G-Chat Status: The Latest & Greatest in 21st Century, Passive-Aggressive Communication

He said we were going to spend the summer together.  Promising to pay an even $1000 for my services.  You know, to paddle a canoe around the lake.  Or rebuild a bathroom.  Whichever.  Because Japanese bathtub installation is almost the same thing as sunning in little row boats.  And apparently, the Japanese really know how to take a bath.  (Click this link: http://www.bartokdesign.com/japan/7custom_ofuro/)

Unfortunately, my hammer wielding, bikini wearing plans have been thwarted by an acute case of Westley Syndrome.  This severe, yet commonly occurring phenomenon often plagues the very best of men.  Typical symptoms include: acting as if one wishes to pursue a romantic relationship, and then abruptly blowing you off.  So far, it seems to be a prerequisite affliction for anyone I've ever considered as a serious date. 

Sooo, now I have to come up with a new plan for summer vacation.  So far, this is what I've got:  commence my college career at age 32 and apply to Stanford University.  That, or move to a farm in Canada and milk goats.  I don't know, it's a really tough call.  Maybe I can petition to implement a new Ivy League Goat Milking degree.  What a toss up.

Meanwhile, I've stumbled upon a surprisingly effective new means of communication.  A perfect tool for the stubborn email junkie who refuses to give in.  All those times you've followed up a fight with, "That's it!  I'm cutting you off!  We are NOT talking!" and then immediately spent the next 5 days stalking your ex lover's profile page on facebook? Yeah, this is like version 2.0.  But better.  Because not only do you maintain the integrity of refusing to cave-- you can send subliminal messages at the same time.  It's like esp, in helvetica font.

Yup, that's right, I'm talking about g-chat, my friends.  A spin off of the archaic AIM chat, this is the automatic chat line built in for g-mail users.  Complete with highly effective manipulation tool: the status bar.  Here is where you can vent all your feelings.  Say those things you are thinking, but are resolved not to say.  Tell that yellow, spineless Adonis of a boy what you really think.  He changes his status to "I lost...."?  No problem.  Just rebut with, "Losing is for suckers.  Winning is for suckers too.  I suck good."  Ohhh, oh no, I'm sorry.  You can only write that if you're over 18.  And have a 1-900 #.

But the point is... well, you get my point.  Phone sex operators should stick to the phone.  And vengeful people with troublesomely high IQ's should stick to their computer.  I once had a roommate who always had to have the last word.  Even if she was wrong.  Even if her boyfriend locked her outside of the house because she was yelling and screaming and being completely loony tunes.  Even if she then took a flower pot, smashed it through his window, resulting in a big gash across her forehead.  This is one tried and true method of passive-aggressive manipulation.  If you like things loud and messy, this might be the preferred method of winning fights which works for you.  Personally, I vote for something a tad less brutish and a smidgeon more ruthless.  But her boyfriend eventually opened the door, exclaimed, "Oh honey, you're bleeding!" and took her in.  Now they're married.  I was in their wedding.

Really, though, I say the future of argument winning lies in the cunning manipulations performed via your computer.  G-Chat.  It's the safer, stealthier, pop culture meets uni-bomber, way to win.

Ordinary Fallacious Fancies

     My cat thinks cheddar cheese is better than crack.  This, from a spoiled kitty who enjoys delectable delicacies such as tortilla chips, bananas, tomatoes and dill pickles.  Yet, the poor thing has been nefariously deprived of the much beloved Dairy.  Personally, I blame the influence of all my vegan friends. Only now, thanks to a wicked bout of PMS, cheese is back in the fridge!  And making my cat go absolutely insane.

     Speaking of insane, I recently started wondering if I suffer from delusions of grandeur.  See, in my head I'm already totally famous, living in luxury on my gargantuan estate.  Zebras, lions and elephants amiably stroll by my window . . . while pink flamingos fly overhead . . . as I do naked back flips, off the diving board, into a succession of 10 heart shaped pools.  Just ignore the floaties on my arm as I paddle around the chlorine repleted kiddie pool.  Never mind in real life, the closest diving feat I perform is a tidal-wave induced belly flop.  

