1) My Best Friend.
Seems like I am pandering, because I am sending this to you, but I'm
not. I think you have topped my list for years and continue to amaze me
with your patience and generosity. I feel truly lucky to have a best
friend that doesn't judge me and allows me to feel like she is always
there for me, despite my having moved across the country many years
ago.
2) My Family: You understand to a large
degree what my relationship is with each member of my family - and I am
pretty sure you also know when I say this I mean Mom, Dad and Sister.
Each relationship is so different, yet each has assisted in creating
your best friend. My mom, although totally mental and infuriating has
instilled a lot of the thoughtfulness and generosity into me through her
attempts at doing so herself. She is, when it comes down to it my Mom
and no matter what I know she loves me and I love her. My sister,
although a stranger for many years now offers this amazing bridge
between elder and friend. I respect her as a person and when she gives
me insight or advice I really take it to heart. I know she cannot relate
to my being emotional or tendency to be depressed, but she does her
best to make me feel like I am not wrong for doing so. Anyone who has a
10 minute conversation with me knows how I feel about my Pops. No longer
in the haze of childhood adulation, I now very much see him for who he
is - a flawed man who has difficulty with punctuality and awareness of
his surroundings, but, especially as I grow older, an individual I know I
can always count on, a shoulder I can always cry on a person with whom I
can have conversations with that I could not with most people - even if
I don't always understand what he is saying in return.
3) My Cities: My mom will often tell me not
all people are 'lucky' enough to do the things I have done in my life
and been the places I have been. To that, I say horse shit. Sure, luck
plays a role in everyone's life - unless you're a big time bible person
and you think its all part of God's plan - but I am most certainly not
there yet. That being said, I am thankful to have made the choices and
taken the risks to have lived in and experienced both my first love, San
Francisco, and my current affair, New York. Each has it's own flavor,
its own rhythm and its own sanitation issues. And each has provided the
backdrop to my life. Sacramento clearly played a role in the early
years, and for that I give due respect, but the places in which you
create your own life and make your own adult decisions holds another
place in your heart and in your history. San Francisco is still the most
beautiful city I have ever been to - and that list is every growing. I
love it in an unconditional way and even though my mail does not
currently go there, it will forever be my home. New York has been a
crazy place to experience my late 20's and now my early 30's. Rough
terrain for such an adventure, but I am not so sure I could have done it
any other way.
4) My Country: Now I realize this sounds a
little red state coming out of my mouth - but bear with me. Perhaps
Tom's recent funeral revved up the love for the red, white and blue as
he was such a patriot, but I am thinking a little broader here. As I
travel to more and more places I realize that the United States is not
so bad. Sure, it doesn't seem as chic as France or as authentic as
Guatemala, but at least the US I live in has running water and was
theoretically built upon the foundation of free speech and some level of
autonomy. I have tested the theory of saying pretty much whatever I
like and have no once been thrown into jail. I was not considered
property and therefore sold into marriage or servitude and I am in a
country where I can use Google to look up anything from Drake to dildos
and as stupid as that may sound - not everyone has that right. And
really, who wants to live in a country where you can't online shop for
dildos?
5) My Education: This is casting another
large net, because when I think about what this means to me - it is
certainly more than the ability to add or comprehend a short story. The
standardized tests never bore much weight on my self worth. Lets start
at the beginning. Harry Dewey Fundamental - a school that not only
offered a great once over of reading, writing and arithmetic, but also
taught art and music and created an environment to make life long
relationships. As you know, my heart has been broken a few times by
these early-founded relationships coming to an end. Likely, I will never
fully recover - but perhaps I should pretend to be a positive person
and be thankful for the years I did have with the ladies who have chosen
to go their own ways and those who still stand by me today. This
transitions seamlessly into Will Rogers Jr. High where I became an adult
(in my own head) and learned how the other half lived. And by other
half I mean those who wore torn flannels, huffed magic marker in the
bathrooms and would occasionally being weapons to school. I learned a
lot in those 2 years and seemed to just collect more memorable
characters and life long friends. Del Campo High School was a pretty
typical experience in white suburbia I imagine - with only one of my own
to reflect upon. My journalism foundation was set, some responsibility
skills were acquired and my love for all things Mexican sprouted.
Although I was not a cheerleader or homecoming queen - I actually think
school was a great experience soup to nuts and there is very little I
would change if I could. San Francisco State University came next, where
I perfected my craft with a degree in Fine Arts but also learned how to
survive a broken heart with girlfriends for the first time and learned
that sleeping with said broken-heart maker for a 18 months after the
relationship has ended is a sure fire way to maintain a broken heart.
Lest we forget it was the means with which I paid for school that taught
me Spanish, salsa dancing and that family most definitely does not have
to share DNA. As you know my Hispanic brethren offered the family I
never had and showed me what it really means to be warm and open. Also, I
learned how to live with the most disgusting roommate on the face of
the planet and if you can survive that, you are really up for
anything...
6) My Health: Ok, I hate to go for the most generic of
all responses, but I suppose it is said with good reason. Sure, I wish
this 'health' translated to a killer rack, un-wrinkable skin and ass for
days - but 2 out of 3 ain't bad. With a minor health scare a couple of
years back and watching the man I loved go through a similar ordeal
recently - I will say that I am glad that I have no major health issues
and therefore am able to take it for granted as everyone does until
something bad actually happens. I suppose there is no reason to spend
your life worrying, although if there were, I would get a gold medal,
but I will take this one singular moment to be glad I, at least for now,
that I seem to be good to go for the foreseeable future.
