wend

wend: to direct one's course; travel, proceed


Mike, his dog Lennon, and I went hiking on one of the ridge to river paths Sunday morning.  It was breathtaking. We wended up the golden hills.  Never gets old, having such gorgeous nature just minutes outside the city. We went to Addies for breakfast afterward.  And as delicious as my corned beef hash was, I would have rather stayed up in the foothills for the rest of the day. I wish I had taken my phone or camera just so I could capture the view. I stole this one from another blog...

Beautiful! You can see the entire city <3 Next time, maybe we'll bike it.

hill of beans

hill of beans: according to urabandictionary.com, this term is U.S. Marine jargon comparative for something worthless

You know what, sometimes you break your ankle and lose the very love of your life and realize you hate your job and where you live, and then BAM! your dearest friend Nick comes to visit and reminds you that depression sucks balls, but life amounts to more than just a hill of beans.  So I dedicate this song to Nick.

Our time together was too short, as always, but I'll always remmember how we we ate delicious co-op sandwiches and hung out with Anthony.  They cooked noodles, I ate them, they played pool, I got frustrated (I really susper suck at pool and am a poor sport about it), they argued, I didn't help. Ha! And of course, there was this...

fun with lighter fluid, burning anarchy! Not illegal, no, nope. Perfectly safe.

Not really sure what's going on here, something to do with watching Nacho Libre, maybe.

Anyway, so this was really the cherry on top, I also got a new job and am cleared to skate come Feb, and found a new place to live! So, suck it depression. Check and mate. I win this round.

adroit

adroit: clever or skillful in using the hands or mind

Competent, that was the theme of my Wednesday.  I installed a washing machine and changed the dryer duct, which I got free just for being cute and curling my hair this morning.  The delivery gave me his number too. Thank you genetics and thank you curling iron, even though you're half broken, both of you.  I also made croutons, gluten free croutons at that.  And I was craving chocolate ice cream, but the freezer was devoid of chocolate ice cream. Tragic. But alas, I found some coco powder, added it in and wha lah!  There is something so gratifying about making or fixing things with your own hands.

This remind me of by far the best find in all the Treasure Valley Area.  My new friend Ryan took me to this place called the Reuseum.  They do a more eloquent job of explaining themselves than I can, so just make the jump over to their website. As added incentive, I promise you robots!

on my mind...

on my mind...

So, today I had a doctor's appointment to get my cast off and I left work early. I had lunch at Baja Fresh and bam! there was the most recent copy of the Boise Weekly stacked tall in it's little wire press cage.  When I got it, I instantly flipped to the back and read the following horoscope:

"When I see your face, the stones start spinning!" wrote the poet Rumi, as translated by Coleman Barks. "Water turns pearly. Fire dies down and doesn't destroy. In your presence I don't want what I thought I wanted." I think you need to be in the presence of a face like that, Gemini. You've got to get your fixations scrambled by an arresting vision of soulful authenticity. You need your colors transposed and your fire and water reconfigured. Most of all, it's crucial that you get nudged into transforming your ideas about what you really want. So go find that healingly disruptive prod, please. It's not necessarily the face of a gorgeous icon. It could be the face of a whisperer in the darkness or of a humble hero who's skilled in the art of surrender. Do you know where to look?

seems beyond fitting.

swag

swag: promotional items, especially when given free, considered as a group; slang for stolen property.

"Do not fear, we need not steal this remarkable and coveted memento," Nichole said. "Besides, Alisha's not wearing enough clothing for us to hide it under," I added. "And just in case we forget where we got this bucket full of cheap beer from, we can look on the side and read SOUVENIR- MERIDIAN SPEEDWAY. Gawd I love 'merica."

Gill drove again in the annual boat race demolition derby. We came to watch and support. He did surprisingly well. Last year his car engine crapped out on the third lap and someone stole his boat. But don't mention it, he's still a little heartbroken.  This year though, he did a fantastic welding job and his car was decked out in beautiful artwork, hand-crafted by all your favorite/loveable local tattooist from Inkvision in Boise, ID. Ahh, how I love them so.

At any rate, we had a magnificent time and even after losing his boat, Gill was able to weld on another one, reenter the race and finish third or so.  I talked to him yesterday and no one is more gung-ho for next August.

