And now for something completely pointless...

July 6
Nothing to report, I passed a wonderfully uneventful weekend sleeping, reading, and daydreaming as I watched the scenery outside my picture window. Now I'm doing much the same as the dusk sets in and the clouds settle on the hills in the distance. There's a nice soft breeze rustling through the odd little wilderness that sits outside my window and separates AV from the ARC, peaceful in comparison to the blustering of earlier this afternoon which blew my framed pictures off the wall. It's quiet now; there's no one at the ARC's outdoor basketball court, there's no sound of pucks and sticks hitting the boards at the rink, and the familiar ring of softballs on aluminum has subsided. Just the wind in the trees and the chirping of crickets. Peaceful. Those sounds on a summer night always remind me of the summer vacations in Missouri; the heat lightning; the sound of the train as it blew through tiny little Ethel in the middle of the night, the conductor laying on the horn; family reunions with softball, unknown relatives, tornadoes, and so much potato salad it made you wonder how Idaho isn't the wealthiest state in the union. And summers in New York; my grandpa's boat on Lake George, the jumping rock, more family reunions, more unknown realtives, more potato salad. And everything so green...Missouri, New York, Maine, more green than I'd ever seen growing up in that little valley town on the edge of the desert. Some how that is summer, the crickets, the wind in the trees, and of course, every possible variety of potato salad.

June 29                                         Tales from the Homeland and Random Pictures
    Yeah, I went home. It'd been awhile too, long enough to make the smell of the dairy farms on the way into town oddly exciting (which now I find slightly disturbing). But yeah, digression... so once I got past the smell of cows...and then the smell of alfalfa...and past the giant spotlights at the casino...and the giant Catholic church in the middle of a field...and actually got home, it was good times. I hung out with the fam, watched the loveliness that is cable television, got my hair cut (more on this later), went to Stater Bros. (woohoo for cheap groceries!), went to the movies with my parents and little brother, visited the huge new Hemet public library (it's beautiful, it just looks out of place, but then...that's Hemet), took the quads up the mountain to Pine Cove for some trail riding and a picnic by a little creek, went swimming with my nieces AKA the cutest things ever, and Hannah is walking; it's so heart-breakingly amazing to watch her all smiley and laughing as she toddles over to you...aww, so great.
    But yeah, I'm focusing, back to random and pointless things. So I went home, did all those things, then came back to Irvine and played with the ol' webcam for awhile because I was really bored. So here are some pics of my new room and my new haircut (kinda). Oh yeah, as for the hair, I said I wanted to shorten it up, and that's what I got...she said she was going to take about an inch off, but she just kept cutting.   So at least 5 or 6 six inches and a lot of layering later...it's definitely shorter, especially in front (though it's hard to tell in the pictures). So yeah, for those of you who have a history of not speaking to me for awhile after I chop my hair off (ahem, Ray), at least this time it's still curly, that's something. But I like it, it's kinda sassy, I feel young again...and maybe even a little saucy. Hmm.
   So I don't know where to go from there...but here are the pics from my webcam o' boredom, be sure to note the poor quality...

The room...

And the nut that lives there...

                       short hair...                                some tongue...             and the obligatory pensive, head tilt

Ah webcam....good times. Did I mention that it's boring here?

