Don't you wish you could be in your bathrobe at noon?

This morning, the brand new used coffee maker I bought yesterday at Goodwill kicked off at 7am. T’s alarm started going off soon after, every five minutes. At 9am, the jackhammer started. I think the universe was trying to tell me something.

Yesterday I spent all day feeling guilty that I wasn’t doing what I was supposed to be doing. I’m not good at getting things done when I don’t have that much to do and I’m working with vague deadlines. I need pressure, a deadline, fear of God or something like that to get things done.

I ended up torturing myself most of the day until the afternoon, when I said to myself. Self, if you’re not going to do it, just don’t do it. Why do you gotta be a martyr about it? Why don’t you just do whatever you want all the time?

Whatever I want all the time is my prime motivation in life. When I grow up, I want to be able to do that. Flow easily through most things, have sparkles come out of my fingertips and leave a trail of pretty flowers and magic blooming in my wake, like in Fern Gully when the forest starts healing itself or some shit.

I think the only thing that’s really blocking me is my thoughts. My thoughts tell me I have to be really awesome and amazing and smart and beautiful to do anything. It says I can’t to anything I want until I do all the things I have to do, like becoming really awesome and amazing and smart and beautiful.

But I have found a solution! Shut those thoughts down! Just stop thinking them. Just think… I’m thinking evil thoughts.. don’t think about that anymore! Think about what’s for dinner and what delicious cocktails you will make and listen to some music and dance around.

Yesterday, after I killed those thoughts, I went to the farmer’s market, got a coffee maker, found some cheese, made some delicious dinner that was lit by candlelight, made some muffins, and listened to music. It was fuckin’ bad ass. Life is more fun if you’re not berating yourself in your head and feeling guilty all the time.

And I’m starting to realize that if I just shut up those thoughts in my head pressuring me to be really cool and awesome (and successful and rich and popular), I can finally have the breathing room to be really cool and awesome, because that’s what I am naturally. COOL AND AWESOME. And hot. Yeah.

Also, I’m starting a salon (not like hair, like intellectuals and booze), because I want to feel like I’m in France all the time. ALL THE TIME. If you miss living in Europe you may know what I’m talking about: late nights, consuming things that are bad for you, long walks, and philosophical conversations over 3-6 hour drinking and eating sessions. It’s going to be fun and you wish you could be part of it.

I have been away for so long because first I was frantically looking for apartments and despairing and then everything was changing and I moved!! I have a super sweet pad now with a big kitchen made for people coming over and me feeding them, because it’s what I love to do. So come over and get fed!!

Moving is a bitch. I’m all, why do I have all this shit? I never use it but I keep it because when I get famous it will be worth a fortune. Like every single thing I made in college. All my fave books that I’ve already read and will never read again. There are things I’ve hauled all over this damn country that I’m now like “TOSS!!”.

And no, that picture above is not some new band I have formed. I have this special wine box full of letters and things that was pretty out of cont. I went through it yesterday and found an early love note from my first ever BF. That’s the side without the letter. Oh yeah, we were bad ass punks. Note the awkward 13-year-old whatdoisay theme, and subtle undertones of sweet adoration:

Hi.
I’m on the phone with you now. We’re not saying anything, but I don’t care. I thought I should write something with this, but! I don’t have anything to say. So in this package is:
- a “Book!”
- a “CD!”
- this “Note!”

I hate writing with a pen(cil). Prolly because I can’t do it. I’m almost tempted 2 rite like this bcuz it is ez but I am resisting. I am not looking forward to writing next year. I’m taking my time writing this so imagine my note-taking.

Aaah! I’m flipping TV channels, and on some shitty gameshow, the female contestant was named “Ketchup.” How sick is that? Adam’s middle name is Hilton. I wonder if that’s where he was conceived. I think he should have his whole family’s middle names after the hotels that they were conceived in. But then like, they’d run out of respectable-sounding hotels and it’d be like “Steve Holiday Inn Shaw” or “Alan 7 Buck Motel Shaw.” Yah.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Overbooking of Flights
Airline flights may be overbooked and there is a slight chance that a seat will not be available on a flight or confirmed reservation. If the flight is overbooked, no one will be denied a seat until the personnell ask for colunteers willing to give up their reservation. If there are not enough volunteers, the airline will deny boarding to other persons in accordance with the airline policy. Persons denied boarding involuntarily are generally entitled to compensation. The complete rules of compensation are abailable at all airport ticket counters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am out of space.
I love you.
M

Like, for serious, I couldn’t make this shit up. This letter is exactly how this guy was, too. Awkward, random, but really sweet and well-meaning underneath it all. The mixtape that came with that package was the best one I ever got. I wish I knew where it was. I got it when I was 13 or 14 and 11-12 years later one of the songs on it is still my favorite. I still try to replay it in my head, the whole mixtape. It had good transitions and soundbites and everything.

