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-fuschia
-blue black
-red
-blonde (likely a "natural" darker blonde rather than the usual highly bleached blonde I've been before)
Anyone care to offer their choice of color? I'm leaning towards doing the fuschia first, since most of the others could be worn in a proper adult job setting. And when the weather warms up, I'd also like to shave it all again soon.
It was a much milder version of the reaction I had to watching Fahrenheit 9/11 a couple months ago. I didn't see that movie when it came out because it was right around the time that Mark was in Iraq, and there was no fucking way I was in any sort of shape to watch a movie about how retarded George W. Bush is or how stupid the Iraq war plan is because I was angry enough already. Well, I had it on while puttering around the apartment and was quite enjoying it as a historical document, thinking that I was well past any issues I had at that other time.
Then they got to the part where they showed the injured and dead soldiers. And they interviewed the mother and family of one of the dead young men, showed her reading his last letters home and her talking about how she fell on the floor when she got the phone call that her son was dead. At that point I had what I can only describe as a bit of a freakout as I flashed back to all my fears and pain from Mark's deployment.
It wasn't a conscious thought that triggered it, not like I was watching and thinking, "Oh gosh, that sure reminds me of all the nightmare scenarios I imagined and how scared and depressed I got all the time. Boy, that sucked and I am now going to be sad!" It was more like, "Gosh, that poor woman, what terrible clips OH FUCK I'M FREAKING OUT AND CRYING AND SHAKING WHAT THE FUUUUUCK?" With no warning my throat prickled and clenched, my stomach twisted and cramped, my hands started shaking and tears were running down my cheeks. I was thrown back to all the months I was scared to watch the news or even check my Yahoo! account for fear of the daily headlines of deaths, all the afternoons spent at my desk in Japan on the verge of tears and trying not to zone out with the distant stare that I kept wanting to slip into. I didn't lose anyone over there, not yet at least, but I was faced again with all the terrible, dark fantasies I entertained when I didn't keep a close enough watch on my thought processes, all the anger and rage that was barely contained.
I still get angry when I talk about that year with friends, even now writing this, in fact, my heart is racing and I'm a bit agitated.
The fit passed, but it gave me the depressing reminder that I'm not really over it and it can all be triggered by certain stimuli. I can't even imagine the pain of those who went over there and saw terrible things, or who had a loved one killed or brutally injured and disfigured. My experience was "easy", as far as such things can ever be, so this episode was the mildest possible side effect of the war and deployment. How much more terrible the trauma of those others!
So hey, nearly 7 years on, let's spare a thought for those dead, injured, still over there, and those left behind.
A couple weeks ago I asked Mark if he'd used it all up yet. He sighed and said no, but now he uses his regular bar soap on his body, saving the Axe for washing his butt.
Me: So you're saying that Axe is ideally suited to washing assholes?
Mark:...Yes, Axe is PERFECT for washing assholes.
Me: I always figured as much.
Har har.
Casting about for what I will do next with my life (besides rock out with my super cool husband), I came across this camouflage/ paramedical makeup school in Washington, D.C. When I left cosmetology school I was actually interested in camouflage makeup, but, perhaps surprisingly given all the plastic surgery joints in this town, had a hard time finding a school for this, and so I kind of let it drop. I was reading the latest issue of Makeup Artist Magazine, and there was an article about medical makeup artists that reminded me this, so I thought, heck, D.C.'s a happenin' place, there must be something there, and sure enough there is.
I think I could be could at this, given the proper training. I have an irritating, Hermione Granger-like need for academic validation that yet more schooling would satisfy; I like achieving in school and have always done well and received a number of honors for academic spiffiness. It's like, I don't even have to continue in that line of work, sometimes it's enough to succeed, prove I can do it, then move on to what has caught my attention yet.
The cost isn't too prohibitive. It's near the metro line. It's good work that can help people feel better about themselves. My major concern is with the dealing-with-people part of it, stupid as that sounds. Could I handle dealing with different people that closely every day? I don't know. At least in a job like that I would have a measure of authority and so wouldn't just be some sap, but I'd certainly have to negotiate a variety of situations that might require a certain psychological finesse, given the fact that many people needing camouflage makeup have suffered some sort of trauma like burns or have may have a lifetime of baggage from living with things like vitiligo and massive port wine birthmarks. That could be tough.
On the up side, unlike my current job where people seem to think I'm some sort of therapist, in that kind of job I WOULD be getting paid to offer therapy of a sort, and so might resent it quite a bit less. I also have to see how long we'll be in the D.C. area and if not there, then where, so that if I would finish the course I'd know where to look for a job.