"Here in this diary
I write you visions of my summer..."
~ the ataris

June 15-16, 2003 Arroyo Vista: Night One

So here I am, AV. Weird. Three years in Middle Earth, and then in one day all my stuff is packed up, and here I am. Granted it's like a distance of 3 minutes, but it feels like another world. Call me crazy, but I heard birds signing and it wasn't the ear shattering mating cries of hoardes of crows at 5am. In all honesty, there are a lot of differences that are gonna take some getting used to. I'm already setting aside money for all the lock outs I'm gonna rack up with this two key system; I'd nearly forgetten keys came in the oddly-shaped metal variety too. And as for the card keys, I give it six months before I fully suppress the urge to dip, and become one with the upward swipe. But keys aside, I'm sitting here in my temporary room, getting an idea of how living single in a roomy double is going to be, and let's just say, I'm not hating it. Things are still a bit up in the air as far as my actual room goes, hopefully I'll be able to move in on Tuesday, until then I'll just picture it...maybe I'll have two desk...or two closets...or two beds/ one huge-ass bed, that would be cool. Let's see, other things about AV...the carpet in the rooms is nice and cushy, feels good on the toes...there's cable (gasp!! that alone makes me think that maybe I have found the promised land), VCR, and DVD player in the living room...there's no Pippin (which on the surface seems like a huge, HUGE plus, but then there's the thought of me having to cook, which in turns leads to the thought of me having to starve, and you see where the conflict comes in). So tomorrow I begin the work/orientation/AV-assimilation...this should be interesting. I'm a bit freaked about it, can I do this? I don't know anything about this place, how am I supposed to program for a community of people I don't understand? Freshmen I get, this is new. And then there's the whole being a supervisor thing...if this year taught me one thing, it's that it's hard to be fun when you're in charge, when you've got a lot of responsibilty... I mean how many boring meetings did I run this year? But yeah..a little nervous, a little glad, a little bored, and a little sad, that's me right now. I'm so glad that yesterday was the end of this year, even in 24 hours I feel more like myself again, my head is clear, I can breathe, I just feel freer. There were a lot of great things about the last nine months, and I'm sad to see so many people go, and sad that it'll be months or longer before I see some of you again, but I'm really relieved that it's over, now I can spend a little time doing my favorite thing ever....absolutely nothing...and hopefully the next time you see me, I'll be the happy, well-rested, smart-ass I should be.

June 18 ~ 1:15 am
So tonight I moved from my temporary room that smelled like funk cubed into my new, permanent room. Since AV only has doubles, and I get a single, I have twice the furniture...so now I have a bed, a desk, two closets, and the lounge area (i.e. couch-bed and entertainment center formerly known as the second desk). Odd how the room is at least twice as big as the ones I've lived in for the last two years, and still I have storage issues...could it be possible that I have too muich stuff? Nah. Anyway, the house faces back toward the ARC, and my room has a lovely view of the ARC fields...today was lacrosse, maybe tomorrow there will be hottie soccer boys, and then maybe, just maybe, one day shirts and skins football, oh yeah...well at least a girl can dream, and after this little tangent I know exactly what I'll be dreaming about tonight. And with that, I think I'll get started on the dreaming, nothing much of interest to say anyway, it's just a room after all, four walls, a ceiling, you know the type. So I'll leave you with this..."they'll be all up ons"...and trust me they will be, grrr-ooow. ;). Nighty-nite people.

June 23
After a weekend of complete video-fest vegetation, I decided that maybe it was time for me to leave the house for something other than work, so naturally I took myself off to the movies. Ever since I was a shorter, more freckled version of myself the movie theater has always been my special hideaway. There's just something about that room, the heavily draped walls, the expanse and possibility of the empty white screen, and all the dreams and fantasies of a hundred lifetimes floating over head, dancing in that brillant beam like magic. There's just something about it that puts that delicious tingle in the pit of my stomach, that tingle of anticipation, promise, and hope that can be so hard to come by sometimes. Yet, for as much as it starts that tingle in my stomach, when the credits roll and the lights come up, when it's time to go home and the tingle stops, it breaks a little piece of my heart every time. If you asked me if I believed in magic, I'd probably say no, but every time I sit in a theater and the lights go dark and the screen comes to life, it's magic, time stands still. It's amazing how it has the ability to shut off the world, that now matter how many people are there, once the film starts (if it's even remotely good), it's just you, and the world is behind you, locked away behind those heavy double doors. For a place where you sit with your back to the door, staring mesmerized at the images before you, so unaware and vulnerable, it's so oddly comforting and safe. I don't know, maybe it has to do with the idea that for two hours, there are no expectations, no pressure, no worry of doing or saying the wrong things; for two hours it's just you in the darkness and the peace, you and whatever fantasy may be living on the screen for that brief moment, and the promise that no matter what everything works out in the end. The magic of those two hours has the possibility to stay with you, to bring light into the real world, to make things shimmer and shine again, to make you think that no matter what everything works out in the end. And that my friends is the magic Hollywood never knew it made.

