Alaskan Soap is Gritty

No news is good news

2011-09-19T04:40:00.000-07:00

No news is good news, they say.

When you are waiting to hear about a job, no news is depressing, exasperating, and in your growing cynicism, bad news. I have applied to jobs to never hear back at all, I've applied to jobs and waited a month to get a first interview, and I've had interviews and waited three months to get a rejection letter in the mail with an address label in Comic Sans. When you've applied to as many jobs as I have, rejections start to lose their gravity. Everything in life kind of sucks when you are unemployed and poor and then you get used to having things go wrong. You keep reminding yourself that people without any problems don't have interesting memoirs (thought people who are sitting on the couch watching Netflix and eating peanut butter off a spoon don't make for interesting memoirs either). So you wait for a phone call or an e-mail until you give up. You drag yourself out of bed at noon and you pick out new jobs and start writing new cover letters, even though you've been doing it for months and you are out of inspiration. It isn't devastating to give up anymore, it's just part of the process.

But then your phone rings and it's a local number, not a bill collector after your late student loan payments, and you answer it. You thought it might be the bank telling you that you have an overdrawn account, but it's the guy who interviewed you asking if you can come in for a second interview. I gave up on trying to hide my excitement when people are offering me work or interviews or a free drink. My small animal like exuberance has become part of my charm, I think. I say yes and I accept an interview for hardly more than 24 hours from the time of the call and I start planning out how my life will improve.

I bring my small animal exuberance to the interview and nervously rotate slightly back and forth in the chair while I answer questions and hope that I'm answering them correctly. Once I realize that I am exhibiting nervous behaviors like chair rotating, filler words, and possibly eye twitching, I try to get zen. People often comment that I'm a very zen person. I make it through the interview and, again, all there is to do is wait.

---

Not pretending to be you, or that you are me, after I finished the interview, I drove out Thane and found a place to park along the rocky beach and, still in my interview clothes, I delicately (and slowly) stepped down the boat ramp to the beach and sat on a rock, staring at the channel.

C and I went out to dinner at one of the fancy restaurants in town, in part because we hadn't gone out for my birthday, but also as an optimistic celebration of a potential job. The next day I stayed in bed too late as usual, took too long to figure out how to waste a day, and luckily got asked to help out at a friend's shop. In the mid afternoon, I got a phone call from a local number (not a bill collector) and answered it. Small animal exuberance returned as I repeatedly expressed my excitement and accepted a job offer. No news was good news.

Except now all news is good news because I'll be in the business of news. And the best news is that I will get to use my creativity and my connections, and that I'll be in a business in which pointing out grammatical errors is welcomed.

Constructive Criticism

2011-09-12T21:22:00.000-07:00

I've always felt that, as awkward as it can be to point out a mistake or have a mistake pointed out, it is better to have it pointed out than to have it go unnoticed for some indefinite amount of time. I was taught, through life experience and possibly my mother, that it's what friends do, or in my mom's case, she'd lick her thumb and rub the spot right off my face. Recently I pointed out a crumb in a friend's beard and he laughingly joked that it's what beards are for, after all, saving some for later. He wiped the crumb away and I, his friend who cares about him, crumb or not, was the only one to know. I only recently encountered a differing opinion, that if someone has his fly down and finds out for himself, he might believe that he is the only one to have noticed and feel lucky (this is only the example provided to me). I guess this is just another time when I find that I can't really understand certain different perspectives - perhaps this friend is an optimist (if he didn't notice, nobody else probably noticed) where I am a pessimist (who knows how many people noticed before I noticed!) but, dang, I'm glad that my criticism did not meet a more negative reaction. I don't ever want someone to feel bad because I am an eagle eye when it comes to grammatical errors, beard crumbs, and lazy flies.

Love is in the air

2011-09-05T21:12:00.000-07:00

I just went to my fourth of four weddings for this summer. Whew. Luckily for me, three out of four were located in Juneau, while the fourth took place in LA, a city which is really growing on me.

#1 S&M (the initials are for their first names, not any sort of deviance as far as I know) married in the winter, but had their party in the summer at the Yacht Club. That may sound stuffy, but there is little about Juneau that qualifies as stuffy. It was a fun and lighthearted event with great friends, delicious food, drinks and dancing. These two make me happy by how happy they are. Cuuuuute.

#2 E&J have been together for as long as I've known them and I've known them since I moved here, pretty much. They've been a cute little family for a while now, but hearing those sincere and tender vows almost brought a tear to my eye. It was a small wedding and reception, but it brought together a lot of the friends I made during my first six months in Juneau.

#3 M&S (Confused? It's a different couple with similar names) are two artist friends who have been dating for some years, much of it long distance, but they are pretty great together. It was another typical Juneau wedding with all familiar, smiling faces. These kinds of weddings are community events, everyone celebrating that two of us found love.

#4 M&J have a cute story, in which they met at the wedding of a mutual friend and bonded, then eventually fell in love while M was living in China and J was in LA. Three years later, they married in a spectacular event at a gorgeous location with a lot of great people and, this is super exciting to me, it was a pretty traditional Jewish wedding. I liked the Hora so much that another guest and I somehow managed to initiate a second go of it during a Katy Perry song.

I also attended three pre-wedding bashes (bachelor/ette parties), which were all fun for very different reasons. Whether it was a reunion of girlfriends, silly games, or shooting guns on a boat trip - there was a lot of fun to be had!

I think I was occasionally accused of being a "bitter single friend" but I don't think I was ever bitter, despite being single most of the time. I like being single, though I've discovered that I also enjoy being in a relationship as well. I guess the best thing about relationships in general, be they romantic or platonic, is the support system you create, the caring and love that is shared, and the laughs. Those are priceless.

I also think it is notable that I went to the Museum of Jurassic Technology. I was set up to expect something strange and inexplicable and that's what I got. Special thanks to friend, J, for meeting up with me for that little adventure and for letting me crash on his couch again. It was nice to be only a 7-10 minute drive from the rental car drop off.

Also notable is that I learned a lot about driving in LA, trial by fire, which luckily did not involve gunshot wounds. I suppose the one positive thing, should I have been shot when I found myself lost in that bad neighborhood, was that it was relatively near a hospital that sees a lot of gunshot wounds.

And I guess further notable things, including reminding ourselves how much fun E, J & I have hanging out, is that we are pretty sure we saw Sam Rockwell while having breakfast on Sunday. I did not act like a starstruck jerk. Thank goodness.

I should update more often so that I am not writing pages worth every month or so.

A Pirate's Life for Me

2011-08-07T16:32:00.000-07:00

Bachelorette parties. You've seen them. They usually involve drinking from penis shaped straws, teetering on heels while wearing mini skirts and tiny dresses, fake veils, and visiting questionable bars.

For my friend Mr. M's bachelor party, we all pitched in some money to go on a day and a half long boat trip with booze, food, and fun on the menu. We departed Harris Harbor between 10am and noon on Saturday and returned around 2pm Sunday afternoon. It was just excessive enough to be a great send off, but not excessive enough to involve illegal substances or death. Perfect.

I could try to weave a narrative here and describe the trip at length, but it probably won't translate as well to prose as to actually experiencing something like this. We ate, drank, and made merry. We shot guns, navigated boats, and played games. There was a viking funeral pyre and a sky lantern. More clay pigeons lost their lives to drowning than to gunshot wounds but we were happy as could be.

I told the Capt. Marc that, if I get married, I'm having a bachelor party and I want him to be the captain. Everything about this trip was so right. Everything about this place is so right. Everything about these crazy, beautiful people is so right.

If you're feeling a little envious from this peek into my life, you are justified.

Because life isn't all about work:

2011-07-08T22:30:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I get so focused on certain things that I forget to share the super awesome things that happen in my life. I forget to share about the things I love, the adventures I have, the things I create, and just how great my friends are.

Here are some things I should have shared:

1. I went to Los Angeles and had a super great time, couch surfing for the first time (instead of just hosting) and I really want to go to the Museum of Jurassic Technology when I'm back in September for my friend Miss M's wedding.

2. I went to Fairbanks TWICE in May. Once for my political junkie business and another time I also went to Denali (National Park) as a chaperone for a field trip. I was one of two adults accompanying 6 14 year olds. They were really good. It was beautiful and wonderful. Fairbanks could grow on me, but I'm not ready for that kind of winter.

3. I went to Haines Brew Fest for the second year in a row and it was at least as awesome as the first time, if not boasting some things that were a little more awesome. I'm even okay with it being sort of rainy. I didn't get to spend an extra quiet day in Haines, which is probably for the best, since last year I started thinking about moving there.

4. I've already been to two weddings this summer and it is lovely because they are really in love and great for each other. I am THIS CLOSE to becoming a wedding crier because they are just so damn tender.

5. I went to Oregon for a weekend because one of my younger sisters graduated high school. She's super awesome. I am not surprised, I guess, but I am proud.

6. I visited Gustavus, Alaska and Glacier Bay National Park earlier this week. I did some hiking and wore a hole in my xtra-tufs after a couple years of wear. I'd be upset if I weren't also a little proud of having worn those boots often and hard enough to get a hole in them. Extra points for hiking a muddy, wet trail with traces of bear scat when it happened.

7. I give really good relationship advice and most of the time I can make people laugh in the process. I kind of hope I am good at relationships, but it's always harder to do everything right.

8. Juneau Roller Girls had their (our?) first bout this last weekend and it was amaaaaazing. I'm so proud of those women who got out there on their skates and played hard and left with bruises but a lot of pride and glowing with excitement. I made a sign for my derby wife. She's amazing.

9. I am getting a typewriter because a friend and I want to make zines. Sometimes I start projects and don't finish them, but in general I'm a creative person and have to get it out somehow. Maybe working with other creative people will provide the motivation I need.

10. Juneau has had some fun live music and I continue to do a lot of awesome dancing. Sometimes, like when I'm supposed to be dancing all sexy or something at a club, I can be a little awkward, but in reality, I'm a pretty good dancer. I most enjoy dancing to more country/bluegrass/mountain/blues/swingy music, where you have a dance partner and you twirl and twist and you interact in a way that doesn't potentially involve a boner rubbing against your butt. Awkward. My friend Mr. J is one of my favorite dance partners. A lot of my male friends aren't that into dancing and it's a real shame. One night I was asked to dance by a guy in Juneau for an internship, he didn't know what he was doing at all, so I was trying to teach him by leading from the ladies' position. Apparently I made him look like he knew what he was doing, which means that I totally kick ass.

11. I've hosted a lot of couch surfers, including during Folk Fest and other fun times. I really love participating in couch surfing and feel like I've had a ton of really great experiences. The Gustavus trip actually involved my roommate and our couch surfer taking the ferry over and camping.

12. Community is awesome. I love how much people care about other people around here.

13. A friend of mine is a boat captain, currently with a tourist company, and he hooked me up with a comp whale watching tour today. I didn't see bubble net feeding, but I did see a lot of whale action out in the channel/Lynn Canal and it was awesome.

14. Despite the fact that I don't currently have my awesome job, I feel like I've had really good luck lately. I have great friends and things are mostly going really well. It is almost surreal how easy it is to just be happy and having fun.

15. I'm kind of neurotic about numbers and had to include a number after 14, it doesn't greatly affect my life, but sometimes it has a surprising affect on certain decisions because I feel like I need to adjust my behavior or actions to make sure that numbers are square or round or multiples of three or whatever weird nonsense. I think people still like me despite these quirks. I was talking to my friend today about little quirks and idiosyncrasies and how, in relationships, if they are tolerable it doesn't matter if they are noticeable. That's probably a really good thing.

This is a ridiculous trend:

2011-07-01T15:09:00.001-07:00

I think there are two reasons for not blogging, if one is a blogger. Either there is too much going on or too little. I can assure you that, for me, the answer is never "too little."

I'm going to rant for just a moment about how republicans essentially ruin my life:

Stop cutting funding for important things like EDUCATION. Stop trying to legislate what people do with their own bodies and in their own homes (except murder and violence and stuff, that's still fair game). Stop pretending like cutting taxes is the answer to our budgetary woes and give the friggin' government some of your money. What good is it doing you sitting in that stupid bank account. Are you really going to miss a few extra thousand? Switch to cheaper toilet paper, you assholes. You know what? If you didn't cut out so much, maybe I wouldn't be potentially collecting unemployment insurance in the coming month.

End rant.

Due to funding cuts, my current, awesome position is no more. I have some irons in the fire, though. Cross those fingers.

It's not the end of the world because I have an awesome support system.

I think that, in about two weeks, I'll have nothing but good news to share. But you know what? I'll still think republicans are jerks.

Life Decisions

2011-03-14T21:59:00.000-07:00

1st: Watch Iron Jawed Angels.

I'm not one to get emotional over a film, but I definitely shed a tear, felt my gut clench, and noticed my heart speeding up as I followed the ups and downs of this film. The fight for women's suffrage was one in which many women made great sacrifices and it makes me feel even more strongly about my involvement in politics and women's issues. We can't stop fighting or we'll start to see our rights taken from us.

After watching that, seeing the sacrifices and difficult decisions these women made so selflessly, it sounds pretty whiny of me to talk about the decisions I deem tough in my everyday life. Right now, I have to make certain decisions about my commitments and my priorities and it is hard. I love my new job and I love the promise it brings. It has made me happy like almost nothing else has in the past couple years. It is part of my promise to myself that I will develop my career and be independent and self sufficient, so how can I still wonder what the right decision might be when it comes to making sacrifices. Something has to be given up. What they say about not being able to have your cake and eat it, too (eat your cake and have it, too) is coming into play in my life.

What do I give up and who is hurt by it? I've eased away from disclosing much that is really personal in this blog, some feigned attempt at privacy while still allowing myself a platform from which to wave my not-quite-dirty-but-worn-laundry. I'm afraid that the decision I must make right now involves hurting someone's feelings or making compromises in my career. Is there a middle ground?

Tune in next time, kids, for word on the decisions I make and the damages dealt.

An Open Letter to (a) Driver(s)

2011-03-13T00:59:00.001-08:00

Re: Your interactions with Pedestrians

Dear Driver(s),

Today, I, a pedestrian (most pedestrian), can only apologize for not giving a curtsy when I paused to allow you to continue driving while I waited graciously on the sidewalk. I have acknowledged your blatant superiority, as evidenced by your car ownership, likely with heated seats toasting your buttocks pleasantly as you listen to the radio station of your choosing or, perhaps, a compact disc from your favorite musician, and stopped to watch in awe as you, high wage earner with important things to do and important places to be, drove through the harsh winter conditions which undoubtedly burden you with unnecessary stress over lengthened stopping distance and lessened control. I hope you didn't assume, and I am sure you did not, that I was pausing and looking both ways to assess the safety of the well marked crossing I had approached, I was merely glancing in other directions to see if any other pedestrians were sharing this moment with me, gazing upon your steel encased glory from the outside, glad that the brisk winter air keeps us alert that we might never miss an opportunity to appreciate your very presence in the world. In fact, it was almost selfish of me to stop, knowing that I might take some sliver of credit for the world altering innovation you would surely be developing in the fifteen to thirty seconds I shaved from your undoubtedly oppressively long commute. Thankfully, the chill wind that whistles through the streets and beats through the fibers of my winter coat humbles me as it reminds me that nature, like you, like your massive motor vehicle, is powerful. As you certainly deduced, using your refined reasoning skills and your ability to make inferences using logic, time equaling money and I apparently lacking the money to own a motor vehicle of my own, my time is worth far less than your time and we both made the only logical decision in prioritizing you and your time over that of a lowly pedestrian. And, so I don't take up more of your time with this overly verbose message, meant to, in all sincerity, thank you, I will close with a most clear and concise message: Thank you, driver(s), for being (a) monumental and unmatched in all the world douchebag(s).

A more current update

2011-03-07T23:17:00.000-08:00

The last time I wrote, Juneau had provided a little something: a job, temporary in nature but with potential. Whether it was timing or lack of funding or some other issue, the potential was not realized and I was again in a panic over whether I could pull things together. I had applied for some other jobs, but I had grown pretty despondent, with every job boasting ridiculous competition. I applied for jobs for which I was a shoe in, but it wasn't until I applied at an actual shoe store (my favorite) that I had any luck at all. Politics was a miss, an organization I had worked for before was a no go, things were looking woefully bad. But then I got hired to be a sales gal at the shoe store and things were looking up. At the same time I had an interview and later a second interview at an organization that provides educational resources. I knew who my competition was in this case and I was pretty convinced that the competition was too steep. But somehow I got the job (maybe that dabbling in graphic design was worth something after all). So I am now gainfully employed doing things I enjoy. I have joined the ranks of some of the other bloggers I read and am now working in the marketing/pr/communications field!

I think I had felt like I was going to be stuck in admin forever, babysitting print jobs, sending mailings, taking notes at meetings, running errands and filing. Thank goodness for this, it is a major boost of confidence and it is perfect for me. I will get to WRITE and I will get to create and sure I may also have to keep an eye on some print jobs and do some other things that are less than thrilling but I also get to do things, real things, and have a little ownership. The woman I work with directly is fantastic, a sassy New Yorker originally and she is very straight forward in a good way. The rest of the organization is full of really nice people. Also, the organization is essentially run by women; the executive director, CFO, program officers, almost everyone in an upper level position is a woman. Not that I am a weirdo man-hater, but it is refreshing. It's also notable that the organization is successful - it is expanding and growing and improving! I've seen other non-profit organizations struggle, while this one excels. It is also notable that people stay in the organization, they are happy there and there is room for growth and for people to take on projects and do great things.

If you can't tell, I'm really excited.

I'm also excited that I get a discount on shoes since I have already spent more money than I will admit publicly on shoes from this shop.

I'm also excited to be going on vacation shortly. I'll be seeing some old friends from some different times in my life, all in Los Angeles.

Thanks, Juneau

2011-02-07T17:54:00.000-08:00

I haven't written in a while and I also haven't moved or made any major changes except getting a job. Yep, whenever I make an ultimatum with Juneau, it gives a little.

Between work and doing a project for the Wearable Arts show, I haven't had much time to whine about crap on my blog, I guess. Also, I don't think I've had much exciting to say to the greater public.

Maybe I'll think of something good soon.

The three and a half year itch

2011-01-04T18:03:00.000-08:00

In high school physical education, we had a swimming segment, in which one of the tests was how long each student could tread water. I have no idea how long I was able to tread water in that pool, but I know that I've been treading water, metaphorically, in Juneau for about three and a half years. And I'm exhausted.

For almost the first whole year I worked a job I didn't much care for that in no way fit into my greater life goals. For the two and a half years since, I have been working various temporary positions, I've tended bar, I've worked campaigns, I've done administrative work and I've done retail. I've boozed and schmoozed and I know EVERYONE. It's frightening how many people I know and how well I know them.

For all that, for all the "dues paid" and all the entry level work I've done. For all the friends I've made and all the volunteering I've done. NOTHING. I've triply paid those dues, but I'm still lucky to get interviews for entry level positions. I've been turned down for interviews for positions that ask only for a high school diploma and 6 months experience. Really?

I have great friends here and it is beautiful, but my foot has been in the door for years and all Juneau does is slam the door on it. Repeatedly.

It's time. If I'm going to be temping and eating rice and beans for every meal, why not do it in a new place where I don't feel like it's a personal insult?

So, where should I go? I'm taking suggestions.

Irresponsible? Not this girl...

2010-12-14T15:23:00.000-08:00

I just returned from a trip to Anchorage and it was absolutely necessary and perfectly responsible, especially since I bought my ticket when I was employed AND with my PFD money.

In any case, Miss S, Miss J and I booked tickets a while ago for this trip with the main goal of seeing Miss E, who has been living oh-so-far-away in Vermont. It also happened that a gaggle of roller girls (Miss E is a roller girl as well) from Juneau were also attending, which put us at a group of between 8 and 10 people depending on the night. I can't even begin to describe how fun it all was or how silly or rambunctious we got. I don't think Anchorage was expecting us.

I don't want to get too crazy into it, but we had good food, good drinks, good fun and good company all around.

Despite the overwhelming stress of being un(der)employed and straight up poor, I managed to have a bit of fun. And when I started to be a downer, I tried to be aware and pull myself out of it. I would really like to get to a point again at which I am happy more often than sad or stressed. I have an interview on Thursday, so maybe that will help.

As part of this whole job search fiasco, I have asked a few potential employers, who did not even offer me an interview, what criteria I did not meet. I hope I'll hear back, because if there is something I am doing wrong, I'd like to fix it. ~~One (no longer) potential employer I asked at least three weeks ago and I determined today that I should send a follow up e-mail. So I did that.~~

Edit 12/15: I got an e-mail from the HR person for the former potential employer and she has been supremely helpful and has gone above and beyond what I expected. She walked me through everything specifically and when I asked if she would be willing to conduct a rehearsal interview, she agreed. It is notable that I do know this woman beyond this interaction. Still, even if it had just been the initial Q&A, it was really helpful and I highly recommend asking such questions.

I want you to want me (hire me)...

2010-12-05T19:07:00.000-08:00

I am still unemployed. It's been a month now.

I don't really know what else to say. It's definitely making me get a little more creative with how I spend my free time. Here are my hobbies, in no particular order:

Looking for jobs
Applying for jobs
Occasionally interviewing for jobs
Getting regularly rejected by potential employers
Volunteering
Meetings and organizing
Baking
Cooking
Crafting
Altering clothing
Drinking random cocktails at home that I've concocted
Netflix instant watch
The internet in general
Coming up with ideas of novels and then not writing them
Random haiku attacks
Drawing some
Sleeping

Now the real problem is how I will fit in all of this (minus the job related stuff) once I finally find myself employed again. I just hope it is soon.

Post Election Blues

2010-11-21T16:16:00.000-08:00

I know, I know. I'm a liberal in a wacky conservative state. What did I expect?