Reading through these old letters makes me appreciate how many wonderful, sweet, loving people I’ve had in my life so far. I’ve been so lucky.

On that note… my social life has been on hiatus for too long. Call me up, stop by, and I’ll make you pie.

I am on a hiatus between work assignments and I feel like I’m dreaming, or waking up, or something. There’s nothing to do. Well, actually there are tons of things I should be doing, but I’m letting myself float in the “do what you would like to within reason” land, which means that mostly I sleep, or clean, or paint, or watch really bad movies with Sally Field in them.

I feel like I keep waiting to be able to do the things I really want. I’m not exactly sure what those things really are, but this is what I’m waiting for:

Cook good food in my new kitchen.

Make fun friends and invite them to dinner parties in my new place.

Eat healthy, get new clothes.

Have a routine in which I get to do fun creative projects.

Have my own space.

The last is the one that all the others stem from. I can never really feel like I’m being myself lately… I miss having good friends around me. I miss the time when anything we did was an adventure. Life seems so lame now, and maybe it’s because I’m jaded, or maybe it’s because I’m just not in college anymore, but nothing seems exciting. I don’t feel cool. Sometimes I think J took my mojo with him when he went to Tokyo.

Sidenote: Why do hot, well dressed people always seem like they are having more fun than I am?

Nothing is new, everyone’s a poser, this American culture bites and squashes all attempts at creativity. Everyone is too hipster or too lame. Can’t make any friends. It’s probably my bad outlook that is making me think this way, but it would be so nice to just be able to relax.. stop having to work so hard to prove to myself that I’m not wasting away my youth.

I mean, I’m too old to even be a pornstar… my fallback career. Now what am I going to do when I’m really broke and have no hope? I’ll have to be a madam and squeeze my living out of the blood of younger, more beautiful ladies.

Sometimes I try to think of it long term… I haven’t even thought of most of the really amazing things I will do in my life! But I also feel my reserve start to crumble… I’m starting to understand more and more everyday why people take the corporate route with the big paychecks and the fancy weddings. Get married, have kids, buy a house… sometimes it sounds like stability, more manageable then a roller coaster life where you have no idea what will happen in another year. Right now I’m just disappointed that life isn’t always new shoes and new cities, new adventures and late nights on public transit. I want to start a bike gang, befriend a group of radical lesbians who throw the best impromptu dance parties, and are building a ropes course in the empty lot next door.

I bet it’s the internet… all that stimulus and now I’m trained life to go faster, present me with more content and information every step of the way. Connect me to hundreds of my friends every moment. I find myself staring at the screen waiting for someone to start talking to me. Waiting for my life to come to me instead of trying to make it on my own.

I know it’s just me, and I’m hoping to get out of it soon, but now that I have a few moments to relax, I can’t help wonder… why is everything so lame? But soon, we will have our own place… we will cook dinner, and if it kills me, I will have a dinner party and it will be fun, dammit.

The story I tell everyone about being in tune with the universe goes like this:

In college, there was this great table in the dining hall. It was a booth, the only booth in the whole hall, in this little recessed area with stained glass windows on three sides extending up to the something like 40ft tall ceilings. It was the best. You could fit 8 people at it, and it was my favorite place to sit.

Senior year, fall came around and for a good 2 months, every time I came to a meal the booth was open. It was a lucky streak, and it made me feel like someone had sprinkled me with fairy dust or something… Maybe the booth was tapped and it was always open because they were investigating me and my friends, but I felt like I was at one with the universe. I was doing something right, like when you bowl a bunch of strikes in a row, and I didn’t question it because I didn’t want to ruin it somehow.

Sometimes this happens. You are in the right place at the right time and all the pieces just fall into place and you feel like you must be cautious about everything because if you breathe too hard it might disrupt the flow.

My job is ending soon and lately I’ve been on the brink of worrying about what will happen next. Not really worrying for more than a minute or two, but very aware that there is room for catastrophe if things don’t go my way. But today I’m feeling good, because it seems like the universe has my back.

