I left work after a nutso crazy busy day and I was standing on the corner waiting for the light to change. Then I see a guy in a car with his window down saying something to me. I paused the iPod and said, "What?" He replied, "Can I buy you a drink?" Being of a spontaneous nature as I am, I obliged and he parked and we met at a nearby restaurant.
He was visibly nervous and I asked if that was something he normally does, asking women out that are standing on the street corner. He told me no. We chatted for a few awkward minutes and then I was prompted to ask, "So, do you have a family?" He sort of looked at me slightly taken aback and responded, "What do you mean?"
"Do you have a wife and kids?"
"Um, how did you know that?" Really? It's called intuition you mother fucker. Us women have it and idiot men such as yourselves probably can't even spell it.
I responded, "Well I've got to make sure, you know." And aren't I glad I did.
I was not attracted to this man, but I am open to new experiences which is why I accepted his invitation for a drink in the first place. However, having an affair, or whatever the fuck he was looking for is not a new experience I'm open to in the least. I proceeded to ask him what his wife would think of him doing what he did and he answered the obvious answer; she would be quite put off. So then I asked him why he did it, why he invited me to a drink on the street corner. This was his literal reply, "Well, it's sort of like playing basketball", implying that it was something he did for kicks. No, not it's not anything like playing basketball you son of a bitch. If he's so "happily married" as he told me he was, then I have no desire for a "happy" marriage.
I basically barraged him with questions about his family for the next ten minutes and then told him I was gonna head home. I could tell he was ready to leave as well, not that I cared what this scum was wanting or not.
So, yeah, this just happened: I got asked out by a married Jewish guy with three kids and his poor wifey waiting for him to come home. Wowza.
And to finish it off, as I turned to walk home again to my apartment, I pushed play on the iPod and the very first lyrics I heard in the middle of the song I was jamming were, "Don't be sad, won't ever happen like this anymore"(thank you Julian Casablancas). And with a shit eating grin on my face I strolled home. I knew it would never happen like this anymore.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Buzz cut.
It occurred to me in the wee hours of this morning that today was, eighteen years ago, the day I buzzed off my hair and began a journey that continues to this day. I was something of a pissed off, wannabe rebel 16-year-old and after feeling frustrated with my long hair in my face and doing nothing for my "image", I shaved that shit off to a #3 with some borrowed clippers. I remember my younger sister being there in the bathroom to help me, but she refused to do the first pass of the clippers. Oh, the adrenaline!
I had done a few semi-rebellious things to my hair in my younger years as an adolescent, but this entire buzzing of my whole head was taking it to the next level. I don't recall the reaction of my friends and family being too extreme. Nonetheless, there was a reaction. . . just as I was beckoning by doing something so radical to my own hair like that. I didn't get in any trouble with the folks, they knew I was beyond their control at that point and I'm sure a buzz cut on their daughter wasn't of terrible concern. What could they do? It was already gone. A few weeks later, I bought my first grocery store boxed hair color and lightened my hair as much as that cheap crap would do to my new do.
That was really the turning point for me in regards to, from that point on, I've never stopped messing around with hair. And how fitting that my first haircut on myself was a clipper cut. Destined to be a barber. Not only did this soft-core-shocking event change the way I saw myself, literally and figuratively, I unknowingly put myself on the path to being a barber. Because I wanted to keep my sick, punk rock hairdo fresh, I bought some cheap clippers at Walgreens. And when I had my own clippers at home, plus two younger brothers, home haircuts in the bathroom ran rampant! Much to the delight of my mother, I'm sure. Later on down the road of my life, I would cut hair for guy friends in Vail, and eventually left Vail as a young adult to come to Denver to go to hair school.
That silly buzz cut. I wore it for at least a year and a half before growing it into a more normal cut. Looking back, I have to admit that I knew at the time that shaving my head as a teenager would alter the course of my life in some way, it had to. It's amazing to look back tonight on that evening eighteen(!!!)years ago when I looked at myself, looked at my sister, and ran those clippers across the top of my head.
I had done a few semi-rebellious things to my hair in my younger years as an adolescent, but this entire buzzing of my whole head was taking it to the next level. I don't recall the reaction of my friends and family being too extreme. Nonetheless, there was a reaction. . . just as I was beckoning by doing something so radical to my own hair like that. I didn't get in any trouble with the folks, they knew I was beyond their control at that point and I'm sure a buzz cut on their daughter wasn't of terrible concern. What could they do? It was already gone. A few weeks later, I bought my first grocery store boxed hair color and lightened my hair as much as that cheap crap would do to my new do.
