AROUND HERE:
a girl named alex
all the writings
photography
site q&a
girl bits
send a little note
Syndicate (RSS/XML)
My Other Sites:
Girl at Play
Hygge House
I pet Pet the Pretty Things
CATEGORIES:
Everyday Words Family & Friends Favourite Entries Green Living Hollywood/Art Home & Garden Links & Loves Los Angeles Moving Quotes Site & Personal News Tech/Blogs/Bizness Travels
Lovely Wishes:
Amazon Wishlist
(I find the best books)
Anthropologie Wishlist
(I find the prettiest things)
March 24, 2008
101 Things to Do Before I Die: 1. Go to Mustique Island. 2. Stay at the Bora Bora Beachcomber Inter-Continental 3. Go back to Maui 4. Linger 5. Take an actual vacation (one place, one week, no work, no internet) 6. Produce a film. 7. Donate over a million dollars. 8. Get a pedicure. 9. Own/run a (gluten free) gite in France. 10. Have a maid. 11. Sleep more than 4 hours a night. 12. Ride the Orient Express 13. Fly a plane. 14. Take the Coast Starlight from LA to Seattle. 15. Stay at the Ritz Paris 16. Stay at Hotel Particular Paris 17. Have a Four Seasons Residence Membership 18. Throw a massive party extravaganza. 19. Own the best claw foot tub 20. Be healthy. 21. Swoon. 22. See Vienna 23. Do the "Sound of Music" tour 24. Cook more and enjoy it. 25. Have a garden 26. Have a stone home 27. Own the latest Canon Digital Rebel 28. Buy my entire Anthropologie Wishlist at once 29. Never hesitate in buying a book 30. Do a walking tour of Ireland 31. Own a Dior gown. 32. Take my mum on a whirlwind trip to France. 33. Bike in France 34. Do photography for Anthropologie 35. Not move for an entire year. 36. Move back to Europe (Denmark or France). 37. Be met at an airport 38. Do a travel show. 39. Unpack everything. 40. Have my mum live near or with me for a few months a...
February 17, 2008
Today I turn 34 which I'm so very glad for as I must confess 33 was, for lack of a better term, ass. But tonight I'm at an estate built in the 1600's as a summer residence in a beautiful part of Ireland. I've had champagne and gluten free cake with two sets of flowers in my hotel apartment. So far, 34 is promising. The photo is blurry, I know, but I think it just captures how I've been lately - always in motion. People always ask how I do so much and wonder if it's a sugar daddy or magic pill. The truth is it's just a love of life and lots of doing because I believe life is made up of choice, not circumstance and I choose to do anything and everything I can think of. There are so many things I want to do, places I want to see, people I want to know that I am always busy either trying to figure out how to do things or doing them. Which often makes for some blurry times but I kind of like it that way. I couldn't be happy just thinking of ideas and wondering how they'd turn out. I wouldn't be happy feeling like I wasn't able to do something because of something else. By choosing not to focus on circumstance or what others say is possible, my life and all that I do is possible. And it leaves me with this wonderful blurry...
January 15, 2008
Almost every day I see the same gentleman (who is in his 80's) walk very slowly down the sidewalk. Until he takes notice of me (or any other young woman around) he is supported by his daughter (who is in her 60's). But as soon as he sees me he shoo's her away, stands a little straighter and walks on his own trying to be proud and nonchalant. He always says hi to Jack and I and then once we're passed and I'm out of sight, he returns to his daughter's side. Sometimes I'll hear her say as though she's an embarrassed 16 year old, "Oh Dad, really" when he lets go. In the video above, I was seventeen years old and now the video is seventeen years old. I can remember every detail of those days - the heat, the way the grass felt, the butterflies in my tummy over crushing, the weight of the trunk on our heads, the beach, her laughter, putting on lipstick for the first time and eating McDonald's French Fries. Recently I showed this video to my mum who giggled through the whole thing whilst saying over and over, "you haven't changed. Listen to how you giggle, look at those movements and that cheek! So much the same!" When we went through her photos at the same age, I could say the same things about her. And when we look at the seventeen year old girls we were, we don't see any non-physical...
January 13, 2008
The Santa Monica Sunday Market is always busy making parking - which is already rare - even more of a premium. I turned off main street to park in the public lot behind, hopeful that I'd find parking so I could run into my favourite pet food store to pick something up. I usually do because I don't focus on the full lot but on one spot to open. And it always does. As I turned in, a man about 50 in an expensive, flashy convertible stopped in front. It looked like he would get a lucky day as one car pulled out of a very full lot. However, as the car was getting ready to pull out, I noticed on the other incoming side a car of women who also thought they were going to get that spot. When convertible man saw this he began to yell not very nice things to them. The way the parked car pulled out ended up blocking convertible man and in went the car of women. Convertable man was not happy about this and kept his car stopped so he could continue to yell not so nice things to the women. As he did this a woman walked past him and said, "Sir, you can stop, I'm pulling out right here." And that should have ended it. But he was angry and had to be right. So while he waited for the other woman to pull out, he kept yelling at the...
January 10, 2008
My secret beach in Carmel had beautiful, tall trees and flowers that kept trying to grow amongst the white sandy beaches. It was quiet, peaceful and beautiful. I'd go here when I needed to feel the same. Then last week rough weather approached and for a few days the secret beach was dark and clung to desperately to its winter beauty. The clouds rolled over the regular beach, too, creating massive waves and ominous skies. But the beach, though darker, was unchanged. Although the winds and waves were kicking up, the white sand tried so hard to stay, hiding things underneath while letting selective things grow. It wasn't ready for the change and tried to pretend nothing was happening. It's just winds and waves said the beach and those who came - this is how it always is. You think something will happen but really, it doesn't. We pretend to ooh and ahh and watch the show but truthfully, it's just show. But then a storm really came; trees were down, power was out for two days, hurricane winds pelted down over 6 inches of rain in 24 hours. The view from my flat was usually beautiful but I couldn't see through the rain or clouds and at night it was pitch black with no solace from a candle. It was an isolating, scary and humbling three day period because no one was really prepared. When the worst of the storm was over the dog and I were itching...
January 06, 2008
It's not in me to wear a yellow slicker during storms but I still go out in them. I prefer not to wear hiking shoes whilst hiking yet have been to the top of more mountains than anyone I know. I don't like pants when using power tools or putting up dry wall. It's just not in me to be in anything other than a skirt or dress. But people are often uncomfortable with this. I have friends who, for years, have tried to fit me in jeans or make me "hip." Girlfriends who think because I wear a dress that twirls I'm prissy when I am only wearing one layer to their 5 (who put more thought in and worries more? Not I). There is an assumption because I dress like a girl, I must be limited to phrases such as "princess" and only wear pink. I have never used the word princess and I don't own anything pink. My adoration for dresses and skirts come for my love of pretty and my laziness. They're easy, versatile and simply, me. And they've made me a target of a lot of people's jokes, assumptions and insecurities. But that hasn't ever changed how I feel about them. Besides, wearing them on blustery days has given me great reflexes....
November 12, 2007
It seems as though everyone looks for "signs" as whether to do something or not. Let the stars guide me, they say. They'll randomly flip through passages of books to find "words of meaning" and direction. They'll count to 10 and if a bell rings they know to move forward. Everyone just wanting reassurance from some other super force that they're on the right track. But what I've noticed is when people look for "signs" they're really only looking for the "yes." No one really looks for the "no." If they don't get a sign, they try a new trick. Show me a sign that he loves me! I need a sign if I should move! Give me a sign to take that job! But if nothing happens, almost no one every takes it as a no. They just simply look for another sign. I've always believed that when you ask advice, you're really just looking for confirmation of what you already know but you're just not ready to hear it. Sometimes I wonder if all the "sign seekers" already know the answer, too, but just aren't ready to accept that they already have the answer and the power....
October 27, 2007
At a restaurant the other night I saw at a table just a bit away a man I once knew years ago. And when I say knew I mean that we were, for a few weeks, on set together and our interactions were always brief but always enjoyable. We never divulged personal information or had each over for holidays but we shared stories and laughed during the time we worked together. And I can remember almost every day so clearly and so many of the funny little thing's he'd do - not in a smitten kitten way but because somehow even the mundane was interesting with him. My first reaction upon seeing him was to say Hi and reconnect. But I hesitated; he wouldn't remember me and if I just start talking like we know each other he'll think I'm a crazy fan. Or if I ask about that project he wanted to want to do he'll wonder why I remember that after all these years - am I a stalker? A loser? A User? So I kept to myself, not even mentioning to anyone at the table that over there was a man I once knew. However, about thirty minutes later he approached and asked me if I'd ever lived in Vancouver. Yes, I said, for a few years in the mid-90's. Then he smiled and said, "So nice to see you after all this time, Alex. Do you still have that skirt?" This man is an A-List...
April 25, 2007
I have, at the very least, been on 27 flights since 2007 began. That's about 26 more than I'd like; I'm not a flyer. But I am the sort that likes to see new things and create experiences. So despite the fear, I keep booking flights, printing my boarding pass, and pray to little baby Jesus that nothing will happen. And, truthfully, nothing bad ever does. The fear, the build up, it's always for nothing. The plane touches down as do I and I begin my walk towards the new and always glad I came. So here's to one more flight next week. A one way ticket back home, home for at least awhile. Home to where things are brand new {new flat, new job, new eyes}. Am I scared? Well, I'm not a flyer but oh, how do I love to see and do new things......
February 17, 2007
Today is my 33rd birthday and I'm in Copenhagen to celebrate it. So far, 33 is pretty wonderful....
January 28, 2007
I was 18 here and my best girlfriend and I had just arrived in Banff Alberta and were staying at Chateau Lake Louise. Because we were strange girls, I wrapped a tensor bandage over my face and she painted a face on top. She then dared me to walk around the famous, 4 star hotel that was filled with celebrities due to a yearly screening that was going on. We got into the elevator and it stopped on the next floor. In walked Jason Priestly* with his entourage and they kept looking at us. We kept very quiet, trying not to laugh or say anything and he kept looking, probably wondering what the hell was going on with my face. Finally, my best friend whispered to him, "burn victim" and he just got this very solemn look on his face and nodded. He got off the elevator before us and we busted out laughing for the next three floors. I think I lasted a whole walk of the hotel - and it's a big hotel. *we didn't know it was Jason Priestly at the time or who he was because we didn't have television. We only found out later at an after party. When we were introduced he said I looked familiar and I had to tell him I was the burn victim....
