Posts Tagged ‘Mad Max’

That Cake, Is That New?

May 30, 2015

I love my uncle.

He cracks me up.

“I’ll try it, I guess.”  He tells me he only eats like this when he visits.

I’m not sure about that, but it is cute and amusing and as I sit and hear more stories and have the gift of simple time.


Having meals together.

Watching a show with my grandmother.

Hanging out with the dog, who really does seem to gravitate to my Uncle, with the saddest eyes ever, I don’t know how this dog is only 9lbs.

I don’t feel compelled to give treats to dogs, but this little lady, does nip at my heart.


It’s nice.

Seeing myself reflected back in the bone structure of my grandmothers face, seeing how her legs are my sister’s legs, and let me truthful, blessed to be in this gene pool.

My vanity assuaged by the astounding health, vitality, and youthful looks of my grandmother.

She’s 87.

She lives on her own, does her own shopping, drives, cooks, in fact I was told to not touch the dishes, although I had already and not to help out in the kitchen.


I seem to understand where I get that from.


Also hearing stories about my father and his brothers and sister and where they travelled and what they did, where they lived, how my dad spent time in Paris when they lived in a village in France, or hearing about my uncle riding his bicycle down the highway, at the age of 8, in Japan to go play with a friend.

Sometimes I think that children in these modern times are a bit sheltered and over cared for, a touch over scheduled, a tad over supervised, and I wonder what they might be missing, what adventures they may have.


That’s not my concern, now is it?

Children grow up and people change and history happens and stories get passed down, pressed between the leaves of a book on Maui and when the sun is shifting through the sky, the palm trees crash against the blue skies over the hills, I was able to just sit and close my eyes.

Lifting my face up.


Just a simple prayer of thanks.

Just to be here.

Nothing needs to happen.

No depths of feeling must be plunged.

I don’t have to have an “aha moment.”

I just get to have these small pearls of time, moments with my family.

Teasing my uncle.

Then being totally gullible and falling for one of his stories without realizing I am being told a tall tale.

Even at the age of 42 I still am gullible.

I’m ok with that too, I’m allowed to be anything.

Today there was eating and a drive and hanging out with my second cousin and my uncle and going to see Mad Max–totally so Burning Man–I almost shouted out loud during one scene.

“I have those goggles!”

I restrained myself.

I did not holler out, but I did appreciate it to myself.

I never saw the Mad Max movies when they were originally released and it was fun to be a part of the culture.

I reflected that there are some experiences that I did not have when I was a kid, when I was growing up there was a lack of resources, I believe that may be the best way I can put it.

We were shit show poor.

School supplies were a fantasy of longing, always having the cheapest notebooks, crayons, pencils, pens (no wonder I am so particular about the notebooks I write in and the pens I use, it’s an entirely sensual experience for me when I write), clothes?


I started working in the corn fields detassling for Kaltenberg Seed Farms when I was twelve.

Bussing tables at the age of 13.

I stayed with both jobs until I was sixteen?

I got fired from the detailing job, which was really odd, when I look back, for using profanity, but what it really happened?

I was a crew leader by the time I was 14, which meant I made a modicum of more money, and I led the kids through the fields (in Wisconsin you can do farm labor at the age of 12 and because it is often considered “family work” they could legally pay the kids working less than minimum wage), I think I was making $3.25 an hour, much more than the $2.75 I had started out making.



I was let go because I explained to a couple of kids what a gay person was.

Someone said a crappy sexist stupid, rural Wisconsin joke and when two of the kids didn’t get the punchline (to a joke I did not tell, fyi) I told them what a gay man was.

The parents called and complained and I got let go.

Such is life.

I worked more at the truck stop where I was busing tables.

I bought my own clothes.

Then I got onto swim team and things changed and I became a lifeguard and an unexpected shift in my life happened.

Not much, but just enough to alter my life seismically.

But there were things that were missed.

Television, we didn’t always have one, or it was a small 13″ black and white, once I think in my junior or senior year, my mom got a rent to own color tv.

That lasted two weeks, maybe three, but she couldn’t keep up payments.

We did not often go to movies.

When I did it was a huge deal.

I remember with great clarity the movies that I did get to see at the theater: Star Wars (lying on the floor of the car with a blanket over myself and my sister, my aunt Dolores and my dad in the front, my mom hiding in the trunk of the car) at the drive in.

Karate Kid–drive in.

Dirty Dancing–my favorite aunt Marybeth took me to that, “don’t tell your mother I am taking you to this!”

The Killing Fields, with my mom.

At way too young an age.

To give my mom some credit I don’t think she knew how violent it would be, but come on, it was the Killing Fields, not exactly a kid movie.

I saw some movies at friends houses-The Breakfast Club, Top Gun, The Little Mermaid–mostly at swim team sleep overs.

I marvel.

I really do.

