we interrupt my work with . . . .

i have a gazillion pictures to show you. fabulous fabulous wedding pictures. however . . . .i've been doing that a lot these days, what with all the shooting, so despite my excitement i'm going to wait until they're all properly sorted and folderized so that i can make some sort of small pick to show you.

instead, i'll sit here with my two a.m. snack of vanilla yogurt and granola (i'm only saying that out loud to imagine the funny cringe benji does when he sees me eat it) and offer up a couple of links.

1. Pussy Ranch "pussyranch" is a blog written by a stripper. ex-stripper now. i don't remember how i found her, but i promise it has nothing to do with porn. i first found her here. she is an incredibly funny writer. incredibly funny. you know you want to read a stripper's blog.
2. Post Secret "post secret" asks you to make a postcard stating a secret you've never told anyone and anonymously send it in. these are really amazing pieces of art on many different levels. he posts new ones every sunday. unfortunatley, i think he also takes some down every sunday.
3. Ashlie Atkinson remember my friend ashlie who was staring in the off-broadway "fat pig"? she now keeps a live journal!
4. Brandon Hutchinson remember brandon who stayed with us for a month not too long ago? this is the blog about the current film he's working on.
5. The Head the head is fiance to cat whom i'm going to see in canada really really soon. and this is just tooo funny!

now . . . . .back to work.

raindrops are falling on my head

it was just a rehersal, but the rainy day and bright colors made for really beautiful, saturated pictures.


this dog was an absolute gas! she just stared at me for a long time, ready to pounce, until i figured out her wet rag toy was lying at my feet.


i got to meet all of k.'s sisters. i don't know how they do it, but they somehow manage to seem as cool as k. herself! and fashion sense to boot.


there must be a strong cool gene in the family.


i didn't even recognize groom c. without his facial hair! how embaressing. i like this pic, where everyone's clamouring about wondering where to go and he just stands here with big puppy eyes.


i'm feeling very excited about the wedding tomorrow since going to the rehersal this afternoon. the people are amazing, the location is perfect, and i got some really cool shots. who knew weddings could be so cool?

so. hard. to. delete.

i'm making serious progress in clearing my computer of pictures and backing them up. serious progress.


but it's so hard to select the folder containing pictures of penn being born ----- literally in the process of entering the world ----- and then hitting "delete," surrendering them to the fate of a cd.


so i'm making double back-up copies of those. during this process you'll probably see quite a few funny little baby penn pics like these. *sigh* he's only 17 months old and i already love going back and going through the digital albums.

dear penn,

the book has been sent to press. you can see it at it's temporary online home here.

i'm it

i've been tagged! i've never been tagged before. before i get down to the nitty gritty, let me explain: there are many games in the blogging world that pose topics to find out more about the author. the author answers the questions and is then supposed to pass it on to x number of bloggers for them to answer.

on to the fun stuff.

I. Total number of books I've owned:

i haven't a clue. i worked at a bookstore for five years, people. five years at a bookstore that gives discounts and gift cards once a month for free books. i own/have owned enough books that there are definetly more boxes of books than anything else when i move. i own/have owned enough books that in moving to dallas i forced myself to get rid of a bunch in order to fit my clothes in the car. ('cause i moved here with only what would fit in my car.) i own/have owned enough books that up until very recently (when we came into the realm of being able to afford movers) i totally quit buying books. ummm, lately though, i've been buying----and reading---quite a few. short answer: i did own too many, but after the purging, i now own just enough.

II. The last book I bought:

last book i bought was "barn blind" by jane smiley. after reading and adoring "the unthinkable thoughts of jacob green" by joshua braff i went to his website to see what else i could find. he's coming out with another book soon. he had a list of books that he likes and i had read almost all of them except "barn blind."

III. The last book I read:

I'm currently reading (*flushing with embaressment due to that book snob thing i recently discussed) "digital fortress" by dan brown. i read "the davinci code" and was so surprised at all the things i learned and all the things it made me think about, not to mention the cool puzzles. so, i decided to check out his other stuff. "angels and demons," and "deception point" were fun reads of his too. (once i get started on an author or artist, i tend to go all the way.)