January 27, 2007
Mr. Jack Darcy It has been an intense week of meetings, talking, work and cold, rainy dark weather. So when the sun appeared today I decided that I needed to take some time off and head to the hill country for a long walk outdoors. It was good to meander along the river, watching Jack drink from it for the first time and discovering that he loves water (which makes me look forward to swimming with him in the summer). Walking with him for the first time on a trail was an experience; he sniffed everything, discovered little trails I might have overlooked and not walked, sat to watch people and played with other dogs as they passed. Usually when I walk it's at a pretty good pace though I thought I still noticed things such as who in my neighborhood has just moved in, who has new landscaping, a tree that's fallen, where the mean dog is, where the nice kitty is. But on this particular walk with the dog and a slower pace, I began to notice even more. And I began to forget about the intense week and the one coming up and the chores that had to be done. About half way into the trail, we met a young girl about 9 who stopped and asked what my dogs name was. "Jack Darcy," I said and she scribbled it into her notebook. I asked why she was writing it down and she said, "I'm taking...
December 05, 2006
Last week a woman came into the store, grabbed one of the "stay in touch" cards and walked off. Half an hour later she came in, handed me the card then literally ran out of the store. Her behaviour was really odd and when I looked at the card, I understood why. The address and name portion had not been filled out but there was a note on the back that was pretty sarcarstic and said something along the lines about how nice it was for us to send out our catalog after the Tsnuami to show that we care. It also said that they had just seen Al Gores "An Inconvienient Truth" and they were so glad to see that our store kept all its lights on all night long wasting electricity. There was no contact information and she didn't stick around to hear an answer to her concerns; she'd already made up her mind that the store was the problem. However, had she chosen to create a dialogue with anyone who worked there over what she thought was wrong (a store that didn't care about Tsnuami Victims or electricity) she would have learned that the store had donated hundreds of thousands to the Tsnumami victims as well as clothes and supplies. And she would have further learned that the halogen lights the store kept on all night were run by solar power and that, for the most part, the store was off the grid. I understand her concerns...
November 21, 2006
How much easier it is to be critical than to be correct. - Benjamin Disraeli When I was perhaps eight or so, my class and I sewed trees together just like the ones pictured here. It's a very simple, basic sewing project you can do with a machine or by hand (we did it by hand). Our teacher didn't invent this pattern I'm sure; she'd probably seen it around when she was a child and passed it onto us. There's a store I work at every November-January and this year I was fortunate enough to help open one. The theme for the winter holidays, given by the corporate office, was "tree farm." Every store has a team of full-time visual designers who then interpret how that will play out for their store. Our store chose it very literally by bringing in dozens of trees which we put in brand new silver cans made to look old and by also sewing hundreds of these trees in lots of different colours and patterns. The idea came about in a very organic way; a group of visual and crafty girls sitting on a couch with coffee, pouring over magazines with a sketch book in hand. Eyes lighting up when an idea really hit or cringing at things that were off. The process was more basement crafters than corporate store and these simple trees, which I discovered many of us had made during our childhood, were all something that people thought would be...
October 06, 2006
I am missing fall and charm; it's really just that simple. When it's just cold enough for a sweater and hot chocolate. When the windows open and you feel the cold brush in. When boots and tights come out to replace flip flops and cheeks are rosy. I miss cosy. I'm trying to be mindful of the future but not at the expense of the present which means that although I know I'll be moving again, I've still got to feel at home and live here now - not put it off until I think I've got "it." So then I've taken to buying furniture for the first time, painting a few walls to make it mine, weatherstripping like there's no tomorrow and unpacking every single box - even those that have been packed for years. There's the old saying, "Be better than your current circumstances" and that's my motto as of late. The current situation is far from ideal but there is a purpose. And as long as I use that purpose to make the next goal then, perhaps it will make missing all the things I love a little easier to bare. If not, there's always tea....
May 28, 2006
Last week when I went to put my key in the lock of my front door, I heard this humming and bumping noise. Looking up I saw a hummingbird flying and hitting the skylight over and over again; the light confused him as he thought it was a way out. Worried that he'd die of exhaustion on one of our hottest days, I ran into the flat where I luckily had some bright red tissue paper. I made a mixture of sugar water in a large bowl which I placed out on the stoop above the tissue paper, hoping that this would somehow lure the bird down. It did. A few days later, the same thing happened. Again, I got the tissue paper and water to lure the bird down. Again it worked. Today when I came home, once again the same hummingbird was caught flying around the skylight, trying to get out. I no longer had the tissue paper and I didn't know what else to do. How many times should I save the bird from the same problem? How would I explain to that bird to come down and never go back? It can't understand. How often am I to get involved in the same issue and worry myself over its fate? I decided that sometimes one shouldn't get involved and let things happen. When I came out later I didn't hear the buzzing and looked down. There was the hummingbird still on the ground. So beautiful and...
April 04, 2006
"When you look for the bad in mankind, expecting to find it, you surely will." Abraham Lincoln We were running out of time to find parking; the concert was going to start in just five minutes and we'd been circling the city street for nearly twenty minutes looking for any garage that would have space or be open when we'd get out. But there was nothing and we were sure we'd miss the show. So imagine how we squealed when, right across the theatre, a parking space opened up. I parked the car and my girlfriend went to check the metre. A man came out of the building in front and started talking to her and she got back in the car. "This is a tow-away zone," she said, "and he told us we can't park here. I told him we had to get to the concert and he said he's a security manager for this building and he'll let us in the parking garage! We just have to drive around the corner and he'll open the gate!" We were so happy with our luck. Free parking, across the street, with moments to spare. Random act of kindness stowed upon us. It was good times. After the concert we walked back to the building and chatted a bit with the security guy as he walked us down to the garage where he'd let us out. He stood by the gate and we got in our car and before we went...
March 28, 2006
I immigrated to the US in 1999; it took a lot of time, money and emotional effort. It was a really hard thing to go through and I sometimes questioned if it was all worth it. Since I've been in America, I've paid my taxes, adapted to American culture (though I keep my culture at home) but haven't become a citizen because I plan at sometime to return home. But while I'm here, I plan to be here legally and fully. So for me, its really bothersome when people come to the country without having to go through the steps I went through. I wasn't rich, I didn't have a degree, I probably wasn't "desirable" but I went through the legal steps and have paid my dues since. And I'm not walking around the country I tried so hard to get into, waiving a flat of my old country. I don't get why people do that in protests. Living in LA I could tell you why from experience, illegal immigration doesn't work. The rich really benefit from it here and the poor immigrants just stay that way and the poor/middle class legal residents suffer the most. Illegal immigration does take away jobs from legal residents. Why? If you didn't have illegal workers, you'd have to pay more for the jobs to get people who wouldn't normally work them, work them. LA is expensive; a lot of people can't afford to work under the table except those who have no choice....
March 13, 2006
Four things I've learned whilst in Austin: 1. If you wear big sunglasses, unlike LA, you will be known and recognised for them and should expect to hear at night "Aren't you the girl who wore the big sunglasses?" a lot. 2. If you have long blonde hair and a foreign accent and attend a tech convention, you will be called M'Lady at some point. 3. You'll meet a lot of people. But the person you're most likely to connect with (and makes you question if you were seperated at birth), lives only four blocks from you back in L.A.. 4. If you lose an award, going out with great people afterwards will make you feel a hell of a lot better....
November 03, 2005
I don't read fiction almost ever - it's not something I enjoy really. Give me an autobiography written by the person, a journal, a behind the scenes but don't make me read their work or watch the show. Even with movies I adore all the background bits - I didn't like the 3rd Lord of the Rings but purchased the DVD's just for all the notes and commentaries. I've been asked why I like knowing all that goes into making something - doesn't that spoil the magic they ask? No, I always answer, the truth, the struggle, the doing, the creativity - that's the magic right there. The outcome is just result....
October 20, 2005
It had been a whirlwind morning of darting through Santa Monica, Brentwood and Beverly Hills for several different projects I have going on.It was at four that I decided to head home and grab a quick bite before heading out once again. But it had become rather cold outside due to the marine layer and the cosiness of the mist changed my mind and had me instead wanting to do something I don't normally do - chill out. Instead of hopping in the car, I walked through my neighbourhood, admiring so many of the Halloween decorations that are out. This inspired me as this Halloween I'm going to only my second Halloween party - something I don't normally do. After walking twenty blocks up I moved over to the boutique lined street, Montana Ave where I decided to take my time walking down, stopping into shops and do a bit of window shopping at a very leisurely pace. I hadn't been on this street for so long, least of all shopping. But on this afternoon I decided to do something I don't normally do. The closer I got to my flat, the colder it became so I decided to pop into the cafe for a latte, a bit of warmth and an excuse to sit down outside and people watch. It was good. I've been having my tea and coffee on the go for so long that I forgot how wonderful it is to sit under heater lamps, wrapping my...
August 02, 2005
Stuck In A Moment by U2 I'm not afraid Of anything in this world There's nothing you can throw at me That I haven't already heard I'm just trying to find A decent melody A song that I can sing In my own company I never thought you were a fool But darling look at you You gotta stand up straight Carry your own weight These tears are going nowhere baby You've got to get yourself together You've got stuck in a moment And now you can't get out of it Don't say that later will be better Now you're stuck in a moment And you can't get out of it I will not forsake The colors that you bring The nights you filled with fireworks They left you with nothing I am still enchanted By the light you brought to me I listen through your ears Through your eyes I can see And you are such a fool To worry like you do I know it's tough And you can never get enough Of what you don't really need now My, oh my You've got to get yourself together You've got stuck in a moment And you can't get out of it Oh love, look at you now You've got yourself stuck in a moment And you can't get out of it I was unconscious, half asleep The water is warm 'til you discover how deep I wasn't jumping, for me it was a fall It's a long...
