collectiveneurosis.com

i know i shouldn't go sending you all off to a website lacking the majority of it's content and needing so many little tweaks and clean ups here and there.

but many of you have been waiting to see the video proposal for a long time.

so here it is. well, first, collective neurosis is the name of benji's production company and i just made his website and got it up today. we still have to compress a lot of quicktimes, his reel, etc. if you click on the thumbnails you'll notice a big cheesy "coming soon" comes up. the picture in the middle of benji's head in the rear view mirror, is the link to the proposal.

grab your tissues. enjoy.

Fucker attacks

so i'm sitting at my computer, chatting with my friend brad when a giant fucking cockroach comes flying through the balcony door that i left open. giant fucking cockroach will be known from here on out as "The Fucker. "

now, i know, mimi, you might be reading this, and with all due respect i apologize for my language, but if you had seen the size of it, you'd call it a Fucker too, i just swear it.

huge. huge, i tell you. legs the size of my own. a massive brown shiny winged beast hurling itself blindly at my head. under normal circumstances i would have screamed. i would have screamed long and loud in much the same manner one would scream if their toes were being removed with a plastic spork.

but, the baby's predicament of slumber puts me on auto-silence. so i ran. i ran straight to the can of raid waiting protectively under my kitchen sink. maybe this is what people feel like when they stack semi automatics in their closet. for "protection."

i grabbed the raid and with utter lack of confidence i quickly stalked and soaked the Giant Fucker. cats be damned, move the hell out of the way or you will die a slow buggy death.

giant fucker entered convulsions under my coffee table. without looking i threw a dish towel over him. Giant Fucker is so giant i cannot bear to even imagine picking him up, feeling his hard buggish body beneath a paper towel with the potential to squirm and send me flying off into insanity.

my computer has a nice sheen of raid to it now. the house too reeks of "unscented."

when benji, master bug picker upper, came home, he found me crouched low on the couch peeking at catfish who was playing under penn's naughty stool. playing with a Giant Fucker, he was. yet, the towel that was supposed to be protecting me from the horrid, insanity flinging bug corpse, is still there and benji forgot to look under it to make sure it was the same Fucker.

how will i sleep?

i hate Fuckers.

memory

it is still with the greatest of effort i begin another round of deleting photos from my computer. only 4 percent of my computer is free right now, and it can't go on much longer. this laptop came from the generous hands of my father. well, not this one exactly, that other one crashed and bestbuy, due to its incompetance, gave me this one. i didn't get a choice in how much memory i could have. apparently, just because they ship your computer literally, to the four corners of north america and hand it over a month later still broken, doesn't mean you get to be picky.


so, somebody hire me soon so i can buy another drive. so that i can leave all this cuteness on my computer to browse at will.

he's testing the consistency of his discipline right now, with little swinging fists. although these swinging fists don't hurt, and i don't think he intends them to hurt, it is still considered hitting and that is not allowed. hitting will get you a quick trip to "the stool." it's funny, when he's sitting on the stool it doesn't appear that he is unhappy to do so. in fact, he apears a little, to my dismay, delighted. laughing, smiling, the whole lot.

today he came up behind me while i was drying my hair and hit me. i turned to him, a little confused, "did you just hit me?" he turned and walked away. i followed. before i got to him i heard him say "shoes." i saw him remove the pair of shoes that was sitting on the stool and sit down. without me asking him, he will go sit on the stool if he knows he's done something wrong. laughing and smiling.

he hit me earlier while sitting on the couch. "no hitting, " i said to him. "now you have to sit on the stool. he slid from the couch and made his way to the stool, stopping to turn and look at me. i pointed my finger and he broke into a run as if he was about to be clobbered.

i like having the pictures so ready at hand to browse through because i forget sometimes, with all this growth and language and attitude, that 19 months ago i was huge, standing on the bed in labor, reading a book to make sure i was in labor, while penn twisted and turned comfortably, turning my womb into an exit door.

carissabyers.com

godaddy.com and it's non control panel having, password problem creating, it's not us it's you saying, benji small web argument having, have called forth a small rage in me tonight.

however, i've purchased my namesake from them and you may now find me at carissabyers.com. i'm working on something for collectiveneurosis to go up as soon as possible.

overall consensus: netfirms=2 thumbs up. godaddy.com=suck it.