I don't know. I have to think about this, but for now it's a comfort to know it's an option. Too many choices!
On a different note, and coming from the entry about Voodoo Doughnut, LiveJournal spellcheck aparently doesn't recognize "doughnut" as a word, and it instead suggest several variations of "donut". Dear God.
-Went to the library and found many new books, including a Terry Pratchett book I haven't yet read (Lords and Ladies) and at the self check-out, a gnarly dude next to me saw the book and said, "My daughter loves Terry Pratchett!" and we smiled at eachother.
-Went to Target. Wait, no, it was SUPER Target, and I rambled around there, not intending to buy anything because the check-out lines were stupid long. I went out to the garden center to make my usual rounds past the succulents and, as of late, the orchids. The succulent section was disappointing, but I found a beautiful miniature orchid that I did not buy. It was a Phalaenopsis Brother Spring Dancer (or was it just Brother Spring? no matter). It has rounded white blooms with a pink blush in the center and, when you look closely, a spray of human-freckle-colored freckles on the inside. Lovely!
-Next, to Starbucks where I enjoyed a Pumpkin Spice Latte with the last of my gift card, which was 2 cents short but the guy behind the counter spotted me the spare change. Excellent! I sat and read and tried to dream up another idea for a painting, and I did! It's a girl with white hair like a dripping egg white wearing a yellow beret that is, in fact, the egg yolk. Twee, perhaps, but should be cute.
-Finally to the Home Depot next to the Starbucks, to make another round through another garden department. No succulents, but many pretty orchids, including some with the sorts of while blooms barely touched with blushes of color that make my heart pound. The annoying thing, which I suppose is only to be expected when shopping at a large commercial outlet like this, was that most of the orchids I saw were very lamely labeled. I don't know if the company that grew them neglected the little label cards or if someone at HD removed them, but rather than being labeled with their full names and description they were given only the broadest, like "Dendrobium" or "Phalaeonopsis" or worst of all, on the one with blooms that looked like little somersaulting spiders, "Exotic Orchid". This is like going into a pet store where someone has labeled half the dogs as simply "Terrier".
Oh well, nice to look at, at least. I would have bought one or two except that I'm moving soon and, while I'd love to expand my collection, don't feel like moving a whole damn nursery with me quite yet. It may inevitably happen, of course.
-While walking back to my car I spotted a big red paint splatter in the parking lot that looked like a heart so, clever, soppy girl that I am, I took a photo of it with my phone and sent it to Mark straight away.
-Finally, on the way home, there was a woman on Prairie Home Companion singing a song that had cowboy yodeling in the middle, and I really like cowboy yodeling.
All in all, a successful ramble and I now plan to spend the evening in ruminating on my collected small pleasures.
Here's why it's rude: you don't know why they don't want to eat, and maybe they don't want to talk about it, ok? Now it's possible that they spaced out and missed the dinner bell, but this is doubtful. At best, they're not hungry. In many cases, they just don't want to eat for more awkward reasons.
I've had this happen to me when I get somewhere and each food option offered is either a piece of meat or contains teensy ground up pieces of meat that are impossible to remove. Now, I'm not going to sigh and wail and gnash my teeth and make a scene about there being nothing meatless because I try to not be an asshole, so I'll just enjoy a drink and a cracker. But I'll be damned if someone, trying to be a good host, doesn't start asking with sad puppy eyes why I'm not eating. I say I'm not hungry, they press, I end up saying it's because I don't eat meat and there's nothing therefore for me to eat, in which case the host either gets a little embarrassed, or the whole thing spirals into a big group discussion about my vegetarianism which I ALMOST NEVER WANT TO GET INTO AT A DINNER PARTY SO LEAVE ME ALONE!
It also happens to my mom, who never eats dinner. She just doesn't eat after about 4 pm, but we'll go out to dinner with people to socialize, she won't order anything, and several people then start asking if she doesn't want anything to eat, hmm? She's an adult, you guys, she knows how she can get food!
There are other reasons someone might not be eating. Just to start:
-They're nervous about their STD test in the morning.
-They're depressed because they just found out their child has cancer.
-They're super excited because their SO is coming into town and they're preoccupied thinking about all the hot hot sex they'll be having this time tomorrow.
-They have an eating disorder or some issue with food which I'm sure they're dying to discuss in public, ya think?
-The smell of this barbecue reminds them of the morning their uncle molested them when they were 5, so they're not real excited to dive in.
-They just got over food poisoning and spent all last night puking their guts out, but don't think everyone else wants to hear about it.