Oh ho ho Kendall, you are good people.

a murder

a murder: a flock, such as a 'murder of crows,' people in the dark ages were put in crow cages to be pecked to death by them as a form of execution...or so the myth goes

Nick! Nick! Nick nick nick...came to visit!

This has almost nothing to do with murders or flocks. But, nonetheless, I love Nick with all my heart. He's a stand up friend.

While he was in town, we went to I-hop and ate pancakes and eggs and bacon. I was a little sleepy and we ended up having some ridiculous conversation during which Nick accused me of killing small animals. So, naturally, I said aloud, "I don't just go around killing puppies" at the exact moment when our waitress walked up to ask if we wanted any refills. I slumped down into the plasticy booth seat and gave Nick a scolding look.  It's bad enough that we were in I-hop at 1 am, our waitress naturally assumed we were drunk (silly her), but now, on top of it all, she thought I was a murderer. I ate as quickly as I could and made Nick pay the bill while I scurried to the car so I wouldn't make myself look anymore foolish...like I had when we came in and I inquired aloud (I meant for it to be in my head) whether or not they cooked the rice that was holding a group of pens upright in a coffee mug by the cash register for later use.  It's perfectly good rice!

Nick and I also took his younger sister to see Attack the Block, which isn't really a "scary movie." I like alien movies, I really do.  But it did have disproportionately scary previews.  Nick and I had to cover our eyes.  We're REAL MEN when it comes to pansy things like zombies and possessed children. (meanwhile I am shaking my head to reflect the honest truth).

praxis

praxis: practice, as distinguished from theory; accepted practice or custom.

Alby exaggerated the reach of her leg over the raft onto the pebbly river bank.  She slowly raised herself to her feet, lifted up her sunglasses, and leaned towards me. "Why didn't you tell me I was this drunk?" she demanded. I chuckled and told her that just because I am always DD, doesn't mean I am also required to monitor her alcohol intake.  She lovingly said, "oh, okay. I (emphasis oh I) didn't realize I was this intoxicated. I just thought it was the wavy river." Silly Alby.

Readers, if you have ever floated the Boise river sober (which most don't), you know that sobriety is always the most entertaining.  Every time I float the river, I always wish I had a camera or a little bird to back up the stories that I have experienced.  Cracks me up.  I spend the entire time laughing.  Drunk people trying to navigate a river on a small flotation device is the best kind of humor.

This time we went in the middle of the day and Shooter had convinced Tim, Alby, and Andrew that they were going to die in a tragic accident with a tangle of branches after a small (very tiny, almost non-existent) rapid.  Alby screamed, "FUUUUUUUCK! that's a huge rapid. We ARE going to die. Monique do something, you are the only sober person here!"  I took a sip of my Sprite, lounged back on my tube, and smiled evilly.  Then Andrew, his ego gets bigger with every beer, decided that he was going to move the entire tree and get us to safety.  Remember at this moment, I am calmly floating in the middle of deep green water, soaking in the tranquil sun...did I say calmly already?  Meanwhile, all four of them are in utter panic.  I lost it and started cracking up when Andrew got out of the raft, both hands up, and pushed the air to one side and then the other. "There guys, don't worry, everything is clear now." Fucking hilarious. I didn't even bother asking him what he thought he had just moved. I couldn't, I was laughing too hard. The rest of the float just got exponentially more ridiculous.

I'm at home now, aloe on my pink sink and the fan blowing on my tattoos. I drove everyone home safely without having to move any invisible trees. My burn will peel in a few days. But...it's worth it. I encourage you, if you ever have the chance, float the river sober and you will likely pee your pants. Wear sunscreen too. Actually, do everything sober, it's just better that way.  Everything seems more real and more genuine.

regret

regret: to feel sorrow or remorse for

With confidence, I have little to no regrets in my life.  I honestly understand; live and let live, what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, no use crying over spilled milk. Frankly, there's a reason why I have the following tattooed on my body...

"the weight is a gift"

However, every now and again there is that one fleeting moment that I wish I would have done differently.