July 22, 2005
I remember when I first saw this bee laying in the flower and thought him dead. My first reaction wasn't that in the heat of summer he might have been so busy as to just need a nap (which was true) but that it must not be alive if it's not moving. The past few months for me have been busy. So very, very busy. I'm not the kind of girl who schedules her life so seeing my iCal fill up with times and dates and people was so overwhelming at first, and then sadly became routine. And although Sundays had been strictly a day off for me with nothing more than breakfast and hanging out at the beach in Mailbu, all other days were go, go, go. I think perhaps I thought if I wasn't moving, I wasn't living either. Ridiculous, isn't it. So I took a week off at home, not answering personal emails, not going to any appointments, not working on projects or worrying about deadlines. I literally shut all the windows, kept the lights low and just relaxed for the first time in years. Then the second week I opened the windows and went out just a little, keeping some people at bay and pushing back projects. The third week I found balance between doing and resting which is good, as next week I'm out on part business, part pleasure. I'll need to remember that some busy is good (especially when you want things) but...
April 10, 2005
Tonight was my first big Hollywood event; a dress was bought, heels went on and a little lipgloss was swiped. After being terribly sick for the past week and inside on the couch for most of it, getting a chance to go out was welcomed. And although I'd been to the Beverly Hills Hotel on several occasions (their soda fountain restaurant has the best burger in town, I swear) this was the first time I was able to step into a ballroom and, when no one was looking, twirl around and pretend to dance. I was there on my own, no boy or friend to gush with, so I had to quickly learn to get over being shy and talk with people, which I did. I even laughed, told a dirty joke or two and toasted someone on their birthday. I met big Hollywood people from actors to directors to producers and listened to some very good speeches on media consolidation. I ate far too much and sipped good wine and all in all, had a very lovely night. As I drove home along Sunset Blvd I played the Oldies station and danced in my seat to the Beatles. I realised how good I was feeling and knew it wasn't because of the wine, the people, the music or the twirling of the dress. It was because I was able to go out and have a night on my own, a little private time, and have the only worry of...
March 04, 2005
At what point does one notice changes in themselves either physically or mentally? I mean, really notice? There's the stories of obese people who, with gastric by-pass surgery, lose hundreds of pounds. Yet these people still feel fat; they haven't seen the change just as an anorexic at 80 pounds can still see themself as 150. When someone sets out to change a habit it's been scientifically proven that it takes an average of three weeks for the habit to be broken (to stop eating baked goods, to maintain a work out schedule, to get up earlier, to read every day etc.). Does the person notice at three weeks or does it take longer? The blog world is filled with people who make declarations of what they want to change, or changing or have changed but when does it actually happen? Because a lot of people talk about how they think they've changed but they haven't. Then there's those who have often changed for the worst and can't see it at all. These same people talk about themselves so much you'd think they'd notice real changes but they don't - they just talk about the ideal self instead of the real self. For as long as I've been alive I've been a brown-eyed girl - that was even my favourite boogey tune in Banff which they DJ would play whenever I came into the club. My drivers license, passport and health documents all say I've brown eyes. Yet over...
February 11, 2005
Heavy rains have set in today which, I must confess, I am thankful for. The past couple of months have literally been non-stop go, go, go and I have grown a bit weary. I would slow down but truth be told, the busyness is due to the fact that I want to do so much and there is much to do - something I don't see changing soon. There's so many ideas I have floating through my head that must be put into action such as transforming Girl at Play to Girl at Play productions, a company that will launch a new site, hopefully a travel television show and a book based on the Chronicles of how I left corporate america to rock out creatively. It will also have me taking on a business partner and hopefully some others by summer. On top there's getting material for all that I'm doing, looking for furniture and bits for the home so that I am no longer sitting on the floor or using the same two forks, cooking with all my lovely books, trying to get a tea party at the flat and everything in-between. There's also been going and setting up new bank accounts, many trips to the Post Office (I'm official!), catching up on the 100+ emails that fill my box every day from friends and business adventures, going to work on new projects with the producer and so many other errands here and there (one which included going to...
February 07, 2005
I'm currently doing some projects with a brilliant and wonderful producer and although I'm in-love with the work I'm doing there (lots of script reading, searching for projects to produce, events, chatting and editing), what I most adore about it all is where I get to go. It's to a place that is over three acres and has a beautiful home, garden and outside office office which is surrounded by trees, flowers, oranges, apples, squirrels, birds and horses. Just a short walk down the road is a simple community outdoor horse ring that's used by all the horse people in the area (including some very famous neighbours). Sometimes after I'm done at the office, I'll stop at the ring and watch the trainer and train the horse horse. What I've come to understand is that there is an agreement between the two; the trainer asks the horse to do something and the horse complies. The horse could choose to jump over the fence, run into the trainer or blow a fit and not run around the ring but he doesn't - he agrees to do what the trainer asks. This, I don't think, is unique to this situation. I think everyone makes agreements with everyone. Often I hear things from people such as "he made me do it" or "I have to because my boss said so" but really, no one has to do anything. They just agree to do things. I have been examining my own agreements with people...
February 02, 2005
Last night as we walked around the neighbourhood we marvelled at where we were and how far we'd come in just a month. How quickly things were turning around, getting organised and moving forward. We thought about other people we knew who never moved and ideas that went no where and wondered why we seemed to be going it differently. Chris spoke about how I had great intuition and trust in faith (not religious faith, but faith in knowing what I'm doing and what I want) but that I didn't rely 100% on that. Instead, I listened to it as a guide and then combined it with effort and responsibility. I let my unconscious speak and let my conscious work. I acted instead of just dreamed. And generally, when things happen, I use the experience as tools - regardless if it was a good experience or not. I think perhaps even if it's bad I think how can I use this, what is the lesson, what can I do? I really don't see failure and it's not because I win and do everything right but because when something doesn't work, it doesn't work. Failure means to me that there is no use and you give up. I don't think one should ever give up. Last year literally every month brought tragic news and circumstance. At times I wondered how I could still stand on two legs and how I could even imagine better things. It was so incredibly hard but...
January 31, 2005
This afternoon I went to the producer's home office to do some work and after a little while, there was a ring at the gate. It was a girl scout selling cookies. After pre-ordering a box and speaking with her, I realised she was from next door and that I had just ordered cookies from Steven Spielberg's daughter. What is strange about this event is how unstrange it really was. It wasn't surreal, or odd, or anything other than ordinary. Being here and all the events that are going on are much more normal than one would ever think....
January 26, 2005
It's been a slightly traumatising morning as my cat of eight years, Grace (who can fetch, play hide and seek, understands commands and crosses her paws when she sits all ladylike), is very, very ill. I rushed her to one vet where I got really bad vibes from the office staff and vet and felt terribly uncomfortable with the chaos that was going on, the coldness/grumpiness of the staff, the way things were handled (taking Grace back to a cage and not letting me be there during the exam) and the rush to totally medicate and do surgery right away. There were a lot of things that I was uneasy with so I listened to the sign and asked to have Grace removed from the back room cages (since they wouldn't even let me hold her or see her), removed her from that office and rushed her to another. The second vet has turned out to be amazing and soothing to all of us (this reenforced the notion that one really ought to listen to their gut instincts and not apologise for walking away from someone/something that they're less than comfortable with). Currently, Grace is hooked while they hydrate her and do a little surgery. She'll be there for a couple of days while I sit at home trying to move forward with errands, bill paying and preparing for a new work project that begins tomorrow. But it's hard. The worry, the helpless feeling, well, at moments it's a...
January 11, 2005
Whilst walking around town today, there were a few instances where people were pointing at me or acknowledging me in a weird way. I couldn't for the life of me understand as since moving here, I've been able to be pretty invisable (in Seattle, people often stared at me because I was in neither flannel or black). On one street it became particularily bad when I could hear a group of teenage girls behind me whispering, there she is! quick catch up! oh my god!. I felt a tap on my shoulder and when I turned around there were several excited girl faces which quickly turned to dissapointment. "Oh," one said, "you're not her." A couple of other people made comments but no one said anything which peaked my interest. Just who do I look like? I've got no idea but it leads me to think if I could find out, I could maybe have a career as a stand in here......
January 09, 2005
Although I adore a good lipgloss and a pretty light eyeshadow, I'm not really a girl who wears makeup. Oh I could tell you the tricks of the trade and what brand is what but I've always been rather terrible when it comes to painting up myself. In fact, when I wear makeup I tend to feel more ugly than without because I look less like me and more like a sad version of someone else. But with so much stress, bad sleeps and eating habits and being rather lazy about washing up at night, my skin which was so often so very good became a horrible mess. I felt as though I were 16 with no end in site. Instead of changing the bad habits (some couldn't be changed due to everything going on), I began to cover up each spot and blemish that'd appear. No one can see red! I'd think. No one can see a blemish either! and so on the makeup would go. And on, and on. In fact, it became a daily habit that if there wasn't makeup applied, I'd feel worse than any redness could make me feel. But the problem was, the makeup was terrible and I knew it. It made everything look worse. But somehow, that little tin of makeup became some sort of safety blanket despite the fact that it was far worse than anything natural. I had made an appointment at the Ole Henriksen Day Spa in West Hollywood for...
December 20, 2004
This is the first year that there is no tree, no decorations, no presents to wrap or unwrap, no cards to display, cookies to bake, dinners to go to, family to laugh with. It's just an empty flat with a few boxes, a mattress, a very large cat a tin of chocolate given by a dear friend. Christmas, to me, has always been a very special time. I celebrate the 24th in the traditional Danish way and the 25th in the French. The season has always been about doing for others, toasting with others, being cosy at home, relaxing, dreaming and all that good stuff. I haven't become bitter with any of it. In fact, I'm one of those that adores Christmas tunes, belting them out like nobodies business. But this year, my idea of Christmas couldn't become a reality. It just couldn't. With the loss of my family, the uncertainty of where we're living, the tightness of money for the move, well, the usual couldn't be. This made me rather poopy I must confess for a little while. So programmed to think that X, Y and Z make Christmas. Even at times being a bit jealous when I heard of parties and food and saw pretty packages in the stores. But then, I got over it. I had to. So our Christmas won't really be Christmas this year. We'll be packing up our housewares instead of opening packages but that doesn't mean it's not Christmas. It just means that's...
