Anthony's Restaurant

I pass 309 W. Broad Street on my way to yoga everyday. Located here is a place called Anthony's Restaurant. Yes, the name reminds me of my husband and the fact that they serve Italian food helps as well; but this place is packed every evening, which is normally a good sign. It looks like a little mom-and-pops type of place, and once Anthony gets home, we are checkin' it out! Maybe they'll give us a discount...probably not. 

To the left is page 2 of their menu (I like the little graphics). If you want to see their complete menu, go here.

Unfortunately, I don't see chicken alfredo on this menu, and that's one of Anthony's favorite meals. He's not crazy about tomatoes, tomato sauce, cheeses, olives, and many other Italian-esque things, yet he calls himself Italian :) I'm not a huge fan of alfredo sauce, but one of my favorite memories of Anthony revolves around that meal. During one of his first times eating with my family, he made my parents shrimp alfredo for dinner. He finished it off with cherry pie (my dad's favorite) and a scoop of ice cream. So sweet (Anthony, not the pie). No one had ever cooked dinner for my parents before; needless to say, I was wooed.

So, Anthony, be prepared to eat at this place when you return! Besides, I'm tired of driving by and smelling the yummy-ness without trying it.

Stillness

I just returned from a long walk with Sam. Fall is starting to show her face little by little. There are clusters of crunchy, brown leaves on the ground, and the weather is cooler. Sam thinks every tumbling leaf is something to be pounced upon. The experience of going through seasons is foreign to me; I'm looking forward to watching the earth change (and the cooler air), but I think after a week or two, I'll want the warmth back (right, Anthony?). By the time Anthony gets back, we'll be in the dead of winter; and after being in 100(+) degree weather for 6 months, I'm sure he'll appreciate the change (eh-hem, right, Anthony?). I have a feeling we'll balance each other out.

I'm trying to make a point to take my camera with me on a regular basis so that as I see things or places or whatever, I'm able to record and share. Here are a couple of shots from the same viewpoint on the bridge that leads to the trails.

 There were so many reflections of light happening simultaneously, and it created these interesting segments and lines in the light reflecting off of the water. It's a little hard to see here since you can also see the reflection of the trees.

In yoga, they say that with a still mind, you are able to reflect on the truth within much like when a body of water has stillness, it reflects its surroundings. Coming upon this on our walk today reminded me of that.  

Yoga teacher-training is this weekend (Friday, Saturday, Sunday). It's good, but I'm tired :) I cannot wait for Anthony to get home and come to the studio with me to practice. I think it will be such an amazing thing to share together. He seems to be a little worried about "doing it wrong", but as Kristyn says, "It's yoga practice, not yoga perfect." Silly but true. I needed that reminder today.

Seed-Bearing

After researching different types of "tree fruit", I discovered what this thing is. I also ended up taking the whole thing apart to see if it had a nut/seed inside; it didn't. Just lots of fluff and wispy strands with tiny seeds at the base. It belongs to a Sycamore tree. In general, I have a thing for trees and anything that comes from them. I've been finding these (Sam too) all over the ground. Sam likes to paw at them and then proudly carry them around in her mouth during our walks. Maybe she likes the prickly sensation; who knows.

 Anytime I see something like this, aside from being awed by nature's process, I think about the movie, The Fountain. Anthony introduced me to that movie almost a year ago, and I've been in love with it ever since. It's a beautiful story about life (physical/spiritual), love, and what we perceive death and eternal life to be. Perfectly enough, a tree is central to the story, a tree that represents the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden. The Queen of Spain sends a conquistador to find this tree and drink the sap/milk from the tree in order to obtain eternal life for her and her country. He succeeds in doing this, but he gains eternal life by becoming part of the tree. Moments after greedily drinking the sap, he begins to grow leaves and tree limbs from his body until it completely consumes him and he becomes part of the earth near the root-base of the Tree of Life. His human form ceases to exist.