underneath

memphis is full of dreams. know how everyone runs off to hollywood to gamble on their face and talent hoping to have an adventure and a fancy car to impress the folks back home by christmas? memphis is like the bizzaro world equivilent.

memphis is the home of the blues. there are dirtier things and dirtier dreams and people do make it, telling these types of stories and telling them by any means possible. the history of memphis is a little fire of hope pushing people along. giving them something to talk about over the bbq. the mississippi river is right there, deep and wide. seems to inspire everyone who gets to see it.

musicians aren't the only ones out in the street singing stories. film is a pretty prevelent goal here filled with artists embracing the digital age and it's cost-effectiveness.

benji was one of these memphis cats. after earning his bachelors degree in fine art and sculpting he worked various jobs, including radio, but somewhere, too close to graduating, he realized, despite his massive talents, he didn't want to do it for a living. (enjoyed the conversation and free wine at art openings more than the art, he says.) he wanted to make movies.

without money, or professional training, benji did make movies. one feature film in particular called "the right questions" earning him critical claim across the states and especially in memphis.

one of his technical inspirations for making this film came from another memphis film cat named craig brewer. (left)

craig directed a film called "the poor and the hungry" in much the same gorilla way benji did, which was one of the inspirations benji got. the fact that craig could do it, and win hollywood film festivals, and find his name in magazines like premier as one of the top up and coming directors, etc., made the dream for a directing career look just that much closer.

i met craig at the premier of "the right questions" in memphis. it was a quick meeting, but he remembered me. he came into blockbusters on poplar a lot, where i worked and we'd chat it up about this and that and i never made him pay late fees. he knew i was a writer and involved in film and with benji and asked if i would read a script he was working on called "hustle and flow."

seeing as he was a local famous person and all i was really excited to see what he looked like in print. the next day i got to work and he had dropped off the script in a white binder. i read it and we talked about it on the phone a bit. honored, and maybe a little nervous, is the word to describe my feeling. really, i don't think you can find anyone that has one bad thing to say about the man. he's just nice.

still didn't talk to him much, other than at work. he gave me an invite to his slammin' halloween party, which i went to with brandon. the most important thing i got to do that night was talk all night with buddy wakefield. he's a fucking phenominal poet, i swear to god. and when he left someone asked me if i knew who i was talking to. "no," i said. "bud-dy wake-field." they said it slowly with a bit of teasing and shock, as if i had been sitting there having a beer with big bird, and i should know better.

well. thank god for that halloween party, as i might have never discovered such wonderful words. and thank god for all that buddy was drinking that night, as he might not have ever talked to me. ha.

if you've turned on your tv lately, you've probably noticed that "hustle and flow" has left the confines of that little white binder and won itself a sundance audience award and a great big distribution and marketing campaign. it has saturated the talk shows. and all of memphis plus me feels very proud of craig.

benji and i went last night. the theatre was packed. we had to sit on the second row. there were a couple of old white couples, bless their hearts, who obviously heard the npr broadcast.

i'm not sure what i really think of the movie. i want to like it because it's craigs and that sort of skews my opinion. i think that the cinematography, lighting, and color were wonderful. i think the accents were too thick and unconvincing. the humour and dialogue delivery were good. i think i didn't really care too much about the story as a whole, though. i did laugh out loud a lot.

and this girl to the left made me cry. damn she's good.

everything looked exactly as i saw it in the script, which is always good. craig is an excellent and delicate writer.

i went looking for the script he had given me years ago. i thought it would be neat to look over, to say i owned. apparently in the memphis moving purge i told you about a couple posts back, i threw it out.

tonight i moved all the stuff out of my photography binder into a bigger one. i tore the label off the spine.

underneath it read: craig brewer.

get oozey

last night mary and i headed out for my "one evening to myself a week." (which started last night.) i trekked to starbucks and then on to "charlie and the chocolate factory." the original was the first movie i think my mother ever rented for me.

somehow i pushed a lot of younger memories into a one lump day. i'm no longer certain exactly when they occured. but, on the day of my first willy wonka experience, i had pigtails and was wearing something pink. mom's willard took pictures of us. we walked to the dock where we once went fishing using cheese as bait. my uncle came over, i think it was, and willard and he sat at the table and talked. i watched the movie. i think all of my cousins were there? i remember a pile-up on the bed, for some reason. later willard played "i'm too sexy" by right said fred.