How fortunate I am to be in this place, sitting on this comfy couch, with my grandmother and my uncle, the dog, the television, a show, a song, a small quiet moment.

From here to there.

From there to here.

And so many places yet to go.

It’s Time To Check In!

May 28, 2015

The e-mail cheerily declared when I opened it this afternoon at work while on my lunch break.


Wait, a minute.

I’m not ready.

But I am.

I am ready.

I am ready to see my family and declare myself a part of.

It is scary, what are they going to think of my hot pink hair and glitter?

And it is exhilarating.

Maybe I will get a straight answer as to how my last name is with an “s” rather than a “z.”

I know the story of it, but I realized, my parents are unreliable narrators.

So too, am I.

I was reflecting on what I write here and what I say, and don’t say, and how this is my voice, but it is also a “voice” I am actually, if you can believe it, quite shy and retiring.

“I knew it was you as soon as I saw you and you hid in your hair, just like I do when I am nervous,” said my cousin, oldest daughter of my favorite uncle when I first met her.

I met her about eleven and a half, perhaps 12 years ago.

I have met a couple of my cousins on my father’s side, and I know my favorite Uncle, who was ridiculous and cute on the phone with me earlier today when I called to check in regarding my flight itinerary.

“You know what we’re doing Friday morning?” He asked me.

“Ah, nope,” I smiled, but I could hear adventure in his voice.

“We’re going to watch that movie, you know the one,” my uncle said with no question in his voice what he was talking about at all.

Mad Max.

“We’re going to see Mad Max!” I almost jumped up and down like a little kid, “yay!  I haven’t seen it yet.”

“It’s totally Burning Man from what I hear,” I said.

“Completely!” My uncle agreed, “I was going to go to that theater that all the Gate and Perimeter people rented in Oakland to see the movie, but well, it was in Oakland.”

My uncle goes to Burning Man.

And right there.

I assuage my feelings.

My little girl, I’m not enough feelings.

My uncle will be there and we will talk about Burning Man and I am ok and this is family.

And we will know how to handle situations that used to baffle us.

I realized, I will know how to handle myself when I show up.

It’s not that I am some sort of heathen, I have manners, I know how to be a good guest, and I am really interested in finding out more about my family history.

I want to know all about Hawaii and my ancestry there, which I know little to nothing about.

Odd fragments that my mom told me, a memory of a book of poems and essays that my father once sent me that had a picture of the first truck on the islands, supposedly my great, great, grandfather’s vehicle?

I don’t know.

But I want to know.

I am also grateful that I am getting to go but not make a big fuss over it.

I am not trying to pack being a tourist into it.

Oh, there’s some touristy things happening, my cousin is going to take me to the Balboa Park area and we’re going to go wander around the museums.

I am just a whore for museums.

Art really.

And museum gift shops.

I told the boys today that I would miss them, and I will, despite today being a trying day with them, I swear someone slipped them sugar when I wasn’t looking.

They were off the wall with energy.

I also told them I would send them a postcard.

And I will.

I will also send myself a postcard, a small, happy reminder that usually ends up getting back to me a week or so after I have returned from a trip.

I have postcards from Paris, London, San Francisco, Venice Beach, Rome, New York, Black Rock City, Anchorage, and they are scattered all over my fridge along with magnets from the various museums I have visited while in the city.

It’s a really sweet way to remind myself of the journey.

“Are you all packed?” My ride to the airport tomorrow checked in with me as we were walking up the hill toward the Sunset Youth Services this evening.

“Close,” I said, stretching the truth mightily.


I pack fast and I am getting up at my regular time tomorrow morning so that I can write and get right with God before going on my little sojourn.

I’m gone for three and a half days, I won’t need much.

I pulled my suitcase out of the closet before I left and threw some laundry in the wash so that I will have all the clothing options I want.

I marveled, I still am, actually.

At the size of my roll on suitcase.

It is the same one I took with me to Paris and lived out of for six months.

Six months.

Out of that one small bag.

And what I could fit in my messenger bag.

I am not going to bring that however, just my purse and my laptop and a notebook.

And sandals.

Fingers crossed the weather will be sunnier than it’s been here.

I was looking at my phone’s weather app earlier and wondered what in the world the forecast icon was, it looked like rain, but it was not rain.

It was an icon for fog.

I realized as I was rolling home though the Pan Handle, the forecast was for fog.

I was drenched when I got home.

It might as well have been rain.

And the forecast is looking like that for the next few days.

It’s not super warm in San Diego, but it sure looks sunnier and I will happily take low 70s versus mid to high 50s for temperatures.

I may even pack a pair of sandals.

I’ll be ready.

The dryer is almost done.

The blog is almost writ.

The feelings are still there, a pinch of anxiety, a bit of excited nervousness.

And a lot of joy.

I get to go do this.

I get to amend my ways and show up and be the grand-daughter my grandmother deserves to have in her life.

