Tourquey Day

Gratitude is an all-directional activity. Thankful for what we have, what we had, and since things have always been good, what we will have.

Chanel No. Five

Saw a Chanel ad yesterday on Hulu that superimposed a Marilyn Monroe quote about wearing No. Five to bed onto old black and white photos of her. It's not a surprise her presence long recedes her--the woman was an icon. But it sort of blew my mind that that little part of her entire life has receded so far into the future. The bombshell used Chanel No. Five. Marketable info for decades.

I wonder how heavily Marilyn considered taking on that ad campaign. Maybe she really did love Chanel No. Five, and she was happy to support it. Maybe she looked at all the zeros on the contract and happily signed away, a foster kid from the 30s. There's a slight chance she didn't want to degrade herself to a commercial, but it was a ritzy one. So? I wonder if it ran through her mind, "It's just a commercial, what does it matter in the course of my life?" Little did she know she didn't even have much life left. Or maybe she did know, and that was the point. Regardless, maybe she knew when she passed at age 36 we'd still be talking about her fifty years later. But even if she did, could she have imagined me? A 90s kid watching her ghost rep perfume and womanhood in general? I don't know the person who invented the creative behind the ad to begin with. He might be dead too. Could he picture me? Just because he has no face or name to the world at large doesn't mean what he did doesn't matter. It matters big. Or at least it did yesterday morning when I thought all these things in conjunction to his work. Legacy is part of the American Dream. A problematic, unhappiness suck of a black hole. But legacy need not be sought. It is part of existing.

Friends hula-hooping. November 2013.

Forks

Suns are setting. This was a particularly amazing one a couple weeks ago.

What kinda scale compares the weight of two beauties,

the gravity of duties,

or the groundspeed of joy?

Crunch

Not sure how many times I've eaten

at the student union Taco Bell.

A lot

I guess. But I hadn't been since

last January.

Not because I'm being healthier

or something. Just because I got tired of it.

"I'm eating healthy all week," I had announced

because I had a monster of a diet

this weekend thanks

to speech tournament judging, a Friendsgiving,

general Sunday ice cream couchtime.

And I didn't feel good.

Then yesterday as my shift at work ended

I was just

ravenous

for

only

Taco Bell.

So I made my way over and realized

I never see this side of campus anymore.

I saw a student from work in the distance.

When I run into them not in the context of their disability I think

some stuff

about people.

I sat outside at a two-person metal table

in the shade.

A girl came out right after me,

had to sit at the next table back.

I opened the crunchwrap. A bird

pooped on my arm.

If I hadn't been there,

it would have been the gal behind me

wearing a long-sleeve blouse.

Ran into Hill by the theatre office.

Pop cup in hand, I explained, "I was going to eat healthy all week."

Haha, taco cravings! I gestured to the Coke.

She texted me last night:

"I may have Taco Bell today for the first time in forever.

You have shaped the future."

Instead

This morning gifted me a particularly beautiful Arizona run. The week is starting. A big week. I was pounding out anxiety and grump and hope. My iPod was on shuffle, and this little gem caught my ear. Perfect. So perfect. It was from a fat playlist of albums Lazz gave me right before I moved far away from the Midwest.

Oh, I wish I had a suntan.
I wish I had a pizza and a bottle of wine.
I wish I had a beach house.
Then we could make a big fire every night.

Instead I'm just crazy. I'm totally mad.
Yeah, I'm just crazy, and ______ in the head.
And maybe if I really try with all of my heart
then I could make a brand new start in love with you.

Live Life to the Fullest

Sleepless in Seattle

Cannot sleep. Sending class emails and trying to grade. But it's so late for grading.

I miss AIM. I do! You could say texting is the new AIM, but in times like this it's not. There used to be a place you could go, a thing you could log into, and you'd find everyone else who was down to talk--whenever that may be. I'm not interested in sending half a dozen creepy "You up?" texts. Sometimes you just want to feel like it's not only you in this world of insomnia. Or! Sometimes you want to graze on a conversation over homework. GChat is so important and quick. AIM was lazy. AIM was multi-task. I miss the rush of seeing the bestie, the bf, the old pal on. It was special. It felt written in the stars, or at least in a blog. Having access to everyone makes us less accessible, kills a baby of the fun.

The Difference

Tonight was impromptu ladies night in our bungalow. Pake walked through the front door with Ro right as Rora and I were sitting down on the couch. I had a huge bowl of spinach. Fistfuls of cooked spinach. I can never get through those huge boxes, but, oh, do I try.

