Even in the greatest yogi, sorrow and joy still arise just as before. The difference between an ordinary person and the yogi is how they view their emotions and react to them.
An ordinary person will instinctively accept or reject them, and so arouse the attachment or aversion that will result in the accumulation of negative karma.
A yogi, however, perceives everything that rises in its natural, pristine state, without allowing grasping to enter his perception.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
tom sends dharmic reminders
atom and eve
I love Keri Smith's blog. So much wisdom mixed up with a little angst and total optimism. I think I put up a quote I found on her blog a couple of days ago. I hope it's not too soon to put up another.
Interesting thought. And my first question is, what kind of particle would I be? Even better, what kind of element would I be? For that matter, what kind of element would you be?
What would you attract? Would you be a noble gas? Highly reactionary? Stable? Inert? Combustible? Would you be taking in negative ions or scattering them about you? Would you wander far or stay close by?
Good god I've been Emdot the Heavy for the past 48 hours. Hopefully today some of that can start to die down. I hate it when I get too much in my head. But likewise I also like it when people in my life read my blog and call to talk about it and/or call me on my shit.
Last night I got called on said shit and was forced -- in a not necessarily unpleasant way -- to look at my patterns, defenses and habitual whateveryouwannacallits. And I didn't take it all in at face value, but the truth of the matter is: it was pretty accurate. And seriously? To me, that is a big part of friendship. A good friend will support you with honesty and a dose of 20/20 vision.
What you do with it, I guess, is your business. But it doesn't hurt to look.
Why can't my blog be funny like More Than Donuts?
I promise full blown levity in the days that come.
An elementary particle is not an independently existing, unanalyzable entity. It is, in essence, a set of relationships that reach outward to other things.
— H.P. Stapp, twentieth-century physicist
Interesting thought. And my first question is, what kind of particle would I be? Even better, what kind of element would I be? For that matter, what kind of element would you be?
What would you attract? Would you be a noble gas? Highly reactionary? Stable? Inert? Combustible? Would you be taking in negative ions or scattering them about you? Would you wander far or stay close by?
Good god I've been Emdot the Heavy for the past 48 hours. Hopefully today some of that can start to die down. I hate it when I get too much in my head. But likewise I also like it when people in my life read my blog and call to talk about it and/or call me on my shit.
Last night I got called on said shit and was forced -- in a not necessarily unpleasant way -- to look at my patterns, defenses and habitual whateveryouwannacallits. And I didn't take it all in at face value, but the truth of the matter is: it was pretty accurate. And seriously? To me, that is a big part of friendship. A good friend will support you with honesty and a dose of 20/20 vision.
What you do with it, I guess, is your business. But it doesn't hurt to look.
Why can't my blog be funny like More Than Donuts?
I promise full blown levity in the days that come.
treebones yurt cabins in big sur
Dan just sent me an email. He and his gf were traipsing up and down the big sur coastline over the three-day weekend and he saw this place and thought of me. I love yurts! I love Big Sur! Hence, this is my new idyllic place to stay in Big Sur.
Okay, okay, so in all reality, Ventana and Post Ranch are still my epitome of Big Sur Dreamtime, but the yurts might be more in my budget. :)
Okay, okay, so in all reality, Ventana and Post Ranch are still my epitome of Big Sur Dreamtime, but the yurts might be more in my budget. :)
Monday, May 30, 2005
more tall flowers
everybody grows
So Catherine, my dear friend Catherine, calls to talk about my last blog entry. God love her.
She agrees on both parts: we change and we stay the same. Only she says "we grow, Marya, we grow. Everybody grows."
She went on, "Even at 80. Even at 90. We'll be growing."
Amen. And so true.
Catherine has a friend who just turned 100. One hundred years old. And Catherine has known her for years and years. And for most of the years and years you could not bring up the woman's birthday or age. But turning 100 has changed all that. One hundred years later and the woman learned how to embrace her age.
And while I like that story, here's my fingers crossed that my own learning pattern may be a bit quicker.
So Catherine, my dear friend Catherine, calls to talk about my last blog entry. God love her.
She agrees on both parts: we change and we stay the same. Only she says "we grow, Marya, we grow. Everybody grows."
She went on, "Even at 80. Even at 90. We'll be growing."
Amen. And so true.
Catherine has a friend who just turned 100. One hundred years old. And Catherine has known her for years and years. And for most of the years and years you could not bring up the woman's birthday or age. But turning 100 has changed all that. One hundred years later and the woman learned how to embrace her age.
And while I like that story, here's my fingers crossed that my own learning pattern may be a bit quicker.
matt and marya, senior year of high school
the song remains the same
So my weird news of late has been me dating an old high school boyfriend. I think I mentioned this a few weeks ago.
So the long-story short is that we dated at the end of my senior year. We haven't seen each other in either 16 or 19 years (we can't remember). He only moved back to the Central Coast in January. Three weeks ago he was walking downtown and I drove by him on the street (stopped at the corner -- he was waiting to cross, I was waiting to turn; he saw me; I didn't see him) and he looked me up and called me minutes later. We've gone out a handfull of times since.
So, beyond the strange part of dating an old high school boyfriend, a few things have really been blowing my mind.
One, there is just no explaining connections. Me and this guy have a strong connection. And very few things in common. Well, we have history in common, but few things beyond that. To have a connection and little in common is a strange phenomena. It makes me believe in, or rather, want to explain it away as, past lives or some karmic hoo-haw.
Two, people don't change that much. Our dynamic is crazily similar to that of high school. And our relationship is playing out very similarly to the one we had in high school. Our paths have been night and day (we are night and day). He joined the army. He got married. He had kids. He's lived all over the states. I've stayed put. I never married. I went to college. I don't have kids. Yet, our interaction? Just turn back the clock. It's fucking crazy! The same good things. The same bad things. The same reactions. The same dilemmas. I find this fascinating, frustrating, sad and truth be told, really neat -- for lack of a better word.
I have been known to overly elaborate on how much I've changed. How different I am. I do feel, really, like a completely different person. But, dating Matt I am forced to admit: I'm not. I'm hardly changed at all.