IV. 5 books that mean a lot to me:

this was the first book i read as a child that i felt was "big" and that i really remembered and wanted to talk about. it was the first book i could see in my head. it was the first book that made me cry. after i read "my friend flicka" i walked around telling everyone my favorite author was "mary o'hara." (this made me feel important and smart because other kids didn't have favorite authors.) the main character's name is ken, which is also my fathers name and at the time i thought this was cool.


all about american artists in paris and spain drinking and traveling the days away. i'm pretty sure that was my highschool fantasy. it's also all about unrequited. love. i'm always drawn to this theme.


"the four agreements" came at a really important time in my life where, although i was questioning everything, i still had this idea of how i wanted to feel about life. this book validated my thoughts and put into words for me a lot of my feelings. all things positive, relationship-wise (this is not limited to boyfriends; all relationships), happened after reading this book.


man oh man. oh man. this book really did it for me. i mean i fell head over heels in absolute love with this book. this book showed adventure all around me. i've always loved traveling, but after "on the road" i loved it in a whole new way. there was suddenly an actual need for it. there was a need for travel and sights and bebop and music and lots and lots and lots of poetry and lots and lots and lots of sitting around my apartment with groups of friends straggeling in and out, physically and mentally. i was in the midst of a beat generation binge that hasn't ended yet. i have binders and binders of poetry that came out of the height of ginsberg overdoses. i was taking every poetry class i could possibly squeeze in. the defining moment: writing a poem that got passed around somehow a lot and found it's way to a neighboring college in memphis in the hands of a painting teacher who now uses it in his painting class. his wife wrote back to me, "this could wow ginsberg." i've been on a mission to wow ginsberg every since.

jeesus. i've only got one more. okay. we'll go with this:

i love salinger. i love the rhythm of each line, probably more than the actual story. after i read this my writing started to immitate his and i was shocked and really really pleased. now, whenever i get lost in writing (well, when i wrote regularly, that is) i read salinger. mmmmm, salinger.

V. thanks for the tag, ginger. and now i'm supposed to pass this on to 5 others? haven't you guys saturated my blogroll already with this thing? how 'bout cat (i know you hate these things), nella, daniel, mom, and chris? tag. you're it.

oh canada

i'm going to canada in july! i've always had a grand fascination with canada. i think it started in highschool. there was a tall skinny red-headed trombone player slouching in his chair reading a book. i asked him what it was. his answer was tilting the book back so i could read the cover. "stranger's music" by leanord cohen. a book of poems.

i asked him if i could see it. the first poem i read was "bird on a wire." i was hooked. i read it over and over again.

once the trombone player realized i was actually interested he filled me in on all the goodness that is cohen. i was addicted. i had to know everything. once i found out cohen was a canadian native, i had to know all about that too. i really wanted to see the land that spawned the thoughts in cohen's head. leanord cohen and that one poem brought poetry to me. it made everything click. i could suddenly see everything i wanted to be.

art pulls from many things to make it substantial and moving. you don't always know why you like a piece. sometimes you just do. and i just liked "bird on wire." whatever cohen pulled from to write that poem made sense to me.

i have years of failed trips to canada behind me. money being the number one canada trip assasin.

it was just "one of those things" that brought me to meet cat. i followed a comment she made here at thinkspot and went to her blog and saw a picture of a fairy. i immediatley clicked "back" as fairies and the stupid sterotype i have about them and their cult following do not appeal to me.

and then i went to her blog again. who knows why. i pretended the fairy wasn't there and read a post. i've been reading and talking to cat ever since.

long story short: i'm a photographer and cat's a fiance'. we need eachother, eh? (preparing for the canadien lingo.) the circumstances were all so perfect! i wasn't booked, free ticket to canada, FREE BABYSITTER! as mary is coming along for the ride. i get to meet in person my very own internet blogging buddy who is adorable and sweet and funny with a very interesting past.

an hour ago cat popped up the above picture on her instant messenger. i asked her if i could have it. i think if i were to shoot it up like smack i'd get a really good ego high. she sent it over joking about doing some "touch-ups." which . . .i did. you like, cat?

and so, thank you cat, for giving me a good ego high, not to mention hiring me to shoot your wedding in canada. it's going to be fabulous.

fast n good

quickest cd cover i ever put together.


and . . .i think i like it. simplicity rules.


i also learned a little more about my "replace color" tool, as that background is strictly BRIGHT orange. but, i wasn't sure i wanted something so bright considering the dark saturation of the cover and back. i think it works well.

