July 31, 2009

Weekend Road Trip

Think I will take a drive this afternoon.... Just me and Re-Run.  Jackson, the bird, will have to stay in his cage.  We have put him on watch duty while we are gone.  Maybe I should teach him something clever to say in case someone comes knocking on the door.  
Weekend Road Trip: Jackson on patrol
Sigh, where to go?  I don’t necessarily need to go far. The mission is to step out of my norm and hopefully discover what has come over me.  A mini breather will be good for me. 

View Larger Map

PERFECT, my destination is Hope Texas!  See you tomorrow, Hope!

Weekend Road Trip: on the road (by Kayla)

July 26, 2009

Slow Motioned Pigeons

I don’t know if it is something that happens at this age or the times we are living in or what!!!  But I have been seeing things in slow-motion lately.  When the pigeons fly out from under a bridge...  time seems to slow down.  When the guy who spins signs at the cell-phone store down the street,  it seems to spin extra slow now.  
I have taken note of my hands, my fingers, each strand of hair on my head.  I have never been this way before.  I use to be easily satisfied and pre-occupied... was never the book worm artsy type.  I kind of felt sorry for those girls.  Now I am thinking they were on to something.  I have prided myself in believing that I am “good”... that I help people.  I never realized that I do care about money and material possessions.  I care about them and am incarcerated by them.  My friends come by and enjoy them with me then go back to their lives.  I am no different than the pigeons or the thug spinning signs on the street side.  

We have all tricked ourselves into thinking we are good...  that we are in a position to help the ones who are “lost” or not as well off.  Meanwhile we can’t even look ourselves in the eye.  Maybe that is why Re-Run keeps staring at me, through me.  Maybe she is waiting for me to really exist.  Maybe she is waiting for me to become a real live girl.

Slow Motioned Pigeons : a real live girl

July 25, 2009

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation

I could EAT.... or I could WRITE.  I could stay or I could go.  

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation: on the road
Should I stay or should I go now”, 
this is the current question.  I think I need to get away from the city..  Maybe even out of the country for a while.  I can’t just sit here going in circles.  I am tired of being a lost puppy and I want to be a wolf.  I want to see new things and maybe find myself, as they say, along the way.  

Europe has been calling my name.  So I am thinking about taking a trip there.  It would be nice to live there for a period of time.  I have yet to dislike any thing that came out of Spain and I wonder if everyone can feel that burning flame deep in their gut.  It’s a flame that is rapidly turning into a fire inside of me.  

When The Caretaker Goes On Vacation: the burning inside
All my life I just help others.  I am a caretaker.  I helped my parents, my grandparents, the neighbors, kids, my pets, other people’s pets, random boyfriends and friends who all eventually move on.  They get married (not the pets of course)....  But the friends I have had.  They have all gotten married, come out of all sorts of closets, moved to other towns, other states.  Some have had kids.  They own houses and grow their own vegetables in their backyards or they drive SUVs and enroll their sons in sports.  My parents have moved.  My grandparents have passed and my fantastic Aunt Gaggy has passed.  I don’t even know where my baby brother is half of the time and even Sweet Kayla has joined the Peace Corps.  I know there is a greater meaning in life, I want to find mine, a small justification for my existence. Making everyone smile all the time is fine and all.  But it’s becoming harder for me to do anyway.  

July 24, 2009

The Bad Bathroom Spaghetti Western

Well....  the music has lifted my spirits while I am still waiting for the Sun to show her face.  



I have gone face to face with myself in the bathroom mirror a few times and it feels like a bad spaghetti western.  I have been contemplating the notion of depression and have to wonder if we perpetuate it by insisting that I am, You are, we all are Depressed.  The thing is... 

“You can’t run from yourself.”  Life is wild when a look in the mirror feels like a high noon draw, holsters at the hip and heavy spurs on the heel.  Elvis Presley singing some well known tune in the background as you meet yourself face to face hesitant to peek out from under your hat.  Is this depression or is it simply a new perception?

Re-Run is learning to “speak” and sounds like she is saying “I love you” a lot. I love her too! I have volunteered to take care of a neighbors bird this week and I think the two of them talk when I am out.(Just to add more strangeness to the scene, ha),  The bird is a Cockatoo and he is a hoot.  Strange Days.... These days are strange.  Me, music, a wolf-dog,a borrowed bird, and imaginary gun holsters hanging around my hips.  All the while, still an unexplainable longing to go somewhere or do something. 

