Potential New Apartment!!

The pictures aren't great, but I was being sneaky. Cross your fingers
for me!

Two Ones or One Nine

Cold here.
Cold and dark.
A soft glow has gone.

Press on, but it's not the same.
Lights don't dance for me.
The sky has changed.

Do you gaze like I do?
Pale face in the heavens.
Does it call to you?
Chilled tears alight on your face.
Could you know they're mine?

Tonight the sun burns out.
That look, will I see it again?
Sparkle and shine, between smiles.
Mirrored eyes, I see no regrets.

Questions half answered.
The truth or the lie?
A move in the darkness.
A pledge in the light.
An art in the silence.
A laugh, and a sigh.

A spiders thread.
Can it bind the unbound?

Move aside my subtle armor.
I'll destroy me if I must.
I'll adore me if I must.
I'll console me.

If I must.

Image courtesy of Matt Hoffman

Currently listening: Mad World By Gary Jules Release date: 12 January, 2004

Shoes and Ships and Sealing Wax

All ways are my way.

(Insert obligatory apology here. This may not make much sense.)

I've been doing far too much thinking lately... again. There are a few things I should be writing, which are not random myspace blogs full of angst, but instead I choose to spend the last half of my lunch today rambling about nothingness. You don't have to read it. You're the star of your own movie, all ways are your way.

I'm not sure where I'm going with this really. My head is so full of things swimming back and forth terrorizing me a snippet at a time.

My family. I love them, (Well, most of them. You know who you are.) but sometimes I just can't handle being the "strong" one anymore. I have these nuclear meltdowns that make me feel like I should abandon everyone and go live in a cave. I simultaneously love and hate the feeling of being needed by them. It's like, I'd gladly do anything to help them out, and I'm glad that they come to me when they need it, but at the same time, the emotional strain they place on me makes me feel like there's no way I'm a good choice for emotional support. Is it really possible to be strong enough for others when you feel so weak?

My friends. I really don't know what I'd do without my friends. When I get that "hide in a cave" feeling, I can almost guarantee you that one of the first five people I'd text or call would gladly listen to me cry and whine about nothing until I felt better. I'd do the same for any of them, in a heartbeat, so why do I feel guilty burdening my friends with my problems? I don't feel like its a burden to me to listen when they need it, why do I automatically assume it's a burden to them?

The real question: why are these two scenarios different? Why is it that I feel worn so thin sometimes after trying to help my family, but with friends I just feel glad to be able to listen and possibly help? Why is it that I would cry my eyes out to my mom at the drop of a hat (although not expect her to entirely understand) but it's a rare occasion for a friend to see me cry?

Then there's this other thing bothering me... They always say "When it rains, it pours." I find this to be true so often, and yet I never expect it, ever. There's this whole concept of "want" that I'm struggling with. Everybody wants to be wanted. Everybody, in some way. So what makes it different when its one person instead of another? Why is it that it matters who? Why does my brain determine that want from one angle would make me happy, but from another, it's totally creepy? Why does it always seem to be that the kind I want is the kind I probably won't ever have?

I keep so many secrets. It's sort of my nature to do so. So why does it make me feel so empty when I realize that nobody really knows me all that intimately? Even the longest relationship I've ever had... I can guarantee you there are plenty of things he didn't know about me, and still doesn't, because I wanted it that way. I distance myself on purpose. What is it that makes me so afraid to share things with people I trust? Maybe it's that I don't trust myself enough to determine who, outside of my head, is trustworthy enough? Does that even make any sense?

Why does any of it even matter? Why can't I talk myself out of having emotions? Maybe I should move to Africa and purify water for pot-bellied babies for the rest of my life.

Currently listening: Karma Police, CD 1 By Radiohead

Release date: 25 September, 2000

When You See It

You'll shit bricks...

Do what we must, because we can't.

Frustration.

Do you ever find yourself in a situation where if you could change one thing, you know exactly what you would do... but you can't change that thing so you have no idea what to do?

I hate the feeling that my hands are tied. I hate feeling like I can't do everything that I want to do for a friend. I hate it and I wish things didn't have to be this way.

I keep telling myself, someday this frustration will all be just a memory, but it's so difficult to make it through these days.

I can't get you off of my mind, and I can't stop hoping that you're okay, and I can't help feeling like crap because there's not really anything I can do. I think the only thing I actually can do is be here, so I'm here, and I hope you know that.

Currently listening: Brick By Ben Folds Five

More Paints

Finished another one. Don't know what I think of it really, but I guess I like it cause I don't hate it, and I don't want to give it away like I originally intended.

I think I'm not sure if I like the birds, I like everything else.

What do you think?

Again the colors don't translate well. The background color is pretty accurate, the trees don't have white spots on them, they're just shiny black paint, the moon is white with metallic silver accents and the birds are both metallic silver. It's 9" x 12" on canvas board. (Sorry Scotty P., I know you told me to do bigger ones so I did a smaller one...)

Currently listening: Standing Outside a Broken Phone Booth with Money in My Hand By Primitive Radio Gods

Easy Steps

Just as I expected, I finally get around to posting this and I have no idea what the heck it's about.

First -- books which I will write to become famous:

Bob Dylan to Michael Bolton in 3 Easy Steps
101 Uses for a Laundry Basket (Plus Bonus Dog Idea)

Also: (and I have no idea what this is referring to)

Shoulder Robot and Frozen Baby
Food = Poop

That is all.

Hot or Not: Shoe Edition

Okay, hot or not? I can't decide.

