Spent about two hours on Tuesday night video-chatting/Skyping with lunamorada and cassalyn, being transfixed by technology and the various sounds you can or cannot hear while videochatting, as well as what might be the profound metaphor of the impossibility of looking into each other's eyes when you're both on camera. I missed the Mabel house. Wednesday, Jesse and I did dinner at an Afghani place in Sunnyvale, and stopped at India Cash and Carry for groceries afterwards. I brilliantly forgot my credit card at the Indian dessert shop next door and now need to work an extra trip up to the South Bay into my weekend to retrieve it.

Took a mental health day yesterday. Cassalyn asked me if taking care of myself was my #1 priority. Yesterday that meant playing piano, dusting, and drinking tea at Octolu's while doing writing exercises with Lisa and self-consciously waiting for certain busy people to IM or text me.

I harvested all of our ripe chilies last weekend, and our pumpkins. Preparing to make lots of salsa, pie, empanadas, and chili-pumpkin soup. We cooked Indian food TWICE this week and have so many leftovers that we're out of tupperware.

A poem from Jane Miller and harvests from our yard.

Blanks for New Things

She wondered how to make the new faithful to the original.
Everything seemed so much itself, and already something else.

Life became thicker and thicker over time. My fidelities to her
and to the whole place became extremities of the same god.

While she heard voices I was swooning, there was this seduction
by the shells, the stones, the wind, aided by our thirst. Now

there is more than the protagonist and the foil, there's material
in a visual shuffle. This is our perfect life, she said, and said,

I would do it again. It's a narrative which concerns itself
with the events of five minutes, missing April or December.

All of a sudden you're in real time. She puts her arm around me, to
comfort me, while I'm stuck.

Eight evenings of the heavens burning. Do we make a pact?
I'm pure space, you be the battleground. Horrors, of the kind

after summer when vines entangle your ankles, grapes pucker
your lips; I'm not going to play in the game, I think I know

when I thought I said I was thinking of talking to you.
Not to remember would be more painful.

You think you're going to be with your dog after the war.
Don't take time so personally.

Sorry for changing my livejournal layouts so often. I'm trying to decide on a good one. What do you all think of this? Also? I'm 3 entries away from my 1000th post.

There's a dark, windy, howling storm outside that's supposed to go on for a few days, one that I hope our garden will survive. Because I would like to pick homegrown marigolds for my Day of the Dead altar this year.

Unless it's been going on for week after cabin feverish week, rain tends to energize me more than sunshine. This could be because when it's sunny out, I feel pressure to do a million "outside" things, whereas the rain gives me an excuse to be cozy and reflective and take care of myself, something I have been neglecting to do a lot this year. It was actually kind of difficult being in Tucson last weekend because I was really confronted with how obscenely happy I had been there, and how much energy (and time!) I had to do all sorts of extracurriculars. Cooking and crafting and training for 100 mile bike rides. Poetry parties, pumpkin carving parties, gingerbread house parties . . . .

Lately I haven't had the emotional or mental energy to do any of that. I haven't even read a complete book in over a month. This weekend, I wasn't quite sure what all we had in the fridge, it had been so long since I cooked anything. But I want to. I've at least gotten a little better at catching up with friends. I've had several very encouraging and warm phone calls with lunamorada, myammie01, and meiqimichelle. Still owe talesanddreams and punkrockfinn a call, and probably lots of other people. Last week's mail brought me two mix CDs from dear friends, and a 3-day Sarah McLachlan Surfacing kick. I'm trying to learn how to be alive.

Spent last weekend in Tucson wandering 4th ave., attending a rainy wedding in Sierra Vista, seeing Molehill Orkestrah at Club Crawl, and eating brunch with Jesse's family in their sunny very-Arizona backyard. It's cold and windy outside. I have dishes to wash and paper journalling to catch up on.