We lost, we all lost. The only consolation, and it is a small one, is that the Teabagger candidate Joe Miller didn't win. Everyone in Alaska seems to be saying "Yeah, we're satisfied with mediocrity."

I drank a bottle of champagne watching the results and yelled obscenities at the television screen. Don't worry. That was the worst of it.

Then I spent a day or two not talking to pretty much anyone. I did manage to accidentally threaten a stranger in Tennessee with death because my friend Miss C must have changed her phone number. Seems people who have never met me and have no idea who I am don't quite grasp my sense of humor. The funny thing was, after I apologized profusely for my joking death threat, he asked if he could text me. Any good relationship starts with death threats, that's what I always say.

Then I started hanging out with people again, just a little. I am unemployed now, so I can't be super social unless it is free and doesn't involve spending money, which makes going out to the bars a little dull. I have been baking a lot of scones and most recently some carrot cupcakes.

I went to Las Vegas and met up with Mr. CP and for a night also Miss B and Mr. K, who were on their great American road trip a la Kerouac but with fewer drugs, I suppose. It was a lovely trip which included a trip to Hoover Dam, setting foot in Arizona (Nevada and Arizona are two states to add to my list), a Cirque du Soleil performance - Mystere, and a performance of the Blue Man Group. We also had a super fancy dinner at L'Atelier de Joel Robuchon, who is this amazing, award winning French Chef with 3 star restaurants through out the world, though this was one of the slightly less fancy restaurants at only 1 Michelin star, which is still pretty spectacular.

I've been applying to jobs, but rather selectively. I suppose I ought to cast a wide net and then I can pick and choose, but I don't tend to like to go to the trouble of writing cover letters for jobs I don't particularly want. I am currently guest bar tending at the Rendezvous, where I worked in Summer of '08. It's now Sunday afternoon and I've had about 5 customers. It's also already dark. Winter in Juneau has its ups and downs.

I have a new roommate starting at the beginning of November, he's the male version of me, perhaps. A politics geek with a sarcastic and sometimes inappropriate sense of humor. Sometimes we sit and watch weird indie films or documentary films.

So, there's life. It's not too bad, except for concerns about paying bills. It may not sound particularly optimistic, but my thought is that I've never been homeless or hungry yet, so I doubt it will hit now.

Feelings

2010-10-13T23:28:00.000-07:00

I've always been pretty rational, rarely one to get emotional, and when I have strong feelings, these feelings are elicited by an action or event or person or thing or words that very reasonably would elicit said emotions.

One night that I stayed at my childhood friend Audrey's house, she explained to me that she could feel the unhappiness and the pain of others and it moved her to cry. It wasn't a reaction to a particular trigger, it was as if pain and suffering had taken the form of some invisible vapor that had filled the room and that she had inhaled, causing hysterics and bawling. It went beyond empathy and seemed like a terrifying affliction; I called home and insisted that her mother take me home. I think about this now and while I still lack understanding of what exactly brought on this behavior in her, I think that she must be a pretty wonderful person today.

Today I found out about the tragic death of a man in my community. I had met him once or twice but didn't know him by any stretch of the word. I knew of him, knew that he was an active member of the community with similar beliefs, who did work I respect and appreciate. When I saw his name in a headline, when I read about his sudden and too-soon death, I felt a sense of loss. It stuck with me throughout the day. In the late afternoon I saw some new haiku posted by a local woman; as I've said, I am rational, but this haiku moved me:

What I Want To Believe About Grief

Some days our hearts are
rocks, too big to skip. But tides
will tumble them right.

TSUNAMEE 10-13-10

You can commission your own haiku from TSUNAMEE at her etsy shop.

What I love about this haiku is that it shows recognition of the weight of loss and the process of healing over time with beauty and deliberate words, with a real sense of hope.

The feeling of sadness was paired with this sense of anxiety - it might be campaign stress. All day I felt tense and uneasy, like I was meant to be a million places and doing a million things, all the while I felt like I was always in the wrong place, fumbling life. It is the sort of vague feeling that brings about sneaking frowns and makes one's body vibrate with the involuntary contraction of every muscle. All day I felt like my body was bracing itself for some impending trauma. I think it is proven that a person will survive a great fall with less damage if one relaxes, but my body seems intent on doing it all wrong.

I would probably do well to just go to bed, but I'm wide awake and my mind is a mess of tangled thoughts about death and emotions and politics. I think that my brain is trying to match yesterday's weather with gale winds and torrential downpours.

Twenty-Eight Days Later

2010-10-06T12:59:00.000-07:00

We've seen it in the movies, a lot can happen in twenty-eight days - disease can spread rampantly, societies can collapse, and zombies can wreak havoc upon the world we once knew. In twenty-eight days, in this reality, I will be fighting off fatigue on E-day, too tired to consciously hope for success, though I will have spent months prior doing just that. And fighting for it, too.

Today marks four weeks to the general mid-term election. It's as refreshing as it is frightening, because there is finally that proverbial light at the end of the tunnel, but maybe it's just the spotlight of a train coming head on at you. Either way, it's almost over.

Aside from this, I haven't much to offer in the way of stories because, well, this is no Chelsea Handler memoir. I expect that you should all simply be relieved that I managed to survive my twenty-fifth birthweek. For those of you concerned that I might have died, I understand, but that was just the zombie walk.

Quarter-Centennial

2010-09-07T12:23:00.000-07:00

I'm still here. And I'm almost twenty-five.

You'd think I'd have something really interesting to tell, but campaign work kind of takes up most of my time. The things that are most exciting to ME are my bed and drip coffee (cheaper than espresso), while the things that might be exciting to you would be me actually having thoughts or activities that do not pertain to my campaign.

Tough luck, you may have to wait until November. There's a good chance that the next time you hear from me it'll be mid-November and I'll have drunkenly eloped in an Elvis themed chapel in Vegas.

What?!

Maybe I'll want to make up for lost time.

Obituary

2010-08-10T16:49:00.000-07:00

When I participated in Leadership Juneau, one of the exercises was to write my own obituary. I doubt I still have it, but I remember it reasonably well.

I think I went to law school or got a masters degree in something interesting, maybe environmental policy, I worked in the non-profit field and I started a charity, I was a world traveler, married just once, when I was older and wiser, maybe I had kids. The part that stands out is that I listed my cause of death as follows:

Melissa and her husband died in a small aircraft crash near Lake Baikal after attending a conference pertaining to the devastation of the surrounding environs. She was 91 years old.

Seriously, I decided that I'd be an old, old lady and that I'd die happy and accomplished in a friggin' plane crash.

We had to share our obituaries with another person in the group and I got paired up with a guy in his 50's probably. He was (still is) a put together guy, works in real estate, and he seems pretty rational. He told me:

"You don't live to be that old and then die in a plane crash."

Well, if former Senator Ted Stevens can live to be 86 and then die in a plane crash, John's theory is proven wrong. But, of course, now that Uncle Ted has done it, I need to pick a new way to go:

Melissa and her husband, both old as sin, died in a fiery explosion as their spacecraft collided with a meteor, saving the planet earth from certain doom. They were on their 65th anniversary "cruise."

Also, I eulogized today that it was "an epic death for a kind of epic guy." and I hope that when I go, I'll get an equally as awesome eulogy stamped on my tombstone.

Not My Fault

2010-08-06T18:48:00.000-07:00

I've always been one to take responsibility for my actions. Almost always, in any case. Sometimes, though, I'm not to blame when things go wrong.

Today I did my hair and dressed cute so I could go get dumped, or so I assumed, because maybe you can't be "broken up with" by your not-boyfriend, but you can ALWAYS get dumped.

So, I have been "seeing" this guy, another smart one, a real go-getter. Problem with them is that Juneau is too small a town to contain that much ambition. He's been accepted to a PhD program and is headed out of here in September. Pretty much as soon as he found out, he started pulling away so I decided that I would open up the lines of communication.

I have this theory, you see, that open communication is a good thing. Let's test it out:

First I rambled about completely irrelevant things like making an enemy in an acquaintance's ex-boyfriend by getting in between them and helping her get into a cab and away from him and the bars (don't care, he's not worth my time anyway). Then I stated my case and because I am a sane and rational person, I apologized for Juneau's active sabotage of our not-relationship. You see, he did pull away, in part because he's leaving and wasn't sure what to do, in part because Juneau tried to force a label. Every time a girlfriend would ask "Is that your boyfriend?" and every time a friend would ask him "Where's your girlfriend" the impression building was that I was running around telling anyone who would listen that he was my BOYFRIEND and probably also that I wanted to have, like, ten-thousand of his babies. Only I wasn't.

I can say that we are clear about what we are not. I can say that we are clear about when what we are ends. I can't say I'm 100% clear about what the hell is going on between now and September, but I do know that we can figure that out pretty easily.

In any case. I've got another "failed relationship" under my belt but it's not my fault. It's not my fault that I like smart, ambitious men who go into PhD programs at prestigious universities. It's not my fault that there are no such prestigious universities in Juneau, Alaska. It's not my fault that gossipy Juneau tries to fuck with my casual dating mojo by forcing labels upon us.

It would be my fault if I didn't value this relationship for what it was. It would be my fault if I didn't gain some wisdom from this experience. It would also be my fault if I got disheartened and lowered my standards, going after less intelligent, less ambitious men.

Luckily, I'm doing this right.

Hipster Cred

2010-07-20T16:19:00.000-07:00

I may be self loathing, but I'm honest: I'm kind of a hipster.

I have thick framed glasses and bangs, I have a quirky sense of style and I listen to indie music. I avoid pop-lit like it might kill me. I really want a mac (I'm too poor to actually have one). I own one of those checked scarves that are common in the Middle East and I wear it around my neck. I have two pairs of converse sneakers and wear skinny jeans. I read webcomics and graphic novels. I have tattoos and stretched lobe piercings and my rook pierced. I went to a liberal arts college. I owned a pair of Ray-Ban Wayfarer knock-offs until they broke. I make comics. I want to learn to play upright bass and be in a bluegrass inspired band. I drink PBR sometimes.

A couple friends of mine recently discovered Stuff White People Like and were trying to describe it. I looked at the guy to my right, a friend of mine, and declared that I was the poster child for Stuff White People Like and that's part of why I find it so hilarious. I also accused my friend of being, likewise, a poster child for the type of white person being described. He tried to deny it, citing his hatred of Ray-Ban Wayfarers, but it was a weak defense.

As we were all attempting to leave my friend's apartment after drinking PBR and talking about all this hipster crap, he handed me his ear-buds and requested that I listen to this new song by this band that he was sure I would know.

Holy shit, I had to defend my hipster cred. If I didn't know who this band was, I was going to be embarrassed. I don't know why, it's not a big deal, but I felt this pressure - I needed to know who it was and I needed to not say the wrong thing. "Uh, it sounds like the New Pornographers." Bingo. I was correct. It didn't just sound like the New Pornographers, it was, in fact, the New Pornographers. SAVED.

Lucky me, the New Pornographers have been part of my music collection for a couple years at least, I also have music from the solo projects of A.C. Newman and Neko Case. But ask me about someone brand new - I don't have a clue. I'll admit that when it comes to music I have hipster taste but I don't have the hipster habit of keeping up with what's new and exciting. How I get music is less and less a secret: I receive "donations" of music from guys I date or guys I have a crush on (sometimes in part for their music collections). My music collection is a conglomeration of the musical tastes of this guy in college, this guy I had a brief fling with one winter, my first love, and hopefully I'll have some new music soon.

Confused

2010-07-19T07:57:00.000-07:00

I've been right here this whole time. I haven't gone anywhere. I haven't moved to Haines or DC or San Francisco. I haven't moved apartments, I haven't made any giant life changes. I'm still here and still entrenched in my quarter-life crisis.

My life hasn't been completely dull, but what may be some of the juicier details about my life, I can't bring myself to actually share on this oh-so-open forum. You guys, it's a secret! It only adds to my confusion about what to do and where to go, though. And eventually I'll figure it out.

After taking leave for so long, I won't leave you with only this vague and uninteresting post, I'll tell you about what is interesting about my life: 8 wheels.

That's right, roller skating! I may be the clumsiest thing on 8 wheels, but damn it, I am skating. I feel like I start from scratch most every day that I skate, but by the end of each practice I am improved. I even skated with a hangover this Sunday, making almost 25 feel like old age since I can't drink as I did in college and face no consequences. I guess, really, it's not that interesting since I am terrible at skating and really haven't done anything interesting, but in case you were wondering, I'm totally cool for being involved in Roller Derby, even if I wind up being the badass-est towel girl on 8 wheels.

Three Options

2010-06-07T17:14:00.000-07:00

I'm giving myself THREE options. I must make up my mind by the end of the month (which means I had better get my life organized).

1) Stay in Juneau (or move to Haines) - this is the cost effective, safe option. I will stay here if I get a job in Juneau or one or two of the jobs I applied for in Haines. So far I haven't heard back about the really cool job in Haines, so I have a feeling that's not going to pan out, so the other one probably won't be worth doing either. I did apply for a job here in Juneau that would be really good for me, so if I get that, it is probably enough to keep me here. But if I don't get a job here at all, then I'm kind of tired of trying to piece things together with multiple part-time jobs. I need something more.

2) Move to San Francisco (more likely the East Bay) - I have family in the Bay Area, my dad and step-mom, aunts, uncles and grandparents, cousins and who knows who else. They may not all be in the position to help me, but I know I could crash at one of my Aunt's houses and I am sure that I could receive some financial help should the need arise. The job market for San Francisco was #14 on a list, but it wasn't that long a list, so I don't think that makes it the easiest place to find a job. I have heard it is easier to find a job once you live someplace, something that might well be true. A friend of mine declared that I absolutely should not leave Alaska because he came back because he couldn't find a job in the Bay Area. We have different backgrounds, but that wasn't the most welcoming news.

3) Move to Washington, DC - DC is listed as having the number one job market, it is where many non-profit organizations and non-governmental organizations and, hell, even government has their headquarters located. It's a thriving city with lots of young people and, apparently, a pretty good chance that I'll find a job that suits me. I know some people in the DC area, though I think it might be putting a bit more pressure or stress on these people than on the family in the Bay Area. Also, the weather is shit. But I would have a good chance at getting a job, according to news sources and I have some good friends and some decent connections over there.

So, if you read this, what is your opinion?

Juneau? California? Washington, DC?

Vacation Tally

2010-06-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

January 1st through 22nd - Oregon and Mexico

February 26th through March 1st - San Francisco

May 1st through 17th - Oregon

May 28th through 31st - Haines, Alaska

It's been quite the first half of the year.

I was in Haines, Alaska this past weekend for the annual Brew Fest, known also with less brevity as the Alaska Craft Beer and Home Brew Festival. It was glorious.

There is not much point in going into great detail about what went on, you can probably guess: Friday night we ferried over and had fun and drinks and danced at the local bars. Saturday we got up and started drinking again, there was a lot of hula hooping going on, I had breakfast with some friends with eagle eye vision, then we went to the beer tasting.

Now, many people, some of my friends included, barely made it out of the tasting with the ability to walk or form coherent sentences. I managed to make it out just fine. I got to taste a lot of beers, mostly from Alaska breweries, and many of them were really delicious. I also learned that a "breakfast beer" is an "oatmeal stout" which goes against my initial instinct that a breakfast beer ought to be light since it is so early in the morning. Different logic...

After that, instead of going to the bars, I sat around with Miss S and Mr. M and whoever else happened to stop by to hang out, including Miss JB aka Farmer Girl and many others. We drank a lot of whiskey. Obscene amounts of whiskey. We played MASH and Miss S and I ended up staying up suuuuper late talking total nonsense. I then wandered back to tent city (where we were camp-squatting) and passed out from exhaustion and possibly also from whiskey consumption.

Sunday most people left, but Miss B and I stuck around and played around Haines. It's beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. We went to Chilkoot Lake which was too numbingly cold to even consider jumping in, then we went back to the beach by the docks and waded in up to our necks, which lasted all of five minutes. We played fetch with the dogs, did more hula hooping (I think I actually had mild bruising around my waist) and then we went to Miss S' place for a delightful homemade dinner of fresh halibut seviche and gourmet rice with homemade pesto made from locally gathered herbs and there was also this tea drink made with locally gathered and steeped herbs, homemade blueberry juice and strawberry lemonade.

Then there was the homemade ice cream. Heaven in mismatched jars.

Monday was our last day in Haines and consisted of breaking down our tent and cleaning things up, running around on the beaches, trying to avoid mosquito bites, playing with the dogs, reading in the shade and ferrying back to Juneau while Miss B and others played music.

Now I'm back in Juneau.

Miss B and I are talking about moving to Haines. It sounds crazy because I was just talking about moving to a big city, but there is something so charming about that tiny little town. I actually sent in my resume today for a pretty decent little job.

In any case, it's back to trying to find a job and trying to recover from being irresponsible and spending a weekend drinking and playing in Haines.

IDENTITY CRISIS!!!

2010-05-26T21:17:00.001-07:00

When I was in third grade I had to give my first presentation in front of the class. It was a book report? Or maybe it was that "how-to" exercise that is meant to teach children something. I still haven't decided if it is to teach children that stupid people need extra detailed instructions or just to teach children about implicit instructions or something. Anyway, I had to stand up in front of my class and present something.

I was TERRIFIED. The thought of standing in front of my class and giving a presentation was, to that point, the most horrifying feat I was ever faced with accomplishing. Mrs. Mulrooney (for whom I have generally fond memories) told me that if I didn't do my presentation then, I would receive a 0. A ZERO. A big, fat, red F. I cried. I did not deliver my presentation.

Somehow I passed third grade. Somehow I was able to coax myself into giving presentations in the future with no similar failures (except for that one time in that masters level seminar in Germany). I even felt so evolved that I thought I was extroverted.

Apparently, I am not. Apparently the ability to force myself to speak in front of people does not mean that I am not fidgeting or shaking uncontrollably. I guess I just don't notice it.

I have been receiving subtle hints over the last several months. I was once described as "reserved and thoughtful." Who? Me? I guess, maybe. I have been told by a friend that he and another friend thought I shouldn't be so down on myself. What? Conan O'Brien is FAMOUS for his self deprecating humor. Not that I would want my own show, I'd probably die. And recently I had the great fortune of talking with someone who had interviewed me about what I could improve upon and what my weaknesses may have been. Apparently, I was visibly nervous and this cast doubt upon my ability to handle this job well.

You guys, I have just come out of the closet, er, gone back into the closet, er, I guess I'm an introvert.

I suppose there have been many signs over the years: I spent my entire life reading and drawing and, most likely, the most extroverted things I may have done growing up include having less than 10 lines in two separate plays and being on the mock trial team. In college, my most extroverted thing was doing sorority recruitment, which, I'm pretty sure, was never my best experience on either end. I didn't even get invited back to two of the three houses when I went through.

And I know what you are thinking, "You're a bartender, you have to be extroverted!" Not true. I work in the least busy bar ever and I literally shake after I have to kick someone out. Or maybe you are thinking, "But you have, like, a thousand million friends on facebook and you are always out doing things with friends!" And that's true. But I guess my friends think I'm quiet (relatively) and reserved and thoughtful. And everyone needs a friend like that. I probably make an excellent wing woman.

The world wants me to be an extrovert. The world wants me to be fierce and aggressive and oozing of confidence. The world wants me to be composed during an interview and the world wants me to want to be president.

You guys, I am probably supposed to be a librarian.

Mood Swing

2010-05-25T15:24:00.000-07:00

Melodramatic? Me? Nah.

Maybe sometimes.

Sometimes I get a little down. Don't we all? Especially after my relaxing vacation, it was especially disappointing to discover that I hadn't gotten the job I had interviewed for. I was most disappointed because I was shocked. Not shocked as in "how could they not hire me?!?" but shocked as in "Wait, I didn't even have a second interview!?!" It happens like that, sometimes.

It's not the end of the world and I know that. It's an opportunity to expand my horizons some. It was completely by chance that I ended up in Juneau, Alaska and perhaps fate would have it that I embark on a new adventure now.

I've been applying to jobs, slowly but surely. Options aren't quite limitless, but there are a lot of choices out there. I am looking mainly in the Bay Area, DC and Portland. My reasoning is that these are places where I know people who wouldn't mind me sleeping on their couch while I figure a few things out, where I have family or close friends to provide support of some kind. They are bigger cities with bigger opportunities. If only the competition were only what it is here.

Though I may have seemed despairing, worry not, I am far from giving up hope. And who knows, maybe I'll end up in your city!

A Wise Man Once Said

2010-05-18T17:02:00.000-07:00

"You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you get what you need." - Mick Jagger, Rolling Stones

"Love is all you need." - John Lennon, The Beatles

So, wise men, musicians, they say a lot of things. There is truth in each, but you probably can't take it just as it is.

And to add another cliche to the mix, it may be time to put my money where my mouth is.

I know what you're asking yourself: "What money?"

Me too.

I did not get the job and despite scouring the state jobs site and the Empire's top jobs I have found not a single position in Juneau that I really want.

So, what's a girl to do?

Do I take some job I don't want for the sake of having an income?

Do I call it quits, give up, say that Juneau has defeated me?

Do I crawl into a corner and hope that my fairy godmother comes to grant me a wish?

Do I look elsewhere for jobs?

What the hell, guys? I don't know. I'm at a loss.

All the stress relief from my vacation is negated because I am still in the middle of my quarter life crisis with no plan, no ideas and certainly no answer.

I have a lot going for me here, but if I can't survive here (and I can't live on love) then I'm left with some tough choices.

I put it to you, Mick Jagger. And you, ghost of John Lennon. What the hell do you wise men have to say to this?

Decisions, Decisions.