Parallel to this story is that of a doctor obsessed with finding the cure for his ailing wife. This mission consumes him so much that he loses prescious time with Izzy who is open and accepting of her fate. At one point, she takes a seed from a tree and plants it. There's a lot more to the story, but after she passes, her husband takes a seed (similar to the sycamore ones that keep showing up) and uses his hands to dig a hole in the snowy earth to plant it.

I'm losing steam with this post because I can't really explain all of the amazing symbolism and messages in this film, but regardless, finding those seeds make me think of my husband and the amazing process that is life. 

Coca-Cola Classic

One of the things Anthony left behind in the refrigerator is half a case of Coca-Cola Classic. When we first started dating, the man would drink 2-3 cans of soda per night (which made me cringe a little). After all, I grew up on diet everything: diet coke, pepsi, sprite, root bear, ginger ale, cream soda, etc. Therefore, regular soft drinks and the like are unfavorable and make me feel more thirsty than before. 

Anthony always buys Coca-Cola Classic cans, and he always drinks it cold,  either straight from the can or over ice in a tall glass. It's become habit for me to steal a sip (well, maybe 2 sips) from his soda while eating dinner together or watching Jeopardy. And over time, I started liking the taste of regular Coke but never enough to open and finish my own can....until recently.

...hopefully, the answer to the origin of this floating hand

Since Anthony has been gone, I've managed to finish off the half-case that was in the fridge. I'm drinking the last one as a type. I enjoy the taste, but I think I have drunk them more for nostalgic purposes than anything else. Yes, only recently have I created memories around this age-old drink, but those memories are precious to me. Since moving up here, Anthony has also ingrained in me his rinse-out-the-can-before-throwing-it-in-the-trash tradition in order to prevent ants; he tells me this is a Florida thing, but I grew up in Florida too and we never did this. Then again, we always had diet drinks.

Purpose

It's no secret that I haven't been particularly motivated to update my blog. But thanks to my friend, April, I have a fresh perspective on how to use my blog over the next few months. As most of you know, Anthony is on deployment. As of tomorrow, we are halfway through! There are thousands of things, moments, experiences, thoughts, feelings, etc. that make me think of my husband...aside from the general Anthony-is-always-on-my-mind stuff which is a given. So, I'm choosing to bring attention/awareness to these instances through the act of writing about them here.  I feel that it's important to bring specific attention to this so that 1. I don't explode with emotion & thoughts, 2. I have a way, other than Skype, to communicate daily happenings, and 3. it's a positive shift in focus, to do something productive with the "I miss him so much!" feelings.

I'm hoping that the last three mos. move along faster than the first three. I'm hoping it's like the school year: the fall drags and the spring flies.

Read if you like.

Love to all.

 

Race to the Flop

While sitting in traffic the other morning, I heard a brief story on NPR about one of Obama's education-reform tactics called "Race to the Top Fund" (I'm calling it RTF for short). States can apply for funds from this program if they are showing aggressive reform in four, main areas which you can read about here under "Program Description" towards the bottom of the page. Seems a bit generic to me. Aside from being difficult to navigate, the website is lacking clear and helpful information that simply maps out the who, what, where, when, why and how of RTF. The application is 103 pages long and must be verified by the governor of the applying state.

From what I can gather, this program is heavily based on gains: percentage increases in student performance, at-risk students/schools making significant improvement, standards-based assessments that measure student success, highly effective teachers and principals who create/implement/encourage these gains, etc. There is no mention of community, family, parent, or guardian involvement which, from my experience, is the pressing issue. Without this involvement, your attempts to have a massive body of students achieve "success" (however the govt. describes it) are futile. I think the majority of the community must be invested in the education of its children in order for the students to do so. We are still so segregated...it is typical for middle and upper-middle class, white children to be more proficient than African-American children. Drive around your city; it's easy to see. And speaking of segregation, I would like to know who decided to name this program "Race to the Top". Sure, they mean race as in speed; but considering the reality of the public school system + it's racial divide, it's such an unfortunate word to use in this circumstance. Dumb, dumb, dumb.