Oh Happy Necklace

Look what I got... I am so insanely happy to have it. I'm smiling like an idiot right now.

Cobalt Tears

If you intended to make me cry, your attempt was successful.

Taunt (Rank 25)

Sometimes I feel like it's not a good idea to compare life to video games. In this case I think it's appropriate. I think I've honed my taunt skill, and now I'm not prepared to deal with the consequences.

One time I got cited for being "full of crap." My fine for this infraction was a series of spankings. Obviously I *am* full of crap, so in this situation it's only natural for me to taunt whoever is administering my punishment... which only leads to hand-shaped welts that last for days and days.

Lately I've been feeling like, even though most things that happen to (and around) me are completely out of my control, I still manage to make them worse sometimes. Not on purpose, but because of my nature. Something in me that makes me worry about stuff when I absolutely shouldn't worry, and then I feel like I brought it upon myself when bad things happen. Kind of like when that idiot Jim Bockman (names have been changed to protect the stupid) told Necca that she causes herself to get into car accidents.

It probably doesn't help that when faced with a stressful situation, my reaction is to switch straight to logic and abandon any and all of my emotions. "What needs to happen to move things forward?" "What is the first step to making this better?" Worrying the whole time that I'm going to make things worse somehow. Then, as soon as the stress-causing situation is resolved, I lose my composure and turn into a blubbering infant. It kind of makes the whole ordeal last twice as long. Usually by the time I start blubbering, I've got nobody but myself to pick up the pieces of me.

So now I'm starting to wonder if my worrying really does bring these things upon me. As the song goes, "Drama doesn't follow me, it rides on my back." I don't feel like I'm a high-drama kind of girl, but damn if I'm not pitched face first into some highly dramatic situations on a pretty regular basis.

Don't get me wrong, it could also have a lot to do with my willingness to help out a friend in need. I'm sure plenty of people see these kind of situations brewing and run the hell away. I feel like it's important to me to provide any help I possibly can to a friend who needs it. Isn't that what friends are for? Am I the only one who feels this way?

Anyway, my main question here is, at the resolution of this sort of situation, I often feel the need to scream into the heavens, and at the earth and everything around me. I just want to stop and yell until I can't anymore. I don't think there's anyone or anything out there that will answer, but I'm still tempted to lash out at the universe around me. Sometimes I do. This time I didn't, even though I wanted to. Do I bring these things upon myself? Is this what it's like to have your universe rise to the occasion when you taunt it?

Is that all you've got? Fuckin' bring it on then. I'm still standing.

Currently listening: The Same Old Blood Rush with a New Touch By Cute Is What We Aim For

Release date: 20 June, 2006

Freaky Pillow

Staso discovered this 'flower' pillow at Luckys the other day... I don't even know what else I can say about it that this picture can't say for me...

Beach Safety

Just so you are all aware, as illustrated in the first image on the 2nd row of this public safety reminder:

Don't think you can go to Santa Cruz and jump your motorcycle over cars. Maybe you can jump your bike over other shit, but not over cars, mmmkay?

Ninja Edit: Thx Celeste for pointing out this awesome sign of fantasticness.

Moving Forward

I've finally started replacing my stolen jewelry. My scorpion necklace was my first attempt. I got this in the mail today. Next up is my silver llama, followed by my spoon ring, and then my cobalt marble. Once I locate suitable replacements all things will be right in my world... ok that's a lie, but its a start.

(Also, my chest looks awful in this picture... where the heck did all the red blotchyness come from? That's not actually there...)

Got Milk?

It scares me when I see a new month on the expiration date of my (chocolate) milk. I can't believe it's already almost October. Before you know it, we'll be celebrating Hatvember, Scarfcember, and Bandanuary again.

You know what else scares me? When my body decides I need calcium or protein or something and I end up drinking half a gallon of milk in the span of an afternoon. I don't even like milk. What gives?

Entertain Me, Myself and I

(Here's my 'pondering reality vs. fiction' face)

I'm officially addicted to this show, however this one episode appears to be broken and its killing me. I swear its like a soap opera for geeks, and I'm totally swooning over Helo. He's buff but still incredibly sweet. What gives? Do guys like that actually exist? Maybe the writers for this show are all women and he's a figment of their combined imaginations.

And yes, it was a delicious pomegranate green tea energy drink, which I thouroughly enjoyed.

Couch of Blackness

Why yes, it would be. Why?

P.S. This couch's luck doesn't appear to have changed. Aaron's sweatshirt has been sitting on it all week and I just went to move it to take a picture and its soaked with Niki pee. Eew.

Noobday Parties

Okay, Scott's kid is abnormally huge for a one year old. Enjoy some birthday cake eating photos:

Reap What You Sow

These are some strange days.

Somebody said "Ask and you shall receive." I think they were right. Also, "Be careful what you wish for." Also right.

I asked, I was horribly unprepared for what I wished for, now I don't know what to do. Fantastic.

THANKS WORLD, I HEART YOU. (Seriously, I say this without even a hint of sarcasm. Things are looking up.)

Also, Dominic:

No. Way. Local. Cop. That. Their. Fiefdom.

That is all.

Currently listening: Speak for Yourself By Imogen Heap

Release date: 01 November, 2005

On Sleepless Roads

I'm trying to figure out today if illness makes me depressed or if it's the other way around. It's probably both, and I'm crazy.