also, there's been a lack of daily posting due to the demand of learning new programs. i'm implimenting a new and easier for me way for me to get client albums online. *sigh* i think i just fixed it. if penn would just quit screaming at me for a second i could find out.

wow

*click photos to view full size.*

by chance i met her and by chance i happened to have my portfolio on me. she happened to like them and pretty much told me i was going to take her pictures. i jumped at the chance. she's beautiful and artistic and knows about photography. when she said wedding, i cringed with doubt, but she had such confidence in what i was going to do.


and i thank her for that. i thank her ten times over because we just did her bridal portrait wednesday and came out with some really outstanding photos.


she's very unique and artistic and wanted a bridal portrait that showed this. no stuffy in the church with flowers type of thing. she wanted an urban setting against this gorgeous dress that she designed.


i think if i had asked her to really pose she would have barfed on me right there.


which is really a good thing since i don't know really know how to pose people. i don't really know how to make people something they're not.


there's so much life and beauty and fun in this girl and it just comes out all over the photos.


this is one of the times where i asked her to do something specific. i wanted her in this lovely dress, but with a wide stance. very squared off. i didn't communicate this well, but we still got a really cool shot.


there are so many good photos i want to show all of them to you.


but that would take up the whole blog.


so i'll onlyshow you a few more.


i did black and white and color, but didn't want to mix them up in this post. perhaps i'll show you some color later.


so thank you, k. for being so damned cool and so damned pretty and so damned creative and for having such confidence in my art. the weddings going to be a blast.

how to get things done:

to get things done, you first have to have things happen to you.

for example, you have to buy your son a gazillion bubbles bubble machine and your son has to adore it. then you have to leave it out on the balcony in the rain a couple of times. eventually, your bubble machine will break. perhaps it was the rain. perhaps not. either way, you have to have a broken bubble machine.

then you call the manufacturer of your bubble machine. mine was funrise. then you have to write a letter saying that you bought a bubble machine and it broke and now your son is really dissapointed, and oh, by the way, you put a review of it on your blog and other people bought the same machine and theirs broke too. you also have no reciept, but because of the high sad baby factor in the household, you'd like a replacement.

what happens next? the president of the company writes you a letter saying that he is really sorry about the machine and is urgently sending out a replacement to fix the sad baby factor.

first thing done!

another example of things happening to you: your baby turns up covered with gigantic fire ants three times.

to make things happen, write your park commision and ask if there's anything that can be done about the ants taking over the playground. tell him also that the litter and dog poop are getting out of control and the grass is full of stickers.

what happens next? your park commision will call you and tell you that they are sending out a litter crew and someone to take care of the ants. they are also going to add irrigation to the park so that they can re-sod with soft fluffy grass, re-do the pavillion, and perhaps give the park a whole new design.

the next day you will actually witness these people putting his words into action. penn and i, we were highly impressed.

how to get things done; yeah. if only it were that easy, eh?

afterhours

penn is a busy baby. his days are full of walks, trips to the park, the grocery, the bookstore, the library, the petstore, watching shrek and sesame street, playing the piano, the guitar, the trumpet, and dancing. he's also on a constant mission to find things that will stain the carpet.

but how does a little guy like penn wind down after a busy day with mommy? first daddy brings home the dreaded fried dead bird, otherwise known as brothers chicken.


i'm not too fond of the fried-dead-bird-otherwise-known-as-brothers-chicken-also-known-as-that-which-creates-huge-grease-stains-on-penn's-dwindling-wardrobe, however, i'm not one to deny the special time penn and his daddy have eating fried dead bird legs on the balcony.


it's hard to deny this face much.


next he knocks back a couple . . .


of dad's EMPTY beer bottles. (you can tell that social service worker good-bye now, thankyouverymuch..)


then maybe he'll have a nice desert of strawberry yogurt to counteract the effects of the dead fried bird dinner.


penn cuteness tip: yogurt also makes a good hair conditioner.


then for a nice relaxing bubble bath and a couple of shampoos to rinse out the yogurt and rid him, for at least eight hours, of that perpetual baby stickyness. penn sometimes multi-tasks by dumping cup loads of water onto the floor to encourage me to mop. gee. thanks.


after several tosses in the air, a couple of chases around the couch, a few books and tickles, penn hits the hay, and rises bright and early ready to do it all over again.

this concludes our snapshot extravaganza of penn. whatta life, eh?

amazing, people

what the hell happened? no seriously, where've i been? because the goddess that is ani put out an album in january. jan-u-ary. which means i have missed out on four whole months of enigmatic inspiration. everyone got their clickers ready? one, two, three "click!" buy her. support her. love her. but not more than me, because if this whole benji thing doesn't work out i will begin the long and desperate cause that is explaining the legitimacy of my love (read: stalking) to ani and i really don't need the competition.



i'd like to answer the hypothetical question that no one posed to me: if you had to sound like someone else, and you could pick anyone else to sound like, who would that be? i find myself asking myself this a lot. i should figure that out, eh? nevermindthatnow.