It is infuriating to hear about programs like RTF because the steps that schools are expected to take in order to apply lead to a dead end. The heavy focus on percentages of "standards-based curriculum" and "standards-based assessments" is insignificant when the curriculum and assessment processes are flawed. For example, a low-achieving school could, in the eyes of the government, meet their Adequate Yearly Progress numbers while more than half of the students may still be deficient in the subject areas for which they were tested. Let's say the number of students reading on-level at Lion Elementary is 15%. In order for Lion to meet AYP, they must show a 20% increase in students reading on-level which means the other 65% of the students remain deficient. Just because a school goes from an "F" to an "A" doesn't mean that all of the students magically caught up with everyone else in the district/state. Sure, there's progress; but this emphasis on scores (and how those tests are scored/who actually scores them is a whole other issue that I won't discuss now) is deceiving. It crops out so many other contributing factors that could aid student achievement.  The government is taking the place of the family because govt. doesn't know how to repair what is so severely damaged. In turn, teachers, principals, numbers, scores, and the like are held responsible for measuring very limited definitions of things like growth and progress. They are hypnotized by these lines of numbers and scores (which now equal dollar signs), failing to see that the answer and their biggest ally lies beyond the schoolyard fence.

Corporate Novelty

Last Monday, I began training for a teller job with Capital One and so far, I am pretty impressed. I'm accustomed to the field of education where there is never enough money spent where it is needed and higher-ups shrug and say, "Oh well. Work with what you've got." I've never been drawn to the business field, but Capital One may be changing my mind. Sure, they spoiled us at orientation with complimentary coffee, tea, and breakfast followed by gourmet sandwiches for lunch. But beyond that, our facilitators seemed genuinely excited to have us join the "team". There's more of a horizontal mentality at Capital One when it comes to their infrastructure; very little emphasis is placed on job titles/positions/hierarchy.

The job I'll be doing is a temporary, summer position that could become permanent. It has been my experience that when you're a temp., you're seen as disposable and pegged for grunt work. However, our facilitators took the time to explain the importance of our position/role and why it was created. Excuse the cheesiness, but they really do use their resources to invest in their people as they want to ensure that you're successful; they encourage you to explore all avenues available and build your own career path within the company. I know: it's a business. They spend money to make money. They're corporate. But it seems like one of few companies that understands...happy employees are more productive :)

Lighten Up

I'm into my 3rd week of being employed again and for the most part, I don't have many complaints...except for one. Now, it has been quite a few years since I worked retail; but I haven't forgotten that some people can be rude and difficult "just because" while others can be delightful and understanding. In the past, this would normally refer to the demeanor of the customers; however, I'm finding that while most of the people at work are pleasant, they aren't necessarily nice, friendly, or incredibly helpful...well, at least this is so for the team with which I usually work. The 5am-9am shift is interesting for me because (1) I am not a morning person and generally dislike needing to be out of the house before 7am and (2) I spend most/all of the shift working alone. I don't expect to be talking about our life stories with each other, but a little bit of conversation while working tends to lighten the mood, especially that early in the morning.  I feel foolish even writing about this as it is only part-time work, but the anti-social-ness bothers me since I am still training.

My most interesting customer so far:
A woman who looked very young for her age (she told me she was 78 but looked like she was in her late 50s) told me not to tell anyone that she grows a garden in her house. She whispered this to me across the register counter as I was ringing up her items.

Entitlement

Over the past year or so, I've become very aware of my "stuff" and how much of it I have. This ranges from tangible to intangible, but for now, I'm mostly talking about the concrete stuff. The more stuff I have, the more weighed down I feel. For example, whenever I'm getting ready to move, I try to consolidate what I absolutely need to keep and sell the rest or give it away. Having to move tons of furniture and whatnot from point A to point B feels like such a chore to me. Most of my large belongings were acquired through Craig's List or thrift stores; maybe this makes it easier to not be so attached or have so much stock placed in certain items. They have a purpose for a time and place and then they're passed on via sale or donation. I'm not sure if this is economically savvy money-wise, but I'd like to believe that it's better, in general, to get something used vs. buying it new for the sake of using the crap out of raw materials vs. disposing them.

