elaboration

Global Stage(?)

Whaddya think? Is it a hoax or for real?

I'm giving it a whirl just to see what shakes out of it.

It's been beautiful here the last few days- 75 degrees, bright blue sky and gorgeous fall leaves. My dad came down and we drove out to the countryside to one of the many pumpkin patches.

He picked one, brushed the dirt off and put it on top of his head.

pumpkinhead.

Went on a little adventure last night. I was invited to be a part of a consumer opinion consortium about state and federal taxes (for $50 and a free sandwich, I'll discuss anything for a couple of hours).

It was an interesting- the group was all women (we were told men tend to dominate the conversation, so discussion groups were divided up by gender) Eight of us sat in plush chairs in a stark-white room with a small microphone hanging over the middle of a conference table. To one side, was a large one-way mirror, behind which was a panel of experts drinking lattes, discussing who was most likely to win second prize in a beauty contest (I'm guessing).

At first, the mediator asked how we felt about taxes- how they were generated in Oregon, how they were spent by the state, who was being taxed for where and what and so on. Most of the group maintained that states funds are mismanaged and didn't like the idea of implementing more taxes now, even though the state revenue is below the budget by $3 billion. But most of these folks didn't like the idea of implementing more PERSONAL taxes. In the end, most of us were for taking away the flat tax for corporations (6.6%) and implementing a three-tired system of 5%, 7%, and 9% based on profit. She told us we were being fickle- first we didn't want new taxes, but by the end of the session, we did. She lambasted us in the end for being inconsistant, which I didn't like. I mentioned it. She moved on.

Unfortunately, most of the discussion was beyond my personal experiences as of late. Since I haven't lived in this state for over two years, I'm not up on the current local issues and key players in the legislature. But it was interesting to see where people's values lay. One woman was adamant on putting a stop to government research that pulled wings off flies. Another woman admitted she had paid taxes in years. (I'm pretty sure she forgot she was being recorded.)

Anyway, it was a fun-filled evening. Spent some time in a Barnes & igNoble looking at all the pretty books beforehand. It's hard- there are many many books I want to read, but if I buy them, then I have to have a place to put them down. If I have a place to put them down, I'll be encouraged to get more. It's a never-ending vicious cycle of ownership- I own them and they own me. I should just turn away and go back to my nomadic buy-and-sell harmonic relationship with Powells.

Almost forgot the most exciting part- caught a guy whacking off in the bushes as I was walking to the train. Gotta love suburbia.

Thanks for the support everybody.

I'll pull myself out of it soon.

Okay, people always seem to be asking me the same questions, so here are the answers.

Honest Assessment of My Life Right Now

Professional: Been hard at job searches since mid-July and nothing. No interview, no response, nothing. I know I am qualified for what I'm looking for and I know where to look. Portland Oregon has no entry-level positions for this field, neither does Seattle Washington. Frankly, I really should be in New York City. That was were I was going to go late September, but my sleeping couch provider there left for Asia. She should be coming back soon.

I have also applied for a job with the UN in Nairobi as an Editorial Assistant. I am very excited about this, but I am realistic with myself- my chances aren't terribly high on getting it. Also have done some writing for a local e-zine- which will hopefully give me some exposure.

Social: yes, I'm living with my mother at the moment. No, I don't get along with her very well. I just moved back to the country- I have no means of getting around. I have very few friends around here as I have been away for so long. And I haven't had a boyfriend in a long while- so no, I'm not getting any lovin', I'm-here-for-you-honey-I-believe-in-you-can-do-it support, or partaking in any enjoyable miscellaneous activities.

And I've been asked about this- yes, I like ze. No, let me re-phrase that. I like ze's creations. I think he does good work and I enjoy playing with what he makes. I know next to nothing about ze the person other than he isn't gay, his favorite colors are orange and turquoise and he lives in New York. I'm looking for a publishing job, which is best found in New York. To my knowledge, there is no correlation. Unless ze holds the keys to all the top publishing firms. I wouldn't know.

And from what I can tell, he is happily involved. There's no way in hell I would come anywhere near that or him. Those who know my past well enough will know I mean it. I know what stalking feels like- it's not pretty.

So why New York? I like the place. I miss being around a place like Tokyo. I miss the wry honesty of China. New York seems to have both. Portland doesn't. I know Portland. Portland is home. Home is a nice place to visit, but I don't want to live there. See above for my professional goals.

Health: Deteriorating. Had a trite battle with an insurance company- they will not cover me for two years. In the meantime, I will get to pay them money for them to not cover me for what I need them for.