Anyway, I left work yesterday feeling light-headed and stressed. Spent the evening with a rather odd and also mightily fat kitty who helped me to feel much much better. It's strange to me to witness the effect a weird and creaky furball can have on my mood. I probably need to hang out with cats more often, or get something moderately fuzzy of my own to hang out with. Dharma just doesn't have the same effect now that I'm reasonably sure she could completely swallow my thumb with no issue. Don't get me wrong, I don't think she would but if I had to try to put myself in her head I'd expect her internal monologue goes a little something like this:

"Listen, you need to quit your whining. I have to live in a glass box every day and the only reason I'm so good at keeping my girlish figure is that I only get to eat when you decide to feed me. Do you realize I haven't eaten bread in ever? You think you've got it bad. I should just digest your thumb and give you something to whine about."

I'm really looking forward to the possibility that I will be able to buy a bird early next year. I think that might help curb my emotional rollercoaster outbreaks.

In other news, my Susiekins has introduced me to the modern miracle of mobile blogging. I can officially send photos and text to this crazy email address and poof, a minute later it's online for everyone to read.

Also, cocks, lol.

Currently listening: Daniel Powter By Daniel Powter

Release date: 11 April, 2006

Jabba the Cat

I swear Niki and I wear the same size pants. He is so big we can't lay side by side on the couch 'cause we don't both fit. Speaking of which, what a trip to lay on my old couch and watch tv on a big tv while being suffocated by a giant cat.

Pit Of Self-Loathing

After a very strange and awful day, I've decided to commit myself to an evening in my personal pit of self-loathing.

Today was strange because traditionally, the first day of the year that I find myself staring down a pomegranate in a big box grocery store has always been a good day. Then I followed up this stare down with an intensely frustrating day. I was almost in tears at one point, and those of you who know me know how rare it is for me to show emotion, let alone cry, in front of other people.

I'm starting to wonder if maybe its just not humanly possible to wake up every morning, square your shoulders, and hold your head up as you face each day. Some days I feel so splendidly weak that I wonder how I can be trusted to make sure I survive.

Does it count as strength if you don't really believe it? I mean I tell myself all the time what I need to do. I suck it up and make sure these things actually get done, but internally I freak out about it the entire time. Maybe that's the issue. Maybe I'm just never really strong so on the days when I can't push myself as hard I really notice what I'm made of.

It just seems like I'm made of tofu, or maybe pudding. Then again, one time somebody told me I taste like raspberry jello so maybe that's it. No, it wasn't Devilsaur either.

Okay that's about enough complaining. Next time I see a pomegranate in a grocery store I'm going to buy it and have a goddamned fantastic day.

Cocks, LOL

Hooray for Chinese dinners in obscure Morro Bay restaurants. I still can't believe the lady had the door open for us before we even got out of the car.

Also, cocks, lol.

Holiday Hijinx

So you know those little christmas town setups some people like to build... apparently you can now add a taco stand or pharmacy to yours...

Ah, Youth

Lately I feel like I need to do something really immersive in a good old fashioned "days of my youth" style. This weekend I think I'm going to end up at home most of the weekend, after that I'll be on the run almost every weekend until November, so it's sort of now or never. I've narrowed it down to a few suitable activities:

1) Outer Limits Marathon - I used to love that show. I bet I still have a couple VCDs full of old episodes I could watch. Not the Mark Hamil one tho, that one was too sad.
2) Late 80s/Early 90s Movie Marathon - Stuff like Princess Bride, Labyrinth, Legend, Dark Crystal... Ferris Bueller, Maybe some Molly Ringwald action...
3) Tree Climbing - I realized I haven't climbed a tree in forever (unless you count the steampunk treehouse at Burning Man) and I used to climb at least one tree every day.
4) Bike Ride Picnic - Fill up a backpack with fresh produce and maybe some whole grain bread or crackers, get lost on my bike, stop when I find someplace suitable and eat. Then get unlost.
5) Blanket Fort Night - I haven't even attempted to build a blanket fort in my room and I've lived in there for almost a year now.
6) Oldstyle Video Game Day - I'll have to dust off my Atari, or maybe an afternoon with Maniac Mansion, or a Street Fighter II Tournament. I'll have to enlist Jaime's help for that 'cause he has all the cool button pad things...

Help me decide! (Or, help me decide which thing to do first. Now that I look at them I think I might have to do all of them... as time permits.) Also, if you help me pick, you are invited to join me... now there's an incentive if I ever heard one.

Ok also, I took Fall outside to try to get some better pictures and I think I actually got one that's sort of good... (P.S. the detail and shimmery overlay on this is a silver tone, not gold, even though it kind of always looks gold in the pictures.)

Questions?
Comments?
User Ideas?
Tips?
Tricks?

Lets hear 'em!

Fall

So this is the latest. It's pop like Heather and kind of silly, and completely impossible to photograph. What do you think?

Do you all see your colors in there?

Currently listening: Limb By Justin Clayton Release date: 14 September, 1999

If wishes were fishes

I really need to invest in a personal audio recorder. Maybe I should start carrying blank MDs and Mini-D's microphone so that I can talk to myself and actually have some idea what I said later on when I'm sitting in front of my computer.

On my drive home this evening I had a thought. It was about wishes.

There's a tunnel on the Northbound side of the freeway, at the Gaviota pass. Every time I drive through it I hold my breath and make a wish. I realized today that my wishes have gone through so many stages. When I was a kid I'd wish for things. Stuff that I didn't have, that my family couldn't afford, or money. Very specific wishes for a girl who had very specific wants, drowning in naïvité. I'd wish on shooting stars, I'd wish in tunnels... I'd search for four leaf clovers in the fields at school during recess, even though I think those are just lucky. Last time I checked they don't grant wishes.

