Note to Self Regarding Apartment Hunting

When you make an appointment to look at an apartment, you expect the landlord to be a little quirky. You won't blink if the person who answers the phone sounds like a former KGB agent and is named Vladimir. However, when Vladimir tells you that he may be late to meet you because he will be riding his bike, that might be a sign that this particular apartment is not for you. But you arrive anyway, after needing to get your car battery jumped in a Safeway parking lot. You are a serious applicant, mind you. But please, when you see that Vladimir is tall and lanky, with a porn star mustache and is wearing spandex bicycle shorts (complete with horrid bulge), and you are still across the street, TURN AROUND AND HEAD BACK TO THE CAR WITHOUT A WORD. He won't know it was you. And besides, you already left him a message that your car was in need of AAA assistance. It is your own damn fault if you greet him, and have to witness him dragging his bike into the building, and then view a disgusting apartment that hasn't even really been vacated yet, and get a single finger on your palm when you attempt to shake hands. As you are an advocate of a firm handshake, that last point alone would void any further interaction. So no whining to your friends and begging for sympathy. You had your chance, and you blew it.

My CDs are not coasters

But they keep disappearing like they are.
I can never keep track of my freaking music.
Are there CD-gnomes somewhere that love my eclectic selection?
I know I am the only one here who listens to this stuff,
so where in the blue blazes is it all??

You are so money and you don't even know it....

This is true.
I am money.
As in I consume it.
Much too fast.
I am not really conscious about how much everything costs.
Money makes me cranky.
Like tonight.
How come I am never able to budget anything?
Or is it simply because I am making crap wages?
Which leads me to ask:
How long will that continue?
Will I always be making just enough to keep our heads above water?
$$$ does not make you happy.
But not having $$$ definitely makes you unhappy.
So what is the "happy" medium?

Freedom Fries

The French Ambassador to the United States, Jean-David Levitte, is here in the museum. He is being given a private tour of the Van Gogh to Mondrian exhibit. I find this very exciting, especially since it is being done without a lot of fanfare or stress. I wonder if he would even be here if it weren't for Van Gogh. What does he think of Seattle? Why is he even up here in the Pacific Northwest anyway?

Beethoven's Immortal Beloved Letter

Earlier today I was thinking about what pieces I used to be able to play on the piano, in response to the main character in my best friend Jill's novel, who is a pianist. My favorite was "Moonlight Sonata", which was simple and yet soulful. This reminded me of the mystery surrounding Ludwig von Beethoven and the letters found after his death. My father told me the strange story of Beethoven's anonymous love when I was a little girl, and read me the letters out of a big blue book. Then there was a movie in 1994, I think, with Gary Oldman, which was a speculation about the possible identities of the woman who is never named. Was the movie any good? I don't remember. I do recall that the soundtrack was amazing (of course), and that I did enjoy the discussions that the movie prompted afterwards. I think I also went and found the big blue book, and spent several days copying down what I considered to be some of the most romantic letters I had ever read. So here are the letters.


IMMORTAL BELOVED


The First Letter
July 6, in the morning
My angel, my all, my very self - Only a few words today and at that with pencil (with yours) - Not till tomorrow will my lodgings be definitely determined upon - what a useless waste of time - Why this deep sorrow when necessity speaks - can our love endure except through sacrifices, through not demanding everything from one another; can you change the fact that you are not wholly mine, I not wholly thine - Oh God, look out into the beauties of nature and comfort your heart with that which must be - Love demands everything and that very justly - thus it is to me with you, and to your with me. But you forget so easily that I must live for me and for you; if we were wholly united you would feel the pain of it as little as I - My journey was a fearful one; I did not reach here until 4 o'clock yesterday morning. Lacking horses the post-coach chose another route, but what an awful one; at the stage before the last I was warned not to travel at night; I was made fearful of a forest, but that only made me the more eager - and I was wrong. The coach must needs break down on the wretched road, a bottomless mud road. Without such postilions as I had with me I should have remained stuck in the road. Esterhazy, traveling the usual road here, had the same fate with eight horses that I had with four - Yet I got some pleasure out of it, as I always do when I successfully overcome difficulties - Now a quick change to things internal from things external. We shall surely see each other soon; moreover, today I cannot share with you the thoughts I have had during these last few days touching my own life - If our hearts were always close together, I would have none of these. My heart is full of so many things to say to you - ah - there are moments when I feel that speech amounts to nothing at all - Cheer up - remain my true, my only treasure, my all as I am yours. The gods must send us the rest, what for us must and shall be -
Your faithful LUDWIG.