I don't want to turn this into a post focused on how wasteful we are as consumers and how we all need to "go green", recycle, etc. More so, I find it curious how being able to waste is almost part of our standard of living. I can't speak for the world, but for the U.S., there is a mentality that it is our right to have anything we want in whatever quantity we desire, and we'll be damned if we go to the store and the item we need is out of stock or we don't have the 50+ color options in lipstick, furniture, paint, etc. I'm not saying we should all wear the same clothes or have the same stuff OR that everything should be rationed out (hello, communism. in a utopia, you would work). But I do think we have a responsibility to be aware of and act as necessary when it comes to "stuff": buying it, disposing of it, saving it, our attachments to it, passing it on... 

This mindset has changed my point-of-view on a few things including books/movies and food/health. I enjoy owning books (especially art books for reference), but over the past year or so, I've been more inclined to just borrow a book from the library (unless I really need to write all over it). Too often, my bookshelves became dust magnets, outlined by the book spines that moved maybe three times per year. With food, I think the simpler, the better. I feel lighter, healthier when my foods have as little preservatives or fillers as possible. However, I have a hard time resisting cupcakes.

I'm not sure I have a point other than how important I think it is to simplify. See Domestic Kate for another perspective on simplicity.

In short, to me, less stuff = simplifying = less attachment to inanimate objects = more brain space = a greater ability to live in the moment.

Jennah-Shoes

Jennah-shoes are the $3.50 rubber flip flops available @ Old Navy (or 2 for $5.00 if you feel thrifty & want more than one color). I call them this because my dear friend, Jennah, wears a pair of these religiously. She and I have never discussed this, but I admire her ability to wear her blue or pink pair of rubber flops with any outfit and make it work. I recently purchased a silver pair just to bum around in since I don't have the stylish capabilities of Jennah + her shoes :)

I met Jennah while teaching; she was one of the kindergarten teachers. After our first time hanging out off campus, we became friends pretty quickly. It also helped that we only lived a few blocks away from each other. I think our bond was sealed when I went through this ordeal... Jennah was the one to help me lug the couch out of the house after a lot of my screaming and freaking out. Our friendship especially progressed when she introduced me to yoga at M Body which led to our joint-participation in their 40 Day program. Besides that, our dogs are boyfriend and girlfriend since they haven known each other since their puppy days. No, really. If either of them hears the others name, they get incredibly excited and start whining or barking.

This weekend, Jennah will be in DC for her friend's bachelorette party. I'm thrilled that I'll be able to steal some of her time. Ever wish you could take people with you, wherever you go?

Cupcakes

     Saturday, Anthony and I went to one of his co-worker's houses for a BBQ. I made cupcakes to go along with the 4 bottles of soda we provided (very healthy, I know). For Easter, my mom sent me this cute, little cupcake recipe book that also includes other concoctions for pies, cakes, and cookies. I have a thing for making (and eating) cupcakes, so I tried the "Chocolate covered Strawberry Tart" cupcake recipe. They turned out delicious, but I have a couple of grievances:
 1. The base for the cake is cookie mix...so they are really cookies with icing on top in cupcake form. 
2. No where in the book does it state that these recipes are for mini-cupcakes. I should have figured this out when I read to only put one teaspoon of cookie batter into each cup, but I didn't read that far ahead before buying the supplies. Therefore, I had to go back & purchase more mix and was only able to make 24 "cupcakes" total.

While these were quite tasty, I think my favorite part was the colors; I think this is usually my favorite part about cooking in general. To me, he more colorful, the more appetizing. Of course it should taste good, but I personally enjoy the presentation aspect of baking or cooking. Maybe that's the visual artist coming out. Anyways, they looked cute: pink cups, chocolate cake, pink frosting, and mini-chocolate chips on top.  

