I quit my job today.

February 7, 2011 at 11:52 pm (what was she thinking) ()

Oh, yes.  I did that thing up there.

I have been at my semi-comfortable yet ill-fitting job for a very long time.  Multiple sleepless nights fraught with Sunday Blues or crippling Next Day Dread had me day-dreaming about this very day quite often – with the ifs and whens and hows filling up a bubble that hovered over my head, bloating it with possibility and consequence until . . .  it eventually popped.  I wiped up the mess and went back to life-as-usual, developing amnesia over the thought-bubble’s existence.  It was too heavy to carry.  And far too murky and littered with obstacles to process.  Every morning I put on one of my many affordable wool or polyester dresses and thick tights, all shades within the color of a bruise (the uniform of the uninspired), and forced myself to go back and earn an honest living and convince myself that my negative attitude was my only problem.  I clipped down the street from the bus stop to my office and saw my troubles reflected in the many furrowed brows bobbing through the Financial District.  Joining them was the price I had to pay for not making the right choices throughout my life.  I was late for work every single day.

Quitting My Job didn’t go the way I thought it would.  It was not dramatic.  My delivery lacked triumphant undertones.  I didn’t scream, “I QUIT” into anyone’s face, list my grievances, or hop onto a file cart and roll out of the place with my middle fingers stretched to the sky, fanning and slicing unfiled papers into surprised faces, shouting, “SEE YA LATER SUCKAAAAAS!” with a maniacal, go-ahead-and-call-security-to-escort-me-out grin.  I didn’t sprout wings or suddenly learn how to take in the appropriate amount of oxygen in one breath.  I didn’t lose any weight in my step.

The whole thing was, um, fine.  Fine like a life with a stable lot, a reliable paycheck, and functional shoes.  Fine like a mediocre salad bar.

Unlike the me in my dreams, after I gave my official notice, I felt nothing but fear that perhaps I have made a fatal mistake and could not turn back.  I was a rubber-band ball of nerves bouncing my way down a one-way tunnel, not completely sure that the way I was going was the right way, certain that I was heading for a collision of immeasurable proportions.  I had clammy palms.  I envisioned my life on the street.  Tap dancing in dirty, bare feet.  Savoring the last tooth dangling from my slick gums.  Relying on old, broken eyeglasses held together by scotch tape.  Using my English major to pen the perfect sign for begging (something honest and witty, not too desperate, but pathetic enough to make them give me some money so I can pay for another night at a residence hotel or for a snack for my loyal, emaciated dog).


I am still a little wired.

So, in a nutshell, instability makes me a little bit crazy.  Stability makes me a little bit crazy.  But I figure getting closer to something I love makes me the good, passionate kind of crazy.  And I am holding on to that thought like a pin, ready to instantly pop any future head-hovering anxiety bubbles.

Wish me luck.



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February 6, 2011 at 6:54 pm (visuals, what was she thinking) ()


I am here (and am probably the only one).  I have been so occupied with living life outside of the internets, that it might seem like I have fully abandoned ye olde ticklefight.  Like a friend or an ex-boyfriend that I’ve moved on from and never looked back.  But here I am.  Sitting down to revisit the past and stick my fingers all up in old business (ew).  The truth is that I need to practice writing again.  Even if I am writing about stupid stuff in an inarticulate way . . . I am at least writing. Here I am!  Can you see me?

After a long, cold “winter” of wearing drab business casual consisting of blacks and blues and grays, pouting my bottom lip, going straight home to watch old movies, spending entire evenings cooking dinner followed by passing out on the couch in the comfort of party pants and my own drool, and feeling disconnected from and misunderstood by so many around me, it is finally sunny and I’m feeling like sitting by the water and breathing in fresh air and rays and optimism.  I’ve been burned, irritated, jaded, inspired, in love, and elated.  All steps have brought me to this point and I’m thrilled.  Nerd.  Fucking.  Alert.