I love that. I hate that. But more than anything, I just really marvel at it -- how we are who we are. From birth to death. So the question begs, can people change? And if they can, in what ways can they change?
Maybe growing older we just become ... hmmm... like a photograph.... the contrasts might get tweaked. The hue. A filter may come into play. But bottom line is, the image remains the same.
Funny how life works.
It is taking all my willpower to not type out where I think this puppy is headed. I don't want to write that here, cuz I think it is my defense mechanism playing out. So, my lips are sealed. And I'll just try to stay open to life as it presents itself.
And THAT -- that my friends -- is the difference.
So my weird news of late has been me dating an old high school boyfriend. I think I mentioned this a few weeks ago.
So the long-story short is that we dated at the end of my senior year. We haven't seen each other in either 16 or 19 years (we can't remember). He only moved back to the Central Coast in January. Three weeks ago he was walking downtown and I drove by him on the street (stopped at the corner -- he was waiting to cross, I was waiting to turn; he saw me; I didn't see him) and he looked me up and called me minutes later. We've gone out a handfull of times since.
So, beyond the strange part of dating an old high school boyfriend, a few things have really been blowing my mind.
One, there is just no explaining connections. Me and this guy have a strong connection. And very few things in common. Well, we have history in common, but few things beyond that. To have a connection and little in common is a strange phenomena. It makes me believe in, or rather, want to explain it away as, past lives or some karmic hoo-haw.
Two, people don't change that much. Our dynamic is crazily similar to that of high school. And our relationship is playing out very similarly to the one we had in high school. Our paths have been night and day (we are night and day). He joined the army. He got married. He had kids. He's lived all over the states. I've stayed put. I never married. I went to college. I don't have kids. Yet, our interaction? Just turn back the clock. It's fucking crazy! The same good things. The same bad things. The same reactions. The same dilemmas. I find this fascinating, frustrating, sad and truth be told, really neat -- for lack of a better word.
I have been known to overly elaborate on how much I've changed. How different I am. I do feel, really, like a completely different person. But, dating Matt I am forced to admit: I'm not. I'm hardly changed at all.
I love that. I hate that. But more than anything, I just really marvel at it -- how we are who we are. From birth to death. So the question begs, can people change? And if they can, in what ways can they change?
Maybe growing older we just become ... hmmm... like a photograph.... the contrasts might get tweaked. The hue. A filter may come into play. But bottom line is, the image remains the same.
Funny how life works.
It is taking all my willpower to not type out where I think this puppy is headed. I don't want to write that here, cuz I think it is my defense mechanism playing out. So, my lips are sealed. And I'll just try to stay open to life as it presents itself.
And THAT -- that my friends -- is the difference.
waiting for godot
My good friend Greg sent me an email a couple days ago recommending a flickr group: waiting for godot. He said my empty chair pic might be a good fit.
And I thought to myself, which empty chair pic? Because I have many.
And I started to think about it and I realized: that is the theme of my photos. Waiting.
Waiting is a state I know well. My life is a state of waiting. And arrested development, but that is for another blogpost. And it's not so applicable anymore. But waiting? Waiting I know.
I wait to a fault.
I am the most patient waiter you have ever met in your life.
Hurry up? Urgency? Rushing? These, not so much. But waiting? It's like my signature.
And it's interesting to see that reflected in my photos as well.
And I thought to myself, which empty chair pic? Because I have many.
And I started to think about it and I realized: that is the theme of my photos. Waiting.
Waiting is a state I know well. My life is a state of waiting. And arrested development, but that is for another blogpost. And it's not so applicable anymore. But waiting? Waiting I know.
I wait to a fault.
I am the most patient waiter you have ever met in your life.
Hurry up? Urgency? Rushing? These, not so much. But waiting? It's like my signature.
And it's interesting to see that reflected in my photos as well.
Friday, May 27, 2005
pyjama day on Utata
I am in a really fun group on Flickr called Utata, started by the ever great Catherine Jamieson. The group has about 130 members and only a handful are active in the threads, but the threads are fun and often thought provoking.
There is one guy in Utata who amuses, intrigues and pushes my buttons: Pierre. He's so brash. How can a person be so brash? Anyway, he also has moments of fun ideas such as Pyjama Day. Inspired by Canada's holiday last monday and the US's holiday next monday, the battle cry was issued for pictures in your jammies.
By the way, growing up I said Pyjamas with a flat a. Now I say Pyjahhmas with a full a (what is the name of that a sound?). My mother has insinuated that this is me turning my back on my family and origins. :) I disagree as I still say EEEther instead of IIIther.
There is one guy in Utata who amuses, intrigues and pushes my buttons: Pierre. He's so brash. How can a person be so brash? Anyway, he also has moments of fun ideas such as Pyjama Day. Inspired by Canada's holiday last monday and the US's holiday next monday, the battle cry was issued for pictures in your jammies.
By the way, growing up I said Pyjamas with a flat a. Now I say Pyjahhmas with a full a (what is the name of that a sound?). My mother has insinuated that this is me turning my back on my family and origins. :) I disagree as I still say EEEther instead of IIIther.
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Peek a Boo
Today I caught up on a bunch of blogs. It used to be, until Flickr became my online drug of choice, that I had a daily ritual of coffee sipping and morning blog reading. But over the last few months I kind of lost touch with some of these daily visits and it's so nice to go back and see that they've been there all along. Trudging through, maintaining their own daily meandering streamies.
Today I read this on Wish Jar Journals:
I'm a personality who needs extra limits and I hate to admit it. I hate to admit it with a passion. I find it embarrassing. But the truth is, is that I am a highly permissive person. I can make my mind up to do one thing and ten bucks says that in five minutes you can get me to change my mind and off I'll be going in a completely different direction. I am very maleable. This causes problems when it comes to goals or projects.
I have to watch it cuz I could very easily be one of those people who whittles away years and years with the best intentions. More options just make me feel more overwhelmed. I need a task master. I need a weeder outer. And I really really wish that I could be those things for myself.