Last summer, I bought a cupcake recipe book. I think I only tried one recipe from that book. While they turned out well, I always seem to have trouble when it comes to making frosting. It's always the wrong consistency, i.e. too runny. Maybe an electric mixer would solve that problem :) Any suggestions are welcome.

Now, go eat a cupcake!

A word on Lady Gaga-Dada-Dali-Warhol

I like Lady Gaga. It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, as is my love for Justin Timberlake and Timbaland. But with Gaga, it's not jut about her music being catchy. I have my reasons :) From what I've read, she is a legitimate musician having been somewhat of a child prodigy with the piano and later attended NYU in order to study music. Mostly though, I think her whole performer-persona is intriguing.

The first thing I am reminded of when I see her videos is performance art and/or what is called an art happening. She also seems like a female, musical-artist version of Andy Warhol; she defines, re-defines, embraces, and utilizes pop as her genre of choice without trying to glorify it into something more pristine. Pop is very disposable. It (a product, a song, a fashion fad, etc.) is desirable one moment and taboo the next, continuously evolving into the next temporary craze. An evolution based on temporaryism which doesn't necessarily improve or depreciate it (pop) in value...hmmm, interesting. Anyways, I appreciate that Gaga understands this and uses it to her benefit through her music, fashion, and video productions. It's difficult to take something like pop and twist it around so that you control it instead of the other way around. If it controls you, you're coined as cheesy, fake, a media puppet (see Brittney Spears). Gaga's style is also very Dada and Dali-esque, incorporating elements of nonsense (the Dada part) and surrealism (the Dali part). Just watch her "Bad Romance" video if you don't know what I mean. Non-functional clothing? Impossible shoes? Headgear that doesn't allow you to actually see? Laying next to a decomposing skeleton? What more do you need...

I also appreciate the status she maintains as a female performer. She's a sex-symbol but in a much more powerful way than Madonna, Brittney Spears, Christina Aguilera, and so on. Again, the biggest difference is Gaga's ability to maintain control (or the illusion of it) over pop, almost creating it as she goes. Performers like Madonna, however, who had great potential to do this, really f-ed it all up when she opted to be sex symbol and well...be a sex symbol. There's this line of trashiness that Madonna always crosses just for the sake of selling her music or rather, her show(s). Don't get me wrong: I enjoy some of her music, but I have virtually no respect for her as a person.

I can do without Gaga's choreography, or lack thereof, as well as her leotards, unitards, whatever-tards. Aside from that I find her and the craze she's created pretty interesting. Is she an asshole for manipulating the pop genre in order to become famous? Maybe. But I find it humorous that she's able to consciously do this and get away with it. Thank you, Andy Warhol, for paving the way.

Slobber & Stuff

You know you're a dog person when the neighborhood dogs' names are retained in your memory instead of the owners' (or if you're blogging about your dog).  I still contest that people are more likely to talk, period, when you're walking a dog. And then there are those awkward times when the stranger gives a little too much attention to your pet and ignores your existence completely. Hmmm.

I'm very thankful for the small dog park area within the apartment complex. I don't take Sam there every day, but it's nice maybe once or twice a week if we didn't get a long walk in that day. Today, Sam met Marty (a 4mo. old Goldendoodle) and Kara and their respective owners, John Doe (with the shaved head) and John Doe (with the Sperry's). Now, most owners are pretty easy-going, especially @ a dog park. It's just understood that your dog is going to run around, bark & growl, sniff and chew stuff that's questionable, slobber, drool, and, well, be a dog. Sam slobbers quite a bit for her size (well, it's more like foam). When gravity starts to take over, it turns into this long, stringy strand of goop just waiting for touchdown.

