I Lava Lindy Hop!

I am hardly a dancer, but it's not for lack of trying.  In kindergarten I took tap and jazz.  In the unfortunate recital videos you can practically see the thought bubble above my head with "heel-toe, heel-toe" in it,  my face twisted into a grimace of grave concentration.  We danced to the Locomotion and I'm pretty sure that I was the only leotard-clad kid who couldn't even properly get in the conga-line.

First grade came and my mom took pity on my lack of rhythm and put me in ballet.  Yeah, because that was gonna work out.  Luckily, just before my first ballet recital I broke my arm. Instead of watching me clumsily tripping over myself and moving left when I should have gone right, all anyone saw was the little blonde girl with a cast who was stuck moving like a yo-ho-ho pirate while her fellow dancers lithely moved from one graceful plie to another.  (Actually, "plie" is the only real ballet word  remember.  I'm sure it wasn't all plies.  That would look more like a bootcamp fitness class than tiny tots twirling to "Drip Drip Drop Little April Showers.")

Eventually I was determined to be a lost cause and dance classes were deemed a gigantic money pit.  Luck would have it that my third grade teacher taught the class Triple Time Swing all year in the half hour before lunch, ending in a big 'ol dance production at the end of year school assembly.  And by production, I mean thirty-four nine year olds dancing to a shortened version of "Be True to Your School" without Mrs. Richina having a meltdown.  I remember thinking I was pretty much the best ever at that dance, but it also probably was because I had a major crush on the boy who was my dance partner so I was on a cloud the whole time.  We danced so furiously during the assembly that my tissue paper poodle skirt was ripped! Fate would have it that I would be in an on-again-off-again relationship all through 4th grade with that boy, until finally he was convinced by his marble-shooting friend to dump me, and he called me a "Demented Dog" and broke my poor little one-two-three-rock-step heart.

In high school I was in the school production of Big River as a tart (typecasting...) and when my mom and I went to buy some proper character shoes, we got home to discover that in the box there were two left feet. 

Taking that as a sign that I should just give up, I never really formally danced after that.  My only recent brush with dance was a two-part burlesque class that honestly I have no clue how I did in because I was staring at the girl who was a for-realsies dancer in front of me and pretending that her mirror reflection was actually my own.

But see, I love dance.  I dance all the time, even though I have absolutely no faith in my footwork.  In my living room I perform for my gracious dog and I'm suddenly Ginger-freakin'-Rogers- as you can clearly tell by the video I've provided for you as a visual aid.  

I've always wanted to be one of those people who make other people irate because she's taking up the whole dance floor with her crazy-good moves, but with my history of dance failure I never pursued anything.  

And then I met Lauren.  And in addition to being absolutely adorable and kinda Scarlet Johansson-y, she also does lindy hop.  And when I got really excited upon learning that, she said that there would be a Groupon coming soon and I'd better hop on that.

So I did.  It was a little intimidating going to my first class with Fresno Swing Dance because OMIGOSH, they can dance, but my partner and I bravely walked through the doors and realized that everything was going to be juuuust fine.  Everyone was incredibly nice, there were ringers thrown in with the beginners to help keep things moving and because Lindy Hop is a social dance you switch dance partners the whole time and get to make lots of new friends fast.  

And by the end of my first lesson not only was I able to do it without killing anyone, losing a limb, breaking a mirror or crying but I was also completely hooked.  Like, negotiating with the addict in my head to see if I could maybe give up some of my weekly Starbucks budget to keep my feet moving with classes.  Which, if you know me and my habit of always having a Triple Soy Latte in hand, is kind of a big deal.  

I love that as a follower in swing it's all about intuition and reading your partner, which means I can almost figure out the steps better if I close my eyes and go entirely from my leader's cues.  I love that eventually when I stop tripping over myself I'm gonna look like a badass at weddings, provided I bring a plus-one who can Lindy Hop too.  I LAVA that this is something I had always doubted that I'd ever be able to do and now I can't even imagine not seeing it through and testing myself to see just how slightly-better-than-mediocre I can get.  I might even eventually almost be... good!  And those are the kind of breakthroughs that are rocking my gosh-danged world right now.  If I- the girl with two left Capezios, can dance, what else can I accomplish?

