Time flows slowly but always with determination. The passage of minutes, hours, days, months brings new hills to climb and new storms to weather. Time, with the permanence of a wave ever flowing, brings new creations, new feasts, new laughter and new tears. Simply moving we create and flow within its realm as it is our mother allowing us freedom but reminding us always its there for us to learn from.
We believe in time as we believe in god and religion, air and our bank accounts. A man without a watch is a fool and a woman late is a sinner.
Moments are attached to imaginary dates and times and then calculated and wished upon til they arrive. Time is the only gauge of when that joy will arrive.
Rolling out new chance surprises and ever so often, rest. It allows us hope and healing. It breathes new life and also brings us closer to our inevitable departure.
As my time on the hill comes to an end, I reflect with fond memories of a time when I had a whole summer alone on a hill where dreams were born. A hill where I sat with a German Shepard named Misha and learned of the rich and felt the pangs of excitement that only someone completely alone and independent, can feel. Appreciative now as I reflect on what has been given to me. A few months, days and weeks creating an unexpected home merged together to lead to the now. The now of goodbye. I will always be thankful to Richie and his family, the gods and of course Misha for showing me a home in these rolling hills filled with many surprises and some much needed freedom. A tear rolls from my eye as I remember nothing in life is permanent, life pushes on as I have excepted it to. Let's hope time continues to be on my side. Open and signing off from the hill.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Dedicated to Blah
The lights. the glamor the fashion of Hollywood is evident in every twist and turn of the road. Lined with lights and hords of women wearing super short evening dresses with loads of makeup and push up bras. Men short, balding and doing way too many recreational drugs target their eyes on the first girl they can find that has legs to here and hair to there. It's a world of drama and glamour. A world of haute and pearls. A world of the soulless feasting on the devils drink. The only thing that is real is booze that soaks your insides. The real deal there. The conversation is dull and the people only out for a personal feel a touch and hopefully some love.. ITs a world thriving on sex appeal and lacking in intellect and all the other things that make people interesting. Its a world that has no room for the beauty of a real person. As cliche as it comes... its just a world of blah and only some have a key in. Im certainly glad Im not one of those soulless zombies.
Or maybe I just lost my key and am sad it's not under the same mat it used to be...
Or maybe I just lost my key and am sad it's not under the same mat it used to be...
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Works hard for it hunny
I sit at a desk with a fairly nice Mac computer. I sit in a fairly darkly lit room. I sit with a hunger that wont be met til lunch time. I sit knowing that I have barely anything to accomplish today. Rather I will be watching the clock and counting the hours until 7:30 pm finally arrives. That's right ten hours of tech hell to endure. Sure the projects are amazing. The ones I help orchestrate with my mindless pencil pushing, or rather mouse pushing, subdued antics. But my extent of creating something meaningful and up to my level of creativity (you know the one I went to art school for) is something left to be desired. That's why I'm blogging at noon on an idle Tuesday- there just ain't anything other to do that's worth it.
This is all saddening to "write out loud" because, my oh my am I thankful for the pay- honestly what else I could do where I get paid 250 dollars a day for sitting on my rear typing to you. A toll, however is taken on the psyche; sitting day in and out with a purpose of nil, one far other then my god given talent- sad, sad, sad, life is short isn't it???
If I can take anything from this all, a lesson perhaps: money is the all encompassing and life defining dictator. Can't turn down one street without thinking it might be there or not there for you. Money, money I beg for thy, knowing full well Bill Gates didn't do a terribly large amount of pleaing to get where he is. He gave, he provided and he in turn received. Oh service how I long for you!!!
I sit in this office chair with a secret guilt, one that would be absent if I were a millionaire or a gifted creator. A guilt that is compounded upon the ritual daily monotony of doing nothing of great value for this company, pretending that I am and getting paid for it.
Every morning in this life is ground hog day. My mom says it will pass; its just a temporary existence, a time for learning what's not for you, but is life not temporary? Am I wasting it all sitting on a pot thinking of the one thousand other places I would rather be and the one million other great things I could be much more useful at. Perhaps I'm a victim of our current economic times. Where a take what you can get attitude is abound.
But I cant help want to be somewhere far from here; hip and alive!
Til then I'm here, learning I suppose, the do's of unhappiness. Waiting for all the wishing and blogging to pave my way to usefulness.
This is all saddening to "write out loud" because, my oh my am I thankful for the pay- honestly what else I could do where I get paid 250 dollars a day for sitting on my rear typing to you. A toll, however is taken on the psyche; sitting day in and out with a purpose of nil, one far other then my god given talent- sad, sad, sad, life is short isn't it???
If I can take anything from this all, a lesson perhaps: money is the all encompassing and life defining dictator. Can't turn down one street without thinking it might be there or not there for you. Money, money I beg for thy, knowing full well Bill Gates didn't do a terribly large amount of pleaing to get where he is. He gave, he provided and he in turn received. Oh service how I long for you!!!
I sit in this office chair with a secret guilt, one that would be absent if I were a millionaire or a gifted creator. A guilt that is compounded upon the ritual daily monotony of doing nothing of great value for this company, pretending that I am and getting paid for it.
Every morning in this life is ground hog day. My mom says it will pass; its just a temporary existence, a time for learning what's not for you, but is life not temporary? Am I wasting it all sitting on a pot thinking of the one thousand other places I would rather be and the one million other great things I could be much more useful at. Perhaps I'm a victim of our current economic times. Where a take what you can get attitude is abound.
But I cant help want to be somewhere far from here; hip and alive!