Exhibit A: When I got to the bus stop, it told me the bus was coming in 8 minutes, which gave me some time to go get lunch to take with me!

Exhibit B: After I got my sandwich, I noticed a valid transfer sticking out from the frame of the poster in the bus shelter, almost like someone had left it just for me. Saved $2!

Exhibit C: After reading my book all the way there are not wanting to put it down, my workday got reconfigured and I didn’t have to be where I was and turned back to go home!

Exhibit D: When I got to the bus stop to go home, someone passed by and gave me ANOTHER valid transfer for my return trip.

Exhibit E: After reading my really good book on the bus for 2 hours, I got home and had an email from a friend offering me free tix for me and a guest to the entire Andy Warhol Retrospective this weekend at the Frameline Film Festival.

Exhibit F: Got notified about a meeting Friday for an additional assistantship for one day a week, ongoing. My temp job with the Census will be ending soon, and I was wondering about work in combination with my upcoming move.

Exhibit G + H: I needed some new clothes and kitchen stuff for our future place.. and one of my BFFs is moving and offered me all the kitchen stuff she doesn’t need!

Now all I need is an awesome new place to live, and a little more work. Need an assistant? Some graphic design? Some advice on bringing your business online? Social Media? Networking? Want to buy a painting?

T always says the universe provides, you just got to decide on something and ask for it. Now that we’re staying in San Francisco for a while, I can feel the universe tuning into what I’m asking for and trying to get it to me.

It’s nice to be in a place of less struggle, more flow. Hustle and Flow, people! Hustle and flow.

On Saturday T and I went to check out the SF Fine Art Fair, that was apparently a big deal because we don’t really have international art fairs in San Francisco. It was lame. It’s like when someone buys you an art magazine and you’re really excited until you find out it’s Art News, which is basically “Couch Art in America.” 99% of everything are paintings that people buy to go with their furniture.

My favorite piece, the one that showed the most creativity and inventiveness and awesome use of materials was “Milky Way” by local artist Renee Gertler. Here’s a picture of it:

(photo credit: Eleanor Harwood Gallery)

It’s hard to see, but the insides of the paper bags are painted midnight blue, and there are mirrors inside the bags on the bottom. The top of the bags are little pinpricks, and the mirrors reflect the light that comes in through the top of the bag from the room. The effect is an entire “Milky Way” on view inside the bags.

It’s really awesome, like these bags are a portal into this amazing other place.

The fair made me inspired to paint more, but only because I felt I could do as well or even better than most of the things I saw. T felt the same way, and now he’s super into painting.

On Saturday we went to Dolores Park and we ripped open a paper bag and lolled about on the grass fingerpainting. Then he continued as I pretended to read my book and really listened to the people around us gossip and complain as they got progressively more stoned and drunk. T started painting with blades of grass.

Our ladylady/friend-whose-basement-we-live-in is going to Paris for a year and we are looking for a new place.

It is very frustrating because we really want to live in all the big converted warehouses with tall ceilings and cool windows and open floor plans that are so big you could do double dutch jumprope in them, but they are either too expensive or in East Oakland. And while I don’t mind living in semi-bad neighborhoods, I don’t know if East Oakland would be fun to live in. I don’t necessarily want to be nervous walking around my neighborhood, or worrying that T will never come back if he goes out to buy cigarettes. I wish I had an expert person who knew all the okay places to live and the icky places to live so I could just ask him.

Also, I keep thinking that maybe if I move there and lock in my cheap rent, the whole place will gentrify really quickly and then I’ll live in a bad ass neighborhood where I won’t get shot. Then I think that is such an elitist privileged thing to say and gentrification is bad!! And then I try and think if East Oakland is like moving to the Mission before all the hipsters and yuppies and maybe I’m missing out on being really cool and tough and avant-garde. But then I think I’d rather be alive than avant-garde and start looking for something in Emeryville, which has an IKEA so it must be safe, right? Also, swedish meatballs.

Even when I do find good places on craigslist, I can’t bring myself to call them because it’s scary and I’m not exactly sure how I’m going to pay rent once my temporary job is over. But I have an optimistic feeling that it will work out somehow.

