Art of Seeking

developments across the board

If my life gets any more interesting, I’ll be a great case study soon. But until then, I’m rather enjoying the oddness.

First, I’ve found out that my intermediate belly dance class will be performing in the first two weeks of March. The choreography is awesome, and the music is everything I’d hoped for. It starts out sounding really tribal, then this heavy bass kicks in… hell yeah. My teacher Natalie is a sweetheart AND a good teacher. Very patient.

Then, there’s the explanation for this picture:

(That’s me in my funny hat on the djembe and Matt on didgeridoo, Angela on violin, Glen on djembe/ banjo, and that one guy I just met on doumbek and effects pedals. No, the drum set wasn’t played and I have no idea what the skillet is for.)  Matt and I were asked if we wanted to perform with our friend’s band, Delphi Quorum, on Feb. 5. Sure, why not, an excuse to play music is an excuse to play music. This is an…. interesting musical experiment- some guy is using effects pedals (including a loop) on some odd sounding vocals and Matt’s didgeridoo. Then there’s a few djembes (including mine) and my Remo klong yaw that Matt is pretty good at using as a “talking drum” because it’s so out of tune.. I guess you have to hear it and know a little about tuning drums to understand why. But anyway, there’s a banjo and a violin as well. Yeah. Experimental. It’s fun, but I’m sure plenty of folks might see it is strange or just plain creepy.

So, I was at my acupuncture appointment getting jabbed when for some reason, in a conversation between me and Brent and Allie, it was mentioned that Brent knows an Incan Shaman. I’m about to start writing a research paper on medicines and hallucinogens in the ancient Andes, so it seemed quite serendipitous. He hasn’t seen her for a bit but says he’ll look her up for me. Meanwhile, I’m also doing a research paper on NAGPRA, and Ana just revealed to me that her best friend’s father is a Lakota Shaman. Perfect. And weird. But cool… I’ll be attempting to set up some interviews soon.

Meanwhile…

I’ll be doing a photo shoot this Sunday with a few models. It will hopefully involve a collection of antique tools, really colorful clothing, railroad tracks, possibly a raccoon skin coat, and a crumbling silo. Sounds like fun to me.

If you’re not calling your favorite legal drug dealer (i.e. psychiatrist) for some Prozac on my behalf yet, it’s only because you know me well enough. I guess. Thanks.

I’m making some Pozole and hoping the damn hominy is done before the cornbread is. I need to get to sleep soon… long day tomorrow…

Oh, yeah. The top picture is my friend and tattoo artist Randal, playing a variation of chess invented by our friend Kurray and some other guys. Possibly including Randal. Matt helped make the board a couple years ago. The board they’re playing on has elevated squares in a roughly pyramid shape, and the corners are decorated each with tropical island, Antarctic, desert, and jungle scenes. No idea how it’s played. I always lose chess. And Hearts. And Gin. And… well, everything but scrabble and connect four.

Back to the “grind…”

the great Utah Valley tattoo controversy? Updated

UPDATE: So there are a few rumors floating around that I am working with the Utah Valley tattoo artist community to smooth out before this article will be published. Thankfully, the editors at the paper have decided this coming issue will be about saving money, so they’ll publish the tattoo article in the next one. Whew. Buys me some time…

Original Post:

Okay, so I can’t spill the big secret just yet because I wrote about it for the Review. But you will get the link to the article just as soon as it’s published in about 6 days.

When I set out to write an article on the Salt Lake City National Tattoo Convention, I didn’t expect to find a controversy. I expected to find Utah Valley artists, and when there weren’t any and I set out to find out why, I found a bit more than I bargained for.

Now, it’s nothing grandiose or horrid- it’s just a regional matter that happens to leave bruised feelings and snobbery in its wake. And I felt like I should stand up for my folks- the entire Utah Valley, pretty much.
As I was investigating, I made a few stops, first to Painted Temple Tattoo, where my longtime friend Dan was working on Oak, his colleague and a popular local artist:

Then I went to visit their friends at Death or Glory, where I ended up really getting the “scoop” from Anjuli, whom I’d met at a few parties at mutual friend’s places before. Their studio is one of the newer ones:

(not my photo)

Finally, I went to Randal and Kurray’s, who weren’t home, but I got some funny looks from their chickens:

Then Randal and I played phone tag for a bit before I finally got him and explained what I’d found out. He was rather taken aback.

Last night, Fox 13 Meteorologist Jodi Saeland showed one of my pictures on the news! The wind had been blowing from the East- the opposite from the norm- and it caused some huge billows of blowing snow on the mountain peaks. She explained that it was caused by the jet stream being unusually low. I think it was this one they showed:

(Remember, those trees are HUGE).

I also took these:

Finally, a note.

I don’t care what faith you subscribe to or if you have no religion at all. But if you’re going to dis on other people for their beliefs (or lack thereof), you might want to be informed of the facts.

Tuesday morning after my Archaeology class, one of the students was complaining about the current scientific use of C.E. and B.C.E. as opposed to the former faith- based use of B.C. and A.D., and that he “doesn’t know what to believe,” reading about Neanderthals and such, because according to what he believes, the world should only be about 9,000 years old. I informed him that the Christian timeline is not the only one there ever was- the Chinese are celebrating the year 4707, the Muslims are celebrating AH 1430. “Who are we to tell them what year it is?” I asked him.