-They saw someone double dip in the salsa or sneeze on all the rolls.
-They just don't like the food but are too polite to make gagging noises.
See? None of these are things that one wants to discuss in polite company. Food is a highly personal thing, what you eat, what you don't eat, when, where, how, with whom, all surprisingly personal, and I try to make it a point to never quiz someone about food in public. So uh, yeah, that's my weird rant for tonight.
Don't get me wrong, I like the makeup thing and the art thing just fine, but I'm still wondering if I want to make those big time things. But even with those I wonder if I'll want to do them for a long time. I suppose it doesn't matter if I've at least found something else to move on to. The jobs I've tried so far or trained for (archaeologist, assistant teacher, hair stylist, retail) have been valuable experiences, but I ultimately couldn't bring myself to do them for longer than a couple of years. I get bored and have to move on and wonder just how the hell people stay in a job for DECADES.
These thoughts also come about as I feel in a funk and ask myself, "Well damn, what am I good at? Am I good at much?" I'm generally good at working with people, though like most folks I can hit my limit in dealing with stangers' bullshit. I'm good at being likable and cracking jokes and drawing fun little things, but so what? I panic wondering if I'll just be adrift from here on out. I think a small part of the problem is that for many of the "professional" jobs, I have no idea what they actually entail on a daily basis and so don't know what would fit. What the hell does a copy editor do all day? I have no idea. A blacksmith I can wrap my head around, as the whole smithing thing makes sense. Many of the trade jobs make sense to me for this reason.
I'm just feeling a bit frustrated at the moment. It will likely pass, but I'd still like to hear about your experiences. Argh!
One of my favorite psychological exercises is to take all the things I've decided to pass along and put it together in one pile. I then imagine that someone has just come to my house and dumped all this stuff here, asking me to find a place for it. It's laughable to think of finding a place for it all and yet, just days before, I HAD! Whoa, dude!
I am obviously easily amused.
Mark has accepted a longer contract at Coast Guard HQ, so we'll be upping sticks and moving to Washington, D.C.! He was offered the job weeks ago, but was also notified of an opening in Tampa, which he applied to. We both were fine with either job and Mark was leaning more towards wanting D.C., so it was no heartbreak when he was told yesterday he had no gotten the Tampa job. Yay! I'm just really excited to know what we're doing. It seems like D.C. will also have more arts-related things for me and Mark will be making enough that I could focus on that. I'd like to have a part-time job, at least, since I prefer having my own money and don't want to stay at home all the time. Maybe I'll get one of those $16 an hour dog-walking jobs. Shitty in the winter, perhaps, but I'll take 16 bucks an hour to watch a dog crap in the snow. I'd do that anyway for free, because I'm a classy broad.
We're not leaving right away. I'm not leaving my job before the holidays, as that would be kind of mean to leave at the busiest time, and they're treated me quite well there. Mark will get some time off at the holidays and so will come down here, and I'll be back and forth in early 2010 for movie work, so I guess I'll say that I'm moving up there after the holiday season is over. In the meantime, I'm going to try to go up in early October, Mark will be down in late October for Chris and Reba's epic Halloween party, and the aforementioned holiday time together. It's also good to be able plan visits, now that there's some structure.
I don't know where we'll be living, though likely and hopefully in Mark's current condo. It's a bit small and we'd likely have to store much of our stuff, but it's a nice place, it will save Mark a move, and it's in a great location that we're both at least a little familiar with.
Fun trivia: this we be the second national capital in which I've lived. Tsukui, Japan is a suburb of Tokyo, of course, and counts well enough for this trivia fun fact.
If you had asked me when I was younger whether I rather be a city girl or a country girl, I would have answered country, since my parents' house is in the woods. But after living so close to Tokyo and visiting Denver, Colorado with Mark, I grew to like the city more and more. To me it makes environmental sense, too, since living in a city means walking or taking public transport on a daily basis, perhaps with a car for weekend trips. I love looking out the window at the city, especially at night when all the lights come on and you can see into other windows. That's not to be creepy as I'd rather not see people fucking or whatever, but seeing them go about other activities, this awareness of being surrounded by human activity and then being able to turn back inward to my own doings.
Ideally, I would love to live above where I work, or above a bookstore. I have fantasies of walking downstairs on weekend mornings with Mark to get some coffee, sitting in the shop and reading and drawing, walking to do some grocery shopping, perhaps catching a movie or just people watching, and dinner at a cute restaurant. These fantasies sometimes include our child.