The Second Letter
Evening, Monday, July 6
You are suffering, my dearest creature - only now have I learned that letters must be posted very early in the morning on Mondays to Thursdays - the only days on which the mail-coach goes from here to K. - You are suffering - Ah, wherever I am, there you are also - I will arrange it with you and me that I can live with you. What a life!!! thus!!! without you - pursued by the goodness of mankind hither and thither - which I as little want to deserve as I deserve it - Humility of man towards man - it pains me - and when I consider myself in relation to the universe, what am I and what is He - whom we call the greatest - and yet - herein lies the divine in man - I weep when I reflect that you will probably not receive the first report from me until Saturday - Much as you love me - I love you more - But do not ever conceal yourself from me - good night - As I am taking the baths I must go to bed - Oh God - so near! so far! Is not our love truly a heavenly structure, and also as firm as the vault of heaven?


The Third Letter
Good morning, on July 7
Though still in bed, my thoughts go out to you, my Immortal Beloved, now and then joyfully, then sadly, waiting to learn whether or not fate will hear us - I can live only wholly with you or not at all - Yes, I am resolved to wander so long away from you until I can fly to your arms and say that I am really at home with you, and can send my soul enwrapped in you into the land of spirits - Yes, unhappily it must be so - You will be the more contained since you know my fidelity to you. No one else can ever possess my heart - never - never - Oh God, why must one be parted from one whom one so loves. And yet my life in V is now a wretched life - Your love makes me at once the happiest and the unhappiest of men - At my age I need a steady, quiet life - can that be so in our connection? My angel, I have just been told that the mailcoach goes every day - therefore I must close at once so that you may receive the letter at once - Be calm, only by a calm consideration of our existence can we achieve our purpose to live together - Be calm - love me - today - yesterday - what tearful longings for you - you - you - my life - my all - farewell. Oh continue to love me - never misjudge the most faithful heart of your beloved.
ever thine
ever mine
ever ours

2nd Poem for Ducky

Dear Ducky

Dear Ducky,
Salutations from Suffering Sara.
Happy Absence Anniversary!
Count the calendar:
eight endless years.
Dating death yet?
I fear future funerals,
so I munch on memories,
recalling roles,
missing magic.
What wretched words these are.
Requesting your return.
Sincerely, Sentimental Sara

Poem for Ducky

Desperately Seeking…

Lost: One best friend.
Name: Duk Sook, prefers “Ducky.”
Ran away 10 yrs ago, while I was @ camp.
No goodbyes had.
Remember when we were 5 & 1st met?
Or yrs later playing “dress-up” and stuffing our bras?
I’m sorry you grew up too fast,
& I, @ 15, couldn’t help you.
I still love you.
Wondering where you are keeps me up @ night,
Even after a decade.

Ash Wednesday Poem (several years old)

Ash Wednesday

Thursday
the first day of March
in the year of our Lord
two thousand and
—one—:
there are flowers here that
weren’t here the day before yesterday.
It’s the first day of Lent,
and the flowers have grown.
Something happened yesterday.
It was Wednesday.
Ash Wednesday.
The day of the earthquake.
These flowers weren’t here on Tuesday.
They were pushed out of the ground early:
expelled by jolts,
waves of agony:
here purple crocuses
butter daffodils
tiny violets
blinking in the weak sunlight.
Trees, too
soft pink blooms stretching
as if shaken from slumber.
First day of spring
overnight
no dress rehearsal
just cold script reading.
Spring on the way
summer soon after.
Who forced the shake?
Who was anxious for flowers?

You can Dere-lick my balls. 

People always tell me they admire my enthusiasm... 

I love nature. And being on Frat Row. And getting my picture taken. 

My two favorite boys, BooBoo and Matt! 

No spinach needed. 

Those Shea kids can dance! 

Timothy Magnus, my awesome younger brother, and me at the Ballard Locks in April 2004--his first visit up here since joining the Army Rangers 

Me writing in New Orleans 


I don't know if I have quite figured out this whole picture thing yet. I suppose that this worked...