'tis a tie. it used to be a three-way tie, but i recently removed joni mitchell from the running the other day while listening to "blue" and driving to get my glasses fixed.



'tis a tie between the loverly ani difranco (long dramatic sigh) and erin mckeown. if you haven't heard of erin yet, well, get to clicking. her voice sounds like cats are in her belly, pumping bellows up through the well designed pan flute that is her vocal chord. beautiful, i tell you. she speaks and sings as if she's not breathing at all and at the same time breathing while she sings. i think her hair breathes. the lines of her songs and the strums of her guitar make me feel a little like someone has just dumped a large bowl of luke-warm angel hair pasta over my head.

deliciously weird and slightly abstract, though in a way the masses will adore, if given a listen.

how you should listen: "distiliation" first, then "monday morning cold," then the latest album "grand." she's got a new one coming out in june.

and hypothetically, if i were of the male luck i'd want to sound just like ben folds.



just like him, 'cause damn people. it just don't get no better. he's like some sort of feather pillow wrapped around a grand piano and my head and my heart, snuggling and warm and comforting, and then bursting all at once into a cloud of down. i'm still waiting to hear "songs for silverman" in its entirety.

pardon me. it seems i have gotten a little lost on the descriptions here. that's what happens when you eat sonic tator tots and chai for dinner.

"ya'll think ya'll know me? whas ma name? errrbody say snoooop dawg!"

last night, with free vip tix, i went to a snoop dog concert. ha! snoop was right there in front me, decked out in his stylin' blue dress-like outfit doing that snoop step that reminds me a little of how bill cosby danced.

i went to the concert mostly because of the free tix, but in part for nostalgia. you see, i was a huge snoop dog fan in highschool. however, i don't know anything about snoop now and thus cared little about anything he performed.

when we walked into the open ampitheatre we were knocked down by the cloud of marijuanna smoke. ahhhh, a true concert. i always find it amusing that there are rows of people with blunts and bongs and policeman concerned only with who's standing on a seat. my two concert-mates were guzzeling beer so i was potentially the only sober one out of the entire crowd. well, except for the children, but i'll save that for a real downer rant at the end.

one of my concert mates asked me why i wasn't raising my hands in the air as directed for various reasons; 1) point your finger in the air for those you lost, 2) wave 'em side to side for your kids, and the main one, asked for again and again 3) put your middle finger in the air to say fuck this or that or cops or some other rapper or east coast, blah-de-blah.

and for the third, i had a strange philosophical discussion with myself. because i don't want to fuck anyone; the world, the cops, the east coast, or ja rule. and what kind of energy is being created by this thousand people shouting it and throwing their middle finger up in the air?

i will say this. all those middle fingers and gang signs in the air made a really cool site amongst the lights and smoke and huge television screens showing booty.

"the game" went on. he metaphorically poured one for his homies; tu-pac, eazy-e, and all the other rappers who died and who's names i can't remember or don't know. then he talked about his friend "billbo" (or something like that) who is apparently deceased. it sounded like he was crying. hard to tell. he started the song about "billbo" and broke down before the first verse was finished. he layed on the stage for a minute, got up, wiped his face off, said something to the effect of it being okay for a grown man to cry on stage, and then said he was going to start again and finish the song. he didn't. he stopped and wept over a speaker. he said he couldn't finish and then he pulled this kid out on stage. 10 years old, maybe. it was "billbo's" son. he talked about his friend, about this kid, about his friend to this kid who looked a little uncomfortable under the spotlight "the game" had just pushed him under. then the kid left.

but "the game" wasn't done and i'm sure was also pretty drunk because he and dr. dre had decided the song should be performed the way it was written. drunk. and he slammed a big 40 onstage. he pulled the kid out again, along with the kid's grandfather, who was his friend "billbo's" dad. he professed his love and friendship to their kin, apologized for being drunk while he was saying all of this and all of it, really, was pretty moving. honest.

