Sun., July 28, 2002
You never truly realize how much crap you have until you try to cram it all into boxes.
For me this is an understatement. I collect everything from Bettie Page photos and comics to creepy big-eyed dolls of the '70s. I have 1 1/2 mannequins, a zillion books and CDs, rubberstamps, craft supplies galore, Last Supper Jesus dinner plates, furry pillows, computer stuff, two electric guitars, a lifesize Scooby/Shaggy cardboard standup, Tiki mugs, TV, stereo, a vinyl record collection of the best '80s music around (don't mock me for my Culture Club interview picture disc) and a million other things I can't think of right now.
The saddest part of my moving is having to take down all the construction paper art installations around my apartments. I still haven't taken down the Trix rabbit portrait yet. I don't have the heart to do it myself.
But in a way this is a great opportunity to purge myself of stuff I've been dragging around since high school. I only kept 1/3 of my clothes and gave the rest to Goodwill. Some lucky lass will be wearing my faux snake skin pants in San Fran soon, I'm sure. I kept about 7 pair of my favorite platforms and snazzy shoes, and gave the rest (15 pairs) to Goodwill.
Let me stress the importance of giving everything you don't need to Goodwill. I made a lame attempt to sell back some of my more impressive clothing items to Crossroads (a hipster used clothing store in SF) and was severely dissed. Seriously, they got all snooty on me like they were the founding members of Sonic Youth or something.
HER: "We're not interested in those kinds of clothes."
ME: "But this is where I bought them in the first place!"
I don't get it. Where does this attitude from retail sales people come from? There's no high horse to be on in used clothing. It's not like this girl was Betsy Johnson, so why did she treat me like some clueless fashion victim? Sheesh. Whatever. I get better karma vibes from the folks at Goodwill anyway. So there.
Any books, music or toys I plan to part with will probably end up for sale on Half.com or eBay. Anyone want a dusty nun doll?
Thurs, July 25, 2002
Funniest Photo of the Week:
Megan Harris of Dallas, TX loves Grrl.com so much that she made this hilarious altered Photoshop photo of what she thinks I do when I go to the grocery store.
By the way, that's not my body. I'd kill for fake boobs like those. And I'd never have the guts to go out in public with curlers in my hair.
Wed, July 24, 2002
Dumb Move of the Day:
I got up early to drive from Santa Cruz to San Francisco (2 hour drive) so I could start packing up all my crap -- and I do have a ton of crap -- to take a car load to my digs in Santa Cruz and guess what?
I forgot my apartment key. So I had to drive home empty-handed, angrily muttering to myself. Ugh.
Tues, July 23, 2002
Mail Art Meets Exercise:
Thanks to ModernGypsy in Seattle, I'm quickly learning all about an interesting new hobby that mixes scavenger hunts, hiking and rubberstamping. It's called Letterboxing and if this doesn't get me to climb big hills, I don't know what will.
To get started, make your own logbook or journal and a personal rubberstamp that signifies who you are. Then check the Letterboxing site or the Letterboxing USA Yahoo Group for boxes in your neck of the woods. When you find one you want to contribute to, simply pack a backpack filled with your logbook, your personal rubberstamp, some pens and ink pads.
Hike to the site by following the clues given and find the letterbox. Inside you'll probably find a guestbook to sign, date and rubberstamp. There will also be another rubberstamp in the box for you to stamp and date your own logbook. Then you put the guestbook and stamp back. Replace the box in its hiding spot, and trek back home.
I can't wait to try it!
More fun info:
They Live and Breathe Letterboxing article
Fri, July 19, 2002
After spending the last 10 years writing for Web-driven journalism for dotcoms, I've decided to halt the quest a computer day job, and start my education as a horticulture student. No joke. I'm headed back to college.
I've realized that I've been fed up with the market for Web editors (what market?) and I need to make a change. I want a career that gets me outside and my hands dirty. I want to design gardens and to inspire people to get out and plant tasty herbs and breathtaking flowers. Yup, that's the plan.
In the past year since I was laid off from Winamp.com, I've been experimenting, researching and learning all about gardening. I have a thriving container garden and more houseplants than my boyfriend knows what to do with. (Poor guy.)
I'm excited to get up every morning and see what's growing in the backyard. I painstakingly go through each of my gardening books looking up plant names, lore, uses, growing tips and harvesting techniques. I know when to use bloodmeal, bonemeal, bat guano, green sand, charcoal, lime, fish emulsion, earthworm castings and other soil amendments. And I'm the gal to talk to about mulch! So I figure if I get so excited making a compost bin from scratch or propogating wild lavender, I must be cut out to be a gardener. Right?
