it is saturday

and i just wanted to mention that i couldn't be happier to not be opening the store today. my schedule changed to nights which means

a. i was able to stay up late last night playing wii/creating miis for everyone that contributed to the send-ashley-to-france fund and

b. i could sleep in today! of course because of my usual schedule, i was barely able to make it past 9 am, but that is way better than 3:45.

smiles.

because everyone's a little emo sometimes

i opened at Talk of the Walk in the aeropeurto on saturday morning. for anyone who didn't hear me complaining about it already, that means my shift started at 5 am. Not fun. no one even entered the store until 6, and even after that only one person would amble in every half hour, casually browse some overpriced merch, and then leave, sometimes without a salutation.

so i'm sitting in the chair reading Divisadero when an older man comes into the store. i say hello, half-expecting him to ignore me, but he asks me what i'm reading.

diversion: in my personal experience, i have found that there are two types of old men that will talk to a young woman:

1. the loathsome i-know-i'm-older-but-would-you-please-entertain-my-fantasies-and-not-smack-me-when-i-make-a-comment-about-your-breasts-or-ass

2. the grandfather.

(of course, another type of old man is the agist grump, but he doesn't make the list because he won't likely talk to a young woman in the first place.)

digressions aside, the man who asked me what i was reading was definitely the grandfather type. i told him what i was reading, which led us into a discussion about college, which inevitably led the conversation to my future. i told him about France and he was genuinely impressed (which is nice because my maternal grandfather is not the grandfatherly type of old man but the agist grump, and therefore not interested in talking, or congratulating me, about France).

this old man was so nice that when he felt it was time to leave the store, i shook his hand and told him it was my pleasure to meet him. and just so you know, that is a big deal. i work in an airport. i don't shake many hands.

after a few more minutes of reading Ondaatje, the old man re-entered the store to buy gum. when i stood to ring his sale, i noticed that he noticed my shape. it wasn't a creepy ogling, though. more of an acknowledgement of a pretty girl lifting her curves from the chair she was sitting in.

he said, "so you're gonna break your boyfriend's heart when you go to France, aren't you."

i was so flattered i could have cried. instead, i said, "oh, sir. i wish i could say i had someone's heart to break." when he didn't seem to believe i was single, i added, "it seems no one wants to date someone who is leaving in five months."

and here is where i get emo.

i've entered this new phase in my life where i say what i want to say. i've held feelings inside most of my life, and just a few months ago, i decided i wouldn't do that anymore. since then, i've told a few people exactly how i feel about them, and it hasn't changed a damn thing. there is still clearly something about me that halts the men in my life from coming after me, even when i make it clear how i feel. is it France? is it weight? is it intelligence?

i don't know. what i do know is that i have rolled my heart out red-carpet style before the men in my life, and they have all remained indifferent. sometimes i wish that someone would trample it, tell me why i'm not worth love. at least there would be action involved in that.

because everytime someone ignores what i've said, it gets harder to say it next time. and i know that eventually i'm going to shut down.

end emo rant.

Party Recap

so this birthday was one of those birthdays that lasted all week. actual birthday, then birthday dinner on friday with em and mike (at bonefish grill which was, despite my aversion to seafood, incredibly delicious), then most awesome party ever on saturday night! click here for the quick-and-dirty-recap(pun fully intended, rach), or read on for further details.

after a lot of preparation, including the setup of balloons, party food, two life-sized marilyn monroe cutouts, noisemakers, and confetti, my awesome party guests began to arrive.

and i do have the most amazing friends.

in addition to nostalgia bubbles, french kiss liquer that tastes so amazing it doesn't need a chaser, a pink elephant by amanda visell, and one rock ass card about prepositions, i got another very special gift: all of my friends pulled together and started a send-ashley-to-france fund.

and to think last week i had been rambling to donna about how i wasn't sure i was going to be able to make it there if i couldn't afford a plane ticket. well, thanks to some of the most amazing people in the world, i can now afford one-third of a round-trip ticket. and i have full faith that i will be able to come up with the rest of the money.

thanks again, awesome party buds. you don't know how much you are appreciated.

oh, yeah, and the midnight walk on the beach was pretty much one of the best times i've had.