That was really the turning point for me in regards to, from that point on, I've never stopped messing around with hair. And how fitting that my first haircut on myself was a clipper cut. Destined to be a barber. Not only did this soft-core-shocking event change the way I saw myself, literally and figuratively, I unknowingly put myself on the path to being a barber. Because I wanted to keep my sick, punk rock hairdo fresh, I bought some cheap clippers at Walgreens. And when I had my own clippers at home, plus two younger brothers, home haircuts in the bathroom ran rampant! Much to the delight of my mother, I'm sure. Later on down the road of my life, I would cut hair for guy friends in Vail, and eventually left Vail as a young adult to come to Denver to go to hair school.
That silly buzz cut. I wore it for at least a year and a half before growing it into a more normal cut. Looking back, I have to admit that I knew at the time that shaving my head as a teenager would alter the course of my life in some way, it had to. It's amazing to look back tonight on that evening eighteen(!!!)years ago when I looked at myself, looked at my sister, and ran those clippers across the top of my head.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
Growing pains.
"I've got an idea!" she said. "I'll write on my blog every day for 100 consecutive days! It'll be good for me!" she said. "I'll be inspired and dedicated and zillions of good things will happen!" she said, "It will feel amazing!"
Nearly seventy days in she said, "Damn, I sure wish I could think of something to write about. This sort of sucks." She even has a long list of things to write about that look boring as fuck every time she looks at them in hopes of sparking some creativity surrounding the related subjects. The ideas come sporadically, but when it comes to actually creating, the ideas bore her. She will have to force things sometimes, oftentimes. She was right when she said that the second half of the personal challenge would be more difficult than the first; just like descending the peak is for her. She knows the end is there, it is just not in sight.
She wants not only to be inspired to create, she desires to spread the inspiration to others, somehow, someway, with her random ramblings about the life of her. She feels compelled to write, but about what? And for what? For herself, supposedly, that in some way may touch others. For the feeling of achieving something she has never achieved. She has lived an adventurous life, coming and going as like the change of seasons. But she wants to learn how to stay put, to endure things that may not be so comfortable as the anonymity of being foreign, unknown, desconocida. She is digging deep for the courage to do so.
"Writing allows me to make my world that only exists in my mind seem real in a way." she says. She will not give up, she doesn't know how.
Nearly seventy days in she said, "Damn, I sure wish I could think of something to write about. This sort of sucks." She even has a long list of things to write about that look boring as fuck every time she looks at them in hopes of sparking some creativity surrounding the related subjects. The ideas come sporadically, but when it comes to actually creating, the ideas bore her. She will have to force things sometimes, oftentimes. She was right when she said that the second half of the personal challenge would be more difficult than the first; just like descending the peak is for her. She knows the end is there, it is just not in sight.
She wants not only to be inspired to create, she desires to spread the inspiration to others, somehow, someway, with her random ramblings about the life of her. She feels compelled to write, but about what? And for what? For herself, supposedly, that in some way may touch others. For the feeling of achieving something she has never achieved. She has lived an adventurous life, coming and going as like the change of seasons. But she wants to learn how to stay put, to endure things that may not be so comfortable as the anonymity of being foreign, unknown, desconocida. She is digging deep for the courage to do so.
"Writing allows me to make my world that only exists in my mind seem real in a way." she says. She will not give up, she doesn't know how.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
Bah humbug.
December 26 is one of my favorite days of the year because it means that the insanity is basically over and it's the furthest away we are going to be from next Christmas. Hey kids, only 364 days left til Christmas! Wahoo! Now hopefully Americans will stop talking about how the shopping is going and about getting overly drunk at their company holiday party.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Is anybody home?
It's not just Toby, I realize that I just miss Los Angeles in general. Is it the winter time in Denver making me miss California? Is it the fact that I never seem to be content where I am, always thinking that somewhere else will be more satisfying? Is it my upcoming trip to LA? I wish I had an answer. . . What I do know is that I had something in Los Angeles that I have not had in any other place I've ever lived; a community.
When I landed in LA three years ago, I lived in a community/commune type living situation for the first year. It was a phone call to a number that I found on Craigslist, and next thing I knew, I had a room in Venice, sight unseen, roommates unseen. Upon arrival, I realized just how crazy it was to have committed to something like that, truly having no idea who these people were that I was to live with. Like many things in my life I just went with it and made the best of it. This initial experience of living in a commune proved to be one of the greatest blessings of my life as I had an instant group of like-minded friends in a city as huge and daunting and flaky as Los Angeles.