(ummm, people? right said fred has a current website. this means something, i just don't know what. . . . )

could he have possibly played it on vinyl? maybe not, but somewhere i think they had records. willard and i have had two discussions in my lifetime about music; "right said fred" and "enigma."

i liked the movie then. i liked it more because my mom rented it for me and watching television was a special thing to do at her house compared to the amount of tv that was on at my dad's.

lowe's cineplex gave me the "student rate" and a free drink! i couldn't resist getting a wonka bar for the occasion.

the film is phenominal. exquisite. a thoroughly enacted vision by tim burton. well done! i think i smiled throughout the entire film. the whole damned thing. the art direction, i think exceeds perfection. as does, i think the acting.

i could point out two things i didn't like. a couple weird cuts in the boat down the chocolate river action scene and johnny depps space outs. depps lapses into the past were slightly unconvincing for some reason. i feel like maybe if i were burton i would have asked for various takes on it to flesh it out more. the make-up and lighting was really amazing, though it bothered me that everyone was so smooth compared to cakey depp.

and that's what a communications major with an emphasis in film will get you. buckets of things no one else notices or cares about that will bother you to no end.

all in all, 12 thumbs up. there is a deep artistic vein oozing out of the celluloid. a very happy ooze. kinda like that piece of wonka bar i dropped in my lap that melted into a frontal pooh-like stain.

purge

when i moved from memphis to dallas, i had only a 97 black honda civic to tote my belongings from elvis land to bush territory. so i crammed it full and what wouldn't fit i left by the dumpster. this included paintings, furniture, clothes, everything. i later discovered that my roommate, dave, rescued the art and one is now hanging in his office.

i couldn't leave my cd's of course, but i also couldn't fit them in my car. at least not in their cases. so i trashed the cases and stuck them all in a gigantic holder.

benji and i slept on a borrowed air mattress for a year. and for the past two years we have had one cd tower of cd's whose cases i didn't throw away, for whatever reason (c'mon. am i really supposed to throw beatles cases away?)

well. for the past, oh, how old is he again?, 19 months, it has been penn who has enjoyed that cd tower. the one that was once so analy arranged, alpha by band or artist first name, until it fell over a gazillion times. the one that was full mostly of my favorites until penn started pulling them out and stepping on them. and breaking a good bit. (goodbye, beatles white album disc number 2. farewell nirvana unplugged.)

yesterday i got fed up and said to hell with the damned tower and the damned cases and i went out and bought another 200 count cd holder.




















penn and i came home and commenced gutting cd cases. we filled two whole foods bags. we also played cd case basketball, cd case puzzle and cd case building blocks.

i now have two enormous cases. (and one little one for the car) there wasn't time to organize them with baby feet pattering about, so i just shoved them in. but it's really interesting to take your music collection in like that.

i've a binder filled with obsessions (ani difranco, beatles, ben harper, weezer, smashing pumpkins . . . .), classics (bob marley. . .), one timers (marcy playground. . .), locals (sj, bagg. . .), freebies from work ("a gift of love II oceans of ecstasy. . .") and a couple what the hell was i thinking-'s? (ben lee, that second dido album, that other david gray album . . .)

and i have a special delivery cd tower to the dumpster in the morning. unless some dallasite would like to claim it.

i love purging. though there are the sometimes splurges, i am mostly a basic needs kinda girl. i've already bags of stuff ready to donate to the shelter tomorrow. funny. if i had more time, i'd have nothing.

my ty

(click pic to enlarge)

my mom e-mailed me a pic of my 'lil bro today and i yelled to benji sitting in the papazan nest, "benji, c'mere! look at my brother! he's like, fine!"

benji untangled himself from the nest and the baby to look at the pic. he said two things:

1. "omigod, it's you."
2. "that's weird that you called your brother 'fine.'"

to clarify, my brother is the tall skinny guy in the middle holding a sweet aqua guitar. and yes, now that we have the same haircut we bare striking resemblence. according to the picture anyway. and no, it's not weird that i think my brothers cute.

my mother stamped her looks all over her children, though we all sort of picked it up in different ways. i have my mothers tiny body. my sister, i think has her eyes. my brother has everything except he's probably three feet taller than her. we also range in skin tones. i'd say my sister and i compete for the fairest, though we'll never know until she gets her ass out of the tanning bed. *ahem. hint hint.* ty, lucky bastard, inherited that lovely brown korean skin.