I also wish I could combine the cheap rent and space of East Oakland with San Francisco location and make it all hot like LA so that I live in this awesome place that is spacious and has a garden, but also cheap and in an old dairy or firehouse but I don’t need a car. Also, I wish all my friends would move there. I would be so happy in this imaginary place. Also, I’d have the best job ever. I’m not sure what it would be, but it would probably involve me hanging out and throwing events for my friends and becoming brilliant and then famous and being the coolest person in the world, which I am already, I just have to find the right place.

I am going to ask Renee Gertler how she became so cool and creative to have shows and think of things like the “Milky Way” and maybe I will become cool too. And then maybe she will agree to be interviewed and then I’ll post it and you can be cool too.

See? I am contributing so much to society already!

I am sitting in bed and eating ice cream that makes me teeth hurt. Last night I saw Charlene Yi perform. She’s a young comic/musician/performer who wrote Paper Heart, a sweet fictional documentary about whether love exists. She dropped out of school and lived in her car to get to LA and follow her dream. Her work is funny and honest and seems to come from her gooey chocolatey center.

Lately I’ve been thinking about what it is I want to do. A lot of the time I think about what I don’t want to do, or what’s stopping me from doing what I want, or how I can’t do anything and have no talent or passion, or how the whole world is fucked up and I just want to run away and live in a cave and eat berries like the guy in the book Hatchet I read when I was 10.

Some people make Bucket Lists of things they want to do before they die. Some people have lofty goals and ambitions that motivates them to do things like go to Law School, or climb a ladder of business hierarchy, or work 12 hours a day making food for people for very little money.

I don’t know what it is I want to do. When I was a kid I had these vague ideas of travel and adventure, being a poor hobo and relying on the kindness of strangers to get me where I need to be, and letting life carry me through good times in bad.

I haven’t gone for this lifestyle because it’s full of worried relatives and sketchy situations and being homeless and not getting what I need to eat, poop, and sleep safely. It’s not ambitious enough in the “I’m gonna be somebody” kind of sense, and there is no end goal except for exploring and seeing what is out there for me to see. I don’t know when a trip like this will end, or what I should do when I’m done. I always thought something would just happen.

The other thing, is money. I don’t want to have to rely on people for money, but I don’t want to work 40 hours a week for a paycheck, either. I wish I didn’t have to have money to live. Right now I’ve been working a lot at a temporary job where I get paid $23.50 an hour, but I’m always disappointed. I calculate pay during work and then am horrified when $200 gets deducted each week for taxes. When I didn’t have a job a month ago, I was always worried, but it seemed like I went out to eat a lot more, made more art, read more books, and wasn’t so angry. I seem to have a very short fuse and money lights it all the time.

The thing about this vague traveling trip I keep/kept thinking about what this: I don’t have any other plans. I seriously don’t think I ever imagined myself as old as I am now, and my plans were never definite enough to seem like something I should actually make a plan to do.

So I’m trying to make a list of things that I would like to do. People always say we never make time to just do the things that mean so much to us because we’re too busy with jobs and kids and things. Well, my job is temporary, and I’m not very fond of money and I don’t want kids until I’m done fooling around, so I thought I might as well make a list of things that I want to have happen at some point in my life and then just go from there. I hope I can think of something. I hope they aren’t impossible.

1. Have a studio that is all mine.

I want a place to go with big windows and tall ceilings that is my place. I want to be able to go there and be alone and work or dance or sing or record things or draw or paint of make prints. I want a big counter with a sink and an electric kettle and a hot plate and a refrigerator and I want to be the only one with a key. I like company, but this is a place I can go if I want to be completely alone. I work best when I’m completely alone and I never quite feel like that. Sometimes I would like a whole week of just being alone so I could get into it and get the voices out of my head. I want time to do whatever I want and I want to take all the pressure off of myself so that I don’t have to worry about how what I will do will impress people or how it will effect my future. And I don’t want this to be in a place where I am scared of getting shot walking out of my building, but I don’t want this place to be in the middle of nowhere either.

2. I want to work part time at a mindless job.

When I was in Seattle I worked at this frame shop/gift shop. I worked from 11-5pm four days a week, I got foodstamps, my work was two blocks away, and mostly I put price tags on things, made stuff pretty, and kept it all dust-free. It left me a lot of brain space to thing about things like what I was going to do or make outside of it. Sometimes I wish I had never left Seattle. The weather was bad, but that’s all I can think of that was bad. My best friend and I had our own radio show, I lived in an awesome house, I met really cool people who were doing amazing things, and I got to go see live music and eat for practically nothing all the time. I couldn’t afford cheese or meat or wine, but I was really healthy and cooked all my meals from scratch and spent like $100 on groceries for two people every month. I want to live somewhere where that’s possible. I’m tired of being cramped into one room. But I can’t think of anywhere I want to move either, not even Seattle. I like the sun too much.