Til then I'm here, learning I suppose, the do's of unhappiness. Waiting for all the wishing and blogging to pave my way to usefulness.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Love in LA
Sitting after a weekly ritual of watching True Blood, I wonder if hormones can be controlled and if this is healthy. For the last five months I have been fumbling around California on my own. I have not met a man and I wonder if I wanted this for myself. After getting out of toxic relationships on the east coast, the idea of being with a man made me uncomfortable for a while. My self esteem issues also jaunted me in to a terminal lonely abyss . Now I'm here in Los Angeles the city of angels glamor and beauty to name a few attributes. L.A. seems to be the melting pot of beauty and talent, things wish I like to believe I possess. Why then am I struggling to connect. Well for starters I find myself alone with my German Shepard on many a Friday night and not with a sense of sadness either. I almost covet the idea of sitting alone pondering life, listening to music and reading the paper. Being around people almost always make me question all the great qualities I have "invented" about myself, which are never questioned when I am by myself. MY little self created fantasies of who I believe myself to be usually come crashing down the second I open my mouth with another person. All the grace and elitism I play out within the confines of my own world suddenly gets dampened by anothers' sideway glance or my own lack of security about looks etc. So instead I sit in my house and watch shows like true blood, the ultimate love and sex fantasy- my hormones would agree. I wishfully begin to imagine a crush from summers past loving down upon me that is then immediately followed by the sadness that its just a myth in the air.
Tonight was none different except for the revelation, the face of truth, as ugly as it may be. The man you fantasize of, the vampires you openly love on tv and a warm body that you admire and respect curled up next to you are all figments of the imagination. The sooner you release these people into the universe the sooner you will be free to be yourself- whether this is desired or not, this is what must happen.
So, these ragging desires, do they be ignored, swept under the rug for a rainy day or dosed in gasoline and set flame for destruction before they do damage to my REAL life- the one that exists outside of my hopes dreams and prayers. My fantasies are not willed in to life and it saddens me to believe that I thought they might be simply wished into existence. Maybe hormones and life must remain on an even keel- a mundane existence seems about the looks of things.
A voice in the distance would like to believe otherwise, indeed.
Tonight was none different except for the revelation, the face of truth, as ugly as it may be. The man you fantasize of, the vampires you openly love on tv and a warm body that you admire and respect curled up next to you are all figments of the imagination. The sooner you release these people into the universe the sooner you will be free to be yourself- whether this is desired or not, this is what must happen.
So, these ragging desires, do they be ignored, swept under the rug for a rainy day or dosed in gasoline and set flame for destruction before they do damage to my REAL life- the one that exists outside of my hopes dreams and prayers. My fantasies are not willed in to life and it saddens me to believe that I thought they might be simply wished into existence. Maybe hormones and life must remain on an even keel- a mundane existence seems about the looks of things.
A voice in the distance would like to believe otherwise, indeed.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
The hills and thrills of wealth
In the hills I'm a house sitter for a summer. A family friend and family is off to their Brazilian home for three months. Left to me is a wonderful and equally scary looking German Shepard named Misha, a music studio which is locked and a pool that is perched high above the lay mans Hollywood. It's an eccentric set up that has blasted me right into the neighborhood of the elite. The sought out Hollywood Hills is prime property to the stars and professionally equivalent alike. Every morning, I walk outside to see the Hollywood sign, iconic and larger then life. I jog with plastic surgery patients and pass 100,000 dollar cars on the way to my "home"" each day.
All of this has been absolutely amazing in building my self esteem, feeling part of the elite, driving up the long narrow and curvy streets enlisting a sense of privilege and entitlement within my hidden rich kid. This attitude is shared by all in the hills, you can tell by the way they plow through stop signs and jog in the middle of the road. It's a thing here in the Hollywood hills. The rich and beautiful enjoying a sort of guarded and secret life full of the freedom and boundless paths.
Wealth in America, is royalty. There is no splitting it two ways. With the absence of the kings of Britain and dictators of our eastern neighbor we have but one way to show our status and feel a sense of importance; that comes in the form of monetary accomplishments. Bluntly speaking if you have a jag you can cut in front of others on the 101 and if you are wearing you designer sunglasses and a large over sized hat you can push ahead of others at the market or effortlessly reach for and secure the last Times newspaper at the airport.
I'm not here to hate the wealthy because I have high hopes of joining their ranks one of these days. This is simply an observation, one that highlights said entitlement which feels innately part of what makes one wealthy in the first place. Without guilt without remorse, simply taking with a sense that "it is mine and I deserve it."
Blind eyed to the world.
One day I may be seen driving up the hills in a gray Porsche, to my alarm code home with a view. Smiling and being the first one through the stop sign, not because I am rude but because I am most certainly rich.
All of this has been absolutely amazing in building my self esteem, feeling part of the elite, driving up the long narrow and curvy streets enlisting a sense of privilege and entitlement within my hidden rich kid. This attitude is shared by all in the hills, you can tell by the way they plow through stop signs and jog in the middle of the road. It's a thing here in the Hollywood hills. The rich and beautiful enjoying a sort of guarded and secret life full of the freedom and boundless paths.
Wealth in America, is royalty. There is no splitting it two ways. With the absence of the kings of Britain and dictators of our eastern neighbor we have but one way to show our status and feel a sense of importance; that comes in the form of monetary accomplishments. Bluntly speaking if you have a jag you can cut in front of others on the 101 and if you are wearing you designer sunglasses and a large over sized hat you can push ahead of others at the market or effortlessly reach for and secure the last Times newspaper at the airport.
I'm not here to hate the wealthy because I have high hopes of joining their ranks one of these days. This is simply an observation, one that highlights said entitlement which feels innately part of what makes one wealthy in the first place. Without guilt without remorse, simply taking with a sense that "it is mine and I deserve it."
Blind eyed to the world.
One day I may be seen driving up the hills in a gray Porsche, to my alarm code home with a view. Smiling and being the first one through the stop sign, not because I am rude but because I am most certainly rich.
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