la vie en route

i am moving

2007-04-07T00:21:00.000-07:00

follow me and reset your blog subscriptions to my new warehouse of collected musings- MY CONSOLIDATED BLOG

(springtime is the perfect time to purge and i am consolidating all my blogs into the new one listed above. come visit me there. we'll sit. do tea tastings. pick out swatches of wallpaper.)

joy comes in small packages

2007-04-04T22:03:00.000-07:00

i needed to drop off clean pans at my house before driving to the mission to study, so i double parked in front of my house. across the street, i couldn't believe my luck, there was a woman and her son playing badminton. across the street from my house. i got so excited i couldn't focus on the tasks at hand, instead yelling out, "wow, you're playing badminton."

my love affair with badminton... i remember being in a slum in india talking to its residents about their culture and their lives and before we wrapped up the interview i said i had one final question in a very serious tone, "do you play badminton?" i love the guys who wear the knee braces and sports accoutrements showing, yes, they mean business on the badminton court, the ones who also grunt and make painful cries in hopes of hitting the zingers and clearing them out. this just reiterates i need to get back into the groove of playing at the community center! so it seems every time i see people playing badminton, the six year old in me leaps out of my mouth as i try to suppress all limbs from jumping into someone else's game.

and so it was no surprise that the woman gave me a quizzical look, a "yes" and resumed batting around the shuttlecock. i took the pans inside and walked back out, commenting to the badminton duo that if i saw them playing again, i might be forced to come join their game since i have a racket in the garage. "you live across the street?" and her face softened (i know my enthusiasm sometimes is a bit arresting when it presents itself)

she (natalie) then held out her racket to me and said, "so you play?"

there, on that sidewalk in my flouncy cupcake skirt, i got into proper badminton form and hit it to her son andrew whose eyes grew wide in surprise as i leapt forward to catch the birdie before it settled in a tree. a few more volleys back and forth and i convinced myself to give the nice neighbor back her racket and get off to the coffeehouse to study. we all waved at each other as i sped off with my roommate and one of our friends in tow. nice to meet the neighbors under such fun circumstances.

well. crap.

2007-04-03T23:55:00.000-07:00

packet number two is almost done. for the second time, i read a poem aloud to a group of around 25 sunday night.

so here's tonight's question: why do we hurt one another? i mean the intentional and the unintentional digs. would this go back to our human nature post-eden thanks to adam and eve or is this a God question. does God hurt God? good friday would seem to point to yes, but that kind of hurt involves a deeper magic unknown to the whole lot of us or maybe it doesn't. it involves staying true to a promise and commitment and seeing it through to completion. i should really be in bed, but i wanted to throw it out there before the night passes into morning.

in packet two, i read a bunch of poems hinting at war or drenched with it by the likes of robert bly and allen ginsberg commenting on viet nam. today on my way home from work, i wondered at my placidity towards iraq- not emanating from a salivating-hate-mongering space that has so adeptly seduced the area in which i live, but from a bush-lied-about-weapons-of-mass-destruction space. plain and simple. lied. and yet the war of words and the flexing of ultimatum muscle between president and congress today smacks of kindergarten.

so maybe this is getting away from the main point, but why do we hurt one another?

phoenix rising

2007-04-02T22:30:00.000-07:00

in an email sent out last week, we learned that the faculty person nominated for the program by her colleagues had chosen to accept the position, now also extended by the administration. the weight of the words from the week before had been rescinded! we joyfully continued the analysis of poems aplenty. and i await what will be borne from the ashes left behind from the fires that looked to burn forest, field and stars.

below was my last ditch pitch sent out march 26th when all seemed most bleak and dire.

*************************************************************

Hello Ms. xxxxx,

I have been writing poetry for a long time and never really foresaw it enveloping me on such a large scale before last year. Having worked in the business community for almost five years, I believe I understand what makes a good business work and can make a good business fail. Good communication and organization, such small but crucial elements can make or break a company. When I began the arduous process of looking for the right school, I made color charts of pros and cons, along with an entire list of faculty at each school, dedicating myself to researching them to ascertain who I wanted to learn from and why. The asterisks and highlights flew all over my list of current xxxxx faculty. What you have with this core faculty is a camaraderie that extends down into the student body and leaves little room for power distance between teacher and student. I had such a sense of this before attending my first residency and was not disappointed.

As a first year student, we all shared with each other especially how on graduation night, we had truly landed in the right community where each of our different gifts could be nurtured and grown. Today, I felt the first pangs of disillusionment about the whole messy affair. Deep down, I want to believe this is mendable. And I still believe, along with the whole lot of us that it is. The thing here is that I could have chosen another school- we all could have, but we chose this one and we are still here, hanging on by a thread.

And the thing is I want to study about narrative poetry under xxxxx. I want to understand how xxxxx can so innovatively make form enjoyable to my non-trained ear. I want to hear xxxxx sing before he opens up a reading or reach down and find the right anecdote to set up the poem he's about to read. I want to learn from xxxxx how to show and not tell in my poems and then chat about our similar backgrounds in journalism during the tea break. I want to listen to xxxxx moving readings of his work that bring tears to my eyes. I want to learn how to dissect a poem into multiple parts the way xxxx skillfully does. I want to experience more of xxxxx poetic energy first hand and then eat a grilled cheese sandwich next to her for dinner. I want to learn how to tighten and pare down my thoughts from xxxxx and hear more of his most current collected quotes. I am thrilled that I have xxxxx as my mentor this semester- she is truly one of the reasons I found the pull so forceful to come to this school.

These are things that cannot be replaced. These people cannot be replaced.

Please reconsider the rotating directorship beginning with the representative voted in unanimously by the faculty. This seems a good checks and balance system through which self-governance can maintain itself. If they thrive, so does the program and school. They do not want to fail in this endeavor- they believe in it too much, which has been evidenced in last week's blanket resignation. Please allow them the opportunity to give it a go and allow the students a voice in this seemingly powerless situation.

Please consider the mediation suggestion put forth by xxxx as a viable path- it may be expensive, but more so would be the cost of losing an entire program that is unique unto itself in the United States. I don't have to be in school to be a poet, but it has thoroughly turned my world upside down and I voraciously want to find reconciliation to restore a modicum of what we, the first years experienced during our first residency. It is still not too late to mend things. It takes great courage to proceed down the harder path, but this is a path worth the effort. The smattering of current MFA students and many alums' emails point to this. Please everyone- faculty and administration- reconsider.

Respectfully,
a.z.

letter from G-D

2007-03-28T18:52:00.000-07:00

My good friend Alan just moved into the urban jungle that is New York. On his blog today, he inquired of his readers: "if God wrote you a letter, what would it say?" He then proceeded to share his letter from God (that he wrote) and encouraged us to do likewise in the comments field. Below is my letter from God (G-D since this would be from the fire-on-the-mountain-but-only-Moses-is-able-to-convene-with-him-God. Please share your letter from God if you want in the comments section- Alan, could you repost yours there as well?

**************
Dear Annelies,

I love you just the way you are, even or especially in the moments when life's drama seems to grow into a gargantuan beastie. You really try to seek Me in all you do, and I see it.

A few weeks ago, when you told me "yes" the kind of carte blanche "yes" required of the road of faith, I heard it.

You need to continue learning to trust Me- that your little hands can only accomplish so much and believe that I won't let you down. I have never left you yet, little one and I have given you the promise that I will "never leave nor forsake you."

Believe that this will make you stronger and then just hang on, for I am about to show you great and mighty things you do not know. But you have to believe and live the belief every day. I see you. I am with you. I hear you and love you. Now follow me.

Love,
G-D

how the mighty have fallen: part two

2007-03-26T20:13:00.000-07:00

here's a thing i wrestle with understanding: my disposition is typically so full of joy and yet the words i pen lay their head in the dark crevices of life. it feels duplicitous, yet when i sit down to write, it's what comes out of my mouth. today, i described feeling like a little child hobbling along a war-ravaged sarajevo in my air splint, smiling and laughing as bombs go off on either side. thank God for the silence of this past weekend.

last wednesday, i received an email from the faculty of my school letting us know each and every one of them resigned. i laughed at the audacity of such a gesture, but thought that it was mere negotiation tactics 101, taking it to the next level. disgruntled as they were with the administration, i thought things could be amended. today, after a second letter, sent from a different faculty person, i am not so sure.

here's the thing i wrestle with tonight: God's handprint was so larger than life on this, how is it that it all might fall apart? i saw my future writing career being nurtured at this school, among this faculty and now it appears to be in shambles.

deep down, like deep magic, it still feels a bit of the farce, like somehow peace can come of all of this. anytime a war begins between two bodies of people with separate ideas and the passionate might to stand behind them, it can seem as though peace dwells far away in a land beyond reach. i'm breaking my rule again, about not posting poetry online on my blog because after work tonight. it will give me ease at sharing what came out of me as the culmination of the endless emails going back and forth between administration and students came to a head. if you pray, please pray for reconciliation. i still want to be a part of this school and study under these crazy, impassioned poets and the glimmer of hope abides within me. a glimmer, but a beacon nonetheless.

bursting at the soil

debris filters down from heaven, all dusty
snowflakes and ash, down onto the grimy
ground littered with war paraphernalia
painted in bold black letters, statements shouting
from an originally slender white sheet,
its quiet silenced with the noise of anger
words thick and portent.

we think, or try to remember before the carnage
of today, this road a week ago, all glistening
green boughs swinging down their joyous melody,
the cheery yellow faces of the daisies raised
toward the sun, drinking in its elixir, warmed into
spreading their slender white petals up and out,
an offering.

footsteps have tramped through the once
lush leaves of grass, flattening them with grief
and a tomorrow that looks as grim as the battle cry
resuming from the barracks, the artillery reloaded,
as roots still hidden look to push through and puncture
the saddened land anticipating the cool veil of rain’s

revenge, gentle as a whisper, more virulent than cancer,
displacing the soot and sorrow with its steady hand,
each drop pelting back a forceful response,
eating holes into the bold black letters, paper ripping,
weakening under the pressure of the earth’s gladness.

rough, really

2007-03-26T00:19:00.000-07:00

so i am contemplating my weekend of silence and though i am loath to put up poems on here, this one is really rough, so i can't imagine anyone wanting to take and make a run for it with these words of mine... more on the weekend to come later. for now:

i, the ant

we have been here before,You and i
the scenery’s similarity recalls
a younger me walking down a road

much like this one, a smaller handprint
nudged into packed snow flanking the neighbor’s
yard, a signmarker, in case i miss the crumbs

left behind and can’t find my way back to where
i stand, now, the pine trees stand stately, proud
pointing up and out, never pointing back.

do You ever grow tired of this conversation,
of me nudging my way into the latest adventure
the oft-encountered mishap, hobbling along

expecting you to come find me, save me from
that darned faulty inner compass pacing
steps to the left and sometimes in the right

direction. i see Your imprint emblazoned on all i pass,
in this snowy haven, that warmth envelops me with its downy
shawl, crossing the threshold on a patch of Your yard,

i, the ant, walk on.

embarking into a weekend of silence

2007-03-23T18:06:00.000-07:00

i leave in about 10 minutes for a guided silent retreat near lake tahoe. the throes of silence leave me restless typically yearning for city sounds, for civilization. at the end of the day it's probably the sounds of "others" in proximity that is the comfort food of sound for me.

and so i will write in my journal, still my thoughts, hobble on the snow in my air splint and crocs, and extend prayer into the limbs manuevering me into the gargantuan Quiet (grateful for the 19 other warm bodies in close proximity whose breathing will be salve to this extroverted soul.) have a good weekend.