3. I want summer in the country.

Freshwater creeks to live in, gardening to do, bonfires, learning to play an instrument. I want to do all these things. I was thinking about the ukulele or maybe making stuff electronically. But I want to make songs and sing them at night on the back porch after a day of baking chocolate cake and swimming and drinking minted lemonade.

So those are three things for now. Maybe I’ll think of some other things later. I wonder if the place in my head that I want to exist is real or if it’s just the amalgam of everything I like about all the places I’ve been so far. Either way, I feel compelled to travel until I find it.

The mind is a funny thing. Truth is perception. What you see and hear and experience becomes your reality. The people you talk to, the books you read, the art you look at, the schools you go to all contribute to what you experience as your reality. When you decide to believe something, it becomes true. Sometimes we don’t know that we have made that decision. Putting yourself in new situations often challenges what you have accepted as your reality, and makes you reconsider your ideas and beliefs.

So I think if it’s so easy to chance your perspective, why not just do it yourself? Sometimes there are thought patterns you keep going after, and they can shape who you are and who you become. I’m looking to make some new thought patterns today.

My name is Ari and I am a 25 year old emerging artist. I am very creative, curious, and open minded. I love to meet new people and find out who they are inside. I can make pretty much everyone feel comfortable. I love feeding people and hosting them and making them feel all warm and gooshy inside. I like things that are old and worn, like buildings or books or furniture or metal. I like to cook and bake and I am very good at it.

I have amazing taste. I have the uncanny ability to find good, cheap restaurants and find really good music. I often find that something I was into a year or two ago has become amazingly popular. I am a good writer. I am versatile and creative and can write something for any occasion. I could be an amazing DJ. I always look effortlessly beautiful, whether I’m in ratty clothes full of holes or expensive fancy stuff. People want to know me when they see me.

I’m about to make an amazing body of work. I’m going to go to all the places I like to go to find things and I’m going to collect them all together and use them to make paintings and sculptures that are beautiful. You will like them.

I like creating new ways of interacting with the world. I try to treat everyone as if they are already my friend. Secretly, I am an incredible gardener with no experience. I am pretty good at almost everything I try. I am really smart and my memory is amazing. I have really good ideas and I’m on the verge of an amazing career being creative.

I am a traveler. I wander all over and I have good karma and amazing luck. I am open to new ideas and I love everyone. I am very generous. I see the good in people when even they can’t see it. I am well read and can see all sides of any argument that isn’t close to me. I am loyal and true and will fight for you. I have great ideas and I love to brainstorm.

I work hard and have a high standard for everything I do. I know how to have fun and I know how to dance. I am a great singer with a beautiful voice. I can make a mean martini. I am passionate and emotional and I cry easily. I am sensitive and maybe even a little psychic. I can feel your energy. I can feel your pain. I am hotblooded.

I have the most incredible life. It is full of love and twists and turns and adventure and new things and old things and change and challenges. One day I will live in NYC. One day I will live in the middle of the country. One day I may show up on your doorstep and I will tell you all the tales and show you what I have found in my journey.

Someday I will make a cake for you and put it in my bike basket and ride it to your house and you will be surprised, because you don’t know me yet. And we will sit and eat it and talk and laugh and it will be amazing.

I love you.

Last week was my birthday, and all throughout the week awesome things kept happening. My dad had this awesome barbecue for me and my grandma, whose birthday is the day after mine. He made tons of delicious steak and ribs and swordfish and my new step-mother made me a pineapple upside down cake with cherries in it. My boo, T, spoiled me all week, taking me to movies and out to eat, and even to the Body Shop where I got creams and potions and lotions and things to make me feel pretty.

On Thursday we went to the California Academy of Sciences. You get in free if it’s within 7 days of your birthday, and let me tell you there are a lot of birthdays in February. Tons of people were getting in free. It was a steal too, since regular admission is $25. Since it was my birthday, and we went during nightlife, which is only $12, we made out. Also, they enter you into a birthday raffle that gets you two free drinks and tickets to the planetarium.