2010-05-17T17:12:00.000-07:00

I will be doing a second interview for this position and then I will hopefully find out if I get it or not within a reasonable amount of time. It seems like it would be a great opportunity, but as well as I think interview #1 went, I can't be certain that I will get it.

If I don't get it, I might have to admit to myself that there's not really much of a future for me in Juneau. I've been here for 3 years at the end of this month and I have not held a real adult job for longer than 10 months. I don't want to work 2-3 jobs at a time to make ends meet, I don't want to find a new job every 3-6 months. I want to find something that I can stay with, that will pay the bills and leave me content. I want to start a career, not just work.

Already, only in May, I have been gone about 6 weeks out of the year. Approximately three and a half weeks were spent in Oregon, two weeks were spent in Mexico and approximately half a week was spent in San Francisco.

Sometimes I dream of traveling abroad again, teaching English if I must.

Sometimes I dream of moving to a big city with more opportunities (and more competition).

Sometimes I dream of moving to Oregon where I'll be closer to my family.

Sometimes I dream of moving to someplace completely new and completely random, for the sake of experiencing something new and starting over again. Everything will be novel, including me.

Mostly, though, I feel like I'll just be here until there is something that draws me somewhere else. That I'll continue to straddle the poverty line, drink lots of beer and whiskey, wondering what life might be like if I had done one thing differently.

Speaking of doing things differently, sometimes I have these fleeting thoughts, little "what ifs" that are completely outrageous. Today I wondered what would happen if I poured my beer on the couple in front of me on the plane. Think about it - we're stuck on a tiny plane with nowhere to go, we can't just land, we can't be separated. What would come of it?

I didn't do it, but what if I had?

Because I Can't Afford Therapy

2010-05-14T20:28:00.000-07:00

My big complaint about family gatherings was that there would be fighting. Ridiculous, stupid fights. Fights over politics and religion and just caused by drunken stupidity.

New complaint. Far worse, I think.

My parents and my grandma and her boyfriend returned to the house in a great mood and began calling for a cab to go out. I was invited to go out with them and I considered it because going out and drinking with family can have its advantages - like free booze.

Then I dug a little deeper.

"Where are you guys going?"

I didn't get a straight answer.

"OK, seriously, where are you going in the cab?"

I hope you are sitting (I assume you are) and please refrain from drinking any liquids while you drink this.

"The titty bar."

New plans for the evening: curl up in fetal position and rock back and forth. I can only imagine my poor step-dad, with whom I rarely sympathize, will be doing the same thing.

Hell, this is getting friggin' Oedipal here. He'll probably gouge out his own eyes.

Inspirational

2010-05-13T13:50:00.000-07:00

My mom has this metal and glass wall hanging in our main bathroom. It has a silhouette of a couple damsel flies amongst the reeds, then two panels below, one a cut out of the word hope, the other an inspirational phrase:

Learn from yesterday.

Live for today.

Hope for tomorrow.

An insect was probably not the best imagery.

1. Pretty sure insects don't have the mental capacity to learn or hope.

2. The life span of an insect is a little short for talk of tomorrows.

3. Maybe this works if your only goal in life is to breed.

The Poop Poop Song

2010-05-12T20:55:00.000-07:00

I made up a song for my 4 month old nephew. It goes like this:

Poop poop poop

Poop poop poo-poop

*raspberry* *raspberry*

Poop poop poop

Poop poop poo-poop

*giant raspberry*

Do you believe me yet that I've been spending a little too much time with a baby?

In other news, we had a family get together with extended family included that did not include drunken antics, fist fights or people passing out naked. How is that even worth writing about?

Also, and I suppose I should have expected this, there is a second round of interviews. I did make it through round 1 of the interviews, so now I need to come up with some way to be super awesome for round 2.

I expect everyone to keep their fingers crossed. PERMANENTLY. Or at least until I say when.

10 Things vs. 2 Things

2010-05-11T01:07:00.000-07:00

I just had a suggestion on facebook (via a college acquaintance) for the page "10 Things a Woman Can Do to Keep Her Man from Cheating."

I don't think there are 10 things I need to do to keep my man from cheating. I think there is one thing my man needs to do: NOT CHEAT.

And, should my man cheat, there is one thing I need to do: DUMP HIS ASS.

It's a much simpler system.

---

It's not really a black and white "if he cheats I dump his ass" situation for me, as I have known some people I really have a lot of respect for who have slipped up and I think I could forgive and forget if the circumstances were deserving. I do, however, stand by my statement that there are not 10 things I should do to keep my man from cheating. And if there were things I ought to do to keep my (again, hypothetical) man from cheating, it would not be limited to some stupid list of 10 arbitrary things featured in Cosmo along with their 100 ways to please your man.

The company you keep

2010-05-07T17:33:00.000-07:00

I've been spending an overwhelming amount of time with my 4 month old nephew. I think he is absolutely adorable and love everything about him, even when he pees on or pukes on me.

I'm concerned that spending all my time with someone who doesn't speak or even sit up on his own might affect me negatively. Sure, I'll be all relaxed and cuddly, but I'll probably gurgle instead of speak, try to talk about bottles of formula instead of beer, I'll probably make funny faces at people rather than discuss current events.

What's that? Shiny!

Good thing this is only for a couple weeks.

Karma

2010-05-06T22:04:00.000-07:00

There is something so satisfying about seeing one of those bitchy girls from high school working retail, 50 or so pounds heavier, and with a bad haircut.

The mysterious disappearance of Melissa Leeanne

2010-04-27T12:48:00.000-07:00

If you read my blog, keep up on my comics - you might have noticed that I have had a pretty scarce presence on the internet lately. Little things, a couple tweets a day, maybe sharing some links. No blogs, no comics, no new projects.

It's not you, internet. It's me. I'm in a funk and I can't give you what you need.

It's pretty reflective of my entire life, my best friend right now might be a bottle of whiskey. You know that will end badly.

There's no need to go into details about what's going wrong or what's simply not going right, but I should have things figured out soon.

I have an interview Wednesday (cross your fingers, please) and I might leave town for a bit to clear my head.

When I return to my regular ol' everyday life, hopefully I'll have plenty to share and whiskey will be a mere acquaintance.

Hey, whatcha drawin'?

2010-04-07T04:24:00.000-07:00

The problem with the daily comics is... well. It's hard to pin the exact problem or cause of the problem, but there is one.

Today this guy came into the bar with a friend of his. I have met him a few times before. The last time I saw him, or maybe the time before, he was in the bar on a Tuesday night again and I was drawing comics. Comics that included the exact people and surroundings of that night.

So tonight he asks what I was drawing, if I did comics. I said yes. He declared that it was so cool that I did comics and seemed really interested. Luckily he lacked follow through and despite being interested he didn't ask for the web address because, well, the comic from exactly a week before? It kind of made fun of him.

It's kind of like how I made that comic of that one girl that was always mean to me but now she's nice to me and I just have to hope that she never develops a real interest in my life because then she would find out that I call her an ogre.

I could solve this problem in a few ways:

I could be nicer.
I could be private with my mean thoughts.
I could delete a post if I think someone might read about himself or herself.

Most likely I'll do none of these things, constantly risking having people resent me for my comics.

Speaking of these comics - I finished Monday's but have not yet finished Tuesday's comics. I'm a day behind and crossing my fingers that I catch up without hating myself. Oops. Maybe if I hadn't had to have been attentive at work tonight I would have gotten more done. More on that in comic form soon.

The Many Lives of Melissa Leeanne

2010-04-01T02:41:00.000-07:00

Oh man, I feel like I've led a couple lives sometimes. Today was a day that somehow showed off that dichotomy!

My two major passions are the arts and politics - today I spent a good amount of time on both. They aren't mutually exclusive, but it feels like they are totally different sometimes. I went to work and, of course, drew my daily comic. But I also volunteered at a fundraiser and attended a function with lots of political figures present, including my man, Senator B. Now, sometimes I don't always like everything that he does, but I recognize that he represents more than just me and I also happen to like him a lot as a person, face to face.

Today also had me looking at my old life vs. my new life; I finally parted with my Oregon driver's license in favor of an Alaska driver's license. I took a picture of my old license because they confiscate it, but it's crazy to think that I've really severed my ties to Oregon enough that I don't have any legal ties there any longer. I don't have a license there, I don't have a car registered there, I don't vote there, I don't go to school there, I don't pay taxes there. It's just a fond memory, now. A fond memory that is also a state where my family lives.

I also got to bust out the ORIGINAL last name. That's right. I have an ALIAS. Just kidding, at some point in my childhood my sister and I got switched over to our stepdad and mom's last name instead of the last name on our birth certificates. When I fill out legal paperwork that asks for former names, I always put that down. When I found people on facebook from elementary school, they all thought I had gotten married because of the name change. Nope, just weird, complicated shit that goes down when your parents divorce and want to go bein' all complicated.

Procrastinating, bad decision making, overwhelmed Melissa also came out to play. I may have looked like I had my shit together but I was pretty stressed out with all the stuff I have going on. When this happens I have such a hard time even picking a place to start! Tomorrow I don't have anything extra going on, so hopefully I'll be able to take things one at a time and get them done.

Oh, and because I got my Alaska driver's license I was able to e-sign for my PFD which means I made it, I have officially applied for my SECOND Permanent Fund Dividend, which I will receive during my... 4th October in Alaska, after my third Juneau-versary in May. May is also the month in which I get to celebrate having graduated college three years ago - and look what I have to show for it. Uh. Not much, I guess.

An Uphill Battle - Both Ways!

2010-03-28T23:47:00.000-07:00

I'm mixing my colloquialisms here, but trying to be creative and productive is an uphill battle. Both ways. In the snow. With no shoes.

I'm lucky. Spoiled, even. So many things have come so easily to me in life. I never had to try that hard in school, never had to work that hard at anything. I think it gave me this false sense that all things should come easily, without much effort. I think it is especially hard for me to grasp the fact that I may have to work hard at a natural talent.

I didn't update my comics site in months. Half a year, about. It's because, for a half a year, I didn't feel like the art I was producing was good enough. OK, so my 24 Hour Comic was pretty good. And maybe I liked my paintings that were in the show. But I was in a rut, things weren't coming as smoothly as I had expected (that's what she said).

I was talking with my friend Mr. DL and I discovered that he spends hours every day drawing. Practicing. Working his ass off at what he loves. Mr. PR spends hours upon hours working on a single comic! Mr. MW can whip out a great sketch in moments, but even he puts a lot of effort into his really great works of art. Here I was, expecting to spend a minimal amount of time and effort to produce something great. I'm such a lazy artist!

I've decided that I need to develop better habits; I need to practice daily. Today, the peak of my productivity involved drawing a picture of the elusive Mer-mer via a very tangent filled conversation with Miss ER and drawing a comic of my day. My very boring day. It turned into sort of a meta comic, which I illustrated in the final panel. I think I could end up in a Synecdoche, NY sort of situation at worst. Anyway, I've decided to draw daily, a daily comic. One page minimum. I will draw from life. It will help me keep track of what I'm doing with my days and it will get me practice drawing, so I can improve, hopefully.

But I am only human and I am prone to distraction and lack of self restraint. Also, whims. Friday was Miss L's birthday, which involved a fancy dinner and a (mostly) surprise party, which didn't suit me in the end. I ended up leaving to hang out with Misters K and D and co.;we had a mellow night. Saturday was meant to be fully mellow but after watching 500 Days of Summer and being sort of melancholy about the idea of love lost and broken hearts, I needed some whiskey. It's not necessary to comment on what happens when I drink whiskey. I needn't imply that it involves poor decision making skills. Also, dancing.

Today was the fully mellow day that Saturday had promised (fail) but without the productivity I had required of myself. I could argue that I was fairly productive since I made a comic, at least. Low standards. I know.

Juneau's Most Wanted?

2010-03-20T12:42:00.000-07:00

My paranoid grandma who watched America's Most Wanted religiously would be proud:

There's this man in town, known to many as "creepy mustache guy," who is or is merely steps away from being a sex offender, I'm sure. It's not the mustache that tipped me off, either. It's that he's a creepy, lonely, instantly clingy, way too touchy-feely drunk. He's everywhere, too. He came into the bar while I was working one night and the next day while I was volunteering at Wearable Arts he came up to me acting like we were old friends and gave me an uncomfortably prolonged shoulder pat while I undoubtedly looked horrifically disgusted (I can't hide my emotions well). He can be found lurking at the State Office Building on the 8th floor, sitting in on hearings at the legislature (wtf?!?), or drunkenly creeping people out anywhere around town.

My roommate said he came into her workplace drunk one time and was really creeping out her and a co-worker, staring at their t-shirts and asking what they said (too drunk to read, apparently) and the owner of the shop kicked the guy out. One of my friends said that he used to work for one of the seasonal jewelry stores in town, but that they fired him because he creepily insisted on walking one of their 17 year old employees home/followed her home on multiple occasions. Yeah, it's hearsay, but if you have encountered creepy mustache guy, you'd believe it. He was also fired from his job at a supermarket, recently. He is unemployed and apparently living at the Glory Hole, may go by multiple names, and he is definitely a creepy old drunk who makes inappropriately sexual comments and gives off that sex offender vibe.

So, right, I didn't actually come on here to warn you about creepy mustache guy, I guess, but to tell you about how I'd make my paranoid grandma proud. I decided there is a really good chance this guy is a sex offender so I decided to check out the registry. If you didn't already know, you can look up sex offenders by name or location, etc. I didn't find him under either of his supposed names, so I decided to just browse the registry by zip code. I haven't finish ParanoiaFest 2010 yet, but I did discover a familiar name in the registry, someone who happens to follow me on twitter, actually. His twitter handle references a sports team and he happened to be wearing one of their jerseys in his mug shot! How convenient that he would make it so easy to make the connection. I am probably just being paranoid, but I blocked the guy on twitter. He didn't say anything interesting and his picture for a while was pretty degrading to women, so he's not worth following and I certainly don't want him following me. I don't know the circumstances, I guess, but I feel like "better safe than sorry" is the rule to follow.

I need some interweb advice - I don't know if I should "out" this guy as a potential skeeze-bag because I don't know the circumstances. It could be really unfair for me to say "@skeeze-bag is a skeeze-bag" if, for some reason, there were extenuating circumstances surrounding his conviction. On the same note, based on my superficial judgment of him, he seems like he could be pretty shady. Do I have a responsibility to my twitter friends to warn them that a registered sex offender is following them on twitter and that sharing too much information could be a really bad idea or suggest that they, too, block him? I'm leaning toward feeling an obligation to warn my twitter friends. What the heck should I do?

By the way, I'll update later if ParanoiaFest2010 leads to finding creepy mustache guy in the registry.

Working

2010-03-11T03:46:00.000-08:00

I'm working. Things are working out.

I finally got paid a little of the money from one job and I am anticipating getting paid at the end of each month from my new job.

Both of these things are great because apparently receiving unemployment benefits was never going to happen.

I'm pretty excited about the new job, I think it is a great opportunity for me to do a lot of the things necessary to a successful arts organization, helping me to know what to do in the future and hopefully making me a better candidate for a graduate program in Arts Administration.

It's exciting to think about applying for grad school, while being completely unexciting to actually apply. I don't know how I don't have miserable memories of applying to 5 or 6 colleges or universities for undergrad. The applications online are obnoxious and the prospect of writing essays and letters, soliciting recommendation letters, ordering transcripts, shelling out money, contemplating costs, filling out FAFSA, applying for grants and loans and scholarships - it's all quite daunting.

I need to take one full day to just write out a reasonable template for personal statements, essays, letters, etc., another to fill out all the stupid applications, another to request transcripts and recommendation letters, another to fill out FAFSA and search scholarships, then who knows how many days writing essays for scholarships and crap like that. I am pretty sure trying to get this in order could be a full time job. I should probably give up my social life.

The good news, the executive director went to one of the schools I am considering (she's my inspiration, actually - a woman my own age who was motivated and has a great job running an organization) and a friend from college did the program at another school to which I contemplate applying. I've got a phone date with Miss S on Saturday to talk about that particular program. I think she's been very successful with it.

I also talked to the program director at the community art studio and will be doing two classes in May, which seems slightly daunting with the music festival being in May, but I think it might be a necessary reprieve and the dates don't clash at all. Then in June I'll probably avoid teaching at the community studio because I'll be teaching three sections a day of "Creating Comics" at the fine arts camp and will probably not want to teach any more than that.

I'm already thinking about how I have nothing planned after fine arts camp in June. IF I end up going somewhere else for grad school in the fall, that could leave me with an awkward period of time to find temporary employment, or if I stay, it means that I'll again be on the hunt for the next big thing.

Someday I'll have it all figured out. I will.

formspring.me

2010-03-07T04:52:00.001-08:00

Ask me anything http://formspring.me/melissaleeanne8

Commitment Friendly

2010-03-06T22:33:00.000-08:00

In the past I've probably referred to myself as commitment phobic, but that only refers to my fear of being in relationships (which isn't so strong a fear anymore) but I've never been a real commitment phobe, I think I might be commitment philic, just not necessarily concerning relationships.

We all know I was president of one organization, am now president of another organization, regularly work two to three jobs, that I am politically involved, plus I put together that art show, am helping plan Roller Derby, I now teach some art classes, and I am doing costume design for a play with a lot of costumes.

This is a busy, busy weekend and it involves many of my different commitments. Today I woke up earlier than usual to get to the workshop for the play by 10am - we had readings and discussed characters and I sketched out some preliminary drawings for costumes for some of the many characters.

After that I went to teach my first comics workshop, a valuable learning experience and pretty fun. I had a group that was mostly 8-11 year olds and it was interesting to work with all the kids and see the differences in their behavior, comprehension, and abilities. Everyone was really creative and there was a lot of talent, I had a lot of fun and I hope that the kids did, too. I hope, in the future, that I can do more than just a two hour workshop, maybe having 3 or four classes so that I can focuse on drawing and format and building stories in one, work with kids on their stories and art for a second class, and for a third one, try to put finishing touches on the comics and get them ready to share with people.

Directly after the comic workshop I went to work and hosted the Roller Derby meeting about a half hour after I arrived. The group was fantastic, people were really excited, committed, and motivated. A friend of mine shared that when she was young she broke both her arms skating, but she's back for more! Some of the women at the event had skated in the late 80's, I think, and were excited to get into Derby. We made a lot of progress and will be electing a board of at least three women at the next meeting. We should have our first skate practice in about 6 weeks!

Tomorrow I am happy to get to sleep in after such a busy day. I do have commitments later in the day in preparation for International Women's Day. I am not sure how many women will make it, but I hope we can make some signs and then get women to commit to brave the weather for a bit to hold up our signs on the Bridge. It is apparently a world wide event, though I don't know how many will be standing on a bridge in sleet and wind over a channel connected to the North Pacific. That will tale place on Monday. In theory.

Also on Monday I'll be starting a new job. It's only part time, but I think it is a great step forward toward what I think is my best career path. I really loved organizing the Alt Art show, so I think that arts administration ought to be the right path for me. I am also looking into obtaining my master's in arts management, so that I can hopefully have the basis to run an arts organization, one in existence or possibly turning Alt Art AK into a viable organization.

So, that is life, falling together as it ought to.

Weekend Getaway

2010-03-05T18:22:00.000-08:00

As some know, I went returned on Monday from a weekend getaway. Usually I try to take long vacations, visiting everywhere possible in a period of time so I don't end up spending quite as much on plane tickets in the end. Sometimes, though, I apparently make weekend trips. Like that time when my sister got married. Or this last weekend.

I went to the San Francisco Bay Area. I was requested to update, but I have to say, I didn't do much that warrants talking about. We were basically hanging out, doing things we'd normally do, just in a different location.

Oh, you caught me, I said WE. I didn't go to visit family or friends from the area, I actually went for a very specific reason to see a very specific person. After six months, it was great to see Mr. CP again. And congratulations to him for being done with law school and the bar exam.

And because I can't NOT offer something interesting or amusing, I will think of something exciting right now and type it here:

We were only offered pot about 3-5 times walking down Haight street. Less funny, it's kind of depressing that we apparently look like such squares that only 3-5 people thought to offer to sell us drugs.

While in Golden Gate Park we found the outdoor roller disco. Instead of disco, though, it was old school hip hop and included beginners to people who could do jumps and rock some sweet moves, I got somewhat inspired and really want to buy outdoor wheels for my derby skates so I can do something like that at Marine Park.

We went to a Moroccan restaurant in San Francisco and there was a belly dancer. I guess that's normal. I'm not sure if it is normal for the belly dancer to recruit women in the restaurant to dance around with her. I guess I'll have to eat at more Moroccan restaurants in the future as a study.

I think all we really did on the trip was drink coffee and eat at restaurants. Exciting, right? Well, sometimes vacations are just meant to be relaxing, I think.

Chat Roulette

2010-02-21T20:35:00.000-08:00

Did I mention that I don't ALWAYS live under a rock? I don't learn about things the way a lot of people do - I don't watch television and I haven't touched a print newspaper in ages. Mostly I read blogs. Lots of blogs. I would probably die without google reader.

So, I think I read about it on Huff-Post or something. Then I read a Text From Last Night about it. Chat Roulette. I had a morbid curiosity and my roommate is usually game for anything. We sat in front of her Mac Book (I have mac envy) and went to the site. We then sat with bated breath, waiting for our first match up.

Have you heard about Chat Roulette? Basically, you get connected with a random person via video chat and it's really taken off. It's taken off in part because it allows everyone to be both a voyeur and a total exhibitionist. If you are thinking to yourself that this probably just turns into one big wank-fest you would be correct.

Roomie and I poured ourselves some rum drinks and declared that we'd drink every time we saw someone masturbating and we added "every time a guy asks to see boobs" to the drink list. I think we started around 11pm and by 1:15am we were black out drunk, if that is any indication of how often you encounter something inappropriate.