Maybe I can.
Years ago when I was a vegetarian (and yes, I know, I'm getting really rambly here), people thought I stopped eating meat for ethical reasons; for health reasons; or because everybody was doing it.
No. I did it because I had too many options on a menu. I could never decide. I couldn't decide what to order. I couldn't decide what to make. I couldn't decide what to get at the grocery store. So I became a vegetarian and my life got a whole lot easier.
I need to do something similar these days, tho not pertaining to food. Pertaining more to life in general. Question is, how to pare down without becoming miserly. How to trim without becoming stringent. How to limit without becoming oppressive?
Maybe I should just sit instead and let it work itself out. Meditation is the best medicine. I'm thinking too much.
Today I read this on Wish Jar Journals:
"Limitation is what differentiates a flood from a lake. In the making of things, limitations allow you to choose from something rather than everything." — Corita KentI really relate to that.
I'm a personality who needs extra limits and I hate to admit it. I hate to admit it with a passion. I find it embarrassing. But the truth is, is that I am a highly permissive person. I can make my mind up to do one thing and ten bucks says that in five minutes you can get me to change my mind and off I'll be going in a completely different direction. I am very maleable. This causes problems when it comes to goals or projects.
I have to watch it cuz I could very easily be one of those people who whittles away years and years with the best intentions. More options just make me feel more overwhelmed. I need a task master. I need a weeder outer. And I really really wish that I could be those things for myself.
Maybe I can.
Years ago when I was a vegetarian (and yes, I know, I'm getting really rambly here), people thought I stopped eating meat for ethical reasons; for health reasons; or because everybody was doing it.
No. I did it because I had too many options on a menu. I could never decide. I couldn't decide what to order. I couldn't decide what to make. I couldn't decide what to get at the grocery store. So I became a vegetarian and my life got a whole lot easier.
I need to do something similar these days, tho not pertaining to food. Pertaining more to life in general. Question is, how to pare down without becoming miserly. How to trim without becoming stringent. How to limit without becoming oppressive?
Maybe I should just sit instead and let it work itself out. Meditation is the best medicine. I'm thinking too much.
Conform Project :: nonconform
You can always tell when there are things in my life that I don't want to blog cuz what ends up happening is that I don't blog at all. It's as if holding back in one area causes me to hold back in all of them.
Not necessarily true. Sometimes I just get quiet. But right now it's because I don't want to mouth off or tip my hand or hurt anybody's feelings.
But the problem with self-editing is that it can take on its on oppressive momentum.
So... in no particular order (and still avoiding some topics)....
* I can no longer spell. It started happening about a year ago. I remember thinking "next door neighbor" and my fingers typed out "neck store neighbor." This is not a good sign. I got an email from somebody in Flickr that I don't even know (not a contact, not someone I see in groups) who felt the need to correct one of my typos in the forum (I can't remember if I should have written whose and I wrote who's or if it was the other way around.). Of course, I could really care less about mistakes like that... as long as they are once in a while. But this daily stuff? [ deep breath ]. I think for the first time in my life I have to work on my spelling.
So, in honor of my weakening brain, I offer up an interesting article found through boingboing.net, Eleven Steps to a Better Brain.
* Here is the really embarrassing stuff I don't want to write about. Last night I watched the season finale of American Idol. The results were not good. Lemme preface by saying I do not typically watch American Idol and I do not typically listen to the type of music that AI promotes (pop pap -- blech.). BUT. But. There was a chance that AI could actually gain some credibility and have a rocker win. And a hot rocker at that. Plus, I hate Carrie Underwood. She has the personality of plaster of paris. No, she has the personality of drywall.
Now, I didn't want to write about it because somebody near and dear to me does watch AI with great interest. And this same person really loves Carrie Underwood. And I don't want this person to think that I am dissing CU. But... man. Basically — No. I better stop.
If you can't say something nice....
So instead let me say, it's too bad that AI didn't get the chance to have someone more interesting win. Someone who could have changed the cliche that AI is. Not that he would have been a big stretch, but at least it would have pointed things in the right direction.
Not necessarily true. Sometimes I just get quiet. But right now it's because I don't want to mouth off or tip my hand or hurt anybody's feelings.
But the problem with self-editing is that it can take on its on oppressive momentum.
So... in no particular order (and still avoiding some topics)....
* I can no longer spell. It started happening about a year ago. I remember thinking "next door neighbor" and my fingers typed out "neck store neighbor." This is not a good sign. I got an email from somebody in Flickr that I don't even know (not a contact, not someone I see in groups) who felt the need to correct one of my typos in the forum (I can't remember if I should have written whose and I wrote who's or if it was the other way around.). Of course, I could really care less about mistakes like that... as long as they are once in a while. But this daily stuff? [ deep breath ]. I think for the first time in my life I have to work on my spelling.
So, in honor of my weakening brain, I offer up an interesting article found through boingboing.net, Eleven Steps to a Better Brain.
* Here is the really embarrassing stuff I don't want to write about. Last night I watched the season finale of American Idol. The results were not good. Lemme preface by saying I do not typically watch American Idol and I do not typically listen to the type of music that AI promotes (pop pap -- blech.). BUT. But. There was a chance that AI could actually gain some credibility and have a rocker win. And a hot rocker at that. Plus, I hate Carrie Underwood. She has the personality of plaster of paris. No, she has the personality of drywall.
Now, I didn't want to write about it because somebody near and dear to me does watch AI with great interest. And this same person really loves Carrie Underwood. And I don't want this person to think that I am dissing CU. But... man. Basically — No. I better stop.
If you can't say something nice....
So instead let me say, it's too bad that AI didn't get the chance to have someone more interesting win. Someone who could have changed the cliche that AI is. Not that he would have been a big stretch, but at least it would have pointed things in the right direction.
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Which Religion Is Right for You?
You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already.
In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth.
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com
You scored as Buddhism. Your beliefs most closely resemble those of Buddhism. Do more research on Buddhism and possibly consider becoming Buddhist, if you are not already.