how the mighty have fallen: part one

2007-03-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

and then some. on my way to the library monday night i walked, minding my own business, intent on the throes of sneaking a small cup of frozen yogurt into the hallowed hall, more because of the sheer illicit factor of will i get caught, i was caught except it happened outside.

while securing the yogurt in my purse, i didn't see a pothole: mistake numero uno. my traitorous ankle decided to forego living and like a soap opera diva fainted in midstep, twisting, bringing down the brunt of my weight to crash into the graveled sidewalk. i could see it happening but when my ankle decides to peter out, it's too late. i am learning to fall better though. as the ankle turned, i could see the next scene unfolding in my mind's eye and i muttered, "oh no." sprawled on the ground in a graceful position, i rose to find my black tights torn and a burning sensation above my kneecap where bright, glistening blood covered the mangled flesh. i hobbled into the library convinced this was a minor detour from the studying and analyses of james wright's poems for the evening. with a ten-year old band aid and after i washed the wound with water and soap in the toilette, i sat down at a desk, determined to feel the intensity of longing and affection for the river adige in verona. that is until, the burning sensation resumed anew and i looked down to find the bandage permeated by blood.

my friend michelle majored in public health in college, so she seemed a suitable choice to determine whether or not this needed to be stitched. she called over her next door neighbor annie, who works in some sort of eye surgery to assess the damage. we turned on all the lights and michelle squeezed a baby flashlight so annie could see the wound better. the prognosis, no stitches required but there were pieces of gravel embedded in the muck of blood and skin. she skillfully attacked with tweezers and i repeated the phrase of what seemed to be infinitely more painful than having tweezers poking at an open wound. the patient would live after all. :) michelle fed me a feast of edamame, tempura veggies and rice with a hot cup of iron goddess of mercy tea with ginseng. she is such a good hostess, mill valley's own florence nightingale. i drove home and gingerly approached each step up to my house as a grave decision.

in the e.r. the next day, a woman sitting two seats away with her back turned to me entertained herself by speaking in russian aloud which sounded like she was conducting a full on conversation with the occasional laugh and well-timed cackle. i have thought before and am reassured now that if i ever despair of writer's block all i need to do is sit in an e.r. waiting room for a spell and the spell will be broken. this did nothing to revoke my confirmation of this sentiment. other messiness brews, but another blog, another time. for now, you can call me "the hobble"

on learning new words

2007-03-14T21:30:00.000-07:00

when i returned from my trips yesterday, i spotted a big yellow envelope resting against the stairwell slats, happily expectant. oh yes, the response packet from my first mfa assignment packet waited for me to rip it open. i smiled and sighed spoors of relief- maybe this all really will work out in the end. so, in essence it was better than expected and i have begun the revision process.

the art of revision: cutting, pasting, sampling the new, trashing it for the discarded, end words replaced, end words moved back to original position, suction of servitude to words placed upon the screen or sheaf, breathing life enough that it will stand on its own in another voice blanketing my own.

my assignment for this new packet is to work the word "whorl" into a poem organically. i thumbed through the oxford dictionary at the library tonight and uncovered the meaning of this word, used in a glimmering poem by li-young lee and its newness excited me into the audacity of writing a poem just to use it.

whorl- a fingerprint in which the central papillary ridges turn through at least one complete circle.

chicago- open your mouth

2007-03-12T21:16:00.000-07:00

I woke up at 3:30 this morning to fly out to Chicago to work a food festival event. This will be brief and photos will be forthcoming. Needless to say I met some stellar chefs and enjoyed seeing their softer friendly sides. I served tea next to Takashi and enjoyed chatting with his wife Kathy. They will be opening their new restaurant in Chicago soon and he just left the Wynn in Las Vegas. Ming Tsai mingled and made jokes with attendees. David Burke is jovial and approachable. His Las Vegas restaurant opens next week. Paula Deen and her husband were focal points during the VIP section of the evening. Cat Cora sought me out until I mentioned being vegetarian and then she agreed that her pulled pork buns would not really work with my diet. Paul Kahan busily shook hands and plated amuse bouche sized morsels. I spoke with Giada de Laurentiis about candying fruit peels and iron chef. She is gracious and lovely, which is always nice to discover people who are friendly on-screen have the singularity of character in person as well. Art Smith is kind and I have enjoyed his cookbook "Back to the Table" for years. Tyler Florence played the role of auction announcer during an intense high monetary extravaganza (the most exciting thing being auctioned was a business class ticket to London, where then the recipient would have breakfast with Nigella Lawson at the Wolsely and dinner with Jamie Oliver at one of his restaurants. How cool is that?)

Even with all these fun chef sightings and mini-conversations, Gale Gand was the bright spot of my evening. Her husband Jim had been a kind face among throngs of people all night long and though I wasn't absolutely sure he was her husband, he mentioned his wife worked with pastries and loved tea. I sent him back with a cup of black tea/lavender/tilleul/verbena/mango/black currant tea. She came over later to gush about how much she liked the tea which led into further conversation. She has done much for pastries in Chicago and nationally is considered one of the movers and shakers. Our conversation addressed building gingerbread houses. I told her she has a great husband (he was one of these people who came over and asked questions, genuinely interested and not with any celebrity). She then proceeded to ask me if I was married (no) and to exhort me not to settle, that when I marry I need to find someone and hold out for someone like Jim. She married when she was 45 and it was this beautiful unexpected evolution in our conversation. All in all, it was a good evening of connections and sightings.

anaheim- day two

2007-03-08T21:08:00.000-08:00

today's organic pavilion in which we planned to participate started at 12:30. i had requested labor from the decorating company to help me carry products to the tent. after an hour of waiting for them to show up and three phone calls, the freight supervisor listened to me and within ten minutes, a smiling man driving a forklift showed up at my booth- christmas came early!

in the organic pavilion, i met the most delightful woman, ceo of an organic frozen food company (and a naturpathologist). her attitude and down-to-earth nature made her such a cool neighbor to work near. the breakout brand at this show is adina- they make "world beat beverages" which just sounds cool and they taste good too. when we finished bringing back all of the items from the organic pavilion, we heard drums outside and throngs of asian instrumentalists struck drums and played other instruments, while two men gave new definition to head banging. they swung their heads in circles and the ribbon attached to their hats made loops around the periphery of their bodies. a cool beginning to the evening.

anaheim- day 1

2007-03-07T22:30:00.000-08:00

southern california welcomes tourists with thoughts of sun, flip-flops and lots of fast food (anaheim seems to have a steakhouse and every chain imaginable). the guys at the organic valley booth nearby agreed to watch my booth so i could go check on labor. this guy kurt has a tattoo on his forearm of all the main players busts of "the godfather"! how cool is that?

i walked back to the hotel after finishing up. and as i walked i asked God to reveal to me how to pray for this place, which seems embroiled in disneyland but must have a semblance of residents, as evidenced by some young boys walking down the street. i am excited to share with you that i am going to france in may to support some friends there who are going to plant a church, by prayerwalking the city and singing/music. i will share more in the upcoming weeks about where we are going and the trip itself.

tonight after finishing up building our booth, i met up with sandra, a friend from college for dinner. this was the first meet and greet with her new boyfriend, so of course it was mandatory for some minor grilling. he gets brownie points for having good taste in women (sandra is quite the catch), a dry sense of humor and the ability to read hebrew. we ate dinner in long beach at a small eatery called "babette's feast" tomorrow we will be exhibiting at the fresh ideas organic marketplace- organic bevvies and food, good times.

the impending Quiet

2007-03-05T21:21:00.000-08:00

in the pungent quiet, i can smell my thoughts, burning grass sifting to Heaven in thin plumes, incense. that childhood's innocence and clarity of the way it all would be provoked me with such certainty at nine or eleven. there's something sharpening about teenagers on fire when your own is a cinder smoking and you can't figure out whether the nine-to-five hours muddle the message or if it's indigestion but here i am looking in the dark for orion's sign- the certainty of spring. wings and roots, this age-old game toy with the time given and there is such uncertainty embedded in the inner voice, wishing in ways that i could just step back into the carefully-laid plan of being an m, that life could cease its complications. but instead i lie underneath a starless night staring up at the black expanse, void of moon's illumination. mirth lies with me, a cock-eyed grin on her face. He looks down upon us expectantly, waiting for me to say yes to the question that is my certain mystery.

packet 1 going in the mail

2007-03-01T22:55:00.000-08:00

domani.

tonight i am happy to have it printed out and ready though questioning in the 11th hour it's quality. yesterday it all looked good. tonight, it's shite. and tomorrow it will be in the mail on the way to my poetry mentor. almost there and glad for the break of this weekend before it all starts up again monday. cheers to you, reader.

Life in Death

2007-02-26T23:23:00.001-08:00

We have been in a bit of a silent period, He and I, as if He’s on His side of the bed and I am on mine, both of us enthralled by our own worlds of discovery in the books we read- be it The Book of Life or To Bedlam and Partway Back. My back faces Him and we are in bed together. His still, silent presence makes Him no less next to me.

There is a straining to humanity, not indigenous to male or female, we both sense that life is harder than it had to be. If we smell the air long enough, if our ears take in the most acute sounds like the elegant motorized cadence of the hummingbird’s wings, it is there, it is visible. My eyes can almost make out the shape of that old tree, if my neck bends far enough back into the past, visible now in only glimpses, its stately shape silvered and wise, boughs bending down and up, over and out, strong enough to succumb to his plucking of fruit, her convincing words.

It all begins there, really. And for me now, it does not end here. There is more, but right now He is silent and I have my back toward Him. Until Saturday evening.

Lying in bed tired from a night’s revelry with friends, I slept, on my side, arms purposefully lengthened to draw my shoulders away from my neck. Sleep is one of the rare instances when all is really right with the world: when our meager bodies remind us we are created not creator, when we refresh and refuel so we may conquer the day ahead. Once I am asleep, I am dead to the world until magically, eight hours later I awaken without assistance, a well-crafted machine that is man.

This particular evening, something woke me in the pitch of night’s apex. Through the haze of slumber, a small familiar sound pulled back the gauzy curtains of sleep. As I began the task of discerning what was making the sound, I wrestled with whether or not it was a loud squeaking or a screech. The folds continued peeling back as I grew increasingly alarmed, realizing either a family of rats lay outside my window waiting to ambush me or a band of bats. My eyes opened and took in the darkness that surrounded me as the sound grew. I surveyed the floor for any sign of vermin present and distinguished that the sound indeed was outside. As I lay still in bed, I finally spoke to Him.

“Please don’t let them come in here!”
“Make them go away!”
“I believe You are capable of banishing them from my presence that they may never return. I do. Believe You.”

And the screeching halted. It did not die away or saunter off in the midnight’s air, it ceased. In the last shreds of the fear I clung to as a blanket that would shroud me, I contemplated sleeping or not sleeping in my bedroom that night. After all, they had been outside, what if they returned? I mulled over whether or not I could actually fall asleep now that it had been disturbed by the sounds of night animals cavorting against the pane of glass keeping them at bay. And I sank back, down into the feathered pillow cradling my head and let go. In this instant, I had become increasingly aware of the vulnerability of our bodies while they sleep, previously only ascribed to babies and small children. We too are children in our own right, just taller sometimes.