Sorry, guys, I was going to post about the Tucson weekend and a bunch of other things, but I have to talk about this first:

( Tonight's Office Wedding episode )

Okay, so it isn't really snowing in Tucson and won't be for awhile, but it is raining. And I stepped outside to Jesse's parents' backyard this morning to breathe in the creosote air. I'm about to go for a walk to do that some more. I got teary-eyed as the plane descended into the Old Pueblo last night, pressing my face to the window trying to figure out which deep glittery boulevard was speedway. Jesse picked me up, and we got to La Indita 5 minutes after it closed, wandered aimlessly around Time Market for a bit without buying anything and then just came home. It's beautiful here and my heart is aching. I'm here for barely 46 hours. Got a wedding in Sierra Vista today, a brunch with all of Jesse's family tomorrow morning, and some standard Tucson adventures in between. Meanwhile, it's also Club Crawl and the Glow Festival and the Enemies Friends of the Library Booksale, and everything that ever happens in Tucson except All Souls and Meet Yourself is happening this weekend.

I continue to be mesmerized by the fog. Driving down from campus, you can see it spreading inland from the bay. Tonight it looked almost like an apocalyptic vortex, with high soupy almost tactile-looking walls of clouds pouring into the city. When you're inside it, it blows through you. Sometimes you can see wisps of it wrapping around trees. It makes it hard to believe that just this afternoon I was sweating in the sunlit office courtyard. I want it to feel like fall so I'm buying clothes and lighting candles. I'm way behind in my paper journal. I'm thinking a lot about how to recognize what you need and want and how to "own" that. I'm pondering the mythical implications of finding a snake in your bathroom on Rosh Hashana and having it hang out there for three days until your lover takes it out to the fig tree. I'm trying to talk more. A year ago when I was watching Season 3 of The Office, I was inspired (and got one of those epiphanies that I usually am embarrassed about getting from a TV show) from Pam's coal walk speech. And I've gone back to it when I want to give myself a boost of courage and honesty. This has definitely been my year for that. I've done pretty well with the courage part, though I think I could work on the honesty.

Understanding privilege and "luxurious dilemmas" and all that, I'm scared that I don't know where I'll be this time next year. Excited to be able to imagine myself in any city, exploring. But intimidated by decisions to be made.

What I want:
Play piano more
Pick blackberries
Make salsa with the tomatoes, tomatillos and chilies from the garden
Cook more
Give the house a big scrubbrushy psychic cleansing
Write letters to people
Call people
Make postsecrets
Make mix CDs
Hang all the pretty art I got in Portland
Start a new book
Make a good Halloween costume
Be appreciative

Student occupation of UCSC and UC-Berkeley



(from)

and here

"-- At UC Santa Cruz, over 500 students, faculty and staff walked out and picketed the main entrance to the school before marching through campus. As this report was being compiled, a small group of students began an occupation of the Graduate Student Commons, supported by 250 supporters who had just received word that police were on their way."

from here

And now students are occupying the Grad Student Commons!

Idea stolen from Lisa

Weekend:
Watched Junebug at 11 on Friday night, which made me dream I was in labor and Amy Adams was my midwife. Found a garter snake hanging out under our bathroom sink. S/he's still there.

Morning run in the fog on Saturday. We have about a 5-6 hour sun window around here now. Fog doesn't burn off till about noon or one and then at 6 it rolls right back in again. Haircut - I have bangs again! Last barbecue of the summer at Peter's house. Best quote of the night from two girls both named Katie: "We're leaving because we can't eat or drink anything."

Lazy Sunday morning and spontaneous trip up to Davenport for an expensive but worth it lunch and taking pictures of the church. Afternoon writing and tea with Lisa at Octolu's. Veggie gyoza for dinner and Firefly.

Everything's cold and cozy. Goodbye, summer of 2009.

Two years ago today, Jesse and I pulled our giant Penske truck into the driveway of the house we now live in. I've now been a Santa Cruz resident for longer than I lived in Tucson. (That may be debatable if you count my undergrad semester there). And on top of that, it's Rosh Hoshannah. So tonight seems very appropriate for reflection on the past year (or two) marked by semi-arbitrary dates.

When I moved here, I was mourning my Tucson community, the Mabel house, and a carefree artist/student life. I had to look for a full-time job, unpack shit, go out and learn a whole new town, do tedious adult things like smog check my ancient car and learn how to live with the person I had been in a long-distance relationship with for 3 and a half years. Some part of me was happy to be in a new city, in a house 2 blocks from the ocean, but mostly I was anxious, panicky, a little lonely and very exhausted. Now I have a garden and a social life. I'm taking piano lessons and writing and hiking. I still look at pictures of the Tucson sky or my grad school friends and get pangs of nostalgia, though. I've learned to make Santa Cruz my home for a time, but even with the ocean and the generous gardening soil, I haven't fallen in love. Maybe I'm unfairly comparing it to an incandescent early-20s epoch in the desert, but don't you compare everything to your first love anyway?

