I haven't cried in a long time.
But this morning the rain on my windshield got to me.
It felt good to let the tears out.

My truest friends have come. gone. again.
Life would have been so different if I'd stayed.
But here I am, in la-la land.

The same version as before.
But, they say, better, happier, stronger.
So why the tears?

Because it could have been easier.
If I didn't make it (still) hard.
Pick it up, pack it in, let me begin...

again. and again. and again.
emptying the space behind its eyes, the body begs,
put it on pause.

The Only Good LA Traffic Story You'll Ever Read

"How do you plead?"
"Guilty, with explanation, Your Honor."
"OK, proceed."
"Your Honor, I believe that stop-signs are an established way in our traffic system to regulate traffic, avoid accidents, and give everyone a fair turn. Do you agree?"
"Um, yes."
"Well, the charge I've received of failure to stop at a stop sign is something that would not happen based on my belief in this effective system. See, what happened was I was driving down a hill in slow traffic and arrived at a 3-way stop-sign. I completed my turn, and about 200 meters down the street was pulled over by an officer. I was unaware of my violation, as were the 10 year old twins in the backseat that I was bringing home from school. In fact, we all attested to my having completely stopped, but the officer ignored my assertion and gave me this ticket anyway. That's why I'm here today. Because I know that he was wrong."
"I just have one question," says the judge. "Why did you use the metric system in your description?"
"I'm a track and field athlete, sir."
"OK, then. Charge dismissed, traffic school granted."

The whole thing ended up costing me $40 instead of upwards of $200.

religion (or not)

so i went down to the beach this morning with my yoga mat to sit and meditate for 15 minutes or so.

when i cleared my mind of thoughts, i had the familiar sensation of being a peon, a tiny, insignificant orb floating in a world of many, many more.

and i realized, when i speak of fear, that's where my own fear lies...in seeing and knowing that my existence is entirely meaningless.

ever since i was a little girl, i've been bothered by the bible verse, 'for your life is but a vapor.' i'd watch the vapor come our of my parents' humidifier, and think about how fleeting and scary the concept was. at the same time, the concept of 'forever' and 'eternity' frightened me equally. it just went on, always, without end, your heaven or hell outcome dependent on actions made in that momentary 'vapor' existence that started it all.
this time, while meditating, i began to picture my little orb-self as an energetic atom, radiating red-hot, the more that i loved and gave of that energy. the brighter it burned, the more i was able to distribute, share, send out tendrils of strength, and therefore connect with the orbs around me.

and i realized, therein lies one answer to my need for meaning. in this floating vapor of a moment, i can affect the universe around me by burning bright enough for my energy to touch, shape, and alter the preexisting energy around me.

i stood up, smiled at the world and tossed my yoga mat over my shoulder. i was holding an apple core and thirty feet away was a garbage can in the sand. i felt this oneness, a confident connectedness flow through me. when i threw it the apple landed in the can as if i had been standing next to it.

it just makes the quantum mechanics i'm reading about right now seem all the more applicable on a day-to-day level: 'Normally, spatial separation implies physical independence. Quantum mechanics challenges this view by revealing, at least in certain circumstances, a capacity to transcend space. Two objects can be far apart in space, but it's as if they're a single entity. Moreover, because of the tight link between space and time found by Einstein, the quantum connections also have temporal tentacles."
***

the book goes on to say, to my excitement...'Despite these many impressive insights, there remains one very basic feature of time - that it seems to have a direction pointing from past to future - for which neither relativity nor quantum mechanics has provided an explanation.'

that's the main reason i'm reading this book. i want to know what the forefront theories and ideas are about the concept of time. neat, neat, neat.

hunting tips

details from the hunter-tracking research i'm doing for my boss's Western screenplay:

-Hunting an opossum involves finding him on a low branch or in a bush; it's easy to shake him out or climb up and throw him down. When an opossum plays dead it is a function of this stupid animal's low-geared nervous system - the possum is overwhelmed by excitement and faints. Then he's usually dispatched by the dogs or the hunter wielding a club. Its a leisurely sport, but in the rural South, many men enjoy an evening out with a dog or two.

-Hunters sometimes used female deer scent made from the glands to attract buck deer, and concentrated deer scent is available in bottled form today.

-Trail-watchers sometimes call deer by rubbing and rattling two old antlers together. Often, a buck will rush up to get in on the battle, perhaps hoping that there is a ready doe nearby. In some states, this form of calling is forbidden by law because it is too effective when the bucks are in a rutting frenzy.

-Let out a series of yells that sound like a cross between an eagle's screaming and the weird yowls of a bobcat. This will terrify a hare so much that it simply cannot run away. It can then be killed easily, with a stick or a blow from the edge of the hand on the back of the neck.

-Gently touch the captured animal's eye with the muzzle of your gun. Even an unconscious animal will blink if it is still alive. If the animal does blink, put another bullet into it or use another broadhead.