Reason #56 why i love smart boys:
when i asked tim why the moon looked red, he was able to explain the reason to me using science talk. i can't repeat what he said because i was intoxicated. sorry.

Birfday Recap

i didn't really think 22 could be better than 21. i know, i'm prepared to have everyone even a day older than me get upset at this comment, but time is going by too fast and i feel old! i wish that i could have stayed 21 forever. well, not really, but maybe one more year?

anyway, what i was originally getting at is that, even though i was a tad apprehensive about 22, it was quite wonderful!

i got flowers delivered to me at the office for the first time ever,


i got to hang out with my family, including my supermodel neice (look at her pose!)




and my incredibly wired nephew (of whom I will post a pic later because my camera just died),

and when i got back to oc, there were balloons in my bedroom, champagne in the fridge, reubens about to be assembled, Wii to be played, and Paris, Je T'Aime ready to watch.

i don't think this birthday could have been any better.

oh yeah, i almost forgot, i started to learn "Samson" on the keyboard.

May 20th is a special day

not only did these important things happen, but it is also my birffffday!

today my mom told me that i could have anything i wanted for dinner, so i chose
1. shake-n-bake chicken
2. macaroni and cheese
3. corn on the cob

i think she might think i'm mocking her cooking skills.

Sometimes happy to not be in college anymore

No more presentations like this.

Read more hilarity.

i wanted to show everyone this

postsecret from the mother's day collection, but i can't save the picture of it because whenever i run the mouse over, it changes to this image (i assume the flipside of the card):



the side of the card that made me cry, though, reads "my mom found this secret and confronted me. A year later, I can say:" and then there is red marker scrawled over the original postsecret that says "NOT ANYMORE."

The original postcard said, "I wish I could just kill myself and no one would be hurt."

At the very bottom, the author wrote, "(Thanks mom, for saving my life)"

I never doubted my gratitude for postsecret, but some stand out more than others.

i have the best roommates in the whole world

last week, i was really depressed. and i wanted to cry. but i thought that that may not be the best idea, because - in my prior experience - boys are not the most comforting species. here and there, a boy really stands out in his ability to comfort a crying female, but most of the time, he fumbles, not sure where to place his hands or what to say, and if he remembers that tissues may be appreciated, he can't remember where he last put them.

so you can understand my hesitation to cry in front of my roommates - all three of whom are male.

but i was wrong.

mike is incredibly able to talk about things without passing judgement, at least until i am ready to handle it.

andy is always ready with a hug that will last as long as i need it to and a hilarious youtube video.

and chris moore - well, i hadn't ever really exhibited the sad emotion in front of chris moore and i wasn't sure what he would do. so i was happily surprised/relieved when the tears snuck into my eyeballs and he immediately jumped up to play a feel-better song on his itunes: "Bowl Of Oranges" by Bright Eyes.

and this gesture was uniquely chris moore and very comforting.

so last week i learned that i can let the tears flow whenever they want to, because my roomies are exceptional members of the opposite sex.

gotta keyboard

finally! so far i learned how to play such masterpeices as:
1. "strangers in the night"
2. a really scary sounding couple of notes - you know the ones you would hear in a horror movie
3. the sound that plays at the beginning of a baseball game
4. the percussion noise at the beginning of "cell block tango"
5. the bass line of "stand by me"
6. the opening of "lean on me"
7. a few notes of some christmas-y song that Donna knows on autopilot and

(synthesized drumroll please)

8. "consequence of sounds" by Regina in its entirety! please, feel free to applaud me for figurng out the notes by myself. that's right, all nine of them.

ok so i definitely need to learn more about this instrument. maybe i can begin by learning how to read sheet music and which keys are which on the board.

today: piano for dummies, tomorrow: carnegie hall!

public acknowledgements to Rach

for bringing Happiness into my life. Because Donna plagiarized. For shame.

nostalgia

makes
me
happy.

Happy Birthday Mike Mabes

i haven't seen you
in a lot of years,
and i don't know
what you are doing
since we lost touch.
sometimes i worry
because the last time
i talked to you we were
fifteen and you were using
and had just fallen
off a roof and broken
your leg. and you said
you would come to mays
landing and steal me from
my life, but you never did.
and then you disappeared
from AIM. i loved you
in a teen way, but the someone
else lived in jersey, and in high
school virginia seems a world
away. happy twenty second.
i hope you know i wanted you
to steal me.