I don't think it should be a regular thing; my liver can't handle it. If you are ever bored and need some entertainment or a reason to drink copious amounts of alcohol - here you go.

Born to Lead

2010-02-20T20:17:00.000-08:00

It's an accident, I swear. I don't do it on purpose. Somehow I just always end up taking the lead.

When I moved to Juneau I became president of a local chapter of an organization within the first 6 months. I became president of another organization after attending only three meetings. My friends and I decided to host an alternative art show and it fell to me to make things happen. A friend of mine decides she wants to organize Roller Derby here in Juneau and somehow I become the person everyone contacts about everything. They young democrats decide to host a regular event and I became the most frequent attendee and actually chose the day and time and location. It's getting to be out of control.

I can swear up and down that I'll never do it again, but I can't seem to help it. Responsibility just gets thrust into my hands, whether I like it or not. I think that the biggest problem is that I don't like to see things fail, so I do what I can to make it a success. I pour hours and hours of time and effort, even money at times, to make things happen. People see that and they see what I'm capable of and the next thing I know, I'm president.

I really hope that I never try to get elected to office because that is a slippery slope.

Hibernation

2010-02-19T13:28:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you don't see a friend for what seems like ages, perhaps it has been months. Where did this friend go? Usually it is a combination of things, but usually the winter seems to be a combination of hard partying nights out at the bars or complete hibernation.

How many phone calls did I answer with "I'm staying in tonight" this week? Quite a few. I think hibernation for bears is meant to last a whole season, but if I stay in for a week, that is pretty good.

It appears that we are embracing the spring like weather and starting bonfire season early. I'm pretty excited for this for a couple reasons:

1. You don't have to dress up for bonfires. Xtra-tufs, jeans and sweatshirts are the uniform.

2. You don't have to pay $5 a drink at a bonfire and you don't have to tip.

3. You get to go home with the lingering memory of summer - and that smoke smell.

4. You get to see a lot of fun people hanging out together who are bonfire friends only, it seems.

5. You have the best view ever while getting drunk, way better than in any bar.

I'm working on getting a ride right now.

Tact

2010-02-16T19:08:00.000-08:00

Today I have a hoarse voice. I don't really know the cause, I just sound horrible. I guess maybe I have the world's mildest cold, consisting of symptoms like a sort of stuffy nose, an occasional cough and a disappearing voice. Vicious.

Anyway, I went to go talk to someone about teaching a comics workshop for kids. I met the two people who were in the office today and one of them, with concern in her voice, told me my face "looks really red!"

I am pretty sure a red face isn't a symptom of the weakest virus ever, it was probably a combination of having recently washed my face with an exfoliant, maybe walking around in the chilly weather, definitely the lack of makeup. Thanks for noticing. Thanks even more for pointing it out. Guess I know why she's in the upstairs office and not on the floor interacting with visitors?

I told her that it was the natural, horrible color of my face without makeup. I realize that this may have made her feel sort of bad about commenting on my rosy complexion, but perhaps she could take that awful feeling of guilt and apply it in a positive way. You know, maybe she won't tell people they look like shit. Then again, she looked to be in her early twenties, old enough to have developed a skill like tact were it to happen ever.

When I got home I scrutinized my face in the mirror and determined that it was a pretty good face, despite having some pink to it. I know at least a handful of people who would agree.

Time & Money & Why Volunteering Is Worthwhile

2010-02-15T23:18:00.000-08:00

A person might wonder why a person would work without getting paid - i.e. volunteering. I can provide some reasons that might convince even a selfish and horrible person to volunteer. And if the end result is positive, perhaps the intentions don't matter? That's another subject for another time, perhaps.

The cause is good. If you care about something deeply, volunteering for this cause is a great way to further said cause. And if you really do care, why wouldn't you do something?
By volunteering, you are often doing something for yourself. You want someone from your political party in office? Volunteer, help them there, then you are more likely to get YOUR legislation passed! Want a cure for a disease common in your family? Volunteer so that organizations funding research can afford to find it. I guess this starts to get a little self serving, but who wants to volunteer for something they don't believe in?

The best reason to volunteer is Altruism: doing something good for the sake of doing something good. But now I'll appeal to the selfish people out there, too.

Sometimes the benefits of volunteering are superior to the benefits of being a lazy ass. I volunteered at the Wearable Arts event this weekend and really didn't put in much work at all. I was an auction table guard and that mostly involved standing by a table and chatting with friendly patrons of the arts. I did this for a total of an hour and a half. If I were working at a retail job for an hour and a half, I'd probably make about $15 before taxes. After the event I spent about a half hour peeling stickers and stacking chairs - I think that event staff for the convention center make somewhere from $10-12, so for that extra half hour, I would make somewhere from $5-6. I was rewarded for volunteering by being allowed to see the show for free. Putting in the equivalent of $20-21 of work I saw a $25 event. It's almost like being handed $4. Plus one of the board members was nice enough to buy me a mimosa during the show. Maybe I'm just lucky to volunteer with such a great organization, but wouldn't this make a selfish person want to do it?
Sometimes it is really fun. I have volunteered at some rather unpleasant things before, like canvassing. Making calls. It's important because volunteers really do make a huge difference. But sometimes volunteering is FUN. Rotaract volunteers at Rotary's day at the lake every year and all you do is play with kids. I volunteered at a cabaret event and got to pour drinks and see the show for free. When you volunteer with an organization with really cool people, like JAHC and some of its affiliates, you have a great time, even if the work isn't traditionally fun.
Some other perks might include taking home some leftover goods. I walked away with beer, wine and food after at least a few events for which I've volunteered.
Think about the future - if you volunteer with an organization or in a field of interest, you might charm your way into a paying position. I know that my reputation volunteering in a few fields definitely led me to some great things.

So, now the altruistic and those who need ulterior motives alike can take part in the joys of volunteering! I would anticipate I've gotten a lot more out of volunteering than I've given and I don't think that's an uncommon thing. Plus, think about how well I must sleep at night!

Defenders of the Universe

2010-02-13T13:41:00.000-08:00

The last few days has felt like a couple weeks. I've been keeping busy and I keep losing track of what day it even is - it's Saturday and I have to work tonight.

Tuesday I went out with Miss L and we were joined later by Miss JR and we consumed drinks galore. And whiskey. Wednesday I went to breakfast with Miss L and I got a call to do another workshop on comics! Hooray! I didn't do much else that day, though. Thursday is when things started to get really busy. I had some great company for coffee/lunch for him/breakfast for me. I then went to the Brewery with Miss A, where I tried the delicious bourbon smoked porter. Mmmmm. Then we went to the Hangar for some sustenance before I went to participate in the dramatic reading of chapter 2 of Going Rogue. After that, things got... interesting.

Defending the Universe: Part I

After losing a game of pool, Miss K and I walked down the hill to the Alaskan to enjoy some open mic magic. OK, a lot of times it really sucks, but sometimes it is magical. When we arrived the music was performed by a guy from Homer who always rocks it, this woman in town who is sort of strange but undeniably talented, and another guy who was putting some energy and talent into some sweet guitar riffs. Miss A wandered in at this point and was super intoxicated, black out drunk, and behaving in a fashion more accepted at the Imperial than at the Alaskan. I shrugged my shoulders and suggested to all the bartenders within a stumble from us not to serve her. She's a happy and lively drunk, a lot of energy, a lot of boobs. Oh well, people just smile and chuckle. Except my new ARCH NEMESIS, whose name I don't know.

This guy got up on stage and took the mic. He held no instrument and he had a mischievous look to him at best. He started doing stand up comedy. BAD stand up comedy. My criticisms are as follows: Know your audience - when you are in a room full of liberal white people, maybe your routine should not be black stereotypes, even if you are black. How would we know whether to laugh or not - one one hand, racial stereotypes are pretty low brow, on the other hand, will we look like a bunch of white assholes if we don't laugh? Laughter as affirmative action. Check. Second part of the routine was bringing up Tiger Woods. My initial complaint is that I was tired of hearing about his drama two months ago. The second complaint is that I expect a segue from topic to topic - black stereotypes to Tiger Woods? I don't get it! Tiger Woods is whiter than I am, playing pro golf, living in a gated community in Florida with his Norwegian wife. During this act, the only person drunk enough to laugh was Miss A - upset that he wasn't the center of attention, he adjusts his "routine" and starts mocking her, while she obliviously laughs and feeds into his routine. When he attempted to lead the audience in chanting "Ho!" I had had enough. Not only is he mocking someone who cannot defend herself, he is being slanderous and sexist. I walked up to the stage and I suggested that he stick to his routine and not mock someone defenseless to his disrespectful jokes. Then he cried out, "Oh, looks like we have an ACTIVIST in the house!" (As if it were a bad thing!) I walked away from the stage, middle finger held high, and I dragged Miss A out of the bar.

I tucked Miss A in when we got back to my place and Miss J, Miss B and I stayed up later, Miss B and I eventually rather drunkenly painting with acrylics on canvas.

Friday I managed to stay relatively busy as well, taking advantage of the good weather and heading to Sandy Beach with Miss B, her friend Mr. B and their friend's dog, Dumpy. Dumpy is the world's dumbest, fattest pug - which, of course, means that I find him to be extremely charming. We had a great time on the beach, went to lunch at the Island Pub and then headed back downtown where I decided to get domestic and make some soup from scratch (with beer based broth!) and do tons of dishes. I tried to have people over to help eat the soup but the company turned out to be only Miss P and Miss J. Miss J and I primped and then hit the town, hoping for an exciting night. We had no such luck.

Defending the Universe: Part II

It was a quiet night downtown and Miss J and I found ourselves having a drink at each bar and looking further for the best place to settle down and spend our time. We eventually decided on the Rendezvous, but encountered my ARCH NEMESIS during our time at the Alaskan. Just as we were finishing our drinks (and after Miss J and I attracted all sorts of attention for being tattooed and pierced "freaks") I was setting my glass on the bar leaning across a stool and past a beam - to better balance myself at this angle, I stuck one of my legs out behind me. Mr. Arch Nemesis walked behind me, nay, into my leg at this time. I turned in surprise and found myself faced with an angry and irrational arch nemesis all up in my grill accusing me of trying to trip him. I had had about 4 margaritas at this time and was not about to take shit from the arch nemesis like that, so I explained rather loudly and with sufficient sass that he had run into my leg and that I had done nothing malicious. Jumping in, to the rescue, Miss J got all up in his grill and faced with two of us, apparently, he decided to quit being a douchebag. At least for now.

Defending the Universe: Part III

Though it took place before the second run in with the ARCH NEMESIS, this story is probably the least exciting. After placing orders at the bar at the Imperial a large guy walked up behind us and barked an order at the bartender: "Jägerbomb. Diet [and] Crown. Cran, uh, vodka!" There was a pause, he was done. As a fellow bartender and with a little tequila in me, I interjected, "And he meant to add a please." Then he added a very exaggerated "please" to his order and patronizingly asked Miss J and I our ages. Miss J, having a great sense of humor, piped in with a superbly bubbly "I'm 19!" While I looked at him rather indignantly and thanked him for thinking I must be so young (he assumed 21 - an insult) and informed him that I had breached my mid-twenties thank-you-very-much. Like age has anything to do with it, as a bartender, I like the courtesy of a please and thank you.

Don't call us super heroes, no need to thank us, we're just good people, defending the universe. You know how it is.

Dating? From which decade is that practice?

2010-02-09T11:20:00.000-08:00

Setting the scene:

A guy and a girl hit it off, they are chatting and smiling and having a good time. The guy realizes he'd like to get in this girl's pants (or poodle skirt) so he invites her to go for a burger and shake at the local diner. They sip on a single shake with two straws and later go park off some scenic road to neck or something.

A guy and a girl hit if off, they are chatting and smiling and having a good time. The guy realizes he'd like to get in this girl's pants so he hopes she buys herself enough booze to get tipsy. Maybe he'll buy her a drink. They'll get shitfaced on cheap beer and whiskey and maybe share an order of Pel'meni (probably Taco Bell for people "down South"). They eat their single order of horrifying drunk food with two plastic spoons and later go to someone's house and drunkenly have sex.

---

The guy and the girl realize that they are really compatible: they both bought that new single from the record store, they both hope the football team makes it to state, they both aspire to have a house with a white picket fence and 2.5 children. They go on more dates, they dance together at the sock hop, they fall in love. Unless he get's killed driving Dead Man's Curve, they will get married and live out the American Dream. How romantic!

The guy and the girl realize that they are really compatible: they both have that really obscure album from that really obscure band on their iPods, they both read that brand new novel from the old great and thought it was terrible, they both aspire to live in an apartment with a garden, fully energy efficient. They see each other out at the bar, getting drunk on cheap beer and just above well level whiskey, they dance together to that local band, they sleep together a bunch more. Unless he's a closeted republican, they remain in relationship limbo, avoiding commitment and paying for their coffees separately. How romantic!

---

The idea of romance and dating seems so quaint to me, but the practices of my peers today aren't really fantastic, either. One of my friends threatens to leave Juneau because she says that there is no one to date. Another of my friends is thankful that she was already engaged when she arrived because dating here would suck. And I am asking myself, what is the definition of dating anymore, any way? It would seem that it isn't the traditional dinner and a movie that we once held as the standard. It's hardly even the quirky dates that are considered so sweet. At the same time, dating cannot be redefined as meeting at a bar and hooking up, can it? That's not romantic, often it's not healthy, and very rarely is it in any way conducive to building relationships.

Many of my "relationships" in the past have revolved around going to the bars, spending the night together, maybe having breakfast in the morning, exchanging text messages, the occasional evening at someone's house doing some activity that isn't drinking at a bar. But these are the same "relationships" that never got labels, that never went very far. These are the relationships that skirted the borders of "mature relationship" but never quite lived up to the standards. I've had one relationship that involved going on dates, talking about feelings, even some romantic gestures. And I think that it was a relationship from another decade because, well, he started dating in another decade. Not the 5o's as I used in my parallel dating universe, but he's a bit older than I am.

Having a crush on someone in my peer group seems like an exercise in futility. What I described happens, there are awkward quasi-dates, attempts to hang out in a location that is neither a bed nor a bar, and eventually it fades away for heading nowhere or someone freaks out that the other person is getting too attached or maybe someone just moves to Portland or Seattle. I'm not looking to get married any time soon, neither are most of my friends, but I can't blame us for being disappointed in dating in this day and age (and city?).

I've straddled sexier things...

2010-02-08T12:00:00.000-08:00

I've straddled sexier things than the poverty line, but mostly just the poverty line.

Oh no, blogging about money again?

I did my taxes once I finally received all my W2 forms, some were harder to come by than others, and it's official - I'M POOR.

My taxable income was somewhere between $15k and $16k, but for the sake of a little math problem we'll do later and because I think it may actually be closer to it, we'll call it $15k.

It sucks to live paycheck to paycheck, especially when paychecks are sometimes far apart. I have to say that I'm pretty happy and that, despite 2009 being a financially astoundingly pathetic year, it was a great year for a lot of other reasons.

Brief recap: I had a great year with friends, with love, and with developing my art and myself. I learned a lot about who I was and what I want and as I'll always say, I hope, each year is better than the last!

That being said, you know, that I live this bohemian lifestyle, I want to compare my taxable income to another number:

There was a NYT headline that read something like 'Goldman Sachs chief receives bonus of ONLY $9 Million' and I thought to myself: "Only in NYC, only on Wall Street, and only New York Times could say ONLY $9 Millon." Here's that math problem I foreshadowed (is it foreshadowing if you say blatantly that you are going to use that number? NO.) and that is the magic number of $9,000,000 divided by my magic number of $15,000 which leaves us with our quotient of 600. Now, let's say I make $15k every year (this is actually above the poverty line!) - I could live for 600 years on that bonus. Let's say I make a much more comfortable $30k a year (almost 3 times the national poverty level) and I could live for 300 years on that bonus. Let's say I make an even more comfortable $60k a year (poverty? Is that something they have in Africa?) and I could still live 150 years on that bonus. Now let's get really crazy here and say I could earn $120k a year and I could still live a very, very comfortable life on that bonus for 75 years. Only $9 Million. What the fuck?

The good thing is I am probably a much happier person than this Goldman Sachs chief guy. Seriously. I don't know him or anything, but I'm a friggin' happy person. I have fun and I am working toward doing what I love, working in the arts. I'm going to be teaching a workshop at the community art gallery and teaching classes at the fine arts camp in town. I will also be doing temporary and part time work for various arts organizations.

I'm done with the stress and the false pretenses of politics and I'm ready to make the world a better place through art and music. I don't know who I was kidding when I decided to not go to art school, when I decided that art ought only to be a hobby, I am an artist and that is who I should be. And if I'm a starving artist, well, maybe I'll actually lose some weight and then I'll be a SEXY starving artist. Still happy.

Super Sleuthing!

2010-02-07T18:08:00.000-08:00

Sooooooo, if you've read this even somewhat regularly you've likely noticed my propensity for getting a little too intoxicated on some occasions. There have been tales of the good things that come of it and the bad things that come of it and maybe also the things that I don't remember at all. Oh yes, it's time to solve a blackout drunk mystery!

I might venture a guess that it was a few months ago, or somewhere between three and six months ago that I had a ridiculous night out on the town which included a number of things I don't remember like apparently going against everything that is right in this world and making out with my friend who drinks himself straight occasionally. I mean, he's pretty gay, he refers to my type as breeders. But that's not the mystery because he told me the night after that we made out and tried to do it again.

The mystery was a phone number that showed in my call log. Every super sleuth checks her call logs and sent text messages after a blurry night. That's why the site Texts from Last Night exists. It's part of piecing together the great jigsaw puzzle that is the life of a lush. I found this number and a full name in my phone and for the life of me I could not place a face with that name. I couldn't place a conversation with that name. I sure as hell couldn't figure out how I was able to exchange phone numbers with someone and have no recollection of it afterward.

So, like any tech savvy and internet addicted young woman would do, I facebooked that name. Nothing. First thought was probably "Oh shit, he's not on facebook, he doesn't exist!" but since there was a phone number and a full name, obviously I had met and hit it off with one of the few off the social networking grid people who aren't geriatric or living in a cave. But it's Juneau, maybe he lives in a cabin with no running water. In any case, I went for the next best thing and googled. Nothing that would give me a clue who this mystery person was, no pictures, at least.

I was at a loss. Eventually I deleted the phone number because I sure as hell will not be calling someone who could be Quasimodo, I mean, I have no idea what kind of judgment I may have had in my drunken state!

The other day I contemplated the mystery number and checked to see if I still had it. Not sure why, it was just on a whim.

Then I was volunteering for this event with a couple friends and they were announcing board members and important people involved in the organization and the name of mystery dude popped up. Not only that, mystery dude is apparently the guy I was sort of checking out all night. So mystery guy and I made friends that night and when he declared that he'd be headed home I suggested we exchange phone numbers. I took his down and called his phone from mine.

I wonder what popped up. It would be really amusing if it was my full name, already there.

At least I still have really good taste when I'm blacked out.

Home is where your shoe collection is.

2010-01-24T17:24:00.000-08:00

I'm back. In Juneau. I think I was disappointed when I got on the plane and didn't recognize anyone, usually I know someone. I was not disappointed when I saw that it was actually sunny and beautiful and not disappointed that my friend Miss T would be picking me up from the airport.

I was also not disappointed when I had lunch with four of my friends, when I continued hanging out with one of my friends, when I met up with even more friends to attend Lunafest, or when I went out to the bars with my friends to have some drinks and dance.

I was also not disappointed when I put hot sauce on my tongue and put some boys to shame at a friend's house after leaving the bars.

I was also not disappointed to sleep in my own bed, even if it was cold.

I was also not disappointed to go to the Sandpiper with Miss C, run into other friends there, do my grocery shopping and relax, then go to work to be kept company by Miss S and Mr. J, among other friendly faces.

I was not disappointed to sleep in my own bed once again, even if it was cold.

I was not disappointed to have craft brunch today. And I'm not disappointed to have Miss M playing at the bar tonight while I work.

Going on vacation doesn't make the bad things about a place disappear, so it can be sort of unsettling to see the face of someone you'd rather not see, to hear about drama you had hoped would have blown over, but it does make all of the good things seem even brighter.

It was also nice to be home after a rather obnoxious connection at LAX, though I was not stuck airport sleeping, thanks to an old high school friend.

And now I am back in my cozy little apartment which has a kitchen table now, with my messy room and my full sized hot water heater that allows me to take unreasonably long, hot showers and with my plants that have still not died and with my roommate who is always full of energy and with all my dearest friends.

Money Makes the World Go 'Round

2010-01-20T11:30:00.001-08:00

I used to work at a credit union, the same credit union, in fact, that I keep my money at now. I am a paycheck to paycheck type of gal. I don't make that much money and most of it already has a place to go, places like rent checks and cell phone bills, credit card bills and buying food. And booze. I don't generally have much in my savings account and as a general rule it is more of a place to stash a wad of money for some specific purpose. I have over $800 in my savings right now, all for paying rent and bills and whatnot next month, since I'm not anticipating a paycheck from my non-existent day job.

So, here I am in Mexico City in a pinch. I've got M$50 or roughly $5 USD. And I have some real US dollars, approximately $9. I requested a new PIN for my ATM card 12 days ago, to be sent from a location in Alaska to my Alaska address. My roommate has been checking the mail every single day. Sources say the PIN was sent on the 8th, though it has not reached my mailbox.

I don't consider this to be my fault. I guess I could have requested a new PIN sooner, but had I done it a week earlier, the PIN still wouldn't arrive in time. Had I done it two weeks earlier, there is no estimating whether things could have been worked out in time.