i owe my sister an e-mail and a visit since i missed her high school graduation. i owe my brother a conversation. my bro's much younger than me and i've yet to totally have a real or long conversation with him. i changed his diaper though, and fed him apple sauce, and when he was a toddler and fell down and got a "boo boo" he'd run to me for a hug, confusing me with mom in the midst of an agonizing skinned knee. or something.

he's a genius, yo. cute, smart and fashion sense.

maybe i'll get to jam out with him when i go back to michigan.

song titles are just more things for me to forget

today, as i coasted up slowly to the redlight of mckinney and fitzhugh, a good song came on. i swore i'd remember the name of it. it's one of those feel-good 70's (?) songs that black gay men sing on american idol. alas, it escapes me.

penn liked it though. he was bobbing his head and doing that mock finger snap thing of his, so of course i joined in. without warning i launched into all out head bobbing, loud singing and arms out dancing in the car at the redlight.

a blue sportscare drove by with a really handsome guy hanging his head out of the window, passing me to stop one car length up. i thought he'd hit something seeing as his carefully groomed head was jerked out the window like a cocker spaniel.

i stopped all the nonsense immediatley and pretended to do something with the seat. or the radio. or the embaressment written across my face.

i glanced back at penn as the guy continuied to stare at me via window and mirror, clearly and overtly flirting. i was flattered and red-faced and smiley and had an overwhelming urge to say, "don't waste your time. i have a baby. he's right there in the back seat covered in peanut butter cracker crumbs. that wasn't me being cool, that was my body being controlled by the child who wishes silliness at all times. i am weak."

but, why destroy the fantasy, eh?

especially when a cute sportscar guy is willing to hold up a whole middle lane of traffic to watch you pass.

circus daze

if you did not buy your tickets for the circus at ticketmaster you will have to walk through the fifteen dollar parkinglot, around all of the 20,000 seat american airlines center to wait in line and then buy tickets while your baby screams because the crane he's watching work across the street suddenly has to move giant wheeled machines far into the air and behind the half-constructed building where he can't see it. you'll then have to walk all the way back around the 20,000 seat american airlines center, through guards and metal dectors and have your bag and camera searched. the whole time you're just hoping you can take your drink in.

you'll be just a few minutes late. you will get to take your drink in.

i truly expected a big top. a big striped tent with a dirt floor and creaky bleachers and a bad sound system with a distorted sounding announcer. benji chuckled, "they moved to indoor arena's even before my dad joined the circus.

well.

i somehow didn't like the idea of giant elephants, and the baby elephant, having to stomp through even more unnatural habitat that should be reserved for basketball players and rock stars.

smiley gentle people greet us at the door with pamphlets. "have a nice day." benji, holding the baby, said, "sorry dude, no hands." as we walked away i hear him say, "that's okay. have a nice day anyway." as if he were the distibutor of "nice days" and had granted benji a pass.

as we rounded the corner i discovered the pamphlet was asking us to boycott ringling brothers because of their mistreatment of animals citing an ex-trainer for the circus who told stories of how the animals were beaten and he couldn't take it anymore. "if it won't sink in, then beat it in," were apparently his words of instruction. one lion died of heat because the driver of the train wouldn't stop it for someone to check on him while they crossed the dessert and the animals were trapped inside closed cars in 100 degree weather.

this is all, of course, paraphrased, because i accidently threw it away. go here for similar stories.

penn was entranced for the entire two hour show. he totally sat there, just like the above, only moving to point and say adorably, "oh wooow!"

as a whole, we had a blast. all the way there benji listed off things we had to do or buy. "a balloon, penn! you'll just have to get a balloon! and something that lights up! and funnel cake! well, it's not a circus without a funnel cake!"

me? i wanted cotton candy. but cotton candy was NINE DOLLARS! everything was priced above even an exaggerated thought. there were no balloons to be bought, light up things were 18 dollars and they didn't have funnel cake. but the airlines center sold turkey legs so benji and penn ate like neanderthalls off a giant fried dead bird leg. and me? well i was starving due to the lack of cotton candy in my belly, so yes, yes, i partook of the neanderthall party.

my dad's gonna love that.

i took a gazzillion pictures, but i think i'm going to save them for the photoblog, updated one photo per day. so check there for the visual circus extravaganza.

my take on circus'? i still don't know. i didn't know when i was little and holding my dad's hand as he led me into the dirt floored big top with creaky bleachers and bought me cotton candy and i don't know now that i'm toting my own mini-me into a gigantic electric arena. i suppose i'll never know. and i suppose i'll still ride that line that writes congressmen begging them to investigate the treatment of circus animals, and pays $17 bucks to watch the ones that didn't die on the train.

i urge you to follow these links, and then follow what you feel.