then he talked about his two year old son and how much he loved him. he pulled his two year old kid out on stage. part of me thought it's 12:30 in the morning and it's LOUD and everyone's intoxicated and this poor two year old shouldn't be out here. but it was the CUTEST kid you've ever seen and he seemed happy in his dad's arms on stage. "the game" rapped a whole song about his kid (which was pretty good, i thought) all the while holding him and when he was done we all clapped. and because we clapped, so did the two year old, which was just heart melting.

we left a little early to beat the crowd and didn't use our vip status to meet snoop. damn. i'd forgotten we might've been able to meet him until i was in the car.

the downer rant? i saw several children there. children of all ages. a three year old even walked by me towards the stage looking frightened as his dad pushed him on in front of him through the thick crowd. WHY? why are you people bringing children of any age to a show where there is a glorification of guns, over-amplified curse words of every flavor, women being referred to as pussy or bitch, ear-drum bursting sounds and a stage decorated with marijuanna plants? it's sick. it's really sick.

i'm not normally one to judge parents-----but that's wrong, people. it is wrong to bring a three year old to this place at a concert that lasts until 1:30 in the morning or longer.

why the hell did i go? because i had never been to a gansta rap concert and because a good friend offered up free vip tickets and a chance to meet snoop. i did get to meet the guy who booked snoop. most of it was a total blast but there were too many "icky" things to justify the experience as being good on a whole. it was, however, an experience.

if ever a camera phone was in need.

yesterday penn and i made a trek to target on a quest for neosporin. you can't go to target and not visit the toy section. in the toy section there is a 15 foot cage of big ass balls. all colors. penn loves these balls and i don't know why i haven't gotten him one yet. i suppose i save it as a treat for suffering the target trips with me.

penn pointed and asked for a ball. i pulled out a big blue one and he threw it and chased it down the aisle and brought it back to me. and then he looked up. he filled his lungs to capacity in 1/25th of a second then giggled and danced and blabbered and pointed. he wanted the pink ball. the barbie pink ball.

but it was a weird sort've delight he was having at seeing the barbie pink ball. he had to have it, so i got it down and returned the blue ball back to the fifteen foot cage. ecstatic, i tell you. literally dancing with joy. we wandered with the huge barbie pink ball down the doll aisle.

penn stopped in the middle of the aisle, holding his ball and looked around as if he had entered another world. i don't think we had ever found our way down the doll aisle before. he was entranced. he walked up to each of them and waved and smiled that baby introduction that is beyond adult comprehension. he seemed to think the dolls were real children. he stopped at one in particular and decided it was his new best friend.

he showed the doll his ball and told it that it was wearing socks and that it had a nose and eyes and a hat. he talked for a long time with this doll, completely enthralled. he then got up, sucked in a bunch of air and danced again. he had spotted a polly pocket purse. star shaped and rainbowed out and he ran to it and put it over his shoulder. he showed it to his new best doll friend.

then he spotted a line of horses. big tall two foot horses all realistically colored except for one. one was white with a drag the ground glitter mane and stars on it's butt. that was, of course, the one he loved. and so he pranced around with his purse and his barbie pink ball petting the star butted horse and talking to his dolly.

i can't explain how cute/odd it was to see my little boy on the pink frilly aisle having the time of his life.

benji says if i have to get penn a doll, he'd like it to be "manly." now. where do i find a "manly" doll?

social gender issues say all of this is weird. i'd like to gaurd against this, but at the same time, my son obviously LOVES dolls. why shouldn't he play with one? 'cause some closed-minded red neck thinks it's sissy and it would be much more rational to give him a gun and let him pretend to shoot someone?

i probably won't get penn a doll. but i'll probably keep wanting to. fyi: he's only 17 months old so this means nothing.

to those of you who didn't know me in hs----yes, i was a cheerleader and no, i don't want to hear any dumb skirt jokes, mmmkay?

i am a blocker. if something bad happens to me i tuck it away into the recycle bin of my brain and i . . . .forget it. literally. it's not something i do consciously. consciously i look back and assess the situation and my decision making process. i learn from that and i move on with my life.