December 17, 2004
There's a lot to learn about surrendering to things just happening. I used to be the kind of girl that just floated as the current moved. It would take me whereever and instead of feeling adrift, I felt I was going places. Relaxed, happy, adventerous. But since coming to America I've learned about the word security and started to let that control me. Had to have everything just so. Had to have the job, the home, the right way of doing things and on and on. Living this way was always very taxing and never much fun. With regards to the move, both of us have been looking for the easy way. Trying to control every situation, not moving until everything was inline. We uttered the phrase when things calm down we will... more than I could know. We weren't doing anythign in the present and only living in the future as nothing we could control was going right. This week, I decided to give up controlling anything and everything. To just do what I can, when I can. This lead me to purchase a plane ticket on Monday afternoon and fly out that same day to LA to scout for a flat. I had been afraid to fly there on my own and drive so instead I had been waiting for the perfect move until I could get over my fears. But, fuck it, I thought, there's no perfect time to do anything. And I got my ass there...
December 10, 2004
As a young girl I was more than active; I was in gymnastics, dance, football (soccer), rollar/ice skating and anything else I could get my hands on. I adored playing and sports but I must confess that my favourites were always the ones in which I could do something in a pretty dress (I actually kicked a lot of ass in football in a fabulous yellow summer dress). One of my favourite things to do was to put on a pair of very clunky rollarskates that attached to your shoes and skate in my yard to a very shabby tape player. I'd do this for hours at a time and just felt like pure magic. However, at 8, most of these things came to an end whilst my family and I spent a year trying to find the reasons why I had so much pain in my ankle. At 9, I could barely walk until it was discovered I had a very rare bone condition and had surgery to correct it. I turned 10 a week after this surgery and, I think as a surprise to make me feel better, I received a brand-new pair of lace-up white boot rollar skates. I was devestated. I had wanted these for as long as I skated but, with one leg that would remain in a cast for the next two months, they now seemed like a joke. I couldn't skate. Ever. It would be too hard. In fact, I was convinced...
December 03, 2004
With a craving for a chocolate croissant and tea from my favourite French cafe, I stopped in at a wonderful outdoor shopping area in Seattle. In the middle of it was The Caring Tree - a very tall and beautiful tree with white lights, white ribbons and white tags all over. Each tag was from a child in which their name, age, sex and wish was written on. The children were from foster care, to orphanges to child services - basically very needy children. When I realised what all this was, I just stood there for a moment and wept a little. Here was this beautiful Christmas tree with hundreds of wishes written all over it. It was both beautiful and sad to me. I went through the tags looking for a gift I could relate to and found a boy of ten wanting Legos. As Chris is a fancier of them I purchased a fantastic little Lego Spiderman set oh his behalf for the little boy. I then found a fifteen year old girl who had only asked for a scarf and this about broke my heart. She asked for something warm and practical - something she ought to have already and not for a splurge at Christmas. So I picked that up and headed over to my favourite store where, using my discount from my seasonal job there, purchased two lovely, colourful, warm, pretty scarves. I was a little unsure about them because although I thought them fantastic,...
November 12, 2004
There's an outside, old-fashioned shopping area near my home, one that has turn-of-the-century homes that have been converted into art shoppes, restaurants, home bits and lots of birds that flock in the nearby river and on the boardwalk. So whilst walking down the lane I wasn't surprised to hear a rooster making noise but I was surprised to see what he was doing. He was sitting on the first rung of a ladder that was leaning against a building. He flapped his wings, made a scene and then flew up to the fourth rung. He repeated this all again until he was at the 8th, then 10th, then the top. At the top of the ladder he made the biggest fuss yet - wings flapping wildly and noise coming out like there was no tomorrow. So I walked in closer to see him and then I noticed a sign on the ladder. It read: Please, do not climb ladder....
November 09, 2004
When I went to pick up a few groceries, I noticed the $10, $15 and $20 food bags were once again out. It's where the store packs food into a bag and you purchase it for the amount above and the bag is donated to needy families. The first time I saw this was several years ago in a different country and store. And I feel the same way about it now as I did then....
October 27, 2004
Five years ago, I purchased a small beta fish and named him Lester. One week later he died. The following year, I purchased another beta, kept him in the same bowl, named him Dude and had him for about two years. After his passing, I purchased yet another beta, named him Badass and kept him in the same bowl. Despite moving with him 4 times, having the cat drink out of his bowl, having him be out of his water for at least 1/2hr on the carpet, having him not be fed for two weeks, and having his water almost freeze, he has survived happily for the past three years in his little bowl. This has taught me that a name is everything when it comes to beta fishes....
October 16, 2004
.flickr-photo { border: solid 1px #ccc; padding: 5PX }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; } Nieces, originally uploaded by alexthegirl. In January of this year, I lost my neices and it has been the hardest thing I have ever had to endure and, for lack of a better term, get over. For most of the year I've had terribly nightmares each night where I see my eldest neice but I am hiding from her. Even though I want nothing more than to see her, I know I am not supposed to see her and do my best to hide from her behind doors, clothes hanging from the line, and blankets. But she keeps searching for me (I'm her favourite), always crying out, "Auntie, Auntie." After awhile she'll notice my feet as I hide and know it's me. After she finds me we would hug each other and just cry. Now the dreams are softer. I don't fight so hard when she comes looking for me and she finds me more easily. We talk now instead of cry when we find each other and last night we even giggled a bit. It's becoming easier to wake up from the dreams but it's still hard. It's hard every time see a book or a toy I'd love to give her, every time I hear the word "auntie," every time I see a little blonde girl that could be one of them. It hurts so...
October 15, 2004
I spent last night and this morning in the ER; I had been quite ill for a couple of days and the pain intensified last night. It was suspected that I had appendicitis. Immediately I was hooked up to this machine and that and then came time for the usual drawing of the blood. Though the actual act doesn't bother me, in the last several years the after math has. Right after blood has been taken, I almost always get terribly ill. Last night was no exception. I could feel the blood being drained and I said, "I think I'm going to pass out". The nurse said I had no colour, laid me flat quickly and saw my blood pressure going crazy. I started to shake and get really sick. The whole ordeal lasted a good ten minutes. Afterwards when the nurse said I was fine I told him it was strange how the needles affected me now. I told him I had had seven surgeries and numerous tests and I never, ever had this reaction until recently. Now I have it every time. He told me that the body has a memory, creating a emotional response to events and that perhaps somewhere along the line I had a bad experience with needles, which my body remembered. And a huge light bulb went off in my brain for two reasons. The first was about 5 years ago I had blood taken by an incredibly stupid nurse who gabbed with her...
October 13, 2004
I was a very scrawny little girl. So much so that I had to wear suspenders because we could never find belts small enough. I hated pants and preferred dresses as they just seemed to fit better. While a lot of this had to do with genetics and the fact I was born with health complications (almost dying as an infant, had surgeries on ankles), some of it had to do with my diet or lack there of. I was a terribly picky eater but with reason; I was living with Danish cooking. Lard on everything, beets at every meal, cheese that smelled so bad and little fishes that smelt worse. Open face sandwiches with unrecognizable things on them and desserts that weren't what a little child would want to it. I loved fruit and vegetables and plain salami. I didn't ever eat junk food or candy and pop and sugar drinks weren't allowed in our home so I knew nothing about them. It was perplexing to my family why I seemed to like all the good foods but couldn't gain weight and wouldn't eat dinner meals. At 10, my mother, flustered by my skin and bones and refusal to eat suppers, finally took me to a doctor . My mother was concerned that there was something physically wrong with me, that I'd have to have tests done to find out why I couldn't gain weight, if there were problems I had with dinner foods, allergies and what not. Going...
October 12, 2004
It's strange, selling off bits of my home little by little. First all the junk went when I moved two months ago. More recently, a side table went to a lovely girl, shelving units went to a family, bookshelves to a man down the street. Slowly my home is becoming less a home and more just a building - and an empty one at that. When we made the decision to move we began to think of it in terms of starting over. Five years ago we packed up a very old, sad little Toyota with a few of our belongings (I only owned books and some clothes; he brought not much more) and drove from his home clear across the country to Seattle where we moved into a very tiny studio with absolutely nothing. No money, no jobs and no furniture. Five years later, we had built-up a little something but it still wasn't quiet right. First, we've moved five times within the same area which hasn't helped us to feel connected to any one place. Also he, so busy with everything and I, held up writing in my flat, haven't really meet people here (which was alright as I must confess Seattle people bug the bejesus out of us - especially the women. So competitive, bitchy - meow!). Also, lifestyle wise this area doesn't rack it up for us. It's very corporate, one-way of being, not so creative, not a lot happens (the downtown area with the...
October 04, 2004
It was about a month ago I discovered the most perfect job for me. It combined my love of writing, creativity and people with the structure of a job and being paid regularly. It was in a field I adore (entertainment) for a company I totally respect and would love to work for. It would allow me to be me, wear outfits I like instead of pantsuits and use my creativity instead of stifle it. It all suited me to a T so I applied. A week later the phone rang and I couldn't get to the phone quick enough to answer. However, the caller didn't leave a message. When I checked out the number, it was the company for which I had applied. How strange, I thought, that they rang me but didn't leave a message. So I rang them to find out. Because I didn't know who to speak to, I had to talk to several different people in HR. Finally one fellow told me to call back in an hour after he investigated what happened. I did and was later told it was a mistake. I wasn't meant to be called. There was no job. Better luck next time. That should have been the end of it but it wasn't. I knew this job was for me. So I wrote up a follow-up letter telling me that although I was disappointed in not being chosen, that it really solidified my belief that this is what I am...