The next morning I pushed the sleep from the edges of my eyes, forcing myself to get up and go to yoga, though rolling over sounded much more appetizing. Thoughts of the night before and its resulting midnight conversation spoken in the darkness supplanted any other thoughts from rising. I knew even if I asked my roommate Lori if she had heard anything, she would say no, that those screeches had been meant for me. That my will lately has been so strong, He may only get my attention when nothing else vies for it, when I am at peace, when all is right with the world.

So is this the end? No it’s somewhere in the middle of my story and perhaps three quarters of the way of ours.

A man’s words rang in my ears that Sunday morning:

“Why are you on the shore when you can be in the river? Dipping a toe or dunking a foot isn’t being completely in the river.”

My life’s safety nets illuminated around me in that day-glo orange hue and then there was context for the screeching, the river, the silence.

“Why are you trying so hard to do this all on your own? Why don’t you trust Me? You’re not doing a very good job all by yourself and yet you persist. Let go of the ledge of earth upon which you stand firmly, feet dug into the soil. See that I am good and I will never leave you nor forsake you.”

Context averted my eyes from my belly button to gaze instead at shafts of light squeezing in between panes of colored glass ,and shining through those stained glass windows, its boughs shrugged under the weight of the shiny fruit. There is life in death.

in case you are wondering

2007-02-20T14:26:00.000-08:00

i think i have the flu. i leave right now to go to the doctor for her assessment. so after a morning of work, i found this fun website where you upload a photo and it will show you your "celebrity look-alikes". what is interesting is that james spader seems to be on all of the collages i have tried- he and janeane garofalo. who knew?

Daddy's celebrity look-alike collage

2007-02-20T14:19:00.000-08:00

let's just say he's a one of a kind. so far none of the three photos i have tried have brought up any celebrity matches.

Tio Bibi's celebrity look-alike collage

2007-02-20T14:17:00.000-08:00

Erika's celebrity look-alike collage

2007-02-20T14:16:00.000-08:00

mom's celebrity look-alike collage

2007-02-20T14:09:00.001-08:00

my celebrity look-alike collage

2007-02-20T13:45:00.000-08:00

a valentine reminisces

2007-02-14T22:58:00.000-08:00

work today felt sing-song in its approach to time. each woman received a long-stemmed red rose from rob, our in-house do-gooder. one of the flowers crushed when a colleague picked it out of the bunch and she decided to sprinkle the office floor with red rose petals. i provided homemade brownie bites that whole foods baked up and sang along with sappy, cheesy songs on pandora for fun, taunting my cubicle mates by squeaking out lyrics to lionel richie and michael bolton songs in my raspy cold-ridden voice.

tonight i indulged the gift of argent that my mom bestowed upon me in a bottle of the rare, limited edition black satin nail polish. let me set the scenario for you: i am strolling through nordstrom and remembering her voice saying "treat yourself to something special" and look at my own poorly havocked nails, chipped with the dark mahogany polish revealing flecks of white nail underneath. on a lark, i walk over to the chanel counter. my eyes hardly believe it, but there are two bottles of the black satin nail polish. two. i had tried three times before and every time they had been sold out. on ebay right now, you can purchase a bottle of it for the cheap price of $36.64 (from the u.k.) or the expensive price of $40.00. for nail polish. this is a no brainer and the cheshire cat in me is grinning. black nails are all the rage in the clawing couture realm after all...

fast forward: it's a study night and as i saunter into border's i am visibly dismayed at all the bodies crowding over the tables. shouldn't they all be on dates? at least that guy seated at the good table near the plug, maybe his dream girl will call right now to see if he wants to take a last minute visit to a north beach eatery. hmm. i get my coffee and then see one table open in the midst of all these "study" groups of college kids (who really should have been out on dates with each other). ipod-armed, coldplay turned up, i tackle my first mfa paper. and finish it within two hours. whoo hoo! i will look at it again in a few days to embellish and edit, but this task deemed only a week ago as impossible has now been conquered. here's to poet sharon olds for her incredible way with words. may even an iota slip into my style.

and now i sit typing, jet black nails tapping on computer keys, gleaming in the dim evening light as a pearled aroma of rose petals crushed underfoot clings to my nostrils- the not-so distant happy memory of a valentine's day.

life drenched with color like a diebenkorn

2007-02-05T22:38:00.000-08:00

so tomorrow i am taking a day off from work.

it will go something like this: sleep in, have a protein-packed breakfast, immerse myself in poems about war, death, innocence lost and sex, lunch, a good walk around the neighborhood, then back into the throes of jerusalem after world war II with jews questioning identity in a city that throbs with the lifeblood and pain of a woman in labor before her time, next off to a meeting with a new friend, dinner and depending on if i finish my reading for the day, i may sneak in a movie...

it could have gone like this: sleep in, eat breakfast, poetry immersion, go to local hole-in-wall teahouse, call tea guru james norwood pratt and see if he wants to meet up for tea in chinatown, then back to poetry (in the end this is what i would enjoy, but the other is probably what i need).

i surround myself in my boudoir with hues of aqua, purple and a splash of coral. nothing ever seems to be a straight line in my life. even passage to india i have a feeling will be more in the shape of a paisley, a lotus flower perhaps, but not a line. i wear black and white so my lips can be tomato red.

so this is how it goes down: i take what is offered and my life is bound to books and a computer. shackles of solitude and service.

how it could go down: 30 hours a week devoted to computer and then that pesky 24 devoted to the words with time left over to soak them in. it took me one hour to read three poems today by yehuda. he blows my brain open again and again. the words so multi-dimensional that i feel inebriated and unable to catch all the brassy intent even the third time around. time to drink in his words and let mine flow like his on a page. time enough for a splash of coral in the sultry blues of the everyday.

It had to be (part one)

2007-01-29T21:01:00.000-08:00

Doing the right thing feels good all the time right? Um kind of. As veiled as I would want to be, I feel that would confound the things I want to say.

I told my bosses two days ago that I want to step down from my job. By no means is this me "quitting the company" but I felt that given the sales goals we have for this year, we need someone to step into my job that has the clout / degree / experience / contacts and can forge that new path for us. It also means that I need my space for creative energy and things like homework, mulling over a poem for an hour in the evening and not feeling like it's wasted time when I should be working.

Today, it hit me. Crap. What did I do?! I just gave up a job I love and hate and resent and am thrilled by and am good at all in one fell swoop. I have enjoyed building the brand and shaping, refining it and creating new angles and products. It has been a blast. And all in the matter of a few short minutes, it has been undone, but it was coming to this. How could it not? As I mentioned to Jill, I am an artist, not a marketing maven in the way that they would need at this stage for the anticipated growth.

It took a lot of cajones to do this and I sought the reflection of several wise people in my life and God gave me peace about it along with visible representations of His provision. Faith is unseen, but I really like to see the chair that I am about to sit into, the road I am about to walk on.

Even for one like me who has a high need for change, it can be sad and a little scary. I get to now watch someone else take the company to new heights and it's not me. But as I was talking to my Dad, the engineer, tonight, it became clear that he and I share this in common: we both lay a firm foundation upon which other people will design and build. And at this point we watch and advise as needed, but our pens are now off the page. I love that both my bosses are adamant about me staying on, and looking for the right job I could step into. I feel vulnerable right now, which I'm choosing to funnel into my poetry, though my ego was massaged when Jill said the other day, "just think you didn't have any background training in marketing and look what you've accomplished- do you ever pinch yourself?" I am now.

Islands in the stream

2007-01-28T16:40:00.000-08:00

has been in my head for the past few days, probably from taunting my friend Martha about her boyfriend's dad looking like Kenny Rogers. Day one of marathon show ended swimmingly; we gave ourselves a sales goal to hit during this show, so that will add to the fun and challenge of a 9-6 show for four days (read: on your feet standing and talking and smiling).

I was relieved an hour before the end of the show and sauntered from Times Square to Office Depot for supplies to make tomorrow an even more effective sales day. Then, on foot to sniff out a restaurant called "Better Burgers" known for its veggie and soy burgers and "air-baked" french fries. What delighted me about the meal were the designer ketchups: karma ketchup (with cumin and curry) and cajun ketchup with a kick. Yehuda amichai and I had a date tonight where he did all the talking because he knew I was tired and had nothing to say. Walking back to the hotel, snowflakes began to trickle from the sky extending into the smile broadening across my face.
The talk went well and now am dwelling in grey for a period, until things work themselves out. I continue walking in my orange coat thinking about how God might be that "tree over me, an old man asleep on a bench," worth more than sparrows.

wait for it

2007-01-27T19:03:00.000-08:00

the talk is happening. tomorrow. my heart palpitates and rushes with the energy of rapids surfing downstream. yikes and yea all in one beat. what happens next is a mystery and i aim to savor its form, however it looks.

a stroll about town

2007-01-27T17:05:00.000-08:00

ah manhattan, how do i love thee... my plane landed later than expected last night, but the drill never changes, at 2 a.m. i finally called it a night and the tossing and turning ensued. this morning, aside from setting up the booth and getting some work done, my main goal (in the back of my head that is) resides on 5th and e. 82nd. with only two hours to walk the met museum, i knew i must have my wits about me, no dawdling or distractions here.

the egyptian section appeared to have grown: among the sarcophogi, chunks of painted wall reliefs and stone statues, i walked into the dimly lit threshold of a recreation of a tomb for an "administrative helper" to one of the pharoah's and peered at canopic jars. i stood, reading about the last pharoahs and dynasty and was pleased to find the name of a pharoah shikrik (sp?) cited as such and referenced in the bible. i am always glad to find these little references to the reality of things laid out in the grand book.

on to the european paintings, i walked and then found myself waylaid, feet feverishly heading toward the "americans in paris" exhibit. there was a quote on the wall by an american painter commenting that upon leaving the louvre, she had to run home, so many were the ideas in her head to paint. and i understand this completely, the more read of my poetic books- forms and the like, the more ideas i have and forms with which i want to play. john singer sargent's work illuminated from the walls. childe hassam's work (who i'd never heard of before) compelled me. walking the rooms made me want to cozy up to a nice little cafe au lait on a corner, idling the time creatively, actively watching the people go by. so i walked. about 30 or so blocks in the brisk weather, a rosy hue scenting my cheeks. today it felt good to be alive.

day three: mfa

2007-01-05T06:38:00.000-08:00

we are in day three of the mfa program.* upon strolling the campus the first day we happened upon two gravestones at the top of a rambling hill, not something expected in the middle of a college campus. when we drew closer to them, we discovered they were the gravestones of d.l. moody and his wife. in fact, there is a house with a bronzed placard hung on it out in front of the house.

i am enjoying my time here and all the quirky feelings that seem to be vying inside me for top dog positioning. suffice it to say, poets are people with a keen sensitivity to the world around them and it's an interesting dynamic to have a bunch of us together...so off i go to my first workshop, which means we have each read the poems of the others in our group and will be giving constructive criticism so as to make the poems better. but the thing is that sometimes a person can think they're open to criticism, only to find, in the face of it that the intended words to be slashed take on the quality of baby chicks and the poet steps into the role of mama hen. i'm hoping no clucking comes from my mouth in volatile tones... let the slashing begin.

