Fourth of July shout out

To me, the 4^th was never really about the independence of this baby country, of which I still flirt with the ex-pat aspect, but more so, it’s about friends and family. My mom and the sister-that-I-never-had-but-adopted-through-the-neighborhood half Chinese-American girl across the street’s bday. Yes, I am blessed with the fact that me-being utterly horrid with remembering not only important dates, like marriage anniversaries, birthdays and the all important person's name-has the very fortunate reminder of our nation’s birth into independence as a reminder to the annual telephone salutation of celebrations for growing older.

So to Mei Li and my mother-Happy Birthday.

What else do I do on this holiday? Well, I drink. Mimosa’s in fact. While I am pleasantly stuffed with a well prepared vegetarian brunch for the housemates (by yours truly, thank you very much) and, um, *counts fingers* 1, 2, 3…4 bottles worth of champagne drank before 4pm…I am not only making those said bday calls, I am also reflecting on another family relationship…that of my brother’s and mine.

We may have had a tumultuous relationship growing up, that of a 6year age difference, with the fact that I once may have destroyed his first addition Millennium Falcon toy…or constantly intruded on the privacy of the inner sanctum of his bedroom…or the fact that I may have destroyed one or two of his first addition G.I. Joe action figures with the kung fu grip…How am I still alive you may ask, not suffocated by the mere two hands of my bro? Well, A. a 6’4” anger induced father and B. the brother taking his frustrations out in the form of violent “play” against said younger sister. Trust me, my brother got his revenge one way or another.

But past aside, I have grown to respect my brother’s intelligence, not only being the brain of the family but also the rock of my family togetherness with him later in life, as a great source of opinion and guidance. He recently graduated college, of which I am in awe and greatly proud…and thusly, I have entrusted him with documenting my artwork for “hopeful”(because I don’t think it’s worth selling) future sales and a chance to possibly build a creative name for myself. I know he will give the most straightforward opinion null of fluff, not only of my pieces but also of my future. Frankly, he is the only one allowed to get away with telling me “her face is not proportionate” or “her ear is too low”.

Thank you brother,

For your strides in life are great and your intelligence grows deep

You have provided me the best family love to keep

(me and said brothar)

2009 Acid Reflux

I frequently ramble like a raving lunatic inside my head but getting me to sit down and make sense of these rambles on paper is something of a different monster. I often come up with my most in depth insights in the car, drifting off to sleep or other inopportune places that don't allow for me to transcribe them. I get distracted easily and then my best thought golden nuggets of wisdom that even Ghandi would be proud of, are flushed down to mediocrity. I've thought about using the voice recorder on my iPhone, but frankly the sound of my own voice is worse than Sarah Palin's values.(granted, I used said iPhone for my presentation for school; it's tits-like hand tossed warm ooey gooey slice of pizza at two am to soak up your functioning alcoholism)

As I sit here and map out the game plan for 2010, I've been reflecting on the past malay of activities of 2009...

The new year started with a shadow of my grandfather's death in December of 08 and some healing after an old relationship. Nevertheless, I had hopes for a new year of accomplishments, taking my heart into my own hands and obtaining a love beyond my expectations. Also to just fucking live without regrets; roll with the punches; learn; stop being scared.

One day as I sat at the desk of my droll job, I decided enough was enough. Why waste my days falling asleep at my desk, counting the minutes and my splits ends, until my favorite chat buddy hopped online to help me past the day. Fuck this shit, I'm going to do something with myself. Thus, after 14 years, I decided to finally go to college. The decision was made towards the beginning of the year and after that, it was a landslide of speeding proportion and I started in the summer. Along with that decision came the fact that I would be leaving my beloved Seattle for a new adventure of San Francisco; another city I adore.

Unfortunately in April, I received a phone call while I sat in my car in a grocery store parking lot. Unsettling news delivered from my brother as I discovered my uncle was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. My body let loose and I balled. You think about all things with an ending when faced with death, even if not your own. The fact that, yes, life is far too fucking short and 'what the hell have I been wasting my life on?'. I decided to vacate the Emerald Isle much sooner than anticipated. I made it back to my hometown in the beginning of June to a once burly looking dude, who had now become a delicate man who exclaimed "I'm gonna beat this shit". He passed a few weeks later... luckily I had those precious few weeks with him. Steve was a good man, a gnarly looking biker dude, with a long ponytail as well as beard entangled with greys but true to his heart in protecting his kin...My mother lost one of her good friends in her brother that day.