Maybe it’s the weather.  Texas is so bi-polar.  She waits until everyone is parched and half-minded to turn to whiskey before bringing the rain.  Then when she brings it, the relief is mixed with confusion.  A little sprinkle here, a little sprinkle there.  Then boom, have some thunder and lightning.  This all tangled up with filtered sunshine, humidity and temperatures that get into the triple digits.  
(This has been your weather girl Rachel Perkins once again... BANG, BANG YALL)

July 23, 2009


Hot and Dry, Hot and Dry ...  

I am bored with this weather.  I am bored with this city.  Re-run is bored with this city.  I feel like there is a pissed off little girl scratching at my insides to get out... GET OUT!!!  


My friend told me that I was a “Poster child for those commercials”... You know the commercials they show on T.V. to determine whether you are depressed or not.  Maybe I am depressed.  Maybe, just maybe we are all depressed on some level or another at this point.  Maybe I am even Manic. I thought I had kicked this dark-goth like cloud out of orbit.  What gives?!  And why is she suddenly picking up on this thing?  I am torn between really listening to what she has to say and having something to say about her, it, this thing.

My own skin has become uncomfortable.  

Everyone has always liked being around me.  I was always the one they would call when they were down or having problems.  I did everything I could and I liked being that way.  But now I can’t help feeling like there is no room for me to be sad... no space for me to be down.  When I do...  it lets all of them down and that kills me.  I am the one who set it up like this though... not them!  I proclaimed myself “kind and nurturing”.  I wrapped myself in this wholesome identity so tight. Now I can’t even begin to tell you who I am.  I only have ideas of who I have been and who I am suppose to become, nothing more.... JUST IDEAS. I refused to express sadness and chose to laugh about tragedy, especially my own.

I feel like a bird in an egg that could crack any day.  
POSTER CHILD: the spinning of my "mitote"

I am a Dali sketch never published.  I am a reflection behind years of smoke.  I cannot even see myself.  There is no way I could even begin to explain myself to anyone.  On top of that, I’m not sure if explaining myself should be a goal in itself.  My little brother said that we are all born selfish.  It was a philosophy in which I argued passionately against.  Not until now have I looked at it differently and considered that he may have been right.  


July 21, 2009

These Soundtrack Days

These Soundtrack Days: The Record Spins

If these days had a soundtrack

what songs would be playing now?  Details are not in yet.  However I know that the diversity would be great, ranging from carnival tunes:

to old country tunes: 

 and a little bit of angry music thrown in it.  

It used to be that we watched movies and read the magazines.  We got excited about MTV and Vogue.  Now, there is hardly any time for that and our lives have become badly written pop songs geared toward teeny boppers who write poetry on their shoes and think Shakespeare is nothing more than a facebook page.   Oh my, could it be that I am becoming one of those people who quotes Shakespeare and carries around collections of poets.  

Ha, I suddenly remembered some painter friends I had in my early twenties who painted on old pizza boxes because they could not afford the canvas.  I still have one of them hanging in my living room.  It’s really cool actually and I had it framed last year.  

These Soundtrack Days: Water is Life

As for me lately, 

I have had 2 or 3 dreams about water.  They are so real that I could probably paint them on an old pizza box if I had the hand for it. 

Things are fine.... 

why I am so moody?  Is this some sort of Karma?  I suppose I have always been more comfortable around animals than people.  But I have been social, loving, helpful.... I have tried to be a good friend, a hard worker, someone who sees things positively...... haven’t I?  

How can things be so beautiful one moment and so painfully meaningless the next.  

I need to either take a break or get busier.  Either way, something’s gotta give.

July 19, 2009

Standard Time

Seriously!!!!  Am I always the first one to get up these days?!!  
The throw down 
went pretty good last night.  The guy I met at the snow cone stand didn’t come by and I found myself thinking of him time to time.  I never caught his name so he will forever be known as “the guy at the snow cone stand.”  I wondered what his story was and why I met him and felt like I had known him for millions of years.  Thinking about him made the room slow down around me.  There were moments, brief milli-seconds where I felt exempt from standard time.  It was strange and similar to that feeling triggered by this “new” reflection of my self in the mirror.  It was similar, yet happier. 

I watched as friends and friends of friends gathered in my flat.  