Tonight I'm in my pajamas, drinking ginger tea, missing a lot of people, feeling the seasons change once again. The air smells like eucalyptus, ocean brine, blackberries and dying leaves. It's a smell that still reminds me of my first few weeks here, applying for jobs and then starting at WAWC. At work now, the leaves are turning red and yellow. Fall is my favorite season in Santa Cruz. It's time to listen to October Project and Loreena McKennitt and Tannahill Weavers again and all that Celtic music that for some reason reminds me of Tucson. This summer was hot, dizzying and metamorphic. I barely feel like I've gotten caught up in my journal since May. So I'm looking forward to things quieting down for a bit. I'm excited to wear my beloved red pea coat again, and dust off my polka-dotted rainboots. Because what are emotional shifts and cycles if they are not accessorized?

Loved the new office episode tonight. Favorite line was probably:

Erin: I'm so glad you're eating again
Kelly: ME TOO

Also
Andy's latent homosexuality/Brad Pitt fantasy
Oscar (You think I'm the voice of the taco bell dog?)
The whole opening sequence
Dwight
the interns
Jim and Pam's shotgun wedding plans
"Did you pee on a stick?" "I did, but it was inconclusive."

Wish it had been an hour episode though.

I have two weekends ahead of me in which I am not travelling! That will be very nice. The summer's over in 3 days. Weird.

Spent a week and a half in the Bavarian Alps in the tiny town of Garmisch-Partenkirchen, Germany with my family. Got to see my mom, who's on leave from Iraq, and traipse around 3 European countries. We spent two days in Venice, and drove through Austria. Saw the full moon rise over the dolomites while getting horribly lost on a winding mountain pass in Rovereto. Drank beer in Innsbruck. Took a gondola ride. Saw St. Mark's Basilica and the Arsenale. Hiked in the rainy misty mountains. Listened to cows shaking their cowbells at a gasthaus while eating apfelstreudel. Did a really really hard ropes course. Toured Neuschwanstein. More pictures and stories to come later, I'm sure!

Getting on a plane to Munich tomorrow!

The weekend. Gilmore Girls "Raincoats and Recipes" because it is my favorite episode ever. Then out to the Rush Inn dive bar to celebrate the 6 year anniversary of the day Jesse and I met. We drank beer, half-watched a censored closed-captioned Fight Club ("I'm so sick of your -deleted-!"), tried to avoid the smoke EVERYONE was smoking, and made a list of camping supplies to buy for next time.

Yoga. Tea and journaling at Octolu's, downtown shopping. The freezing cold pacific ocean and a bikini in the hot afternoon. Jesse in a wetsuit. No joke. biking downtown, Julie and Julia with Gina, Saturn cafe, lemon poppyseed and glazed vegan donuts.

Morning fog, watering the garden in a precious hoodie, good phone calls with Julie and family, peach smoothies, room cleaning, more clothes shopping, writing time with Portland Lisa. Eggplant mozzarella tomato basil tortillas, Skordalia, pad thai dinner, Gus Van Sant's Elephant.

Despite the wildfires and the bitch-ass-hot heat, it smells like fall lately. And I'm so ready for it. I leave for Germany in three days. When I come back, the blackberries will have colonized the yard and the fridge. The row of trees across from the yoga studio will match the terra cotta tiles on the roof of the school. The air will smell like eucalyptus, sea brine, and grass and it'll bring me back to Fall of '07 again and applying for the WAWC job and then I'll smile because I'm not there anymore, bitchez. I'm so sick of your deleted.

P.S. My arm's not really broken

so, besides camping, since i last saw you . . .
played outdoor nighttime tiki-torch scrabble with Jesse and blankets and hot chocolate. I think he won but that's not important. Saw at least three falling stars during the Perseids shower. Took it as a sign of . . .something. But I'm doing that a lot lately. Taking things as signs. Bought a fuckton of vinyl, mostly Simon and Garfunkel, Billie Holiday and Duke Ellington. Still on the hunt for Pet Sounds, Graceland, and most of Neko Case and Mirah.