In Buddhism, there are Four Noble Truths: (1) Life is suffering. (2) All suffering is caused by ignorance of the nature of reality and the craving, attachment, and grasping that result from such ignorance. (3) Suffering can be ended by overcoming ignorance and attachment. (4) The path to the suppression of suffering is the Noble Eightfold Path, which consists of right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right effort, right-mindedness, and right contemplation. These eight are usually divided into three categories that base the Buddhist faith: morality, wisdom, and samadhi, or concentration. In Buddhism, there is no hierarchy, nor caste system; the Buddha taught that one's spiritual worth is not based on birth.
Buddhism | 75% | ||
agnosticism | 58% | ||
Paganism | 58% | ||
Hinduism | 54% | ||
Islam | 50% | ||
Christianity | 46% | ||
Satanism | 38% | ||
atheism | 33% | ||
Judaism | 33% |
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version)
created with QuizFarm.com
Monday, May 23, 2005
my puppy and me
Go and read this story. I'm telling you: great way to start your day is to read the story and look at the happy faces in this photo. :)
Thursday, May 19, 2005
from the ever great brezny
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Nearly half of American high school students believe that the government should have the power to censor the news. Surveys also show that a majority of adults in the U.S. would vote against the Bill of Rights if it were presented to them in a referendum. Don't be anything like those wackos in the coming days, Virgo. On the contrary, you should fight for all the freedom you can imagine, including the freedom of other people as well as your own. Be an expert in liberation.
The Stepford Bday Cake
Yesterday wasn't only my mom's birthday. It was also my Aunt Stella's birthday. And today is MJ's birthday. And even tho MJ and I don't share a drop of blood, she's family too.
Remind me (yeah, that's it; remind me; you know, in my nonexistant comments section) to tell you the story of the shared birthdays of my mom and Stella -- life is all entwined I'm telling you and it's a good story.
Remind me (yeah, that's it; remind me; you know, in my nonexistant comments section) to tell you the story of the shared birthdays of my mom and Stella -- life is all entwined I'm telling you and it's a good story.
summer comes early (spring came late)
Yesterday was my mom's birthday so I took the day off from work. Last year we mosied up the California Coast and spent the day in Big Sur (hello: bliss). This year we kept it closer to home not going farther than Arroyo Grande for a movie.
We caught a late-afternoon matinee of Crash and saw all the Star Warsers lined up with their folding chairs and their light sabers. My mom thought this was strange. I thought it looked fun (not for me; for them).
While I'm sure all the talk is going to be about the Revenge of the Sith, I'd like to recommend going to see Crash. Best movie I've seen in months.
- - - -
My mind has been in a nostalgic whirl the last couple of days. I saw Matt, who I mentioned the other day. And that set a reminiscing film reel spinning in my head. It was great to see him.
I love catching up with people from my past. Certain people, anyway. There is a kind of immutable comfortability, inherent in just seeing each other. A complete ease, a kind of lack of self-consciousness. I talked about this last August after my high school reunion. Matt wasn't in my class (in fact, finished his senior year at a different high school) and I hadn't seen him in almost 20 years (we can't quite figure out the last time we saw each other; but it's been 17, 18, 19 years). But it was great to catch up. To hear a voice you remember in your spine or to recognize a chuckle or a certain look. I'm a sucker for that stuff. Also, I love meeting up with old friends and seeing how their lives turned out, hearing about their kids, where they've lived, what they've done. Seeing how they've changed, they've grown, they've triumphed, they've fallen, they've gotten back up... yet through it all — no matter how much they have morphed into their adult self — there are little remnants that linger.
We caught a late-afternoon matinee of Crash and saw all the Star Warsers lined up with their folding chairs and their light sabers. My mom thought this was strange. I thought it looked fun (not for me; for them).
While I'm sure all the talk is going to be about the Revenge of the Sith, I'd like to recommend going to see Crash. Best movie I've seen in months.
- - - -
My mind has been in a nostalgic whirl the last couple of days. I saw Matt, who I mentioned the other day. And that set a reminiscing film reel spinning in my head. It was great to see him.
I love catching up with people from my past. Certain people, anyway. There is a kind of immutable comfortability, inherent in just seeing each other. A complete ease, a kind of lack of self-consciousness. I talked about this last August after my high school reunion. Matt wasn't in my class (in fact, finished his senior year at a different high school) and I hadn't seen him in almost 20 years (we can't quite figure out the last time we saw each other; but it's been 17, 18, 19 years). But it was great to catch up. To hear a voice you remember in your spine or to recognize a chuckle or a certain look. I'm a sucker for that stuff. Also, I love meeting up with old friends and seeing how their lives turned out, hearing about their kids, where they've lived, what they've done. Seeing how they've changed, they've grown, they've triumphed, they've fallen, they've gotten back up... yet through it all — no matter how much they have morphed into their adult self — there are little remnants that linger.
falling for haley
I can't sleep.
It could be worse. It could be two hours earlier. And I didn't try to fight it that much. Who knows. Maybe I'll still tumble back into bed and wake up later. But meanwhile, I can't sleep.
This may be responsible for the mysterious eye twitch that began to happen yesterday afternoon. A headache and an eye twitch. How lovely. How attractive. It's hot I'm telling you.
I never get headaches. That's one of those sentences I like to toss around like a big braggy beachball. Headaches? Never get them. But, like a well-worn and starting to fade favorite accessory, I don't know how much longer I can wear that one. I've had at least ten headaches in recent memory.
Dammit. I hate having to change my defining sentences.
I'm blaming alcohol. And it's not that I've been out clubbing it up. I haven't. And it's not that I went on some binge. I didn't. There were simply a chain of social events that, you know, required some imbibing. And while I didn't necessarily over do it every night, I think I have residual alcohol build up. That coupled with the inability to sleep past 5:30 the last few mornings has made me a little cloudy the last few days.
Which may explain that hawt eye twitch.
It could be worse. It could be two hours earlier. And I didn't try to fight it that much. Who knows. Maybe I'll still tumble back into bed and wake up later. But meanwhile, I can't sleep.