I only planned on being south for a few months but unfortunately funding for school was scarce and my presence was apparently an aid in my mother's sanity as she begun to take care of her third family member to their death...her mother. knowing that my mother has gone from caring for her aunt after a stroke, her father, her brother-to death and now her mother...its not to hard to see why I would hang around more. Granted, the washing of dishes, household chores and sometimes yard work doesn't seem like much but I do what I can.

You may think to yourself "this could be a fun situation to fuck around with someone who has Alzheimer's". Like: "hey gran, over there. No not me, no, the other me. remember?" She however, is not a fun and wacky victim of the mind loss...she's a viper. Nevertheless, you try to deal, cope, dig deep for the patience to not bitch slap a frail old woman who accuses you of all the missing and wrong doings things around her.

some excerpts:
Imagine if you will a shrunken 80 year old woman, cane in one hand, two fingers lifted in a gun gesture with the other, telling you "you can wipe with your own fingers for all i care!"; in response to the usage of the toilet paper.

(father and I drew this in our frustrations. Yes, I'm sure we'll burn in Hell...if Hell existed)

or
"does all she do is wash the dishes and put them in the rack? that's it?!". Why no gran, I also fart platinum unicorn dust on them, which magically makes all your food taste better.

Please excuse the bald spot on my head. While you're at it, ignore the wad of my hair in my fist too. After the anger subsides, all I can do is laugh it off and try to make the best. Bottom line, losing your mind has got to be a frustrating and extremely scary situation to deal with. Sad.

As for me, I continue with my head down and power forward. It would seem this vagabond life is taking its toll on my back...the couch and floor surfing and the stress of being around an unhappy family can put one's mindset into a dark place; dour; moody. Seattle calls to me as does San Francisco...I love them both. Southern California is a bad break up gone awry; I need to flee again...but I must be patient...must; my time is nearing with the turn of the new day/year/decade. Fuck this struggling.

However, I did indeed find an amazing person who stole my heart...through ups and downs; fights and flights; he's been an amazing presence and ear to my plight. I am happy to finally be in school. So it wasn't a total negative year...it just had some MAJOR speed bumps.

So this year I'm not doing resolutions because I know what needs to be done: school, move, get my own space again to freely walk around nude eating some Hagan Daas with a beer chaser...and a bed, sweet glorious naked Matthew Goode-give me a bed again...I'm going to focus on what I want to do: travel more, do more art and kiss the man of my heart's desire

To my circumstances and mindset, I dedicate Celebration's "Holiday"...it's kind of speaking my words in a song...

"These days are dark.
I lack the spark, to shine, to find my mind baby,
and I'm too sharp, to play the part for you.
For you... where do all my rubies shine?
I paid the devil to lose my mind.
And these days, these days are black as coal.
I imagine my lost soul...
away on some paid holiday.
Ahh, it's ok if it's not far away, away
Babe, what happens to us now?
I lost my will to shout, to dig my body out.
For this loss, Oh lord i paid the cost...
and for this pain, my gentle soul remains away on some paid holiday.
Ahh, it's ok if it's not far away, away.
Time beats so slow... these days are dark.
And I'm too sharp to play the part for you...
for you... where do all my rubies shine?
I paid the devil to lose my mind.
And these days are black as coal.
I imagine my lost soul away on some paid holiday.
Ahh, it's ok if it's not far away, away.
I know there is one way, to bring it on down now.
Here we are.
No matter where we start, I'll always be apart from my unbroken heart,
and so you keep me close, what matters to you most is that I'll stay.
Bring it on down now.
Where do all my rubies shine?"

OMFG-there's a kid on your leg!

So I’m an auntie….it’s true. My brother, who like me, was very adamant about disliking the parasite nation of children much like myself, decided a handful of years ago to feel his mortality. I know, I know, but it’s true. So here we are, 5 years later, and I am a very proud auntie of a 5year-old-something nephew. Yes. I am Auntie M. As a very proud auntie, I support my blood by going to his functions; more specifically…his first on-stage-mortifying-force-you-to-participate-class-function sing along ‘Jingle Bells’ bullshit. He is adorable, truth. I babysit my uber smart nephew once a week...but in all reality, I think my brother does it in hopes of me disliking the parasite nation a little less…

So me, loving my nephew, must attend my beloved blood rite’s first public humiliation situation…a Christmas sing song something or other. I must admit (between you and me) that shit was fucking adorable. It slightly pulled at my uterus strings. TRUTH. Shhh, it’s a secret (since I’m really not in the mood for kids any time soon). A bunch of kindergarten and first graders singing some festive song…my nephew not really caring; just wishing the shit was over-I could totally see it in his eyes. He was me at that age. My brother has been blessed with a child, that in essence, got me as a child; poor bastard-BUT-but...the minute that kid comes up to me and latches onto my leg, I gotta admit…

I LOVE being an auntie.