July 8 Expanding Your Horizons, or Fun With Culture
Last night, per usual, I was bored, so I spent the night looking up random things and trying to learn a wee bit of the old Gaelic, so to speak. So aside from the odd factoid or two ("Kennedy" in the original Gaelic means "misshapen head" or "helmet head", and the family name on my Irish side is the 91st most common surname in Ireland), the only thing I really retained with any accuracy was how to say "kiss my ass" in the Irish Gaelic. Which I suppose fits with my theory on the five Irish vices. As I see it there are 5 key characteristics, or virtues if you will, associated with your average Irish-affiliated person. These being: 1. Temper, or what I like to call the expressing of impassioned points of view, 2. Long memory (sometimes associated with the holding of grudges in conjunction with #1), 3. A free and unabashed use of colorful and profane language, 4. An occaisonal proclivity toward embellishment and aggrandizing of the truth (for use in storytelling, etc. Please Note: embellishment, not fabrication), and 5. An appreciation for the work of stills and brewers (which has the ability to enhance all of the previous four attributes, either individually or simultaneously). So, in that I possess all of these virtues in various degrees, some since birth, others being more recent additions, I found it somewhat funny, and not the least bit odd, that I can't for the life of me remember the words for simple everyday things, seasons, numbers, family names, etc. But now, if you enflame my #1, you'll be sure to hear me utilize my newly acquired addition to my repertoire of #3, as well as risking permanent residence on my #2, and possibly some combination of #1 and #4 upon retelling and revisitation, especially on the rare occaison that I've been #5. The internet is good times.