So he comes up with, “I have to ask people who don’t believe, how do you measure time? Do you believe that it’s Tuesday, February the 17th?” He gave me a sneer. I informed him that the months are named for Roman emporors, the days of the week for Roman gods. “Of course, I believe it’s February,” I told him.

I wonder if HE does, anymore.

Time for me to make some tea and get ready for a big homework day tomorrow.

One Anti- Schmoozer

If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s a brown- nose. Or even worse, the people who think they deserve brown-nosed attention.
I don’t care who you are. If you’ve profoundly earned my respect- and I can name many, many people who have- I’ll talk to you like I talk to anyone else, though I’ll most likely look up to you more than the average friend. If you’re a stranger on the street, I’ll smile at you and say hello. If you’re a bum, I’ll smile and say hello. If you’re a self- important, arrogant ass, I’ll treat you like an equal anyway– and if you don’t like it go to hell.

You might be wondering what brought this on.

So I go to work this morning, leave for an appointment (of sorts), find it delayed for a half hour abouts, and decide to go back and help a little at work in the meantime. Two new people are in the office- one girl I know a little and one whom I don’t know at all. She is blond and Swedish and talks with an accent. “This was the worst weekend of my LIFE!” She exclaims. She goes on about losing her wallet and having to call the credit card company to have them wire her some cash so she can get home. Then she hits a snow storm on the way back. “You know how the big trucks spray water all over?!”
“Yeah,” I said,” I hate how it freezes to the windshield…”
“Excuse me,” she practically snapped, as if I wasn’t invited into the conversation, even though she’d spoken in my direction. “It baptized me!” She went on for a bit about California and the celebrities she knows and the ones she met. And mentioned she was studying screen writing, and some guy at NBC has one of her sitcoms and likes it and might do something with it someday.
Cue the schmoozer.
“Oooh, I love screen writing!! I’ve written a couple of…” schmooze schmooze, ask for advice, schmooze some more…
“I write, but I’m not really into screen writing,” I mention offhand.
“Screen writing is simple, stupid,” says Her Highness the Swedish movie- star- acquaintance, as casually as can be, and chatted on. But I wasn’t listening anymore. I finished what I was doing and left. The schmoozer continued to schmooze.

Like I mentioned, I don’t care who you are. You can be the king of Patagonia or the orphan child of beggars; a business owner or just the guy who brings the mail. You’re all just humans to me, and I’m a human, so to me we’re all the same. Until you decide to be a bitch.

Then you’re NOBODY to me.

Now for the better part of my morning. I was driving home on the back roads, got stuck behind a slow- moving train, turned around… and pulled off to the side of the road to take these pictures of frolicking horses.

(is it just me, or does this one look like he’s smiling?)

It’s hopeless.

I’ve been trying to get this paper done for weeks. I’ve finally gotten almost 5 pages! But my ADD is not helping. When I study/ write/ work, I have to have perfect silence. I work best in the late morning to late afternoon. I was looking forward to being done by this weekend. But then, something happened.

The schools decided to make it a four day weekend.

Not only are the kids bouncing around like Mexican jumping beans with me squawking “We have neighbors downstairs!” at them every five minutes, but they keep bringing their friends over.

Ana’s longtime friend Ripley (since grade school), whom Ana goes to Idaho with on occasion, is over right now. She brought her dog, which is tied up outside and looking miserable, so she keeps checking up on her, but I’d still prefer if she’d take it home so my cat will stop freaking out whenever they open the door. Apparently, Ripley’s dad is something of a stunt expert. Ana and Ripley have been in training, it seems, and are doing their best to be athletic- but of course it’s too COLD outside, so they’re being healthy and athletic all over the place in HERE. Meanwhile, Arielle feels it necessary to talk at 20 times the recommended decibel to people standing two feet away, and Mekare is interjecting with little songs and arguments. They’re all arguing. About anything they can. -sigh-

I tried to do a little more research. I failed. I tried proofreading. My chair got bumped three times. I can’t really afford to give up, especially as there is no school for the kids tomorrow, of course (in honor of MLK) and I have classes all day after that.

On the bright side, I did get some cool pictures today. It was supposed to be 21 degrees for a low. They lied. It was 9. But everything was completely covered in frost crystals, so I braved the elements and walked around the block and took these:

In other news… my sister, knowing of my flailing attempts at organization, made me a pretty little receipt- keeper book. How did she know?! I’ve got receipts floating all over the place like kleenex at a wedding! Finally I have something to put them in, that will fit on my desk shelf:

Finally, one last picture for the day (until something else grabs me)- Why Ana Never Finished her Coffee:

the (unintended) powers of suggestion

I’ve been having issues with my writing. Especially writing songs and poems, like I used to do regularly and fluidly. Even people who hated my guts (because I wouldn’t sleep with them, but that’s a rant for another day) had to admit that my lyrics were the shit. But lately, every time I try to write lyrics or poems, they suck.