(look for the translucent child that glows in the dark. That's my fam)

(best looking kid in the whole world. don't trip, you know its truth)

ahhhh the lazy life

Where have you been? I’ve been fighting the good fight in a galaxy far far away along side other Jedi Masters….ok, so I’ve been, a straight up now tell me, asshole for not writing in two months; but ya know, work and stress and life and blah blah blah, shut the fuck up Mel. Yeah, I know, lame; but honest and for-truly, I’ve got like 4 entries I’m preparing dear readers…all 3 of you.

So while I search the words to paint a visual picture of the following bands: Cold War Kids, We Are Scientists, Kings of Leon and NKOTB-that’s right-NEW KIDS ON THE MUTHA FUCKIN BLOCK BEYOTCHES-DON’T TRIP; I thought I would wax a bit on my history with music and why exactly it moves me the way it does.

So a long long time ago…in the early 80’s I was knee high to me da’s knee; and when I wasn’t grabbing his beers for sips, I was either signing along to he and his buddies ‘jamming’ or somewhere very near by listening. They played covers, mostly I believe, and I say this because I don’t rightfully recall them playing original music. At any rate, due to the cover-nisity (fuck yes, I make up words like forshizzle) of it all, I became quite fond of the classics like: The Beatles, Zep, Mac, Fucking Eagles, and many many others.

I was such a ham that I would dig into those plastic little saucers called, say it with me history class- “albums”, and play things like Pointer Sisters and B52s while dancing around pretending I was either a soulful afro’d black woman or a red headed maven with a bee hive; and yes, I would “perform” for audiences of furniture or Bryer horses when my parents had no time for me.

I use to know how to read music; built chops to play clarinet…John Lennon’s “Imagine” was my first song learned on the piano…so too was Beatles learnt on the guitar. But fuck all if I don’t remember how to do any of that shit now.

At any rate, growing up in a house where the men; pops and bro, would play guitar and me and moms would hum along, gave me an appreciation for the craft. I associate, as most do, music with moods, moments, feelings and situations; thus the stuff moves me, saddens me, lifts me up, or helps me be bitter road ragger on the highways of So Cal.

so just a little tid bit of myself and my history...a real tiny tid bit, because this well runs deep-so deep it'll put your butt to sleep

Gotta love the 80's or 70's, who know. rad Pampers though

Adventures in Ma, part II

so as I stated, 3am as I write this. It's late/early and I may or may not be a little intoxicated. Me Ma is currently passed out in my bed after I introduced her to a few of my favorite bartenders...

and the Viking

she got lit, it was funny. She made so many friends, bought me drinks and tried to distract me with her 'mature' clevage while we played shuffle board(ok that last part, so NOT funny. Nobody wants to see that shit mom, pull you straps back up and stop telling peeps you're wearing my bra; k?) I'm not quite sure how many drinks were consumed, considering we started at 3pm at Nickerson Saloon-in the sun on the patio...dinner with wine and more drinks, then to Twist to visit a friend, who kept feeding us drinks. To the Viking; where the following happened: her being drunk. Her making many 'new' friends. Me flipping her off from across the bar, as I had now become lit. Her mouthing off. Me putting her in a head lock and restraining her free arms. Her biting...BITING my fucking tits in order to break free. Thankfully the bar wasn't too full, as I'm positive we looked like complete assholes.

(and trust me when I say, I'm leaving some of the finer details out)

Later, we roamed Ballard Market, and I got to be her balance support so she wouldn't fall flat on her face in the store. Even more later...she ran into a car walking back to my pad and knocked the mirror outta whack. I put her ass promtly to bed...and I sit here and write.

What does this entry have to do with music? Well, we were rolling around tonight listening to Bloc Party, good shit. I have heard them before on KEXP, but I didn't give them much thought until my radio station on Pandora.com kept playing them for me. I keep discovering great bands and I feel like I've got Seattle, KEXP and new friends to thank for that. Without music, I'd have no soundtrack to my life...and that would be rather dull.