Where Mark is is also only a couple train stops away from the Library of Congress, and one of my favorite places ever in the library and here is the biggest one in the country! Joy! And the Smithsonian is right there, too! Museums and libraries and walking to Chipotle and delicious Eritrean food and Starbucks. Yes.
I will, of course, miss my friends and family here terribly. We'll be back to visit, of course, and there's always the Internet and Facebook, but it's still distance and will be strange to not meet Jess and Adam for beers at The Cock & Bull, or go next door to see Tex jump on Bailey while Aja snoozes on a pile of blankets in the closet. People ask my mom if she'll be sad when I move, and she just laughs and reminds them that I once lived MUCH farther away than Washington, D.C. If she missed me enough, she could drive up to see me in a weekend.
More details as this proceeds. It's all very exciting.
marriedtothesea.com
Yesterday I was at Target looking for undies for my Leeloo costume when I strolled past the Amazing Jacket. It's black, with a snug military cut (pointed at the bottom, double row of big silver buttons and stitching across the front and I slight, stand-up collar) and, joy of jots, sleeves that are long enough! The only one left was just in my size and the price was right. It was obviously meant to be. I LOVE military-style clothes, from 17-19th century gentlemen's attire, to 20th-21st century multi-pocketed utilitarianism. Joy!
I have a number of jackets, pointing to the fact that I should probably live somewhere other than Florida but no matter, I can wear them in over-conditioned stores. Besides, I've worn the other Target jackets I have for yonks, so it's not like this will want for wear.
Today's splurge was on a lovely palm-sized piece of labradorite we had at the store. This is isn't it, but the purple looks a lot like this one. It was out on the shelf for a few days and I was deciding when I realized that I'd be miffed if someone came up to the register with it in their grubby paws. A cool customer, I'd be fine letting it go, but if some jerk wanted to buy it, I'd be heartbroken. 'Tis just a stone, yes, but it's lovely! I love the color purple, and this stone in this shade is rather rare. The price was good, too, so I figured what the Hell?
I rationalize my stone purchases by thinking about how, when I have kids, I can use them as geological teaching tools. Also, unless they get pulverized to powder, they'll last pretty much forever. Certainly longer than me.
On a side note: while it's impossible to know every single source, the store owner who buys the stones always does her best to make sure that the stones come from responsible sellers who mine them as cleanly as possible. In many ways this is a bit like eating humanely slaughtered meat. Cows' still dead, but it's a teensy bit better.
All told, my splurges set be back about 60 bucks, which for me is a quite a bit. I just don't idly buy too much stuff. Even in Japan, when I had more money, a big day out saw me come home with 15 dollars worth of stationery. I am always a bit gobsmacked when people check out at my store and they drop 80, 100, or 300 bucks like nothing. I don't resent them for that (much of the time they're getting really cool stuff, so good on them), it just seems so strange.
Heather is the one who got my paintings in the art show at the library and I was partially going so I could give her the three paintings of mine she ordered. I wanted to keep the originals but promised to paint her up her own copies. When she went to pay me, she said, "It was $40 a piece, right?" I reminded her that, since she was getting a set of three, I had said I'd let her have them for $60 all together. She made a face and reached in her purse. "Here," she said, handing me a wad of cash, "I don't want you to argue." It was 120 bucks! Yikes! I was pretty stoked to be getting 60, but 120 was a great surprise and will go some ways towards helping my finances for the month. I don't live on much, so 120 bucks is a big deal to me, especially for some of my little ol' creatures!
My art is getting a bit of local recognition, at least, in large part thanks to friends like Heather and Carrie. Carrie has 2 of my paintings in her place, and when Heather was showing off her new paintings last night, a few people at the table got all excited and looked at me. "Oh my God, YOU'RE the one who does those? I LOVE the squid Carrie has!" Another guy chimed in, having seen my work at the library. "I love the one with the balloon animal taking a balloon poop!" I was a little abashed, but appreciative of the recognition and praise.
Heather is trying to get a gig playing with Miles at a nearby Starbucks and said that if I wanted, I could come set up while she plays, paint away, and during the set she'd plug my work and I could sell what I was painting at the time. Sweet!
She also said that, during one of the summer kids programs, a little 8-year-old wrinkled her nose at my balloon dog poop painting and said it was disgusting. Heather asked if she didn't think that balloon poop wasn't less gross than real poop. She was unconvinced. Yes, I've disgusted a prissy 8-year-old! Heather and Miles then asked me to make the balloon poop noise, which consists of sucking air in between my lips in a squeaking fashion that is, incidentally, beloved by terriers as well. Beloved in this case = wanting to bite your lips off.