I am encountering more new things than I have fingers to count them on and I am going to try to document inspiration and experiences (even if only for myself).

Let’s just say that I am leaving something, going somewhere, uniting with someone, doing much, and making sweet love to something (okay, a vegan salted caramel donut from the SF ferry building).

So.  Let’s dance.  Recital style.

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September 28, 2010 at 3:44 pm (what was she thinking) ()

I sometimes write “hey ya” as a hello to friends on gchat and although I mean it as a “hey you” type statement, I always sing Outkast’s song Hey Ya! in my head when I type it.  Then I have the song in my head for like an hour. 

That is all.

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March 12, 2010 at 3:29 pm (what was she thinking)

HOLY TICKLE FIGHT NEGLECT!  I feel like every letter I type right now is echoing.

So, here I sit.  Staring at a mostly empty text field on the screen.  Trying to make amends with internet crickets.  Having a written conversation with myself.  In public. 

Having saaaid that (Curb Your Enthusiasm, what?what?), I am slowly but certainly working on something new.  Since it will be less personal and more focused, I will probably drop in here every once in a while, when I am feeling bored or emo or 12 years old.  Which is like all of the time.  Oh, and I will post the Something New once it is presentable.  Almost there, so probably very soon.  Nothing to get too, too excited about.

It is freezing and rainy in San Francisco (again, sigh) and I am on lunch, wondering if I can survive the day by eating only peanut butter and starburst jellybeans, supplemented by the office kitchen tea selection.  I want to go anywhere but out there.

Questions on my mind at this moment:

Do people really want their friends to be happy?

Did the quality of my Scrabble game go down or did the quality of my opponents go up?

Am I an entirely different person than I was a year ago?

Does Yoko Ono ever hook up with dudes?

Am I really eating peanut butter out of the jar right now?

Honestly, I only have answers to about 1.5 of the above questions.  But questions make life more fun, I guess.  Just look at that little (wildly popular) show you might have heard of, LOST.  LOST murders my mind on a weekly basis, but I love it, so there you go.

And while my brain likes to generate new questions constantly, the questions become less and less crippling.  Life seems to be getting nicer.  I smile and laugh a million times a day.  I respect myself and others more than I ever have.   I don’t let anyone bring me down.  My mind feels clear. 

But most importantly, I finally know what I want.

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The Life Cycle of Recreational Drugs

November 25, 2009 at 12:04 pm (visuals, what was she thinking) ()









Mental Retardation.



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Old man. Snoring

November 20, 2009 at 2:59 pm (what was she thinking) (, , , )

It is Friday, I am wearing jeans that are probably from the 1990’s (what year is it anyway?), a ponytail, and glasses and YES, I feel pretty.  It is cloudy and dreary and chilly in the world outside of my window and I’ve spent a good amount of time talking and typing people’s ears off with my current weather report, scientifically based on the flag perched atop the building across from my 20th floor window. 

“Woaaah!  Looks like it is getting wiiild out there, dude.  The flag is choking its pole!”

“Look at that flag go!  Sure looks windy out there.”

I am a genius.  Don’t hate.

So, blah blah blah, work, blah blah, dreaming of being in my doggy’s arms, eating the vegan cupcake waiting for me at home, and watching horrible tv (uhm, James Franco is on General Hospital, WHY AM I HERE) . . . which leads me to what I am perving around on the internet for lately. 

Survey says . . . cozy bamboo items!  I found some of the softest bamboo undiepants at the Green Festival and of course they only had size HUGE for HIPPY (just kidding!  I’m a hippy, we’re all hippies!), so I was unable to purchase them.  Usually, unrequited lust quickly becomes obsession for me. 

Therefore, check out some of this cozy dreamwear (some of etsy’s finest) that I hope will get on my body someday soon.

Fashion + function.  Built-in bib/crumb-catcher meets cozy, pretty top meets incredibly realistic mannequin nipples.

I don’t really wear beanies, but I might start.  New fashion icon:  Johnny Depp.

