To Mexico!

A conversation that happened in my life:

 

“What do you want to do tonight?”

“I dunno.”

“I’m bored.”

“Wanna go somewhere?”

“Sure. Where?”

“How about Mexico?”

“Yes.”

“What are we going to do there?”

“….Get tacos?”

“Excellent.”

 

…so we did. And they were delicious.

Ineffective Insults

My Punk Mentor came over tonight, and then we found out about an art gallery opening/event/thing.

I happen to be wearing some truly magnificent blue lipstick this evening, which I had to refresh before heading out to any type of soirée, naturally.

I told Punk Mentor I had to touch up my make-up, and Punk Mentor responded “Whatever, Ziggy Stardust.”

To which I replied something along the lines of “FUCK YEEEEEEEEEESSSS!!!!!!!!! ZIGGY STARDUST IS LIKE. MY MOST FAVOURITE BOWIE EVER!!!!!”

And I proceeded to flail about appropriately.

 

He just gave me the headshake and left for the car

Life Goals

I live in a strange town with really unique demographics, – which, is honestly really pretty fine for me, because I’m a weird kid and so oddities have a tendency to suit me fairly well.

I live in a Snowbird town, so most of the people who live here, are here for maybe about six months of the year, and most of them are solidly over the age of 60.

This is awesome for me, because it means that I’m meeting all of these incredible people who keep reminding me that like. – Everyone who ever says to a university student “These are the best years of your life” – like. They’re wrong.

About a million years ago, I wrote to my Wondertwin that I finally thought I understood what that meant. “These are the best years of your life” and she wrote back to me that no. It only stops being the best times of your life when you let it.

–  Now, to be sure, there are extenuating circumstances. This past year for me has…absolutely, most indefinitely not been the best times of my life. At all, by any definition. It sucked for many reasons, most stemming from troubles coping with brain chemistry.

And that happens. And that’s fine.

Because life isn’t always going to be wonderful. Sometimes it’s going to royally suck.

Even if you’re doing everything in your power to make your life better, sometimes it’s still going to suck.

The thing is…

I guess it’s really about hope?

One of my best friends in this town, she’s seventy-four, and last week, we made a plan to go to the cinema and sneak into a film. Because she hadn’t done it for decades, and I’ve never done it in my life.

I think on some level…that’s it, really. It’s just a constant process, reminding myself that I don’t need to be defined by nebulous limits somehow put in place by ****society at large*** or whatever.

I think… maybe it’s to do with the idea that…whoever you are, as a person, you can continue to be, no matter how old you are.

It’s not that desires and abilities don’t change – they do, and they *should*, but perhaps it’s just… living with people who embody the fact that you don’t ever have to outgrow anything.

It’s good to have that in my life. I deeply appreciate it.

What I’ve Been Up To

I’ve been doing a not-so-consistent job of keeping up with my blog lately, but that’s because I’ve been spending most of my free time playing music with Punk Mentor!

This is us, covering Woodie Guthrie’s ‘Ain’t Got No Home Anymore’ featuring him knowing what’s going on, and me pretending I know the lyrics. 😉

Grand Canyon

On a road-trip with Wondertwin, summer of 2010 (I’m pretty sure. Could totally be wrong about that one though. 😛 )

 

On a New Year adventure with Punk Mentor, January 1st, 2017.

20170101_124949

 

I feel like I could say some deep philosophical bullshit about like. I don’t know. ‘Sometimes, in order to see new things, a person must retrace their steps.’

But like. Whatever. Fuck that.

It’s the same thing. Being somewhere I want to be with people that I enjoy.

If the first day of a new year is supposed to set the tone for anything… I feel like this is pretty much the best direction I could ever ask for.

Courage and Spontenaity

Today I was kidnapped by Punk Mentor and his cousin. We went to the Grand Canyon for New Years.

Because we fucking wanted to.

I have spent a great deal of time and energy on training myself to just fucking go when I want to.

I don’t need to have a ****reason****

– or more… it’s just that wanting to … that *is* a reason. That’s *enough* of a reason.

 

I remember when I was… probably around the age of 12? and I had this sort of… call-and-response thing with one of my best friends.

I would ask her “Why?”

and she would say “Because we want to!”

and I would say “Why?”

and she would say “Because we can!”

 

I have a friend – in my head, her name is Nike, the Greek goddess of Victory. I think maybe I was 20? and she was my FUCKING DO IT  friend. She had an amazing answering machine message. It was Isaiah Mustafa – the Old Spice Guy – and he said something like “The Intelligent slash gorgeous slash sophisticated lady you have called cannot answer the phone at the moment as she is currently on the moon surviving on the air in her lungs given to her in a passionate kiss!”