My pal Sharon and I are signing up for horticulture classes at the local community college here in Santa Cruz where I plan to seriously hit the books and turn my brain into a big sponge. For the first time, I think I'm actually excited about the topic I'll be studying. Who cares if I'm 30 and diving into a brand new career? I'm happy and thrilled to see what can happen if I follow this path. Farming runs in my family, and if I'm half the gardener my mom is then I know I'll be a success.
Mon, July 15, 2002
The 30th birthday shindig was a huge success!
A few party highlights:
Fri, July 12, 2002
Happy Birthday to Me:
Now that I'm 30, I figured it would be a good time to assess my past accomplishments
Thurs, July 11, 2002
It's the day before my 30th birthday and I'm pretty jazzed about surviving another decade intact. No, I'm serious. My 20s sucked. I had lousy relationships with moody musicians who were more interested in their "fans" than their girlfriend. My quest to be a worthwhile writer took a detour into dotcom land where I was a millionaire (on paper) one year and back to Ramen the next (now).
I did manage to make some lifelong pals, and have some great tales to tell about drinking with B-grade stars in seedy NYC & SF bars. So I guess it's not all bad. In my 20s, I seemed to have practically every job imaginable: party DJ, corset model, bagel server, waitress, dishwasher, factory worker, radio music director, rave dancer, record store clerk, Webmaster, editor, reporter, secretary, music VJ, relationship columnist and horoscope writer.
Now I'm just working on a book and trying to make ends meet with my various freelance writing gigs. But I look forward to what my 30s will bring. Maybe that clarity and sense of purpose will kick in finally. Just don't suggest motherhood, or I'll ban you from the message board.
Anyway, I guess I'm just glad I got through it all in one piece. Thanks goes out to those of you who put up with all my 20-something emotional freakouts, my apathetic philosophies (or idealistic depending on the battle) and of course my neverending worrying about the small stuff. You know who you are.
So long 20s, here comes another decade. This outta be good.
Wed, July 10, 2002
I'm so easily irritated today. I think it's a combo of the heat and a nasty case of procrastination. I had a crappy lunch and sat on my butt wishing I could get rid of my writer's block. I think I was mostly annoyed by all the noise in the house.
Why can't it be National "Shut the Hell Up" Month EVERY month?
Tues, July 9, 2002
Nothing tastes better on a hot day then some Thai Iced Tea.
1 gallon water
Boil water. Add star anise, orange flowers, vanilla, clove, cinnamon, and tea leaves to boiling water. Continue boiling for 3 to 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Cover and allow to steep until luke warm. Strain, and add sugar to taste. Serve in a clear glass over plenty of crushed ice. Top with half & half.
You can find this recipe with variations here.
Fri, July 5, 2002
My Future in a Nutshell:
Remember the game MASH? Basically, I bet every girl growing up during the '70s and '80s does. You list your favorite 4 cars, homes, honeymoon spots, possible spouses, number of kids, etc. Then by a series of crossing stuff out, someone can determine your destiny. By the way, MASH stands for the first series of where you want to live: Mansion, Apartment, Shack, House.
Now you can play this
game online without seeking a fourth-grade girl.
Here are my results:
You live in a Apartment.
Mon, July 1, 2002
Airplanes make me cranky:
Here's the scene. I was travelling from Nebraska to Phoenix, and then on to San Jose. No problemo. I had some magazines in hand and a good book ( Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood, actually. Yeah I know - I'm such a girl.). So I was ready for anything.
After I loaded up on coffee, and we boarded the last plane to San Jose, I had figured this traveling thing was a snap. More like snapping my last nerve.
Just as we landed in San Jose, our friendly Ken-doll like pilot informed us that due to a "breach in security" our terminal was emptied and everyone in the airport had to be rechecked through the security gate. This meant no planes could dock at the gate. And of course this meant we weren't getting off th plane anytime soon. Fifteen other planes were ahead of us to be emptied out.
Everyone got on their cell phones and whined. Let me tell you -- a few folks complaining about the same thing on their cell phones is one thing, but the entire plane doing it is quite the maddening experience. If I didn't have ear plugs in and a book to distract me, I would have stomped on a few phones. I hate whomever invented the cell phone - I honestly do.
We were on the ground, stuck inside a plane with crying babies and cranky passengers for over two hours.
I am so glad to be home.