This may be responsible for the mysterious eye twitch that began to happen yesterday afternoon. A headache and an eye twitch. How lovely. How attractive. It's hot I'm telling you.
I never get headaches. That's one of those sentences I like to toss around like a big braggy beachball. Headaches? Never get them. But, like a well-worn and starting to fade favorite accessory, I don't know how much longer I can wear that one. I've had at least ten headaches in recent memory.
Dammit. I hate having to change my defining sentences.
I'm blaming alcohol. And it's not that I've been out clubbing it up. I haven't. And it's not that I went on some binge. I didn't. There were simply a chain of social events that, you know, required some imbibing. And while I didn't necessarily over do it every night, I think I have residual alcohol build up. That coupled with the inability to sleep past 5:30 the last few mornings has made me a little cloudy the last few days.
Which may explain that hawt eye twitch.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Devizes to Westminster Canoe Race
My flickr friend Shepherd sent me a link to more proof of the evilness that is the swan.
The flickr caption reads
The flickr caption reads
"Canoists taking part int he Devises to Westminster canoe race had an unexpected hazard to negotiate on the Kennet & Avon Canal near the start where a swan attacked them as they passed his nest.Moral of the story? Don't trust the swan! Don't trust the swan!
Sunday, May 15, 2005
Mom & Marya
Me and my mama, as taken on Mother's Day by my little (and very fabulous) sister, Becca. I love this photo. ;)
Friday, May 13, 2005
Sharing a laugh
THIS PHOTO IS INSANE.
Growing up in California, we don't get a lot of swan action. In fact we get none. Or if we get any, it's all in zoos where people are always protected by fences and ditches and moats and three feet of indestructable plexiglass. So, needless to say, I didn't have a lot of experience with swans when I went naively off to Scotland for a winter. Scotland, where it seems they have a secret society of Ninja Swan that are put on this earth to kill you.
Swans are the most viscious and dangerous creatures on earth.
They look deceivingly beautiful and heavenly. But, hello, this is just the tactic the devil would take if he were put on earth to kill, kill, kill. From afar you can sigh and point and think how tranquil, how peaceful, how beautiful, how perfect.
But I am here to tell you people, up close and personal you should not have these thoughts. Ten feet and you should be thinking "uh oh, swan." Five feet and you should be thinking, "caution caution: it's only five feet away." Three feet and you should be patting your pockets hoping you were smart enough to bring along your concealed weapon. Two feet and you best be shielding your face and backing up really fast. One foot? You are obviously dead, eyes pecked out and neck wrung by the evil devil spawn swan who did you in before you could even yell "ugly duckling."
Basically, swans are snakes with beaks. Fast snakes that flap maniacal wings and rip you to shreds with talons of death. And where as the snake is usually napping and dreaming of rabbits, swans are basically swimming around fishing for humans by looking sweet and mother-goose innocent.
All of this to say, that is why I made this photo a favorite. Who is this insane woman? What brain lapse occurred that allowed her to think, "ah, lying on my belly here would be a splendid idea; I think I will put my eye next to beak of Satan."? And most importantly: what happened directly after this photo was taken?
Cuz come on, we can all see the face of the swan here. It's obvious what the swan is thinking. Have you ever seen a more self-congratulatory expression? This swan is wooing her in with his clever beauty and he is having a last laugh before feasting on her optical orbs.
Growing up in California, we don't get a lot of swan action. In fact we get none. Or if we get any, it's all in zoos where people are always protected by fences and ditches and moats and three feet of indestructable plexiglass. So, needless to say, I didn't have a lot of experience with swans when I went naively off to Scotland for a winter. Scotland, where it seems they have a secret society of Ninja Swan that are put on this earth to kill you.
Swans are the most viscious and dangerous creatures on earth.
They look deceivingly beautiful and heavenly. But, hello, this is just the tactic the devil would take if he were put on earth to kill, kill, kill. From afar you can sigh and point and think how tranquil, how peaceful, how beautiful, how perfect.
But I am here to tell you people, up close and personal you should not have these thoughts. Ten feet and you should be thinking "uh oh, swan." Five feet and you should be thinking, "caution caution: it's only five feet away." Three feet and you should be patting your pockets hoping you were smart enough to bring along your concealed weapon. Two feet and you best be shielding your face and backing up really fast. One foot? You are obviously dead, eyes pecked out and neck wrung by the evil devil spawn swan who did you in before you could even yell "ugly duckling."
Basically, swans are snakes with beaks. Fast snakes that flap maniacal wings and rip you to shreds with talons of death. And where as the snake is usually napping and dreaming of rabbits, swans are basically swimming around fishing for humans by looking sweet and mother-goose innocent.
All of this to say, that is why I made this photo a favorite. Who is this insane woman? What brain lapse occurred that allowed her to think, "ah, lying on my belly here would be a splendid idea; I think I will put my eye next to beak of Satan."? And most importantly: what happened directly after this photo was taken?
Cuz come on, we can all see the face of the swan here. It's obvious what the swan is thinking. Have you ever seen a more self-congratulatory expression? This swan is wooing her in with his clever beauty and he is having a last laugh before feasting on her optical orbs.
Wednesday, May 11, 2005
the first matilijas
One of the things I like about hanging out with my friend Tom is that we are both Buddhists at about the same level, so we think and wonder about many of the same things. And we both love talking about the dharma.
Sogyal Rinpoche talked about the mind -- the mind is always clear. Now it may feel cloudy or heavy or happy or scattered -- but those are just your thoughts decorating your mind.
Think of it, he illustrated, like the sky. The sky is always clear. It may be raining where you are, but the sky is clear and calm. If you were to be in an airplane looking down, you would see -- oh yes, the sky is perfectly clear. Only the rainclouds are marring its perfection.
And I realized... well, I had a split second of wanting /grasping where I told myself, "ah, yes, try to attain that always-clear-sky-feeling." But even faster I realized that that is not the answer.
The answer is to not take the weather personally and instead to just be in the weather. In other words, you can complain about the rain, but that is not going to change the weather forecast or the fact that you have to go out in it and drive or run errands or whatever. Best practice is to just grin and bear it and drive carefully.