I can't say that much has changed. I still wish on falling stars, and while driving through tunnels. The last chance I had to spend any time sitting amongst the clover flowers, I'm positive I checked all of the closest clovers for four-leaf-edness.

So, what do I wish for now, you wonder. (At least, I'd guess you're wondering that right now.) Now I wish for things that aren't easily defined. I wish for my mom. I wish that she finds the happiness she deserves. I wish for my friends, because they are all amazing people and they deserve to have whatever it is that makes them feel complete. I wish for myself.

It's the wishes I make for myself that are the most varied. Sometimes I wish that I could trust myself more. I wish that I knew when to go with my instincts and when I'm just being crazy. I wish that I could feel strong. I wish that I could hold my head up and believe that no matter what is, or what has been, that my life is what I make of it. I wish that I would feel more comfortable in my own skin.

The more I make these wishes, the harder it gets to think of something to wish for. It seems like every time, I wish, and then I realize that in order to make my wish come true, the only thing I need is myself. I can hold my own hand. I can pick myself up when I'm down. Nobody knows what will make me feel better the way that I do. Granted, sometimes it's a bit difficult to come face to face with the fact that I am responsible for my own happiness, but I'm learning and I think I'm doing a pretty good job of growing as I go along.

So tell me, what do you wish for?

Currently listening: Californication By Red Hot Chili Peppers

Release date: 08 June, 1999

Field of Golden Intentions

Ok now it's done:

I've got birds on my ear and a devil on my shoulder. The birds told me to save it and try to put together "a body of work" so that I can whore my art around town and try to get "a showing." The devil says to try to sell it online 'cause I like money. Yet again, I don't know what to do.

Currently listening: Glycerine By Bush Release date: 21 January, 1997

Fields of Gold

This isn't done yet. I started working on it in April and just got inspired to work on it again while I was waiting for my group painting project to dry so I could start on another layer.

I hit a snag with my planning phase when my sketch pen died so I'm just kind of going for it here, which isn't what I usually do... but it appears to be working, as this isn't even done yet and I'm already madly in love with it. (The photo is slightly distorted and cropped cause it's a photo, not a scan, so don't be too harsh.)

What do you think?

Currently listening: Speak for Yourself By Imogen Heap Release date: 01 November, 2005

Painting Project

I think, somehow, that the sight of a billion different colors this evening at Sephora inspired me to paint when I got home. As is often my way, I failed to make more than a handful of decisions on my own. I got out the paints, a fresh canvas, and got started. After my initial slop of random black squishyness was laid down, I realized that I had no idea where I wanted to go from there.

This is when the idea of a group inspired painting hit me. I grabbed Merlin and texted a bunch of my bestest friends and asked them to each pick a color. As the texts came in, I sifted through my tubes of color and sloshed the paint onto the canvas. Now as I sit here waiting for it to dry, I think it really turned out perfectly. There are a few more layers I intend to add to it, so if you have yet to respond to my text message, you still should. (Or if I missed you in my mass text, or might not have your number you should post your color suggestion here.)

I'll post pictures when it's done. Thanks for the help and inspiration. :)

Currently listening: Say It Right By Nelly Furtado

Release date: 26 March, 2007

Irony

I know, two posts in one day... it's been that kind of day.

I did not take this picture, but I did love this installation:



It's always out there, on the horizon, and that's all there is to it.

Currently listening: Infinity on High By Fall Out Boy Release date: 06 February, 2007

"Sleep" or "Why I’m Usually Up All Night" plus special bonus features!

I saw this today and it reminded me of my ongoing internal battle about my projection alarm clock. I'm sure a few of you have gone through this more than enough times as well.

I really have to take a count of all the tiny lights around my room again... and disassemble my fire alarm to look for cameras...

Next topic: Holidays.

This past weekend I witnessed a rather large celebration in progress in Santa Maria. It appears that this event was large enough to warrant the closure of at least one street in the Town Center area, and the erection of a large stage for crazy loud music of a Mexican nature. (Yes, I said "erection.")

I hear it was Mexican Independence day. I heard it all the way from my mom's house, about a mile away.

So, as we discussed, I think if we're going to go so far as closing of city streets and big celebrations for foreign national holidays, you can't just go leaving out all of the other countries and their holidays. Keith wants to celebrate Bastille Day. I'd love to have an extra day off in July, so why not. I bet we could set up a stage someplace downtown and blast French pop-rock all afternoon. Chelsea says we should have Boxing Day off. I don't really understand what the deal is with the "boxing" but, I'll take another day off after "Christmas."

Can we put it to a vote and just add an extra holiday every couple years or something? C'mon, who wouldn't vote for an extra day off every year? Think of how many department stores could have Bastille Day sales! It'd be fantastic, if you're into that...

Also, per Chelsea:

Toothpick Deck.

That is all.

Currently listening: Limb By Justin Clayton Release date: 14 September, 1999

Milk and Honey

This is another one of those that I usually start with an apology. I'll just get right into it this time.

He says "tired" but I don't think that has anything to do with it. Alone has always been the issue, but not in that way. Do I have the sense to be afraid? Lately, no. Is it sensible to be afraid? Probably not. I push myself, not because of fear, but because I haven't reached that point (hopefully I never will) where I can't see that my fears are irrational. Even though it's difficult, I still feel the need to overcome them.

