Spit?

In the last week, I spent some amazing time with Jen, Simón, Joan, and stage combat! :) We had a 2 day workshop with Rapiers and daggers, bucklers, cloaks, and then single rapier. My arms are SORE.

On Friday night, I went to see a show at the Boxcar Theater with Simón. After the show, as we were leaving, some crazy girl in a bumperless car decided to try to parallel park in the giant space in front of mine. This girl obviously had some driving issues...she was holding up traffic with half of her car in the parking space and half still sticking out in traffic for a while. At one point, she started backing up into her space, but she hadn't pulled forward enough to get the right trajectory, so she came close to hitting me. I started backing up my car to give her more room. I gave her some little warning beeps when she got a little too close. I thought I was being friendly...like, I was trying to help the vehicle operationally challenged, right? I was just trying to get out of the way and make sure she didn't hit me. About a minute after I beeped at her, this girl got out of her car and started to approach me. I thought she wanted to talk so I rolled down my window. She said, "BLEEP! Why don't you back the BLEEP! up so I can park?! ". This was followed by a lot of yelling at me and acting crazy in the street. I think I responded with something like, "Maybe you should learn how to BLEEP! drive!". Simón kept saying, "Just breathe...". Then the girl yelled, "I WILL SPIT ON YOU! YEAH, I WILL SPIT ON YOU!!". Um...whaaaaaaat? I didn't know how to respond to that. 'I will spit on you??' I quietly repeated it to myself... I mean, come on now, really? I just sat there looking at her like she was CRAZY. She got back in her car and pulled forward enough for me to get by, so I high-tailed it out of there. GEEZ!

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Don't drink and blog...?

I've been trying to use the picture and subject line in the last post for a while...and have been hoping to say something significant about each of the subjects I mentioned. I guess last night was the night to do it. ...er, to attempt to do it.

I kind of like the raw, reckless abandonment of the drunken post... :)

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Tiny dreams and paper houses

I feel like I've been trying to post this for soooo long..... It's the one about the detriment of hope... The pain of definition... The freaking ladder theory.

...but I have no good writing to complete these thoughts. The writing has been lost.

What I can tell you is...sleep no longer exists. And, houses made of paper will collapse...

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No walls

I remember standing on the stoop of the guys' house in overalls, a red bra, and barely a mid drift tank top -- ready to head out to the party. Matt kept saying, "you don't have any clothes on!".

A house full of musicians...thrown by the shakuhachi guy. I paid $30 for a custom made shakuhachi a few months later. He had carved out the mountains of Taiwan on it...or, was it Thailand...?

Adam brought this guy from work to the party. The guy caught Max and I in an embrace in the kitchen and drew a picture of us... Along the side of the picture, it said "no walls". I had a halo...Max's was unfinished -- we confirmed this with the artist. "You have a very strong energy." he told us. "Yours is stronger," he said to me, "...use it wisely."

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48hr film festival

Holy freaking tired....but, great day on set with Glenda, Seth, and team.

It's always fun and such an honor to be a part of someone's creative process.

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Madness!

So much has happened between my last post and now that I have no idea where to begin...

The Literary Death Match was AWESOME!! I had so many of my friends come out with me that night. I was a total stress case. I should avoid organizing things... :)

Alameda day -- haha. :) Full of mishaps and fun. ...and, bike riding...finally.

Jack London Square open studios -- local art and good catching up with the lovely Holly B.

48hr Film festival meeting (it begins tomorrow, wish us luck!).

Asian American Theater meeting -- I guess I'm a part of a new Asian American SF theater group. ? :)

Pixar class with Dave -- broadsword! Love working at Pixar, love working with Dave.

TRIVIA -- I have no idea how we even did this week! All I know is that Irvin was there, and Jen and I totally share a brain. And Brian and Teresa make me happy. :)

Josh helped me hang my pictures yesterday -- and Matt, Jessica, and little Wilder came by for dinner tonight.

Life is good.

Tomorrow is Troll 2, and then a weekend full of film festivals.

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Giant...bones...

I had the pleasure of joining the lovely Gabriella and her charming husband to the theatre tonight. I love this picture!!