when i was in highschool i got kicked off the cheerleading squad. i'd love to tell you the story. it was a big stink in that little town at the time. but i can't. it wasn't pretty so i recycled it. i remember that the reasons on paper were not legit. i remember a couple of really misguided folks actually conspired to get me kicked off.

one example: you got kicked off for recieving too many demerits. the sponsor and co-captain would set up practice times, which i of course knew about. my living situation was a little shaky at the time due to whatever retarded teenage thoughts i was having that caused me to go stay with a friend and depend on them for a ride.

then, magically the practice time would change and the co-captain would call everyone except me causing me to be late and causing me to receive a demerit. silly, ain't it? i never had a demerit in my whole cheerleading career until this sponsor and young partner in crime showed up.

one more example: our squad took gymnastics in a neighboring town. it was mandatory everyone had to meet and drive together. one day i was running late and missed the take-off, so i drove myself. i was not late for class. i still received a demerit. not only that, but when i walked in i got to hear my sponsor say nasty things about me to my gymnastics coach. things like (aproximated and paraphrased), "she thinks she's so good, but i'll tell ya, i don't care how good she is, she's still replaceable." i was heartbroken, but moved on. other cheerleaders and the coach filled me in. not sure i really wanted to hear it, though. that demerit i guess i deserved. but the colorful commentary? nope. no high school girl does.

fact is, i was a good cheerleader. i wasn't the best and i was an awful tumbler, but i was good enough to make it every year and i took it seriously.

when i got kicked off, it made me uneligible to try out my senior year. then all hell broke loose and i've forgotten most of that, too. people put up a hell of a fight against me. a HELL of a fight. and some people put up a hell of a fight back, in the name of justice for all.

long story short, i was allowed to try out again and i made it. i heard that mean ole sponsor lady is no longer allowed to teach. her partner in crime, i think, was just a young pawn for her to use. either that or she's really evil in that i'm so cute and sweet you'd never guess i just ate your cat for dinner.

i remember driving back to my house and seeing that my friends had wrapped a gigantic sign around the town square saying "congratulations carissa" announcing to the world we had won. i remember walking into my house filled with balloons and friends and other congratulatory what-nots.

it was truly a victory of my adolescence. and absolutley would not have happened without the people who believed in me. one of those people is gaye.

because of my tragic memory blocking syndrome i am ashamed to say i can't remember exactly what she did, only that she was a big factor and she was so supportive of me. i cant express my gratitude enough. i'll be grateful long after my toe-touch days have left me. (i can still do one, by the way)

and then-----then she goes and does this!!!!!! (for the grandmothers reading: click the word "this.")

wow. i was floored. i had no idea how to express myself. again. it's really beautiful and really makes me think about a lot of things. makes me try to remember a lot of things. *sheesh*

so, to you gaye, thankyou. Thank You. i didn't know you were watching. but i think you're amazing and i'm glad that, thanks to the internet, you can keep on watching.

and, you know, if anyone out there feels like telling me how the whole thing went down, i'd love to hear it. perhaps in an e-mail?

much love.

in the middle of the road

those scores are all pretty close together. i've always been a hodgepodge kinda girl.
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You scored as Materialist. Materialism stresses the essence of fundamental particless. Everything that exists is purely physical matter and there is no special force that holds life together. You believe that anything can be explained by breaking it up into its pieces. i.e. the big picture can be understood by its smaller elements.

Materialist 88% Cultural Creative 75% Idealist 75% Modernist 69% Existentialist 56% Postmodernist 56% Romanticist 31% Fundamentalist 6% What is Your World View? created with QuizFarm.com

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that last picture. . . my mom's been asking for it forever and i keep forgetting to e-mail it.

this is my mother with penn, hours old. when we found out i was pregnant i called her first, knowing and needing her eccstatic reaction. we swaped pregnancy stories for nine months and i spent the first portion of my labor instant messaging her as we tried to decide if i was actually in labor. (looking back, labor is just so cool!) she got on the first flight out from michigan, my father and grandmother hopped in the car from arkansas and my whole blessed family was there, just in time to celebrate.


my mother is an amazing person. young, young at heart, wise, overflowing with compassion and a willingness to help. even when she doesn't have the energy, or doesn't really want to----if you need her, she'll be right there.


she's amazingly strong and resiliant. she moves on with determination and with or without answers or questions. she is fair and intuitive and so so beautiful.