September 18, 2004
It looks as though my mountain retreat will have to wait as it's been decided today to go to Los Angeles tomorrow - by car. Things are happening in beautiful, magical ways. It started when I decided to listen for answers instead of just always asking questions. I had forgotten how to be still, to wait, to trust. These last several years in America I've always felt that I had to move, make things happen, control. It got me no where. So instead, I visualised what I wanted and when I wanted it to happen and then offered a little effort combined with a lot of listening for clues. And here I am. Heading off tomorrow to find out how real it will all be....
September 08, 2004
So then, my life as a girl wearing ass-crack jeans begins. It should be noted that the last time I wore jeans was back in the eighties when they were light and zipped up to your breasts. Yes, that would be enough to frighten anyone from wearing them ever again. I've come to accept that my strengths lie in skirts (short or knee length), and a rather lovely pair of soft, baggy mustard type pants from my favourite store. I realised that I can do pretty and cute but always thought hip was someone else. This was solidified after I was in San Francisco and had just purchased a sweet pale blue sweater from Anthropologie. It was charming, pretty even. No way was it hip. That is, until Andrea put it on, over here bright orange pants and purple tank top with pigtails to match. She made it hip, not I. At that moment I decided I was never going to be hip. Even when a friend later on told me I could be and on a vacation to Vancouver (at a hip hotel - I can do hip hotels) she took my hand and lead me into a jeans store. There my thirty year old ass tried on 42 pairs of jeans amongst 20 year old asses. It wasn't pretty. Nothing looked right and after two and a half hours my friend said, "Yes Alex, I don't think you can do hip." Exactly what my style is I couldn't...
September 07, 2004
Saturday brought the first fall-like day and I found myself at the fish ladder - a man-made passage for salmon to pass from the Pacific Ocean into Lake Washington. And although I had been there before, this would be the first time I understood the salmon's journey. The ladder is an in-between place, a sort of resting spot. It�s where the salmon literally catch their breath as they learn to adjust their breathing from the ocean's saltwater to the lake's fresh. While they rest here, their body is slowly changing to prepare them for their next stage of their life. It is here they take time to change. I understand. I'm in my own resting place at the moment; catching my breath as I move from one place to the next. And while I'm going through my own transformation of sorts, the site will be down for fall. I will, however, keep posting photos intermittently to Flickr. Though not to worry. It will come back, when I've adjusted and am ready to once again swim in un-chartered waters. (If you'd like to know when, click here)....
September 01, 2004
This morning when I woke and climbed out of bed, I felt a cold floor for the first time in months. The living area and kitchen were cool too, from breezes coming in through the window. On my walk to the post I had to wear a light sweater and when I stopped at my favourite birch trees the bark was peeling rapidly. Even at the weekly market the flowers had gone from bright pinks and yellows to deep reds and orange. It's fall....
August 01, 2004
I couldn't tell you exactly when it was, what I was wearing, why I was there, my exact age (perhaps around 11, I think) or the season. What I can tell you, however, was that until then, I had never seen such a beautiful site. Trees with such green leaves and such bright fruit and ground that matched. What this all was, I did not know so I asked my father who blankly he told me they were apricot trees which lined the property of the old woman we were visiting. When I asked what one did with apricots, he told me you just ate them, like a peach. He didn't think anything of it, but I did. He left me outside while he went in to discuss business with the woman. As soon as he was out of site I ran towards one of the prettiest trees and stood there for a moment - a little unsure, a little excited - and then I reached up on my tiptoes to pick an apricot. It was love at first bite. I laid myself down on the ground, surrounded by apricots and stared straight up into the tree, looking at its fruit and sometimes past it to the clear blue sky. I would put my arm out and search blindly for fruit on the ground (there was so many, it was an easy search) and for the next hour I did nothing but eat apricots and in between say, "I...
June 30, 2004
It's a little after 5am and I'm sitting in the sunroom although there is currently no sun. Instead, there are clouds and a wind rustling through the trees, which lets me know a spring storm, is brewing; the water on the lake confirms this. Nevertheless, I have the window open; to hear the birds, hear the wind, feel the breeze. To keep myself warm I've wrapped around me a very old blanket made by my great aunt in Denmark. It's hand stitched with thousands of little squares sewn into flowers. After years of hinting at how much I would love to have the blanket, my mother finally gave in and sent it to me (because now, she thought, I was settled enough to care for it). Look after it, she said, which for her meant hanging it nicely somewhere safe. However, to me it meant wrapping it around myself when feeling small. Since I was a little girl, this blanket has felt like a huge, warm hug. Its softness comes from being wrapped around others for years, and, combined with the weight of it, feels like they're still somehow there. When I was young and afraid of storms, I'd wrap the blanket around me. The colours and pattern were protective, I believed. When I was ill or having one of many surgeries, the blanket was a comfort and a healer. When I was upset with being teased at school or having a pet die, the blanket somehow made me...
June 21, 2004
Today whilst walking downtown, a homeless man sitting on the side of a building sneezed. "Bless you," I said to him as I walked by. "M'am?" he called out to me and I turned around. "I ain't been blessed in a mighty long time. Lord knows I needed that. I feel a little hope comin' on." I smiled at him and he smiled a wide grin back....
June 09, 2004
The number one question I'm asked (and I'm asked it all the time) is where I'm from. I wish I knew, but I don't. I don't have a hometown, a house I grew up in, a country I belong to. I'm some kind of vegabond. This used to be a wonderful thing to me, but lately it has me feeling lost. As a child we moved all the time, almost every year. My father was in real estate and so we'd purchase homes and move according to the market or the bank account. At 18 I set out to see the world - and I did. I've lived in flats, rooms, hotels, camp sites and almost anything else you can think of. I've never owned things because my life always had to fit into a suitcase. Even in the last five years I've lived in 5 places and I'm tired. My current home, well, we'll be leaving it soon too. Where to? I'm not sure. California for a year or to Paris or even Zurich. I'm feeling the need to be settled but it just doesn't look like it'll happen anytime soon. I think this is why I am often jealous of photographs of people sitting in their yard, or pulling things out of their closet they've had stored for 5 years. People who buy good peices of furniture because they know they'll have it for years to come instead of buying disposable IKEA. From my favourite magazines I tare...
May 09, 2004
Tonight at 5PM I called the bus to reserve and pay for a seat on the last shuttle from Vancouver down to Seattle. They took my credit card information and gave me a confirmation to hand to the driver. At 7:35pm, 5 minutes before the bus was to leave, I listened to the driver argue with two students and their mother. They didn't have proper student ID to board the bus on their pre-paid student fares. Despite showing birth certificates that said they were school aged, the driver was to have none of it. I shuffled back on forth on my feet, then looked up to the sky waiting for the argument to pass, it did. Then it was my turn. He asked for my last name. "Beauchamp," I said. Neither of us could locate it on his printout of reservations. "It's not there," he said in his very thick Indian accent. "That's a very bad sign." "Try this confirmation number," I encouraged. He couldn't find that either. "I made the reservation at 5PM" I said, "perhaps it didn't get printed in time." "This," he said in a very serious tone, "is the latest data. The very latest data. This fax came to me at 6:30PM. I am the driver and this is the information I have which is the latest information. You are not on the current information." "No, the fax came in earlier," I said, noting the 3:51 time stamp on the fax. "and I called after this...
April 29, 2004
I wrote an email to KEXP, one of the most fabulous radio stations ever (and it streams via the internet as well) to see if somehow, I could get permission for Chris to see Air play live in their studio today. My email was rather cheeky though terribly sincere. It said: Is it possible to see Air playing at your studio? I've been trying to win tickets for my oh so deserving and simply dreamy husband but to no avail. I could tell you a million stories as to why he should see them but I don't want to overwhelm a little email space. He doesn't take up much room, you could tuck him away in a corner even. He's well behaved! He's just been so fantastic and so deserving of anyway to see them. If you can help, that would be lovely. To my surprise, Cheryl from the station wrote me back and said, "Come down today at 2:15." We were there at 2. We sat in the recording booth with the engineer and three other people and that was it. We watched Air play but what was most interesting was all that they said. It's my understanding that they don't do a lot of radio interviews or performances and, when doing interview, don't actually talk that much. But they answered all the questions with so much thought and information, that for Chris, that was the real treat because it was answers to questions he had about his own...
March 26, 2004
The day was cold and wet and my task list very long so I was happy when I could finally settle in for the night. I opened up one of the tins of tea that I just purchased and was so enamoured with the beauty of the artwork and packaging and the smell of the Vanilla Rooibos. But what also charmed me was the little saying that they enclosed on a card. It read: "T (the company) embodies our freedom to choose the very best for ourselves. Through the act of making a cup of tea and taking a moment to appreciate its aroma before taking a sip, we learn to value the simple luxuries of life. By recognizing art and beauty in everyday life, we find harmony with our world and disocver that peace can be found in a teacup." Yes, it's a company trying to promote the drinking of their tea but this philosophy is something I so completely believe in. That the little things are so what matter. The being content with a moment of just sipping tea or smelling it's aroma, well, that's beautiful to me. So is the choosing the very best for ourselves, which we sometimes don't think we can do. I remember speaking to my friend Andrea about this, about how I will indulge myself in good things though I don't buy a lot of things. For example, I will buy a skirt at my favourite store which costs quite a bit but...
March 15, 2004
At 19 I laid in the hospital, just having had my 7th surgery in 10 years. This time, the doctor took a rather large bit of bone from my hip and infused it into my right ankle. The pain I felt was unlike any pain I had ever had; it was intolerable. When I mentioned this to the nurse, she took out a huge needle and stabbed my right thigh. Each time I mentioned the pain, she�d once again stab my thigh with pain killers. Several days of this kept me in a head funk and also keep me groggy. I remember looking down at my thighs which were swollen, bruised and severely pricked from so much pain killer and being disgusted with what I saw. I�d been living in a daze, full of drugs, trying to ignore what the pain was trying to tell me: something was wrong I had to work through it instead of continuously ignoring it. You see, there was a blood pack and tubing attached to my hip and my side wasn�t closed completely yet this caused me very little discomfort. My ankle, on the other hand, was a nightmare. The pain was there for a reason and I couldn�t numb it. I had to work through it. The next time the nurse asked if it hurt and I said yes, I stopped her before she could inject me and I told her, �I am in a lot of physical pain and it�s not normal.�...