Gabriella has this wonderful way of always looking amazing and very stylized...when she's not blurry. :D

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Movie night

Hedwig and the Angry Itch.

Robb piled about 10 people into his little apartment last night for a movie night.

Movie nights are great. So simple, yet so much fun. You can talk and eat and leave and come back and go to the bathroom and switch seats and none of it matters. You get to pick who's in the audience with you, it's cheap, and if something particularly awesome happens you can watch it again! You can't really beat that!

Hedwig and the Angry Itch was definitely an uncomfortable and bizarre musical, but I really liked it. Jen hated it!! Haha, just kidding. :). Oh, I just realized it's Angry Inch, not Itch...

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Burn

I burned my arm tonight taking a pizza out of the oven.

I didn't jerk away as my skin connected with the metal of the door. It was strange, like I could feel the pain, but I almost didn't mind it. I thought about it for a split second, and then moved my arm away from the burning sensation. A few seconds later, I could feel the pain begin to settle into my skin, so I ran cold water over it and covered it in neosporin.

Now, I have a bright red triangle burn just above my wrist.

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Love

I once heard a speaker talk about love...

Love is not a strong feeling, he said. Love is a judgment, a decision, and a commitment. At the time, I thought that was a bunch of bullshit.

I had lunch with this guy I know. He told me that he loves his girlfriend (that he /loves/ his girlfriend), but he wants to see other people because the passion has faded... He told his girlfriend that he wants to do this but she, of course, doesn't want an open relationship, she wants to get married. He tried to break up with her, but it was too hard so he's now trying to make it work with her... And, after telling me all of this, he proceeded to flirt with me. Seriously?!!

My grandparents have been married for something like 62 years. They're in their 80s and they still hold hands and make each other laugh.

Passion is defined as any powerful or compelling emotion or feeling. Love is defined as a profoundly tender, passionate affection for another person.

I believe in love.

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West Oakland

I moved to Oakland in November of the year 2000, chasing dreams...

West Oakland.

We used to sit on the stoop inside the giant metal fence surrounding our house and watch Fat Albert ride the electronic cart we guessed he stole from the grocery store...he'd usually have a skinny kid wearing a beanie hanging off the back to complete the picture. If we were out late enough, we could catch the cats sliding down the windshields of the cars leaving the smeared paw print smudges we'd find on our windshields almost every morning.

I moved from a giant 1 bedroom apartment in downtown Denver to a small room in an old Victorian house in the ghetto. My friend Matt had rented another room in the house. The rest of the rooms were occupied by an athlete/Stanford grad from NC, a super stoner/DJ (? -- don't get me started) from MN, and a couple Brazilians. Bon Dia!

I loved and hated the ghetto. Matt and I would listen to bosa nova and flick cigarette butts out his window while about 15 cats would congregate in our backyard. Cops would tear up and down our street with the ghetto bird (helicopter) never far behind. We could hear gunshots echo in the night, and the smells of cats and piss were always in the air. We always took anything extra we had to Jacob -- our local Rastafarian who lived on the streets. Our streets.

Dogtown. Named after the dogs in every yard but ours, the wild packs -- but mostly to define the old gang territory.

I will never forget the criminal who hid out in our house. The drug dealers next door. Matt playing his saxophone. Aaron attempting to DJ in his room... Jon, Dave(id), Brendan, Fernando. The Brazilians greeting the cats. The poverty, the absurdity, the brilliance, the sadness, the dreams, the frustration, the laughter....

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Exhausted

This is the wall outside the Thick House, where I've, again, spent a good portion of my weekend. :)

The past couple days have been full of friends, fun, and theater -- all of the best kind.

...sooo, why.

am.

I.

sad...

The 4th stage of grief... ?

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This is she

Echoes from the past...

"Everything melds into this blur of coffee and canned conversation, and I begin to wonder if a focus point exists in a world full of passion originated from an underground emphatic determination to find truth in the beauty of pure expressed emotion. And, I know that they are all connected by a right of purpose un-understood, but they...know. And, I get lost sometimes...in the conversation...in the passing thoughts of your fingers drumming on my back a perfect rhythm...and I float off to a place where it still doesn't make sense, but the view is better." ...

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Brunch!

Friends, laughter, stories, babies, photos, food, fun. :)

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