It's not that I want to have babies

necessarily, but if I were going to have babies, I would want all 86 of them to be from this man:
Then perhaps my babies would be genui like him. And if I am going to have his babies, tonight is my opportunity, because he's reading at the Free Library in Philly. And I am unbelievably stoked because Ondaatje is the author of one of my favorite novels ever, In the Skin of a Lion. Oh please, that doll scene? Heaven. First Lucille, now Ondaatje. France accepted me. Can things get any better?

This weekend

I was in Philadelphia. I was bored and being me, so I decided to start rapping "Ice Ice Baby" to Jason because it was in my head. And I saw a man. He was very tall, very muscled, very tattoed, and he looked like he may have spent some time in prison. My first instinct was to distance myself a little but then I saw the shirt he was wearing:



Then I wanted to hug him.

Dear Lucille Clifton,

Thank you so much for not disappointing. Last night was the first time I saw you in person, and you were incredible. Of course your soft-spoken poetry was fantastic, especially the new ones you wrote about Aunt Jamima and Cream of Wheat.

And when you read "Fury", after you told the story of your mother, it was so beautiful and sad that I cried real tears on my cheeks and hoped Sharon and Chris wouldn't see.

But perhaps more wonderful than your reading was the question and answer section. Because most of the questions were not questions but praise or reminders of familiarity. Like, "Lucille, I wanted to thank you for reading. I didn't know who you were before tonight but my girlfriend made me come and... and...I love you."

Then there was the man a few seats to my left who was more eager to be called on than anyone:

Man: Lucille?
You: Yes.
Man: I baby sat your kids. All six of them. My wife and I (motions to his wife).
You (after a few beats): Beth? Steve- no not Steve. What is your name? I'm so sorry.
Man: Roger.
You: Oh my! Did you know that (insert oldest's name here) is forty-seven years old? And (two more children) have passed.
Man: I know. We were sorry to hear that.
You: How's your brother? (To audience) Oh, excuse us.

I wanted to ask you about the fox that appears in so many of your poems. You write so beautifully of her, and I wanted to know what her inspiration is, and what she means to you, but I didn't have the guts to raise my hand.

Oh, I thought about asking you at the book signing table, but I thought I would rather use my time to have you sign my favorite poem "Song at Midnight" instead. Remember when I told you that that poem speaks to me, and you gave me some very wise words about men? Well, you were so soft-spoken that I didn't hear everything you said, and I figured the fox answer would be lost the same way if I asked it.

I'm sad that I didn't hear all of your advice about men, but if I'd asked you about the foxes and missed your answer, well I don't know if I could handle that.

I hope she reads this one

Song at Midnight
by Lucille Clifton

…do not send me out
among strangers
Sonia Sanchez

brothers,
this big woman
carries much sweetness
in the folds of her flesh.
her hair
is white with wonderful.
she is
rounder than the moon
and far more faithful.
brothers,
who will hold her,
who will find her beautiful
if you do not?

Tonight

I'm going to see Lucille Clifton give a reading in Philly, and I absolutely cannot wait! When I first looked at today's date I was disappointed for two reasons:

1. May 1st means National Poetry Month is no more. I rocked it, though. Thirty poems in my file for the month. Some complete, some completely lacking and undone. I only cheated three times - one haiku, one found poem from Michel Faber's The Courage Consort (how could I not? all the lines were amazing), and one revision from last May. I don't know how I'm going to not write a poem every day.

2. May 1st means today is the anniversary of my brother's death. Which means that my parents are, probably as I write this, visiting his grave. Which also means that, although I wasn't yet a fetus when he died, I still feel mildly guilty for being excited about

a. Lucille Clifton tonight and

b. setting up an appointment to have Mike E Cheese finish my tattoo!

I also cannot wait to see Rachel and Donna tomorrow! It has been far too long and that makes me sad. I know they are small fluctuations but I hope these happy-disappointed-excited-sad mood swings subsist soon. If this turns into all of May, that will not be fun.