When we got there, I went directly to the planetarium because I knew the tickets went quickly. We caught the first show of the night, which was fraught with technical difficulties and had to end early, but it was still awesome to see. Just being in the planetarium made me dizzy. The huge curved ceiling made you feel like you were no where. It felt like what I’d imagine being in the middle of the ocean on a cloudless day feels like. You don’t know where anything ends or begins.

After the show we went to the Rainforest, which is awesome and full of little creatures and butterflies. Halfway through it, there was an announcement that I’d won the birthday raffle! It was so wild, and we were having such a good time, it felt like the gods were spoiling me or something. We went to claim our prize and then spent the evening sipping martinis in the atrium before getting to go to the planetarium again and seeing the whole magnificent show in completion, no interruptions.

This feeling comes every so often, though I haven’t had it in a while. When I was in college there was one booth in the dining hall. It was in a little alcove made of stained class. It was my favorite place to sit. One fall semester I’d come to a meal and every time it was free. For weeks, every time I entered the dining hall I could sit at my favorite place. This might not sound like a big deal to you, but it made me feel like I was magic. Like I had this amazing streak of something that wasn’t even luck. It was like the sun was shining on me while it rained all around. T calls it “universal flow”. If you can learn to flowwith the universe, the universe will provide you with everything you seek and everything you need.

As it starts to become spring, I’m trying to get into the flow more and more. I am telling the Little Haters in my head to shut up their chattering. I’m replacing the negative voices with little encouragements. I’m trying to will myself into being strong, capable, confident, and outgoing, instead of giving into the part of me that wants to hide in my bed and never talk to anyone.

I’m trying to take care of myself. Stop doubting or being impatient or injuring myself and start being organized and getting on track. I have a long way to go, but every time I feel that I’m in the flow, it gets easier. It makes me feel like good things will happen, and that all I have to do is float along and recognize it.

It’s a good way to start a new year of being me. I don’t know what I thought I’d be like at 25, but now that I’m here, I’m doing my best to make it better every day.

When I was in school, I was always excited for what I would do when I got out. Free from all the restrictions and requirements of education, I would be finally free to do what I wanted, and become the person I was meant to be. Then I got out and figured out that I have to pay rent and feed myself, which can be a little dream-crushy at times. Sometimes it’s hard to get back aspirations when you still have to get the everyday stuff handled. For a little while now, I’ve been trying to remember what or who I was striving for all those years I dreamed of graduation.

When I was really little, I wanted to be a talent agent. My mom was a producer and media trainer, and my sister was an actress, so it felt like a good fit. Little but fierce, I’d be able to haggle the most money and the best jobs with my quick wit, charm, and manipulative tactics. I’d take care of people who couldn’t do it by themselves.

Then there was the torch singer idea. I wanted to lie around on pianos and be treated like a princess and admired by all for my sweet, smokey, sultry voice. I’d hypnotize everyone with my satin dresses draping over the piano. My world would be slick, rainy cityscapes lit by streetlights, walking home on the arm of a tall man in a big coat. I’d drink manhattans and smoke with a long cigarette holder and basically live in the 1930s. I’d break hearts.

I thought it would be fun to be a diplomat’s wife. I wouldn’t have to deal with the boring aspects of being a real diplomat. I’d just get to travel a lot and wear fancy clothes and speak tons of languages and be super classy. I’d throw the best dinner parties and bring the best out of everyone and have an amazing place for entertaining. Everyone would adore me and I’d be like a slightly lower level, less famous, but more interesting and artsy Jackie O.

When I got to high school, I did this awesome after school arts program where I met a bunch of practicing artists. I’d visit their studios and go to their shows and that was when I first realize that there were people who actually made art for a living. I remember this moment, because I always loved to make art. It was my favorite thing to do, but I thought it was too fun to be something you could make a career out of. After that, I was hooked. My mantra was “Do what you love, and things will happen.” It led me to major in art in college, where I learned not only about making art, but I also learned how cut-throat and shmoozy the art world supposedly was. It was a big turn-off, one that I haven’t worked through fully yet. Plus, I became more interested in making events and parties than static sculptures or paintings.