I remember driving all the way out to the coast to finish a certification that I was taking, and I parked my car, and I was just… so afraid. And was just…frozen, in my seat. It was this thing that I knew I had to do, and I didn’t know if I had the courage to do it.

I knew I could always call her, and she wouldn’t even ask questions. I could just say “I need to do this thing…”

and she would say “FUCK YEAH. GO DO THE THING.”

I didn’t even have to actually reach her. I just had to make the call, and hear this fantastically . ridiculous voice mail message, and I would remember… that I had people. That there were people out there who would stand by me and tell me to JUST FUCKING DO THE THING, because they knew that I could.

(I called her. Reached her voice message. Listened to the whole thing, then got out of my car and knocked on the fucking door and got my goddamned certification.)

 

Nike still does this for me. My Wondertwin does. My Driftpartner, and especially my friend Tawanda. More people than I can honestly name. The people who remind me to fucking take what I want, because no one else is going to fucking do it for me.

There’s something different about it though, when you live a million miles away.

Because phone calls work, but they can’t knock on your door and say “Hey. Do you want to drive to Oklahoma with me next week?”

Punk Mentor – he moves around even more than I do, (which, to be fair, has been much easier lately, now that I’m reasonably settled in one place for a bit), and I think that transience is part of it. We’re not going to be in the same place together for long. We’re not going to be making plans for hanging out in the summer. It’s entirely possible that one or both of us won’t be living here anymore.

It makes things more immediate. It’s impossible to put something off until next week if the people involved won’t *be there*.

So instead we do it now.

We say “I want to go here.”

and then “I’m not doing anything on Thursday?”

…and then we go.

Bournemouth

Some day, I’m going to have my shit figured out enough to actually have a *working phone* when I fucking *land* in a country and I have half-baked fucking plans for someone to pick me up.

 

That didn’t happen this time around.

 

What did happen was getting picked up by my beautiful fucking Writing Buddy.

She and her husband got up at fucking *four in the morning* to drive to London to come get me.

 

They even got a loaf of tiger bread for me to eat in the car.

 

I’ve been trying to get back for five fucking years.

 

People talk about those moments when reality doesn’t quite feel like something that’s actually happening. (Or maybe they don’t. I don’t probably have any idea what people actually talk about.)

 

I’d been up for what felt like four days straight, and it seemed like the first time in a month that what I was doing wasn’t carving the rest of my life in stone.

It wasn’t decision, it wasn’t huge things, it wasn’t hoping I was doing the right thing.

It was my Writing Buddy pointing out landmarks she’d used in her work, and getting a little bit lost on the way out of London.

I got to her house, and she’d fucking bought me a mug with the union flag on it, because neither she nor her husband drink tea, but she’s listened to me be a tea snob for long enough that she decided I needed my own fucking mug.

 

 

Cared For

I talk about this a lot, I think, but I’m rather of the opinion it’s a good thing.

 

I have the most amazing friends.

 

I have friends who will pick up the phone if I call them at one in the morning, and I’m freaking out and I’ve forgotten about time zones.

I have friends who write me letters, friends who send me music, friends who write me essays on the meaning behind the lighting of a music video.

 

I have friends who are so beautiful, and they are so fundamental to my life.

They’re there when I need them, and every time I get to interact with them, I’m reminded how incredible they all are; how inspiring and incredible these people are, and how much they improve my life.

 

And sometimes, when things get a bit rough, I end up with a package in the mail; a box that’s been filled with a new multi-tool and letter.

 

My friends are amazing people, and I am so cared for.

 

Even if we’re thousands of miles apart. My friends can still help me up when I’m stumbling.

Rick & Morty

I recently got to go hang out with my Motorcycle Buddy. (The same one who helped me with the horrifyingly bad idea that was adopting a broken television to take apart.)

We got together (which meant that I got thoroughly defeated by the San Antonio Public Transit system and somehow managed to spend over three hours traveling about six fucking miles.

Dear San Antonio. Your public Transport system is *terrible*.)

When I finally got there, though, I was introduced to the world of Rick & Morty.

 

This show.

 

This show.

 

…Maybe there was a  while when I wasn’t paying attention to cartoons, or I was just watching the wrong ones. (Or maybe when they were on I wasn’t in a place to understand all of the levels that were being poked at.)

I feel like there are a great many cartoons happening right now that are… really deep.

Some of them have deep, fundamental levels of metaphor.

Some of them have throw-away comments that casually toss out the kind of ideas that philosophy students get drunk over.

 

Rick and Morty. It…might fall into the first category? (I feel like marathoning something isn’t always the best way to see that though.) but it *definitely* falls into the second category.

It’s the kind of show that people could probably write dissertations on.

I don’t know if I can something like ‘IT’S SO GOOD, EVERYONE SHOULD WATCH IT!!!!’

But I can say…

It’s fascinating.