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la_belle_laideOn Friday, Tricia came to work. She is up from VA for a visit, an early Thanksgiving with her in-laws. The idea was to surprise everyone by showing up in scrubs and staying for lunch, then doing some work. The only people she told were me, Nancy, and one of the reps she used to buy from. Last week, though, the rep totally busted the secret at lunch, so pretty much everyone knew except for Casse. I managed to keep it from her, at least. ^_^ Also, Kim came by for lunch, too. So for a while there, it was the three of us like it always used to be and it was wonderful. Of course there were pictures, but again, I'm not sure how my two friends feel about me posting their pics on my blog. ^_^
When she left, of course it was depressing, and of course we promised to get together again in a few months for a possible road trip. This is the road trip we've been tossing around for years, ever since our first and only road trip to Montauk--all of an hour from my house. Life keeps getting in the way of these things.
Yesterday was Hula but no Kung Fu, and we did Ipo Lei Momi. I'm so pleased that I remember the whole thing without relying on my notes. We're going to perform that one sometime, too.
Afterwards I went shopping for necessities and for new pants, since all my favorite ones are too big for me. I'm partial to low riding cargo pants, which usually works out fine because I shop at Target and all they sell anymore is low riding cargo pants. Yet I didn't find any that inspired me. For years I've had something against jeans, though, because they always felt so restrictive and I never felt like they were soft enough or I could move my legs around enough, but yesterday I decided to try on a pair and see how it went. A few years ago I was irked because my one and only pair of jeans that I loved, size 11s with Bugs Bunny and the other WB characters down the side, were way too tight. Imagine my surprise yesterday when I was trying on jeans and started with 10s, found them way too big. Tried 8s which were also too big. 7s, too big. The only ones that worked out were 6s. So this is me, 5'9" and a shade, down to 135 pounds and a size six, and pretty musclar, at that. I refuse to lose anymore weight, though. I don't want to be a stick figure. That'd be gross.
So I've been pretty happy with my body overall, and yet for the rest of this weekend am thoroughly disgusted with my face and everything about it. I used to at least like my eyes and I used to think I had nice lips, but now all I see is flaws. I used to fantasize I'd have an excuse to get a whole new nose, but now I'm seeing that even if I did, I'd still hate everything else and I'd become one of those people addicted to plastic surgery. I'd redo my teeth, my lips, my eyes and my chin. I'm still kind of partial to my cheekbones, though. I'd keep those. It made me think about continuing a story I "started" over the summer, and "started" is in quotes like that because it's literally two lines long. It was called "Pretend I'm The Night Sky" and it was about a really ugly girl who dreams every night that a really beautiful man falls in love with her, and she keeps trying to tell him the truth: that she looks nothing like what he probably imagines and that's why he's in love with her. Meanwhile he tells her he's probably the only one who sees her exactly for what she is. She'd like to believe him, but even in her sleep she can't accept it. Dream-man in turn starts to think that she thinks that all beautiful people are shallow. There was a plot twist where the dreams ended up being a weird kind of reality and she accidentally kills him by keeping him asleep.
Actually, that's a story I've had going on in my head for quite a few years. It was supposed to be a short horror story. Maybe someday I'll get on that. I've got this character who has wormed his way into the Majat series, his name is Damon Gardens. I might use him for that if I ever do it. If I ever became like Stephen King and wrote tons of stories, I'd link them all up the way he does. Err, I should rather say, if I ever get off my butt and write ANYthing anymore. O_o
Lat night I dreamed about the ocean. Today was foggy and rainy, and I woke up with the surety that I'd be going to the ocean today. I just had to make it happen. Once in a while I'll just get this pulling feeling from behind my ribs and I absolutely have to go to the ocean. Oddly enough, this rarely happens during the summer. So I did some grovery shopping, and then off to the ocean which is just a few miles away. I took a ton of pictures (tried to take a few of myself: big mistake,) because the color of the water matched the color of the sky and blended really softly with the mist. It was all cool colors, blues and violets and purples, and it looked unreal. Then I was going to leave, but the sound of the foghorn called me back towards the Shinnecock inlet and I ended up going to Shinnecock beach with the jetty. There was a lone fisherman out there on the jetty, and he was leaving just as I got onto the rocks. There was a tiny cluster of wilted purple and white flowers bizarrely growing out of a hole in one of the rocks, or maybe someone put them there. Come to think of it, I'll bet someone just put them there. The wind was whipping the water into froth on the huge, slick rocks and I walked all the way out to the end of the jetty, because somehow I wanted to be, well, on the edge of the Earth.