Same as life. Things may be barrelling down on you. Obstacles may be littering your path. But way up there? The sky is still perfect. Things are just as they should be. Grin. Bear it. And drive carefully.
This may sound like a bunch of gobbledygoo to you (and if it does, I seriously doubt you have read this far), but for me... man, it still makes me smile. It's just the weather. No need to take it personally. Just drive carefully.
Note: I promise you, oh friends I have not met yet in real life, if you were to meet me I would not proselytize in front of you. I am not here to convert anybody. In fact, it's almost embarrassing to talk about this stuff with people who aren't interested. So I typically don't. I believe that people should believe what feels right and true for them, even if that includes "nothing."Tom and I went on a great evening hike on Monday and driving back he stuck a Sogyal Rinpoche tape into his car's cassette deck. We only listened to maybe five minutes of it. It's kind of amazing how much meat can be gleamed from five minutes of listening to a heavyweight lama.
Sogyal Rinpoche talked about the mind -- the mind is always clear. Now it may feel cloudy or heavy or happy or scattered -- but those are just your thoughts decorating your mind.
Think of it, he illustrated, like the sky. The sky is always clear. It may be raining where you are, but the sky is clear and calm. If you were to be in an airplane looking down, you would see -- oh yes, the sky is perfectly clear. Only the rainclouds are marring its perfection.
And I realized... well, I had a split second of wanting /grasping where I told myself, "ah, yes, try to attain that always-clear-sky-feeling." But even faster I realized that that is not the answer.
The answer is to not take the weather personally and instead to just be in the weather. In other words, you can complain about the rain, but that is not going to change the weather forecast or the fact that you have to go out in it and drive or run errands or whatever. Best practice is to just grin and bear it and drive carefully.
Same as life. Things may be barrelling down on you. Obstacles may be littering your path. But way up there? The sky is still perfect. Things are just as they should be. Grin. Bear it. And drive carefully.
This may sound like a bunch of gobbledygoo to you (and if it does, I seriously doubt you have read this far), but for me... man, it still makes me smile. It's just the weather. No need to take it personally. Just drive carefully.
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
For Emdot
i love flickr. know why i love flickr? for photos like this. my contact put this up and called it for emdot, due to a long avocado comment thread that sprouted up a coupla weeks ago.
the funny thing is, i clicked on this photo completely based on the thumbnail. i said to myself "lookslikeavocado. mustclickonphoto."
sure enough. :) cool photo and i made it a fave instantly.
everybody's goal this summer should be to eat more avo.
the funny thing is, i clicked on this photo completely based on the thumbnail. i said to myself "lookslikeavocado. mustclickonphoto."
sure enough. :) cool photo and i made it a fave instantly.
everybody's goal this summer should be to eat more avo.
cerro san luis seen from bishop peak
today was a weird day
How's that for a creative title?
Today started out great. I had a meeting with Richard B. of slopages. We know each other from blogs and flickr. And today we talked about doing some business together. And, sure that part of the conversation was good. But truthfully, it was a pleasure to meet him. What a great guy. He has the friendliest eyes of anyone you've ever met. And I mean that literally.
THEN -- then! -- I get a call from an exboyfriend from high school -- HIGH SCHOOL. And it was great and we talked pretty easily -- funny how an ease can pick up even if you haven't seen each other more than a decade. (Okay, even longer than that. I haven't seen him since I was 19 or 20; I'm pretty sure 19.)
Can I just say, man I had it bad for him when I was 17 (Matt H., for anyone reading this from the high school crew). Sigh. How funny to think back on those long past times. Sometimes it feels like the past is so far behind me that it happened to someone else. He had devilish eyes. I wonder what they look like now.
Oh -- the reason he called though. This is weird.
First let me back up. Friday night I was pimping Flickr as I am wont to do. And someone is giving me their email address so I can send an invite. But he's giving me the address verbally and unsure if I'll remember it. But I say, yes, I will totally remember this because you have the same last name as this exbf from high school.
And I hadn't mentioned Matt H. in a long time, so it was random for me to mention him on Friday.
Anyway, I'm driving away from my meeting with Richard this morning and MH just happens to be on the sidewalk and sees me. I can only imagine that he did a double take -- a wha-?! And then he looked up my number and called me.
He said, "do you have a silver car blah blah blah" and I said, "yes indeed I do."
Funny how coincidences work and serendipities line up.
--
Then the spider thing happened. And that is still creeping me out a little bit. And then something else happened which was weird and I shouldn't even mention it here cuz I'm not going to go into details, but suffice it to say I was upset. Maybe a little more than upset. Livid might be a good word to use.
---
But things ended great cuz I went on an evening hike with Tom that ended with delicious dinner and a splitting of a great bottle of Spanish red. And meaty meaty talks of this, of that, of buddhism and of what not.
I'm always up for talking about the what not.
How's that for a creative title?
Today started out great. I had a meeting with Richard B. of slopages. We know each other from blogs and flickr. And today we talked about doing some business together. And, sure that part of the conversation was good. But truthfully, it was a pleasure to meet him. What a great guy. He has the friendliest eyes of anyone you've ever met. And I mean that literally.
THEN -- then! -- I get a call from an exboyfriend from high school -- HIGH SCHOOL. And it was great and we talked pretty easily -- funny how an ease can pick up even if you haven't seen each other more than a decade. (Okay, even longer than that. I haven't seen him since I was 19 or 20; I'm pretty sure 19.)
Can I just say, man I had it bad for him when I was 17 (Matt H., for anyone reading this from the high school crew). Sigh. How funny to think back on those long past times. Sometimes it feels like the past is so far behind me that it happened to someone else. He had devilish eyes. I wonder what they look like now.
Oh -- the reason he called though. This is weird.
First let me back up. Friday night I was pimping Flickr as I am wont to do. And someone is giving me their email address so I can send an invite. But he's giving me the address verbally and unsure if I'll remember it. But I say, yes, I will totally remember this because you have the same last name as this exbf from high school.