I Lava My Mama

After working at JCPenney for 38 years my mom's last day is today.

Let me say it again.  38 years.

Right?!

I love my mom so much.  She's an amazing parent and I consider her my best friend, like, for serious.  She doesn't keep her amazing ways to herself though, almost everyone at Penney's has a story of how she put countless hours into helping them solve problems without ever seeming put out by them. She's organized and thorough, efficient but also really approachable.

I'm always so in awe of her- I got the really wacky creative genes from my dad while my sister got the logical and rational stuff that makes my mom so unique.  She can see through almost any problem, and if she doesn't have a solution instantly she's tenacious and won't stop until she's worked everything out.  Talking to all of the people who have worked with her over the years I've noticed that they almost all have this reverence for her, like she's the patron saint of retail personnel troubleshooting.

I'm really excited for her, I don't know what she's going to do with this new exciting chapter of her life but I know that she's going to tackle it with her expandable file folders and real sincere love for making sure that all is right in the world.

I love you, Mom.  Happy retirement!

I Lava Treasures!

I've started dating this really adorable demigod and he and I have been enjoying taking long walks from his house through Fresno's Tower District.

While out on such a walk we decided that it was definitely in our best interest to pop into a few of the thrift shops along Olive and see what kind of delightful things we could uncover.

It was definitely a good decision.

We happened upon The LOFT, or Lawson's Original Finds & Thrift, located at 143 East Olive.  It looked promising and neither of us had been in there before so we were both eager to rummage through and see what we could see.

I immediately grabbed a picture frame and held it tightly with spray paint intentions dancing about my mind, my arm candy went straight for the records.

There were all kinds of fun items; a microphone and amp sized perfectly for one to proselytize on the Fulton Mall, vintage clothes, collectable Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle art, and antique toys.

While talking to the owners we discovered that they have such an eclectic stock because they frequent storage auctions and get a good amount of their treasures from there.  We also learned that it's not at all like Storage Wars.  There's a lot of hard work that goes into the process- when you buy a unit you're responsible for everything in there, good and bad, filthy, heartbreaking or odd as the items may be. 

We'd paid for our goodies and my beau and I were just chatting when I saw on the wall a beacon of light in these dark times- a unicorn mirror, and for only $10.  I practically ran to it and swooped it into my loving arms and declared it would be mine.  And then, with a swipe of my card, it was mine. 

I don't think you know how excited I was.  I'm always the witness to fantastic thrift store finds.  My thrift-seeking pal Aurora is the queen of finding the impossible, but I usually am just good at spotting oversized Garfield nightshirts to ironically pair with tights and a belt and call hipsterfabulous.  This unicorn mirror was truly like finding a real unicorn for me. 

Next to it on the wall was an adorable picture of two kittens glaring at a spider with a title that read "Distrust".  That dashing superhuman at my side laughed and declared it to be the original lolcats. It may still be there, and I encourage you to go check and see if it is. And then buy it.  I LAVA the adventure of discovering a new spot for unearthing treasures, and with such nice people running it I have nothing but great things to say about my shopping experience!

LAVA and how to apply it to everything else. Or; Resolutions. Part 2.

2012 

I have only one real resolution:

The be the best Burly I ever have been.

This means taking action on a few things that have been holding me back that I've noticed this year but haven't been ready to tackle.

Be Kinder.  I started joking that I eat kind so that I don't have to act kind.  And then I started acting that way. And that's fucked up.  If the sorting hat were to put me in a house right now I'm pretty sure it would really consider Slytherin.  I'm clearly a Hufflepuff, as embarrassing as that is to admit out loud. 2011 saw me treating some people with less respect than they deserved (while I treated others with more than necessary.) and while it's fun to be cruel it's a little incongruous with the vegan friendly kind kind nice nice lifestyle I'm trying to establish.  Less shit talking, more honesty.

Organize Myself. Now I'm not saying have a clean house because, well, that'll never happen.  I am hoping to get things in my life in order so that I will feel more able to jump into a project when I don't have to weed through the clutter to get to it.  I want to plan in writing, knitting&crocheting, creativity and tapping time into my weekly schedule this year.