July 12, 2am                                             Complete and Utter Rockage
    I've just been pushed and shoved, felt up, repeatedly stepped on, and dodged more flying elbows than I could count, and ALF and Johnnie Cochran were there...this night totally rocked!! So... Moto and I just saw The Ataris live, upclose and totally rockin...Kris Roe is the hottness...We got autographs and picures....Moto is now completely obsessed...I'm too giddy to sleep.
    But yeah, breathing...I'll start from the beginning. Moto signed up to try and win a bunch of random concert tickets and things on this website she's a member of, and she got tickets for herself and a guest to go see The Ataris on "Jimmy Kimmel Live", and knowing how much I love them, she invited me to go. So being the nerds we are we spent the few days prior researching stuff about the show, the area, and other random things...because clearly we don't do spontaneous adventure very well. But no matter, this afternoon, after vague dress code crises, I drove out to Moto's house and we headed into LA. We knew the show was at the El Capitan, so we spent the day across the street at the Hollywood and Highland complex...shopping for "club clothes" (the specified dress code for the show as stated in the email- damn Jimmy Kimmel- more on this later), wandering around, and bowling and watching "I love the 80s" in this super swank bowling alley. Then we changed into the specified "club clothes" and went to get in line for the show.
    When we went to the theater, they sent us around the back to where an outdoor stage was set up an empty lot behind the theater. So we jumped in the line that snaked down the chain link fence surrounding the lot, and began our two-hour wait. During this time I started to get the feeling that 1) most of the other people were barely old enough to vote...or drive, and 2) damn Jimmy Kimmel, I should have just worn my Chucks and jeans. But for now we shall let that go because after maybe an hour of waiting in line, the band came on stage and did sound checks and rehearsed, so from behind the chain link fence we got to hear them run through "boys of summer", "in this diary", and "all you can ever learn is what you already know"...which was pretty damn cool. Just before nine, the line started moving, we went through security, and we piled in by the stage; all in all I'd say there was only about 200 people there.
    So we watched the show on the big screen behind the drum kit...there's really not much to say about it, it wasn't all that interesting. Though, I was secretly kinda bummed that we weren't inside, I mean, Johnnie Cochran was there, and there are so few rhyme-saavy litigators in the world today, it's a shame to miss an opportunity to see one. Anyway, I was starting to get over it, when the crowd-warmer guy came out to get us pumped and ready...but yeah, not so much, let's just say the crowd didn't particularly warm to him. At any rate, the band came out, then Jimmy Kimmel came to introduce them along with his-cohost, ALF (who only appeared after protest and chanting...we wanted ALF, dammit!), and Johnnie too. So I got to see The Ataris on the same stage as Johnnie Cochran and ALF...life is good.
    When the first chord was struck on "boys of summer" the crowd surged. These guys from the back powered toward the front and started a mosh pit. In all the shoving, Moto got pushed to the front, and I got pushed back, finally stopping on the edge of the mosh pit, so in the interest of personal safety I was obliged to shove and fight with the guys who were being tossed around the circle, and when they weren't being thrown about would run headlong into you in the hopes of being violently thrust away. The sudden surge of the crowd had surprised me, but I eventually fought my way out of the mosh pit, and tried to find Moto, who earlier had been expressing a great deal of concern about the idea of being elbowed in the face. Then the first song ended, there was a commercial break, and the crowd stopped and returned to the lulled-waiting state of the previous three hours. The commercial break over, the band played again, and the insanity resumed as suddenly as it had stopped. At this point I had mostly given up on finding Chinako, preferring rather to once again flee the mosh pit, and push and shove and sing "In This Diary" along with all the rest, helping a crowd surfer here and there, and missing my Chucks more than I can possible say. So the tv show ended on the 2nd song, but the band played on...and this time, the classics. By the time they started "Your Boyfriend Sucks" I had made it back towards the front, and spotted Chinako standing front and center up by the barricade, crowd surfers flying over her head. The last song they played was "San Dimas", during which Kris dove into the audience for the second time, and Chinako the Ho, being front and center, grabbed his ass (the lucky bitch, she didn't even know his name!). I tried to get in on the action, but so did everyone else, sadly pulling him out of my reach. After "san dimas" it was over, despite the chants for one more song. Kris came out to apologize, saying there was no more time, throwing guitar picks and drumsticks into the crowd to make up for it. The lights went out, the crew swept into the break things down, and the crowd thinned out.
    We left the way we came, but then Moto remembered the parking validation, so we turned back. This time we went out the other way, and found a bunch of people waiting for the band in the alley between the theater and the stage, so we decided to join them. They were all really friendly, especially considering that not 20 minutes before we'd been nearly pummeling each other. We waited in the autograph line for awhile, eventually Mike the bass player came out and started signing stuff, taking pictures, and talking to everyone. He was cool and very nice, in spite of the fact that he had not one, but three impatient hos waiting for him. Eventually Mike left, and we waited some more. Then Kris came out and did the whole autograph- picture thing...did I mention that he is the hotness?
     So yeah, I had expected to go see a taping of the Jimmy Kimmel Show, and get to hear The Ataris play one song from the new album. But instead we got to see my favorite band in a private, outdoor concert. We got to watch them rehearse and tune. I got to hear "San Dimas" LIVE! Chinako violated Kris. We both kicked and elbowed a lot of complete strangers. We got to take pictures with Mike and Kris. Got their autographs on a dollar bill that will never again see circulation. It was total and complete awesome-ness...and ALF and Johnnie Cochran were there..truly the stuff dreams are made of. Thanks for the memories Moto!

And Dug.... "dontcha remember I told you I loved you baby?"...I heard that today before the show and I knew you were there. Thanks for always singing us to sleep with The Ataris freshman year. Come home from The Philippines, Ray's Pizza isn't the same without you. miss ya. ~H