From the first six months at the crazy house in Venice, I moved onto a less nutso commune situation in a neighborhood called Mar Vista for another six months. At this house I continued to meet and foster fantastic and unique friendships with very special individuals. After my first year in LA, I decided I had enough of living with ten-plus other people and wanted a more "normal" situation. I found a room in a large townhouse in Mar Vista. A few months in, I had created yet another commune house with members from the other houses, this one being only five people.
All three of these living situations had profound affects on my lifestyle, overall awareness and my consciousness on every level. I met people and created bonds that will never be broken. My life changed in innumerable ways because of the people I met in these communes and the things I learned from each of them. There was always someone to talk with, go out with, cook with, and all of the folks I lived with in LA had something to offer within the community we were all a part of. There was always someone there and we were all trying our best to live a better life.
I really miss that feeling of having my best friends at home. I miss feeling inspired by the magic of what happens when thirteen "hippies" live together. I miss being able to talk with someone who understands where I'm coming from when it comes to consciousness and spirituality, food(a big topic in a commune), relationships, friendships and any other conceivable topic. I miss having a community around me.
Of course I know that this is possible anywhere in the world, Denver being high on that list of places where community can flourish. But right now I live alone and that's what I miss the most; having someone at home to hang with, someone I genuinely am excited to see every day. Shoot, I even miss having friends right down the street as I did in Los Angeles. I feel quite isolated in Denver as I have neither of these.
I've spent my entire adulthood trying to feel like I belong somewhere and I've literally gone to the ends of the earth in that search. I know the age old battle for me is to find that contented nature within my own being. However, in my life I have also found that inner journey is easier and more fruitful when it's supported by others on their own inner journeys. I've never felt more like I belong anywhere than when I was surrounded by a conscious community, flaws and all.
When I landed in LA three years ago, I lived in a community/commune type living situation for the first year. It was a phone call to a number that I found on Craigslist, and next thing I knew, I had a room in Venice, sight unseen, roommates unseen. Upon arrival, I realized just how crazy it was to have committed to something like that, truly having no idea who these people were that I was to live with. Like many things in my life I just went with it and made the best of it. This initial experience of living in a commune proved to be one of the greatest blessings of my life as I had an instant group of like-minded friends in a city as huge and daunting and flaky as Los Angeles.
From the first six months at the crazy house in Venice, I moved onto a less nutso commune situation in a neighborhood called Mar Vista for another six months. At this house I continued to meet and foster fantastic and unique friendships with very special individuals. After my first year in LA, I decided I had enough of living with ten-plus other people and wanted a more "normal" situation. I found a room in a large townhouse in Mar Vista. A few months in, I had created yet another commune house with members from the other houses, this one being only five people.
All three of these living situations had profound affects on my lifestyle, overall awareness and my consciousness on every level. I met people and created bonds that will never be broken. My life changed in innumerable ways because of the people I met in these communes and the things I learned from each of them. There was always someone to talk with, go out with, cook with, and all of the folks I lived with in LA had something to offer within the community we were all a part of. There was always someone there and we were all trying our best to live a better life.
I really miss that feeling of having my best friends at home. I miss feeling inspired by the magic of what happens when thirteen "hippies" live together. I miss being able to talk with someone who understands where I'm coming from when it comes to consciousness and spirituality, food(a big topic in a commune), relationships, friendships and any other conceivable topic. I miss having a community around me.
Of course I know that this is possible anywhere in the world, Denver being high on that list of places where community can flourish. But right now I live alone and that's what I miss the most; having someone at home to hang with, someone I genuinely am excited to see every day. Shoot, I even miss having friends right down the street as I did in Los Angeles. I feel quite isolated in Denver as I have neither of these.
I've spent my entire adulthood trying to feel like I belong somewhere and I've literally gone to the ends of the earth in that search. I know the age old battle for me is to find that contented nature within my own being. However, in my life I have also found that inner journey is easier and more fruitful when it's supported by others on their own inner journeys. I've never felt more like I belong anywhere than when I was surrounded by a conscious community, flaws and all.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
Barber don't buy no presents.
People keep asking me if I've finished all my shopping and I be like, "Ha ha, suckas!!"
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