we have a very cosmic relationship that gives proof to the nature side when debating nature vs. nurture. although my father raised me for most of my childhood, the connection between my mother and i is overwhelmingly strong. not only because i grew inside of her, which creates an indescribable bond, but also as if we're best friends. absolute best friends. no matter much time passes between us talking.


we do odd things at the same time too and many times on the exact day; getting haircuts, new glasses, food phases, things we notice phases . . . .in fact we both just got our haircut and we both thought about getting a certain cut, but opted for another. we once also got the same pair of new glasses at the same time from the same store. perhaps these examples sound trivial, but they are numerous and the decision making process are so similiar. we've often joked about letting someone study us.

if any of you knew penn when he was an infant infant, you know just how damned picky he was about the people in his presence and how especially damned picky he was about anyone holding him except for me. many times not even daddy could hold him. but my mom? he went to her as easy as he did to me.


when benji and i went to ny to work she came with to watch penn. although she wouldn't call it suffering, i'd say she and penn suffered LONG trips in cars and on subways for three days.


she lugged baby and stroller and went through every option to sustain penn's aggreableness over and over again. and we both made the same sound when penn figured out how a straw works for the first time. *gaasssspp!*


she's tiny and bold and amazingly intelligent. she told me i was reading by 3 or 4 and told me all the things she did to teach me. i also remember her teaching me the piano and speaking french.


her discipline really stands out in my mind. the worst thing any of us (i've a younger half sister and brother) could ever possibly do was to dissapoint her. to get that look. the one that is void of any anger, but simply says "i love you, but your actions have dissapointed me and so now you have to correct it." sometimes she'd make us walk to her and give out our hand which she would spat, omigod so lightly, and yet, we'd burst into tears and collapse on the floor. you'd wish for anger and a beating, 'cause surely that would be easier than enduring the fact that you dissapointed mom.


i have so much respect for my mother, the decisions she's had to make and her energy that makes everyone around her comfortable and in slight awe of the tiny little korean woman who makes a mean everything she cooks.


i always wanted to be just like her and miss her like crazy. i did learn i want to be just like myself, but that self happens to be a hell of a lot like my mother. i remember walking somewhere and my dad said, "your butt!" i said, "huh?" he said, "your butt. you've got your mom's butt." ha. now, if i could just get my mom's hair . . .


happy mothers day mom. thanks for remembering me, for being the most perfect mother, for being an amazing grandma jeanne, and for being a beautiful soul.

just like your edible panties

i am a snob. a book snob. i used to be a snob concerning all of the arts, especially music, but i thought i had done away with at least a good portion of the uncontrollable judgement my brain let loose in silent, internal furies against the ignorant illiterate masses.

but not too long ago i found myself on the receiving end of said snobitude. a very good and respected friend of mine said, with utter seriousness, "i wouldn't admit to anyone that you watched that ashlie simpson show."

*gasp!* i said nothing in defense as i realized, people shouldn't have to defend what they listen to, or watch on television. and strangely, i felt a sense of hurt and realized i had done that to people! i had made people feel less because they couldn't tell the difference between the BEATLES and THE MONKEY'S for cryin' out loud! (ahem*cough*benji).

and you know what? that's just not nice.

now i'm going to go somewhere that's going to make you feel as if i'm getting off subject. those are just feelings and should be logically canned away for a later and more useful use.

i worked at several (fifteen total, i think) bookstores over the course of five years. i was already reading a lot, not to mention a college student, but working at a bookstore where they frequently just give you free books, or giftcards for free books, let you check out books and don't forget that discount----well, all that made me a retail book expert.

i thought people were lying when they would return books saying they didn't realize they had already read them. i'm there now. i can't remember everything i've read.

i was working at the last bookstore when the davinci code came out.

"the boss" wanted the staff to read it and sell it (as if it needed help selling) so we could win the big "davinci code" selling contest. we won the contest, but i never read the book.

why? because (said through nose) i don't read genre mystery novels. i don't read genre novels at all really. i have read a grisham and a stephen king book. those count, i think. but if i hear word that you've read a mass market paperback romance book i will probably judge you. and it will probably be harsh. this is your only warning.

finally, i score the davinci code at half-price. i'd heard enough about it and needed to read it for myself. conviniently enough, benji had just borrowed the prequel from someone, "angels and demons."



i read the davinci code and damnit----i really liked it! it's a smart plot book and the real life landscape and theories just made me want to know more. the symbols also rave on and on about the sacred feminine and reiterates the origins of religion and how catholosicsm raped that for no good reason. fun fun fun!