And I hadn't mentioned Matt H. in a long time, so it was random for me to mention him on Friday.
Anyway, I'm driving away from my meeting with Richard this morning and MH just happens to be on the sidewalk and sees me. I can only imagine that he did a double take -- a wha-?! And then he looked up my number and called me.
He said, "do you have a silver car blah blah blah" and I said, "yes indeed I do."
Funny how coincidences work and serendipities line up.
--
Then the spider thing happened. And that is still creeping me out a little bit. And then something else happened which was weird and I shouldn't even mention it here cuz I'm not going to go into details, but suffice it to say I was upset. Maybe a little more than upset. Livid might be a good word to use.
---
But things ended great cuz I went on an evening hike with Tom that ended with delicious dinner and a splitting of a great bottle of Spanish red. And meaty meaty talks of this, of that, of buddhism and of what not.
I'm always up for talking about the what not.
Monday, May 09, 2005
eight legs and i'm squeak-screaming bejeezus
So, I'm sitting at my computer, minding my own business, and who should come crawling up and over the monitor but a large, light-brown, gushy-legged spider. As fast as I could I pushed my chair back and did some kind of squeaky scream. I hate spiders. And right before my eyes what did it do (before I had time to grab a shoe, a kleenex, a shoe, a ruler, a gun, a shoe....) but drop down the face of the monitor and lickety split disappear between the keys of my keyboard.
MY KEYBOARD, PEOPLE.
I squeaked again, and not because I wanted to or thought to or anything -- I learned today -- just minutes ago really -- that I squeak when I am paralyzed with spider fear. For a complete mental picture, imagine me holding the back of my chair (an aeron, don't forget that important piece of the visualization) between me and the keyboard -- you know -- to stay safer.
So I'm standing there and it's slowly dawning on me. Oh shit. And then, holy mother of god. The devil himself has crawled underneath the beloved keys of my keyboard. With all my might and bravery, I turned the keyboard over to shake it -- maybe the nasty spider will tumble out like a bit of cookie. No. So I shook again. This way and that. Tapped the back of the keyboard. No spider. No cookie.
I put the keyboard back down. I try to catch my breath. I don't take my eyes off of that keyboard (which seems to have its own pulse now -- is it breathing too?). And what did I see but a toe peaking out underneath the alt key. That fucking spider had the balls to stick a toe out at me. No - not just one toe, two toes. Two spider toes. Right there.
Squeak squeak.
So I did the only thing worth doing: I started hitting keys. Not with my fingers, but with the end of one of those tape lint brushes (important to have on hand when you own the king of shed, Chapin McShedster, Siamese Shedder Extraordinaire). Toes gone. Spider not gone cuz when I peered closely (as closely as I could, being the big arachnaphobic baby that I am) I noticed the toes had moved to the opposite end of the keyboard and were now hanging ten between the shift and the z.
Begin hitting shift and z keys. Throw in a few good beats of x, c, a, s, and d for good measure. Once again toes gone.
By now I'm realizing that the keyboard may be toast. I may have to throw out this keyboard. I like this keyboard. But I like my sanity more and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to type my needed typing knowing that the eight-legged spawn of satan was plotting human slaughter underneath the letter G or perhaps H. God forbid he set up shop underneath that function row.
My solution was one part truce and two parts denial. I did the only other reasonable thing. I went downstairs and booted up the laptop (oh thank you thank you thank you lap top for being in my life and right there available.) But the laptop took severe steps of betrayal and refused to log on to the router. No internet. So there is me, downstairs on the couch, traiterous lap top on my lap, infected keyboard upstairs, no internet connection.... And this is where the two-parts denial comes into play. I convinced myself in the time it took me to boot up the lap tap and try to connect to the internet multiple times the spider used its superevil spider noggin and high-tailed it out of the keyboard (I mean, the toes had been a sign, right, that he'd wanted to evacuatate ASAP, right? right?).
So after a serious under the keyboard cleaning (as well as I could) and several more upside down shaking, I am once again in front of the should-be quarantined keyboard. BUT -- BUT -- my fingers are tense. Tense I tell you. And arched. They're all tense and arched and dancing over the keyboard, just like my own version of spiderlegs. And I hope that the spider vamoosed (no cannot consider where creepy mccreepster might have creeped off to) or that his little spider carcass is being smashed to bits under the tap dance of my typewriting.
So, I'm sitting at my computer, minding my own business, and who should come crawling up and over the monitor but a large, light-brown, gushy-legged spider. As fast as I could I pushed my chair back and did some kind of squeaky scream. I hate spiders. And right before my eyes what did it do (before I had time to grab a shoe, a kleenex, a shoe, a ruler, a gun, a shoe....) but drop down the face of the monitor and lickety split disappear between the keys of my keyboard.
MY KEYBOARD, PEOPLE.
I squeaked again, and not because I wanted to or thought to or anything -- I learned today -- just minutes ago really -- that I squeak when I am paralyzed with spider fear. For a complete mental picture, imagine me holding the back of my chair (an aeron, don't forget that important piece of the visualization) between me and the keyboard -- you know -- to stay safer.
So I'm standing there and it's slowly dawning on me. Oh shit. And then, holy mother of god. The devil himself has crawled underneath the beloved keys of my keyboard. With all my might and bravery, I turned the keyboard over to shake it -- maybe the nasty spider will tumble out like a bit of cookie. No. So I shook again. This way and that. Tapped the back of the keyboard. No spider. No cookie.
I put the keyboard back down. I try to catch my breath. I don't take my eyes off of that keyboard (which seems to have its own pulse now -- is it breathing too?). And what did I see but a toe peaking out underneath the alt key. That fucking spider had the balls to stick a toe out at me. No - not just one toe, two toes. Two spider toes. Right there.
Squeak squeak.
So I did the only thing worth doing: I started hitting keys. Not with my fingers, but with the end of one of those tape lint brushes (important to have on hand when you own the king of shed, Chapin McShedster, Siamese Shedder Extraordinaire). Toes gone. Spider not gone cuz when I peered closely (as closely as I could, being the big arachnaphobic baby that I am) I noticed the toes had moved to the opposite end of the keyboard and were now hanging ten between the shift and the z.