(*all future blogs on my mfa experience will be posted on my wordpress blog, but at the moment am having difficulties accessing it.)

blindfold, please: on contingency plans

2006-12-28T22:54:00.000-08:00

i have been up to my gills at work, planning ahead like a mad woman for the duration of ten days during which i will be at my first winter poetry residency in cold massachusetts. some days my heart and temperament feel as frosty as the air i will soon breathe. and during these moments i am grateful that i am not operating heavy machinery or making large scale decisions that will affect the course of humanity.

i reconnected with the story of abram this morning, now called abraham, at this point, encountering a king called abimelech. he tells abimelech that sarah (his wife) is his sister, but before abimelech comes to "know" her, he is visited in a dream by an angel warning him of the fallacy. when abimelech approached abraham with the mistruth, good ol' abe responds that because she's beautiful he would probably have been killed and so he asked her to do him this favor and say she's his sister. he's smooth in his delivery because this happened already, two chapters ago in egypt. he's thought out all the what if's so intricately that he shows himself to be walking by sight, not faith.

which gets me looking at my life, pointing at all the blaring subtleties and a path that seems so irrational right now- pursuing poetry in the midst of managing a multi-million dollar company's marketing. it feels so larger than life to me that i diminish. my words dot the page like scratches on metal, and i am reminded of what it means to shut my eyes and take the first step (because it's always the hardest), letting the rest of them come as they will and not be so damn clever that i actually believe my contingency plan could be the best choice. blindfold, please.

what happens when the path diverges

2006-12-27T22:48:00.000-08:00

i've been mulling something for about a week. a man named terah gave birth to the father of the nations, abram. before last week i had never really taken much notice of terah, but like a child eager for dessert, let my eyes skip ahead to abram.

of terah, not much is said, and yet in the brief capsule of his life that we do know, there is an interesting fact. God called him to canaan. on the way there, for whatever reason, he ended up rooting down into haran.

in the next chapter, God tells abram to leave his father's household and go to the land He will show him. the next sentence (one of my favorites) begins with a connector word "so he went." and wouldn't you know he was headed for canaan...

what happens when the instruction for the parent goes unfulfilled? does it naturally fall upon the child? my thought is not always and yet what an interesting thread this is in the early histories and movements of the hebraic man.

a big birthday smile

2006-12-11T19:50:00.002-08:00

a big birthday smile
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

aziza chandelier

2006-12-11T19:50:00.001-08:00

aziza chandelier
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

couscous aziza

2006-12-11T19:50:00.000-08:00

couscous aziza
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

yum. can you pass the ras el hanout? :)

pam_az_katy_120806

2006-12-11T19:49:00.001-08:00

pam_az_katy_120806
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

at aziza

tentative blow out

2006-12-11T19:49:00.000-08:00

tentative blow out
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

thirty.

2006-12-08T23:35:00.000-08:00

the road to thirty has been paved over the course of the year, so it's arrival was greeted like a penpal that is finally met for the first time. in india, they perceive thirty to be the age when a child finally becomes an adult. this sentiment has stuck in my head since my last trip there, now five years ago. i hired a lawyer earlier in the year and this seemed to be the first turning point where i had to be sober enough to contend with the judicial system. my body was banged up and bruised internally- i hurt and understood a modicum of the aches that will color moments in the upcoming years. i continue learning to stay put when God dictates it. i see Him all over the place- especially covering over the fears that are hidden within me (so hidden that sometimes i am totally unaware of them until they surface, propelling me into an almost out of body experience to consider them, chew on them, seek out their source to abolish it once and for all). His is a balm that somehow makes everything okay when it doesn't seem like there is anyway it will ever be okay again. thirty will be a year of mirth too (but these other things crept out of me tenaciously, waiting their turn to be spoken).

this is/has been a week of many mini celebrations (i am much more of a one-on-one or small group kind of gal and wanted to do this year's birthday celebration up in small bites, instead of my typical large bite approach).

sunday: imogen heap concert with my friend tyler.
wednesday: carmen (the opera) at sfo and then late night dinner with my game soulmate alan.
thursday: amos lee concert with new friend carrie.
friday (my bday!): dinner at aziza with close friends.
saturday: mexican train dominoes with roommates and gelato bar.
sunday: karaoke with friends.

it should all be great fun. afterall, we're celebrating life, all of ours, not just mine.

i turn 30 in a week

2006-12-01T00:23:00.000-08:00

a new decade of my life will begin. the last decade switch was from being a teenager to a 20something, so this should be interesting and fun. life is never dull...

just plain weird

2006-11-22T23:30:00.000-08:00

i ate chinese food last night at one of those acceptable dives selling good greasy food. i settled in with my book and orange chicken, chopsticks poised perilously over the plate when i noticed a handsome guy walk over to the high top table next to mine. in his arms, he cradled three stuffed animals- a lion, a mouse and a bear. my initial thought was, "how sweet, he's carrying his child's toys." upon scanning the people milling about, no children were in sight. okay. his friend went to the bathroom after setting down the plate of food on the table. during the friend's absence, he sat the stuffed animals on the table, facing the drive-thru window immediately behind him. he folded napkins and placed them on each of the animals' laps. at this point i am suspicious, wondering where's the camera? when the friend returned, mr. handsome crazy headed to the bathroom, giving me a chance to ask the friend/accomplice,

"what's the deal with the animals."

"they're hungry."

as they, the humans began to eat, i attempted to dive back into my book, but on occasion would sneakily peek a look in the direction of high-top numero bizarro. mr. handsome crazy would lift a fork of food and offer it to one of the stuffed animals, holding it in front of its mouth for a few seconds before turning it towards his own open and ready mouth. every bite was offered to another animal. no one could say he's not fair. as i watched this, i stifled a laugh which came out more as a single cough. living here never allows for a dull moment.

a question that could very well stay rhetorical

2006-11-20T21:57:00.000-08:00

does one become intolerant of something due to excess of said thing?

(aka "if i eat/drink soy a bunch, will i become intolerant of it?") this is what i was thinking about on my drive home tonight in the pitch black that is the 101 south in between marin city and the headlands at 6 p.m.

more importantly, if this is true, then is there a better case for all things in moderation?

turning toward the white noise of today

2006-11-18T18:08:00.000-08:00

i filled my day with errands: dropping off laundry, balancing my checkbook, getting my car's brakes checked out, having coffee at a neighborhood haunt. in the midst, of re-organizing my closet, it finally spoke to me loudly, in a way that i couldn't turn my back on it any longer.

a year ago my friend todd died. a year already.

sitting on my dresser is a dvd of his memorial service that his mom let me borrow a few weeks ago when we met at a dinner with friends. over that dinner she and her husband chronicled his slide into a mounting mental illness where in the end he wondered if God loved him. it's so hard for me to wrap my mind around that question- he who wrapped the people he encountered with God's love and grace, left little for himself. she told a story of him calling her out of the blue one day, near the day of his death, asking her if they could sing. she was taken aback, "now?" "now."

and they sung for a while. he would sing along and then stop, listening.

five of us, some of his san francisco friends raised $5,000 for suicide prevention and walked 20 miles in his honor and also out of solidarity for his parents earlier this year. i felt particularly grieved for them, as an only child, knowing their only child is now gone. and today, on this day that is actually the national memorial day for suicide, the day when todd took his own life a year ago, i finally popped in the dvd to watch his memorial service. and i wept for him, i weep for them.

when i awoke this morning, i stepped into the shower and prayed for todd's parents, rex and connie. just now, i prayed for them again, on the phone with another only child friend struggling with some heart problems. i pray for them as i drive in my car tonight and hope when you read this that you too would pray.

while i was out of town

2006-11-17T14:51:00.000-08:00

my roommate lori's friend visited from hawaii. i had told her she could sleep in my room and in the end he did. she has told me before that he has the gift of prophecy, of being able to acutely see what's underneath the surface of things, both past, present and future. every evening he slept in my room he woke up from a night besieged with nightmares. he told my other roommate lisa about this and she asked him if he could pray against whatever was coming upon him while he slept. his response is one i disagree with and a bit chilling: "i can't pray or speak against what has been invited."

new york: a good conversation, a good meal

2006-11-13T18:39:00.000-08:00

after the show today, i met up with a high school friend at django. earlier this year, i discovered this restaurant on accident during one of my long new york jaunts. my friend cheryl and i served on the leadership team of the french club in high school. i try to meet up with she and her boyfriend alberto once every time i am out here. she, like i, enjoy delicious eats. so i looked forward to her dissemination of the restaurant. we both ended up getting the tagine and glasses of chilean red vino.

she will turn 30 eleven days before me and related how she thought she was fine with it until it started galloping toward her at a frenetic pace. we swapped stories about our own personal manias that are accruing as 30 nears. it's funny that in a way they both have to do with children. namely, we both want them, just not yet. she at least is in a relationship that has the longevity of the past three years and legs into the future. i however do not have any candidates on the horizon and do not perceive myself as one of those shotgun family kind of people.

we left the restaurant, headed to grand central station for a scoop of gelato and so i could see her off at the station. i entered a contest at the gelateria of composing a sundae with the prize being a trip to italy. cheryl helped me name it after the hello kitty character we used to use as code when we passed notes in french class...

it's good to have old friends: both in the form of cheryl and in this beloved city.

new york: a proliferation of activity

2006-11-12T21:47:00.000-08:00

first day of the show and our ikea booth was a hit. someone complimented it saying it was inviting and showed off the teas well. lunch was a scoop of gelato from max and mina's- great guys with a yummy product, but alas for my thoughts of going sugar-free for november... everybody behaved and we found a cool cup jacket made out of cork.

at the end of the day, we set out for the hudson hotel to enjoy drinks with one of our distributors in new york, a family of italians. they always show us a great time and i was enthused by their passion and ambition of making a deeper mark in new york with our products. i had a drink called the "urban orchid" with white chocolate godiva, vanilla vodka, pureed raspberries, a dash of chambord and an orchid as a garnish. this hotel is an ian schrager property that's uber-hip. i found out that t.j. was bummed out by seeing yoda with a light saber, thinking yoda should be the pacifist among the characters and that he named his child "leto" after a character in "dune." michael vacationed with his wife in the caribbean on a cruise ship 3 weeks before the same cruise ship almost tipped over. dominic snapped 200 photos at the car show in vegas that he attended 2 weeks ago and is quite the vip. joey, the youngest of the brothers is going to propose to his girlfriend this december in a cool venetian link.

over cocktails, i sat and chatted with our new greek distributor ari. i forget sometimes that there are gentlemen of his age still around. when his girlfriend rose to go to the bathroom, he stood up as well. he enjoyed hearing about my adventures in greece, eyes lighting up in his warm athenian face.

we supped at a great italian restaurant and sat over a second round of espresso, late into the evening talking until my body insisted i take it home.

new york: in the company of friends

2006-11-11T21:12:00.000-08:00

i woke up this morning ready for what the day would bring. i worked on my computer for a few hours and then set out to meet some friends katy and i had made on our cruise to greece this past september. matt and irina live in a beautiful neighborhood close to central park. i arrived early and walked around the park, shooting images of golden leaves, watching children crunching them with their tiny feet, a man walking a purebred french bulldog huffing and puffing along, a son throwing a tennis ball to his mom, then to his dad. i smiled at the communal feeling emanating from this small borough of the city.

i received the grand tour of their house, complete with a backyard, attached to a communal backyard. their son dennis recounted how hung over he was and how that contributed to his growing hunger. we walked, the five of us 10 blocks to a quaint restaurant (see puertadelapanza for my thoughts on it). willy, their middle son rode on the broad, strong shoulders of matt as we walked. it was a perfect fall afternoon. i learned over lunch that in russia, they drink vodka straight and with a meal, never mixed (sober looks underlined this point from around the table). they commented that next time, when i have more time, they will take me to the russian nightclub and it will be quite an experience, which i can only imagine. we hugged and irina asked if i needed them to walk me to columbus, to which matt responded, "no she's fine. she'll get where she needs to go." i think he picked up on my inner new yorker verve while we were meandering the streets of greece.