Leggings are totally pants.  Shutup.

Cute dress with maximum space for food baby expansion.

And, finally, the addition of cute little side bows keeps you from looking like a complete jerkface in these yogini pants.

Now get shopping (for me!).  I will be waiting on my couch, eagerly awaiting your arrival/gifts.

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Well, hello there!

October 9, 2009 at 8:32 am (what was she thinking) ()

Thank you for not giving up on me.  I have been meaning to write, but life keeps getting in the way.  However, I woke up early today (incredible feat) to get some stuff done and here I am – acting in response to a number of threats regarding my writing hiatus.

Sooo . . . to get things rolling again, I will report some good things:

More cool people (and less hurtful people) in my life.

Big October = music, people, books, sunshine, brains, and fun.

Which leads to > more nerdy things to exercise my brain.  God, I needed that.

New record player (fancy turntable!) + new speakers + some thing with knobs + new records (hey joanna newsom EP and bat for lashes!) = a happy, happy girl.

I might get to see my ENTIRE family at once in December (another amazing feat).

Jeannie, the Creature from the Sheets, officially has the cutest dog walker in the whole wide world.

My old friends Honesty and Loyalty are hanging out again.

A new cool GIRL friend (shocking).

New glasses after like 7 years of wearing the same old mf’ing lisa loeb frames.

Big book sale + vegetarian festival + bluegrass + Treasure Island Music Festival next weekend.

My plants are growing at a beastly rate, which means I DO NOT KILL PLANTS (I have always thought I had a murderous thumb).

Half-day today to pick up a car and drive to Nevada City for the weekend (with pup included) to seek out commune property and whatever else we might find there (wood sprites?  good vintage?  veggie food?  warlocks?).

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, things are going quite well and I am officially no longer a Victim of the Storm.

Okay.  I’ve broken the seal.  Expect more.  I need a soy chai to think/write nonsense properly.  Then, it’s on.


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Up Up Up

September 10, 2009 at 12:05 pm (what was she thinking) (, , )

I have spent a lot of my life so far accepting and rationializing mediocrity.  The past year of my life consisted mostly of mourning and acting out against tragedy.  At this moment in my life, I am basking in the benefits of actually seeking out and embracing what I deserve.  It feels nice and oddly takes way less effort than the constant pressure involved with always trying to make things better.

I checked out my old personal website through Michigan State yesterday.  We used those websites to post papers and things for some of my classes, but after I graduated, I used mine as a web design practice site while I taught myself programs.  Some of the site’s incarnations are pretty funny to look at, but what shocked me the most is that my “online journal” entries are not very different from the words I post today.  Except I think I was smarter and had more time on my hands to read and do art.  But not much has changed in my head, apparently.

Exhibit A:

Date: Thursday, June 12, 2003 7:58:05
Topic: obsessions for now
nag champa
nivea lotion
the rapture
big jewelry
nylon magazine
my dog
leaving work on time
a song by neko case
vanilla musk
big salads
leaving the lights off
people watching
mix cds
frilly tops
taking bad photographs
sarcastic writers
looking at old photographs
deconstructed fashion
$8 concerts
there are a million more shallow obsessions to list, but i must go to work.
enjoy the silence.

Exhibit B:

Date: Monday, June 16, 2003 7:47:34
Topic: patience will find you pretty things
while waiting for the bus yesterday, an old, toothless man sat near me and shouted “happy father’s day! happy everybody day! everyday is everybody day!.” then he began to pump his nubby hand into the air and sang that song “joy and pain . . . sunshine and rain.” then, a cop pulled up and arrested him because he received a complaint from trader joe’s and the man wasn’t cooperating. i wonder what he did at trader joe’s. hopefully it was fun . . . maybe he had some sunshine to go with his rain.
i have another obsession to add . . . french films. except for the very violent, head-chopping sort. L’auberge Espagnole (which wasn’t entirely in french) is a fun film, i think. i also rented Frida (not french, of course) . . . the art direction is amazing in that movie. i’m painfully jealous of the people who get to design films like that.
i hibernated all weekend . . . sad it’s over.
work work work work work work work work work work.
monday fun day