February 23, 2004
This month has been all about opposites; there have been so many painful, frustrating moments amidst the most beautiful and happiest. There were days of feeling so vivacious whilst at the same time being violently ill. There was knowing absolutely what I am going to do, where I�m going to live and how I want to be but being absolutely unsure and fragile about those exact same things. I think that�s life. It�s always full of confusion and clarity, ugliness and beauty, pain and joy. The trick to surviving, to having hope, I think, is knowing in which to believe....
January 29, 2004
I often think myself rich because of the little luxuries I indulge myself in. Things such as putting my oversized terry robe in the dryer in the morning and then wearing it all warm as soon as it comes out. Making a fort in the lounge area, having the window slightly cracked and listening to the rain pelt against the roof. Watching the woodpecker, chickadee and flinches eat on my balcony. Walking for an hour on a sunny day. Carefully arranging three bouquets of tulips in a little vase he bought me (and also the first gift he gave me) six years ago. Browsing through new books. Hot chocolate at midnight. Reading magazines in bed under a fluffy duvet. Painting for an hour in the afternoon, just because. A new pen and journal. Seeing Robins and feeling hopeful about Spring. Buying a fabulous little pin for my jacket. Eating a pain au chocolate whilst window shopping. Afternoon naps. Taking a late night bath in a tub that�s filled with wonderful bath products. A pale yellow mini skirt from my favourite store. Writing a travel newsletter at dawn. A date at the caf� which involves a caf� au lait and pie. These things, while simple, give me so much satisfaction and cost little and better yet, are always easy to do. And while doing them, I always think to myself, this is the good life....
January 17, 2004
I have, for the past month, been doing something rather unusual; I�ve been planning out my birthday. All previous birthdays have always been very simple, never once involving a party or a cake, even as a child. Instead, until my mid-teens, my father would take me into the city by bus where, for the full day, we walked around in our fine clothes, learning about history, looking through windows of shops, and having a fancy lunch somewhere. There was never any external fanfare about me or my birthday but I always felt special just the same. As an adult I continued this tradition on my own; always taking the day off from work, dressing up and heading into the city for some browsing, high tea or lunch, and perhaps a movie and a glass of wine in the evening to top it off. But next month, on February 17th to be exact, I�ll be turning a monumental number which I�ve decided is call for a bit of an indulgence. After spending a couple of weeks in Provence, my little birthday routine will be jazzed up just a little. There will still be the dressing up, the heading into the city, the fantastic meal and the gazing through shop windows. However, this year, the city will be Paris. I chose to take a little trip instead of having my first birthday party with friends for two opposite reasons. Because I believe in the celebration, the simpleness, the self-indulgence of enjoying yourself...
January 06, 2004
Everyone has been talking about the storm that would arrive today and generally the tone used has been one of annoyance; only the school children and I seem to think getting a day off is good. So when the snow struck and covered the city in white, I was happy as it would offer new ways to look at the same old things while on my daily walk. Bundled in my wool coat and hat, scarf wrapped tightly and mittens on, I walked outside in 5� of snow, even sliding a little down the hill because it just looked like so much fun. I noticed how beautiful the trees looked with white laying heavy on them, how many robins were out and how often they called to one another (most likely wanting to know where the goods were). I saw a ridiculous looking poodle looking even more ridiculous in booties, hat and shawl but jumping rather happily in the snow just the same. When I came to the lake, I saw a fabulous scene � made prettier by the fact that the only sound around was that of softly falling snow. I whipped out my camera to photograph what it was I saw. While doing so, a man walked by me and said, �Why are you taking a picture? You can�t see anything?� To which I replied, �You can always see something if you choose to look.� He didn�t hear my reply because he was on his power walk somewhere,...
January 04, 2004
At eleven, my fifth grade teacher ruthless tore up in front of the class a beautiful drawing I had done, citing that tracers talentless fools had no place in her room. At thirteen I had my third ankle surgery (one on the left, two on the right) and my doctor said, �What a shame. You used to have such pretty little feet. Now, they�ll always be ugly.� Age eighteen led me into a hair salon where, for the first time in my life, my curly hair was blown dry straight. Everyone in salon ooh and ahh�d, saying how I finally looked nice with sleek hair and should never go back to curly. From each of those moments on, I never though I was an artist, I never thought my feet could be pretty, and I never went a day with curly hair. Last spring I was waiting at the bus stop and decided to take off my shoes for a moment to get rid of some rocks that had become lodge underneath. Sitting there barefoot for the first time in public, two women came by to also wait for the bus. One woman looked down at my feet and said, �Oh, how I wish I had your pretty little feet� to which her friend agreed. When I got on the bus, I sat and stared at my feet. The scars had long faded and were hardly noticeable anymore and in fact, my feet were pretty. That afternoon I stopped by...
December 28, 2003
This move has taught me several things. The first is that having friends is really a wonderful thing, especially if they are strong and can be bought with baguettes and tea. The second is that even if it's your 22nd move since you were 18, it doesn't get easier, especially when you have furniture. And the third thing is has taught me is that if you want something but it seems unattainable and even a little scary, go after it. You can get it with some dreaming, some haggling and by putting one foot in front of the other. Happy New Year - I'll be offline constructing my new flat, fixing my new office and lounging on lots of floor space. (Thank-you, Santa. I do believe.)...
December 19, 2003
It started four Christmases ago by accident; I had just finished up some Christmas baking and was craving milk, something we don�t keep in the house. We were both lazy and tired but the milk craving was strong so we decided to walk to the store to get some. I stepped out onto the balcony to determine how many layers of clothing I�d need to wear when I saw boat after boat going by our flat. And not just any boats; boats with Christmas lights. We headed outside and were met by dozens of people, all walking a fast paced. We decided to follow them, not knowing what was going on. We walked along the water, a little faster than all the boats. Just two blocks away, at the beach, was a huge gathering of people around a bonfire. There was a huge ship in front, surrounded by dozens of tiny ones. Then it started. People onboard the largest ship sang Christmas songs for over half an hour as everyone on shore sang along, loudly and badly. We forgot about the milk that night, but it started a new tradition for us. Four years later, we�re still living on the lake, still waiting for the ships to pass our flat, still walking to the beach to hear them as we sing along loudly and badly. Over the past few years I�ve been dropping traditions I no longer care for or find useful. I don�t want to do things on autopilot;...
December 08, 2003
On Friday night I checked into a hotel, looking forward to a little comfort, peace and quiet. What I got, however, was completely different; there was little comfort, lots of noise and no sleep. Saturday morning, dishevelled completely, I rang a friend in town to tell her my tragic tale. She told me I could stay in her guest room and not to worry. I�d never been to her home before, nor had I seen any photos which made walking into it that more dramatic. It was everything my flat was not; large with walls painted in soft shades of pink, lavender, blue and yellow. There were flowery curtains everywhere as well as little sweet lampshades that could have come from my favourite store, Anthropolgie. Huge, soft, oversized couches, a fireplace, magazines all over, wall hangings galore, dried flowers. It was something straight out of Victoria Magazine and I was in-love. The cosiness of this home felt so much better than my minimalist, Ikea/Danish filled flat that had bold red, brown/green and blue/grey walls and clean walls. That night, I slept in her guest bed, under a canopy of pink and I thought how shabby my home was next to this. How unspecial it was and how I couldn�t provide such hospitality because I wouldn�t know how to put a home together like this one. Although I adore pink more than any girl I know, I�m not so good at being girly, especially when it comes to decorating and matching...
December 04, 2003
I just finished up the last of my 32 Christmas cards I�ll be sending out this year. Each one was hand made and a personal note scribbled inside. It�s a tradition I do every year and one I not only enjoy, but look forward to. This despite the fact that I�ll most likely not get more than three Christmas cards back. Some people wonder why I make such a deal with the cards when I almost never get any in return. What is the value, they ask? The value, I think, is not so much in the giving, but in how I feel in the doing. And I feel very happy to sit, create, write, stamp, address and mail. A lot of people assume that I must receive a tonne of cards, gifts, notes and so forth but the truth is, I don�t. I think there is an expectation that one does things for things but the truth is there is very little I do that offers a return. If getting something was reason to continue, then I should have given up long ago. However, I keep writing cards, web sites, volunteering, donating, saying hullo to dogs, being kind because I love to do it. It�s my indulgence, my pleasure. I think a lot of people always ask �what�s in it for me� when they do something and sometimes, this is a very useful thing to ask. But the truth is, there is a lot of things in life one...
November 19, 2003
Yesterday I was busy running errands all over and as I was leaving one place for another, I decided to stop into a cafe� for a latte and piece of cake. As I sat down to devour my afternoon treats it suddenly struck me how grown-up it was that I could decide I wanted something and could have it. As a child, my wants and needs were only met if it coincided with that of my parents. If we ran errands and I was in need of a little pick me up, getting it would only happen if they felt there was time or money for such a thing. Now, however, I have the luxury of choice. I think about a few weeks ago when, for dinner, I made a pink cake. The freedom to do that is almost absurd. How luck am I, as a grown up, to not only have choices, but to recognise that? I think it sometimes becomes rather easy to think how hard it is to be responsible or grownup but that�s because I think one forgets all the benefits, the biggest being that of making our own decisions....
October 27, 2003
Today was such a Monday; bad and annoying in many ways. It got off to a bad start and just kept going. After a day of being out and dealing with the world, I came home completely dishevelled. Instead of trying to fight all that had happened, I just gave in. In fact, I crumpled. Not wanting to cook dinner, talk to anyone or pay attention to anything I decided to do what anyone in my situation should do. I wallowed. I popped the Blind Boys of Alabama CD in and let that become my soothing soundtrack for the night. I then decided to make my favourite butter cream double cake for dinner as the process of baking relaxes me; the measuring, the whipping, and the mixing by hand releases aggression. When I got to the last bit of making the butter cream pink, I was at ease (one always becomes rather at ease when pink is involved). By the end of the CD, I had finished baking and several cups of sweet tea and somehow, things seemed better. Not perfect, not easy, just better. Working things out, trying to be above, ignoring bad situations, these are all good things to do but sometimes, giving into the mess you feel like is also good, it helps you get over it. I always declare when I�m cranky as it tends to make it pass faster, just as it did tonight....