• circuses.com
• circus watch.com
• 12 elephants to be placed with proven animal beaters
• help thai elephants
• no more monkey business
• buck the rodeo
• wildlife pimps
• save wild elephants

new new new

i am not a stale person. i want new new new all the time. it's a lovely outlook, the neverending quest, albeit a passive one lately, for a new experience. it's however quite frustrating to spend time putting together a whole new website only to hate it four weeks later.

there is a new look at my photography site. it's slightly under construction as i search and destroy broken links and screwy sizes and add a bit of this and that here and there. (feel free to e-mail all observations as to what it looks like on your end) but it's mostly done. alot of the newness is undercover for clients eyes only with new online previews and the ability to access contracts, wedding shot lists, etc. online to print, sign and return to me. new and improved portfolios in fancy flash albums are on display. they're huge and need to be weeded down. that's always the hard part for me.

and, if you're a returning visitor, you've noticed the new blog design! high school comrade ginger, at babyjaneblogs, graciously and quickly implimented my own design! i can't thank her enough for the swift, kind and hard work she put in that allowed me to be as personal as possible with the look of my blog. i've already called her personally, e-mailed her a tragizillion times and harrassed her via instant messenger. there are a few tiny things to tweak, but it's pretty done too. ginger's amazing and affordable and sweet and beautiful and one of the main reasons i started blogging in the first place, so all you's with ugly blogs, go check her out.

3:38a.m. sleep.

big top little benji

long story short, benji's mom, before she was benji's mom, ran away and joined the circus. dealing with bouts of depression and looking for reasons to live, she decided that having a baby was the answer. she met a tall black man on a unicycle, walked up to him, and said, "will you make me a baby?" the man, ted, said yes and nine months later became benji's father.


inside benji, along with all that other stuff that runs through veins, is circus blood. it's a proud beast with a big head. it can also do flips and tricks and rarely runs out of things to make you laugh.

benji's dad is one of the founding fathers of the king charles troupe. you'll all know about them soon enough when the documentary that benji is filming finds the funds for finishing touches. (rich people, send your money here)

benji can ride a unicycle and even has a tiny unicycle he rode when he was little, which penn of course will inherit and learn to ride on. i too get to learn. it's one of those things. and i like things like that.

now, i tell you all that to say this. we're going to the circus tomorrow! i've mixed feelings about the circus. learning benji's heritage, watching the hour rough cut of the documentary, and listening to so many stories creates a sort of fondness and awe in me. the other part feels really awful for the animals, caged, shipped around, and made to do unatural things for my buck.

i also tell you now as an excuse to show you these adorable pictures of baby benji.

really though, cute huh? the camera's coming tomorrow and benji's asked me to treat it as a photojournalistic experience so that he can have the reference circus stuff for the king charles documentary. expect an eyefull tomorrow.

but, i shampooed all the carpets today

this sweet, go-with the flow person you know as moi used to exist 22 hours a day, 7 days a week. and then, one day, it happened. although i had previously shunned and mocked the congregation of pms, i am now, like, a deacon or something. at least a choir leader.

it's all internal, for the most part, blasting out only in little warning lava splatters onto benji and penn, just to remind them that deep inside their little mama lives an active volcano.

i'd say pms is different for every woman, mentally and physically. for me, it takes all those things i say in my head and uncontrollably leads them out of my mouth. suddenly everything is annoying and i begin wanting things i can't have, or shouldn't have, or wouldn't want if i were hormonally sane. a small roll of unpreventable fat grows overnight across my stomach. it looks bigger from my angle than it does from yours.

isn't he adorable? want him? i mean, just for a couple of hours? he does dishes, takes out the trash and plays a mean harmonica.

i need a baby break. there are seriously important things i have to do, for me, for benji for clients, for art, for my sanity, and ummm, i've no get-up and go. just a sick gurgling annoyance.