     Yeah, actually, you might as well go ahead and ignore the majority of my circadian regimen.  Most hours of which are spent inside either a) the bank, or b) the grocery store.  Where I go.  Every day.  Multiple times a day.  Because I am the crazy freakin' nutcase who needs to frequent these establishments at least once every 12 hours.  Funnily enough, this leaves me with an abundance of business cards and surreptitious cell phone numbers, scrawled onto torn scraps of paper.  If you are ever hankering to go out on a date, but lacking that special someone to wine and dine you,  I highly recommend stalking your local bank teller or grocery store clerk.  It works for me every time.

     **Sigh.**  

     I think I really need to expand upon the hangouts in my daily routine. Like, maybe somewhere where lots of rich people go. What are the billionaires doing all day long?   

     Posed with only one logical solution to this problem, I immediately conducted a short poll to find out.  Sadly, a review of the data did not disclose where the wealthy folk squirrel away in their secret bat caves, but rather-- the overwhelming consensus that they are all fucked up, misanthropic drunkards.

     Hmmm.  That's not what I'm looking for.  I plan on being a happy billionaire.  Aren't there any other ones out there?  New plan:

1. Find out where these miserable people spend all their time.
2. Dress up in an excavation outfit.
3. Dig up the gem that must be buried in the filth.
4. Viola!
5. Happy billionaire teamwork.

      So you know, I've decided to embrace my lunacy.  I'll just keep running with those Delusions of Grandeur.  Next comes flying.  Then to soar.

Journal Excerpt- 1998. The Grateful List.

March 3, 1998.  I am grateful for . . .

 1.  I am grateful my cat came home, survived the horrific fight I could hear from two blocks away, and is sleeping on my bed right now.

2.  I am grateful that Theodore offered me this small gig and gave me a  good pep talk yesterday. [Small gig = dance audition with producer for Puff Daddy music video.]

3. I am grateful my little sister and I get along and she will probably let me borrow her clothes.

4.  I am grateful that after missing a zillion classes and breaking all attendance policies, my singing teacher didn't drop me and neither did my sociology professor. [All the others did.]

5.  I am grateful that my boyfriend's mother was nice to me on the phone when I called her at work today; and I am grateful she will let me come to New York and go on a family vacation with them.

6.  I am grateful for all the opportunities I have been blessed with.

7. I am grateful for cheerios and chocolate cake.

Growing up Mermaid, Thanks to the Pie

I finally figured it all out. When I grow up, I'm going to be a mermaid. Not like one of Juan Cabana's tabloid infused monsters of macabre. Although normally I'm a fan of art a la creepy and bizarre, the dead fishskin/skeletal sea monster look just isn't quite in haute couture style this season.

Nooo, I'm going to be the even more awesome kind of mermaid-- the kind who, in tow with her personal photographer, travels around the world-- to swim in warm, crystal clear water, amongst the teaming sea life; striking stunning poses while sunning on the rocks; flipping her fabulous mermaid tail and coyly flashing the camera a glimpse of her sparkling sea-shell bra.

It all started coming together late last night, while I lay in bed with a stomach full of apple pie and a body covered in bovine saliva. A full afternoon spent playing in the dirt at Gentle Barn Sanctuary had worn me out, resulting in a "short" stop at a friend's house who lived nearby. Nearby, which was nearly 50 minutes away, all the way up on top of a mountain, where the closest living creature might be your friendly neighborhood mountain lion. That, or the Chupacabra.

So I got up the mountain, whereupon I ate an oddly delicious lunch of bean tacos and seaweed soup, laboriously prepared by Mr. Mountain Man himself.  My complete gastrointestinal satiation was then promptly followed up with a very nice nap (while he went back outside and did whatever it is that mountain men of the area do at this time of year.) Upon waking from my slumbers, my hungry little stomach then demanded some fresh apple pie, which it was graciously, gratuitously served, and greedily enjoyed. I followed this by plopping back onto the comfy couch and immediately fell fast asleep all over again.