May 04, 2003
It was on a Christmas day that I came up with my plan; I was no longer going to buy gifts that people didn't need just for the sake of it. I would no longer shop in malls, buy trinkets or gadgets and wrap something up for the sake of holiday. Instead, I decided that I would give the gift of time and since that Christmas, that's exactly what I've done. My flirty hair friend's birthday is just two days before mine, and I told her for her birthday she would get the gift of time from me, and that's what I wanted in return from her. This lead us to spending taking a day trip into Vancouver, British Columbia where we had massages at a swank spa, followed by afternoon tea. We spent the day dishing, relaxing and enjoying each others company; it was the best birthday gift ever. With mother's day approaching, I told my mum that I would give her the gift of time. She said she wanted to visit with me and spend time together. This means we'll have a weekend of catching up, hitting nurseries, playing in IKEA and sitting in far too many cafes. I mentioned this idea to my father, whose birthday is shortly and he thought it fantastic. I offered him the gift of time as well and that anything he wanted to do together, we'd do. Without hesitation, he replied, "Horsefly!" which is this small, not on the map hick town...
March 31, 2003
The weekend was spent regrouping. I followed the wise words of Katherine Mansfield and ruthless tore up papers and felt better for doing so. So today I rewarded myself for my hard work and frantic week by brewing a cup of tea in my new teapot , while sitting outside in light weather on a beautiful wooden loveset while watching the sun set on the lake and taking the time to do nothing more than sit and sip. I generally give myself Mondays off which allows me a few moments of calm. It also gives me time to indulge in personal projects that I never feel I have the time for. Projects such as catching up on my photography, working on sites, painting. I was encouraged to start on my journals when my "Mini Guide to making Artist's Journals" arrived today. Keri Smith has designed and made these fabulous hand sewn books (only 100!) and her guidance along with my calm state allowed me to start to recreate in new areas. I'm a simple girl. I don't have cable television, I don't have a stereo system, I don't have fifteen pairs of shoes. I have all that I need with a few bonuses which makes me able to enjoy a quiet, simple day such as today. It's enough, this life....
March 11, 2003
I went for one reason, and came home with another; a sign of a good trip. It was spent dishing with a friend, discovering new tea and meeting fabulous people (especially those who cheered at the awards show, sat with us at the award show, and took us to dinner after said award show). I didn't realise until the flight home all that had happened and really, all that I had done. Had someone told me that I would design a site that would be able to compete with huge companies filled with developers and designers, I would have laughed. It's still surreal, three days later. Although I didn't win in my category, I got the most cheers and that meant a lot. It felt good to be proud of something I did and not because it was up for an award, but because it actually does something for people. As trite as it can sound, it was enough to be nominated. But coming home, that's not what was on my mind. What was was the new idea that gave me goosebumps in the cafe, the promise of a new project, the friendship of one hell of a girl, the possibility of being home, personal discoveries and the memories of a trip gone by. Oh, and how I'm going to catch up on sleep....
March 05, 2003
One of the troubles of having lived in four different English speaking countries: I was searching my Roget's International Thesaurus for alternatives to the word "cosy," only to discover they don't have the word cosy. After twenty minutes, I figure out they spell it the American way of coZy. International my ass....
March 03, 2003
Ten years ago, I was a nineteen year old girl living in Queenstown, New Zealand. I spent my days surfing the waves with boys with dirty blonde hair and big egos and the nights sharing stories and dreams with friends. Life was good; I had no worries. Then one day, for no reason at all, I felt the need to return to Wellington New Zealand to where my friends lived. I spent most of the day traveling by train and ferry and an hour after my arrival at the house, I got a call that I�ll never forget. It was my father telling me that my brother in-law had died that morning. I immediately went into shock, dropped the phone and wandered the house for the parents of my friend. I needed someone to hold me and tell me everything would be alright � even though I knew it wouldn�t be. Luckily, the parents were there to talk to me and help me make last minute arrangements to get to Vancouver, Canada where my sister and my late brother in law were living. I remember at the airport the check-in people told me in was a sold out flight and when I heard the word flight, I broke into tears. When the lady asked me why and I told her, she said, �You cry, you need to. We�ll look after you.� She put me in first class and the attendants throughout the fifteen hour flight would come and sit with...
February 19, 2003
Years ago, my mum gave handed over to me her Kodak Junior Six-16, a camera that was sold between 1935-37 for about $12. In perfect condition, I was in such awe of this camera that I let it sit for years on my shelf or in a box; the thought of using it seemed ridiculous. Use such an old, amazing camera? To take photographs? The thought! Yet today I pulled it out and began my search for Kodak 616 film so that I could use it. Having something just for the sake of sitting doesn't go well with me, everything has to have a use. Just looking at something to say I can look at it, what's the fun in that?...
January 24, 2003
I believe that this is it. This is Heaven. Now, I'm not a religious girl by any means nor do I hold belief in Heaven or Hell (despite cheekiness in previous post) but I do believe that living here on earth, is as good as it gets. That frightens people, I understand. But it bothers me when someone dies and people say, "They've gone to a better place." Let's assume that there is a Heaven, a Heaven with no war, only good, kind people, no problems and fluffy rabbits to pet at every turn. If that was your eternal life - doing the same, happy, beautiful thing every day without feeling (because you'd just be happy and content) - don't you think at some point that would just completely bore the shite out of you? It would me. Despite the fact that some days suck a little more than others, that sometimes I whack my knee against the cupboard and have a painful bruise for two weeks, that sometimes the bone disease that I have stiffens me up so much I can't walk, that sometimes I get overwhelmed, I still find this life to be absolutely amazing and I go so far to call it my Heaven. Take Pollyanna out of this equation and instead measure in the fact that we have choices, we have emotions, we can do things, change things, be things. We can go from lows to highs - how exciting is that? Everything in life isn't...
January 09, 2003
There's a lot of things I've been doing lately - reading far too many books at once, discovering latte's, healing dying plants, chatting up friends on the phone, working, designing, napping. But one thing I've been doing more than any other is creating. It began with a fascination over Dawn's Life Uncommon page, which is not only incredibly beautiful but smart. She captures the world so amazingly with her camera; it leaves me in awe and wanting more. Never have I so eagerly gone on-line looking for updates. I think why I'm so in love with her work is because it's on a platform that I can do and am now doing once again, thanks to her and some words from my best-friend. Although I was always the girl who carried her camera around, I had grown lazy over the past several years. The laziness then turned into fear which became a sore spot for me, especially last fall when I had taken a writing break and wanted to start being creative in other ways. But before each attempt I would freak out and say, "I can't do this. I am not an artist." My best-friend Emily, an accomplished artist who is completely natural and nonchalant about all her talents, gave me a great kick in the ass when she (unknowingly) emailed me some advice: "Threre are a few things I'm not that great at but at least I try before I say "I wish I could do that" That...
December 16, 2002
Before I sign off for the Holidays, I'd like to leave you with a little moment that I saw take place. In the mall there was a boy of about seven who was dressed in his Sunday best. He was walking very fast towards Santa's house, repeating over and over in a very serious and determined tone, "there he is, there he is, there he is." When he was almost there he yelled very proudly, "Santa, I'm here!" as if Santa had been expecting him. I thought of that boys journey to see Santa and how important it must have been to him. That moment made me smile and for a second, I had a little bit of wonder in me too. Was Santa really expecting him? I'll never know for sure but I'd like to think so. After all, the holidays are magical if you let them be. I wish for you a smile or two, a hug, some tea, a moment of mystery. I also wish you warm holidays and lots of gorgeous moments. I'll see you in 2003....
September 22, 2002
I'm two degrees from Kevin Bacon. This makes you three. Discuss....
September 18, 2002
My current need for nesting is based on a few factors: it’s turning into fall and becoming cold and windy outside, I’m twenty-eight, I’m overwhelmed, and I haven’t spent a full month at home in over a year. I’ve stocked up on tea, lush bath products (and the ever faithful, Mr. Bubble), picked up several books to read, purchased an oversized fleece throw for cold days and pulled out all my French Jazz CD’s. I’m ready. The only problem is, is I just got rid of company, only to receive more. I have parties to go to, trips to make and a volunteer program to start. I’m all over the place and it doesn’t look like it’ll settle down until December – just in time for Christmas. Somehow, I’ve got to get control. I’ve got to learn that there is time for everything – just not at once....
September 13, 2002
From an interesting article on Canada's Prime Minister: "Mr Chretien said in a documentary filmed by Canadian broadcaster CBC that the West was "looked upon as being arrogant, self-satisfied and greedy and with no limits" and "The 11th of September is an occasion for me to realise it even more." With the media trying to say what it thinks the people want to hear, and the people feeding off the media and thinking it's what they need to say, it's really refreshing to see some non-american media coming out that actually goes against the flag waving, we haven't done anything wrong and you have mentality....
August 27, 2002
I'm going home until mid-September. I'll swing by my old flat and stomping grounds, hug old friends, stay in romantic lodges, ride a horse through the mountains, sit in the hotsprings, hike familiar trails, frolic in fall and kiss down by the river. And I'll try to come back....
June 22, 2002
When I was 16, I waved goodbye to my friend as she road her bike home from school. She was going to call me later to discuss math notes I didn't understand. She never did and I was angry until I learned next day in school that she had been hit by a car on her bike ride home and was killed instantly. At 23 I was living a carefree life in New Zealand when my father rang to tell me my brother in law was killed in a sky diving accident. It wasn't until years later that I found out that my sister was with him at the drop zone where he worked, told him she loved him, kissed him goodbye and went to get him food as he took students up for a tandem dive. When she came back 1/2hr later, he was dead. Three weeks ago, my mum called my great uncle to see how he was doing. Fine he told her, in fact, lets get together for lunch. My mum told him that was a good idea. Little did she know that only 4 hours later he'd hang himself in the basement and she'd never see him again. Death is something I think about a lot. I don't live in fear of it because I've had so many people in my life pass away that I've just accepted that death is what happens. But I'm conscious about it more than perhaps I should be. Aware that...