the verdicts are in: 1) moved. 2) extended nanny position. 3) in l.a. so i need a babysitter for tomorrow night. or maybe a willing participant to travel to denton so that i can talk benji into staying home. i also need a plan and motivation and a space that doesn't include dirty dishes, a baby, or other distractions so that i can bust out these next gigs which are all design things.

and i need a friend who is magically available all the time.

if my soul had a sound, it would sound like this

blogging friend cat made reference to "round here" by counting crows today. and when i hear the words "counting crows" my adolescence creeps up around me and holds me in the memory of my pontiac sundance, red on top, grey on bottom, dented from here to there, windows down, consumed with longings for every aspect of life that a 17-ish year old can't have yet, and the album "august and everything after" cranked as loud as crappy pontiac speakers will allow until the right one finally bursts and you have to pan everything over to the right to hear it. (by the way, that is also the case of the speakers in my current honda civic.)

oh, don't forget the wind in the hair part. if one is to use a cliche' it should be fleshed out to hallmark standards, i think.

it's a perfect album from start to finish. each song, perfect from start to finish. each set of lyrics, a story in themselves, and a universal story that relates to the universe, listener included.

my favorite song on the album is "anna begins." to repeat myself, what i said to cat in response to her post was:

"love that song. love that album. could listen to it over and over, crooning as it rips my heart out and stomps it into mush. can’t say: “love that album and that song” enough times. really. must go put it in now i love it that much."

but i couldn't find that album. i have so many cd's i long ago purged their cases in two hefty bags and stored the remains in a space saving zippered case. the aftermath is something that is now quite dissoriented. so i went to i-tunes and downloaded it.

though not one for covering artists myself, i've always wanted to play "anna begins" but, if you've heard the song, and you really should go hear it, right now, you know that it's his song. he of the gorgeous hair and hypnotizing eyelashes topped only by his amazing ability to sing me a story. the song is severely stamped with his luscious timing. sometimes things should just be left alone.

but oh, if he only knew how this song pulls at my very molecules! he wouldn't care. i heard he's actually an asshole. i don't know him. but i'd like to defend that remark, if only for the sake of my fantasies.

i'll keep it on repeat and give it a go sometime soon. maybe.

i don't want your pictures.

photo-restoration. i don't know if i've ever really discussed what i can do in this realm. it's neat to see the kinds of things people want restored. this picture is hilarious. the client wanted it "fixed." the two people on the ends cut out their husbands. HA! i wasn't sure what "fixed" meant, and the drop-off and instructions were hurried and vague, but this is what i did.


ta da! what i learned from this: clients are to give me a digital file via e-mail or cd. they are not to give me the actual picture. repeat: are NOT to give me the actual picture.

as well as restoring old or partically destroyed pics, i can turn peoples "snapshots" into something that looks like a professional portrait. not as much fun as actually taking the pics, though.

pretty in my head

last night daniel said, "you should have a photoblog." i told him i didn't have time to maintain my regular blog and photography website. but the word "photoblog" was like a little bug, eating away.

yesterday benji, penn and i went to eat and then to the speedway go-cart/golf/arcade/fun-o-rama place. i shot all evening for fun. and i realized, that's what i would put on a photoblog. fun stuff. i've needed a break for a while to work on things for me which is why i think i'm on this manic drive to get a new website design up as well as a new blog design. sure, it's keeping me up late due to fits of moronic perfectionism. which it won't be, so don't get your hopes up. as well as my struggle through computer knowledge. why or why didn't i stay in that class in college?

but i'm need of re-charging. the few times i'm able to get out of the house minus the baby fuels me.

last night i went to a show. and missed it. i could have sworn it said till 11:00. instead i got to sit in a bar amongst people i admire. on the way home i wrote a poem while i waited at stoplights. and now, i've started a photoblog.

i had a failed attempt at movable type and am trying out typepad instead. because it's not a free service, i may or may not keep it. but, for the next thirty days of my free trial please enjoy with me "carissabyers. the photoblog."

ah. geez.

because of london, because of 9/11, because of everything, we all have to make conscious efforts to live without fear. the programming continues as officials urge us to "go about our daily life" because not so suddenly that's not the only option.

i turned on the television to check on the sky that had turned black. instead, i saw a ticker across the bottom of my screen reading, "33 dead." the visuals that played out and the faces of shock and bandages made me say, "ah geez, that's terrible."