Passerine played a looong time, 3 sets in all. They sounded great and folky, especially when Miles played his bass with a bow. I love upright bass! We left before they finished as even Heather was getting tired during the third hour. She's a good wife, though, in that she goes to every one of his performances and stays the whole time, but last night defeated her.
I left feeling pretty good about myself and thankful that I'm able to be friends with such groovy people. How do I do it? How do I attract these cool folks? I dunno!
Night 1
-Arrive an hour late (yay, ATL!), greeted by Mark at gate and get the best kisses ever, try not to make a scene
-Mark drives us back to his place, gets a bit lost but sets it right
-Get reacquainted
Day 1
-Brunch at the nearby noodle joint. I enjoy the udon with added sriracha. We both enjoy extensive discussion of Star Wars.
-Dr. Horrible's Sing Alon Blog
-Afternoon jaunt to Starbucks
-Go to see Disctrict 9, my second viewing, Mark's first.
-Mark heats up some vegetable tikka masala for us while we watch Torchwood and Man v. Food.
Day 2
-Brunch at nearby sushi joint
-Cruise around Pentagon City mall
-Dinner at Thai restaurant
-Dessert at Coldstone Creamery
-Mark introduces me to Mary, one of the building concierges, and she shakes my hand and exclaims about how beautiful I am. I blush.
-Back to back eps of Dirty Jobs then Mythbusters
-Beers out on the balcony
-Mark watched the Broncos preseason online, I read Kurt Vonnegut
Day 3
-Smithsonian Natural History Museum where we watch the IMAX Deep Sea movie, look at human bones and 17th century surgical kits and, a pickled giant squid and, joy of joys, the gemological exhibit. Watermelon tourmaline the size of my forearm! A wall covered in quartz! A case full of opal! Fluorite in every color, all of it looking like Doctor Who props! Mark said his favorite part was watching me get excited by the gems.
-Also saw the Hope Diamond. The room it was in was pretty crowded and after the gemological wonders in the previous room, I admit it was a bit of a let down. Still pretty impressive, though.
-Retire to the apartment, to tired even to make it to the dinosaur wing of the museum.
-Dinner at a nearby Eritrean (sp?) restaurant. We split the vegetarian sampler and spend many silent, happy minutes scooping up globs of spiced lentils, spinach and cabbage with pieces of enjera bread. My first taste of such cuisine and I friggin' loved it.
-More Torchwood
-Crying, mostly on my part, a I hate the thought of leaving him.
I'm immensely sad to have left Mark behind, but I had a pretty much perfect visit that felt longer than it was. It also feels great to walk around secure in the knowledge that I'm so deeply loved, a sense that whatever happens, well, fuck you, I have the love of a wonderful man so piss off.
Mark's apartment is very cute. Small but neat and modern, with floor to ceiling windows. And location? Fab! Walking distance to all sorts of stores and restaurants and across the street from the metro.
Speaking of which, the D.C. metro stations are wicked creepy, with their low lighting and Expressionist ceilings, perpetual midnight somewhere post-apocalyptic. It's like waiting in line for Space Mountain, an effect intensified by the smell of industrial lubricants. Of course, I mean to say that they're creepy in a good way, and I suspect they will be added as a recurring setting in my frequent public transport-related dreams.
Yay, Mark! Thank you!
-Saw District 9 with my dad on Friday morning. I fucking loved that movie and am so happy to see that it had such a tremendous opening weekend. I won't go into it too much for the sake of those who haven't yet seen it, but it's good stuff.
-Went to Pho Cali, a local Vietnamese restaurant, with Andrew, Jess and Adam after work today. I got the lemongrass tofu and it was fucking delicious. It was cooked with lemongrass and chilies and onions and was wonderfully spicy and flavorful. Yum!
-It being a cloudy rainy evening and me on my own, I'm watching Jeeves & Wooster, because it makes great lonesome evening viewing. However, I rarely watch the episodes where they're in New York, mostly because I spend all my time anticipating and cringing at the terrible American accents. There are a few genuine Americans in there but really, they couldn't dig up more real American actors in England, people who didn't ride their Rs so hard? I'm sure it's equally terrible listening to Americans to piss poor English accents, but yeesh, no thanks. It's very strange to listen to because while someone's pronunciation may be right on, there's usually something in the inflection that gives it away and makes me feel a bit unbalanced to listen.
-Also great rainy weather viewing: Spongebob Squarepants. I found a cache of SbSp DVDs in our collection and have been obsessively running them in the background while I fiddle around in the apartment. It's very hard to feel blue with that on, and I'm trying to be more Spongebob when I go to work in the morning, but end up more like Squidward.