This, apparently, bothered Mr. shaved head and Mr. Sperry's as they commented on Sam's slobber several times. It got to the point where any time she went near their dogs, they acted as a body guard so that some of her slobber wouldn't touch their fur. I thought about apologizing but decided that was unnecessary and idiotic. Their failed body guard attempts were followed by comments like, "...and I JUST gave Marty a bath!" and "Jeez, Kara. Now you're soaking wet." Really, people? I'd have to say the best part was when Sam, in one of her frantic sprints around the perimeter, bumped into Mr. Sperry's leg and wiped all of her foam onto his shin. I know that sounds mean, but
1. so is passively aggressively implying that my dog is unfit for playing with other dogs due to her drool
2. don't come to a dark park, period, if you aren't planning on you or your dog getting a little dirty...that's like  doing a workout and getting pissed off that you sweat.

Ok. Enough childishness

My interview today went well; I am to expect a call on Sunday or Monday with their decision as they have other people to interview between now and then. Thanks for your good vibes.

A Call-back

Tomorrow morning, I have an interview @ Borders. Hey, it's a start. I haven't heard back from The Phillips Collection Museum which actually has disclaimer on the bottom of their application page that says,  
Due to the volume of applications received, we regret that we are unable to respond to individual inquiries regarding application status. Only candidates selected for interviews will be contacted. Really? No time frame for contacting potential candidates? No time frame for when the job-posting expires? Oh well.

The last job interview I had involved my future superior telling me that it would be unwise for him to place me in a high school teaching position because I looked like I'd date the students. There were many other inappropriate comments made, but I'd have to say that was one of the most difficult interviews to sit through. Here's hoping that tomorrow's is much more pleasant, especially because the manager who called me today said, "Just be sure to bring your witty sense of humor". Hmmm.

Memory of the day: As a kid, I fell off my bike more often than not. My knees are covered in oddly-shaped scars to prove it. 

Explore

Recently, I've been thinking about doing a series of memory-inspired paintings. This thought has crossed my mind several times in the past, but I'm really feeling the want to get some of this stuff out with paint. I have no idea how it will come to fruition, but I suppose that's part of what makes it exciting (and potentially frustrating). I have 8, primed pieces of masonite staring at me, begging for some experimenting to begin. I think I'd like to work from childhood photographs of family/friends/houses etc. There's something very dream-like about memories, especially childhood ones, and my dreams have been exceptionally vivid over the past 3 months. Maybe there's a connection between the two that is worth exploring. 

Speaking of exploring, I've been spending the past 3 weeks feeling out Alexandra, VA, and Washington DC. Being in a new city can be daunting, but overall I think it's healthy for me. I'm somewhat forced to emerge from my comfort zone and embrace naivety, curiosity, and my tendency to get lost while driving. Aside from being a mecca for the visual arts, downtown DC is pretty awesome...and somewhat perplexing. I'm used to New York City which is loud, teeming, paved from head to toe with the trees in little gates. DC is busy, of course, but it feels so much more open than a place like NYC. There aren't really any skyscrapers, and thanks to the museums and historic landmarks/monuments, there are plenty of wide-open parks, fields, and trees. There are so many tourist groups (high schools, bands, middle schools, etc) walking around with their chaperons that it's hard to feel like an outsider. It's actually kind of comforting to know that most of the people you walk past have no idea where they are headed either.

Memory for the day: I learned what the word "explore" meant from my Dad. There was rarely a vacation, day-trip, or weekend drive that didn't involve him pulling over to the side of the road in some desolate area so that we could walk around a piece of property. As a child, I remember asking, "What are we doing?" to which Dad would respond, "We're exploring!" Ok. Cool. We get to walk around in some unknown area (normally through the woods), surrounded by trees, unprepared for any chance encounter with a wild animal. It became one of my favorite things (even though I'm sure I whined about it at the time), and I think this was the birth of my love for nature and tree canopies.

Disassemble

There's a bird I take with me wherever I go. So far, we have been through 5 moves: Mallory to Oleander to Herschel to S. Moon to Casey Key & back to S. Moon. It's a flat silhouette of a turquoise bird made from thin metal. Her wing is raised and there's a hole from her breast to her stomach. This hole houses a small, purple gem attached to the body by a thin, coiled wire. I suppose it represents the heart. And attached to the top of her wing is a simple, leather loop. Through every move, I give her a floating home by looping the leather strap around the ceiling fan chain of my bedroom(s). Inanimate object? Sure. But she remained constant as I moved in to one place, moved out of another, rearranged, ripped apart, put back together, lost friends, gained friends, laughed, cried, prayed, cursed...everything.

