welcome june

breck road lover ~ the libertines

"we walk the streets where she gets her name."

* max turned four this weekend and today we celebrated it at the park. i played in the sand with toys kate brought as part of his gift, and was later gifted myself with flower necklaces and crowns she made that brought back a lovely memory. unfortunately, my pale skin did not take to all that sitting in the sun too well and i am badly burned, and a bit sick feeling from it. but, max had a blast. watching him with multi-colors of frosting on his face, laughing so hard that he nearly fell over, playing with his new trains, and running around with a real sense of glee on his face made me immeasurably happy. my best friend, family and all of our children, so much bliss that brings to me. all in all, it was a beautiful afternoon.

* it is after ten at night and i want a cup of coffee desperately. yeah. sunday night and a desire like that? we all have our self-destructive tendencies, i suppose. tonight i will not partake in it, though, as i have enough struggles lately sleeping at all.

* i hate when i realize that even though i'm almost 40 years old, and have a pretty decent amount of accomplishments i'm proud of, i still end up feeling not good enough so much of the time. i wish i knew a way to believe in myself more, and to hang on to the good things said instead of internalizing so much of the criticisms and negative words. suppose this goes back to something i was musing on a few days ago, at why it is so hard to just be nice, to say kind words, to not cut each other (and ourselves) down so much. is it because we all are walking around this world feeling less than, too? so, we lash out at each other, or at ourselves, just to either feel better, or not so alone in that level of insecurity? i don't know. maybe this comes from spending a significant part of my day with my mother who seems to have mastered the art of criticism, so much so that my brother and i have learned to be self-deprecating and mocking to such a degree we have a hard time speaking aloud genuinely good feelings. or perhaps it is just that i allow myself to take that kind of thing, over and over again. either way, i would honestly rather be nice, and treated that way, too. love how you want to be loved.

* i was listening to one of the alphabet mixes i used to make this morning while cleaning the kitchen. i miss making those, as well as recently missing the music theme posts i used to write. who knows, maybe one of these days they will make a comeback.

* a trip to the temporary library took place yesterday (our main one is being rebuilt). max is starting to take an interest in books, inspired by his starting school, i believe. he is the first child i've ever had who did not embrace reading from the start, so it was especially happy-making for me to see him getting excited about books. he chose three thomas the train books, his current obsession, and even had the children's librarian helping him locate them. reading them with him last night, and learning morea about the thomas plot and back stories, i am realizing that the island of sodor is quite the land of drama. seriously, those trains just look harmless with their google-eyes and smiles, they are really a intricate web of intrigue, rivalry, and struggles. who knew.

* tomorrow is monday, i am so not ready for that reality yet. maybe that is why i want the coffee.

if you knew you could not fail

keep art alive; art by sarah joncas

i have been on a bit of a hiatus this past week due to the holidays, and a much needed vacation. i have also been gearing up for my 2008 plans for this space; setting up themes and schedules, thinking up writing prompts and ideas to help bring out words, compiling music mix playlists, and signing up for activities like blog 365. first days, especially new year’s day, have always been a big deal to me. i am a sucker for the fresh start, the clean slate, the do-over. this year, though, i would like to sort out a way to hold on to, and sustain, the kind of inspiration that first days’ gift to me. thus, the projects and goals that i am putting together for this space are an attempt at that; a way to keep my creativity flowing, my focus on, and some of those often fleeting goals consistently attainable.

a few days ago i was at the archlight with my husband and brother. we were there to see juno, and had arrived earlier than expected. we walked around the gift shop as a wasting time endeavor and ended up at this wall of magnets, where we stood side-by-side, sharing the ones that we each found witty, or outrageous. the wee shop is reminiscent of soap plant and wacko, favorite stores of mine that used to reside on melrose avenue, but have since relocated to the we are now way cooler silverlake. there were stacks of coffee table books, the kind that i covet and wish for in that someday sort of way, novelty items like the wash your sins away soap pack and a looks like expensive crystal but is really plastic vases. i wandered over to a spinning rack of greeting cards, the kind that are shaped in squares with quotes on them, and one in particular caught my eye. the message sprawled across it's paper square front has settled nicely into my psyche, and is asking to be my chosen mantra of 2008:

“what would you do if you knew you could not fail?”

with that in my mind i started to contemplate the coming year. and really, what would this time of year be like without a list of resolutions? (i should probably mention i am quite a sucker for lists, too).

so, in the spirit of ringing in the new, here are my, in no particular order, 2008 resolution round up:

1* write more. write about everything and anything; memories from my past, dreams for my future, anecdotes about my kids, reviews, fiction, and other random things.

2* work on rebuilding our music and film collection that we lost while living in chicago, replacing the old and adding the new.

3* keep to a budget and try to save money (for once) so that we hopefully never find ourselves in a situation where we have to sell off almost all of our belongings.

4* sort out a way to spend more time with my husband. plan things out, put them on the calendar and stick to them, at least once or twice a month. dating your spouse, or significant other, is just as (if not more) important when you have been together for years. it is easy to put this sort of thing in last place, especially if you work as much as i do, and have three children; but, just because it is easy to put off, does not mean it should be lowered in the priority list. a solid and well cared for marriage and/or relationship will spread out to the rest of one’s life, and help keep a good balance going; at least in my opinion.

5* read more, to myself, and to the kids. there are so many books i want to read, and so many i do not even know about that i want to read. i think it is time to dust off the library card, spend some time reading things that are not on a computer screen, and even doing some book trades with friends. as for the kids, they all love books as much as i do, i just need to take more time out to read together.

6* take more pictures. i am a horrible photographer with seriously no talent, at all. i am a small step away from my grandmother’s level of photographic skill who had her trademark thumb-shadow in every shot. they say the more you take the better you get. if that is the case i may want to seriously consider the photo 365 project, as well.

7* reinstate more sunday traditions: potlucks, homemade breakfasts and dinners, and something my grandparents did with me that i have not yet done with my own family: the sunday afternoon mini roadtrip. i love sundays.

8* eat better and treat my body better. the recent health scare that i am in the midst of dealing with is a wake up call, and for that i am thankful for the experience for the gift of perspective. i need to stick to a healthier diet, drink more water, and get outside and move more.

9* try yoga. i know with my level of stress and anxiety just the breathing techniques themselves would help me relax more. i took a class once, years ago, and i remember it was harder than i expected, and that that night i slept deeper than i had, possibly ever.

10* balance. it is one of those things that all the magazines say we should seek more of, that all those self-help gurus spout off about causing me to roll my eyes and break out the my snark and saracasm over. but, the last couple of months have been rough; the last few years, actually. and, i think i can finally recognize the need for some balance in my life. just some little things, really; more visits to the ocean (the ocean, she soothes me), more organization to hopefully make things more manageable, more one on one time with each of my kids, the previously mentioned dates with my husband, and some almost unheard of time for me.

whew!

there are some other random things i’ve thought about, like learning to cook chinese food, searching out any still existing drive-in movie theaters, finally eating at the formosa cafe, and visiting the getty; but, i think ten is enough to try and incorporate into my life. i know the fail rate of resolutions is high, and that setting myself up with too many goals is self-defeating; but i will honestly be happy if i can remember to try to do the things above, at least some of them, some of the time.

what are some of yours?

she sings the songs

keep art alive; art by audrey kawasaki

every memory i have that means anything to me has a cord of connection that trails and circles itself back to music. perhaps it was the fact that my mother spent her adolescence as a penny lane type of girl, trailing around the doors and becoming quite close with jim morrison. there are stories my mother lets slip every now and then that make me realize there is so much more then what i know of her, things i most likely will never know. last august, i listened as she told a friend at the time about how jim told her once that she was "beautiful from the inside, and that no matter what people see that is what they should unravel from her".