rewind to this morning's work at the hotel: one of the boxes essential for my booth is missing. i had called the airline company four times already and their non-answer sent me over the edge this time. i called my boss and she got on it, like a hound dog sniffing out the prey. by the time lunch was finished, i had received a call from her with a budget from our travelers insurance and a list of locations to go get replacements for the booth items.

i must have walked 20 miles today (well not really) but i did hustle around the city in my red crocs, zipping from pottery barn to gracious home to the javits to the fabric store to the flower store back to javits and then back to gracious home. the booth will look beautiful and i'm glad that this mishap turned into a blessing so quickly.

i stopped in to bouchon bakery at time warner for a chocolate bouchon- an incredible treat of rich dark chocolate goodness. afterwards, i sailed to the upper east side to meet a colleague for dinner at my favorite veggie restaurant. while i waited for her, dr. andrew weil was exiting the restaurant. we had a creatively energizing discussion and such a yummy meal... can there be better things in life?

new york: in the city of blinding lights

2006-11-10T22:25:00.000-08:00

let's face it. i'm partial. this town has a heartbeat that reverberates throughout the night in the honks of taxis, which i'm finding very hard to summon, as if i have lost the gift. today we set out from staten island where i was staying, close to my colleague charlie, since i couldn't stay with he and his girlfriend jayne last night because of several cats.

we ordered breakfast bagels from a dive deli on the side of the road giving our money to employees whose accents were as thick as turkish coffee. we drove to the javits, which feels like a home away from home, and set up our "ikea booth." the setup went by in a jovial manner between charlie and i, which is always good. the booth looks pretty smashing if i do say so myself. for lunch, we supped on hotdogs and potato knishes, along with all the other union laborers for $3.25. in new york you can't beat a deal like that.

after we finished setting up the booth, i worked for a few hours on the computer. i set out later to see the broadway show "company," written by stephen sondheim- about five urban married couples and a bachelor who's trying to decide if marriage is the ticket for him. trying to get to the barrymore theater was a bit of a challenge. i couldn't flag down a cab, the usual rules did not apply- instead of lights on meaning free cab, it could mean anything. i was now running 15 minutes late to the theater and i was desperate. a guy rolled by on his bicycle rickshaw and he asked if i wanted a lift. we negotiated a price and i got on laughing, recalling the last time i had been in a rickshaw had been in india, now five years ago, with our trusty cyclist raju at the helm.

oscar, the cyclist, meandered into heavy new york traffic with such ease and finesse, though i still prayed we would not get hit. he's in high school and wants to go attend college at flushing so he can get his mechanical engineering degree in aviation. what a sweet kid... who told me i should stick around longer in the city, that i had a confidence about me that worked here. i told him it's because i'm latina, knowing he was from one of the islands himself (dominican republic). he speaks fluent spanish at his house with his parents.

as he sped down e. 49th, i kept giggling out loud, not believing i was in a rickshaw or how beautiful the city looked this evening, in the perfectly temperatured night air. after a slice of ny style pizza with some veggies on the side, i came back to the hotel to put in a few more hours of work, so i might be able to take a bit of time off tomorrow afternoon and catch the "americans in paris" exhibit at the met. museum. my bed awaits.

Las Vegas: family is where you find it

2006-11-07T22:35:00.000-08:00

when i called my mom to inform her of my impending trip to vegas, she excitedly told me that some of my tia's and tio's from mexico would be here the same time as me. tia bertha called yesterday and we secured a dinner for this evening.

what was remarkable about the serendipity of this timing, is that i usually see them once a year at my tia berta's house (mom's sister) but since all my vacation time that i can use has been taken, i swore off going home for the holidays.

and so, i wouldn't get to see them this year, until God brought them to me, and me to them. it was perfect timing all the way around. we had a great dinner, full of laughter (tio jorge does tell a mean joke, though his friend enrique might have upstaged him once or twice). tio eliud recounted to me that he has been taking care of the ranch on saturdays and that their dog "oso" died with just "max" left. tia idalia sat to my left and we all told a few stories and i was asked out of the blue when i'm getting married. it's not just the greek culture people! :)

at the end of a full evening, feeling full of love around the table, tio eliud and tia bertha walked me to the door, seeing me out, sending me with the fullness of their love, as tio jorge and i said our goodbyes and he sauntered off with his friend enrique to the craps table. and the dices roll on.

Las Vegas: sin city, part one

2006-11-06T22:27:00.000-08:00

this is a quickie post since i'm writing against a clock. the past few days have reminded me how surreal las vegas is to me. my dad digs this city, one of my closest friends and ex-roommates is from here and all i can say to that is, "how?" i'm sure it will be a benefit of getting older- mellowing out, but for now i remain sometimes absurdly opinionated.

walking back to my casino, i am accosted by strange men at least once, which as a female traveling alone is very disconcerting. as i weave my way through the throngs of people, i hear the now familiar thwack, coming from silent workers, standing on the curb, passing out photos of nude women. a colleague and i were discussing the proliferation of good chefs setting up shop here and i pose the adage with a new twist, "just because you have money does not mean you have a palate." i can only imagine how the pearls are tossed out and the swine greedily gather because it's the "hip" place to go, not because the rack of lamb is garnished with harissa and a carrot hummus.

the venetian has beautiful areas inside and i am amazed at the ability to copy the known and beloved pieces of architecture from europe. but this leads to my bigger dilemma- with las vegas and a fake champs elysee, no wonder so few americans feel the need to get a passport or travel and see the real thing.

so in closing, my beef with vegas is i want to see the real thing or do i? one random act of kindness in a swarm of greed and gluttony would be nice. i keep thinking i could smile at one of the silent workers, but they don't look back and my smile won't help them pay the bills.

Daddy: The Glamour Shot

2006-11-04T21:28:00.000-08:00

Daddy: The Glamour Shot
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Look at that face- watch out Robert de Niro!

Daddy: The Actor

2006-11-04T21:27:00.000-08:00

Daddy: Playing the Role of Actor in Epic Tragedy
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Beseeching the gods as if stepping out of the pages of Homer's "Odyssey."

Daddy: The Matador

2006-11-04T21:26:00.000-08:00

Daddy: The Matador
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Can you hear it? Way in the distance, Bolero's "Ravel" is scenting the air. Pose Daddy, pose!

tanguera y tanguero

2006-11-04T21:24:00.000-08:00

tanguera y tanguero
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

beatriz and daddy strike a tango pose. i like this one because of all the glee in her face and the incredulity in his.

the pink ladies

2006-11-04T21:23:00.000-08:00

the pink ladies
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

we look like we could be the original pink ladies... last sunday, we drove to the palace of fine arts and took some glamour shots- all impromptu of course. wait until you see the ones of my dad above.

my interaction with kafka

2006-11-01T19:38:00.000-08:00

this evening at the homeless dinner, i met a guy, john. our conversation started abruptly. he loudly spoke across the table, "have you read kafka?" and i replied that i had, pointing him to the interesting tale of a hunger artist. he then proceeded to tell me about slamming his fist down on the counter at the main library today and bellowing, "do you have kafka?" he was very proud of this encounter, thought it to be quite funny.

john, aka guru, passed over his kafka book and had me read "the confidence tricksters" saying it had provided clarity, why hadn't he read it earlier in life? he described it as a "miniphany" a mini epiphany where something that has not been seen before has order and understanding. as he tore the jewels of pomegranate seeds from the pith of the fruit, we discussed the origin of the word "pom" (apple) "granate" (underneath) and how persephone had eaten pomegranates while in hades... not your everyday wednesday night conversation.

i then off the cuff asked his opinion on how to amicably dissolve a friendship which ensued into an interesting conversation. paul wandered over and mentioned "second helping" bible study would be starting in a few minutes. and guru started talking about growing up baptist but then tapping into his father's religious roots of judaica.

we then re-entered the friendship conversation, seguing into a discussion of the sect of judaism he was in. though he seemed quite intuitive and we had enjoyed good banter and conversation for a while, it took a bizarre and unexpected turn when i mentioned several jewish authors i have enjoyed over the years, namely chaim potok and yehuda amichai. a shadow fell over his face as he said, "it seems like you're name dropping instead of wanting to connect."

puzzled, i decided to concede since i didn't know where he was going with this. he rebutted by saying "i'm done." and that was it. his face, his posture had become closed. backing away from the table, i almost knocked right into the white column behind my chair. the experience was jarring. here i had been bringing up points of interest i thought we would share, which he perceived as evasive.

connect, disconnect.

daddy and beatriz at caruso's_102606

2006-10-26T23:42:00.000-07:00

daddy and beatriz at caruso's_102606
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

daddy showing his flare for the dramatic arts. don't be fooled- no one was pinching him under the table!

tante elizabeth and i at caruso's_102606

2006-10-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

tante elizabeth and i at caruso's_102606
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

daddy at ledson

2006-10-26T23:40:00.001-07:00

daddy at ledson
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

beatriz checking out the grapes at ledson

2006-10-26T23:40:00.000-07:00

beatriz checking out the grapes at ledson
Originally uploaded by anzifog.

activity director's log: day one

2006-10-26T23:11:00.000-07:00

"i am calling in on marital debt."
"what do you mean?"
"well, when beatriz married me, i was slender and as i have grown bigger over the years, the debt also has grown..."

my dad, his wife beatriz and my tante elizabeth all flew in last night. we spent their first full day in marin. i have been officially dubbed the activities director, and have set out to highlight the best and off the beaten path excursions.

TODAY'S ITINERARY
10:30 a.m.--- we start with a winding drive through the marin headlands, dipping down the road as if your car may sprout wings and fly into the ocean.

12 p.--- at the farmer's market, today's trophies included perfect brussels sprouts and a beefsteak tomato. we ate a hearty lunch at the farmer's market: daddy- a whiskey fennel sausage sandwich; tante elizabeth- a buckwheat crepe with tomatoes and mushrooms; beatriz- a hodge podge salad with pepitas, black beans, corn, quinoa and much more; me- a maple smoked bacon sausage sandwich with mango cilantro chutney.

1:30p.--- we eventually stumbled upon the rambling grounds of ledson winery, with its gothic castle and row after row of vines, turned bright gold, hung with the heaviness of dark grapes. after tasting a few wines, we agreed that we enjoyed the riesling most and soon set off again.