July 24 Alcohol and Baby Food
So long time no update, but what can I say things haven't been that interesting around here. Work is funny to say the least...last week there were days when I worked for maybe an hour then spent the rest of the time at lunch meetings and playing foosball with the AV pro staff...the AD of Ops and yours truly, unbeatable combination. I had my first AV program last week too, Karaoke on the big screen in the AV ampitheater with pizza, popcorn and cotton candy (this time I steered clear of the whole cotton candy fiasco as much as I could, I'm pretty sure there's still that sugar junk in my watch and up my nose from the last time). It started out slow, slow enough that I had to sing a painful rendition of "old macdonald had a farm" to get things moving (can I just say that that is the looongest song ever, and did you know he had a donkey? since when?!?!). But I suppose it was a mild success, all in all 100 or so people came out, and with the exception of myself, none of the singers put the "tone-deaf" in Karaoke. Between foosball and karaoke, I managed to work almost six extra hours, so I took a long weekend and spent some time in H-town. Four days of sleeping, vegging, swimming, and seeing movies with the folks...good times, though sadly I forgot to sleep on the pool table in protest, next time. So news from the homefront...my family is still completely random, I went home to find an obscenely large, and completely gorgeous big screen TV in the living...my younger brother is still intent on moving to Chico with some friends under the pretense of going to school, my older brother works like crazy and I haven't seen him in awhile, and in about a month and a half my youngest brother had a growth spurt and went from being shorter than the moms to almost as tall as my dad. Seeing as I haven't grown since eight grade, it looks as though I'm destined to be on the short end of the family pictures from here on out. In other news...I woke up this morning dreaming that I was at a saw mill, but it was only a couple of landscapers with gas-powered alarm clocks hacking away at the shubbery under my windows...My gall bladder is the devil...for some odd reason baby food tastes alcoholic, no wonder babies are all smiley-happy... but on an even brighter note, Gerber baby food stage 3 helps develop chewing and mashing skills, which has been on my To Do List for years. Ah, it's been quite a productive summer.

July 28 Boredom and You: A How-To Guide on Making Nice With Your Summertime Companion

1. Develop an obsession or addiction. Nothing passes the hours like deep, concentrated devotion on one thing.
2. When watching television, pay careful attention to the advertisements. Buy those things. (Extra points if you can turn one or more of your purchases into something from the previous category.)
3. Spend hours on the internet with the express purpose of being the first person in the world to be diagnosed with "Mouse Elbow."
4. When enjoying the classic summer pastime of reading, read aloud in an exaggerated accent of the region or country from which the author hails and/or where the story is set. (Even better if done in public.)
5. Each week create a new organizational system for your DVDs, CDs, or books. Remember, unless you are illiterate alphabetizing is taking the easy way out.
6. When deciding to go on an excursion, no matter how trivial, extensively research your destination as well as all possible routes of arrival and departure. It makes getting gas just that more interesting.
7. Go to swank shopping meccas in old jeans and a t-shirt in an attempt to elicit hissy fits, conniptions, or any such reaction from the shi-shi sales people. Bed head, uncoordinated footwear, and lack of money are useful aids in this endeavor.
8. Take things apart to see how they work, call it "Preventative Maintenance." Remembering how to reassembly them is not especially necessary.
9. Make your trips to Target and the grocery store more exciting. Instead of making a list, write clue riddles for the items you need on index cards, mix them up, give yourself a time limit, and viola, your very own "Supermarket Sweep."
10. Revive the things you did when you were bored as a kid, like singing "the song that never ends", playing CopyCat, or SlugBug. Other people will think it's cool, especially strangers.

Aug. 1, 1 am                                                 Pride, Prejudice, and Introspection
      Having just finished reading one of my favorite books for the ??th time, I'm once again struck by the place and impact that literature and popular culture have in our lives. I can't help but wonder if this book and my other favorites are so endeared to me because they've always spoken to the person I am or rather because they helped to build that person and still remind me of who I've yet to be. Seeing as that whole nature vs. nurture/science thing is Cookie's department, I'll just say...yeah...um, both? But yeah, I'm sitting here thinking (a dangerous pastime, I know) that for the most part all my favorite books and movies have very similar central characters; strong, independent, hopelessly flawed, obstinate women who always manage to overcome, figure it all out, and find that all important happily ever after. Whether it was "Anne of Green Gables" in elementary school, or watching "McLintock!" or other John Wayne movies with my dad and seeing Maureen O'Hara going toe to toe with The Duke (I remember being really young and thinking, that's what love is...I suppose there's a part of me that still does), or the first time I turned on AMC and watched "His Girl Friday" or a Katherine Hepburn movie, there was always a part of me that related to it all, and a part of me that wished I were more like them. Growing up I was fairly certain that when I reached that much spoken of adulthood I'd be some mix of all my favorite heroines, whether by the impact and influence of popular culture or sheer destiny, but so far not so good. I suppose it had less to do with the things they did or said, than with the fact that they always knew so matter-of-factly just who they were. They'd make mistakes, muddle things up, but they always accepted who they were, flaws and all, and they were the stronger for it. Even my favorite Disney movie growing up had the same kind of impact. The heroine was in control of her own life, she wasn't passed out in a glass case waiting to be saved, and she knew who she was, she didn't have to trade in her fins for feet, she didn't need a glass slipper, she didn't have to change in order to be happy, and at nine years old I knew that's the way it should be. Looking back, I suppose that's what I've always wanted, that assurance, that knowledge that whoever I am is enough, flaws and all. Who knows if I'll ever get there? Maybe I should swear off movies and box up my books, maybe they've done nothing more than help me lose sight of who I am, and fill my head with ideas of things that aren't mean to be and people it's not in me to be. Or maybe I'll just keep dreaming, and keep fighting. Maybe everything does work out in the end. Maybe someday I'll know for sure.