12;10pm. Ten minutes late for my lunch break.  The bright orange gas pump light on my dashboard blinked with indignation; I had neglected it for far too long.  So, we, my car and I, made a trip to the Shell station on Federal Way. Begrudgingly I got out, forked over my debit card, and shoved the pump into the tank. The day was bright, washing everything in yellow.  I put on sunglasses and tapped my foot, waiting impatiently.  I looked to the right and in pulled a small cloud of sunshiney dust. The cloud stopped, the dust settled, and an old Ford pickup materialized. Out came a man, a very handsome man, unconventionally handsome. He smiled at me, shook out a card from his wallet, and shuffled into the store. He was wearing slippers and eating a sucker. Not sure that even matters, but it was half the reason I smiled back.  For the first time, in a long time, my heart stopped.  I didn't die, obviously, for it was only a moment.  A moment during which I thought to myself, "post-it-note + my phone number + gorgeous old ford truck + cute guy = ...hmm?" My mind was ticking, percolating even.  Then the gas pump clicked and demanded that I answer that stupid question about whether or not I wanted a car wash when there isn't even a car wash at that gas station. I sunk back to reality, chicken-ed out, and got into my car.  As I was driving away, I pounded my head on the steering wheel and said aloud, "stupid stupid stupid."  I should have given him my number.

Sounds silly, huh?  Yeah, well I don't get "butterflies in my stomach" often, so when I do I trust my gut.  Remorse, yes a little. Regret, certainly.

And to you, Mr. Gas Station Man, wherever you are, whoever you're with, they are lucky to have your company.  Especially if you are generous enough to give them rides in your pick-up.

I want a truck. And a man (well that's complicated, but when push comes to shove, sure why not). Two for one would be most ideal.

p.s. did I tell you about the old rusty black Chevy pick-up that I see on my walk to work every morning? I pass swiftly with envy. If only I owned that truck.  It's parked across the street from that sing shop on Highland. Looks a little like this...

but with more character, sits low to the ground and everything!

cop out

cop out: an idiom which means to avoid taking responsibility for an action, fulfilling a duty or meeting expectations

I'd write something terribly witty and insightful, but yeah, I have no excuse. I'm just lazy, or maybe tired, seeing as the time on my clock reads 3:47am. So I'm going to take the path more traveled and just blog my current life in pictures. I'm sorry for the cop out.

Essentially, I moved to Boise and got a job...and then another job...

I learned, once again, that some people are just crummy and will always be crummy, end of story. This seems to be a reoccurring lesson in my life, but it never soaks-in. Maybe I just have an overly sentimental heart. Anyway, I'm letting go, accepting that it's just been too much for too long. It's not my fight to fight anymore. I'm not sure I can muster the energy anymore. Oh resilience, why do you cling to me? I want to be happy, I sware (although at another time in my life this answer would have been different, no more wallowing) and with just one more push I'll be too apathetic not to be happy. what do they say ignorance is bliss, well apathy breeds happiness :/


anyway, as promised, I cut my hair on the very day that I didn't think or freight about the aforementioned heartbreak for the first time in what seems like the longest time...


and now I skate roller derby a super duper lot, and wash wheels instead of dishes, and buy tank tops that read "silly boys, trucks are for girls" (trust me, if you play roller derby this is hilarious).


and I walk to work or ride my bike most days, along the way I sometimes see something that makes me chuckle, like this bumper sticker...



The world would be a more bearable place if more people followed this statement.
I eat a lot of cereal too... in the big bowl.

and listen to the music Nick gives me...

and sometimes, I even hang with my sister and brother-in-law and we go to Hastings, poke around, only to rent and watch a really sad movie about love called Blue Valentine from the red box (it's right up there with "I Am Sam" and "The Land Before Time." I was depressed for like a fucking week after each of these movies, no joke).

oh and, my sister often orders for me at restaurants. She says, " 'scuse me, sir, is this gluten free?" She says this because I was recently diagnosed with a wheat/gluten allergy. More on that to come later. Promise.

oh and, this is going to make me seem like a bad aunt for not posting news of this sooner...but my sister Jessica had her third, a boy named Dean Derex Lee, two middle names. Who doesn't love a man with two middle names?! Weird. I have a nephew. We don't have a lot of men in our family, so this is new.

robot voice

robot voice: visual definition below...

