinking it through during the day and going into battle the following evening. The nights when nothing happens and I'm alone within the silence of a room makes me restless and frustrated.

Its getting later and later, the sun down hours ago and I'm in the cute cotton dress that I bought on a whim. I can feel the cold air come through my thin apartment windows, my back full of knots pulls and contorts my frame. I'm looking forward to hitting the pillow and losing myself in the sheets, letting the mattress do the work.

Leaving on a Jet Plane Pt. I

So I missed out on a Chris Isaak concert last night due to scheduling and traveling issues. I compensated with playing Grand Theft Auto for an hour or two, basically forgoing the missions, boosting only the fast cars and motorcycles from poor, helpless civilians, killing in the name of greed/money and taking long, scenic rides by the coast of San Andreas and other gang infested areas. Even with all the fun mayhem and ultra violence of the street, I'm still none the less bummed this morning. Top that off with having to come to work on little sleep and I'm a serious risk.

I have an opportunity to be blogging from California in a couple of months. Not to live (but who knows), just on a short and much needed vacation. The prospect of having fun in another state, drinking incessantly, writing, meeting new people and drinking incessantly with them sounds great and fun. I can't really wait to get out into the sun and get a decent tan that doesn't involve pain and red skin.

The great thing about this certain trip is that I'm going it alone for the first time. I've always been in the situation of traveling with family, friends or groups. I am looking forward to being solo on my way to the coast. Not having to small talk, explain or entertain anyone but myself. Nameless and unknown in the terminal, getting my cute suitcase (that I just bought for a damn good price) off of the carousel and eventually/silently catching a cab that will take me wherever I want to go.

To be continued...

Nothing Like a Sunday

I don't know what it is but you got to do it

I don't know where to go But you got to be there

I don't know where to fall

But I know that its comfortable where

I don't know where it is

Putting all of my time In learning to care

And a bucket of rhymes I threw up somewhere

Want a locket of who Made me lose

my perfunctory view Of all that is around

And of all that I do

So I knock on the door, Take a step that is new

Never been here before

Is there anyone else who's too

In love with beauty

Playing all of the games

And thinks three's company

Is there anyone else who has slightly mysterious bruises

I don't know what it is

Sick of looking around at friendly faces

All declaring a war on far off places

Is there anyone else who is through

With complaining about what's Done unto us

So I knock on the door

And I am on a train

Going god knows where to

To get me over, To get me over

Give me heaven or hell

Calais or Dover

I was hoping the train

Was my big number

Taking the Santa Fe and the Atchison-Topeka

But we're chugging along, put Dunaway by the crossing and

Could be heading for Portland, or limbo or Lower Manhattan

Find myself running around

I don't know what it is to get me over

I don't know what it is to get me over

I don't know what it is to get me over

To get me over

You gotta do it.

You gotta be there.

Here with Me

Yes yes kids, the times are a changin' (hopefully for the better- well find out in the long run). I figured that I needed a piece of that change too.

I've always liked this picture. What is he walking away from (or to?) Is he going to take the lit path or the dark alley? It reminds me of my own journey, and that kind of anxious uncertainty you get from being afraid yet determined. When you've been burned so many times before but this time might be different and when you think you're done and had enough, then keep going some more.

I find that it helps being thankful for the little things. The sun rising and setting each morning for example. Knowing that there's a 100% possibility that the sun will go down to the west and give off such a brilliant sky gives me something to strive for. I want to see the sun come up and warm the cold, blue hazed atmosphere that I travel to work in. I want to see the people I love, and let them know - even when its hard - that I do care for them. I have to work on the things that aren't healthy for me. I can't run for a cigarette (Even though I REALLY REALLY REALLY want to) when I'm stressed. I need to let go of the stress and not take things personal. All of these little things I need to have with me every day. Regardless. When you lose track of who you are as a person, there's no other harder consequence to take. I hope to keep this up for as long as I live. There will be days when I give up, but only temporary. I have nothing or no one but myself to rely on.

As the days come and go, I note only the progress I have made with certain issues in my life. I've gotten rid of the people who do me no such good. I think about them only to remind myself of the better times I spent with them and to be more aware of the potential for bad times with others. I've forgiven them (and myself) for every sort of hurt that we have caused each other. That was harder than I thought.

With all of this rambling I guess I just mean to say that I'm a happier person than I was a year ago. I just have to keep on walking.