P.S.- On a somewhat unrelated note, all this introspection on life and popular culture reminds me of a quote from the profoundly insightful, not to mention excellent, film "High Fidelity" -
                         "What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns,
                           or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over.
                          Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about
                          heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was
                          miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?"

Random, but see how we brought it back to the whole nature vs. nurture thing. Slick, very slick.

Aug. 7-8
So I was checking out movie trailers on my favorite website, eating the last of the applesauce straight from the jar, and trying to decide if I wanted to blow $8 on "Gigli" for curiousity's sake...and I decided not so much, and worked on bringing back the movie page instead. Hours of fun for the whole family.

Aug. 12
                          Finally had my film developed.....Check me out in the city that never sleeps

          Possibly, eventually coming in the future... the cringe-fest that is "Gigli" and the latest stop on the
         Tammy-Moto Random Adventure Tour- "Jason Mraz, the Beer Festival, Twenty dollars, and My Rack"

                                                          Hope the summer is treating you well.

Aug. 18
Long time, no actual musings, so allow me to update you on the happenings of late. As for work, it's there every morning at 11am, when I make the trek across AV to my little corner desk with my computer that makes the most hideous rattling noises. In one day last week, I broke the xerox machine three times in the space of 20 minutes, I then proceeded to momentarily put the laser printer out of commission, nearly jam the three hole punch, and came back to find that I had somehow acquired 2 virii on this lovely machine on which I now write. As my friend Ray, and long suffering technical advisor, says, I have "the worst geek luck ever." I suppose MIT is out for grad school. Lack of technical prowess aside, my CP manuals are done, CP shirts are being made, Welcome Week planning is nearly done, as is the CP training schedule...now for the fine detail work before it all starts up again in two weeks time. Three years of Res Life, I may need reminding as to why...but I thinking it will be good. But yes, other topics. I did go see "Gigli" after all, I couldn't help myself, let's just say it's something everyone should see. On Friday, Moto, Suje and I drove out to Vegas to see Cookie for her birthday and surprise/"hijack" her after her MCATs on Saturday. It was so fun. As I am bound by the credo of "what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas" for the sake my reputation as well as others, I can only leave you with the words of a friend, "Was I just under the table?" and "I'm not always this funny, sometimes I'm sleeping", so that you may draw your own conclusions. As for this weekend, another AV program, which kinda spoils my plans to go home. Maybe I can take off Thursday and spend a psuedo-weekend at home, the last of the summer, it'll be October before I can get back again. So many changes at home, my little doozer starts high school next week and freshman football along with it, odd to think it's been seven years since my own first days at HHS. My best friend Allison leaves tomorrow for a semester in Budapest, when she comes back round Christmas it'll be nearly a year since I've seen her...have good times Ali. Well, wish me luck in going home and spending a last long summer evening lounging in the swing by the pool, my toes skimming the water as I watch the stars swaying back and forth overhead. I need these moments of peace before the world starts violently spinning once more...it's like crack :). Take care my lovelies, enjoy your days, miss you all, see you soon.