Am re-reading Dangerous Angels because it's the 20-year anniversary of Weetzie Bat's publication. They are definitely a lot more ridiculous than I remembered, but still some of the best reading for young adults I could recommend. Even with the tendency towards cloying obsessive language, "noble savage" characters like Coyote Dream Song, and the fact that pretty much every book in the series has a "magic negro" (or other P.O.C.) who helps the white main characters realize their dreams and desires, even with the absurdly implausible teenage sex scenes (I'm sorry, but nobody's first time is like "one ocean rocking them, tossing them, an ocean of liquid coral roses") even with all that, I'd still want my teenagers reading these books. Because they're about taking risks, accepting yourself and your "darkness," bravery, creativity, and love. Things that I needed to be reading about when I was 15. Things that I find myself needing again now at 26.

I've made a lot of cryptic comments lately about "big decisions" and "life changes" and "zucchini." Which is not meant to be opaque but just that I'm going through one of those chrysalises (chrysali? chrysalissessses?) again. And one of the things I keep getting confronted with, a fairly pedestrian dilemma of the young, privileged, educated white girl, is that almost everyone i love is far away from me. And this is never going to change.

And while it's wonderful to have a couch to crash on in every city, a sweetheart in every port, and an excuse to travel all over the goddamn country, i'm greedy. I want everyone I care about to live close to me. I've been horrid at keeping touch with people. I have phone-phobias and feel like I never have time and facebook is so shiny.

I have no idea how much longer I'm staying in Santa Cruz. Jesse's probably going to finish school in March, and graduate in June. Do I leave in the spring? Do I go to Pennsylvania? Tucson? Some other crazy place? Is it a good idea to let go of this cushy, very-well-paid job in this kind of economy? Maybe I stay as long as I can and save up as much as I can. Wait out the recession by the ocean. I don't knowwwww. Wah wah whine whine I have too many good options to choose from and my arm's broken.

Let's say that starting four years of long distance right out of the gate in our relationship gave Jesse and me some bad habits. Like not ever going camping together. So on Saturday we packed our new car with what appeared to be an absurd amount of gear and food for just one night in the Pinnacles National Monument, but almost all of which we used or ate.

We had been planning on Big Sur, but it was full, so Friday night we searched for a backup plan, crossing our fingers against an awkward, disappointing car ride all over California in search of a park. But the Pinnacles was perfect, and I got to stamp my cute little National Parks Passport that I've now had for 10 years and which has already run out of room in the Western States section.



And really, who needs the crowded beach? We hiked to the Balconies Cliffs (see 1st photo) the first day, and clambered through the caves with our flashlights. And the second day we hiked up through Condor Gulch while trying to identify the trees and the birds and talking about sex, mistletoe, The Weetzie Bat Books, and the Norse Baldr myth. We identified a Pacific Madrone, an Oregon Oak, a Stellar's Jay, maybe a condor, a knobcone pine and a grey pine. I took at least 5 pictures of dead white tree trunks.



We made pancakes for breakfast and eggs for lunch and toasted smores and watched the Ken Burns National Park documentary at the amphitheatre. The opening act was an 8 year old kid doing shadow puppets on the projector screen while the rangers tried to make the DVD players talk to each other.

I loved the russets, greys, golds and black greens in the landscape, the overcast but warm days, and the way you could feel like it was fall. I'm ready for summer to be over. We drove back along highway 156, through Tres Pinos and Paicines. On either side of us were contours of brown grassy Mediterranean hills with the occasional farmhouse and tractor. When I first came to California eight years ago, I was freaked out by the landscape. I thought summer warmth meant "green." The brown on brown instead of thick midatlantic barefeet-welcome grass made me claustrophobic and I couldn't characterize the climate. I feel like I've matured into the west, and can actually appreciate its beauty.



As always, more pictures on my flickr and facebook.

I've seen 13 going on 30 twice. And both times, as soon as the opening chords of "Vienna" start, I burst into tears.

Oh and by the way, I sold Ass. My car of seven years that got me from Pottstown to Indiana to Tucson to Palo Alto to Santa Cruz and into which I've sunk loads and loads of money to repair. Now Jesse and I have his parents' old car, a lovely Toyota Camry that I have yet to name.

Me and Ass saying goodbye.