An icon of the 1960’s French New Wave film movement, Anna Karina is my gal of the moment. She’s both adorable and sexy like macarons and cigarettes.
A gorgeous day in the colorful Mission district this morning.
I dropped off the kiddo to school and decided to pick up some bacon donuts from Dynamo for the kids at work. I love bringing in treats. It’s really what I do best.
This donut is damn good. So was the apricot cardamom one. They sound heavy, but were actually really light and moist, kind of like if Krispy Kreme and a delicious moist muffin humped and had a baby.
DIET STARTS TOMORROW.
Right after I have a huge dim sum lunch.
p.s. I’ve gained 5 pounds this week. No shit.
I came so close today to deactivating my Facebook account. Actually, I did deactivate the account, only to log back in 2 minutes later to see if it worked, but re-logging in reactivated it. So I just left it.
It feels weird floating in cyberspace. What I really want and need in my life right now are real, physical friends.
Now that the man left, I feel really alone in this city.
I’ll find my place eventually.
Until then, float I shall.
Twists and turns, candles burned, afternoons with a rock in my tum.
Long story short, he’s moved out, and here I am in this new city, at this new job, in my new white apartment with the bay windows facing the swaying palm trees of Dolores Street.
I’m living alone, with my baby girl of course, but she hardly counts since she’s pocket sized and lives in the same rhythm as I do.
So I feel like this floating object.
I re-decorated a bit. So as to make the walls that enclose me feel as much a part of me as possible. Because what I really need is my home to feel like a constant soft hug, like that of a grandmother with soft cheeks that smell like Dove soap and Downey softener.
I am floating as I wake and shower, I am floating as I walk her to school (which is partly the best part of my day because we talk about things and pass the same tiny little Yorkie who stares at us from his upstairs window), I am floating as I ride my bus and I even float as I read whichever book I am reading (because I am always reading a book, it feels like such a perfect escape).
I am floating and I feel everything and nothing at all once because to tell you the truth, the world keeps on turning no matter what I feel. My cells are multiplying and dying and babies are being born and friends are getting married and you are breathing and living and crying and we’re all just wondering the same, precious thing.
What does it all mean?
I don’t know yet.
But when I find out I will let you know.
Written in pencil, now smudged from a few days’ worth of page flipping and wrist rubbing, “ice cream cake for joe” is still on my to-do list.
Under new vendor request for Danny Tolli
Under speak at Miami
Under call Rob Smiley
…there lies ice cream cake for joe.
ice cream cake for joe.
ice cream cake for joe.
ice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joice cream cake for joe ice cream cake for joe.
If a stranger were to stumble on my notebook, they would see this on my list and wonder what it meant.
What does this person plan on doing with this ice cream cake? And who is Joe?
I don’t know if I ever shall cross off this item from my list. I’ve started to fall in love with the idea of perpetually needing to do something regarding an ice cream cake for someone named Joe.
It’s really just the best thing ever.
ice cream cake for joe.
Words are powerful things, they are.
It’s funny, the things people have said to me in my past. Those things have stuck. And I’m left wondering, years later, if they were true, or if they were lies said in the heat of an argument.
“People give you an inch and you take a mile”, said by an old friend after I asked her to watch Zoe for me while I got my car fixed.
“This is going to come back to you karmically”, said by my ex-boyfriend after I broke up with him. That one felt like a curse.
“Why do you have so many spots on your face?”, said by the 9 year old girl I used to babysit when I was a teenager.
“You don’t know what you want, do you”, said by my dad after I told him I wanted to study art after high school.
A big challenge is sorting out the truths and the lies that we hear from others, and also that we tell ourselves.
I have to remind myself to not always blurt out what I’m feeling. You can’t take it back. Be careful. Your words are tiny little daggers that could stay with someone forever.
Use those daggers for good.
You know Marcel the Shell with Shoes On? Course you do. I’m not even going to link it.
Well, I showed it to Zoe, thinking she’d think it was cute too.
But she didn’t. It like shook her world. In a bad way.
“You know that part where he’s dragging his lint and it gets stuck?”, she asked.
“Yes”, I answered.
“Well, at that part I felt like I was stuck. It changed my whole attitude.”
Now every time I mention Marcel the Shell she shudders.
Life is a little wonky right now. Nothing new, really. Just life stuff. But instead of getting all wordy and cryptic-like, I have (at the prompting of Snackgirl) decided to create a visual journey of the thoughts that keep running through my head.