Nothing is more entertaining than a three year old with sticky blue popsicle lips, shouting "I am a robot" into a giant oscillating fan.

Mom and Dave came to visit this past week.  Jess and I took them, along with my nieces, to the Main Street Auction. I didn't buy anything except for a gaggle of popsicles and ice cream bars.

we had fun though!

Marine friends!

giant marshmallows

the boat had a sign on it reading "do not sit or stand," I helped them get in!

tersely

tersely: brief and to the point; effectively concise

hmm, wish I could do things tersely. but no.

I’d rather not talk about moving to Boise. Too stressful. So, let’s give "tersely" a shot and leave it at, I ate a really delicious salad from hotel room service and I, for the first time in my life, experienced two thoughts at once.

oh. no. I feel a loquacious ramble coming on...

That being said, I am safe and soundly moved into a house and am working my old job at Albertsons until I find a better paying position with a more consistent schedule.

Dun dun dun. I got a phone call from the Lt. at McCord Air Force base today. Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but I’ve got options. So, pretty much he told me that I am a strong candidate, except for my AFOQT scores are a little low and that I am a little young to have been selected. He let me know that with only a 9% selection rate, candidates who get selected are usually in their mid to late twenties and already have some managerial experience. So needless to say, I was not selected for this year’s officer training board.

This, although disappointing, does not mean the end of the world. The application process alone has made me reconsider, and to some extent solidify, my values. I’ve realized that I need and want a career in uniform (not necessarily military, but along the same lines) and that I am young and should seek more life-experience and world travel with a purpose. So as for my options, I can retake the AFOQT and reapply in any of the coming years. But, I think my game plan has shifted now. It’s not necessarily plan B…more like plan ½ of A. I am moving to Boise and starting graduate school in the fall and will use the next two to three years to earn my MLIS, gain managerial/leadership experience, and well, shenanigan-around and about. I’ve been so driven the last few years that I think it’s high time to take more unexpected opportunities. When I informed my sister of this, she said, “Please don’t get pregnant.” Don’t worry, I have no plans of pregnancy (at least not until I am well into my 30’s and maybe even indefinitely- don’t tell my mother). And that’s not what I mean anyway. What I mean is that I need time to dick around. I need to skate derby, sit on the roof with a lawn chair and fireworks, knit-bomb*, giggle at my siblings when they’ve had too many twisted-teas, have absurd conversations with my niece about anything and everything, bake cookies at one am in the morning and burn the char that has been building up like black guck on the sides of my brain these past few years. I know that an earlier version of my-self would have panicked at the thought of this; they would have cowered in defeat at the apparent stagnant-ization of progress.

I’m 22 and sometimes, most times actually, I think I’m 40 and in the middle of a quarter-life crisis, and other times I feel blue and like life sucks balls. But truth is, it doesn’t, and even if it does there are things about it, good and bad, that make that blue turn grey turn white, and make things oddly peace in all the chaos. This, this is what I need. I need time to remember what’s like to be spunky, to be curious, to be okay…with everything. In fact, I need time to just exist. I’ll work, I’ll go to school, I’ll have my goals, I’ll still be tenacious and driven and dramatic, but lighthearted this go-around. I do indeed want to accomplish all my goals, but later rather than sooner. Take my time and ensure that I’ll make it, spunky as ever, to my 40^th and then 80^th and then 100^th year, one of those grandmas that plays bingo and wears the giant plastic sunglasses and curly-q visors and gobs of fake jewelry and power walks with her pals, one of those that still has a glow to her face and a zest in all she does.

*for more on knit-bombing see earlier post...

oh and...as for the two thoughts at once...I normally have a lot of back burners on in my mind. How I think is like a rapid fire gun, I grab, grab, grab thoughts from a giant floating cloud. But I never really think two thoughts at the same exact time. Never have I heard my brain's voice speak two words simultaneously, that is until I was driving and thought, AT THE SAME TIME, "i've never been tot hat rest stop before" and "I've never been to that Mexican restaurant before." This is silly, but I thought it was profound at the time and will probably continue to condition my brain to think like this, or maybe not. Thinking get's me into trouble sometimes. The brain, what a crazy thing it is.