i also read "angels and demons" which was appropriate as it's main focus is the conclave which was happening all over my tv while i was reading.

as i was about to finish "angels and demons" i went book shopping. books and ciggarettes. these are things i never allow myself to run out of. (i can now add diapers and apple juice to that list.) i was at borders, so i decided to look for a cheap book. i found myself in the mystery section checking out other dan brown novels. i decided on "deception point" for it's price, it's author, and because i figured it would be a quick read and i had a book due in from amazon at any moment.


what i did not count on was the fact that i was embaressed to walk through the store carrying this book with it's godawful cover announcing to the world that i was reading a mass market paperback mystery. i tried turning it over, setting it in the stoller . . . .i might as well have been carrying a pregnancy test and some edible underwear.

obviously, i am still a book snob. and apparently my judgemental friend and "the davinci code" have changed that a little, but not enough to, like, hold the book in any visible to the public kinda way.



that book that i was waiting on from amazon was "the unthinkable thoughts of jacob greene" by joshua braff, zach braff's brother (from "scrubs" and "garden state").

z. pimped this book a lot on his blog and i decided to bite. in one day i'm almost done. it's hilarious and slightly tragic and insightful and you should totally go get it right now. unless you're embaressed to carry around a real live contemporary fiction novel. then, you can just get it from amazon. it will come in a discreet cardboard box. just like your edible underwear.

i said "shit" four times. grandma's gonna love this one.

the landscapers put cow shit in our flowerbeds.

every time penn and i pass the flowers i say "peeee-eeeww!" and penn tries to bend over and smell his own butt to see if he went potty.

my sniffing escapades have taught penn that if he hears that anything stinks he needs to check his butt . . . . . and his feet. nothing cuter than a baby trying to stand and also get his toes to his nose, effectively knocking him on his ass. nothing cuter than the sound of his giggles when i tell him he has "stinky feet." burping and farting are also high on penn's funny list. ahhhh boys.

***this post brought to you by a comment i made at "hit me with your best shot."

back to the pie

last night mary came over bearing "lemony snicket's a series of unfortunate events" and vegan peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. we talked and talked and smoked outside 'till we smelled like barkeepers. i got my ass kicked at chess while we watched this wonderfully entertaining movie.

it's not going to change your life. but it is perfect. for what it is. the children are so good you forget their actors. (you can't, however, forget that jim carrey is jim carrey. i'm certain i'll never know how to feel about him.) the lighting and art direction and color correction and composition are GORGEOUS. simply spectacular. the editing too, i think is well done as well as the menus. just a lovely film, really and i look forward to the next three.

and for all that i traded her the rest of my chocolate silk pie and let her borrow my fave feminist books 'cause that mary, she'll burn a bra and eat testicles for dinner in a second.

currently working on:

this is page 13 of "dear son." currently page 13, anyway. the bulk of the book is together enough for me to see it's many faults so i've decided to tweak what i have in order to see what's missing. there's text to be edited and text to be broken down----which means designing more pages. i really don't want to settle for less than my best here. notice i said "my best" as it won't break any ground in the design world, though i don't think it will offend the eye any.

i look like an anime character, no?

*click picture to view full page*

chocolate silk pie

it should be something you have for dessert when out for dinner. it should be a rare treat to go with your latte at the coffee shop. it should not be sitting in your refrigerator taking up a whole pan. you are not the golden girls. you will not find yourself amongst other worried midnight hags in floral moo-moo's solving problems over cheesecake.

but alas. there is half of a chocolate silk pie sitting right here beside me. every bite i take i think, oh god that's way too sweet and rich. i can't eat another bite. (swallow. type.) mmmm, just one more bite.

i could totally barf right now. this chocolate silk pie will be the demise of my tummy which is currently in a state of "pretty-firm." i'd like to keep it that way, yet . . . .i keep pulling the damned thing out of the refrigerator!

i am not the golden girls, and i am not 16 which means: put the chocolate pie down!

no more. next person who walks through my door gets a free half pie. any takers?

color bars and annoying beep go here

your regularly scheduled blog reading has been interrupted by this picture of my dead bonzai/christmas tree . . .



and this picture of my yummy smelling lavender . . .


and this picture of a ladybug caught behind my blinds.

you may now return to your regularly scheduled blogging.