They laughed and danced.  They were beautiful, all of them. That was last night of course.  Judging by the drool falling from their mouths this morning I would say they may have drank more than I did last night.  I keep trying to tell them that wine is for sipping... not tripping.  But they had a good time and smiled a lot.  It was, again, worth it. 

Standard Time: Sippin' 

Got a lot to do today.... still waiting for the sun to show her hot face.  I guess she is worn out too.  It is 10:13am and no Sun.  Just clouds.  Looks like I will have to get things done around the house.  
(“Weather girl, Rachel Perkins... bringing real weather to real people!” ~wink)  She strikes again!!!!

July 18, 2009


Interesting day.

It was hot and sunny again.  Although some clouds have begun to move back in. (courtesy of your faithful weather girl, Rachel Perkins).

Dreamsicle: Time

I woke up early... 
before the alarm even went off.  So I made some coffee for everyone and left before they all woke up.  I thought it would be nice for them to wake up to the smell of coffee.   mmmmmmm  I love a good cup of Jo.

Dreamsicle: Jo
It wasn't too blazing hot 
(wearing my shorts and another tank) to go rollerblading down Avenue E before the city 
got too busy.  I took the wolf pack for a ride.....or should I say that they took me for a ride.  Ringo, Rascal, and of course Re-run are the dogs at the kennel with wolf breed in them.  The newest edition, Starr, still has some growing up to do before she becomes part of the roller blading excursions.  

I didn’t take them out yesterday with the others so I decided to let them pull me.  It has become a favorite past time of mine... And they seem to enjoy it.  I held on to all three of the leashes as they pulled me.  They are built for this kind of team work.  It was a blast!!!!  I noticed that the New Orleans Style shaved Ice trailer was open.  We stopped in for a couple, one dreamsicle for me and a bowl of shaved ice for them. They know us there. When I was sitting at the picnic table minding my own business...  enjoying my dreamsicle, a guy approached me. 

He seemed like your typical frat boy reject at first.  

Then he said he liked the dogs and that he had a timber wolf at home that was a rescue from Colorado.  He said that since he has gotten the wolf that he feels better about life.  That got my attention.  We talked for a good fifteen minutes and without really knowing me, he seemed to know me very well.  He slightly reminded me of my baby brother, Jon Michael and I have not felt that connected with anyone since Kayla.  He told me that he thought I was an old soul and that it’s okay to cry sometimes.  Geeeeesh...  he picked up on this thing that has recently revealed itself to me.  

Anyhow, I invited him to the party tonight.  But I have a feeling it’s not his cup of tea.  The girls are all getting ready in the other room.  I can hear them giggling and gushing over each others new dresses, skinny jeans and eighties styled t-shirts. I was going to get a new outfit today. Guess I forgot. I got plenty of garb to wear anyhow.  I hope the party goes well.  I really want to get my groove on and make another weekend count!!!  

July 16, 2009

We Were Girls Together

I have been sooo busy.  

It has been a while since I have journaled/written.  (Boy things sure have come a long way since those teddy bear diaries with the lock and key)...  Mom got me one of those for Valentines day when I was seven or so.  I loved it and wrote in it religiously every day...  I never missed a day even if I wrote something stupid or just drew a happy face.  Actually, I have never been much of a writer and mostly doodled or wrote down words to songs I liked.

Things change when a girl grows up.  

We Were Girls Together: growing up
                  Seems like just yesterday that I was bare breasted and boyish playing ball with the boys and skateboarding without any fear of the “girls” coming out to play.  I miss that.  I miss the days that came a few years later after the arrival of such atrocities that accompany womanhood when I babysat little Kayla.  We were girls together.  We washed and fixed each others hair and I taught her dance moves.  We had so much fun.  I have been thinking about those old days lately and I have been thinking about her.  I have been thinking about myself... my true self.  What was up with that woman staring back at me in the mirror.  What’s missing?

Today is the first day in over a week that I have had time to be at home.  

I have been gazing out my third floor apartment window.  The hussle and bussle goes on without me.   I’m glad Re-Run is here with me now.  She stares at me intensely and I feel safe when she is around.  She is different than the other dogs... more self sufficient and more human.  I hardly ever have to give her commands or call her.  She is just here naturally.   

She is my Shawnodese.  

I feel strongly that she is meant to be with me and I think about what the lady at the kennel said that day, 
“they pick you, you don’t pick them”.  

Hmmmmm, indeed and I am thankful.  