Les bois!

les bois: French for the forest, Boise, ID nickname in "the city of trees"

I spent spring break in Boise. It was...strange. The family stuff was normal and a healthy break from my thesis and the dreary Portland rain. We played Playstation Move. My obliques are sore. I'm hooked. I ate dinner at the Olive Garden with my sister Jess. Bread sticks and talking about ozzy osborne make a surprisingly entertaining combination.

But the other stuff was oddd.

I had a date with Gill (my tattoo artist). such a clown, that man is. We ate falafel (for Gill this was exotic. te he.) and we agreed that I will, from now onward, keep my eye out for a morbidly obese cat or a dog that's missing a leg (apparently Gill has a preference for the right front paw to be missing, oddly I don't find this preference weird at all, totally understandable).

Then there was my near-impossible search for an album that I was going to give to Nick (an old Mission of Burma compilation). Sadly, this search ended in me having a semi-frustrated conversation with the sales guy at the Record Exchange and then angrily going to eat a sandwich at the co-op.

Okay so that's all mild.

The real strangeness began later in the week. My stomach started to hurt nearly 24 hours before I was supposed to meet up with T. Probably not a good sign. Things just come unhinged around him. We did the normal stuff, got something to eat, became confused over his indecision, and then made out...three times (note that I pointedly asked if he was seeing anyone at the moment making extra careful sure, but there's still something I can't quite put my finger on about him). It took so long to feel okay and now it's like I am trying to rewind a movie that I only sort of liked in the first place...maybe. I don't know how I feel. I wish T would be decisive once in his life and just straight up tell me what to do. tough luck with that though.

Despite T, this trip has made me realize that I'd like to spend the next couple of years in Boise. There's something unusual about Idaho that I enjoy. so begins the battle to find housing :P

update: found housing, a roommate, and a job. go me!

blind date

blind date: a date between two people who have not previously met. normally not a good idea.

so my family set me up on a blind date last night. It was a double blind date. We ate fish tacos and went bowling.  A pretty decent time was had.  The guy they set me up with was super attractive, he had an infectious smile, strong stature, and freckles! He also had a wonderful personality, he was chivalrous, funny, laid back. AND YET...I felt crummy for the entire night.  At one point he was even sitting right there next to me on the couch and straight up asked if I wanted to make out, which trust me, I wanted to make out...but it would have been awkward.  I would have just thought of all the crummy heartache I've been harboring these days, and then the corners of my mouth would have sunk downward.  I wish you-know-who'd just leave me alone, get out of my head so I can move on and make out with other people, attractive other people who are sitting right there wanting to make out. I felt sorry for the guy.  I wanted to explain to him...so yeah I just had my heart ripped out of my chest by a person I felt deeply for...nothing against you, I just have emotional problems, surprise surprise! I'm tired of feeling like that though. I really don't want to be that girl again, the one with all the heavy baggage. Eff it. I should have made out with him. Wow, I sound like a 13 year old girl right now. Go me.

on a positive note much Social Distortion will be had tonight. AND if I can swing it, I'll get to go see my dear friend Gill drive in a Demolition Derby at Meridian Speedway tomorrow night. Wonderful. Not quite making out, but wonderful nevertheless.

update 8/15/10: to the author of the comment below I say, "trust me, I know"
update 8/19/10: see "on my mind..." post for 8/19/10 :)

industrious

industrious: diligent and hard-working.

I've been busy, putting my left foot in and shaking it industriously all about. Two jobs is tough stuff.  But so far I'm managing. It's the small things that get me trough.

There's a regular that comes into Albertson's, he usually buys a loto ticket on Wednesdays. I'm kicking myself for forgetting his name.  We started off on the wrong foot.  I was tired and he cracked a joke that I found offensive.  Who knew he'd become my favorite customer.  He works at Micron and likes to give me practical life advise.  It's people like him that make me think the world is worth wading through.  One morning we were chatting it up when I pushed the intercom button on accident and a good five minutes of our conversation was broadcast to all the store.  Eventually we noticed and I started cracking up when my supervisor tried to talk to me about "the incident".  I didn't get in trouble or anything, just told to be careful. What a good day!