3:30p.--- a short jaunt to the office to introduce and show them where i spend the bulk of my time. both daddy and beatriz were amazed at how much space we occupied, since the last time they visited the office, it was in sausalito, sans windows, tiny in comparison.

the rest of the day--- a drive through the presidio, a quickie visit to baker beach and then drive by ocean beach. we ate dinner at my favorite thai restaurant, sri thai, where i was excited to introduce my friends p-yi and ah to the family. the picture above shows daddy and beatriz, sitting in caruso's for after-dinner drinks and the other photo is of my tante elizabeth and i. he is of course showing off his dramatic side. end of day one.

the smoking bush

2006-10-24T21:50:00.000-07:00

in india, there is a saying: if a bush is burning then it will disappear quickly. if the bush is smoking, then it will stay warm for a long time.

sunday: yesterday, we sang a song at church with the words, "Here i am Lord, is it i Lord... i will go Lord, if You lead me. i will hold Your people in my heart." during the song, the powerpoint flashes images of people from other countries, illuminated by their flags. i knew what was coming as clearly as a moviegoer knows what will happen in a scary movie when a noise is heard outside and the girl goes by herself to investigate. but there before me quicker than anticipated, waved a flag of orange, green and white panels with a flowering wheel in its middle and i started crying.

tonight: i ate dinner with some acquaintances that i hope will become friends over the long run. we ate food from their indian culture: curried cauliflower and potato, daal, tandoori chicken, papadums and rice, while we discussed our spiritual pilgrimages and discovered a likemindedness of spiritual expression and experience. their lives are in transition as i feel will always mark my life. the husband shared stories of smoking bushes, friends whose spiritual curiosity is piqued and i left with such a sense of elation, encouragement and refreshment as happens rarely from keen conversations of the unseen things. my body smiled in the car on the way home.

i love that God sees us and knows how and when to meet our unspoken needs, the ones we think were such temporary moments that He nor anyone around us might have noticed. this life and the path i'm on is a bowl of ingredients, things like chopped parsnips, beets and cinnamon, brussel sprouts, things that i can't perceive what they will taste like in the end. all combined together, fused into one dish they will be unlike any ever concocted before. and i long for a bite- an exquisite bite where it all comes together. but for now, i acknowledge the smoking of these ingredients, that will in the end give a greater depth of richness and flavor as can only happen when the ingredients are roasted first.

joy please

2006-10-23T19:21:00.000-07:00

after work, i went to the gym and hopped on a stationary bicycle, convincing myself i would enjoy it because of the articles i would get to read, articles that perhaps would not be perused any other way than being stuck on a bike going nowhere.

in an article on joy from may 2006, the alternative medicine magazine reporter discussed the art of savoring. when i think of savoring, i think of that one exquisite bite where all the elements and ingredients fuse into one multi-faceted flavor explosion on my palate, where i find myself unconsciously grunting quietly, evoking my yes vocally. the reporter says that savoring actually prolongs good up emotions caused by thoughts or behaviors.

he listed 10 ways to tap into joy and i thought i would share.
"1. Share your good feelings with others.
2. Take a mental photograph.
3. Congratulate yourself.
4. Sharpen your sensory perceptions.
5. Shout it from the rooftops.
6. Compare the outcome to something worse.
7. Get absorbed in the moment.
8. Count your blessings and give thanks.
9. Remind yourself of how quickly time flies.
10. Avoid killjoy thinking.

try one out tomorrow and let me know if your sense of savoring joy is prolonged. cheers.

jr. high talent show

2006-10-20T23:30:00.000-07:00

bridgemont's talent show was the place to be this friday night.

anything is possible at a talent show: the performers could dazzle themselves unexpectedly with their charisma on stage; they could execute with perfection the routine practiced for so many hours or choke. junior high and high school are hard enough without the latter option sullying their careers of academia. while i find great disdain in sentimentality itself, i sometimes feel consumed by something akin to it, but tend to regard it as great emotion on behalf of others.

like tonight a sixth grader who had only been playing the clarinet for a year went on stage. he began hooting out the tune "jingle bells," but his furtive eyes did not concentrate on the music below, instead scanning the audience, and likewise tripping up his notes along the way if a twitter of conversation or noise was perceived. during a dreadfully long moment, where it seemed as if all may be lost, as if he had thrown in the towel after a wrong direction, an unspoken "that's all folks," i almost started crying. tears sprang into my eyes and my head kept nodding up and down, as if through body language i could convince this kid to keep going, "you're almost at home base." and thankfully he hooted out the end quickly and sailed into the next piece which came off easier than the first.

other notable acts tonight included: a rap on "vegan nutrition," a native american dance, river dance (costume resplendent with a most excellent curly wig that bobbed rhythmically when the young dancer bounced up and down- almost hypnotizing me), a filipino dance with moving bamboo rods tapping the ground and several performances of spoken word poetry. only in san francisco does a talent show engage culture and environmental choices so completely.

(i know if there was a rap done about food in texas it would involve the almighty cow- oh wait, maybe that's india too...)

vancouver: city of mass diversity

2006-10-17T21:26:00.000-07:00

the woman at the booth next to mine is blond with green eyes. nothing special here. and then i learn she grew up in oaxaca, mexico, the roots of which have inspired her latest pursuit: frog friendly coffee. she works directly with the coffee bean growers, who receive $2.00 per pound of coffee and half of her proceeds go back to the indigenous people living off of and working the land. she's not "fair trade certified" and agreed with my bone of contention on the whole issue (administrative costs and middle men). when asked if the coffee's organic, she replies, "it's above organic" and hails back to when hernan cortes sought out chocolate in the region and coffee began growing there. did i mention she has a master's in theology? hmm. we agree on shoes (sensible over fashionably painful), trying to "be in the moment" and prioritizing spirituality over religiousity.

the cabbie who brought me back to the hotel had to be the most smily chinese man i had ever met. he actually made me feel happier and more up at the end of a ten hour day standing, just by smiling. at dinner tonight, in what appeared to be an "american restaurant," the menu not only contained american sounding dishes but also indian and east asian. i feel like i have been fed a morsel of a place i would enjoy exploring more in depth in the future. i also think (and have been thinking) i want to live by myself, which i'm sure will go nowhere at this time.

vancouver- vip style

2006-10-16T21:42:00.000-07:00

my cabbie and i conversed about pakistan and how he missed los angeles, santa barbara precisely, when he moved up here with his four children. we drove through kensington to the downtown, tree leaves ripening in color from fresh spring greens to burnished golds and orange tones. down granville, i noted so many boutiques of interest and a dutch bakery that made me wonder if they had stroopwafels like the kind daddy introduced me to years ago- a vestige of my heritage in the gooey maplesque cookies from youth. we kept driving to the boutique hotel, located in a happening part of town and booked by the ill colleague for whom i had made the trek out to vancouver.

when i stepped into my hotel room i had the distinct sense of being all 29 years old. if i had been 19 say, i would have squealed with delight. this might as well have been the penthouse suite resplendent with a living room attached to the bedroom and separate bathroom and walk-in closet. what? jutting off of the living room area, a small patio with chairs beckoned me to come hither. i might as well have been the newest sensation in hip hop that the big labels wanted to impress. yup. i was impressed all the more once the sun had set and orbs of light tracked up the night sky like cirque du soleil acrobat artists. i drank it in, even as i sipped my pellegrino water and nibbled on artisan belgian chocolate with rice crisps- all compliments of the house, of course.

man, it feels good to be a gangsta...

salt lake city- the layover from hades

2006-10-16T18:28:00.000-07:00

i've been here now for six and a half hours. the carnage involves a finished book, a devoured and unpurchased issue of the trashy magazine "us," lunch, afternoon coffee, partial viewing of the keira knightley version of pride and prejudice (aka "if jane austen took speed before writing") and two phone chats. i woke up at 3:30, was nicely installed in the super shuttle van at 4:10 and stood in a killer long line for international, meeting a nice couple from ohio.

twenty minutes before my layover in salt lake city is set to take off, the monitors switch our gate to another terminal! i'm booking it as nicely as i can without lopping off the head of innocent poorly positioned toddlers and doing my best to not bump grandma as she's walking on the human conveyor belt. almost out of breath and within five minutes shy of feeling uber-late, i arrive to find we have been delayed an hour. another hour. now three more. our proposed plane's landing gear refused to comply with the maintenance men. don't get me wrong, i'm glad to pass up an opportunity like that anyday. so now they announced a new plane coming to fetch us. grouchy and sleepy, rife with self doubt brought on by my gnawing sleepiness, i ended up hanging up on my mom and cutting the convo. short with my friend.

once on the plane, i ended up getting my own row... things were definitely looking up. i began a lively chat with kara, the girl sitting in front of me also with her own row, who looked like a willowy jewish version of me. we would be great friends. if situations were different most likely. we swapped school stories and she girded me with a laundry list of cold weather clothing i need before heading out to new hampshire in january. i fell asleep, listening to sting, lying down with legs crossed indian style.

lit crawl 2006

2006-10-14T22:44:00.000-07:00

tonight my bookhound pal sharona and i set out on our selected version of san francisco lit quake's lit crawl. the choices were endless and set up in phases- three in total. we chose a selection for each phase and then meandered to the next bar and the next reading.i'll share some notable moments below. here are the two things i realized as a writer from attending these readings: if your words on the page are brilliant, but the delivery is one dimensional and monotone, your words are dead, never connecting with the audience; a recent poll discovered that san franciscans spend the most money buying booze and books. this was fairly evident in how packed each of the venues ended up.

phase I (6-7p.): travel writers roam the globe: lonely planet and travelers' tales
bill fink read an excerpt about getting lost in thailand, as he and his buddy avoided the usual tourist haunts instead looking for the "real thailand" in a rented jeep with the word "party" emblazoned on the front and flames flanking the sides. they ended up accidentally driving to laos. his reading elicited laughter from a packed crowd in the casanova lounge. look for the book: "travels to nowhere" for more fun misadventures.

phase II (7:15-8:15p.): rockin' the page: music writers take the mic
at the amnesia bar, richie unterberger stole the show with his viewing of rare footage of the beatles. he first played two songs from their first concert in the united states and then played an unreleased filmed rehearsal of an ed sullivan show performance. we laughed every time they showed ringo, wearing the look of a tortured soul on his face, as his arms crashed down on the drums and george harrison "lurked" right behind paul. they were so green... other notable moments included a revelation about hip hop in the south- the way to release a song and have it become a hit is to play it in the strip clubs. hmm. look for the book: "the unreleased beatles" by r. unterberger.

phase III (8:15-9:15p.): the tasting course: writers on food and wine
at laszlo, we wolfed down a slice of mushroom pizza, bootlegged into this chic bar, as if we had brought in our own libations, masqueraded in a brown paper bag. i commented that it looked like we were part of the act, what with the focus being on food and all. while i give kudos to sara deseran's entertaining vignettes and scott keneally's lack of a palate for wine, the man who stole the show unwittingly was andy raskin. his tales of becoming a pseudo disciple of tetsuo, the chief sushi chef at hamako had us laughing out loud at embarrassing levels. he knew how to deliver his story and engage his listener. i would buy anything he wrote if it all possessed such wit and well thought out candor. look for the book: raskin is currently working on a memoir revolving around japanese food. my guess is it will be worth the wait.

la vie en route

2006-10-13T13:36:00.000-07:00

i returned from baltimore sunday. just as i'm starting to warm up to my desk again at work, it looks like i will be leaving for vancouver monday. i wish there were lockers you could rent in airports- big ones where i could stash all my business outfits that only see the light of day at tradeshows or work-related events. hmm.

i sent in my enrollment form and enrollment deposit wednesday to new england college and am very excited about the prospect of this new venture. i start in january and am trying to piece together the semblance of a map of what the next two years of my life will look like, which is in essence hard. it's hard for me to sit still though i like it and so when my life seems to have order, i begin to fidget. new temporal thoughts, with a merengue-like consistency include today: moving, leaving FBC and joining a small ekklesia and eventually getting a pug (the health-friendly cousin to the french bulldog).

o magazine had a spread on aging recently and i was not surprised to read that stress ages people faster. what it DID say is that the "perceived" level of stress is what ages a person. and so i am endeavoring to laugh much (even if I am perceived as one of those crazy wacky people always laughing at nothing in particular) to stay sane and keep away the grey hairs and hairline wrinkles that could loom in the air as my skin is sucked of all its moisture. such are the ramblings in my head at this moment.