Lying in order to see Art: Specifically Van Gogh

So I work in a museum.
The Seattle Art Museum.
I love it.
My co-workers are awesome.
My bosses (plural) are also pretty nifty.
Previously, SAM wasn't exactly what I would call...um, world-class.
But currently we have an exhibit visiting from the Kroller-Muller Museum in the Netherlands: "Van Gogh to Mondrian." We are one of only two museums in the U.S. who get this exhibit, the other being the High Museum in Atlanta. Kroller-Muller (sorry for the lack of relevant punctuation) is a museum created from the private collection of Helene Kroller-Muller, who had the largest private collection of Vincent Van Gogh's work in the entire world. Apparently she managed to get upwards of 80+ of his drawings at one time. Cool stuff. And the main reason I am working here, as Van Gogh is my favoritest. I've travelled far to see his work: Boston, Los Angeles, Paris...Lots of other people are very excited to actually have something of this magnitude in Seattle. Which is fine. However, here at the membership desk, I am running into a lot of people who will seemingly say ANYTHING in order to try and get in for free. Is this because they are poor, and the prices ($15) are too high, and they really just want to appreciate art? Or is it because they don't care that they are LYING, and would do the same thing in order to see ANYTHING for free?! AUGH! I really shouldn't even attempt to go into the bullshit that I am submitted to. Let's just say that I know our admissions/membership policy up and down. And the people who try to give me a line are usually our very own museum members! Who are already getting in free! And somehow they think that anybody they happen to be associated with ALSO gets in free. And my thought is, we need people to buy memberships and tickets in order to keep the museum going. That is why these people bought these memberships in the first place. Do they really want to deny the museum much needed revenue?! I don't understand the evil intentions of the public. It really chaps my hide. I would never even conceive of doing this type of thing myself.

Friday = Movie Releases

Today more than ever I am shocked by what is coming to a theater near you. And on top of that, there is a gaping, obvious contrast between two releases in particular today. Yes, you guessed correctly: Fahrenheit 9/11 and White Chicks. Now, it's not necessarily that Michael Moore is infallible and comparing anything to his work is going to invariably make him shine with a holy light or anything like that. It's mostly that the new Wayans movie is so god-awful that anything in it's proximity looks like a cinematic masterpiece. Have I seen either flick? Um, no. Not yet. Well, for the Wayans, probably never. Ever. Unless I secretly rent it once it comes out on video. But I would never ever admit to it. Or ever ever enjoy it. EVER. So why am I bitching? The first time I saw a preview for White Chicks I was horrified. I remember turning to Matt and just letting my jaw drop. I was embarrassed for Marlon and Shawn--the thought that they ACTUALLY considered doing a picture like this...The next time I saw the preview, the audience was laughing and hooting...with excitement. I still felt sick to my stomach looking at the Mrs. Doubtfire get-up--but I will take hairy crazy Robin Williams in a fat suit anyday over those disgusting, pasty, monstrosities. Has anybody who's interested in this movie actually taken the time to LOOK at the creepy makeup job? Yes, CREEPY. These two beautiful men look like evil Barbie doll rejects. Or evil robots. With evil evil skin and lips and eyes. Makes me cringe. Yuck Yuck Yuck! So compare that to Fahrenheit 9/11, which is a documentary about stuff that George Bush and the nation did after the WTC tragedy. There is no comparison. It's gross. Now, it's a well known fact that I will do a jig of joy when Bush is finally gone from D.C. But I promise you that I am not biased. Nope, not at all. I really am freaked out by this White Chicks movie. It's like Soul Man in reverse. Blah.

SKOOL

Just got the good word that I have been readmitted to Seattle University. WHOOHOO! I don't know why I was stressed out that they might not take me back--after all, my GPA is almost flawless. But it was a concern nonetheless. I am looking forward to being a student again, even though I'm not sure what it will be like to return even OLDER than I already was. And will I be able to concentrate even? Well, I have to. There is no alternative. I just need to get my undergrad degree so I can move on with my life. Focus on writing, and loving, and just living each and every day. Have to come back to this later...

I'm Frightened...

...Of really actually doing this.
Let's see if this works.
It may be a complete disaster.
I am a big pussy about trying new things.
I would like to be able to think of myself as "spontaneous" and "unpredictable", but sadly that's not really the case.
I am such an stubborn old lady sometimes, which is bizarre, as I feel like a complete child in relation to the world.
Why am I doing this?
Well, I am at work at the Seattle Art Museum right now.
It is very slow.
I get to play online when it's slow.
Which is a lot.
So this is something new to distract myself with.
Because that way I won't check my email 500 times every half an hour.
Maybe.
I am actually surprised how easy this is.
Perhaps this is just because I am a more accomplished typist.
And I am enjoying this...
...Because isn't this every writer's dream?
To see their writing in print in public?
But I don't want to focus on that aspect.
I am doing this because it really is just the act of writing that I am interested in.
Okay, but really, yes, I need to break the monotony of my job.
Which I love.
Because we have some Van Gogh!
Which I haven't even been upstairs to see yet. :(
But I will!
I swear!
I promise!
But I figure I have three months, so...
Let us see how this turns out.
Like I said, I am scared and excited.
I'm covering my eyes with my hands.
I'm not looking, I'm not peeking...