Aug. 26
Sometimes I just sit looking at the pictures on my wall, and remember. High school...Allison, Bill, and "the box"...clearly meant to be from middle school and still going strong. Ray, with his innate sense about people, understanding me better than most people ever will, and it always seemed that he saw more in me than I saw in myself. The boys; Andrew eating everything in sight...it was two pizzas for the rest of us, and one pizza for Andrew, David rattling around in his old truck, soon-to-be-Valedictorian Steve scrambling around to see who could brief him on the reading and who did the homework, and Mark being...well, Mark. It was SNL between AP Euro lessons, which no doubt explains why I'm kinda fuzzy on European history, but can recite most of the original Matt Foley skit. The chair post-AP test, Herold, The M-word, Skinner and the narcoleptic dogs. Football games from the band section, listening to Ali and Billy play, and watching Andrew sing the national anthem in his bulldog red and gold before taking the field. Hard to believe it's been so long ago. Freshman Year. Kieu...my roomie, my long lost twin, who relentlessly kicked ass at SNES and always told me I was Asian on the inside. Dug...movies on the dug rug, the sexy water dance, singing us to sleep and always wishing us naked dug dreams. My girls. Always being there, always listening, always making me laugh so hard that I cry (because my cheeks are round and push on the tear ducts) and Moto pulling my cheeks down to stop the tears. Friday Night dinners, late night walks, sitting on the yelling bridge for hours on end in the middle of the night, Brigadoon of the beach, Suje making fun of the rest of us for talking Hemet, Cookie describing me as the one with the confused look, Moto's random adventures. The rescues, the interventions, the drama, the kidnapping, the hi-jacking, the escapage. Always knowing that I'm loved even when I've lost my mind. My Family. My brothers...always wrestling and fighting, learning to hold my own early, all-night FIFA, Risk, and Axis and Allies tournaments with Mario in the summer, the time I helped my older brother cut his hair, the time they were playing football in the house and Ryan broke the kitchen tile with his head, having to push start Zach's Bug on cold mornings before school, the dying goose sounds of Austin learning to play the saxophone, dancing with Zach at his wedding and watching him with his little girls. My Parents...I can remember being young and spending summer nights having ice and water fights in the front yard. My mom working full time, going to school full time, and raising three kids, then later having a fourth and deciding to up the challenge and get her master's. Some of my earliest memories are of those times, the long drives to CSU San Bernadino so early that you could still see the moon low in the sky, pale through the soft morning light. The day care at the college where I had a Miss Piggy toothbrush, my mom telling me to look after my little brother. My earliest memories of my dad tend to involve softball fields, tournaments, games at the base. Playing under the bleachers with the other kids collecting bottle caps, watching my dad play, smiling at how everyone admired, respected, and razzed him. Always wanting to climb to the top of the bleachers, telling my mom not to worry, and usually falling off the back, the first time I cracked my head open, the second time my chin...I suppose even back then I was so stubborn that it took me awhile to learn my lesson. Family trips driving across country in the motorhome or the mini-van, watching the summer scenery change from the browns and reds of the west to the yellows and greens of the midwestern prairies and the valleys and woods of the East. Being six years old and afraid to swim in the Atlantic Ocean because of the sea weed snakes. My grandpa's boat on Lake George, the joy on my mom's face as we picked raspberries and blackberries at her Grandmother's house in Maine, the contentment in my dad's eyes as we explored his favorite uncle's dairy farm in Missouri. Beach camping at Camp Pendelton, boogie boarding, my dad swimming with his old cowboy hat with the dimes glued on, each year there were fewer and fewer dimes. My mom going crazy decorating for holidays, and always lining us up on the staircase for Christmas morning pictures. My nieces, how strange it is to think of my parents being nana and poppy. My parents always working side jobs, so we could have the things they never did. I suppose the most important thing I remember when I look at my family pictures, is that my brothers and I always knew that we were loved, that even when they pushed us to do better, we still knew they were proud of us. Thinking back on the last twenty-one years, I've had a really good life, and it's been shaped and touched by everyone who's walked into it, no matter how long they've stayed. I've learned from my regrets, I'm stronger for the heartbreak, and I'm better for the love I've known. And somewhere down the line, when I've had some kids of my own, I hope they'll be able to say the same.
And now that it's gotten to be the wee small hours and I can't remember why I started writing in the first place, and I've gotten all girly and started to get a bit weepy, it's time for my curly head to hit the pillow. Goodnight all.