two conversations

2006-10-09T20:25:00.000-07:00

number one
the setting: funky art teahouse frjtz in hayes valley
the person: susan, a woman from a book club i used to attend, who plans extravagant travel and exclusive global events for the ultra luxe clientele

it turns out susan and i share more similiarities than i thought. in book clubs there is only so much a person learns about other attendees. i knew already that she is studying to get her masters in wine, that she has an outrageous and fun sense of style, and that she has a scottish terrier named nick. i learned tonight that we both possess a strong sense of personality and vision. she asked about the mfa and where i am at in the decisionmaking process. she allowed me to vocalize comparisons between the schools i'm considering. and as so often happens with external processors, the threads of truth started unraveling like a spool of yarn.

number two
the setting: the interior of my car
the person: a wise man, also known as daddy

i have to slot in calls to him with deep consideration of his extensive tango classes in the evenings and full days working. on the way home, it was 9:45 his time and the brief window emerged. we talked about mundane things for a bit and then it drifted over to school. he asked good questions- he always does, even when i don't necessarily want them out there floating around. through his questions, i was forced to specify why i am leaning in a certain direction, why i have cut one school from the running. out loud i spoke the words that will seal the next few years of my life, the direction of my writing, the place to which i will be tethered.

i decide wednesday. until then i pray.

tradeshow blues: part two

2006-10-06T21:17:00.000-07:00

i ate dinner at this great afghan restaurant. if i lived here, it could quickly become my favorite food... (look for the restaurant review on puertadelapanza soon.) anyways, after dinner i walked to the hotel where the reggae concert was being held and talked to a friendly, comforting voice on the phone. there's nothing that can downplay the power of the familiar in a place that is anything but.

the weather was crisp with a slight chill. during the walk i met a guy named john who works with a vitamin company, also walking to the hotel. i was supposed to meet one of my colleagues there, but we ended up never connecting. instead, the founder of orange guard engaged me in a fun conversation about the future of organics and the imporance of not using chemicals to kill bugs since his product is natural and "suffocates them."

at the venue, i found a table where chess was being played. i love to play chess. my first teacher, daddy, likes to make really funny expressions when i make a weird or wrong move. it's endearing, even though it lets me know usually that i've screwed up. my second and most recent teacher, johnson, used to be one of my favorite people to talk to about history or philosophy when not playing chess. he now lives in socal. but used to live under the bay bridge. he almost beat steve brandywine once at chess, at the third st. chess corner. he used to get annoyed by me getting distracted while we played. i haven't played in three years at least. and so, i asked the wife of the duo playing if she would like to play me next. i love a challenge and playing chess made this party even better. as she would provide a ruse to tempt me, i would remind myself of my intended end goal and throw her off by doing the opposite of what she was expecting. i have a high tolerance for risk, understanding that you win some games and some you lose. but tonight i won. and it felt great.

i also ended up hooking up with some new friends made at the west coast version of this show, so we sat around chatting, listening to the reggae music and having fun watching the hippies dance. and oh, do they dance!

tradeshow blues

2006-10-06T16:11:00.000-07:00

it is in short an overwhelming experience. even over the course of three days, you are hard pressed to really "see" everything. notables from this show: tempeh in lemon pepper sauce from tofu town, gluten-free brownies from the craving place- rockin!, pacifica candles' new aroma "pumpkin," green label t-shirts and so much more.

there is a funny dynamic to tradeshows where you can feel like all your senses are inundated but then completely alone. one of my colleagues took a really long break this afternoon, which was fine by me, since she had told me who to be on the lookout for and then to call her. we were in a lull and she hadn't really left the booth at all yesterday, so i looked past the indiscretion of time she had been gone. but my other colleague seemed really miffed by it. i asked if he was angry and he sullenly started berating her for being gone. when she showed up he didn't say anything to her, but soon after stalked off, barely letting me know he was leaving for the day. i carried this all inside of me- knowing that they don't like each other and yet that we are on the same team. my homeless friends have taught me over the years the art of letting other people's choices be theirs. it was not my choice for him to get annoyed with her. it was not my choice to stalk out at the end of the day being barely cordial to either of us. and yet there it is all internal within me. also recognizing that i'm eating dinner by myself since he would have been my dining companion since she has plans. and tonight, i don't feel like dining alone.

i read on the bus coming back these words: "Above all keep your love for one another at full strength, since love covers over a multitude of sins." so i am wondering what their loving each other would look like. it's a choice they can make... still. i was thinking today that sometimes anger or grudges consume such tremendous energy to maintain. and sometimes love is looking the other direction and forgiving an indiscretion. sometimes it's calling the angry man and inviting him out for afghan food. regardless, i am called to love these people while it is still called today. that is a choice i can make.

when sleep evades me

2006-10-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

i usually toss around in bed, in denial that i can't fall asleep, that my body refuses to switch time zones. and so here it is almost 1 again and i am awake, plagued by this tangible sense of loss that is almost as dense as a fog of aroma. i unearthed a book tonight named "without," chronicling the love and loss of poet donald hall's cherished wife jane. he is a writer in residence at one of the schools i am contemplating and my colleague charlie mentioned him today as we lay down squares of carpet in our booth. he'd been married, divorced and then found true love late in life, 19 years his junior. only to have her perish at the age when he retired from teaching into his grandfather's house in new hampshire to write. it is a candid look at illness, loss, love, death.

and this morning, through a quick read of emails waiting in line like good children, i recovered one from the mother of a friend, who's becoming a friend herself, talking about what a hard summer it's been, missing her son at unexpected moments. i hurt for her these days when i think of him. i want to tend her heart as she goes through this "messy but necessary" thing that is grief. and in the end, i wrote to her that i wish she could see the many arms enfolding she and her husband through all these unexpected moments. and i think she will. it is my solemn prayer.

in baltimore

2006-10-03T06:56:00.000-07:00

the weather is not quite as described by a nor'easterner friend. instead of brisk wind and chill, i find it to be 75 degrees. good thing i am one who enjoys layering.

we are here for a week to introduce the natural food world to our two newest tea flavors. it should be riproaring fun. and i am culling through mounds of information of writers in residence, teaching faculty and the like as i begin the arduous task of winnowing down my options and making a decision about grad school, in my down time after work. i think i may spend the evening at borders tonight researching their writings...

i was the kid who could not sleep the day before school, who loved the smell of freshly sharpened pencils, the sheaves of clean, unexposed sheets of paper in a notebook and a new box of markers. i was the kid who loved the potential in a random selection of kids in a classroom of making my new best friend or sidekick. so needless to say, i am stoked about re-entering the academic world, mildly intimidated by the work (aka, life will consist of: work, gym, eating, writing and more writing)- but that also sounds like an enticing amount of fun too. perhaps getting turned on to my new favorite poet or author along the way won't hurt either.

and so off i go to build a 10x10 booth with panache and sparkle.

moments before...

2006-09-28T21:10:00.000-07:00

soon i will have some very exciting news. soon.

last sunday main

2006-09-27T21:55:00.000-07:00

before we embarked on our month long sabbatical from the wednesday night dinners with the homeless, joe and i had talked about an idea of mine to start a book club with homeless friends. see, i have this idea that challenging and stimulating the minds of the homeless can be a conduit toward personal growth and making strides to change parts of their life that keep them with wings pinned down.

it amazes me the depth attributed to words. words take on a power and fuel of their own.

joe, jack and i sat together at dinner tonight chewing the fat and catching up on life during the hiatus. as we were talking, joe piped up saying, "oh, i started the book club."

me: "what book club?"
him: "our book club. yeah, and we have four members already."

i was equal parts stunned and excited. and our book club consists of the following: jack, a jack of all trades who's current fascination is with all things bicycle; joe, a reader of political satire; mike, i learned is a reader of all kinds of "good books" and attributed ayn rand's "atlas shrugged" as his all-time favorite read.

after a bout of deliberation, we settled on starting off the book club reading a little play called "no exit" by sartre. i came up with the name "last sunday main" as a reminder of date and location: the last sunday of the month at the main library, time tba. i'll let you know how it goes. in the meantime, if you would like to participate in our book club venture by suggesting book ideas or helping augment cost of used books, i know they would be appreciated.

wailua waterfall

2006-09-26T22:03:00.000-07:00

wailua waterfall
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in kauai. 09/06

red dirt field in kauai

2006-09-26T22:02:00.001-07:00

red dirt field in kauai
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in kauai. 09/06

mountain in fog

2006-09-26T22:02:00.000-07:00

mountain in fog
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in kauai. 09/06

wild rooster

2006-09-26T22:01:00.000-07:00

wild rooster
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in kauai. 09/06

Beach at Polihale

2006-09-26T22:00:00.000-07:00

Beach at Polihale
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in kauai. 09/06

destination: kauai

2006-09-22T08:40:00.000-07:00

i'm back in the airport again. it seems like it was only yesterday that katy and i were eating bagels before exchanging dollars into euros and leaving the country. i walk down the gangway where the mounted photos of fish skeletons like x-rays peer down and am struck by the beauty of their frames, particularly that of the piranha. remaining euros are now exchanged for dollars and in five minutes i will board a plane, headed for hawaii to spend some time with my mom.

the call of the sea beckons... it seems to be a motif in my chosen excursions and i never tire of its tranquility and power. that and a re-discovery of a love for a life lived under the sun, my skin drnking in the bits of vitamin D accessible through 50 SPF.

here's to the lilikoi and the land of volcanos and sand. i hope we get to hike a volcano and will keep you posted upon my return.

back in the land of the fog

2006-09-13T20:26:00.000-07:00

we came back on september 11th from europe. we watched cnn footage of the commemorations occuring live in new york, while we awaited our airplane in the munich airport. i stifled gigantic sized sobs, tears engulfing the globe of my eyes, dripping. the events of 9/11 feel closer than the five years that have passed. in germany, i felt keenly american, grieving the loss of innocence, an onslaught of torrid emotion in such a public place. raw.

but this blog entry is supposed to be about greece and so it will be. i will post a photo of each place visited in the next few days, each considered to be my favorite perspective of that place. (if you long to see more, say 500ish, leave a comment and i will make sure to include you on the virtual cruise i am planning...)

we go back to that munich airport where we board a lufthansa plane intended for the land of fog. a 12 hour journey sobers me to the reality of staying awake and fighting the bodily impulse to sleep by reading the entirety of "the phantom of the opera," playing cards, interacting with my ipod for a time, and forming a hatred that's palpable for a fellow passenger named "metta."

metta was a black cat housed in one of those travel bags, belonging to the woman who sat in front of us. she apparently didn't believe in any form of sedation or tranquilizers and so katy and i ENDURED 12 hours of meowing and caterwauling while flight attendants walked by and smiled approvingly, asking if she needed extra water, and other passengers looking on dotingly. my raw red eyes and consuming hunger to sleep would not be satisfied. she took the cat out of its bag and set it in her lap to console it during various points of the journey. i kept wanting to be that "stupid american" europeans sometimes seem to associate with americans in general. i started drafting a letter in my head to lufthansa on their pet policy guidelines, but i took the path of peace and brooding instead. followed by a cocktail of benadryl.

sunset sailing past corfu

2006-09-12T22:00:00.000-07:00

sunset sailing past corfu
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in greece.

indian family in san marco piazza

2006-09-12T21:59:00.000-07:00

indian family in san marco piazza
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

in venice

windmills in Mykonos

2006-09-12T21:58:00.001-07:00

windmills in Mykonos
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

bench in dubrovnik

2006-09-12T21:58:00.000-07:00

bench in dubrovnik
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

door to dubrovnik

2006-09-12T21:57:00.000-07:00

door to dubrovnik
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

the time draws nigh

2006-09-02T00:04:00.000-07:00

i should be in bed asleep, the whir of my fan lulling me into the state of unconsicousness and surreal dreams, but lo, i am painting my nails and in the throes of some last minute note taking on greece... greece. this is my rite of passage both figuratively and literally. i desired a different signmarker to usher in my 30th birthday and chose exploring one of the most ancient civilizations with my best friend.