In Keali'i's lecture that he gave on Maui, he got into the meaning of the phrase "kama'aina", and I learned that I've been using it the wrong way for years. It means "child of the land," which I knew, but it doesn't refer to a person who was born at a certain place. He explained, you're kama'aina to a place that you know intimately, whether or not it's the place of your birth. If you know it well enough that you have a favorite tree, or you know the best place to eat, what the sun is going to look like when it sets under certain conditions, you're safe even if you get lost there, then you're kama'aina to that place. More figuratively, it refers to the land that feeds you. (I wonder if it has its root word in 'ai, which means to eat?)
Walking along the jetty, I fully understood that term. I know the rocks, I know how not to slip and fall into the cracks. I can drive to this ocean beach and back without much thought. On my way, I pass the place where my Granddad worked for so many years. I pass the house I used to want to own. I drive down the highway and dread the day they take down the little fishing markets and put up a strip mall. You must try to imagine my surprise when, going home, I actually did get lost, because I missed my turn off Rampasture and ended up in stupid Tiana Circle, WTF? Yet the entire time I knew that I'd zoned out and missed a turn, and would soon be back in Ponquogue (or "PunkRock" as my friends and I used to call it, like "Hey, should we take backroads or should we go over Punk Rock Bridge?" And I always like to go over Punk Rock Bridge.)
Coming home, I looked down the end of my road and saw the trees lining the overgrown, dirt road leading to the swamp all filtered by fog, and I remembered how we used to play down there when we were kids. So I took a quick walk to the end of the road and got some pictures there, too. But before you click, try to picture them, then see if the pictures match up with what you had in your head.
And then I got some Unconditional Chocolate (yeah, that's right! Because I can!) and the movie Thank You For Smoking" which comes highly recommended my friend and fellow movie fan Nancy F. I just took a very long, hot bath in my favorite herbs and oils and I am almost totally chill and mellow. Divine, yes?
When she left, of course it was depressing, and of course we promised to get together again in a few months for a possible road trip. This is the road trip we've been tossing around for years, ever since our first and only road trip to Montauk--all of an hour from my house. Life keeps getting in the way of these things.
Yesterday was Hula but no Kung Fu, and we did Ipo Lei Momi. I'm so pleased that I remember the whole thing without relying on my notes. We're going to perform that one sometime, too.
Afterwards I went shopping for necessities and for new pants, since all my favorite ones are too big for me. I'm partial to low riding cargo pants, which usually works out fine because I shop at Target and all they sell anymore is low riding cargo pants. Yet I didn't find any that inspired me. For years I've had something against jeans, though, because they always felt so restrictive and I never felt like they were soft enough or I could move my legs around enough, but yesterday I decided to try on a pair and see how it went. A few years ago I was irked because my one and only pair of jeans that I loved, size 11s with Bugs Bunny and the other WB characters down the side, were way too tight. Imagine my surprise yesterday when I was trying on jeans and started with 10s, found them way too big. Tried 8s which were also too big. 7s, too big. The only ones that worked out were 6s. So this is me, 5'9" and a shade, down to 135 pounds and a size six, and pretty musclar, at that. I refuse to lose anymore weight, though. I don't want to be a stick figure. That'd be gross.
So I've been pretty happy with my body overall, and yet for the rest of this weekend am thoroughly disgusted with my face and everything about it. I used to at least like my eyes and I used to think I had nice lips, but now all I see is flaws. I used to fantasize I'd have an excuse to get a whole new nose, but now I'm seeing that even if I did, I'd still hate everything else and I'd become one of those people addicted to plastic surgery. I'd redo my teeth, my lips, my eyes and my chin. I'm still kind of partial to my cheekbones, though. I'd keep those. It made me think about continuing a story I "started" over the summer, and "started" is in quotes like that because it's literally two lines long. It was called "Pretend I'm The Night Sky" and it was about a really ugly girl who dreams every night that a really beautiful man falls in love with her, and she keeps trying to tell him the truth: that she looks nothing like what he probably imagines and that's why he's in love with her. Meanwhile he tells her he's probably the only one who sees her exactly for what she is. She'd like to believe him, but even in her sleep she can't accept it. Dream-man in turn starts to think that she thinks that all beautiful people are shallow. There was a plot twist where the dreams ended up being a weird kind of reality and she accidentally kills him by keeping him asleep.