Milk and honey. It's always been that way, it just takes the right angle to see it. I think I've slipped into that angle and now that I realize what I have, I don't know how to handle it. I'm trying common sense, but that isn't even as easy as it sounds. I don't have to fear. I know that it is what I make of it. It will be what I make of it, I just have to stay aware. Like I've said before, it's not about luck. Luck doesn't exist, or as my favorite quote puts it, "Luck is when preparation meets opportunity." As days go by, I realize this is more and more true.

So, about pins and rings and promenades. I think I'll wait. I heard good things come to those who wait, and if I have one thing going for me it's patience.

I remember walking in the rain. I once spoke of cycles and changes. The truth of the matter is, my cycle is five or six years long, and I'm currently sitting at the open mouth of my sixth, and wondering if it could be my last. Maybe this time it'll stick and in five or six years there will be no great earth shaking change. I feel like the person I am right now is so much more stable and learned than all of the girls I've been before.

Milk and honey. I just have to make what I want out of this, and wait for what's coming my way.

Currently listening: As Tall as Lions By As Tall as Lions

Release date: 08 August, 2006

You and Me and All of the People

I've been having a rough time with things lately. I think I tend to internalize it pretty well, which probably only serves to make the people who are around me often think that I'm a total nutcase, or a braggart. I'm not sure which I'd think I was if I wasn't me.

Tonight as I was driving home from a fantastical hot date I got to thinking about complainers. (People who complain...) I think I'm a bit of a complainer. I don't know if that's any better than some of the alternatives, I mean, I've been annoyed recently at a whole assortment of *ers. My *ers phenomenon will have to wait for a different blog, I don't have enough energy for that size rant at the moment.

Anyway, I started to wonder if people think I complain about some things because I'm trying to brag. I'm not comfortable with that idea, especially considering that ever since the week before I left for Burning Man I've been basically in a suspended state of panic 24/7. (Oddly enough, this state of panic disappeared the moment my boots touched the playa, and returned the moment I stepped out of Celeste's vehicle onto Santa Cruz pavement.)

I had a familiar feeling creep up on me this (and last) week. Something I haven't felt hit me this hard since back in high school. The panic. I let it set in. I had a little anxiety attack followed by what I'd like to think of as an anxiety ripple. It seems that when I start to panic, I start to spew out the reasons why I'm freaking out to anybody who is unfortunate enough to listen. In this case, I'm having issues dealing with the stress of a ton of fun things on my calendar so every time I look at the thing, I start to lose it.

Why stress over a ton of fun things, you ask? Well, this time last year I was struggling with something entirely different. The thing I was struggling with then was the EXACT opposite of what I'm facing now. I don't know what it is exactly. I think it has something to do with the fact that I feel responsible for myself. I feel like I have to attend and participate at all of these things, and make sure I don't contribute to anybody having a bad time. This means I need to be prepared, take care of myself, and make sure I don't let anybody down. I know probably nobody else sees things from this perspective so I bet now I sound more like a nutcase than anything, but really that's the stuff my brain dreams up, and it's what gets me through each day, so I'm not very good at silencing it.

What I've been doing the last few days isn't really very good for me either. I noticed I started trying to turn in, trying to hide. I can't use hiding as my mechanism for dealing with this kind of stress. On the same note, I can't use whining so I need to just cut that out right now.

Just so anyone who reads this and may have plans with me over the next few months is fully aware:

Whatever we have planned, I planned with you because I want to do it. Unless I have a very valid and prove-able reason why I can't do whatever it is we planned to do, you should not, under any circumstances, let me cancel on you. (Unless its something you don't actually want to do, and in that case, I'll leave it up to you.)

So in closing, I'm sorry if I sound like a complete ass, I don't intend to, and please reprimand me if I continue. That is all.

Currently listening: In Keeping Secrets of Silent Earth: 3 By Coheed & Cambria

Release date: 22 June, 2004

The Burn

I SURVIVED!

Not that I thought I wouldn't... it just seemed like many of you thought I wouldn't... but I totally did.

Disclaimer: This blog may contain over 40 photos when I'm done with it. These are but a fraction of the photos I took over the last week. In order to see more photos, or any of the cool stuff I brought home, you have to at least act like you like me and hang out with me in person when my laptop is within reach. This type of action on your part will also grant you access to the more risque stories which will not be included in this or any other blog (of mine.)

Now, I'm going to tell you a story. It's a long one, even with the risque bits removed. Please enjoy it, or don't, but if you don't, then you can just eff right off.

Let's start with Friday, the longest day in the history of me. Scotty P. I have not forgotten that you completely lied to me and made this work day a very sad one because I learned that I can not, in fact, trust you.

So after I learned terrible things about Mr. P.'s trustworthy-ness, I got to leave. I made the two-and-a-half-ish hour drive up to Santa Cruz which was mostly uneventful. When I arrived, a long weekend of... stuff... began.

There were Planet Earth movies, and Hackers movies, and Pick 'n' Pull Jabbas, hiccups and snags in our plans, dinners with sausage ('cause I love me some sausage,) cleaning, more cleaning, shopping, more shopping, more cleaning, packing, sleeping, reading, and then just when I thought it would never happen, leaving.

Some time on Monday after a trip to the DMV and another run in with the Jabbas, and a bunch of that other stuff I just mentioned, we managed to leave on what would become the perilous 10-ish hour drive to Black Rock City.

So, first off, there was the food-tastrophe. One of our cabinets popped open in transit and a jug of juice decided to escape with a box of soy milk. By "escape" I mean "explode all over the floor." After that was cleaned up and we headed further on down the road, we had to stop for water, and discovered another food-tastrophe. Apparently none of us noticed the fridge latch until we arrived at BRC and our guacamole decided to commit suicide by the time we'd hit Reno. So there was another clean-up, and some water shuffling, and we got on our way again.