7) My Experience: This makes me sound like a
geriatric and is perhaps particularly ironic given my current state of
depression and disdain, but let me tell you - at least I never lack for a
story. If i were famous and needed an anecdote to recount to David
Letterman or Jay Leno while seated on their well lit couch it would
certainly not be a problem. My former co-worker and dear friend Megan
will say to me occasionally that she assumed the well will run dry at
some point - but never seems to. Sure, I could have chosen to live in a
more affordable environment. Sure, I could have chosen to recognize my
fear of commitment at a younger age and settled down with one of the
nice boys I can now see were in love with me many moons ago, but that is
water under the bridge. What I have instead are a million dating
stories about Christian basketball players who were 7 feet tall and
actors who swept me off of my feet one balmy summer. I can conjure up a
tale about the love affair sparked in some foreign land with a 16
year-old or a 62 year-old. I know what its like to open your cupboard
and see cockroaches scurrying from the light of day. I know what its
like to sleep at an airport where donkeys are still considered a viable
form of transportation. I know what its like to work 85 hour weeks and
not sleep and still find time to create my own drama. I know what it is
like to be grinded on my DMX in front of thousands of people. And, most
recently, I know what it is like to be in love, and to lose that.
Perhaps I am not feeling terribly thankful for that last part just yet -
but I feel hopeful that as the pain passes and perspective is gained
some outcome involving this great love of my life will be one with which
I am at peace and feel thankful.
8) My Career Path: Irony is abundant in this list,
as you know I have had a rough go of it for the past 6-8 weeks, but
lets pretend like Fall 2012 didn't exist and I was still a busy, happy,
in love woman. I think I told you years ago, Henriette was here in New
York and trying to figure out which way to go in terms of what to do for
work. I believe this is right before she got her current position. She
said something to the effect of how lucky I was that I always knew what I
wanted to do. At the time this seemed preposterous, who doesn't know
by 26 or so what they like? Turns out - lots of people! As I grow older
and meet more people, either in a social or professional realm I often
get asked about what I do and what led me there. I wish I could tell
some story about being a tortured teenager who could only express myself
through the quiet of the lens, or it was some later in life epiphany
after seeing an Ansel Adams shot that spoke to me and realizing what my
true calling was. Truth me told - it was never a choice. It just was. I
was blessed enough to have parents that not only didn't discourage me
following an education and, in turn a career in the arts - they
encouraged it. Hell, my Dad wanted me to go 'find myself' after high
school when I was like - no, I am going to college - and a normal 4 year
one, not one of those overpriced art schools where everyone has bad
haircuts and questionable grooming habits (see: most
disgusting roommate ever!). I don't do a job. I am a job. As you also
know, being laid off this past Spring was hard for me - as it is for
anyone - but even more so because it is almost impossible for me
to separate what I do with who I am. I suppose that is a blessing and
curse, and in the spirit of this Thanksgiving list we will focus on the
blessing. So far I have managed to keep a roof over my head and food in
my ever fluctuating belly with money only derived from creative sources
and that is no small feat. So it looks like I am thankful for that too -
now if I just had some more to be thankful for in that particular
department at the moment things would be even better...
9) My Hair Color: I was two things as a
child. The big girl - and the brown-haired girl. Both were evident and
both were inevitable. As I swept the soccer field every Saturday morning
body checking any little thing half my size and months behind me in
the pubescent spectrum I would often be congratulated by a
Cinderella-inspired golden haired lassie gliding down the field to give
me a feminine hi-five. Now, always wanting to be different an unique
among my peer group, it was never too much of a disappointment to look
like the foreign exchange student in our annual team photo which read
like a catalog for Aryan child adoption, but I remember very clearly my
mother, a raven haired lady herself although not by any influence of
nature for decades now, telling me brunettes age better. Turns out - she
is right. My youthful glow could also be attributed to never falling
for the late nineties obsession with tanning beds and body glitter, but
alas, here I am at 31 and still being approached by men in their early
20s who are at least naive enough to assume we could have gone to high
school together. I graduated in the 90's - Prince sang our theme song -
do you even know who Prince is? Alas, there are some greys mixing into
my chocolate tresses these days and yes, if I were blonde the process of
maintaining blonde after the age of 15 would allow me to more easily
cover up these bad boys - but at least as my head begins to resemble a
calico cat more than the dark coco of my youth - my face remains that of
a brunette.
10) Candy: Since the request for this list
was a number somewhere between 7 and 12, I felt like 10 was a good round
number. Most of the first 9 are profound or meaningful - even if in a
vague and distant way. This one is simple - candy is good. It comes in
colorful boxes with happy illustrations indicating the childlike magic
that is awaiting you, just on the other side of the box or plastic
packaging. The pure sugar, devoid of any nutritional value will soon be
coarsing through your veins, giving you a momentary high as the
raspberry flavor hits your tongue or the candy coated chocolate refuses
to melt in your mouth. Soon thereafter will come the desire for even
more of this artificially flavored and sculpted wonderment after which
the inevitable stomach ache or headache will occur - but much like the
other pleasures in life - this will not detur you from buying that 25
cent pack of Mike and Ike's at the corner Bodega before hopping on the 1
train downtown or perusing the See's Catalog that is sent to you
bi-monthly like it is the sweetest free porn you've ever received.
Bottom line - Eat Your Feelings - Have A Snickers.
november 2012