When I really think about what I want to do, and who I want to be, I keep coming back to the same thing: anyone/anything I want all the time. I used to think that I could just do whatever I thought was really cool, but lately I’ve been a little blocked on the coolness front. My vision is a little blurred. But the fact remains that I just want to be amazing. I want to be that person whose presence changes a room when I enter. I want to be confident without being cocky, effortlessly beautiful, truly authentic, trusting, and candid. I want to make everyone I meet feel comfortable, like they are already my friend, and like they don’t have to pose or posture at all. I want to have so many good ideas that I give most of them away and inspire art and culture and projects and good deeds. I want to make magic happen, and glide through life, crushing obstacles and worry and troubles underneath me, as though they were nothing. I want to make art, make events, make dinner, make lemonade stands, and get people to stop and think about how lovely and beautiful thing moment is right here. I want to turn reality into a place that people think must be a a dream from which they never want to wake.

Yes, I want to be a faith healer. An artist. An organizer, a planner, a carouser. I want to sing in the street and give everything I am to everyone around me and get it right back. I want to dream and break the rules. I want to do everything, because I can. And I want to give people this perspective, that they can do anything too. And then maybe together, we will.

I’ve been watching a lot of trash TV this week. We are house sitting at a place in a super residential district with no internet, a big flat sceen, and Direct TV. I never watch broadcast TV, but every so often it’s nice to experience. I like to think of it as a sociological study about American Society and Pop Culture. Mostly, my conclusion is that it’s really fucked up. There are some quality shows, but I would say 99% of television tells you how to be, who to be, how to fix all that is wrong with you, and be as beautiful as the skinny bitches strolling happily along Caribbean beaches in bikinis with hot guys. THIS IS LASTING FULFILLMENT.

So last night I flipped on the Boob Tube and my boo, T, and I started watching Phat Girlz on Oxygen. Intrigued, and yet, also slightly put off by the movie’s title, I thought it would be a hot minute before I turned the channel, but something stopped me. I got sucked in.

For all of you in the dark, Phat Girlz is about three ladies who go on vacation, two of whom are lovely thick women, and one of whom is a tight assed aerobic instructor. They are all surprised when a group of Nigerian doctors at the hotel for a conference introduce them to a different point of view. In Nigeria, they say, the thicker the woman, the richer and more attractive she is thought to be. The aerobic instructor, thong and all, starts getting treated like the ugly chick while the other two are swept off their feet, at which point one of them can’t believe that this hot guy actually likes her and freaks out, sure that his affections are dishonest, and bails.

I related to this movie in two ways:

1. I once had a Nigerian boyfriend too!

And when I told him that usually thick girls are treated like lepers, he didn’t know what I was talking about. He could hardly conceptualize the idea that people would prefer skin and bones to hips and boobs and butts. He thought I was hecka sexy and it felt really good.

2. I still ask my boo, T, if he thinks I’m attractive.

I think he’s super hot, and I often wonder how I get to be with such a beautiful guy. I have never, in my whole life, been skinny. Add to that bad skin when I was a teenager, a few stupid boys treating me awful,  many years being single, jerky comments from jerky jerks every so often, and you know, 24 hour media messages telling me that I am ugly, unhealthy, unattractive, not sexy, and not rich enough, dirty, slobby, unfashionable and pathetic, and you have my crippled self-image. For the longest time I thought I’d never have a date, that no one would ever in a million years want to sleep with me, and I would just be alone and live with my best friend and his lover and whoever else and we’d be like Full House only queer and without any widows. And I was okay with that.

The point I’m dancing around is this. ISN’T THIS FUCKED UP?

It’s fucked that I have spent so many years feeling all these inadequate feelings about myself because this society is so obsessed with LIES! Just looking at the other channels, most of them are dedicated to making yourself feel shitty about yourself, and then trying to sell you something that will make you better. Or trying to make you jealous of a lifestyle you will never have. Or making you buy crap you don’t need because it will lead you to a more fulfilled and happy life.

Lies!

We are all insecure humans, and lots of business feeds off our insecurities. From now on, I’m going to make a dedicated effort to not give a shit how ugly I might seem to some people. I’m going to look in the mirror, say “Hot.” and call it good. I’m also going to tell everyone beautiful I see that they are beautiful, and why. I mean, doesn’t it feel good when someone gives you props? Sometimes it can change my whole mood for a whole day or longer. Why don’t we do this all the time? Why do we have to be jealous and compete and try to bring each other down when we can drive around the city yelling “Hot Stuff!” to people on the street? I think the latter would definitely be more fun. And it would be time spent having fun, instead of just sitting around thinking about all the things that are so wrong about you.

*Not actual tilt-a-whirls, but like, brain spinning media messages and stuff. And it rhymes.