"ah. geez. that's terrible." and that's all i have to give? that's my reaction? live news, no different than half the movies out there. all they needed was a good soundtrack and a romance. i find the desensitization, and the realization of that desensitization, disturbing. i used to think it was a "young" reaction. one that told i had not experienced first hand bombs in my back yard. one that had not lost anyone close to me via a car bomb. and now i feel it's an "old" reaction. one that says, i've heard this before.

the details so big my brain runs and hides in generalities; so-and-so hates so-and-so because of this-and-that which probably happened one hundred years ago. so they blow whatever up and make their points in body counts.

and just what is their point? would it help if i knew? knowledge is power. knowledge. all those people hurt and tramatized and dead in the name of something they probably know as much about as me.

and when i think bombs i think terrorists and then i think war and then i think bush. mulling over that thought i pulled the hypothetical government issued microchip out of my head and read: "bush in the war on terror. in god we trust."

i wonder what it all boils down to. respect? tolerance? i'm becoming a rascist. i'd like to put all of those with guns,weapons of mass destruction etc. together for a nice big fireworks display.

the undercurrent of energy flowing through so many minds is squeezing harder. i say fight ideals with ideals because that kid that was killed on the tube didn't win anything.

nothing.

but, you know, don't forget to go about your daily life. just try and forget about that kid, will ya. go buy something. that'll take your mind off of it.

photo copyright carissa byers 2005

consumer report

after not trying or buying anything new in a while, my father kicked off this post by bringing into my home something to aide my obsessive complex with clean floors. might i add, that obsession alone will not shine a floor nor will it get that juice stain out. (yes, we're still in that stage.) but this will!


despite it's residence in the closet, it's a member of the family. i've used many a rug doctor since penn brought his mess into this world. rug doctor's work better, i think, with their cleaning solution and rotating brush, but this one works very well for it's convenience and price! thanks so much dad!

mary and i had a skin care discussion that involved using "toners." i couldn't remember the last time, if there ever was one, that i tried such a product. our conversation led me to start looking for one.



i love it. my oil-slick of a face, loves it!

half the time i was packing for canada i was on the phone with mary: "what kind of shampoo do you use? mmmkay, i'll use that. deoderant?" so mary uses this facewash that i "borrowed." now, i use soap. plain ole soap for my face. but, using something "special" felt new for a bit, so i got the matching facewash to go with the toner.



this too is a winner.

when we packed to come home i packed my toiletries in mary's bag ('cause dirty clothes are twice as big, yo). when we went to retrieve them a couple days later penn got to play with a toy farm that he seemed to really enjoy. i realized he had no "pretend" toys like this. since it rained all day today we had to find indoor things to do, one of which being a trek to toys r us. i decided on this toy train set for only $9.99!



i thought i was buying a manual train track, with perhaps magnets in it that made things move or something. it's a bitch to put it together. benji came home in the middle of the repeated assembly by me and destruction by penn. then i realized a battery was required. we put it on the track and immediatley realized it could do cool things. after the 5th try we figured it out, got things pointed in the right direction, and as it moved benji and i were jumping up and down with excitement.

this is the coolest toy. one base truck moves under a dump truck and a scooper thing carrying the one it needs (wears it like a hat) and scoops and dumps and rolls rocks everywhere, goes up and down an elevator and works a big scoop thing.

one truck! seriously. if you have children, i swear, this is the funnest 10 bucks you'll spend on them this month.

they also had this on sale:



remember penn's doll fetish and the hunt for a "manly doll." well, caillou isn't all that manly, but he is a boy and he talks and he was only 7 dollars and penn thinks he's great! he washed his face and hands and fed him some juice tonight while benji and i played with his toy train.

last, but not least, if your benji gets nectarines thinking they're peaches, and they're not all that great of a nectarine anyway, and then they get a little too ripe, you can blend them up with blueberries, (maybe a banana) yogurt, apple juice and soy milk and it is soooo good. i love how limitless the smoothie is and how i can get so much fruit and calcium in my kid in one glass. penn and i have had a smoothie every day at home since he learned how to drink from a straw.

no no, one more thing. you know those hershey chocolate ice cream toppings that come out liquid and then freeze on the ice cream? yeah, i've been eating the reese's topping on frozen vanilla yogurt every night this week.