Strange hours of sleep gave way to oddly interspersed moments of consciousness. These fleeting moments, bespeckled like the feathers of the Gentle Barn emu, resulted in some interesting conversation. Ultimately, it was what led to my new aquatic life-goal epiphany. And I kind of think it's a stellar plan. Which makes me think about UFO's. Apparently, there is a place in Puerto Rico where "ufo" (say oooo-ph-oe) sightings are such a common occurrence that they are widely regarded as fact. So much so, that the town of Lajas has actually proposed the building of a special Ufoport (like airport... but obviously not.)

http://www.jerrypippin.com/UFO_Files_puerto_rico.htm

This is just fascinating. Almost as fascinating as the other career option I was briefly considering. In response to my previous blog asking for career advice, one good friend suggested I become a cryptozoologist. Derived from the Greek word kryptos (which means "hidden") and combined with "zoology" (which literally means the "study of hidden animals,") a cryptozoologist is someone who searches for amazing mythic animals such as Bigfoot and . . . el Chupacabra! See, it would be a useful career-- I could totally do all my research on the top of mountains, while eating pie and taking lots of naps. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for all the chupacabras of the world (at least the mountain dwelling ones in California,) instead of stalking them in psuedo-scientific disquisition, I am going to don some scaley fins and join their mythical ranks myself. Just as long as they promise not to come to sea and eat me.

I was discussing all of this with my sister when she called me earlier this evening. We were having a good conversation about how adults turn into adults, commiserating in bewilderment over the misfits we knew in high school who have somehow managed to become lawyers and doctors. These are the same people who, randomly, used to pull bagels and lobster out of their back pocket when they wanted a snack. Now how on earth did they manage to grow up and join the ranks of normal functioning society? Luckily for us, we have got our heads screwed on straight and don't bother with any of that boring kind of grown- up nonsense.

I truly love that although I hadn't yet shared with anyone my exciting new plans to travel the world as a secret agent mermaid, my sister called me up and serendipitously mentioned that when she grows up, she aspires to be a fairy princess. It's kind of nice knowing that, at our respective ages of 31 and 27, genetic minds think alike and we're both still on the same page.

Notes From Today

This is what I did today:
Wake up and have a lame text message exchange with a guy that lives in his van.
Spend a really long time writing, deleting, re-writing, re-deleting, and obsessing over if I wanted to post something about aforementioned text exchange in one of my online social networking forums. Upon deciding not to, because I didn't want to feed the negativity it was stirring in me, I decided to jot down my thoughts in an email to myself- merely as a therapeutic way to purge- versus posting them for public view.
I then spent a really long time being sucked into surfing the internet, finding things I did not want to find, and consequently obsessing about and writing more about them. This was interspersed by doing a few loads of laundry that managed to come out dirtier than when they went in. And writing about that too.

Anyhow, just for fun, here are some notes which my laptop accrued throughout today:

Why Van Guy is Van Guy
• Reason #103: Under the guise of computer help, "someone" linked a photo from my website to a Justin Timberlake/SnoopDogg youtube video. Uh, thanks Van Guy.
• Reason #104: Response to dismayed text upon discovery: "haha. suck it."
• Reason #105: Dude. You live in a Mini-Van.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-Pu9EYv1HBc

Diary Notes
1/30/2010
After going on laundry strike for 2+ weeks with a suitcase full of dirty after-vacation clothes, I finally break down and wash what is deemed most important-- sans the one article of clothing that was most important! Is it peculiar that I can name the Galapagos beach, (Bartolome,) much of which seems to have traveled home with me, by means of un-rinsed bikini, and made it's way onto the "clean" clothes I just washed? The reddish sand is particular to said beach where a long photo-shoot, involving myself, my sister, and a native Galapagan tour guide, was executed. That, along with a race along the water and a sneaky excursion along a forgotten trail.