I get to be a grand-daughter, a niece, a cousin, a part of.

I get to go be with family.

I’m pretty sure they will accept me.

Pink hair and all.

Heading Into The Weekend

May 22, 2015

Wondering what I am going to do.

I have three days.

I don’t have a lot of plans.

There are times when not having a lot of plans can make me crazy, or better, I make myself crazy with the thinking and the trying to figure it out.

I live in San Francisco.

There is always something to do.

Saturday, I am happy to report, I will finally be having dinner at Cajun Pacific.

A small restaurant in my neighborhood, literally, around the corner a block away, UGH.


They’re closed for a private party on Saturday.

Damn it man.

I was thrilled when my friend suggested it, they are only open Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, very small, limited menu, always changing.

I have walked past it a number of times and drooled over the menu.

As I would not be able to partake of a number of the dishes there, but you know, I would enjoy smelling it.


Oh well.

I guess my Saturday won’t be including Cajun food.

I will probably still play catch up with my friend, it just won’t be over a bowl of gumbo.

“I’ve been reading your blogs,” the text read, “you sound lonely.”



It’s not so bad at the moment.

Most of the lonely sneaks in when I am under the weather and my defenses are down.

The cold that I have had for the last two weeks seems to be waning and I am glad for it.

I don’t have plans, but I will do something fun for myself.

Probably go to Free Gold Watch and play some pinball, maybe wander around the Haight a little, perhaps go catch a movie, I’m down for Mad Max, although, it feels like it would just be a preview of Burning Man, but that’s just me.

I have my usual commitments to do and folks to see, but yeah, I do have a bit of down time and since Monday is a holiday I can act like Sunday is not the early to bed day for me it typically is.  Monday mornings are my earliest start of the week and I am up by 6:30 a.m on Mondays.  Which means in bed by 10:30 p.m. on Sundays and then usually my brain is too busy chatting at me to actually fall asleep until midnight (like this past Sunday, that was obnoxious) and I drag a bit at the beginning of the week.


I am wiling to suspend the belief that I won’t have a thing to do and will mope around and be lonely.


I really do feel better.

I’ll go to the salon and get my mani/pedi/wax game on.

That’s always a treat.


In fact, maybe I should do a session at Kabuki or get a massage.

I can’t remember the last time I went to Kabuki, it’s been over a year and a half.

I wouldn’t mind going out to the Banya either, but Kabuki makes better sense for me travel wise, the whole not having a scooter thing, which I thought would be more on my mind than it has been.

I have forgotten it almost completely.

It was just last Friday that I signed over the paperwork to have it recycled and my brain has not had any discomfort around it.

None at all.

So nice.

Not to be obsessed with it.

In fact, I’m not particularly obsessed with anything at the moment.

I don’t have anything that is bugging me or nagging at me.

I just feel like I’m swimming a long.

There’s plenty happening over the next few months, only three months before I start graduate school!

And the not having a lot to do on a three-day weekend is absolutely ok with me.

First, it makes room for me to relax and second, it makes room for surprise and spontaneity.

I’m going to practice saying yes to things this weekend.

I’m going to not plan anything and see what happens.

I bet I can say yes to a lot of things that haven’t even occurred to me to do and I will have a terrific weekend.

No worrying allowed.

Which is a good rule of thumb for me anyway.

“Thank you, we received your addendum to the Diversity Leadership Scholarship, we will be in touch with you in the next two weeks,” sincerely….

Whatever happens, it will be alright.

I felt completely free of anxiety.

I haven’t been brought this far a long to be dropped now.  I am going to graduate school and the money will be there, whether via scholarships or grants or financial aid student loans, however, whenever, I know it will show up.

I have utter faith in it.

I have felt led and ushered along this path and once I surrendered to going to graduate school and pursuing something completely different from what I thought I should do, the path was revealed.

I can have that same faith in the rest of my life.

The relationships with friends, family, with my future partner, with employers with whomever, will happen exactly as they are supposed to be.

I don’t have to look for something or someone to fill the hole of extra time.

It will fill itself without my worry.

There is nothing to miss out.

I don’t have to have FOMO (fear of missing out) in my own life.

I do plenty.

Instead of trepidation I choose excitement and eagerness to greet whatever comes down this weekend, what ever comes to me in this life.

A large raven circled over my head as I rode my bicycle down John F. Kennedy Drive in Golden Gate Park, the gloaming of the clouds, the twilight fast approaching, I saw its heavy wings flap over me and circle.

I was reminded of my friend who passed and thought.

What would he do?

And I knew that in my being alive, present, here, doing this thing, that I will get to continue having experiences.

There is no running out of them.

That’s just not what I foresee for my life.

Even if I can’t see where it is going.

I know that it is happening.

And that is exciting.

Anticipating a bright forecast for the weekend.

No matter what the emotional weather bears.

This experiential creature will be living.

As fully as I can.

Saying yes to everything.

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