Being the clever and former employee of the institution in question, I poked and prodded about what could be done. I asked if the "choose your own pin" option had ever been implemented, I also asked if the wire transfer fee might be waived, should I need to resort to borrowing money from my friend and would have to wire money back to her to pay her back.

NOPE. No options. Everyone was sweet as effin' cherry pie on the phone, but nobody offered solutions, nor was my own solution accepted.

The worst part is that I remember how well we had to treat the members with money. Hundreds of dollars worth of fees would be waived despite disclaimers about costs of different actions. They'd do anything to keep the big money. If someone had $100,000.00 in the bank, they'd waive $5 fees and $25 fees and $50 fees and do whatever it took to make members happy. If a member complained that their account was short $5, they would put $5 in the account to keep them happy. Whatever. It was petty shit.

I am poor and I am in trouble and my financial institution says, "Sorry! Nothing we can do!" But if I had $100,000.00 in the bank I would get whatever the hell I wanted.

Here's a nice empty threat - if I ever have $100,000.00 that needs a place to live, maybe it won't be in your institution. Maybe it will be under my mattress.

Anyway, if you were questioning whether money made the world go 'round - it's does.

How's this for culture?

2010-01-19T20:57:00.000-08:00

Today Miss A and I went to the Frida Kahlo house - it's a museum that is in the house that Frida Kahlo shared with Diego Rivera, it had a bunch of art and many belongings still in tact and in their places. I'm a fan of the art and I also think that their strong political stance was pretty awesome. Also awesome - the fact that some of their furniture was highlighter yellow. And that the house is bright blue.

But that's not all the culture I absorbed - oh no - Miss A, Miss J, Miss V and I went to a Lucha Libre match. We watched a bunch of masked men (and women) fake wrestle with bright lights and bright colors and crazy costumes. We drank beer and heckled and chanted and cheered.

When I get back to Juneau from Mexico I may have to do a series of photo posts. I think I promised to do that before and didn't, because I'm a slacker, but this time I will provide some access to photos at the very least.

Los Piramides

2010-01-18T18:21:00.000-08:00

The pyramids at Teotihuacan are amazing. There was a whole city there, once. Dwellings and temples as well as platforms and pyramids.

It is estimated to have been built in around 50-100 AD, you know, about 2000 years ago. AMAZING. And to continue with being badass, Miss J, Miss A and I climbed the Piramide del Sol and as much as was permitted of the Piramide de la Luna. The Piramide de la Luna isn't as tall as the Piramide del Sol, but the view is the best - you can see straight down the Road of the Dead, which has platforms lining it and the Piramide del Sol on the left.

Climbing the Piramide de la Luna was tough because the steps are really large, too large for our legs or for the legs of those that built it. The Piramide del Sol was a rough climb because it is enormous. From some meters away, the people climbing up look tiny, like insects or tiny toys.

We also got to go down inside some structures, which was neat. Especially since you could see some original frescos. There was a museum too! It took up pretty much the whole day and we were pretty tired by the end.

The bus rides there and back were interesting. There are so many things in Mexico that are very foreign to me and I don't know if I'd get used to how seemingly disorganized so many things are. Also, how many laws seem to be completely disregarded or maybe they don't exist - people in the aisles of buses, riding in the backs of trucks, swerving, cutting people off, ignoring red lights - totally nuts.

Officially Badass

2010-01-17T17:56:00.000-08:00

I think I do a lot of pretty cool things, you know, like getting drunk and making an ass of myself and... wait. No. But I do cool things. I went to the zoo and the Museum of Anthropology on Friday. That was pretty neat.

On Friday night Miss A, Miss J, and Miss J's novio and I went to Garibaldi plaza and saw a super kitsch Mariachi show and consumed a bottle of tequila. That was probably my most expensive day to that point, having spent over $50 dollars.

Most expensive day until yesterday when I JUMPED OUT OF A MOTHAFUCKIN' PLANE! I don't know if it was ever something I had really desired to do, not enough to go out and do it, anyway. If y'all remember a couple summers ago when I was dating Mountain Man, he was big into crazy shit like that and I witnessed him BASE jump. I think, even when it was something frequently discussed, my attitude was, "Oh, I'm just not that crazy." But when Miss J asked if I'd be interested in doing it I said yes. Then I talked it up to everyone and got all excited but without really thinking about the fact that I would be jumping out of a mothafuckin' plane. It didn't really get to me until I was in a harness and sitting in a tiny plane with no seats, cramped in with the pilot, two instructors and my friend Miss J.

Even during the plane ride up to the proper altitude I managed to calm myself, my heart wasn't beating too quickly and I was breathing regularly. Then the door opened and I was strapped to my instructor, Luis, who luckily used to be an English teacher (so I could understand what the hell was going on) and then I was told to put my leg out of the plane.

NO TURNING BACK.

That was it, I was going to be jumping out of a plane. I could feel tiny bits of ice pelting my face (good thing I had goggles) and the wind, air, whatever was hitting.

"One. Two. Three. READY. GO!"

Then I was free falling with a dude strapped to me. My stomach was who knows where in my body. I was face down, I was upside down, I was falling from a plane. Then, as I clutched my harness again, Luis released the 'chute and we were gliding. The rushing sound in my ears was gone, the feeling of impending doom was gone, and I was looking at Mexican countryside.

I got to steer a bit, pulling down on one strap or another to go right or left. I wasn't panicked at this point, I was sort of dazzled by the whole idea of floating through the sky. For my landing I gave up on the running with Luis and landed on my butt.

IT WAS AWESOME.

After that we had some beers while waiting for videos and pictures and certificates before we headed to the house of some of Miss J's friends on the lake. We had grilled meat and vegetables and had rice and tortillas and drank more beers while we looked out at the lake. There were even fireworks! Tequesquitengo knew that it was a day to celebrate!

I told this to my instructor and I believe it firmly - I've risked my life in cabs in Mexico City many times now, if I can live through that, jumping out of a plane is totally not risky. Then we had another scary drive back to Mexico (City) and we went to bed because jumping out of planes and eating a lot is tiring.

Side note:

A friend of mine spent 10 days at a silent meditation retreat, she explained to me that it was difficult to clear one's mind of all thoughts, that it took days upon days of meditation but that it was amazing to finally reach that state. I think I've found a shortcut. Jump out of a plane. I guarantee you will have no thoughts. Your medulla oblongata, the most primitive part of your brain, is in full control. Your lungs breathe, your heart beats, and apparently you can still scream.

Accompany at your own risk:

2010-01-15T17:10:00.000-08:00

I have done a fair share of traveling in my short life - I've traveled some of the time and with companions some of the time and I guess what I'm learning is that people should accompany at their own risk.

I'm sort of particular when I travel and I'm not terribly patient.

Yes, I'm an American but that doesn't mean I have to go to American stores or restaurants, act like an American or advertise that I'm an American. As a matter of fact, I would rather avoid Wal-Mart, McDonald's and any actions seen as typically American. I don't think this is all that different from my behaviors while I'm in the US, though.
I don't want the help that is offered to me - that cute little man with the badge kindly offering a tour of the Cathedral? He wants my money. I don't want to give it to him. I know how a church works, I don't want to waste $5 for 15 minutes of bullshit. I also don't care if that is how he makes a living - there are plenty of other suckers out there who can support him. Or he could get a job that doesn't rely on my patronage.
I'd rather spend a minimal amount of money on things like transportation, I also like to blend with a crowd and keep up the pace. I don't want to stop and look confused, I don't need to look at every map and I will clutch my purse to me like it's full of riches, even if I only have a hundred dollars and a camera worth about as much. Don't try to sell me anything either.
When in a foreign country, unless that country's food is disgusting, theirs is the food I'd like to eat. I want to eat Authentic food, street food, food from family owned restaurants. I also want reasonably priced food. In many places that means cheap food.
If I don't speak the language, I don't speak much. I prefer to be quiet and inconspicuous. Sometimes it is impossible to be inconspicuous - like as a Guera - but I still like to keep my nationality and my preferred language to myself.
I try to avoid colloquialisms and slang terms - there are some things that don't translate well and if I must speak English to a non native speaker I would like to keep it simple and easy to understand.
I walk. A lot. I'll walk miles in a day without any particular destination. I like to just get absorbed in a culture and see what happens.

In some ways, this has made for fool proof traveling - I don't often get ripped off, I have never been robbed, I always find my way eventually and I tend to enjoy myself. Still, I can see how some of my quirks as a traveler might get on the nerves of my companions.

Mi Amor!

2010-01-14T17:34:00.000-08:00

Soy guerita.

Especially in the off season, I stand out. I am fair skinned with orange hair and I have heard on many occasions utterings of "guera," "guerita," "bonita," etc. I have also found gentlemen to be very welcoming of me and my guera friends.

It's made for an interesting trip so far. In some ways it is obnoxious and in some ways charming. Everyone begs money or tries to sell to us - we are white, we must have money!

I've also had a couple guys who became rather enamored with me. Solely based on looks since I barely speak a word of Spanish. Back home it is always my charming personality that gets me attention, in Mexico it is my white skin, blue eyes, and strawberry blonde hair. First was Piti who welcomed Miss A and me into the bar we had walked into, he pulled up seats for us and stuck around us most of the night. He tried to kiss me, too. Then while on the beach there was Geronimo. Yes, Geronimo. He had a lot of native blood and apparently does the Aztec dances at the Templo Mayor in Mexico City sometimes. He didn't speak any English and I don't speak much Spanish at all, so he made Abby translate to me how beautiful I am, he protested when I put on a skirt over my swimsuit and sunglasses over my eyes, he made hand motions that his heart beats for me and he begged for a kiss on the cheek.

Acapulco beaches were covered in people selling things and the streets of Mexico City are full. I saw a man in clown makeup juggling in front of stopped traffic and asking for money. People sell bottles of water to cars stopped at traffic lights. Speaking of traffic lights - red apparently doesn't always mean stop. People in Mexico City drive like mad men - they are all speeding and swerving and putting on their hazard lights for seemingly no meaning and blinkers mean nothing and pedestrians are merely obstacles. It's nuts. Today there was an ambulance with lights flashing and sirens blaring and nobody pulled aside or stopped. Remind me to not have an emergency in Mexico City.

Oh, and the food is wonderful. I know for a fact I've gained weight since I arrived since my pants are a little tighter than they were before. Hopefully all the walking in Mexico City will burn it off - I know sitting on a beach for four days with sporadic ocean swims didn't help.

One more note - most of the people in Acapulco didn't swim. I don't think they know how. We gueras were way further out in the ocean and we had some people comment about our ability to swim. Strange that people living on the ocean wouldn't be excellent swimmers.

Viva Mexico!

2010-01-09T12:00:00.000-08:00

When you read this, I'll be in Acapulco! On the beach!

My first day in Mexico City, a half day-ish, the highlight was seeing my friend Miss J again, eating tacos at a taqueria and drinking beer - spending less than $20 for both of us to have more than we could eat and four beers to wash away the spiciness on our tongues. I had to take a brief break to cool my tongue - I anticipate I'll have killed some taste buds by the end of this trip.

My second day in Mexico City I slept in and spent some time talking to ATT about what kind of damage using my phone abroad might have. Not as bad as I had expected. Which is nice because I sent the following text messages to Miss J today:

"I might be sort of lost, but the goal is to find my way back within an hour. Near Parque Espana right now." (Not actually too far away from Roma Sur)

"I think I'm officially just lost now. Think I'm in Col. del Valle Norte and kind of wandering, looking for a good person to ask directions" (I didn't ask the dude with the eye patch)

"2 good things. Found street called Alaska and am on Medellin." (Then I went the wrong way and was on Amores before turning around and getting back on Avenida Medellin)

I was out exploring for about 4 hours and developed a nice blister on the back of my left heel. Good thing for me that I brought some slippers with fake sheep fleece inside. Much better. I only spent M$4.50 during the course of the day - on a bottle of water. That's less than $0.50 USD.

By the time I got back Miss J was done with teaching for the day and back, so she made us some soup and we were relaxing until her boyfriend came over. We went to the mall briefly and there were obscene amounts of people. While walking around I had been surprised at how few people I saw on the streets (relative to the population of 20 million) but they are all in cars. And in the mall, apparently.

It's been raining since I arrived, apparently residents of Mexico City think they will melt and try to stay inside or they carry around large umbrellas.

Some little things that show that this isn't as developed as the US (though some in Alaska do live pretty simple lives in cabins and whatnot) there are frequent power outages (more than we see in Juneau and unrelated to avalanches) and to get hot water you light the pilot light in the furnace only when you want hot water, rather than keeping your water constantly hot. To be honest, I think it might not be such a bad idea - but I'm a big tree-hugging hippie if you ask my dad.

More later. When I return from beach vacation within vacation!

Friends in... places. Part II: To friend or not to friend.

2010-01-08T01:54:00.000-08:00

I have a blog - you know this, you are reading it. I guess it would only make sense that I am also an avid social networker, using sites like facebook and twitter - I even still dabble in myspace.

I find myself in a bit of a dilemma, inflamed by my recent trip home. To friend or not to friend?

I've run into a number of people I haven't seen since high school. Some I've kept in touch with through some means or another, others I haven't but was pleasantly surprised to see, still others with whom I am perfectly happy to have parted ways.

I am curious, though. What are they doing now? Since high school, it seems that nobody cares much for the old social circles we once kept. The popular kids are friends with the stoners, the preppies are mingling with the punk rockers, the kids who graduated in 2000 are hanging out with the kids who graduated in 2005, etc. But that's here. These people run into each other at the bars or the market or wherever. I am living thousands of miles away and wondering occasionally at the faces popping up in the right hand column of my facebook home page as "suggested users."

That girl who was in my class - she's married? And that one has a kid! That guy right there, he is doing what? It's not like I want to be friends with these people or anything - but can I wait until the ten year reunion to sate this morbid curiosity?

Do people wonder what I'm doing? For my sake, I hope not. My current status of "technically unemployed" isn't terribly impressive.

The question remains and I will ask you, my dear reader(s): To friend or not to friend? Do you friend old high school acquaintances? Even those you haven't seen since then?

Friends in... places.

2010-01-07T01:13:00.000-08:00

I have spent almost a full week in the ol' home town. Redmond, Oregon. It's been nearly two years since I had been here last. Back in April 2008, maybe.

It's always slightly strange to be back, having spent most of the past 7 years in other parts of the state, the country or the Western Hemisphere. I came this time mostly just to see my sister and her new baby. When I say mostly I mean entirely. I was really happy to spend time with my sisters, happy to see my parents, excited to see some old friends - but it was really about Mr. and Mrs. M and baby J.

Since being here I managed to spend at least an hour every day with my sister and my nephew, usually several hours. I saw Necktie Killer play on Wednesday night with my friend Mr. A. It made me feel pretty nostalgic for the days when SKA music was big. I saw Mad Caddies in concert once at the Meow Meow in Portland, Oregon - I don't even think the Meow Meow is still around. I also took my youngest sisters to pizza and to see The Fantastic Mr. Fox, which is great because it is suitable for children but is clever and witty and Wes Anderson for me. I also hit up some stores we don't have in Juneau - I never thought I'd be so excited to enter a target store. And tonight I spent the last of my time with family and the rest of my night with old friends and friends of my sister and her husband. I danced with some of the groomsmen from their wedding and wished one of my sister's oldest friends a happy birthday. All while rocking out to Larry and His Flask - a band I've seen grow up. A LOT. I recall seeing some of these guys play at a battle of the bands at an assembly in high school. Two years ago I saw them playing at a house party. This time, seeing them play, I was amazed. They've taken their punk rock energy and combined it with some slightly country roots. They went from all electric to all acoustic instruments, replacing the electric guitars with honey colored acoustic guitars, replacing the sleek electric bass with an upright bass, adding a banjo and a mandolin. I wish I could better describe it. Anyway, I'm going to do what I can to get those guys to Juneau. I think they'd be well received.

I leave in only a few hours to head to Mexico. Redmond - LAX - Mexico City. The real vacation starts then!

Aunt or Auntie?

2009-12-31T02:51:00.000-08:00

My sister and her husband, Mr. and Mrs. MM, have had their first child! He was born December 30th, 10:24pm and weighed 7 lb 4 oz. He is the cutest friggin' baby EVER and has a ridiculous amount of red hair.

I am so ridiculously excited to cuddle my brand new nephew! I leave on the 1st and almost wish I could leave earlier.

But considering I haven't cleaned, done laundry, run all my errands or packed - the 1st is still the best option.

Merry Fuckmas

2009-12-25T21:47:00.000-08:00

Christmas ceased to be my favorite holiday a long time ago. There comes a point when you become all too aware of the family drama and the stresses of the holiday season while still living at home - even then it is tolerable because everyone wears a happy face. When I was in college I was still going home for Christmas, except for the year spent with Miss L and Miss K in Germany. Since then, though, Christmas has been this awkward day spent with strange families or, in this case, in a cloud of marijuana smoke and in an empty bar.

Christmas eve is a great night for the twenty or even thirty somethings - unless you have kids, Christmas eve is just another occasion to stay out late drinking. No need to tuck in to wait for Santa to come. I had a pretty good Christmas eve, really, especially when all the other bars closed and everyone came up to my bar to drink. By the end of the night most of the food was gone and I had made some decent money in tips.

Christmas is another story. I don't believe in God. I don't believe in Jesus. I also don't celebrate any pagan holidays like solstice or Yule or anything. It should be like any other day. December 25th should be just like October 25th or January 25th or any other cold, rainy, wintery month. It must be the media, the entire marketing field, the cities with their lights - they are all reminding you that today is Christmas and that it is a day to be spent with family. I don't even necessarily get along with my family all that well and this stupid day makes me miss them. And it feels weird to be part of other families' Christmas gatherings, too.

I think my best time this entire evening was sitting in the bar with another bitter non-believer, drinking hot buttered rum and bitching about Christmas.

I didn't used to hate this day like I do now. Hope everyone else enjoyed theirs.

I went to a friend's place for Christmas dinner. Late. It was cold and they don't have a microwave. Everyone was smoking pot and staring at the television. The friend who was my main reason for being there wasn't even inside. I sat quietly, wishing I could have entered the night with a better attitude. Or wishing I smoked pot so I could join the stoned masses. But no, I just let my hair and clothing absorb the dank scent while I moped in a crowd. Stupid holidays aimed at making single people feel lonely. If I didn't know better I'd blame fucking e-Harmony or some shit company, trying to make us feel like we need a partner to be happy.

Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness

2009-12-15T12:43:00.000-08:00

It says it in the muthafuckin' declaration of independence - we are entitled to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Or, I mean, that's what we were going for.

I pursue happiness a lot. I don't consider it to be an always elusive goal, there are definitely times when I am happy. But Happiness, once reached, is not a constant state. A person must work to maintain happiness. Sometimes, in my pursuit of happiness upkeep, crazy things happen.

1. I've quit my day job. I've always felt it is not a good idea to quit a job without having another job lined up but I've also determined that if something makes you absolutely miserable - don't do it. I like the goal of my job, I just can't stand the means. I would wake up dreading it, I would go to sleep dreading it, I would spend all my time dreading it. Not really on the path to happiness there.

2. I've consumed copious amounts of alcohol. Now, this may seem counterproductive, alcohol being a depressant and all - but as many of us in the world know, going out to bars and parties can be a lot of fun and going to bars and parties is the most fun when you and everyone else are similarly intoxicated. Being the sober person can be exasperating.

This weekend was a good example of alcohol in pursuit of fun and happiness - nothing bad happened (hooray) and we all had jolly good times. There was dancing and singing (I did some karaoke) and flirting and Apples to Apples and talking and laughing and crafting and brunching and all sorts of happy things.

3. I have been filling my time with friends and activities. Sometimes I can really enjoy sitting at home and reading or writing or drawing or doing yarn sports, but other times I need to be around friends. The past week or so have been packed and it only continues in that grain:

Thursday was girls' night, Friday was Miss S's return and live music at the Alaskan, Saturday I worked but had tons of fun, Sunday was craft brunch and the 'SINful' Holiday Party, yesterday I had dinner at the L house, this afternoon I'll be hanging out and drawing with my friend Mr. J, tomorrow I have a dinner party to attend at Miss J's house, Thursday is Santacon Juneau, Friday is a fundraiser and ugly sweater party, Saturday I work again, as goes for Sunday, then it gets to a week which is too far away to have planned for, but it is just about Christmas time.

4. Inadvisable vacations are my forte. I will be leaving town for three weeks. THREE WEEKS! I have just quit my job and I am a paycheck to paycheck kinda gal, anyway. I should probably not run off on vacation for three weeks, but somehow I've been pretty good and I have enough money in my bank account and enough coming in that I can go to Oregon for a week to see my sister and my nephew to be and then go bask in Mexico's sunshine. And maybe I'll come back with no money (except what I've set aside to be sure I can pay rent and whatnot) but I will be happy and another job is inevitably around the corner. I've been underemployed before but never for long.

So, all these strange and inadvisable things, are they making me happy? Yes. I am pretty happy. I am happy with my decisions and happy with my future plans (the two month plan, I don't have a plan beyond that, really) and happy with right now, sitting on my couch and blogging about this nonsense.

Dating a Professional

2009-12-10T02:15:00.000-08:00

Today I went to the dentist for the first time in at least three years. I figured I have a dental plan right now, so I had better go and get things taken care of. I got a brutal teeth cleaning and had to schedule more than one future appointment to get some cavities filled.

For those of you with absolutely perfect teeth, congratulations. My teeth have deep grooves and I also enjoy chocolate. I don't think these babies had a chance.

That's not my point, though. I didn't come here to point out my dental imperfections, though my dentist did point out that they could probably stick something to the weird half tooth so it would look like a normal human tooth. My point is, and you can tell by the title: dating professionals.