Sept. 3
I've had an odd craving lately for a '50s musical wrought with innuendo, so naturally I fired up my 20th anniversary edition of "Grease", because it doesn't get more wrought than that. Watching it now, and understanding all the sexual undertones, and for that matter overtones, it's funny to think we used to watch it at sleepovers in grade school, completely oblivious to all the double entendre..well most of them at least. Speaking of sexual innuendo, I always wanted to be Rizzo, which thinking about it now makes me wonder if maybe there's more merit to that whole alter ego/Tammy thing than I've realized. I always just assumed that the girls were grasping for adjectives when they were trying to describe my other side and "slutty" just slipped in there, but now with this whole "Grease" revalation I'm beginning to think maybe it's not coincidence. I think it may be safe to say that maybe deep down I'm a slut....yes dammit, I'm a ho at heart! Now if memory serves from the twelve-step program I went through after that little substance abuse problem I had in preschool, accepting the truth is the first step, so clearly I'm now well on my way to reaching my full potential. Maybe once I'm further along in the process I should devote a little time to examining my affinity for another childhood favorite, "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas". Though I'm thinking that had more to do with Burt Reynolds, I did have a whole "Smokey and the Bandit" thing there for awhile. Oh yeah, there's nothing sexier than a man smuggling Coors across state lines, and there's just something about the way he says "Texarkana" that'll put a hitch in your giddy-up. Ah yes, it's good to be a ho.

Sept. 7 Serpents, Symbolism, and Sleep
This afternoon, I had the strangest dream. The first thing I remember about it was my hand nearly engulfed in the jaws of a snake. Strangely, I wasn't scared or upset, I was trying to coerce the snake into letting my hand go with a sort of pained, but patient annoyance, like when you try to gently ease a baby's fist from its vice grip in your hair. At some point in the dream, I came to realize that the snake was my pet, and in attempting to feed him, he had not only tried to eat the poor rodent I no doubt offered him, but my hand as well. The apparent reason for the snake's intense hunger seems to be that it had for some reason been packed away with my stuff at home and hadn't been fed for the entire summer. Now, I'm a person who believes in the power of dreams, they are the windows to understanding our subconscious mind. I suppose you could say they are the keys to finding out the things about ourselves that we won't even allow ourselves to know. For someone like me, who has lived a great deal of their life inside their head, and who's head versus heart struggles are usually epic battles that go on well past the point of decision, I see my dreams as uncontrolled introspection. They are the thoughts my mind produces in that scarce time when the spinning wheels of my mind slow to a hum and the true mechanism begins. It's odd to think, but they are at once not my thoughts and more my thoughts than I will ever know. With this in mind, and getting back to the snake, my dream book lists a serpent as a "symbol of self-renewal and profound wisdom". Thinking back, this is the second dream I've had about a snake this summer. In the first, I was afraid of the snake, I was trying to get away from it, in the second I had almost an affection for it and a deep regret for its neglect. This progression, from an armchair psychology point of view, seems to indicate an acceptance of change, a change that apparently means a renewal. Now here comes the tricky point in this whole self-diagnosis, interpretation deal, deciding whether or not the dream is an portent of things to come or merely an expressed wish. In this case, either is acceptable and time will tell, but considering that in changing my environment and circumstances, renewal and understanding were what I was going for, I'll take it as a good sign. The first dream seems to be indicative of my chracteristic dislike/fear of change, and the second seems to insure that the thing to do is accept the change and the fear, try to forget the past, move on and embrace the renewal as fervently as the snake embraced the whole of my hand. So, yes, take it as a good sign, take this new job, this new place, this new life and rebuild and renew my happiness. And while I'm at it ignore the fact that the dream could just be telling me never to place myself as the caretaker of semi-aquatic, reptilian creatures...as if that would ever happen.
How's that for profound wisdom?