O Canada: The Wedding

Another wedding story! This one's a little more personal, though since I flew all the way to Quebec to not only photograph a very memorable wedding, but also to meet Cat in person. Until last week i had only known her via the internet.


There was a bbq where they graciously purchased simulated chicken flavored tofu burgers for us veg heads. Every time cat said it, she said it slowly and with hesitation, as if she were sounding out something in Hungarian. Shawn, a.k.a. grill master, came in to ask when veggie burgers were done. I said, "when they're hot." The bbq was lovely and so were our hot simulated chicken flavored tofu burgers.


The next day was the pre ceremony. Seeing as how getting to all the places I would normally take pictures at to document a wedding involved lots of walking, subways, and leaving the boy away from me longer than he had ever experienced before, we agreed i would just meet them at the wedding site, Thompson House, Mcgill University.


Cat was gorgeous and glowing.


And wearing very cool wedding sneakers.


Here is flower-girl/dog, annie whom nobody could keep their hands off of.


We anxiously awaited 3:30. Cat pranced around and made sure we all knew what time it was. . . .every five minutes.


Shawn, ever so dapper, (below that jacket is a kilt!), seemed so calm and ready to meet his bride.


What I learned about Shawn is that he is the king of comic relief. I figured that he was funny and witty by reading his blog, but it completely transcends into real life. Here he is, egging on the cameras. literally every time he opens his mouth I laugh.


Then there were the vows.

Good god, people, the vows. They each wrote their own. Cat had her's memorized. Shawn did too. And when it was his turn to verbally proclaim his love he reached inside his jacket pocket, turned to the guests and said, "Up until i now i had this memorized. I seem to have blanked out. pardon me, as I read this."

This is shawn's vow, word for word, as i asked him for a copy of it:

Hey Pookie. Even though I'm writing this all cool and collected right now, I'm sure I'm going to get all emotional as soon as I look into your eyes. Don't hold it against me if I get a little weepy.

It's funny, no matter how many people are in a room with us, no matter who they are, strangers, friends or family, I always feel like we're alone together. Even right now, I can close my eyes, and it's like there's nobody else here but you and I. Even with my eyes perfectly shut, I can always seem to see you. No matter where you are, how far away, my heart always seems to find you.

This second, this one particular moment, is something I'll carry with me for the rest of our lives. But, when I remember it, it's just going to be the two of us. That's how you make me feel. Like everything else doesn't matter. So tomorrow, and the next day, and every day after that, when I think of this day, it's going to be this one moment. Just the two of us, looking into each other's eyes, with the rest of the world faded into the background. For me, just being with you is perfection.

Cat, you are my love, my life, my other half. You've always been. No matter what life may bring, that's the one complete truth we both can rely on. I promise to love you for all of forever, as best as I can, with all of my heart.

Surely, this will be one of the most beautiful things I'll ever hear someone say to someone else in my whole lifetime. I cried and cursed the difficulty tears made it to focus. In fact, typing this, a tear comes to my eye, just remembering how much in love they are.


A photo first for me, I managed to get a photo of everyone who came to the wedding! I think I shall add this to the wedding repetoire.


Cat and her sister have a traditional pose they do at grand functions. And I got to take it this time.


The reception was held in a round room of windows. The lighting was this weird mixture of being good and backlit all at the same time.


I thought it was beautiful and hated that damned pole the whole time for being in my way.


Aren't they perfect!


Their cake topper is a wookie and, umm, someone with a light saber. Cut out photos added a nice personal effect. For the life of me I could not get a really good picture of this. It was a tall cupcake tower, people.


And cat didn't have to make it. (I can't believe, cat, that you were really going to make 300 cupcakes yourself!)


There was dancing, of course, and my favorite was 92 year old Pop Pop, here, dancing with his chair because he didn't have a partner. (Yes, we found him a partner. Even I volunteered.) I love Pop Pop. Really, I do.


Monkey took our picture. There's me, with my first internet friend to meet in person. And I just love her! And Shawn! Through and through because as individual people they're amazing and witty and smart and cynical and as a couple, they're a force to be reckoned with. I can't
wait to go back someday and be able to talk and stuff. You guys are the best! Thank you for flying me such a long long ways so that I may scare and distract you in person with my strange pop up flashy thing.