i feel as prepared as i can be for this trip, as if upon stepping onto the boat i will be stepping further into my imminently 30-something self. it has begun already in small and big ways and choices over the year, especially in the last few weeks. i am making decisions for my immediately future self that will have long-term impact. "myself" is yearning for more than what the 20s held, though they were excellent years.

katy and i have traveled together before, several times. we know each other's m.o. and i look forward to enjoying all the great anecdotal moments that will come of this trip, akin to the e.r. experience at 3 a.m. because of the cats in our host home in boston, but that's another story for another blog.

and so i sign out, until i return. oupa.

since when did a car become a bullet

2006-09-01T22:53:00.000-07:00

this past week, something absurd and beyond disturbing happened in one of the "safest" neighborhoods in the city (mine).

a man named omeet drove his car into another man walking in the bicycle lane and catapulting his body many yards away into a grassy spot where he died. (he was walking home because he'd just dropped off his car at the auto shop). he was 54.

omeet then decided to drive to san francisco and within 12 minutes hit 14 more victims of varying hue and age. a 70 year old man was walking in the crosswalk with his cane when the honda pilot driven by omeet careened into him. the victim was on his way to church. when omeet saw he had just injured the man, he turned the car around and proceeded to head back that way to hit the victim again. (but thankfully an off-duty nurse saw the vic. and pulled him to safety just in time).

he drove onto the sidewalk in front of the jewish community center and hit two people standing there.

eventually the cops were able to stop him and his one car battalion. it has been said that omeet's face and demeanor appeared calm, as if "he had just eaten a sandwich." he told the cops in the cruiser that he wanted to kill everyone. that he had driven to san francisco to kill a cop and the evil people here.

on the news, brief interviews with his family began to reveal a sensibility of mental illness behind it all. i could see the defense building its case. and yet driving home tonight, it occurred to me that if he is "clinically insane" and all that that entails, and if his goal was to kill as many people as he could, why did he only hit pedestrians and not any cars with drivers in them? to me, this shows logic and rationality being employed beyond a crazed madman. there should be accountability here.

last question: how is a sociopath perceived differently in the court's eyes than someone who pleads insanity? where does mental disease begin and end, and how does one discern when it is truly existent and when it is just a ruse?

your thoughts? check out the newsclips at www.sfgate.com by searching under "omeet"

Best in Show

2006-08-27T16:03:00.000-07:00

Summertime in San Francisco may be the coldest winter Mark Twain has ever experienced, but we San Franciscans eagerly await the summer cinema in the park events. Last night, in dog-friendly Dolores Park, throngs of people watched "Best in Show," a mockumentary on the world of the competitive dog owner. Prior to the movie viewing, we were treated to a "doggie fashion show" with awards handed out to the most lovable pooches. I have posted my favorite costumes below for your consideration and look forward to hearing which mutt you would have voted as "best in show."

pug love

2006-08-27T15:57:00.000-07:00

pug love
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

They should have won for the category "Best San Francisco costume"- love and the City Hall.

Peanut the pooch

2006-08-27T15:55:00.000-07:00

Peanut the pooch copy
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Peanut, the French bulldog should have won "Best San Francisco costume- the Marina" (There is only the question as to whether her pearls are real or not...)

tutu doggie

2006-08-27T15:54:00.000-07:00

tutu doggie
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Should have won in category for "Best San Francisco costume- Haight St. (Janis would have been so proud. Now if only the owner had thought to get John Lennon-esque sunglasses...)

harley dog

2006-08-27T15:52:00.000-07:00

harley dog
Originally uploaded by indieaz.

Should have won in the category "Best San Francisco costume" (especially Folsom St. Festival, but then he would have needed buttless chaps)...

close call

2006-08-22T21:11:00.000-07:00

yesterday there was a shooting at the fort funston dog park. my roomie lori has made this a part of her post-work everyday ritual and yesterday, she and her friend had a hankering for coffee, which prevented them from encountering the man who shot three people and then shot himself to death. at random.

saturday, in my neck of the woods, a woman working the counter of a convenience store was shot and killed. several blocks from our house, there was a sexual assault of a walker. a man physically dragged a woman into golden gate park and had his way with her.

so when i see lebanon's ceasefire unraveling on camera and hear the commentary about how dangerous my little voyage to greece is going to be, i scoff. because in truth, there is no such thing as a safe / good place and a dangerous / bad place. that untruth was revealed after my junior high years. you just have to live in the riskiness inherent in life and be careful, yes, but not paranoid or worse, paralyzed. fear is an awful downer at a party.

and greece here i come. >:)

saying goodbye

2006-08-19T00:31:00.000-07:00

there's something so definite about saying goodbye. professors and certain friends refuse to utter the words, instead proclaiming "see you later." but today was a day for goodbye.

several workers, who we recently found out are in the country illegally, relinquished their positions today, moving forward to who knows what. i took out one of the guys, who bears the nickname "locisimo" to lunch yesterday. we have worked together for four years. i always knew that even if i was having a bad day, he could lift my spirits by his silliness and ability to lend an ear to the concealed conversations in spanish, we would periodically have. he has sacrificed so much for his kids' welfare. he recognizes in them, an intelligent, inquisitive nature and he doesn't want them to "end up like him." i mull this over, munching on chips and salsa, wondering if they will ever know how much he has given up for them, how he has amended his life in favor of theirs. perhaps they will resent him for being an absentee dad, not understanding why they haven't seen him in four years, turning a cold shoulder toward him when at long last he returns. i grieve his departure, but have known its day was coming for a little bit now. today, smiles replace tears and i go give him a bear hug, knowing i will never get to crack jokes in spanish with him anymore. our paths have diverged.

people say goodbye in different ways- mar. made a point to walk up to my desk so i could hug her, telling her she's a good worker- goodbye. mir. left without saying goodbye to anyone. i easily say and easily believe "Dios te cuide" but in the car, when i'm alone, i let the mourning begin anew, fresh and potent, letting the injustice pierce me thoroughly. crying out to God to take care of them, they who have been such diligent workers, now forced to stand on the side of the road, waiting for work to roll by in a shiny cadillac.

before i left, locisimo told me he got a call from a warehouse and has an interview. i see the hand of Dios sheltering my friend, and i smile.

an answer of sorts

2006-08-05T23:38:00.000-07:00

"God called Jesus Christ to what seemed absolute disaster. And Jesus Christ called His disciples to see Him put to death, leading every one of them to the place where their hearts were broken. His life was an absolute failure from every standpoint except God's. But what seemed to be failure from man's standpoint was a triumph from God's standpoint because God's purpose is never the same as man's purpose.

This bewildering call of God comes into our lives as well. The call of God can never be understood absolutely or explained externally; it is a call that can only be perceived and understood internally by our true inner nature. The call of God is like the call of the sea- no one hears it except the person who has the nature of the sea in him. What God calls us to cannot be definitely stated because His call is simply to be His friend to accomplish His own purposes. Our real test is in truly believing that God knows what He desires. The things that happen do not happen by chance- they happen entirely by the decree of God. God is sovereignly working out His own purposes.

If we are in fellowship and oneness with God and recognize that He is taking us into His purposes, then we will no longer strive find out what His purposes are. As we grow in the Christian life, it becomes simpler to us because we are less inclined to say, 'I wonder why God allowed this or that?' And we begin to see that the compelling purpose of God lies behind everything in life, and that God is divinely shaping us into oneness with that purpose. A Christian is someone who trusts in the knowledge and the wisdom of God, not in his own abilities. If we have a purpose of our own, it destroys the simplicity and the calm, relaxed pace which should be the characteristic of the children of God."

-- taken from "My Utmost for His Highest", Oswald Chambers

quiz- personality in 3 questions?

2006-08-05T01:00:00.000-07:00

Your Personality Is

Idealist (NF)

You are a passionate, caring, and unique person.
You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals.

You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily.
Your heart tends to rule you. You can't make decisions without considering feelings.

You seek out other empathetic people to befriend.
Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships.

In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily.

At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career.

With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone.

As far as your looks go, you've likely taken the time to develop your own personal style.

On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours.

The Three Question Personality Test

an ongoing conversation

2006-08-04T20:42:00.000-07:00

tonight i saw a movie about a young girl encountering her first job, trying to make her mark on the world and get her foot into journalism. her boss as we find out is made out to be the devil, but a devil with very human moments. my favorite scene and the one that is most gut-wrenching to me is when they are in a taxi in paris, talking about the cunning of the boss as she depicts deposing her enemy from stealing her job at the magazine. you find out that in her quest to cover her own self, she has backstabbed her "dear friend" instead. and you sorely realize our young heroine, who is trying to make good decisions as she forges her way, has done the same thing... instead of her following on her boss's coattails as they exit the taxi and the boss makes an outlandish comment that "everyone wants to be us," she walks the opposite direction- a veritable two weeks notice reverberating along that parisian street.

i leave the movie mulling over deep truths that exist under the surface, smile on my face, but questions and confusion pulling at my brain's mass. and then i see anne lamott in the lobby... anne lamott whose writings about her stumblings in and around faith have given mine a voice in a new, fresh way. and i contemplate saying something to her which in the end comes out in a garbled bit using words like "stupendous" and "transformed"- sounding hyperbolic, but emanating from the heart.

i wonder often what i am doing. as i approach 30, and look at back at my life, what have i done to make the world a better place? all the platitudes i used to (and still deeply, internally) believe in have become less reality and more concept-oriented. i have been wrestling with God for four years now on the same thing, but the answer never changes. and yet i keep wrestling, in hopes that my non-activity is actually tied to God and not to a pervasive fear that is dictating my steps. right now i am reading two books: "the name of the rose" and "the saint's guide to happiness." in the latter book, i am currently reading about deriving the happiness that comes from suffering and found this passage to be one to chew on for some time:

"Among the saints there are many similar stories that illustrate the capacity of suffering or misfortune to disrupt the force of inertia in our lives, thus releasing energies now available for a new purpose or goal."

i am not seeking out suffering- who does except for sadists and masochists? i want to BE fully in the space where i am, but there's a yearning, a restlessness that pulls and tugs at me. have i always been this unsettled about life? i would hate to think of myself as a cliche (with the whole brink of 30 at hand).

burned into the lens in my head is a snapshot of a younger me, one unlearned to the ways of the world, believing love to be the greatest force alive. i'm standing in a field with banana trees stretching far into the horizon to a range of mountains between which the sun is setting. my hair is disheveled and frizzy. my skin looks dirty and darkened by the sun. one arm is around a small honduran boy in tattered shirt to my left and the other clutches a boy to my right. my eyes glitter and gleam with such a ferocity, like a beacon calling out that this is home, that here there is fulfillment. i am poor but infinitely rich.

and yet this conversation continues... with resolution at such a great distance!

quiz- city

2006-08-03T08:51:00.000-07:00

You Belong in London

A little old fashioned, and a little modern.

A little traditional, and a little bit punk rock.

A unique woman like you needs a city that offers everything.

No wonder you and London will get along so well.

What City Do You Belong In?

literary heroine quiz results

2006-08-02T15:49:00.000-07:00

Which Classic Female Literary Character Are you?

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You're Elizabeth Bennett of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen!
Take this quiz!

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