Mental: pretty agitated and frustrated most of the time. I don't sleep or eat much. trying very hard to keep my spirits up, but it's tough. I tend to latch on to the smallest happy thing. Feel like I've been fighting too many battles and moving around so much for the last five years that I've forgotten what it's like to be geuninely happy and at peace in my own world. Would really like to get there. I feel like this next job is the final big step in order for me to take back my life. But it's just not happening.

There you have it. I'll let you know if anything changes.

Oh yeah, Grindell is still MIA.

C'mon folks. I really need a job.

Bad.

I'll do a good job. Really. I swear.

I think that's why I've been so weird lately. I need something to sink my teeth into. Something besides playthings. As much as playthings are fun, I need some balance in my life.

Sorry if I've been weird in your direction. I'm just pretty lost right now.

I have issues with...

history camping labor age submission

Take Word Association Test

Who knew?

Yes. Yes I did just apply for a job in Nairobi yesterday.

It's okay, guys. I have a million to one shot of actually getting it.

Okay, so if your confluence has been done for The Degree Confluence Project (see below), you can still have fun with geography- Geocaching.

Be sure to dig out your GPS.

There's one within 49 miles of you.
Do your part for geography.

The Degree Confluence Project

as some of you already know, I'm a fan of crusing craigslist, a grassroots online community for everyday stuff- housing, jobs, stuff to barter, exotic and erotic girls to attend law firm parties, mothers hiring strangers to wake up their children, Spiderman gigs in Brooklyn, etc.

so, I'm very excited to see this being filmed in SF: 24-hours on Craigslist. Zealot pictures is following up and filming on all the postings from August 4th, 2003 in San Francisco. Can't wait to see it.

Truth is stranger and heaps more entertaining.

So last night, I'm reading Story by Robert McKee. I'm in the chapter where he talks about the Writer must Master Classical Form (of storytelling), when I come across this passage...

"By instinct or study, fine writers recognize that minimalism and antistructure are not independent forms but reactions to the Classical.... The avant-garde exists to oppose the popular and commercial, until it too becomes popular and commercial, then it turns to attack itself.... These cycles of formality/freedom, symmetry/asymmetry are as old as Attic theater. The history of art is a history of revivals: Establishment icons are shattered by an avant-garde that in time becomes the new establishment to be attacked by a new avant-garde that uses its grandfather's forms of weapons."


Understood this already, but to see it in writing is interesting. Especailly considering the past year with the mulitplicity of bulletin boards.

Profile has been changed from the Roy G. Biv chain to my resume.

A girl's gotta eat.

Any advice is welcome- to give you an idea, I want start to start in publishing, but get back into school for a Masters in International Relations.

Or a Masters in Fine Arts. Whichever comes first.

I still want mandolin lessons.

Just launched amandarust.com. Made possible by the generous birthday contribution from tmwc. Thanks, man.

If you check it out, be kind- this is my first time with web site building. Any and all suggestions are welcome- especially from those of you who've been around this block a time or two.

root beer floats and catnip are on me tonight.

October 1st

It's about that time.

Change is riding the cool wind. He could feel the hints in his limbs.

He gets up from his burnt orange corduroy la-z-boy and shuffles his way across the wall-to-wall carpet, plaid slippers staying on his stocking feet by friction. Into the kitchen, he stands up straight and stares at the Frigidaire. Top mount freezer so's the young'uns couldn't sneak ice cream before dinnertime. Not much worry about that now.

He opens the freezer door. Billows of icy fog spill out, revealing a complex masonry of butcher paper and ice crystals. Blocks of carefully wrapped steaks and pork chops fit together perfectly, sided by tater tots and otter pops from 1973. He keeps them around just in case.

He reaches back to the far left corner of the freezer and pulls out a cigar box. Opening the lid, he reveals fifty-three red and green candy canes with little white stripes. Every Christmas they were married, she made red and green candy canes with little white stripes to hang on the tree. And every year, he would make like he was sneaking one away to eat, only to hide it in this old cigar box. The box once lived hidden among all the rest of the Christmas decorations down in the basement. But sometime ago, they found an infestation of ants and she told him to get rid of the silly things. He agreed, only to hide the box in the freezer back behind the meat where she'd never find it.

Fifty-three homemade candy canes, red and green with little white stripes. Don't forget those stripes. Those stripes always took the most time, a keen eye and a steady hand. The last ones she made, the white stripes jiggle, but only a little bit. "Messy." she said. Too much like the first ones, the early years when she was learning how to make them. But they wouldn't be the same without those white stripes.

He stood there for a long time, under the cold billows of freezer fog, looking at the red and green candy canes with little white stripes.

He closes the box, puts them in the refrigerator, so's the not-so-young'uns can reach them before Christmastime, and shuffles back to the la-z-boy to take a nap.

He never wakes up.