At the end of September, I resigned from my teaching job. My world, it seemed, was falling apart. It's stupidly obvious now but if you're not happy, the job, salary, benefits, apartment, and routines mean nothing. I'd become this desensitized vessel, going through the motions of what I thought I should be doing instead of what I wanted to be doing. I realized shortly after I left Jacksonville that I just hadn't been listening to myself. I didn't pay attention, and this was due to a major lack of trust within. I've started rebuilding that over the past 4 months, but sometimes it still feels like I'm taking things apart and unearthing little gems that are initially covered in crap.

Above all, I'm learning how important it is to trust and listen to oneself. It is only by doing this that I am then able to truly help others...to move from selfishness to selflessness. As Marianne Williamson says, "Your playing small does not serve the world. There is nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you." I think my little bird is a great reminder of this.

The most honest lie

Halloween, I'm finding, is a favorite holiday of many. What's not to love about it? People of all ages, shapes, and sizes get to dress up in some ridiculous (or totally awesome) costume to exercise some aspect of an alter ego. It's one day out of the year during which everyone is okay with each other acting a little goofy, weird, peculiar, eccentric, etc. I think somewhere between the planning, trick-or-treating, partying, and dressing as someone/something else, a more honest part of ourselves comes out. Maybe we should wear costumes more often.

As I sat with my sister on her front porch, waiting to treat trick-or-treaters, I thought about how Halloween is one of the most honest holidays. Absent are the attempts to convince children of Santa or the Easter bunny's existence (you can throw the tooth fairy in there too, though she/he doesn't have a holiday per say)....or stories about "pilgrims and indians" sitting down to a nice, harmonious, well-intentioned feast (eh-hem, we'll leave out the whole part about colonists giving the Native Americans furs that were infected with smallpox). Granted, our holidays have become entirely manufactured and commercialized (don't get me started). But I respect Halloween. Everyone knows what the traditions are without all the bickering and controversy. People seem to happily participate without a lot of fuss, other than the fuss over their costumes. Trick-or-treating starts at dusk; kids show up with questionable pillow cases held out for candy deposits; parents bring their infants and toddlers and walk their young ones through the neighborhoods; a lit porch light means candy is available....It's all very simple.

In short, I love Halloween for it's ability to bring out some awesomeness in just about everyone. All it takes is a little lie with a mask to bring out some honesty. Besides, who doesn't like free candy?

Thank you, Eric Weiner.

Recently, I finished reading The Geography of Bliss by Eric Weiner. Weiner worked for a decade as a journalist for NPR and then decided to explore (physically, philosophically, etc.) the happiest places in the world and their reason for being such. This was recommended to me by my dear friend, Jennah. NPR journalist + travel + happiness is a recipe for grabbing my attention.

He explores 10 regions: The Netherlands, Switzerland, Bhutan, Qatar, Iceland, Moldova (one of the least happy places in the world), Thailand, Great Britain, India, and America. I won't go on and on as if this is a book report, but this book really is a perfect balance of discovery, humor, self-exploration, philosophy, research, and travel.

There are many, many parts of this book that are thought-provoking to me, but I'll just pick 1 item for now.


Weiner writes,
...places are like time machines. They transport us back to years past. Rebecca Solnit observes, "Perhaps it's true that you can't go back in time, but you can return to the scene of a love, of a crime, of happiness, and of a fateful decision; the places are what remain, are what you can possess, are what is immortal." That's why we feel so disoriented when these touchstones from our past are altered...

Landscape (the respect and preservation of it) is a very powerful thing that is so easily bulldozed in America. For me, there is an excitement when visiting a city like New York or Boston where so much from the past has been maintained and utilized in the present. It's hard to feel any connection to a new strip mall that will surely be empty and demolished within a few years, only to be built again across the street. This same excitement exists in the presence of historic sites from the civil war...to think (and feel) that the same trees and earthworks were probably there all those years ago is incredible.