Become Comfortable With Myself. This one is tricky.  I like me.  I really do.  But am I comfortable with myself?  No, not really.  Especially when I start thinking about how I act with and react to other people.  This especially applies to dating, sex, relationships, what the fuck ever I end up in.  I've ricocheted from situation to situation this year in a frantic attempt to feel some self worth based on a screwed up scale that had me believing that my only use to people was my sex- whether that just meant as someone pretty to have around, a makeout buddy, someone to talk dirty to or, well, sex itself.  Why else would anyone want to be around me if they weren't angling for that anyway? 

Obviously this is a skewed view of my worth (or maybe not, but I choose to believe I have more value than just walking sex organs) but after the heavy and repeated rejection I was given all spring and summer I was left feeling that I'd never find someone who would make me feel whole.  Fate cruelly gave me someone emotionally unavailable as a soul mate, and if I couldn't convince him that I was his perfect other then I'd have to settle for the rest of my life for uninspired romance with people who would never really click into place.  I treated wonderful people terribly, gave attention to less than wonderful people and well, mix that with some pretty shitty past experiences that go way back and it makes for a terrible cocktail of guilt, worthlessness, unhappiness, desire to please without any hope for reciprocation and depression.

So this year I'm taking a break from sex. 

Not all year.  Just until I can get my head on straight and remove the negative charge from something that should be fulfilling and wonderful.  I'm setting a goal date of Hanson Day, but I'm also reserving the right to not have sex all year if I'm still not right where I want to be. 

Why is this necessary to put up in so public a forum as a blog that nobody reads?

Because a fair amount* of the men I've met in 2011 seem to think that I actually like it when they say things about how they're going to please me.  You know what would please me?  Not having been assaulted by a friend I trusted, rejected by someone I loved except during bouts of drunken loneliness where sex was the only way I could come close to feeling my love reciprocated, reduced to a vagina by men in bars who assume that that's my only function and made to feel like a whore for having low self esteem to the point of panic at the thought of not being loved.  Yeah, I think that just might be orgasmic.

It's up because it has to be said.  It's up because maybe some poor sap who actually reads my blogs (I'm sorry) might identify and might gain some strength from knowing she or he isn't alone in feeling trapped by sex. 

It's up because when some jackass doesn't get it I'll have something to direct them to.  I might even make a business card with this blog address on it. 

I might lose some friends.  You know, because without the potential of benefits what good would I be, right?  I hope that I'm not proven right on this, but I'm not ruling it out as impossible.  It's sad that I feel the need to "reserve the right not to have sex" at all.  But the rules have changed, dating closer to 30 isn't as fun as dating  seemed in my early 20's.  Everyone who is single is shouldering some burden from a past run in with love, or lack thereof.  Even amazing people have baggage that might be holding them back from commitment, trust and honesty.  I know I'm certainly scared to death of a real relationship.  And that's why I'm not having sex.

So there it is.  2012.  I'm going to emerge from the wreck of 2011 better than ever, its not even an option not to.

2011 Wrap Up- Part 1

*Not everyone I've met is like this.  Actually a lot of really amazing people have been treated like shit by me because I have   a terrible way of rewarding kindness with the cold-shoulder. You know who you are.

HOLLA AT YA LAVA, BOYYYYY! Or; an end of the year wrap up- Part 1.

2011.

My initial reaction is to do the whole "Good riddance, eff off 2011 and take all of your nasty baggage with you" blog.  And there will be a fair amount of that.  Actually, lets just get rid of that right now, first thing.  Until we clear that out we can't get to the real meat of what happened this year.

Divorce.Depression.PlummetingSelfWorth.Depression.Rejection.PlummetingSelfImage.Depression.BeingUsed.Rejection.UsingPeople.Uprooting.Depression.SelfCenteredAndEgomaniacal.BeingMean.Depression.Depression.Depression.Rejection.

never let your fear decide your fate.

If there is one thing that has become completely clear this year it is that you have to look in between the calamities, catastrophes and disasters and find the rebirth, as contrived as that sounds.