We stopped at another point for gas and managed to catch the lunar eclipse, which was AMAZING, but unfortunately I don't have any pictures of it. :(

When we finally pulled up at the long and dusty path to the greeters stations, BMIR (the BRC radio station) let us all know, that the man had already been burned by some idiot with a bottle rocket (or some sort of projectile fire) as a prank. Seeing as it was about 4:30 AM on Tuesday, this news definitely made me a little sad. What is Burning Man without the man? (Everything turned out okay, I wasn't sad for that long.)

When I woke up later in the day on Tuesday, Celeste and I went for a ride around the open playa. Now you may all enjoy some photo bits.

This is what our poor burnded man looked like on Tuesday afternoon, right before they tore him down.

We saw the crew setting up the Big Rig Jig, which also looked pretty amazing the next time I saw it, when it was completed (and night time, which I don't have any pictures of for some reason.)

There was also this crazy spinny monkey strobe thing which was really neat during the day, and much neater at night. I got to meet the guy who made this on Saturday night, but we'll get to that when we get to it. Basically it works like one of those old style spinny toys with the slot in the side where you can look through and it looks like the images on the inside of the ring are moving. I can't remember what those things are called now.

Okay, I really loved this. It was seriously fantastic. These bottles were cut and outfitted with mirrors so that they spun in different directions on the dowels they are resting on. The way they were each cut made unique sounds when the wind picked them up, they sparkled so brilliantly, and it sounded just like running water. It was incredible. I want some to set up outside my room so I can pretend like I live next to a babbling brook all the time. This doesn't really go with any of my other "outside my room" fantasies though, so I guess I'll have to wait till I have a bigger room or something. Before I share too much again, moving on.

Then we discovered what I decided to call "The Ewok Treehouse." They were still in the process of building it, so we had to come back later. It has steam whistles and lights in the branches, and you can climb up inside it and look out over the playa. I also want one of these in my back yard.

Then at some point we discovered the Heavy Petting Zoo. This was much more anti-climactic than you're thinking right now. Celeste had herself a grande olde tyme feeling it up anyhow.

Okay and WTF Aaron, why didn't you tell me you were going to do an "art" installation at Burning Man this year?

So then Celeste and I headed back to Prowly. (In case you are not familiar with this term, Prowly is our trailer. She is super sexy and we love her.) By this time, Mike was up, and the two of them headed out for a little exploratory time. I decided not to stick around camp for my first day there, and headed out on my first solo playa adventure.

I discovered the Death Guild setting up their Thunderdome.

There was definitely some Mad Max shit going on at that camp.

Then I jammed over to Center Camp where I wrote in my journal for a bit, drank some delicious lemonade, and watched some live musical acts.

Chelsea, this man, he should be your idol.

Maybe not 'cause of his outfit, but his skill with that violin was nearly enough to bring me to tears multiple times.

After his set was over, this woman got on. Her name is Belinda Blair.

Okay, she gets props for having a drummer who looks like Shia LeBeouf (and is therefore cute in a man-boy sort of way) but as soon as she stopped playing covers (which was after the 2nd song of her set) she was seriously grasping at straws, and it was painful to listen to. Honestly, her rendition of "I Wanna Be Gangbanged By You" to the tune of Marilyn Monroe's "I Wanna Be Loved By You" (so re-done because she was told not to play any more covers) was one of the most terrible things I've ever seen on a stage. (...and I've seen Steve-O live before. He eats glass, paints his face with his mouth-blood, and then drinks his own urine as his intro.)

Also while I was at Center Camp, I bonded with some random guy who had the same exact journal as me, another random guy traded me a hug for a bracelet, and a gorgeous naked blonde woman fed me grapes from the vine. They were the most delicious grapes I've ever tasted. Not just because she was naked, but that might have helped. She said they were from her neighbors garden. I bet she has lucky neighbors.

It was also on this day that for the first time in my entire life, I put on a two-piece bathing suit, and absolutely loved it.

That night we headed out to see what was going on. I heard some tales of "domes" which were supposedly "going off" but they were nowhere to be found. Also, this is the night when I received an Infraction Notice, and subsequent spanking. The welts and bruises from this spanking are still clearly visible, but again, if you want the more risque stories and photos you'll have to follow the above instructions. For now, satisfy yourselves with a picture of my Infraction Notice.

After that I got a chance to take a picture of the Ewok Treehouse at night, which looks like this:

And then, the Thunderdome:

After the Thunderdome, I found this area with fun fire and flameyness. I'm a bit of a pyro myself so I had to stand and watch for a bit.

Then it was time for the big round Cubatron.

MY PHOTOS CAN NEVER DO THIS THING JUSTICE. NO PHOTO EVER COULD.

You just have to know that before you look at it. Also, I want one of these in my big backyard. The Cubatron is this giant round arrangement of lights. It's quite tall, and each little bulb on this apparatus is capable of producing ANY color light from white right on through to the palest and darkest shades of every color you can imagine.

Here it is all decked out in green:

Here it is all multi-color fabulous:

If you watch through some of the programming they have set up on this bad boy, it does some seriously crazy amazing things. Everything from square dancing people, to spiders, and even some sort of optical illusion color strobe madness. It's incredible. I just can't do it justice. Also at some point in this evening, we rode a birthday cake. There will be a picture of that later.