I didn't ask for recommendations for a dentist. I didn't read up on it. I chose my dentist based on proximity and the fact that I walked by his office most days. It's right by my office. I determined, when we were introduced, that my dentist is not a bad looking guy. A handsome looking professional like that - probably married.

But could you imagine dating a dentist? OK, again with the readers with the perfect teeth, whatever. I have crooked teeth, that weird half tooth (it's a genetic mutation or something - no super human powers), and I am more likely to use my floss for fixing something than its actual purpose.

The pressure of dating a dentist would be TOO MUCH. I can just picture going out to dinner with a dentist and excusing myself to the powder room every 15 minutes to check to see if things are in my teeth, check my breath, make sure my gums aren't even slightly swollen. I'd probably floss and brush directly after finishing the meal so that when we are leaving the restaurant and I smile and thank him for the lovely dinner, he isn't horrified by the piece of pepper stuck between my two front teeth or something.

And that's just the first date, right? What about when you have sleep overs. You would probably have to carry a toothbrush with you just in case you end up sleeping over. Then you get there and you wonder if you start making out or if you wait to brush your teeth. Are you going to have coffee? Or is he concerned about stains - should you be concerned about stains? And then when you are going to bed, are you trying to brush your teeth for just as long as he brushes his? Are you watching the motions he uses? Or maybe you are eying his sonic toothbrush and thinking that it is way stronger than your... never mind.

All I'm saying is that I could never date a dentist because I'd be way too worried that he'd be scrutinizing my teeth and dental hygiene 24/7 and I just can't deal with that. But maybe you are planning ahead and figure that if you end up marrying the dentist you can have free teeth whitenings and you'll have the best in dental hygiene technology and that you'll never have to worry about whether you have a dental plan again. After all, would I be so self conscious about my teeth had I had them cleaned professionally in the past three years? Or had I maybe gotten little ol' halfy the tooth crowned? Or had I gotten braces when I was in grade school and it would have completed my dorky look?

A couple notes:

The half tooth is half longways - it's a super skinny tooth. I know, it's sort of cruel that I'd get an anorexic looking tooth when the rest of me is anything but.

I did have a retainer in elementary school, my orthodontist was all about the minimal equipment to get a job done, little did he know (apparently) that elementary school kids are horrible about wearing their retainers or that my parents would decide to move and his whole plan would be foiled.

Between my hygienist and my dentist, I was talked into buying one of the sonic toothbrushes - I used it for the first time tonight and OH EM GEE was that strange. I hear you get used to it. I kind of sprayed toothpaste all over. But my teeth do feel clean. And satisfied.

Alt Art AK

2009-12-05T12:51:00.000-08:00

WE FRIGGIN' DID IT!!!

Mister D, Miss B, Mister M and I did it. We got the art, we did the publicity, we put together the show and we were a hit.

For many we may have been just another stop, for some we may have been the red headed stepchildren of the art scene, but for some we were the only stop, we were it, where people wanted to be.

We featured around 12 artists, we had everything displayed properly, though we definitely got a little creative with some of our displays, and we even sold some art. Hooray!

We will be keeping the place open by our volunteer hours for the next few weeks or a month.

If you are in Juneau and would like to drop in, we're at 127 S Franklin next to the skate shop.

A Woman Silenced or a Woman Scorned

2009-12-03T16:47:00.000-08:00

Warning: This post is one of a very serious nature about a very serious and potentially controversial topic: Sexual assault. It is a personal account and I hope that through my sharing, there are others who feel like they need no longer be silent.

I recognize that, as someone living in a small community, this post may elicit some concern or some criticism. This is what I choose to share, no more. This is as far as I go, no further.

If your iPod got stolen, if your car got broken into, if you were involved in a barroom brawl, you would talk about it. You would complain to your friends that now you have to buy a new iPod, that your stereo was so nice and now you can't afford a better one, about how the fight started and ended and how everyone should see the other guy. Bad things happen. You can talk about it.

But not always. When a woman is subject to sexual assault or domestic violence, she is silent. Women make up excuses for why their significant other hit them, they contemplate all the reasons it may have been their fault that they had non-consensual sex. I was wearing a short skirt. I was flirting. I don't really remember what happened because I had been drinking, but maybe I did want it. A woman may feel more guilt for being a victim than the perpetrator feels for sexually assaulting a woman who did not consent.

Only a very small number of instances of sexual assault are reported. To speak up is to be scorned. A woman I know filed a complaint about sexual harassment in the workplace and not only has nothing come of it, people mumble and grumble about her stirring up trouble. There is also a question of what constitutes sexual assault? That would be sex without consent, right? But consent is this awful gray area. If a woman is blackout drunk, can she consent to sex?

I choose break the silence. I choose to speak. I will not speak in full detail, but it is a story shared by many women, many of my friends.

I enjoy drinking. A lot. It's probably awful, I started drinking in college, engaging in college binge drinking culture. I would drink copious amounts of alcohol on my weekend nights, waking up to horrible hangovers and a very patchy memory. It didn't stop when I graduated college, though. I work at a bar myself and hang out with other people who work in this industry and I'm not going to hide it, many, if not all of us, are alcoholics by some definition or another. We drink often and we drink a lot.

I can't count the number of times I have gotten carried away and consumed so much alcohol that I have been slurring my words, that I have blacked out, that I have vomited. It's an unacceptably large number, I assure you.

Not too long ago, I awoke in my bed with a throbbing headache, a dry mouth, and hardly any memory of the night before. On some mornings like this, I might chuckle to myself and think, “Must have been a good night.” but on that particular day I awoke feeling awful. It wasn't just my pounding head or my dehydration, nor was it the fact that I had fallen asleep face first in my pillow with my clothing still on. I had no idea how I had gotten home or when I had gotten home or what I had been doing for however many hours prior to having gone home. I did my best to recover, showering, drinking liters of water – then I went to work. In the afternoon I received a text message teasing about me and a man – I suddenly remembered that he and I had been talking – no – making out. Not someone I would choose to make out with, but we all make mistakes. Then I got more and more teasing. Friends texting, friends who dropped by.

Then I got a message on facebook that said, “I know.” and I was confused. Was this like a teen slasher flick? You know what I did last summer and now you are going to kill me? I didn't get an answer, which was strange, but I have a lot of friends who smoke a lot of pot, so I don't consider any interaction too weird.

On Monday I got a phone call from one of my best friends. She asked if there was something I wanted to tell her and I was again frustrated that everyone seemed to know about my making out with this guy. I responded with, “Oh, about making out with [man's name]? I figured everyone already knew.” She was quiet for a moment and said, “What I heard was not making out, Melissa, what I heard was much worse. Did you?” “Did I what, have sex with him? No. Is that what he is saying?”

But then I thought about that night and I realized that I didn't have any recollection of having sex with this person, but had I possibly had sex with this person? I concentrated as hard as I could and managed to piece together a few more vague memories, patches, here and there. I told my friend I didn't want to talk about it and that I had to go. I ended our conversation and spent the rest of the evening locked in my mind, trying to uncover any clues. I scoured phone and social networking and, aha, I discovered a very drunken message sent, likely via facebook mobile, rather incoherent, encouraging the person to call me. No recollection of sending that. In a sober state, or even in a less drunk state, I would not kiss this person, let alone have sex with this person. I even recall pulling away a friend of mine who had been talking to him, a couple years ago.

What had I done?

Well, really, I had no idea what I had done, but the slurring, sloppy drunk me had apparently done something. And not only that, apparently everyone knew about it. Could I have consented to whatever happened? I could have possibly said. “Oh, yes, please!” but whether it is strict law or just ought to be, a person in an altered state cannot really consent.

Here I was – here I AM – feeling awful, staying at home, avoiding people and places, thinking constantly about what I had done, what he had done, knowing that I was a “slut” and that he was a “stud” and that I was looked down upon and mocked and that he was probably congratulated and high-fived. That I had been a victim of sexual assault, and that he will be unaffected. I went to dinner with my friend who had informed me of the depth of the rumor and she got me to talk. I told her everything and I told her how hopeless it all was. There was absolutely nothing I could do but let it all blow over and try to never allow myself to be in that position again. But there is one thing I can do.

I, a victim, choose not to suffer in silence, but to share this story. I share this story here because I can't do anything better but make people aware of a major problem. It's nearly a week later and I have no evidence that anything has occurred, had their been witnesses they may have said I wanted it, I also have no proof of my level of intoxication. To file a report, to try to press charges – it is futile. I would waste time and money, I would, like the woman I know, stir trouble, and I would be stressed out. And when it is all over and the case is dismissed because there is nothing really there but a woman who says she was too drunk to consent – I'll be a woman who is both scorned AND silenced.

So if I must choose, scorn me for sharing this story, but do not silence me. By sharing my story, I feel that there is one more voice calling for laws to be changed so that women are not victimized by the legal system as well as by the men who take advantage of them or assault them.

One of the worst things is that, despite having been taken advantage of and having to hear the worst of it as a rumor, I still have to force myself to call it what it is – I feel guilt and I feel shame and I am the victim.

Middle Ground

2009-11-29T12:25:00.000-08:00

I gave up drinking for most of the month of November. Then on Thanksgiving I re-entered the world of the drinking and I've discovered something.

I don't need to be a tee-totaller. Nor should I be a complete shit show. I need to find a middle ground.

I went from completely sober to complete shit show on Thursday/Friday and now it's time to find a balance.

But first, to take advantage of the other opportunities offered on Thanksgiving weekend, I am off to the Public Market with the roomie.

Cannibal Canard

2009-11-23T12:21:00.000-08:00

Amid a puppy filled evening of glee, I had a rude awakening. I sat at the table cuddling Miss B's new puppy, finding comfort in the furry ball of warmth as the tale was told.

Miss N, in a very serious voice, begins telling a story, which she warned would take a little time.

When I was living in San Antonio, a friend of mine went to this party with a male friend of hers. They were drinking and having fun and she met this guy - they hit it off. The two of them were making out all through the night, they even went into some room and, you know, hooked up. She gave him a blowjob or something. Then he said he was going home and he really wanted her to come with him. She said that she would, but she was having too much fun at the party and wanted to stay longer. He kept pushing, "Come on, come home with me, it'll be fun!" and she declined, but took his number, saying she'd call him and if they still had the same spark the next day, they would go from there. She stayed at the party, drinking and having fun, while he actually lingered past the time he declared he'd be leaving, trying again to convince her to go home with him. Now, she's sort of, you know, the type of girl who would definitely go home with a guy, but her friend she went to the party with pointed out that the guy seemed a little creepily desperate and she agreed that going home with him was a bad idea. She reiterated that she would give him a call and went home with her friend instead.

The next day, she woke up with a rash around her mouth, it was red, swollen, had pustules. She freaked out and called her doctor, they had had a cancellation and told her if she could get there in the next 15 to 20 minutes they could see her. She drove across San Antonio and arrived at the doctor, explaining the rash around her mouth. The doctor assured her it wasn't Herpes, but he didn't know what it was. He gave her a topical medication he said should, at least, lessen the swelling and bring down the rash, informing her that he would call her if he discovered what rash was ailing her.

Two days later she was at work and received a call from her doctor, his voice was urgent when he asked her to come to his office right away. She explained that she was at work and that she couldn't get there then, but offered to come in later. The doctor told her his news had precedence over work and that she should come immediately. She managed to get away from work and arrived at the doctor's office in reasonable time, where she was met not only by her doctor, but by two men in uniforms. She was frightened. The doctor explained to her that the rash she had acquired was very rare and could be contracted in one of two ways, either through the consumption of large amounts of human flesh, or through close contact with someone who has consumed large amounts of human flesh. The doctor instructed the girl to explain how she may have gotten the rash and she described the incidents of her night. The officers asked if she had any way to contact the man and she recalled that she had his phone number and provided it to the officers.

Within days, the home of the man had been located and a swat team was dispatched to the location. When they entered the home they searched and found the remains of three partially eaten bodies of women in the freezer.

So, there you go, don't be promiscuous! I was horrified. Miss N knew the girl, or knew the girls friend, something like that. She said the party had been mostly her friends. I suddenly questioned my safety - I had gone home with a guy before - what if he had been a serial killing cannibal! I clutched Nova more tightly, even wondering about past boyfriends, were they serial killing cannibals? Were they just waiting until the right time to kill me and feast on my chunky man-calves?

I finished the night at the bar and snuggled with Nova-puppy all night, thinking of cannibal killers when I would awaken to her twitch or whimper.

This morning I decided to do the smart thing and research this cannibal canard, coming up with a handful of questions sites talking about a friend's roommate's brother's girlfriend's friend, a friend of a friend, the friend of a friend of a cousin, all with a similar story about meeting a guy at a club.party and making the fateful decision to reign in those promiscuous and lusty desires, staying with friends instead of leaving with the charismatic stranger, only to find out, when a rash is diagnosed, that she has narrowly avoided a fate worse than death - death followed by dinner.

I'm a skeptic, generally, so I generally assume that all these six degrees away story tellers have been audience to the same urban legend that ruined my sleep last night and made me swear to change my liberated ways.

The only real story I saw out there was about a cannibal mother who killed her infant and ate its brains, she was suffering from psychosis, apparently. I think that is possibly more disturbing and, as in many a true story, there is no moral in sight. Sometimes life just sucks.

But right now I have a puppy to snuggle, so I won't let it get me down.

The Old Days

2009-11-18T03:01:00.000-08:00

Ashley at Writing to Reach You has been blogging through the school years. I don't think I can do one blog post per year, since my younger years are vague memories at best and the more recent years are full of debauchery and absurdity... Instead, I am going to break it down, writing a sentence or so about each year or so.

Preschool - we had swings. We had music time and I liked the triangle.

Kindergarten - our teacher was nice (I think all Kindergarten teachers have to be nice) and when we did an assignment we got to put a dot sticker on our ladybug and when we filled our ladybug we got a prize. Maybe if the prizes had been better I would have developed better habits.

First Grade - our teacher was mean and ugly, from my memory. Whenever we got in trouble we had to write to one hundred on a piece of graph paper with exactly 100 squares. I was already proving to be a lazy genius, as I would fill out the page systematically, being very aware of the pattern and understanding the efficiency of writing the same number repeatedly. I was a one woman assembly line of 1 to 2 digit numbers. I think I peed my pants in class once. I don't know why kids aren't allowed to go to the bathroom without permission.

Second Grade - Who did I even have? I think her name might have been Mrs. Carter. I think she was like your average teacher those days, with a bad sort of mushroom cut and frequently wearing corduroy jumpers. My mom and step dad got married. My sister Michele was born. I think we also moved to a new neighborhood, leaving a lot of friends behind.

Third Grade - Fourth Grade - I was in a 3rd-4th combined class. In 3rd Grade I remember we were supposed to do some sort of presentation in front of the class, I got so nervous I cried and declared that I couldn't do it. Mrs. Mulrooney threatened that I would get a 0, an F if I didn't do it. I took the poor grade. We watched The Princess Bride in class. My best friends were Rachel, who was in a different class, and Audrey. In fourth grade I used to hang out with Audrey all the time, even going to a Renaissance Faire dressed up. She had a schizo moment when I was at her house and I made her mom take me home in the middle of the night. That may have been the end of it. I was also friends with Nina and Morgan among others. I think I hit a boy at recess once.

Fifth Grade - Sixth Grade - I was again in a combined class, the Gifted and Talented Education classes were always combined. Maybe this is when I had Mrs. Carter. Yeah. We called her Mrs. Carterski. I don't know why. Who did I have for second grade? Montesano? Oh well. I had my first crush on a boy, Tyler Roberts. Friggin' Cody Dadew told him. This is when people first started to have boyfriends and girlfriends. I had one boy come up to me during recess and ask me if I wanted to go out with his friend. I said 'no' because I didn't think he was being serious. I wasn't that cool. I would play games like Miss Mary Mac at recess sometimes and Iesha said the word 'bitch." My dad was teaching me to play softball. I was going to be on a team.

Between Sixth Grade and Seventh Grade my family moved to Oregon. My sister and I didn't know anyone and we lived way far away from people so we played outside in the backyard wearing shorts with boots pretending we were in Jurassic Park or playing other weird games. Michele got stuck by her pants on a rock and Meg and I discovered her.

Seventh Grade - I had started a new school in a new state - the first day was on my birthday. A girl I had met while registering for school and had had a sleepover with once discovered that she could be cool and left me behind pretty much immediately. I think she stole my Fiona Apple CD. I made friends with Tricia and a girl named Velvet Lafaun, who is most likely in porn now. I was no longer in the classes for smart kids and I started doing worse in school, despite everything being easier. Tricia had to move and I became friends with Tyana and her group of friends. I committed vandalism and got sentenced to one day of in school suspension.

Eighth Grade - Still friends with many of the same people for a while, I staged an uprising in Tyana's crew, Katrina and I split off. I later became BFF with Kristin and Josie - we sat together in Satan Maffai's class. I was still a horrible student and spent more time mastering the art of folding notes than anything else. My sister Maddie was born. I tested really well and was to be put in all honors classes in high school, though Satan Maffai was opposed to this. A girl I knew got pregnant.

Ninth Grade - The friendships continued to shift and I had a big falling out with Kristin at the end of the year. I had a big crush on this boy, Brandon, but he had a big crush on Kristin. I wanted very much to be cool and still did pretty poorly in school, managing to just barely pass a lot of classes, despite being intelligent enough. I took lots of art classes, though I nearly failed one of those, as well. I just didn't turn stuff in.

Tenth Grade - I still wasn't doing amazingly well, but I started hanging out with some good influences, future valedictorians, some of them. I took more art classes, still had a big crush on Brandon, made friends with his girlfriend, who remained a close friend for the rest of high school and somewhat beyond. I used to write and illustrate notes with Laura and Rachel. Rachel makes amazing zines now. I still keep in touch with Laura as well, even though she moved. Laura, Allison and I made a ridiculous video based on our overactive imaginations and a number of films we had watched that weekend.

Eleventh Grade - I got straight A's for the first time in my life. I really turned things around and started to be a good student. I took every art class available and a number of social studies classes as well, but I had refused, for some stupid reason, to take AP History, choosing, instead to take the regular history classes. In my freshman year I had refused to take Biology instead of the regular science class because I couldn't get Katie to switch classes with me. I am pretty sure high school kids shouldn't be provided with choices. I was hanging out with a lot of the same people, but secretly (or not) wanted to be a punk rocker and used to hang out at "the rock" a lot.

Twelfth Grade - I was a much better student, I finally had my driver's license, and I felt like I had some pretty good friends. I was taking lots of independent study classes for art and lots of social studies classes, which is why I graduated with a Social Studies Honors Diploma. I had gone through a dozen or more crushes over the year and never managed to have a single boyfriend. I got stood up by a guy for prom. I was pretty ok with not having boyfriends and used to ask all my male friends to dance, usually not getting rejected, if I recall correctly. I was applying to colleges and was determined to go to a private college. My dad tried to talk me out of college and I won that argument easily. I was an attorney in Mock Trial that year and I had Mr. Hanson for a teacher for two classes and he was the greatest. This is when I decided that I would pursue politics instead of art for a career. I used to hang out a lot with my friend Megan too, I went to a party with her. I swore off drinking. During my last two years of high school I spoke to youth against drinking, drugs, and having sex before being ready. When I graduated we were allowed to walk in pairs or groups of three. Nathalie and I were going to walk together. Amanda asked me to join our group and Callie asked Nathalie. We both said yes, independently, and when we took the final walk, I ended up walking with Callie and Nathalie with Amanda. I worked at a pizza parlor with Allison and Nicole and there was a guy who was older than us who used to flirt with all the girls. During that summer Nicole and I worked for a week as flaggers at a road construction site.

Then I went to college and became the tree hugging, bleeding heart liberal that I am today.

That's Just How I Roll

2009-11-17T14:58:00.000-08:00

The past couple weeks have been filled with lots of bright and shiny ideas. A new art show in town, hooray! A new art project, hooray! New crocheting projects, hooray!

And Roller Derby.

I know, I know. You think it's because Whip It came out and I want to ride that wave. Well, I didn't see Whip It. Damn it. My friend Miss M (one of many, it gets confusing for me too) has had the goal for a little while now to start a derby league in Juneau and she chose fairly recently to feel out interest. Well, there has been a ton of interest. Apparently Juneau is full of girls who want to release some pent up aggression on wheels.

We've had our first planning meeting and we are working on finding a location, all getting our skates and pads and helmets, learning the rules and regulations, and, of course, coming up with names.

Names in Roller Derby are huge - it's ridiculous. Everyone needs a sweet name and you can't double up. My first choice was Melicious, but that's taken. Tons of names are taken, there is a database online so you can be sure you aren't breaking a cardinal rule of derby and going as a second Bloody Mary or something like that.

Right now my favorite option is "The Mean Red" which is pretty badass, refers to my defining feature, and is a literary reference all in one. Nobody steal my idea. I'll be angry. And I'm this close to being a roller girl and you don't want to fuck with a roller girl!

There's a name for that...

2009-11-16T12:03:00.001-08:00

There is a name for how geeky I was.

I was just skimming through my RSS reader and saw that cracked had a piece referencing the kid from Jurassic Park. Must be Timmy. When I was younger, elementary school? Middle school? I'm not really sure - I wrote a story about the character, Timmy, going back to school. In the story, he went back and was constantly paranoid about dinosaurs, providing all other students with an easy target for mockery. At the end of the story, if I remember correctly, dinosaurs end up attacking the school and Timmy is vindicated. Then eaten.

Holy shit, guys, I was so nerdy, I wrote Jurassic Park FAN FIC. I had no idea what fan fic was, nor have I ever been nerdy enough to read it since my introduction to the term. Apparently, though, when I was a mere pre-teen, possibly an early teen, I was a horrible geek.