This year I became a vegan.  Taking control of my diet replaced the control that I was lacking over other parts of my life.  As an unexpected side effect I have finally been able to declare independence from my scale and I don't feel my neck immediately after eating something to see if I've grown any extra chins anymore either. I still don't love myself 100% of the time, but I'm at peace with my body the most that I have ever been.  Something about knowing I'm doing my small part to lessen the blow of the staggering level animal suffering and environmental damage that is caused by the animal production industry helps with that too, I suspect. 

I tried EFT this year, which freed me from an emotionally wrecking relationship, allowed me to think creatively again and helped to bring my skating into a new era of less fear and more risks.  Now I'm seeing clearly, I may not have definite goals but I'm learning how to dream again.  I'm not afraid of thinking beyond the next few hours.  I'm seeing the things I need to do to feel at peace with myself and my reality and making ways to put those things into action.
I'm inspired.

This year was tough, but I think I was tougher.

I LAVA that nothing I endured wasn't done so without a lesson or two learned.  Nothing was actually lost, except maybe some dignity when my mom would walk in on me crying on the floor to Taylor Swift.

2011, thanks for being a teacher.

2012 Resolutions.  Part 2.

I Lava Surprise Kindness

This Christmas I was the  recipient of an anonymous gift.

I came home the night before Christmas Eve to a wrapped package on my porch with a card addressed to me, on the inside it simply said "Merry Christmas".


And it was a new digital camera with all of the accouterments.

My camera broke in August while I was in Portland on a business trip (also known as Sock Summit).  I haven't been able to record months of my children's lives.  And every time I'd do something wacky and talk about it on Facebook I'd get that horrible response for the camera-less; "Pics or it didn't happen."  In short, it's been a difficult last third of the year.

 I have no clue who my mystery gifter is, but I'm hoping that they'll see this and know that I appreciate it more than I can even express.  It's way more than a camera.  It's a reminder to be thankful for the people in my life- all of them because it could be anyone.

Oh yeah, it's also an impetus to pay it forward whenever I can.  

Thanks for these, anonymous friend.

Mollie's first dollhouse.

My new niece, Amy.  She has my sister's eyes.

Proud Papa Chris, my brother in law.

Cary's a very serious kid, as you can tell.

Very serious.

Mollie's such a beauty, even with mustard on her cheek. She dips everything in mustard- noodles, goldfish, bread, her fingers...

I Lava Falling in Lava Again

Fuck your romance, (my romance.)

Fuck your kisses (i share because i want someone to give a shit)

And your plans for the future? (self sabotaging) I say, fuck em.



Arrested development is the theme of December.
I'm wearing sweaters made for fat 11 year olds
and a light up Justin Bieber watch.


Listening to Riot Grrl
Feministing it up like I did when I was 19,20,21, 22...
Remember when I grew pennyroyal?
That shirt that said "I ♥ MY VAGINA"
Oh hold on, I need to put that in my Livejournal.


Reading
reading
reading
readingreadingreading
I forgot how good
Australopithecus Robustus
(or homo erectus, heeheeeeee)
always made me feel, remember?
Remember how I never had a brain for numbers or figures
But I
 fell in love
with
  dating flakes?


      The nights awake
      snapping at my barging-in mother
      and the feeling of pieces falling into place as my fingers tapped the keyboard furiously, not worrying if i    hit the right letters, just hoping it would be correct enough for me to go through in revision and have the bulk   of what i wanted breathed out after inhaling gigantic gasps all day long.
The themes were simple but the release was true and I'd grin through my braces and headgear and finally fall asleep.





I can almost pinpoint when I stopped.
It wasn't your fault
or yours
or yours
or any of yours.
I shifted priorities
and forgot how things felt and filled my feelings with new things.

But it's back to sleater kinney and CUNT and bad poetry (like this) and plastic bags of failed bifaces and scrapers dated in sharpie so it'll never be mistaken for a very poorly made artifact and mary magdalene and brian wilson and I might just go drink some newcastle like its the first thing I ever fell in love with and I might paint a vagina on my wall and call it freedom and I just might call myself a virgin, even if it's only for december.

You had so much potential.  
  tonight
      you
        still
          do.