i think my father, and my birth, held her back from her dreams. she was learning to play guitar, writing songs in notebooks, she even had an album recorded from her then guitar teacher/lover's band that she sang back-up on - and played the tambourine. she spent nights on sunset boulevard, hanging at the troubadour and this tiny club that used to be in the middle of the street. she was at the riot house enough times to know which rooms were reserved for the bands, and has random items hidden away in the garage that she refuses to explain; a parking meter from venice beach, the top of a city bus from haight ashbury, a hand-scrawled book of poems that she did not write.

something happened to her, though. something that made her drop it all and take courses in being a dental hygenist, marry a boy who was a virgin and knew very little about music, and have me at nineteen. there had to be an event that shook her up enough to change her, because there was nothing in that chosen life that seemed natural to her, or even likable enough to change herself into.

my mother was wild. she lied to my grandmother about everything, even when she was older and lived a life that would have been approved of. somewhere inside she was still the rebellious youth who would hide her beatles albums in her locker, and the far too short mini-skirts in the bushes outside to grab and gather before going to school. i know there was a huge part of her that was disappointed in my lack of rebellion. i was the kid who could be found where she said she was going, who had good grades and never did anything worth hiding. she set no real boundaries, no curfews, gave me this illusion of trust. thing is, the second she ever had reason to doubt me she would take my things and rummage through them; read my notes and journals, empty my backpacks and purses. instead of relief, there was always this look of disdain when she would find nothing of consequence.

strangely, when i was older and chasing around the same streets of hollywood that she once traversed she never seemed to notice any of it. at that time she had slipped back into the life she had long ago left behind. acting as an adolescent, partying and following a different type of rock star around, calling me from places that she did not know or remember to come give her a rescue. those were the days that i was digging my boots deep in rebellion myself, living off cigarettes and speed, and careless encounters with boys. strangely it never felt that far from who i am, even after i gave that lifestyle up to embrace a new one, i did not feel the shift or break from who i was before, then, or after. the girl with too many books who followed the rules was still part of the girl doing lines off the rearview mirror of her car and pulling boys into the stairwells of dark clubs. and, both of those girls are still part of the woman i am today, who plays at the park with her kids and obsessively writes her days on computer screens, and in composition books.

i wonder if my mother felt the same as a mother, as she did when she was the rock star follower who dreamed of making music? did she marry a boy named jim because she could not have the other one? or was it a complete departure from her reckless life that attracted her to the naive boy from texas who would ultimately break her heart? sometimes a whirlwind kind of life can spin you out so much that you lie awake at night feeling the weight of overwhelm, and in those sleepless moments you can feel so much older than the numbers say. that kind of feeling can make a person do all kinds of things, run and jump far from any kind of life that you have known, trying to recreate the who and what you are.

did she regret the decisions she made? that tiny house we lived in around the corner from my grandfather's welding shop, the one with the pink bedrooms and the huge stereo speakers in the living room; did it feel like a new path for her? or was it more of a self-constructed prison? when she came home from another day of cleaning people's mouths out to find her husband in bed with her then best friend did she question the life she gave up for this?

when my mom would spin her many albums on the turntable she would get this look on her face, her eyes half-closed and this crooked lip smile that is completely unique to her would appear; and she would drift into a far gone and away state. i would listen to her sing, and watch as she would dance around the kitchen, or when she would just lie back on the couch and disappear into the music. all those songs become stories to me, i would memorize them and sing them back in my head, or out loud when i was alone. at night when i struggled with sleep they would play back in my head, side a and b of an album of lullabyes. the voices of joni mitchell, lennon and mccartney, seals and croft, and elton john were the pied pipers leading me off into dreamland. they were my father figures and my teachers; the voices paving the way for a life accompanied by a never-ending soundtrack. and, for me, the music has never stopped.

blue jean baby,
l.a. lady,
seamstress for the band
pretty eyed,
pirate smile,
you'll marry a music man

tiny dancer ~ elton john