5:32pm
What is the world coming to? This morning there is a picture of my face surreptitiously linked to the ridiculous combination of a popular pop-star/rap-star on youtube. This afternoon I spend an inordinate amount of time being sucked into Google images of pimped out 70's vans. This evening I see my once loser, druggie ex-boyfriend now looking like a god damned movie star, face plastered all over a fricking Jet Blue airlines commercial. WTF????

http://theselvedgeyard.wordpress.com/2009/11/22/ultimate-rock-n-roll-on-wheels-the-1970s-van-customization-craze/

Postscript
There is now also a video log of myself reading everything I had to say about above former boyfriend, but that will have to be posted later.

Help Wanted: Provisional Career Shift Whilst Working on Creative Projects and Enduring The Interim of Their Success

Okay, my friends, I am turning to you for some advice. Nothing will be considered too silly, and I am hoping to find something that is not mundane. Currently, I am working on a few different creative projects, but until they come to fruition, the search for a new financial mainstay is on.

Here are some things about me to help you consider my options:

1. I like to be outside. Preferably in the sun. I do not like being cold. I don't mind being barefoot or getting dirty.

2. I like to be around animals. Large, small (but I really like large), feathered, furry, scaled, or finned. Well, finned might be last, only b/c I like to interact with them-- and I don't really see me interacting with sharks or barracudas. But a dolphin or something with flippers would definitely be okay.

3. I like to make stuff. I am good at being a visionary for creative projects. And I am good at physically putting them together-- like the literal hands on part. The whole curriculum planning and esoteric (to me) financial budget kind of stuff can definitely be done, but it is not my forte b/c it's not what I want to exert my energy on. Sewing machine, fabric, paper, found art/scraps & colored pencils are some of my favorite mediums.

4. I also like to and know how to perform. I can probably pull off any style of dance, at least marginally well. I like to wear wigs and false eyelashes. I generally don't like to wear makeup unless I'm onstage.

5. I want to make LOTS of money. Yes, that's right, lots. Some people think that rich people are snotty and lame and money isn't necessary for happiness, etc, etc, etc. That is very noble and that's great for you, if you are that kind of person. Personally, I know myself well enough that I want to enjoy an expensive lifestyle, and to do a lot of the things I want to do (like Lion Taming, Circus School, and traveling around the world- in style) takes money. (THAT said, I currently live in an illegal garage conversion without a closet, heat or kitchen, so we all know I can get by on a marginal income out of necessity.)

Here are a few other things that I want to do and/or hold my interest-- A partial list of favorite inspirational people, places & things:
www.lotusland.org -Lotus land
www.circuscenter.org -San Francisco Circus Center
www.drseussart.com -Dr. Seuss
www.bukowski.net -Bukowski (I used to read as bedtime stories. I know. Don't ask. I like the juxtaposition of his simple and elegant writing with the raunch & crude subject matter.)
www.maryroach.net -Mary Roach
www.jonahlehrer.com -Jonah Lehrer
www.nsi.edu -La Jolla Neuroscience Institue (I want to perform at and know the people who work HERE.)
www.sanctuaries.org -Animal Sanctuaries (for a complete list)
www.justcommunitiescc.org -Just Communities
www.designingasociety.net -Social Justice
www.nacl.org -NACL
www.cirqueberzerk.com -Cirque Berzerk
www.lucentdossier.com -Lucent Dossier (note- I am NOT a "Burner." I don't "party" and don't like to be surrounded by people who do. Any ideas on the likely hood of a successful Straightedge Circus? Geez, I wonder if that's the same kind of thing as Christian Rock?)
www.animalschool.net -Hollywood Animals Lion Taming Program
www.dv8.co.uk -DV8 Physical Theatre (I feel like this alone sums everything up, quite nicely, in a nutshell)

Oh yeah, and apparently another thing I'm good at is having unsolicited married men hit on me. If you have some way of me turning this into a positive thing, in lieu of a skeezy and annoying one, please let me know. Who knows, maybe there's some way to manipulate this alarmingly persistent occurrence into the jackpot of all money makers.

Okay, Thank you. I eagerly await your response.



(Addendum: Oh yeah, I also like to write, edit, and spend a questionably exorbitant amount of time focusing on myself.)

Gracias.