Begin hitting shift and z keys. Throw in a few good beats of x, c, a, s, and d for good measure. Once again toes gone.
By now I'm realizing that the keyboard may be toast. I may have to throw out this keyboard. I like this keyboard. But I like my sanity more and there was no way in hell I was going to be able to type my needed typing knowing that the eight-legged spawn of satan was plotting human slaughter underneath the letter G or perhaps H. God forbid he set up shop underneath that function row.
My solution was one part truce and two parts denial. I did the only other reasonable thing. I went downstairs and booted up the laptop (oh thank you thank you thank you lap top for being in my life and right there available.) But the laptop took severe steps of betrayal and refused to log on to the router. No internet. So there is me, downstairs on the couch, traiterous lap top on my lap, infected keyboard upstairs, no internet connection.... And this is where the two-parts denial comes into play. I convinced myself in the time it took me to boot up the lap tap and try to connect to the internet multiple times the spider used its superevil spider noggin and high-tailed it out of the keyboard (I mean, the toes had been a sign, right, that he'd wanted to evacuatate ASAP, right? right?).
So after a serious under the keyboard cleaning (as well as I could) and several more upside down shaking, I am once again in front of the should-be quarantined keyboard. BUT -- BUT -- my fingers are tense. Tense I tell you. And arched. They're all tense and arched and dancing over the keyboard, just like my own version of spiderlegs. And I hope that the spider vamoosed (no cannot consider where creepy mccreepster might have creeped off to) or that his little spider carcass is being smashed to bits under the tap dance of my typewriting.
overheard
phone conference arrangements
tr: Let me know how late you will be available to do the threesome phone
call? I'm hoping it won't it be too long from now. Please wear sexy lingerie or nothing.
i'm doing a volunteer project with a friend. these are the type of email i get, checking my availability for a conference call (two of us dialing in from our separate home offices). i laugh and then i laugh at my laughing. cuz this would so not fly in a real situation. and then you gotta wonder what is real and what is not?
phone conference arrangements
tr: Let me know how late you will be available to do the threesome phone
call? I'm hoping it won't it be too long from now. Please wear sexy lingerie or nothing.
i'm doing a volunteer project with a friend. these are the type of email i get, checking my availability for a conference call (two of us dialing in from our separate home offices). i laugh and then i laugh at my laughing. cuz this would so not fly in a real situation. and then you gotta wonder what is real and what is not?
burnin' up the countryside, burning up the highways?
burning up the parkinglots
NPR did a whole segment on the brothers who create Homestar Runner. I know a few of you need to hear the interview.
» Homestar Guys on NPR
NPR did a whole segment on the brothers who create Homestar Runner. I know a few of you need to hear the interview.
» Homestar Guys on NPR
Friday, May 06, 2005
overheard
kinda, through email
tom: Also big movie night at Dan’s – House of flying daggnerds His house 8 – 8:30 your presence is required by the all knowing supreme potentate TOM. Resistance futile.
wyeth: I don't care what you smoke or how many tents you've eaten, I don't think the new title's goin' to stick...
kinda, through email
tom: Also big movie night at Dan’s – House of flying daggnerds His house 8 – 8:30 your presence is required by the all knowing supreme potentate TOM. Resistance futile.
wyeth: I don't care what you smoke or how many tents you've eaten, I don't think the new title's goin' to stick...
Tuesday, May 03, 2005
yet another reason i love brezny
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Of all the world's landlocked countries, only one maintains a navy: Bolivia. Until 1879, it had a seaport, but lost it in a war with Chile. Over a century later, it has thousands of sailors but only a single sea-worthy ship, which it keeps docked in Argentina a thousand miles away. Its quixotic fixity of purpose seems to be a symbolic declaration that it intends to someday once again have land bordering the ocean. I see a certain resemblance between Bolivia and you right now, Virgo. You also cling fiercely to a starry-eyed commitment that might appear unrealistic to casual observers. The difference is that your dream, as opposed to Bolivia's, is not entirely hopeless. You will receive a sign this week that reveals why.
VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): Of all the world's landlocked countries, only one maintains a navy: Bolivia. Until 1879, it had a seaport, but lost it in a war with Chile. Over a century later, it has thousands of sailors but only a single sea-worthy ship, which it keeps docked in Argentina a thousand miles away. Its quixotic fixity of purpose seems to be a symbolic declaration that it intends to someday once again have land bordering the ocean. I see a certain resemblance between Bolivia and you right now, Virgo. You also cling fiercely to a starry-eyed commitment that might appear unrealistic to casual observers. The difference is that your dream, as opposed to Bolivia's, is not entirely hopeless. You will receive a sign this week that reveals why.
new music and fan love
Finally! Downloaded the new Mike Doughty cd Haughty Melodic. Doughty was the frontman for Soul Coughing, a band that left me in a dizzy state of perpetual car dance. I love his voice. I love his quirky lyrics. I love Mike Doughty.
Which got me to thinking about how much I love the quirky singers. Mike Doughty, yes. And how about Chris Ballew of the Presidents of the United States of America? Love him. How about John McCrea of Cake? Super love him. How about Frank Orrall of Poi Dog Pondering? Don't even get me started as I was fan-crazed and frothy-mouthed over him for several years. :)
What? Should I be embarrassed? I suppose the answer is yes, but whatever. It's my story.
Finally! Downloaded the new Mike Doughty cd Haughty Melodic. Doughty was the frontman for Soul Coughing, a band that left me in a dizzy state of perpetual car dance. I love his voice. I love his quirky lyrics. I love Mike Doughty.
Which got me to thinking about how much I love the quirky singers. Mike Doughty, yes. And how about Chris Ballew of the Presidents of the United States of America? Love him. How about John McCrea of Cake? Super love him. How about Frank Orrall of Poi Dog Pondering? Don't even get me started as I was fan-crazed and frothy-mouthed over him for several years. :)
What? Should I be embarrassed? I suppose the answer is yes, but whatever. It's my story.
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