Actually, that's a story I've had going on in my head for quite a few years. It was supposed to be a short horror story. Maybe someday I'll get on that. I've got this character who has wormed his way into the Majat series, his name is Damon Gardens. I might use him for that if I ever do it. If I ever became like Stephen King and wrote tons of stories, I'd link them all up the way he does. Err, I should rather say, if I ever get off my butt and write ANYthing anymore. O_o
Lat night I dreamed about the ocean. Today was foggy and rainy, and I woke up with the surety that I'd be going to the ocean today. I just had to make it happen. Once in a while I'll just get this pulling feeling from behind my ribs and I absolutely have to go to the ocean. Oddly enough, this rarely happens during the summer. So I did some grovery shopping, and then off to the ocean which is just a few miles away. I took a ton of pictures (tried to take a few of myself: big mistake,) because the color of the water matched the color of the sky and blended really softly with the mist. It was all cool colors, blues and violets and purples, and it looked unreal. Then I was going to leave, but the sound of the foghorn called me back towards the Shinnecock inlet and I ended up going to Shinnecock beach with the jetty. There was a lone fisherman out there on the jetty, and he was leaving just as I got onto the rocks. There was a tiny cluster of wilted purple and white flowers bizarrely growing out of a hole in one of the rocks, or maybe someone put them there. Come to think of it, I'll bet someone just put them there. The wind was whipping the water into froth on the huge, slick rocks and I walked all the way out to the end of the jetty, because somehow I wanted to be, well, on the edge of the Earth.
In Keali'i's lecture that he gave on Maui, he got into the meaning of the phrase "kama'aina", and I learned that I've been using it the wrong way for years. It means "child of the land," which I knew, but it doesn't refer to a person who was born at a certain place. He explained, you're kama'aina to a place that you know intimately, whether or not it's the place of your birth. If you know it well enough that you have a favorite tree, or you know the best place to eat, what the sun is going to look like when it sets under certain conditions, you're safe even if you get lost there, then you're kama'aina to that place. More figuratively, it refers to the land that feeds you. (I wonder if it has its root word in 'ai, which means to eat?)
Walking along the jetty, I fully understood that term. I know the rocks, I know how not to slip and fall into the cracks. I can drive to this ocean beach and back without much thought. On my way, I pass the place where my Granddad worked for so many years. I pass the house I used to want to own. I drive down the highway and dread the day they take down the little fishing markets and put up a strip mall. You must try to imagine my surprise when, going home, I actually did get lost, because I missed my turn off Rampasture and ended up in stupid Tiana Circle, WTF? Yet the entire time I knew that I'd zoned out and missed a turn, and would soon be back in Ponquogue (or "PunkRock" as my friends and I used to call it, like "Hey, should we take backroads or should we go over Punk Rock Bridge?" And I always like to go over Punk Rock Bridge.)
Coming home, I looked down the end of my road and saw the trees lining the overgrown, dirt road leading to the swamp all filtered by fog, and I remembered how we used to play down there when we were kids. So I took a quick walk to the end of the road and got some pictures there, too. But before you click, try to picture them, then see if the pictures match up with what you had in your head.
And then I got some Unconditional Chocolate (yeah, that's right! Because I can!) and the movie Thank You For Smoking" which comes highly recommended my friend and fellow movie fan Nancy F. I just took a very long, hot bath in my favorite herbs and oils and I am almost totally chill and mellow. Divine, yes?
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-13 08:52 am (UTC)I get that feeling a lot. You're one of the few people who I think really understand that. I wonder why I'm not a water sign?
Thank You For Smoking was WONDERFUL. Such a nice little gem of a film. I hope you enjoy it!
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Date: 2006-11-13 09:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-11-13 04:11 pm (UTC)