Moving on to Wednesday:

Wednesday was our camp happy hour night. By the time we all got up and going, it was nearly time for camp activities, so I spent most of my afternoon writing letters and hanging out around our shade structure dome. (I'll have to tell you all about the dome-tastrophies later.) Around 6PM we all got our formal wear on and started up our crazy camp activities.

WELCOME TO BOB BARKERS FUN & GAMES CAMP

Celeste and Mike put their best formal gear to the test. They look hot-hot-hot!

There will be more pictures later when I get my hands on Celeste's pictures. I'll have to post a filler blog with just photos in it when I do.

So I had a crazy great time pretending to be "Bob Mothafuckin' Barker" for about an hour at our Drinko game (after Celeste and I repaired it with our crafty utility knives and my super glue, along with the help of some tall guys.) I got to heckle and laugh with some random people who were cruising by, and everybody enjoyed Drinko. (Who wouldn't like a game you can't lose, when the prizes are all free booze-a-licious drinks?) I also got to meet a few great guys who were staying at a camp down the street. They all had matching green mohawks, and I wish now that I had gotten their contact info, because they were seriously cool people and it'd be awesome to hang out with them again next year, if they're around.

Then we decided to bail on the camp after dark and see what sort of trouble we could get into out in the open. By this time, I don't know how many drinks I'd had, but apparently I though it'd be fun to take a few silly pictures of the moon through our shade structure, among other things. Here, enjoy my intoxication with me:

(Sorry Chelsea's Mom. I know I'm bad, mmkay?)

Okay enough of that. We headed out into the open after this, and I was saddened to find that there was still no man. There was, however, an art car which would quickly become my 'favorite art car.' The camp responsible for it was called Garagemahal, although I wouldn't know this until many days later. As we were riding around on this art car filled with fantastic music, we came across some people riding flaming metal anglerfish.

Celeste and Mike felt the need to get off the art car and dance at least once, and when we finally got off the car, it was at this HUGEMONGOUS structure which I heard was called "The Oilrig." It was at least 7 stories tall, all wood, and you could climb these insane stairs all the way to the top, fill your hands and legs with splinters, and get fantastic photos and videos from the top. It was at this point, that I got to take a picture of the birthday cake art car.

Allow me to put this into some sort of scale for you. I was on top of The Oilrig. The birthday cake was at least as tall as a double-decker bus, at the base of its candles. All those sparkly lights in the background, that's part of Black Rock City, but not a very big part. I'd say maybe 1/20th.

Moving on to Thursday. Thursday was so dead. During the day we were riddled with crazy dust storms, so I spent the whole afternoon in the trailer writing letters and reading. That night, everything we heard was "going off" was not going anywhere, let alone off. This was the night that I decided that "going-off domes" are a myth. There is no such thing as a going-off dome.

Anyway, the only pictures I took that night were of the temple, which was also an incredible structure, made entirely of unfinished wood. It reminded me of dollhouse remnants, all pieced together into this breathtaking structure.

So, people use the temple as a place to let go. You can write and draw on it, messages and affirmations, leave photos and memoirs, bits and pieces of things for people and personal things you'd like to let go or see off, and it all burns with the temple on Sunday night.

It felt like a privilege to enter such a sacred space. I was humbled by its magnificence. So much energy, in so many ways, it was really amazing.

Friday brought more storms. Both of dust and rain. Friday brought something else too though. It brought a man. Not just any man either, THE man.

After all the dust and rain cleared, we all stepped outside to survey the damage to our camp. This would be the appropriate place for me to tell you about our dometastrophies.

First of all, on Monday, before I even arrived, a huge dust storm lifted our first dome off of the ground, blew it over one of our camp leaders, and into a neighboring camp, destroying the windows and doors on one side of one of their vehicles. The dome was retrieved and more firmly anchored, but it never quite recovered. Our second dome was constructed with a few pieces out of order, and looked a bit more like an igloo than a dome really. At some point in either the storm on Thursday or Friday, the first dome collapsed and had to be condemned.

Poor dome. We are all grateful for the shade and also disco fever that you were able to provide while your metal legs held you up for us. You will be missed.

While I was out surveying the damage, I decided to take some pictures of the crazy storm clouds as they passed. With these, you also get a few good shots of our surrounding camps, but keep in mind, this is after two days of devastation from the storms.

As you watch Celeste march off into the sunset, note the ONLY martini glass capable of getting all people who sleep in Prowly home safe every night.

The Blue Martini Light of Destiny!

The neighboring camp behind us (Toxic Martini Camp) had this blue light on every night. It was so close to Prowly and such a unique shade of blue that I could pick it out from almost anywhere on the playa and use it to guide us home.

So as we're wandering around checking out what's still standing, it seemed as though something smiled upon us all. One of the most beautiful scenes I've ever beheld appeared before us.

As with so many things, my words can not describe the magnificence of this double rainbow. Though weak, the top band displayed all seven colors rumored to be included in a rainbow. The bottom band showed all seven and more. There were at least 5 more rows of blue and purple radiating down out of the stronger rainbow. It was unlike anything I have ever seen in my entire life. It took everything I had to go find my camera because all I wanted to do was stand and gaze at this glorious apparition. I doubt I'll ever see anything quite like it again.

That night was my first night on the playa with the man lit up in all his green man glory.

I decided that he sort of looks like he's wearing a diaper. After some group discussion on the matter, we determined that this must be because he already burned, and rose from his ashes, therefore, he is the man - reborn. So since he just got re-born, he must be a man-baby, and that's why he's wearing a diaper.