There's another guy that comes in regularly.  He an older African American man with orange hair, seriously it's orange.  Think Dennis Rodman but 50 years older.  He oddly smells like waffles and maple syrup.  One day he came through my line to buy a bottle of face wash.  He asked me if I could read the instructions to him.  So I turned the bottle over and started reading, "lather face with two..."  He interrupted me and said it's better if I just explain it in my own words.  So then I walked him trough step by step how to wash his face. Just so he remembers he proceeded to recite the steps back to me, acting out the motions even.  He put his hands to his face and moved them round and round in tiny circles saying, "first I wet my face, right? Then I get a wet cloth...no scratch the wet cloth, I don't need that.  So I get my face wet then I later on the soap and I rinse!"  We did this three or four times until he was satisfied that he could remember the steps.  Best part is, after I rung him up and said "have a good day" he came back twenty minutes later and we did the whole thing over again!  This time I got creative and drew out a diagram on a note card for him.  He put it in his pocket and looked at me a bit sideways and confessed, "I'll probably miss place it."  I reassured him, "well, I'll be here if you do." 

I've got a confession of my own, when I'm bored I draw little punk rock cartoons in my notebook or on the back of recite paper...I'll scan those in for you later!

As for my internship, I get quite a bit done here and really feel productive.  But when there's a lull in work I like to write my initials in the dust on the tops of the archive shelves.  So far I'm up to about 63 shelves I still have about 110 to go.

intern

intern: practicum worker, volunteer, apprentice, free labor, mentee, protege, trainee...whatever you call me i'm getting buckets of invaluable experience (not to mention a gold star for my Grad school application); possibly one of the most infamous interns would be Monica Lewinsky (ironically an alumnus of my college, but no worries I will not be following in her footsteps, no sir)

yesterday I started my internship at the Idaho State Historical Society's Research Library and Archives. So far, I'm awestruck with the whole experience. I get to wear white gloves like Mickey Mouse, process old legislative bills, humidify things using an ultra "high-tech" trashcan and distilled water, eat chocolate covered raisins, move boxes around (and damn you think you've seen a lot of boxes before? think again my friend, think again, I'm talking a vast sea of boxes you could swim in for decades), categorize materials, then categorize more materials, break paper weights filled with shot, and maybe eventually get a name badge! So in a nutshell, I love it!!! (and yes that deserves three exclamation marks).

wild rumpus

wild rumpus: an unruly party or a noisy disturbance/commotion

so grant it the other morning I was indeed functioning on an ample amount of cold medication, but not enough to dampen the screams and giggles of small children throbbing from my niece's room at 7 am. I glanced into the hallway only to see my brother-in-law Shawn adamantly walk by and demand an explanation, "What's going on here? This is ri-diculous. Shela can't even find her pants!!!" That had to be one off the hook slumber party. Truly a wild rumpus.

in order to recoup from the side ache I got while laughing about the above incident, I shuffled out to the living room, slumped down in the big chair, and turned on the tv. I watched (but really slept through) all of the Today Show and then woke up in time for Live with Regis and Kelly. Normally not my typical tv viewing choice, but today's show featured an interview with Bruce Willis, and well I like Bruce Willis, so gosh darn it I decided to watch Live with Regis and Kelly. However, just as the interview was about to start, and my excitement was at it's highest, tragedy struck! The local news interrupted my live and tantalizing interview with the one and only Bruce Willis (did I mention it was live?) to bring me, the viewer, "breaking news!" And what exactly was this "breaking news" that's sooooo important that they had to make me miss the interview with Bruce? a fire? dead babies? the end of the world maybe?...oh no! just the opposite my friend. They interrupted a perfectly pertinent interview with Bruce Willis to tell me that little old Boise State University Football Team had decided to change leagues...and the change won't even take place until 2011. Eff that sh*t. So much for "breaking news." AND so much for a beautiful morning with Bruce Willis. Oh well, I guess that's Idaho for you.

knuckle sandwich

knuckle sandwich: slang term for a punch

Trent agreed to let me punch him tomorrow (don't even ask why). i'm excited! i've never punched anyone before, except for once during a step aerobics class...but that was an accident. i swear.

so I took the initiative to look up how to punch someone online and came across this super cool video.

update 7/29/10- I should have fucking punched him when I had the chance.