Anyways...

For a long time, I thought that a strong person should be able to maintain some kind of happiness regardless of where he/she was or who he/she was with. I've decided over the past few months that this little theory is total bullshit :) What happens without is just as significant as what happens within, and they are relative. Sometimes, seemingly everything without is hellish and chaotic (work, friends, finances, etc.) while inner strength & calm remains. Sometimes, the opposite is true. And then there are times when a balance exists.

The House

I had a dream the other night about a house. It was an old, two-story like the ones in Riverside with sizeable back and side yards. In the yard was an endless amount of junk...bird fountains, statues, lounge chairs, flower pots, mosaic tiles (stuff that seemed like junk because there was so much of it cluttered throughout).

The first level of this house was where I lived; I was renting, I believe. And I hated it. More junk in every corner and open space, dirty linens, musty towels and rags bunched up on shelves (note: a pet peeve of mine is when people leave damp towels/rags in a heap), papasan and mamasan chairs without cushions, dusty pillows, furniture everywhere. In short, it looked like a very unorganized thrift or antique store, invading every room and making it impossible to feel at home. I remember feeling frustrated because after all, this house had incredible square footage but no where to actually "live".

The second floor did not belong to me. In fact, I didn't have access to it. But somehow, I managed to scale part of the exterior, brick wall and pull myself up to peak in the window. There were no screens or glass, only a plastic dropcloth taped to the top of the sill, letting the breeze blow it around. For a moment, the breeze blew the plastic up so that I could see inside. The moment I saw inside, I felt at peace. And I had this great desire for that space to be mine instead of the first floor. What was on this second floor? Well, nothing. Absolutely nothing. Just an empty, slightly dusty large, sunny space through which the breeze could blow. I wanted to yell "Sanctuary!"

I'm not one to interpret dreams, but this one seems like a big, fat metaphor for what's been going on over the past few months. Lots of housekeeping/housecleaning with personal baggage, friendships, relationships, excess, attachment, detachment, etc. I can only assume that the 2nd floor symbolized the simplicity and openness that comes along with letting go, and I think that's why I yearned for it so much in my dream. I could go on, but I'll leave it at that.

Routines

There's this old woman who walks up and down the main strip in San Marco at night. I've seen her several times now. It is guaranteed that she will make her way to the San Marco Theatre, stand outside the main doors and peer inside at the person manning the cash register. She's always wearing the same thing: a large-floral print, button-down shirt with an ankle length navy blue skirt and loafers. Her gray hair is in a loose, low bun and her glasses sit a bit crooked on her nose. Her leathery arms are always folded. I discovered by eavesdropping at the theatre that she asks, everyday, to see a movie for free, even if it's the same movie. After all, SMT only plays one movie per night, two per day if they're feeling ambitious. So, she stands there staring at the owners until they cave in or until they outwardly deny her access.

I wonder where this woman is from, how she got here, why she always wears the same clothes, why I only see her at night, and if she has a place to stay. And she probably wonders why I'm always at the same Starbucks sketching...that is, if she even notices. She doesn't seem to see anything except for what's directly in front of her.

Over the past few months, I've become more and more curious about the bums (or those who seem like bums) around Riverside and San Marco. I see the same ones almost every day, and when I don't see them for a while, I worry that they're not alive anymore or that they've been hurt. This is especially true for the black man I see stumbling up and down Stockton, always carrying a big trash bag and wearing shoes that barely have a sole and a striped shirt that looks like it used to be gray and white horizontal stripes; now it's just brown. He's always wandering halfway in the south-bound lane, traffic having to purposefully avoid him. He worries me the most.

I have half a mind to stop and ask all those same questions I'd like to ask that woman, but things like common sense and fear stop that from happening. Still, I can't help my curiosity and my desire to know what it is they need. I'd like to photograph them and write their story, but that just seems like exploitation.