Either way, I was thrilled that he was back.

So we toured the playa under the light of the man. One stop we made was back at the crazy Thunderdome.

This really beautiful goth lady sang opera like you rarely hear. She had a voice like an angel, and totally mimicked that crazy blue opera lady from the 5th Element like it weren't no thang.

Then it was fight time. I have some pretty ok video of at least one fight, and these pictures:

This little lady totally kicked the shit out of Mr. Shirtless Dude. I suppose he probably deserved it.

Also, I saw some more crazy fire art that I really liked.

You can see the man in the background. Just so everyone is aware, if you want to impress me, and you can manage it without destroying yourself or anybody's personal property, the way to go is fire and wings. I'm almost always impressed. Especially if the fire bursts forth from the top of metal trees. This shit was super-radical. Plus it sounded like the fireswamp when the fire would burst out of the trees, and you know I could live comfortably there for quite a while, as soon as I find me a Dread Pirate Roberts.

Friday night Paul Oakenfold was playing at the Opulent Temple. What I did catch of that was fantastic, but I was super drained from the elements and such, so I called it an early night, some time around 2 AM.

Saturday is the night of the burn. You can see a few pictures I've selected, but I think I may follow in Celeste's footsteps and not allow any non-participants to see the actual burn.

First the man raises his arms because he's just so darn excited about the prospect of being charred, again. Then a shit-ton of people crowd around him and dance around with crazy fire. I'd eventually like to learn how to do this fire dancing and participate in this part of the man-burning-ritual.

Then, people protest in order to try to save him. Where the hell were they on Monday night???

Then the colorful fire fun begins and they burn him anyway.

AND IT WAS A THRILL TO WATCH!
(Does that make me a bad person? He's not a reeeeaaaall man...)

Okay so the rest of that night I almost spent back in the Prowly cause I was tired, but they were going to burn the massive Oilrig structure so I went back to Prowly, changed into my yeti fur gear, and headed out alone. I ended up hopping on a dinosaur looking art car, and hitching a ride far far away from my camp, out to the structure. On the way I hung out with some seriously funny and probably slightly intoxicated people, most of them guys rocking the shaved head look. I swear, if I had been anywhere other than Burning Man, I might have needed to be scared, but I figured it was probably just another exercise in camp uniformity, like the guys with the green mohawks. Anyway, we drove far far away from my camp, out to the Oilrig structure where I found... my old favorite art car! Garagemahal was parked and poised for the next burn, so I hopped on and hung out with them for a bit. All I plan on saying about the structure fire right now is, it was the most massive column of fire after the most spectacular fireworks display that I've ever seen in my entire life. Again, there will be pictures later on when I get them from Celeste.

So then Garagemahal decides that its an "our camp only" night on their art car, and just as one of them decided I should probably not qualify to stay on the car because I was not with their camp, their captain said it was cool if I stayed on the car cause he remembered me from a few nights before when we hung out with them. I ended up riding around on that car for hours, and the DJ they had that night was ROCKING that thing. I've never seen a double decker bus with a crows nest bump like that, ever. I loved every minute of it. They were all really nice and friendly, we talked about every sort of crazy subject you could imagine, and nobody went thirsty, including me. So some time around 3 I decided I should probably skip off of the art car and make my way back to camp, only, by this point my bike was nowhere nearby, so I'd have to walk.

It was on this walk that I met up with a slightly intoxicated tall guy with a mohawk who at first accused me of stealing his bike. Obviously if I had stolen his bike, I would have been riding it, instead of walking, so I defended myself thusly, and we ended up wandering around the Esplanade, barhopping, looking for missing bikes, checking for bedtime stories on the Bookmobile and having a generally unacceptable amount of fun. He was genuinely adorable, although that seems like the sort of word that any guy with a mohawk would hate to hear being used to describe him.

I'm not sure how it happened but after that night, I have to admit there is a certain soft spot in my little heart for all the adorable guys with their colorful mohawks, and all the (also adorable) guys rocking the bald look. (However, they have to qualify as adorable first, cause seriously that one guy from the other night who was just trying to get on anything willing with tits was scary.)

So sometime around 5:30 AM I ended up back at our camp, climbed into bed in my prison bunk, and fell asleep listening to the one song I listened to over and over every night of my burn.

Sunday afternoon when we woke up, we decided that we were all ready to go, even though it meant we'd miss the temple burn. We packed up Prowly, and handled our chores around the camp, then spent a jillion hours trying to make our way off of the playa. We finally arrived in Santa Cruz around sunrise this morning, and I helped get all of the perishables out of Ms. Prowly, packed up my car and drove home. I stopped by the post office in SLO to find that I have a package to pick up which wouldn't fit in my PO Box, but since it's a holiday, I'll have to go pick it up tomorrow.

Surprisingly enough, I've been awake and cleaning off all my stuff since then. I took my bike and car over to the car wash and sprayed the shit out of them to get all the playa dust off. That bike looks even better now than it did when I bought it.

This all just leaves me wondering when I'll be tired next.

So to recap my first burn:

Sunburns: 0
Tans: 0.5
Black Eyes: 1
Bruises: Too many to count.
Hand Shaped Welts: 1
Broken Bones: Possibly 1, my nose is questionable, it still hurts.
Cuts and Scrapes: Way too many to count.
Splinters: 3
Good times: Too many to count.

I'm homesick already. How many days till the man burns?

Currently listening: Extraordinary Machine By Fiona Apple Release date: 04 October, 2005