I would like to point out, however, that my fan fic was AWESOME because I was apparently as morbid and cynical as a tween as I am as an adult. I made the kid suffer the slings and arrows of a thousand bullies and then, when he was right, he gets gnawed on by T-Rex?

Probably raptors, actually.

Little Red Wagon

2009-11-12T14:56:00.000-08:00

I've had a couple friends say that they may join me on the wagon - but it appears that I'm alone on a little red wagon because nobody else has decided that the cause is one that fits their lifestyles at the moment. That's fine with me. It could be fun to have fellow non-drinkers, but I can do it alone. I have at least one or two friends who aren't big drinkers and I can engage in non drinking activities with even my drinking friends. It's not so hard as one might think.

I've been pretty productive lately. I have been doing things with clubs and fundraisers and non-profits and working on the art show and other activities.

I've also been a voice of reason in the otherwise dramatic lives of some friends. It's funny. It's funny because I feel like I haven't experienced all that much in my relatively short life - I've had one functional relationship that lasted all of three months in proper form and continues somewhat as a shadow of a relationship since he and I continue to talk and intend to see each other again. But somehow I have a perspective on things such that I can provide reasonable advice?

And I may just say this every post, but I love my roommate. We have a lot of fun, even if we are just sitting around crocheting, or going to bars and crocheting, or watching horror movies and crocheting. I think I am going to end up with arthritis, like my grandma got, from all this crocheting.

No B & B, Plenty of Fun

2009-11-09T15:46:00.000-08:00

I think I might be telling secrets, but I'll risk it.

When I was in college I was in a sorority (that's not the secret) and there were certain times when we were really focused on sisterhood and we had a simple rule: No B & B. No boys and no booze.

These brief periods were very brief - a week tops - and most of us had no trouble abiding, though some did find the rules quite restraining and would still drink and spend the nights with their boyfriends.

Right now, I feel like I'm living in an extended state of No B & B and, as usual, I'm having no trouble with it. Sure, having drinks is fun, but that didn't stop me from having fun without drinks. And sure boys are nice, but they aren't necessary. At least not for a girl who isn't attempting to create children.

Friday my roommate and I were finally feeling better. I spent that evening hanging out with my friend and neighbor Miss M along with a few other people. It was a super mellow night, the perfect way to spend an evening having just gotten over the Piglet Cold.

Saturday I helped set up for another breast cancer awareness event and fundraiser. I then went to my upstairs neighbors' apartment for a potluck they hosted with Coconut Bliss ice cream - the chocolate hazelnut was the best I tried. Of two flavors. After that Miss A and I headed to the fundraiser where we had a lovely time and where I won a flightseeing tour in the silent auction!

Post events, it was bar time. At first I wasn't sure if I'd be up to it, since bars without booze can be unpleasant but I headed out with the ladies and we had a great time dancing at the Rendezvous and the Imperial and listening to live music at the Alaskan before heading to the Bergmann for a nice wind-down.

Sunday was nice because Miss A made dinner and Meg and Travis played some acoustic sets at the bar.

Now it's back to work as usual!

Quarantine

2009-11-05T19:53:00.000-08:00

My roommate and I are both sick. We have barely left the house the past two days. We've even taken to ordering in food. Thanks to emergencies and poor timing, we were stuck with Domino's both nights. We're pitiful.

On the Wagon

2009-11-03T11:22:00.000-08:00

I am what would probably be considered a high functioning alcoholic. Not flattering, I know. I prefer the term "lush" but in all honesty, I drink 3 to 5 days a week and anywhere from one to several drinks a night. I still go to work everyday and on time, I still manage to plan art shows, be a part of clubs, be a good friend, pay my bills, etc.

It's not an addiction, so much as a habit - I don't NEED IT, I just have managed to spend most of my nights in the past few years in bars with drinks in hand with my friends. Half my friends are bartenders or servers, most of my friends I've actually be through my evenings spent in bars. They say this is a small drinking town with a big fishing problem.

Now, I am not giving up drinking forever and I'm not giving up drinking because I am concerned for my well being. I am giving up drinking from now until the holidays for some very specific reasons.

1. I can avoid some of the drama that's been going down if I'm not out drinking all the time. No, it's not really even my own drama, though I am somehow in the middle of it.

2. My tolerance will go down, so I'll be a cheap date again come Christmas.

3. I'll be saving money, lots of money, by not spending money on alcohol between now and the holidays. This means I'll have plenty of money for other things, like my trip to Mexico.

A side effect of this not drinking thing? I made two hats yesterday. In the evening. At the bars. I've taken my crocheting with me to give me something to do, since being drunk isn't an option. I'm going to the yarn store today, I'm making one for Mr. Pilot and one for Mr. CP and more for birthdays and Christmas to come. That's right, if you were hoping for a surprise this holiday season, forget about it - you are getting a hat. Maybe a scarf if you are really lucky.

Heaven-o-ween

2009-10-30T17:20:00.000-07:00

OK, aside from having to work on my FAVORITE holiday, this weekend (starting with Thursday, though I still had to work through today) has been and will continue to be HEAVENLY.

Thursday was SPA DAY and involved waxing, a facial, jacuzzi, and a massage. Nothing to complain about there!

After the spa business I attempted to hold an alt art meeting, but thanks to illness and other obstacles, Miss B and I were the only ones to show. Luckily, my explanation of the issue with the JRE properties (they don't already insure their buildings or something?) piqued the attention of someone who may have a space to offer. Cross your fingers.

Then there was my first ever Costume Creation and Prep Party and it turned out really well! Miss A, Miss E, Mr. L, and Mr. R came to work on costumes, other people decided it would be a good idea to work on costumes, and still more people were just hanging around for all the fun.

All the fun being: Chippendales?

My friends are dressing as Patrick Swayze and Chris Farley from the SNL skit where both men are trying out for Chippendales. Here's the result of a bit of time and effort, some painting, some sewing, some cutting, some velcro...

So, tonight I have Mr. J's birthday, a housewarming and going away party at Miss L's new place, plus music at the 'Vous and tomorrow is real Halloween, which I'll be spending behind a bar, but people have been promising to come by and visit. Then Sunday is Miss A's birthday so I will be wearing purple and supporting the Vikings while enjoying a barbecue and maybe some bloody Marys after a long night. Hip hip hooray!

What the Future Holds

2009-10-28T20:05:00.000-07:00

I got my PFD - that's right, FREE MONEY. Well, sort of. We all pay for it in the sense that it's from the rape and plunder of this fair land, but I figured I would use my ~~blood~~ oil money to get the hell out of this place for a little while.

In January I am packing up.

I found out that the campaign might not be quite over, but a booked ticket is a booked ticket, so here's the plan.

New Year's Day I fly to Redmond/Bend, Oregon where I hang out for a week while my sister pops out my nephew. I will see family and get to hold a lovely baby boy. Awesome.

On January 7th, I head to MEXICO for TWO WEEKS to hang out with my friend Miss J, whom I haven't seen since I went to Wula back in 2008. I'll be hanging out in Mexico City for much of it, which I think still counts as the largest city in the world. I can go to museums and pyramids and all kinds of fun stuff. Then we'll head out to someplace like Acapulco or other beaches on the weekends. I just bought a swimsuit today, it's retro.

But before then, I have a lot going! I am getting ready for HALLOWEEN! It's my favorite holiday, though this year I'll sadly be stuck working on the actual day. Oh well. I may have to plan some sort of prize to get people up there at some point, otherwise it'll be me dressed as Ebi Nigiri all by myself. I'll probably drown my sorrows in Sake. Or maybe plum wine.

Also making some progress on the Alt Art show. Mr. M came up with some logos and I called about a space. I think I messed up which street it was on a dozen times. It's on Franklin, not Seward. Oh well. With any luck, we'll have it figured out within the next few days. Maybe even tomorrow. Once we have the logo and other stuff, we can send out a call for submissions and start picking through the things we'll want for the show. Yessss.

Oh, and tomorrow is spa day! I'm going to pamper myself so much. It's going to be glorious.

Professional Relationships

2009-10-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

I think that it is a sign that a professional relationship is not all that professional when you look at your phone and realize that you've texted your boss at a half hour to bar close with the following:

"What up, slut. I'm at the Bergmann with [Miss A]. Where the fuck are you?"

It's especially HILARIOUS if you know that the boss is a 35 year old man.

How does a night deteriorate to this level?

It starts with white wine and a salad for dinner (should have included some carbs), then it includes champagne and lots of vodka.

Other highlights? I told the Mexican guy who works at the hotel that I would pay him to make me tamales. I did the chicken dance. I bet there are more. I just don't remember them.

Prank Calls

2009-10-23T19:03:00.000-07:00

In a fit of ADD, I decided to watch the "Bunny Shorts" and ended up seeing their recap of The Ring. I watched it when I was either a senior in high school or a freshman in college. I was at home in Redmond at my parents' house and had stayed up late with my sister and her best friend. After we had watched the whole movie I thought it would be absolutely hilarious if the phone rang and my sister and Miss K got scared. Luckily, I had a cell phone. I managed to dial the house phone from the couch and I waited for it to ring.

Waited.

Well, something obviously went wrong.

I ended the call and dialed again.

And waited.

I think I must have tried it three times. Finally, I gave up. I don't know what was wrong with the stupid phone, but it wasn't ringing and the time period during which it would be funny had passed.

The next morning my mom complained to my sister that the phone had been in her bedroom all night and that her stupid friends were prank calling the house.

I never corrected her.

Cozy Little Life

2009-10-20T00:01:00.000-07:00

My BFF Miss N, who lives in Portland, has a cozy little life. She and her darling husband Mr. A and the adorable kitty Yuki have a nice little place, zero drama, and of course they are head over heels in love, even after the honeymoon phase has undoubtedly ended.

I, on the other hand, just completed a quasi-bender. It doesn't quite count because I was only in true "bender mode" for one night, but I did consume alcohol and I did stay up until obscenely late hours for about five days. This included an extra two hours of weekend thanks to Alaska day, some late night dance parties with Miss A, and plenty of Wii bowling. I know, that sounds totally rock 'n' roll.

Tonight I am refreshed to be curled up on the ghetto couch watching Netflix on demand. As suggested by a friend from high school, I am watching Californication. Part of me doesn't want to admit to it, but I have to say that there is something about the show that I really do like. Maybe it is that the main character is a pretentious douchebag, just as I can be (thank Mr. M for my "snooty bitch" title), that it's sort of raw, or maybe it is that it does a pretty good job of portraying relationships. I know, I know. It's a Showtime Original, not a literary masterpiece. Just gonna say that I nearly teared up when David Duchovny's on-screen daughter gave him the speech about being consistently let down and basically told him to fuck off.

If you have read regularly and long enough, you might know that I spent Christmas of last year with my own biological father, step mother, grandmother, and three half siblings, one of which, a seven year old brother, I had never met. So, when I was 11 or 12 I, without actually saying "fuck off," told my dad the same thing. When I was 13 years old, I was hundreds of miles away in another state and continued to say the same thing, with more fervor. Aside from my high school graduation I didn't see him for approximately ten years. So cute little emo 12 year old reminds me of my side of the story, but I really wanted to shed a tear for David Duchovny because, well, he's pretty fucked up, but he obviously loves his daughter. I wanted to tell the little 12 year old character, "If you turn your back now, you'll never have a real relationship with your dad, it'll never recover!" Is it for the best? Is it for the worst? Is it a wash in the end? Because, let's face it, what real tie is there between a father and child after conception? And a mother and child after birth? It's all relationship. Love isn't in the DNA.

Oh, hey, got a little deep there. Watching Showtime Originals, eating chocolate, getting sappy - this probably means that next week is going to be lame.

To add a little levity to the end of Alaska Day (observed) I leave you with some good news and a little Alaska Day pub crawl anecdote:

I have found a wonderful new roommate, so my money woes mentioned in the last post are somewhat lessened. Hooray, good news!

And after a ridiculously fun weekend playing Apples to Apples with new friends, including a lifetime bartender in her early 50's who could make a sailor blush, I locked the doors and closed up shop. Fellow friend and bartender, who shall remain unnamed and unnicknamed, staggered down the steps and lurched to the bar, I looked to see if there was anything I could do but after touching down for a moment he grabbed his phone and walked to the back. I watched El Drunko stagger back past the entry, back past the bathroom, back into the back room. I mentioned the mysterious destination but didn't think much of it, as the man can generally hold his liquor.

After I finished closing, after we played a late night game of Wii bowling in which I kicked everyone's ass, El Patron went to check on El Drunko, who was not in the bathroom (which, I guess I knew) but, rather, passed out on a table in the very back. He was stirred to wakefulness and guided to El Patron's guest room, where he went to sleep. I did some more cleanup once I had the bar to myself again and then gathered my things. Except my phone. Where was my phone? I searched the bar, the tables, the floors, I emptied my purse and backpack. It was nowhere. Then it hit me. El Drunko grabbed "his" phone from the bar. My phone was on the bar. He must have grabbed my phone. So I went to El Patron's house and asked where El Drunko was. Upstairs, passed out, guest room.

If he reads this, he might feel violated, so let's hope he doesn't. I went upstairs and into the room. He was passed out and snoring. I tried to coax him to a lucid state with words, then gentle prodding, then with louder words and less gentle prodding. Then I sucked it up and decided that I would reach into those pants pockets if I had to, damn it. So I lifted up the covers to discover he had removed his pants, but thank Hanes for underwear, I didn't see a thing. I found the pants on the floor and searched the pockets. Nothing. Well, not my phone at least. There was some cash, but I'm an honest woman, there was still cash when I gave up the search.

In a last ditch effort, I borrowed Miss A's phone and returned to the scene of the crimes, all the crimes, and I called my phone. Once. Twice. Then, another epiphany, I went to the back room and like a fuckin' private eye, I found the phone where El Drunko had apparently passed out. Finally, at almost five in the morning, I could go home and go to sleep. Happy Alaska Day.

Money, Money, Money, Money

2009-10-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

I don't have much money. If you want to get technical, I have negative money. I have approximately $28 in my bank account, $18 in my pocket, $8 in quarters for laundry, and about $20k in debt.

I'm one month from having paid off one full credit card, that leaves three more credit cards. Brilliant, I know. Those probably add up to less than $5k in debt though - the real debt is in the student loans. I would ignore them completely if they would just quit calling me.

So, when money is tight, when you've got $50 to your name, when payday is still a week away, creativity is in order.

Let's talk about how I'm frugal. And how I'm not.

I bought a TV. I miss watching movies in a screen that is more than 10.1 in diagonally. This baby is 19 inches diagonally. That 8 inches more is going to make a huge difference. After spending all that money on a TV, I decided I would do the responsible and frugal thing - I posted that I wanted a DVD player on Freecycle.org. I got one. But I didn't get the cords that connect it to the TV, so I'm still staring at a blank screen.

Today I only bought fresh healthy foods to make a soup for dinner, kind of like I did last time I went to the grocery store. Only last time I was too lazy to make the soup so the mushrooms completely dried out. I thought that I had just dehydrated them and that maybe I could salvage the crimini mushrooms by soaking them in water. But they were sort of funny colored and I was uncertain so they got tossed anyway. I should probably start composting. Another annoying thing at the grocery store - my card didn't work - was my online banking lying about that available $28? I had to put the stupidly expensive razor and a thing of flour back. When the woman took the flour back it broke, I really wanted to ask if I could just have it for free since they probably had to throw it out anyway. But I have too much dignity for my own good.

I bought a dress I don't really need and two pairs of shoes this month. Completely unnecessary. But I haven't gone out drinking nearly as much, which probably makes up for it. I also bought slip covers for my couches, because they are gross looking, which is probably cheaper than buying new shitty couches for my ghetto apartment.

Let's be honest, I'm still incredibly irresponsible and bringing in $2000 a month is rough on a girl who has to pay bills and also have a happy social life.

Anyone out there want to be my sugar daddy?

Holiday

2009-10-12T23:26:00.000-07:00

I'd like to thank the federal government for providing me with a paid holiday, but I am definitely not in the camp that approves of Columbus Day. I live in a community with a fairly large Native Alaskan population, I can see everyday that I started with an advantage from way back at the starting line, hundreds of years ago. I won't get into it, but I hope you take some time to reflect on the history of genocide and marginalization.

In lighter news, I had a fairly wild weekend with some late nights, some drinking, some Scrabble, some Apples to Apples, some Discovery Channel specials, and some Trivia. If it sounds geeky, that's because it was. Some of the time. I'm pretty confident that the new guy at the bar is trained well enough that he can handle the bar on his own - which he's doing as I type this - and I am looking forward to not working until the actual day I am scheduled to work next weekend.

The best news is that I checked on my PFD status and I have been deemed eligible to receive $1305 for allowing oil companies to rape and pillage my adopted home. It'll probably just go toward paying bills and rent.

I've also chosen a Halloween costume and am again excited for my favorite holiday - it's first place because of my love of wearing costumes. Second place is New Year's Eve - based on my love of wearing fancy dresses and drinking champagne and making bad decisions.

Like Watching Paint Dry

2009-10-08T14:58:00.000-07:00

Someone's been boring lately and that someone is me.

After the 24 Comics event I slept, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked, and slept, and worked.

Not terribly exciting. I'd like to recommend you find some paint to watch dry.

Only things of interest:

I've committed to co-MC a breast cancer fundraiser - I just bought a pink taffeta dress and sparkly shoes for the occasion.
I've got another meeting to talk about the alternative art show this evening, not sure what kind of progress to be made, but perhaps we can hand out some assignments - time is limited.
My plants are still alive.
I ordered slip covers for the couches and a TV for the living room.
I watched the entire 5th season of Desperate Housewives.

I really need to get a life.

Sleep Deprivation Fest 2009

2009-10-04T09:30:00.000-07:00

The 24 Hour Comics challenge was a success.

Five of us participated. Four of us stayed on to the point of delirium. Three of us finished our comics. One of us reached 24 pages. One of us reached 24 hours.

Curious where I stand? I reached 24 hours but only made it to 12 pages and I am not one of the three who finished.

But, the two of us who didn't finish have started projects we will undoubtedly finish, projects which will look soooooo good.

Here's a basic overview of the night - I updated a bit via Twitter, but tried to stay pretty focused on actually working on the comic.

7:45 pm - Arrive at JACC, attempt entry at wrong door, knock and knock, receive help, note that other entrance is unlocked.

8:00pm - Begin challenge, doodling and brainstorming.

8:15pm - Participate in some warm up exercises with fellow comic-ers Mr. M and Mr. D.

10:00pm - About 2 hours in with one page done, seems less than productive but one of the warm up exercises actually inspired the main character.

12:00am - 4 hours in, starting to contemplate the vastness of completing 24 pages in 24 hours, still hopeful.

2:00am - Boys start getting tired, caffeine consumption within group increases.

5:00am - My body starts reminding me that it likes to sleep sometimes, caffeine consumption increases.

8:00am - Mr. P should be finished with play, should be back for drawing. The lack of sleep is starting to get to me, a small breakfast alleviates some symptoms.

9:30am - So tired, must stay alert, hands shaking for some extra wobbly lines with the ink and brush, doing laps around room.

11:30am - Still exhausted and shaky, doing jumping jacks in ladies' room because it seems like an excellent way to wake up without jiggling in front of other people.

12:00pm - Lunch is served, by this point my body is realizing that the Friday-Saturday sleep cycle has been ignored, is non-existent, growing more alert.

2:00pm - Boys start getting delirious, Mr. P and I somewhat amused. High school boys don't need drugs, just sleep deprivation. At least for our purposes.

3:00pm - Only five hours remaining, boys delirious, competitive, drawing nonsense. Situation dire - I'm not making the progress necessary to complete 24 pages in 24 hours. Mr. P has decided to switch to smaller pages.

4:00pm - Mr. M has fallen asleep at table, Mr. D is pacing nervously, contemplating going home, 24 hour plays practicing at stage - too much muppet sound.

5:00pm - Boys have decided to finish, bound and determined. Working on ending in less than 24 pages.

6:00pm - Boys finished with comics, Mr. P starts worrying he might not finish, realizes there are 2 hours left, not just one, breathes sigh of relief. I've decided a rush would only ruin a really good thing. Tortoise-ing along.

7:00pm - Mr. P finishes, boys finished, Mr. OP and I continue working, pens and brushes dancing gracefully across white paper.

8:00pm - Time's up! Plays to start, displaying finished and unfinished comics for viewing.

Here are some photos:

I'll probably post images to Glitter Shrapnel at some point, possibly self publish.

Four and Twenty Hours.

2009-10-02T19:59:00.000-07:00

In approximately one hour I will be joining some fellow artists at the Juneau Arts and Culture Center to take part of something glorious(ly geeky): 24 Hour Comics. It'll be coinciding with the 24 Hour Miracle, which is, I suppose gloriously... freaky. It's a play that is written, cast, rehearsed, and performed in the 24 hour window.

I've never taken part in a 24 hour comic event before and I am excited and also a little nervous. For one thing, I haven't even finished the next panel in JSMG which is nearly done - all that's left to do is color, I believe. I just couldn't get into it for the past few weeks. I think I'll have to make myself do it on Sunday so I will only have missed TWO WHOLE WEEKS and not three. Oops. I'm also nervous because I haven't quite come up with an idea yet. And maybe that's the way it's meant to be, maybe thinking about it in advance is cheating. And I am using traditional media, not digital, and the last time I did something like this I spent a whole semester on it.

Whatever. I'm going to do it, guys. I am going to make a 24 page comic in 24 hours. And it's gonna be AWESOME. Wish me luck. I took a nap this afternoon in preparation. I'm ready!

Growing up is contagious.

2009-09-29T15:50:00.000-07:00

For some 24 seems old, for others, for me, 24 seems young, but it also feels a bit like a transitional time between young and old. It's sort of creeping me out.