Naturally we talked about stealing and the petty crimes we did or didn't commit as teens. Then it was time for that reality TV show about Gypsy weddings. Fascinating. Pake left and we got to talking more. No TV, no music. Ro shopped us a question she'd been considering: What do you think is the one quality you hope people see you as? What do you think that is currently?

And I guess what's the most interesting is that...there's a difference there. We know what we want to be, but we're probably not there yet. Rora kind of is. She's so great. I might be partially there, and it's not like I think I'm a Tremor*, but it's a long road. Or, actually, it isn't? We could all just be it? The seeming length of the journey to just BE is an illusion akin to the red staircase leading to the third Bowser in Mario 64.

They're good questions to ask. They're...important questions to ask.

Party time. September 2013.

It's important to reiterate how good it feels to live with women at this time in my life. The first time I really really felt this was my junior year in college. My roommate and I had the same schedule and we would get up, go to the gym, breakfast, and walk to class all together. Pretty cute actually. This meant I was on her sleep patterns more than my boyfriend's, and I gained so much from those sacred nights of laying in the dark, talking across the room from our twins. I was house president that quarter, and in a fit of guilt about my own power, I shafted myself with the worst room on the second floor. It was so tiny. But I'm glad we were only feet apart. We talked about so much. It was important.

The girls just went to bed. I'm an adult and my roommates have their own doors, but we have a living room. It is holy ground.

FYI, my answers: A Good Resource; Fair.

*Tremor as in land monster a la the films.

Happy Birthday, Daddio

Texts, September 14, 2013

ME: What's up in [my dad's town]? I miss [the town] most in fall.

DAD: I am wearing my first flannel shirt of the season. Went to ____ to look at storm doors. Got a Culver's shake. Now on the couch to watch more of Homeland season 2.

ME: You're having the perfect day.

ME: Would love to be there.

DAD: I wish you were here.

DAD: Anytime.

Lamplight

Sometimes it feels like I could travel the entire galaxy and only be a hair closer to finding a light for the darkness. Even then, the light is barely flickering. One little teacup candle, far far away. In a windstorm. By a fan. And then the person sitting right next to me just, like, has a lamp.

Take a tip from me, don't go through the park

when you're on you're own. It's a long walk home.

Starfish: A Modern Parable

A young boy woke one morning craving to see his old friend the ocean. He wiggled into a sweater, laced his sneaks, and made for the beach. It was early morning, calm. But the previous night had apparently not been so. Thousands of starfish lay on the beach, drying slowly in the rising sun. They must have been tossed from their lives by a storm, and, now, they were goners. The boy sadly walked along the water's edge observing the loss of so many tiny lives.

Then he noticed a figure just down the bend. He started jogging. As the boy came closer, he realized the figure was a man, hard at work, picking up starfish that weren't just finished yet and throwing them back to the water. The man moved with focus, determination. The boy watched a few moments and the man continued to work and the beach continued to look basically the same despite the efforts of this stranger.

"Excuse me, sir," the boy said.

The man barely paused to look over and kept searching for the next creature. "Yes?" he murmured.

"It's just...you're working so hard. But there are thousands. It will not matter."

The man looked at the starfish in his hand. "It matters to this one," he said as he sent the little star soaring over the blue tides. Then he smiled. The boy smiled too. The man let out a fat guffaw. "NAH," he boomed. "Truthfully, I just really like chuckin' starfish."

And then the man laughed. Laughed a lot. "Wait, what?" thought the boy. But the man kept laughing. In good spirits the boy joined in. The man cackled. Like, an uncomfortable amount? The boy felt like he really didn't have another option other than to also keep laughing? The man's face turned red. The boy's too, out of sheer terror. Oh my God, is that a gun in his sock? Why didn't I notice his ICP t-shirt? Am I gonna die today?! Is today really the day I'm gonna

Questions about Experiencing Things

1. If you discuss doing something with someone, and then you do it with someone else, do you suck? Even if there was no specific plan? Even if it's a thing you will do again (go to a restaurant)?
2. What are the benefits of experiencing something new with someone else who is also fresh to it? Benefits of experiencing things with someone who knows whasup? Benefits of being a knowledgable person in said scenario? Think about this in the context of travel.
3. Should you reserve some pieces of life to experience with certain people? The first person you tell big news to, for example. You will tell everyone, does it matter who you happen to inform first?
4. Can you ever erase initial experiences and replace with better ones?
5. What if there are things you want to experience alone, or at least for the first time? Is this offensive/ are you a sociopath?