About seven years ago, I wrote this poem when I was with Ross, imagining what things would be like for me if I stayed with him:

Now I lay me down to sleep
In the box my body keeps
Since I died before I’d wake
there’s one less chance I’ll have to take.

I wasted my life loving you
in spite of all you put me through
Now I see where I went wrong
But I waited way too long.

Alone at night I always slept
this habit follows me in death
But at last I’ll wait no more
Like a dog beside the door.

Silent, still now, all is peace
Silence I still have at least
A friend in sorrow, pain, and loss
Here is life without the gloss.

Death now follows all regret
Finally I’ve passed one test
I may be dead, but now I see
I should have lived my life for me.

(forgot two lines)
My night descends, my journey starts
I hope, this time, that I’ll go far.

It’s a long story, for another time, what I went through for four years with that guy. And his asshole friends who covered his cheating ass and spread lots of rumors… another time. But anyway, it suddenly hit me yesterday why I can no longer write such deep, intriguing stuff.

I’m no longer miserable.

I actually have a full life, a loving marriage to a wonderful husband who treats me like gold, and I have no time nor reason to pine over how fucked up everything is. Because, for me, it really isn’t.

Reflecting on the necessity of suffering to write good material may have triggered a bad cosmic reflex, though, because today started off sucky. I tossed and turned all night and finally fell asleep at 3 am, to wake up at 7, then jump in the shower before Matt got a text from his boss saying that yes, he did need to come in to work. So I made us both late. The heavy bag on wheels that I drag around, with its half ton of books and a laptop in it, was an encumbrance to the nth degree when I discovered the elevators in the LA building were not working. On my fourth trip back up the stairs, the handle broke. I got my first two classes mixed around, and showed up to the wrong classroom at the wrong time, and didn’t figure it out until about 2pm. I had to drop one class and add another, and this ended up requiring paperwork. Then I got a text from the next hour’s teacher, informing me that our class room had been changed. So I went to class- and it was not my class. It turned out, they’d given her the wrong information. But I managed to get everything done. I just missed two classes. Argh. My legs HURT from trying to maneuver that bag around. Unfortunately, I didn’t get out of school until an hour after Matt got off work, so he walked home- and believe me, it’s NOT a short walk. It’s about five miles. So he was cranky and really didn’t want to hear me complain about MY legs hurting.

My camera is a beauty. I love the clarity I’m getting, and can’t wait to take my awesome zoom/ macro lens to the mountains. For now…

This morning’s almost- sunrise in Mapleton:

A baby guinea pig we haven’t named yet:

the salt and pepper mills Matt lathed for me:

a club of tulip wood Matt lathed for his boss:

The latch on the box I keep my jewelry- making stuff in:

Autumn Colors and Mockingbird Fly

Yesterday, I told Matt I needed to go hiking. I’d been warned about a storm coming in within 24 hours, and I didn’t want to lose all my fall colors- I’d already watched the mountains turn from red to gold and had had no time to get to the mountains. So I took a little trip to Springville Canyon to take some pictures by Hobble Creek:

Then I got home and checked my MySpace page- and there was a bulletin from my friend Gage, asking if anyone wanted to go hiking in Alpine. So I emailed her back, and off we went, the tiny Tonya in tow.

Unfortunately, we never made it to where the good views are (hopefully we’ll do it next weekend), because I was reporting on the Ssejinja Children’s Foundation fund raiser, which focused on civil rights and the issue of race and what a pain it is. It was a beautiful, thought provoking show- even sitting through the children’s choir wasn’t so bad, because those kids are actually pretty damn good:

And so were all the other performers. I was very impressed, an thrilled to death that there were authentic African drummers and dancing!!

It was a great show. Unfortunately, I couldn’t complete the article until almost midnight, and the editora had failed to mention that they’d already taken pictures at the dress rehearsal. Not only that, but they wanted me to write the article about the event before it actually occurred- and that made it suck. So the sucky version will be in the printed paper, and the good version will be in the online version. I’ll put up the links when I get them.

I have a reputation?

Apparently, I do. I never thought anyone paid enough attention to me for that to occur. And guess what? It’s not a BAD reputation. It has nothing to do with my personal life at all, either. It has to do with my “chosen career” (HAHAHA- sorry, I had to laugh at that term, though I can’t think of a better way to put it). People seem to like my work. “People” as in the new editor- in- chief of the new UVU paper, his higher- ups, his lower- downs, and the folks from the morning show on a popular radio station, X96.

There was some sort of “yay it’s official, we’re UVU now” party at the school while I was out of town for my family reunion a few weeks ago. X96 was there, and when I talked to Jack (the editor- in- chief) yesterday, he told me they were SO hoping I would be there so they could interview me. This after they generously called me a nerd on statewide radio last term. Oh well, we’ll banter another time, I guess. X96 tends to cover UVU stuff whenever there’s something actually happening there. I’ll make it a point to drop in next time they show up.

I’ll be writing for the paper still, but now I get PAID for it! All I have to do is join the rest of the (peons) writers on Mondays to stuff ads in the papers, attend the staff meetings, and- oh yeah- write articles before the deadlines.

Sounds good to meeee….