My younger sister just got married and will be having a baby, her husband is great and they will undoubtedly have an adorable baby, probably a little ginger. I could probably cover an entire wall with save-the-dates and invitations and engagement photos, though. It's not just my sister, it's a lot of my friends, too. Many of them are doing such grown up activities as marrying and birthing babies and buying houses.

My rational side is adamant about 24 being young and avoiding grown up activities, after all, I still drink 'til I puke sometimes (always by accident). But my uterus was aflutter when I felt little baby J kicking from inside my sister's rotund belly. No, I'm not gonna have a baby, the rational side can totally take my uterus in a fight. One of my new sisters-in-law showed off the engagement ring she'd want were some handsome gent to propose to her and in the secret of my own home a week later, I perused the Tiffany's website and ooh-ed and ah-ed over the diamond engagement rings. My rational side can also beat my romantic side in a fight.

There's one thing I might have a hard time fighting and that is making a comfortable home, sure I hate cleaning and I put it off until a haz-mat suit might be necessary, but I can't help but cruise Craigslist for reasonably priced furniture and I am just dreaming of the day when I stumble upon a butcher block floating island for my counter-space-challenged kitchen. Even though there is a part of me aching to get out of this small town, I have certain things keeping me here, including an absolute love of this stupid town, but still, what if I move? What if I do it - go to law school - then I have to deal with getting rid of all this STUFF.

Who should win this battle? The rational minimalist? The cozy-seeking nester? I don't know. Life would be made a lot easier if Mr. CP would move back and UAS would open a law school. Can't everything come to me?

Juneau should be renamed Flaketown

2009-09-24T17:06:00.000-07:00

Remember when I was going nuts because Miss J gave me notice that she was moving out? Then I was relieved when Mr. L said he'd move in. But then Mr. L decided after less than a full month to move in with his girlfriend (who is offering cheaper rent and sex). Then I was again relieved when a friend said she could move in in October.

Just kidding! I just found out today that my future roommate plans have fallen through, so I am again faced with the tough job of finding someone who is looking for a roommate, isn't insane (or anal) and who has no pets. It's all getting to be so frustrating.

I can manage for the next few months if I budget well and I know that Miss D said she'd be interested in moving in during session, so just when I'll probably be out of a job, I'll have someone to help cover the rent. Lucky me.

Getting angry or frustrated doesn't make any of it better, getting upset with friends doesn't help either. I'm going to do what I always do and forgive and forget, just let it all roll off my back - ducky style. You know, how water rolls off a duck's feathers. I am pretty sure that is what that phrase comes from.

In any case, I am not going to stress on finding a roommate right now, I am just going to live frugally and enjoy the freedom of living completely alone until a roommate comes to me.

I don't know what the deal is, even I am becoming flaky. Juneau, what are you putting in the water?

Da Bears

2009-09-23T17:40:00.000-07:00

Bear sightings have been few and far between this summer but perhaps quantity is less important than quality.

If the quality of a bear siting is determined by how close it is and how much it makes you shake, than I've had some quality sightings this summer, having nearly walked right into one, and coming almost as close to another.

After spending the morning in the office I stopped by the hippie grocery store on the way home. I picked out a bunch of things and once I had purchased the items I stuffed them into my purse. Except it got full so I carried another bag. It was a paper bag. And I live in a rain forest.

I was nearly home when I saw a medium sized black bear climb into the dumpster for the building I was passing. It managed to bend the lid up and squeeze in, head first, then it rummaged around, I considered running past while it was inside, but it seemed risky. Instead I waited and watched the bear climb back out with something in its mouth. Then I watched as the bear settled next to someone's car and gnawed on trash for a bit.

I advised a man to the location of the bear and he suggested I go around. I had been contemplating this possibility and eventually gave in, when the bear showed no sign of losing interest in the slice of bread it was devouring.

As I was walking down a windy side street, I suddenly felt the bag tear and oats started spilling out onto the pavement. Precious organic oats. For precious oatmeal cookies. I had to hug the bag the rest of the way home as I contemplated how representative a moment like this is of my life.

Walking. In the rain. Organic groceries. Falling. Traffic detour due to black bear. Home safe. finding humor in it all.

I tried to be the black bear paparazzi while juggling the groceries and my blackberry, then again once I had put the groceries away. It's nearly impossible to take a good photo with full hands and while shaking from nerves.

I'll mention again that bears are deceptively cute. You just want to hug the little bastards. Then they claw your face off.

The Kitten Flu, Love, and Other Diseases

2009-09-21T08:12:00.000-07:00

I'm sitting in darling Miss NB's cozy little apartment with the darling kitty, Yuki. Yuki has got a cold. I am hoping that this little virus will not jump from kitten to human, but how cute does the kitten flu sound? So cute. Way better than swine flu. "Oh, you know, I got the kitten flu, 'cause I was just surrounded in cute fuzzy kittens, not it's not deadly, thankfully." Poor little Yuki though, she can't blow her nose into a tissue or something to relieve her congestion.

This weekend has been all about: Love.

My younger sister just got married and as worried as I may have been, I absolutely adore the entire family she has married into. They are the sweetest family ever. Despite a full septic tank that sometimes provided a raw sewage smell, despite the rain falling until 30 minutes after the wedding was meant to start (we started an hour late) the wedding was sunny and beautiful. Sister jumped the gun with her 'I will' but only because she really is excited to spend the rest of her life with her new husband. Lucky the dog, who is 91 years old in dog time, decided to pee during the lighting of the unity candle, but over all the ceremony was perfect.

The reception was lovely too, with plenty of beer and wine to go around, champagne for toasting, a delicious dinner prepared by the families and lots of dancing. Oh, and I gave a toast. My short but sweet toast which probably infringes on some Disney copyrights was a hit and my counterpart, the very handsome best man, had a long winded but very heartfelt speech (about 10 times as long as mine). Aside from some uninvited guests: Sister's former hippie roommate, a guy who went to my college for one year and his friend; and some missing folks: friends from high school who had been threatened with revoked friendship should they not attend, it was a great group.

It was great to see my family, especially my little sisters, I got to feel my little nephew kick, and even though there was never a resolution to the car theft, my parents and I did a great job pretending absolutely nothing was wrong. And you know, I can just put it out of my mind.

So, if you were wondering what fell into the category "other" it might be shopoholism. Or my love for a Michael Kors black mini dress with sequins. Or a freakish curiosity to know what it feels like to have something living inside you (baby envy?) but not any time soon. Or a case of melancholy, missing the person that I still adore.

Or maybe it is straight up alcoholism because I drank quite a bit of white wine and champagne and apparently got tired before the party even ended - finding my way to Bro-in-law's parents' bed and falling asleep. I got kicked out, of course, and was then led to a couch where I slept through a ton of noise, apparently.

Now I have less than 12 hours left in Portland - I suppose I should go enjoy it!

It's Like Rai-i-ain...

2009-09-16T20:07:00.000-07:00

Personally, I live in a rainforest. The big, wet, wild Tongass National Forest. It is a temperate rainforest so there are no three-toed sloths or giant man-eating plants, no monkeys throwing fruit or feces. It's kind of like a normal forest but extra wet. Portland weather is NOTHING to Juneau weather.

Still, on my sister's big day* there is a 40% chance of rain. You wouldn't think it ominous except that the Thursday and Friday show temperatures in the mid 70's to mid 80's, partly cloudy. Sunday too. Only Saturday calls for showers.

Two reasons why this is significant:

1. The wedding is outdoors. On grass. How fun will it be for us to get stuck in muddy grass on our way to the alter? And hopefully her white dress doesn't have a long train. I just hope they have tents, just in case.

2. Alanis Morisette says rain on your wedding day is: ironic. Proving, of course, that most people misuse the word ironic. In any case, if Alanis Morisette thinks that rain on your wedding day is sucky enough to sing a song about, it must suck.

As the maid of honor, I've prepared a speech. It's, um, probably a copyright issue with Disney and possibly only funny to people with a similar sense of humor to my own - fine for my family, I hope. Unless I've used big words and everyone just calls me pretentious. Of the people I've shared the speech with (two) they have just about 6 or 7 degrees between the two of them. Maybe I chose the wrong test audience. I got decent reviews.

*This is my sister's big day because she has a vagina. The big day for someone with a penis is losing his virginity or something.

Commitment

2009-09-16T11:52:00.000-07:00

It was discussed that a lot of people in this town are kind of flaky, it was suggested that it's because there are so many creative minds and people are constantly developing new and exciting ideas and that these creative types are more likely to let themselves get carried away, leaving plans behind them. It might also be that a lot of people smoke a lot of pot. But since I've been getting kind of flaky sometimes, I think it is more likely that we're all creative types, dreamers.

I'm not generally a flaky person, despite being a dreamer and creative mind - that could actually be a problem. To how many things have I committed myself?

Job #1

Job #2

NOW

Rotaract

Comics Connection

Creating a weekly webcomic

Drabble

Having a life

Keeping in touch with friends and family

Cleaning my kitchen - someday

And now this:

I have a brain child and I am going to bring it to term, give birth to it, and raise it to adulthood. I will not abort this brain child (but I am pro-choice!), nor will I put it up for adoption, neglect it during it's formative stages, or treat it like a red headed stepchild (I am one of those). I'm really excited and am officially the founder of Alt Art Juneau - an alternative art fair that will coincide with the First Friday Gallery Walk.

There is a lot of work to do on this to do it right, that includes fancy things like exploration committees and panels and publicity committees and lions and tigers and bears, oh my.

I'm going to do this, I am going to succeed, and I am determined that this will be an awesome event for artists who creat comics, tattoos, street art, etc.

P.S. I might be a fucking hipster.

2009-09-14T19:44:00.000-07:00

A friend of mine from high school and I declared that we would definitely get out of our home town or else we'd end up dead. We had something like 11 classmates die during our years in high school and the year just before or just after. Turns out we probably wouldn't end up dead. We'd end up Republican. Maybe also poor at spelling. And we might also have become the type of white girls to say things like "true dat" with out a speck of irony.

Anticipation

2009-09-13T18:57:00.000-07:00

So, anticipation can be... unpleasant. There is anticipation of good things and then there is anticipation of bad things. This uneasy feeling definitely falls int he latter category.

I just feel myself getting behind and as the to-do-list grows, my time remains finite. It's frustrating. I made a list, hand-written, the other day hoping to lay it out and prioritize, but I don't feel any better yet.

This weekend I did pretty much nothing. I stayed in on Friday night to paint. Then I painted over the entire thing. I need to make a painting for my sister and her fiancee, since I can't give them the car as I had hoped to do. I think that my need for inspiration is making inspiration hide in some inconspicuous corner under a pile of pressing to-do-list items and a desire to sleep and sleep and sleep.

Last night I worked and it was a quiet night, made fun by the few people who did come to the bar. I would say that over half the groups who came in offered to buy or did buy me a drink or more. Maybe I looked like I needed it. It didn't help me to be more productive today, as I had hoped. The most productive thing I did all day is a tie between showering and heating up canned, condensed soup. Wow, hygiene and feeding myself. I'm a winner.

Meanwhile, the to-do-list gathers dust and my fear of being overwhelmed is, well, overwhelming. I think that might be counter-productive.

Luckily, little things here and there make bright patches in my days.

What a waste!

2009-09-10T23:42:00.000-07:00

Today I:

Showered, straightened my hair, did my makeup, picked out a cute outfit fit for going out and being seen.

I went to the bank.

I went to the senate office.

Then I went home.

I'm still at home.

What a waste.

In good news, I have found a new future roommate to replace Mr. L. He's moving in with his girlfriend where the rent is cheaper and he'll be getting sex. My friend Miss N announced on facebook that she needed a place to live within 24 hours of me announcing I needed a new roommate.

I think it's going to work out well. We're both laidback, fun twenty-somethings with a hipster vibe and a lot of creativity. I foresee art projects and music and gatherings of friends.

Right now I'm going to work on my comic, though I think I might change the day that I update. Maybe to Mondays, like all the other one day a week comics. Sure, I might get lost in the shuffle, but maybe I won't.

Ten Reasons I Won't Get Married

2009-09-10T04:31:00.000-07:00

10. I just don't look that good in white. Or even cream. 'Cause let's face it, I won't be wearing white.

9. What if I'm wrong? Marriage is the first step to divorce, after all. And divorce, that's a spendy affair.

8. Of a biological father and a stepdad, with neither of whom I have a close relationship, who would I choose to walk me down the aisle?

7. I've had to wear bridesmaid's dresses - I don't want to do that to my friends.

6. I don't believe in God anyway, why do I need to have some religious leader marry me and the person I love?

5. Nobody wants to sit through the ceremony anyway, even if I had the most clever vows, people would still be fidgeting and waiting for the open bar.

4. My mom and dad got divorced, my grandparents got divorced, and not everyone is even all that happy in their new situation - it might be hereditary.

3. Weddings are expensive, I am pretty sure it isn't necessary to spend thousands of dollars to declare one's love. I can think of three little words that do it quite efficiently.

2. And do I really want to support the diamond industry? What a scam!

1. Marriage is a stupid institution which discriminates not based on love, but on matters like WHO someone loves. Why should I support that?

In My Bestselling Tell All Novel

2009-09-09T16:02:00.000-07:00

Someday I'm going to write stupid pop lit novels like Chelsea Handler. I think I'm slightly less drunk and slightly less promiscuous, but what I lack in those areas my family makes up for.

Oh yes, the saga continues. Via e-mail.

My mom told me that my sister is trying to work things out with HER car, but that's going to prove to be bad news. My sister is having a baby and her current job is as a barista. Having that car would include continuing to pay if off - my parents are making her refinance in her name - and since my sister is (a) poor, (b) going to be poorer and (c) has terrible credit this is going to be costly. And/or they are requiring that she insure the car in her name under her own plan which will apparently cost $250 a month since my sister is (a) under the age of 25, (b) a driver with at least two accidents on her record, and (c) a driver with a DUII on her record.

My parents are helping to pay for the wedding, but then saying "FUCK YOU" to their second oldest daughter and almost ensuring that my sister will end up getting behind sooner or later. At no loss of money to them and at a complete gain in security for my sister, this car could be hers. But my mom, who called me petty for bringing up the issue of MY liability should my younger sister get in a wreck driving a car under my name, then preceded to list all of the things she should have charged me for.

Thanks, mom, I hope the value of the car was enough to make up for you having to raise me.

But, you know, it's ok. I have wonderful friends.

Last night there was a good show of good friends who made sure that I always had a drink in my hand and made sure the night was lively. We had drinks and appetizers at the Hangar and later Miss A, Mr. C and I went to Troxel's for some late night grub and then they dropped me back at the Alaskan where I had another drink. And then Miss K and I hit up the Rendezvous for one last shot before I headed back up the hill to sleep it all off.

The Burden of Being Born

2009-09-08T19:15:00.000-07:00

Happy motha' effin' birthday to me.

Today is my actual birthday, in which I turn 24 years old.

I have had the pleasure of receiving a billion facebook messages, countless text messages, and some friendly phone calls.

I received a print from Mr. CP and a book - received in the mail a few days early. And the owners of Choco's gave me a cocktail ring I had been admiring.

This evening I'll be with friends having drinks and appetizers.

But just now I had a conversation with my mom which turned ugly. I told my mom that I was giving my car to my sister for her wedding present and I mentioned that my other sister who just turned 16 had said she was driving it, so I was questioning that since I already promised it to my other sister... Logical stuff, you know. Then I told my mom it would be kind of a problem if they gave away a car I had already given away and my mom said, "Well, we already did."

My parents gave away MY FUCKING CAR.

Without my permission. Without even mentioning it to me. So now the one thing I could do for my sister's wedding, for my sister who is having a baby, they've taken it away. And my mom didn't want to have the discussion with me, but I forced it, and she basically started talking about how she had helped me pay my bills when I was in college.

Great. So it turns out that the basic duties of being a supportive parent of a kid in college don't come for free. Or cheap. I've been such a burden that it warrants taking my car and giving it away to my younger sister.

I'm pretty possed right now. I wish I hadn't even talked to my mom at all today. I wish I didn't have to see my parents at all at my sister's wedding.

I wish none of this were happening and I wish my family weren't so fucked up.

Hopefully drinks and cake will make this all better.

A-listing

2009-09-06T18:08:00.000-07:00

Saturday night included yet another excuse to dress up. General Juneau attire includes the ugly brown neoprene boots with jeans and, most likely, an Alaskan Brewing sweatshirt or some sort of performance fleece. Or a rain jacket. But Saturday night Mrs. D & Mr. M had their 4th anniversary party and as classy people, they requested that everyone dress to the nines.

First I went to dinner with Miss M and Miss C at the Hangar where we were lucky enough to be given a free appetizer from some of the staff - thanks, Ladies! We had some drinks and shared appetizers and had a generally lovely (and filling) evening. We then went to the super secret location for the invite only Anniversary party and drank cocktails with people dressed in cocktail dresses, suits, evening gowns, etc.

Then we went to the Viking. Miss M had said she thought this was the last weekend Deering and Down would be playing and I do love to support those two. Usually the Viking is the last place I would ever head (though somehow it had ranked above the Lucky Lady before) but for the sake of the music, I went. Now, the problem I have with the viking, mainly, is that I can't recall a time I've been that I haven't been hit on and even groped. This night was no different, including a thoroughly uncalled for ass slap, another grope in passing, and one old sketchy guy who had been watching us dance did the "accidental" ass graze. He also tried to tell me later that he liked my dancing. Or something. Gross. Around 2, after maybe an hour and a half there, total, we went to find Miss C, who was not where I had anticipated. We ended up at the Alaskan, which is where I figured out that gin makes me sassy.

First thing, former flame was accusing me of something in a rather belligerent manner (this isn't a first) and I stood up for myself and told him that I didn't want to argue with him and then went back to spend time with my girlfriends. I also pointed out at one point in the night that I didn't like his "tone" just like my mom used to say. But the real sassiness came out when some dumb hick bummed a cigarette from Mr. P and then proceeded to make fun of his hair. I don't know about you, but I am pretty sure that you don't disrespect someone who has just done you a favor. I called it, though. He was a dumb hick and even a little tipsy I have enough wit to run circles around guys like this. I managed to make mad fun of him right there until he stumbled off the curb to go to (most likely) the Viking or the Imperial, or to go shoot something.

Then Miss N and I headed to an after party, where we stayed only briefly because we (a) weren't drunk enough and (b) weren't any good at speaking Spanish.

Overall it was an interesting night and I, admittedly, looked damn good. I guess I can't blame the grabby guys. Wait. Yes I can. Pervs.

And today was craft brunch! I made some savory scone egg sandwiches, which were delish. I think the best recipe I discovered was one that was a basic scone recipe with pointers on changes to make when adding additional ingredients. I like the versatility of it and, when I added garlic and herbs de provence, the scones turned out great. I think it might be best for someone with a sense of what they are doing, since it is a little more open ended than many baking recipes, but I am happy with it. Here it is.

Now I am working at the bar and I've just been informed by one of the owners of the Rendezvous that the male strippers are staying upstairs in the hotel and that, well, I may have strippers in the bar again. Hopefully this time all the clothing will stay on.

Diving Lessons

2009-09-05T17:24:00.000-07:00

I remember when I was younger I heard talk of "dives" or "dive bars" and I was confused and curious. What is a "dive?"

Since turning 21, or even during the month before the birthday when friends and I managed to crash a truck stop bar on I-5 outside of Eugene, Oregon, I have gained vast amounts of experience with so called dives, even tending bar at a dive or two.

Still, even in terms of dives, I had my standards, damn it. Until yesterday.

Girls' night started out as classy as can be. We all primped and had dinner at the Gold Room at the Baranof where we were certainly a bit uncouth, but our server was happy to tolerate our antics, especially when those antics included trying to touch our elbows together behind our backs. It's along the same lines as that creepy kid in middle and high school who used to run his finger up unsuspecting girls' spines to get that chest out reaction. In any case, after a delightful dinner we went to the Breakwater which is now Troxel's. The Breakwater was known for being a dive. I had never been. Not only is it all they way over by the high school, it just had that reputation of being sort of sketchy. But with the new ownership, the place has risen above. It's got all the nautical kitsch you could ever want, with a raised platform gated off with thick rope, but without the sketchiness. Deering and Down played and I don't think the poor bartenders were prepared for the onslaught. The place was packed with people who usually inhabit the Alaskan or the Rendezvous. But before the band even stopped playing, an exodus occurred - where did the people go? We never found out.

But it wasn't the Alaskan. Around 12:30 or 1am we went downtown and discovered that the Rendezvous had Karaoke and a scary crowd (scary-oke) and the Alaskan had some familiar faces but we didn't leave the Breakwater to listen to the Killers' first album playing from someone's iPod. We were feeling adventurous and decided to head to the Imperial, only to stumble upon some friends at the Triangle. We, a then ragtag group, turned around and headed past the Rendezvous and straight to The Lucky Lady.

I had never once set foot in the Lucky Lady. I even had a free drink token once and I gave it away because I was CERTAIN that I'd never go. But go, I did, and I don't regret it. We all drank cheap beer out of small pitchers ($5.50 a piece) and Mr. S and Miss BR took over the jukebox (yes, there was a jukebox) so we got an ear full of Flaming Lips (Mr. S had seen them in concert recently) and some sing-along worthy 80's hits thanks, probably, to Mr. MW. After a point that blueberry mocha martini, 5 shots worth of vodka, and the glasses of cheap beer kicked in full force and I experienced "time travel" as some like to call it. I blacked out and was lucky enough to find myself on my couch wrapped up in a blanket this morning. A few key things that make the night, overall, a success: Waking up without a stranger, with my glasses near me and un-broken, and with a blanket to keep me warm. Score 1 for Melissa, 1 for alcohol, 0 for, um, sobriety. Let's face it, booze and me are on the same team.