You've got to pay the troll toll...

I was running around doing errands when I caught my reflection against a window. I expected to see my regular old face the way it looks when unadorned. I was surprised to find that my eyebrows had grown so wild that there was something manic in my eyes, something wild. My eyebrows have overgrown to the point that I look slightly crazed, possibly insane. Here is a sketch I have made of my gorgeous self:

I haven't done a self-portrait since I was in grade school (Which was painstakingly constructed in the form of a paper mosaic. I went to bed around 6am trying to finish that thing, and I only got a B. Despite my teacher's harsh grading, I remain proud of that self-portrait. It captured who I was at that age (11, I think): an overly serious and nerdy-looking girl. The portrait is quite severe), so I was actually quite pleased with the way this drawing turned out. It doesn't exactly look like me, but you can sorta see how my eyebrows have given my face a primal look of dangerous hobo-glamour. When I saw myself, I heard my father's voice saying: "Saddul eyebrows!" It's my Turkish great grandfather making his genetic presence known in the bump on my nose, and in my succulent eyebrows.

While waiting for the train while at Rockridge station I saw this beautiful aquatic-looking girl. She walked towards me and then sat beside me, and I had the hardest time keeping myself from staring at her. It was her hair: like fire, a natural bright orange. She made it more prominent by wearing this beautiful blue floral dress, dark blue knee-highs, and these arty shoes. She was all the colors in Van Gogh's Starry Night. Well, more like The Cafe Terrace...

Anyway...I couldn't resist. I turned to her and said, "Your hair...your dress...it's beautiful! You look like art!" And instead of looking at me as if I was a creepy stalker-weirdo like a normal person would, her entire body shifted towards me, and she revealed herself as an average-looking young woman with a ruddy complexion, a plump rounded nose, with clear-blue eyes. She smiled "Thanks" and looked like she was basking in worship the way cats do. I told her it must be such a pleasure to dress herself, since one of her biggest accessories is within herself-her gorgeous hair. "Oh yes!" she purred, basking some more, smiling and melting, clearly enjoying the attention. We ended up chatting some more when our train arrived. She's a fine artist (of course!), loves textiles, glass-blowing, and painting. I told her I only doodle, but I appreciate artists and art... I told her my sister was a New Media artist...

Then it was time for me to transfer trains. We said goodbye, and she yelled at me as I headed up an escalator away from her: "Keep doodling!" So I am doodling. Inspired by this young woman with fiery hair who loves compliments! Here is my drawing of her:



What is funny is there is something in her demeanor that said she wasn't conceited, even though she didn't seem one bit embarrassed by all my comments. There is something about her response that was so unpracticed, unrehearsed, joyful, unselfconscious, naive, and happy. Like children, when you let them know how magical they are, and they say, "I know!" without any false modesty or anything.

Chanticleer

Happiness

Yay!

The Night is Ripe with Possibility

This beautiful flowers on my kitchen table are a gift from from my coworker on her last day. They are very beautiful and made me very happy.

It is Arts and Crafts Night at the apartment right now. Caroline and her friend Vanessa have busted out some beautiful paper, different magazines, glue sticks, scissors, rhinestones, crayons, markers, and colored pencils. My room is an unholy mess so I am tidying while listening in and occasionally joining in their conversation. If I can get my shit together fast enough I hope to join them and create something beautiful too!

Keepin' 'er regular

I went to bed last night fighting against a very queasy stomach. I've had this awful feeling in my stomach ever since I did that 6+ hour drive up here. I spent that entire drive imagining violent car crashes, looking at my mom in the passenger seat, and praying that I would be the only one hit. That way, the guilty culprit is the only one to go. My parents are calling me every day, suggesting I take different routes to work, pushing me to start driving. I am scared shitless. I told Brian that I imagine that everyone on the road is out to get me. I don't feel this weird about driving in So. Cal. People there seem less blood thirsty. Plus, I grew up there...LA is familiar and less freakish. Drivers over here seem overly excited for blood. Everyone drives as if they have a death wish. Dad says I passed the driving test because I followed his car from LA up here. He got confused and took the wrong lane, and we ended up in SF at first. From there we had to turn around to get to the EB. After all those hours my eyes ached, and I had to squint to force them to focus. I was also dizzy and mentally exhausted. But dad's look of amazement when we finally arrived was worth it. It meant a lot for my dad to say that. He never gives away compliments. Now if I can just get over my own bullshit and start driving around here.

5 push ups
10 sit ups

6 am: tall glass of water with Metamucil
bowl of Special K fruit & yogurt cereal w/milk

9 am: leftovers from Denny's: steak fajitas w/ omelette, onions, and tiny green peppers. Protein-fest. water

5 side exercises

I've figured out what gives me this queasy feeling. It's the Metamucil! I can feel it expanding in my stomach. It makes me feel weird. Maybe I should cut back.

The holidays was perfect. I got to see all my favorite people, spend a lot of time with family, play a lot of clarinet with my mom, read a little, watch some movies with family, and get that emotional whole-ness I get from doing all that.