Exhibit C:

Date: Sunday, May 4, 2003 1:06:28
Topic: sunday lusty sunday
do you ever wonder what people are like when they are with their closest friends? those lucky enough to have an invitation to such a forum are often somewhat surprised that the person they’ve befriended isn’t quite so innocent after all. innocence is relative, though, right? i am certainly virtuous, by my standards. 😉
everyone has needs (i keep pounding away at that theme, don’t i? . . . ew, terrible pun – so sorry). perhaps the tight-lipped folks just spend more time tactfully slipping their needs under their bed (where their pornography is hidden) to reveal them at a more appropriate time. for some reason, the quiescent people intrigue me. i love how it seems like they are holding on to a secret and they won’t share it with just anyone. maybe i’m fond because they don’t let on that they aren’t listening to a damn word you are saying. i wish i would embrace silence more often.
so what are the chronic-sex-talkers looking for? attention? probably sex. most tenth graders will agree that those who discuss it frequently aren’t engaging in the activity so much. maybe that is why the CSTs demand that the general public view them in a sexual way. and does all of the hyberbolic, forced, sexual imagery indefinitely drop the chronic-sex-talker’s partner onto a lubricated slope that leads to an anti-climactic vat of unfeeling disappointment? hmmm…
my brother thinks that sex is the lowest common denominator . . . i’m not sure i agree – i think it can feel strictly primal, cheap, or awkward, for those that devalue it in such a way and therefore, approach it with a small amount of respect. but some people attach plenty of powerful abstractions to “sexual acts” (for shame! that was so very sex-ed teacher of me). i think connecting sexually can, for the most part, contain a series of profound moments, if one so desires.
maybe it is difficult to listen to someone chatter on about sex on their terms, according to their values (shit, is that what i’m doing ri-ght now?). when you spend most of your life trying to escape sexual attention (although everyone appreciates it, in a way) in hope that others will deal with you on an intellectual level, you tend to distrust those that discuss fornication in excess. alas, in time, you let people see you. and, because you’re bored with trying, it doesn’t matter what kind of attention comes along.
whether someone hides who they are or tries to focus on one aspect of who they are to skew the perception of others, “the others” always tend to finally see through the methods. you can run, but you can’t hide. uhm, and as evidence indicates . . . i’m not skillful at either.
in case this has become too ponder-ific, i would like to add that stephen malkmus is my new make-believe boyfriend. i want to wrap my ballerina tights around his head. hah!
i’ve become quite the chronic-crush-talker . . .

So you see, I had many of the same obsessions, same desires, and the same proclivity toward posting random, rambling thoughts as now.  I am starting to understand why I received the mock election awards of  “least changed” and “most memorable” (among others) in high school.  It didn’t make sense to me at the time. 

I guess I think the biggest difference in me then v. me now is that I am tougher.  Tougher and wiser.  Maybe even more liberal.  And I am proud to say that I am feeling hopeful, excited, grateful, and full of love for the things and people in my life right now.  I don’t care if I am a piece of cheese.  Hopefully I am at least a delicious hunk of triple cream.










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Food Porn Monday

August 24, 2009 at 2:22 pm (what was she thinking) (, , )

There you are, Little Star Pizza.  I’ve been looking for you.  I want to introduce you to my parents.



Dear burrito mojado from Taqueria Cancun

Some people think you are “ugly hot” but, whatevs  – all I can think about is how you are there for me when I need you and you leave me feeling so satisfied. 

With love,




Well, hello, Fat Bottom Bakery!  Very nice to meet you and your vegan pride cupcakes.  We should spend some quality time together.




I need to unbutton my pants now.

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I promise

August 23, 2009 at 5:41 pm (what was she thinking) ()

I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.  I promise to write more.

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