Wisconsin childhood memories of friendly men clad all in orange, and the familiar sight of gutted deer carcasses hanging from every barn corner have suddenly lost their cozy, sepia-toned tinge.

eewie, icky, sad.

life these days

Friday: get to work. have 2 green-clad 10 year olds meet me at the front door where merciless, lephrecaun-esque pinching - although not altogether painful, due to small digits - ensues immediately due to my having unobserved st. patty's green-garb demand.

my boss, irrate and insane due to wandering through an alternate universe of her own creation for hours on end, as writers tend to do, demands that i understand, share, and resolve her pain, without articulating the problem.
then she needs immediate research, such as yesterday...'HEIDI! I need a funky quote about making your fortune in the gold rush said by an eccentric 1850's character.' the considerably adept google meets his match in her, on a regular basis.
and i get stuck in the middle.
then she gets all cute and sweet, and we laugh alot and go hiking or eat some gourmet spread her italian husband stirs up, and i'm like, 'i have the best job ever.'

Weekend: meet my latest hottie-hot-hotboy at 5pm...drive 4 hours to big bear, stay in a hot-tub/fireplace cabin, wake up early, go snowboarding all day, drive back down to go to a rave that starts at midnight (actually a very radio-station official kind of thing, with the best electronic musicians around - like, 10 peeps are coming down from SF for it), stay till 6am (maybe), go sleep in echo park house 5 mins. away, in my room under the stairs, wake up to celebrate abigail's 21st, then meet this producer that night, to get the tapes of a beastie boy interview whose memoir i am writing the first 2 chapters of.
go to sleep.

Monday: wake up, go to work, and feel inexplicably lonely, cracked out, and sorry for himself. drink lots of coffee. smoke cigarettes.
guilt-trip myself at night for not writing and skipping spanish class, while i drink wine, watch american idol on TiVo, and take up perfunctory home improvement projects right when i'm actually about to sit down and write.
repeat until friday.

get older.

at least we were together, holding hands

Man, moby is really representing on today's blog's entries!

I saw a guy crash his motorcycle on the highway today, and i almost threw up. I never saw aaron walk again after i dug my hands daily through his bloody compound fracture and did everything i could to take care of him for almost a year. he cut me off to latch on to someone else.
I found things he wrote me last night. I was looking through my memory folder. Still hurts. I sent him an email a few weeks back, just venting my frustration at his lack of care for a friendship or contact. He never answered. The postcard he wrote me five or six years ago said ‘you are permanantely in my heart and nothing can change that. I will always be your friend.’ How could I be so stupid? How could he? How could we think it was all so real? My heart still hurts.
Maybe it will stop someday, and I’ll truly be healed, so I can start something new and healthy. Maybe I’ll tell myself that this time, it won’t end.
The last guy i dated thought it was cool to be jaded. I don’t.
I pretend to be tough, when in actuality, all I want is to be loved enough to find it within myself to open up again.

this fucking moby record. 'oh my baby, don't cry. oh my baby at least we tried.'
which reminds me. this is aaron's CD.

we are all made of stars

this writing thing i'm doing. rob said to me, 'wow, that's a really big gamble, huh. like, in 10 years, if your novel does well, it will validate the entire last decade of your life. everything you did will suddenly be viewed differently, like, 'oh, that's when she was writing her novel.' "
what will happen if i don't kick ass as a published writer was left unsaid.

the desire to be known and respected...validated...has suddenly been kicked into even higher gear.

'i fly so high, and fall so low.'

moby's 'we are all made of stars' is playing in the background.

the CD was a welcome surprise the other day in the mail, the return of a loan i made to a member of my fishing crew in alaska, over 2 years ago. it came along with a magazine-size photo of me kneeling in sunny grass in a full patchwork dress with a hard-core homesteader look on my face.
it's pretty cool, except for the fact that actually displaying it would be weirdly narcissistic.

according to society. but as far as i'm concerned it IS all about me. i mean, who else is there? no one right now, anyway.
except for that unbearably predictable and therefore exploitable family-thing called 'unconditional love.'

Divers Discover Furry Blond Crustacean

PARIS (March 8) - A team of American-led divers has discovered a new crustacean in the South Pacific that resembles a lobster and is covered with what looks like silky, blond fur, French researchers said Tuesday.
Scientists said the animal, which they named Kiwa hirsuta, was so distinct from other species that they created a new family and genus for it.

then again

i've never been happier than i am right now. things keep getting better, the more i learn.
and being single, with all the things i have to keep me busy, is exactly what i need. and even want, most of the time.
so there, overly-analytical self!

so it goes?

I’m smiling ruefully to myself right now. One more guy that I like, that doesn’t work out. I am a woefully atypical girl. Get fooled into thinking attention means someone wants me, give up ass, get into them, they disappear, I take 1-3 weeks to recover before heading out on a quest to do it all over again.
You think I’d learn.
I have to keep being strong. And brave enough to try again and again.
No, that sounds depressing, and desperate.
But is giving up winning?

Cool Word

quintessence   \kwin-TESS-unss\   noun
    1 : the fifth and highest element in ancient and medieval
philosophy that permeates all nature and is the substance composing the
celestial bodies
   *2 : the essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated
form