May 21, 2002
I, like everyone else, try to do so much. Sometimes I kick ass and sometimes, well, not so much. This week has been filled with the not so much. I'm confused and overloaded, so many projects going on yet not enough. There's no direction, no concrete floor to stand on, I feel sometimes as though I'm sinking in the middle of nowhere. I dream big, maybe too big. I still believe in the magic, in a wink, and the warm summer nights. I want to play, feel free and not worry so much if what I do is right or wrong. It's scary, sometimes to feel this way. To question everything and want more when I have so much. Maybe it's not a question of wanting more, but just wanting what feels right. I'm not sure what does, I've been trying on so many shoes yet one still has to fit. There's got to be some kind of art program for me to work in somewhere, a magazine to pay me a dollar or two and someone willing to have tea on a sunny afternoon. I suppose, I've got to be willing to look for it, and I will. Just maybe not today....
April 15, 2002
When I was 9 years old, I was sent to a Childrens Hospital in the city, over an hour from my home. I was to have my first surgery and remain in the hospital for a few days. My parents couldn't come and visit me due to the distance and work, so I was alone for my hospital stay. I had arrived early in the morning to begin lots of tests which were long and painful but I never complained once, though I hated every test and was afraid of all the needles. Afterwards was shown my room which housed 3 other children, who all had their parents around constantly. That night as I went to bed, one of the boys in the room was still crying and screaming, just as he had been all day. I remember his mother trying to soothe his head and nurses coming in and out offering him popsicles and looking after him. I remember being so jealous of this boy and feeling very alone. Awhile later, a nurse came to me to give me some medication I needed before the surgery. She asked me how I was doing and I just looked at her, not sure what to say. "What's the matter?" she asked me really softly. "I'm angry" I replied. "At what?" "That sadness and pain is only recognised in people who cry. Sometimes you can be silent and be very very sad." I remember the nurse just looking at me and then...
March 01, 2002
Yesterday I met with my docent class from the art museum and we were introducing ourselves to others. Of course, people used labels instead of telling us who they really were: I'm a mother, I'm a housewife, I'm retired, I'm a teacher, I'm an office worker. I didn't know anything more about them from what they said. What made them tick, were they funny, were their hearts passionate, did they love? Their labels didn't tell me that. When it was my turn I said, "I'm Alex. I'm foreign, I swoon, and I terrorise little dogs with my mittens!" I showed them my mittens, which are made of wool and have faces and a bright red tongue sticking out between the thumb and fingers. Everyone laughed, and everyone got who I was; a cheeky git who at twenty eight didn't care about wearing silly mittens because laughter was more important....
February 19, 2002
Sometimes learning that anything really is possible can come from something as simple as a fish out of water. I came home after an hours walk and proceeded to make lunch and do some writing. Twenty minutes passed before I made my way into the living room where I saw the mess and screamed. The cat had managed somehow to knock the fish bowl over, onto the floor, despite the fact the fish bowl was high on a shelf in the corner. The bowl was laying on the side, gravel was everywhere and my poor fish was just laying on the carpet. There was maybe two inches of water left in the bowl and I quickly put the fish in there, and surprise of surprise, the bugger started to move. I quickly moved him to a small cup, cleaned his bowl, gave him new water, waited ten minutes and put him in. To my amazement, he survived the whole ordeal and has even been sassying me during feeding. I'll never know how he survived the fall, laying there on the carpet for I don't know how long, and possibly a cat swiping him once or twice. But he did. He's one brave and tough little fish. Good thing I called him Badass....
February 06, 2002
He asked me if I had any questions. "Will I be able to taste the cake on my birthday on the 17th?" "We hope so. Anything else?" "Yes, please don't fuck this up." And then I was out. The surgery went well he said and the part of my jaw he had to remove came out, and I'm now on the road to healing. My face is swollen more than any chipmunks, I'm slowly learning to speak again and so far, my sense of taste hasn't come back. Which, is actually a good thing considering all the mush I must eat....
January 31, 2002
On the same day I learned a friend of mine was pregnant, I also learned a friend of mine had just been killed in an avalanche during a holiday she had won. That, I suppose, is how life just works....
January 26, 2002
Maybe it's because I'm twenty-eight next month and comfortable enough with myself that I dont find it hard to say I'm in on a Saturday night and not feel like one of those people. Or maybe it's because I'm in Seattle where there is, in fact, nothing to do on a Saturday night. And if there were, everyone would be home by now, anyway. I spent most of the evening catching up on email, all 52 people written back. Except for him. I don't know why. Things are quiet. I hesitate to say 'sweet' as I fear looking like a girl. But they are. I'm spending my time this weekend recuperating from the last week and gearing up all the work I need to do come Monday, and the trip I have to take come Friday. For now, it's just me and a Saturday night....
June 30, 2001
Anais Nin once said, "The effort to live never wore one out as much as the effort not to." This past week I have gotten over my pitiful stage and just gone full force ahead with living. It's amazing how much easier life is when I'm not trying to fight it all or remain in a cocoon of insecurity. Even though I'm sitting in a massive mess, surrounded by boxes, living between two apartments, driving all over the place to pick up goods I need, calling people to change services, updating accounts, dealing with a broken middle finger (don't ask) and everything thing else that life has, I'm actually not stressed, cranky, or angry that I have to deal with all of this. I'm actually feeling pretty ok. In fact, I've been more alive and creative the past few days and have been acting some of my artistic wants rather than keeping them in my head. I took one of my sad looking old wooden chairs, stripped, sanded and then painted it a bright raspberry colour. I even felt cheeky enough to paint on the chair the words, "Princess of Everything." I've kept up on my photography by not only taking pictures but reading photographic books and exploring art around town. I finally felt creative and relaxed enough to lay on the floor and put pen to paper and write my friends the colourful, juicy, long letters that I love writing. I've been gathering ideas for decorating and setting up...
June 17, 2001
The landlord announced that she was going to show our flat today at 1pm. I didn't want to be around and hear somehow critique or gush at our apartment. In fact, I didn't want to think of anyone living in my home. So I decided that since it was a rare sunny warm day, I would walk to the bakery, grab a doughnut and sit at the beach for an hour and take a break. At the beach, I unloaded my towel and laid on my stomach, my legs bent up at the knee. I had a book in one hand and in the other was the biggest doughnut ever. Unaware of others around me, I enjoyed my break at the beach. But when I looked up, I noticed a girl of around twenty looking at me. I looked away but I could tell she was still staring at me. Finally, I couldn't take it. "What!?" I said to her. "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't know I was staring. I wasn't staring at you or anything." She said. She looked a little embarrassed then added, "Actually, I was staring at that doughnut. Is it good?" Surprised, I answered with a grin, "It's the best one I've had today." She smiled back. "You can get them at the bakery just across from here." I said to her. "Oh, no I don't want one." She replied. "From the looks of it I'd say you do," I said teasing back. "I can't have...
June 14, 2001
I keep trying to recall the last time I really played hooky. I think I did it a couple of years ago with Chris but I can't remember the last time I did it alone. I probably got the notion somewhere that playing hooky wasn't responsible and therefore avoided doing it. However, today, I decided that all that the world was currently giving me was too much. I had been working all night on my writing, I had spent most of yesterday packing and setting up numbers & electricity for our new flat. I've been calming nerves for all my friends and trying to keep the house in order for showings. The past month has been nonstop effort in managing everything, and this morning when I woke up to deal with it all again I just couldn't. I needed to sneak away from it all and for more than just an hour. I needed to play hooky for the whole day. The first order was to make myself some breakfast. I usually eat the same thing ever day but today I decided to experiment with my blender. Usually experimenting means worrying if someone else will like it, or the mess that I create while blending. But today, there was no one to know what I was doing, so I made this wonderfully scary looking concoction which actually didn't taste too bad. I then showered and decided to leave my hair wavy and free, because playing hooky means you just don't...
June 14, 2001
I'm am always amazed at how many people are so frightened to grow old. It seems to be especially frightening to Americans where they are youth obsessed. I don't fear aging. Sometimes I get a little bit nervous because all I know how to be is a young woman of 27. And then I think, well, that's all I should know because that's all I am. I think I have made it to 27 without fear of losing my youth because I am completely satisfied with all that I've done so far and all that I've become. And I don't compare with how I act to how other 27 year olds act. I act how I feel right now. I can't imagine being 30 and thinking, "well what does 30 feel like, how does 30 act, what does 30 look like?" and then try to act like an image of 30. Perhaps that's the secret right there. Perhaps aging is scary because you have visions of where you're supposed to be at 30 or 40. And perhaps you worry that if you're not doing what every other 30 or 40 year old is doing, then you must be on the wrong path. Or perhaps you think that aging means losing something in yourself. That you can't do as much as you could before, or you won't be worth as much as before. Perhaps 50 scares you because you think you won't be attractive to anyone and that at 60 you...
June 10, 2001
The past week has dealt with numerous things that can thwart all regular and logical behavior out the window -muminlaw from hell to deal with, Chris' birthday, flat hunting, trying to keep up with my writing, sorting out certain issues with the home, bill paying, friend catching up, this thing and that thing. Usually I can keep on top of everything, I have been known in a few circles as the multitasking goddess. But for some reason, I was getting lost in the pandemonium. I kept waiting for it to end or settle down. I kept waiting for the moment I could hear myself think a clear, crisp thought. I've tried in the midst of chaos to calm myself. I've tried tea, more tea, creme bruelee, walking, dancing loudly and wildly, standing in the rain soaking myself until I had to laugh at how awkward and silly I looked, relaxing music, more yoga than is normal for any human, and napping. Nothing has been working. Each day, there is something new to deal with despite the fact I still hadn't taken care of yesterday. I was frazzled, I felt stupid for not being able to deal with everything and I felt small. Something had to be done. I decided to try a bath, because they usually work, despite the fact they had failed me this past week. I ran the water and went to pour in Mr. Bubbles. Only I found that he was empty due to the fact this...