Shawnodese is a spirit keeper 
                                                                         in some native american cultures.  Kayla got into that a while back.  I will never forget her telling me about my totem poles and what “clan” we belonged to.  I giggled at her back then.  I thought it was cute.  Now I’m curious.  I will have to look more up on it when I get time.

July 12, 2009



It’s 8:13 in the morning and I’m up.  Don’t have to work.... but I’m awake.  Yesterday was relaxing and the ride home after mexican food to cure us of our previous night’s unintentional drunkeness (hey, we don’t want to get hit on, but we still let them buy us drinks, what can I say?) was soooo pleasant.  

Re-Run: Gaggy's Scooter
I love my scooter.  It’s one of several great gifts from Aunt Gaggy.  

Today is “easy like Sunday morning- think I’ll put that album on” kind of day.  I can tell already.  The coffee is extra delightful and I finally feel like I am getting back to my “old” self despite the new lines and recently discovered grey hairs.

There is a wolf-breed at work 

that I have grown attached too.  I have always gotten attached to the animals that come in... animals in general.  But there is something special about her.  I named her Re-Run and she is part of the famous “wolf-pack” (what all the gals nick named the group of wolf-breeds at the kennel).  She came in when she was a pup and I was the first to feed her, walk her and bathe her.  She shivered and growled some when anyone else would get close to her at first.  Now she’s a little over a year old and doesn’t growl at anyone.  

I have been thinking about bringing her home with me 

after an older woman came in the other day with her niece to look for dogs and asked me if I knew much about wolves.  I have learned things here and there just like with all the other breeds.  This wasn’t what she was referring to though.  “You know they pick you.... you don’t pick them”... then she grabbed her nieces hand and continued to look at other dogs.  On her way out she saw me playing with Re-Run and said, “Looks like she picked YOU.”  She smiled big.  They had adopted a little lab puppy and I’m sure that he was in good hands.  Anyhow, it’s been a minute since that lady had come in.  But I have been thinking about what she said every day.  

Today’s the day!! I am going in to get Re-Run and bring her home with me!!!!!  I guess I'll have to take my car...

July 11, 2009


Me and some of the gals from work decided to go take a load off.  The week was a hard one… busy and a bit of an emotional roller coaster as we all worried about Roth.  Then we got so happy when he came to and began to play again.  We also got several new strays in (one is a baby mutt with some wolf in him).  It just seemed to be a really heavy week.  So we went roller-skating at the old rink and then dancing downtown!  Man, did I need that!  

Skating: drinks! & dancing
Sometimes it’s just good to be with other girls/women and have fun.  Yes, that Cindy Lauper tune, stands true through the test of time.  Of course, men can’t help but try when a group of women are around.  But our motive in going out was not to be picked up or hit on... strange terms aren’t they?  What woman really wants to be “picked up” or “hit on”... Which comes first,  the hitting or the picking up.. 


Sigh~  it was a blast last night. 

It was so much fun that this pounding headache is nearly justified.  Better get some greasy Mexican food before I return to the dark and dreary rabbit hole hungover!!!  I’m not sure if I remember who invented the American calendar.  But Thank Goodness for the weekends.  

I wish Kayla could go with us on nights like that and I hope that she is doing well.  It’s hard to let go of the few people I have gotten close with.  She would have had fun, fun, fun!!!  I still remember teaching her how to skate when she was a little girl.  Lol...  But she still can’t skate very well really!! Ha ..  Pretty unbelievable that she is all grown up and in Africa now. 


July 06, 2009

Who Am I to Complain?

Wow...  I had to step out and away from myself for a couple of days!  What was that morbid goth-like spell that came over me?

 The closest I ever got to that was those few months back in high school....... (that I never told anyone about but that weird poet girl).  I really needed her at that time though and had forgotten about all of that until these last days.  My trip down the dark rabbit hole did not go too deep and I imagine that people who think like that constantly must have a really hard time functioning in day-to-day society.  Just a brush with it threw me off and now I am playing catch up!!  Besides that experience during my teenage years, I have not viewed life in that way and in fact had a hard time understanding why some people lean more that way.  I had a few “deep” friends back in the day.  But we have not been in touch.  I have kept busy with work and volunteering at the local shelter.  I have put so much on my plate that I do not have time to wonder what else is going on or how fucked up everything is.  

Those old cliché phrases we heard over and over again from our grandparents were true.  “Idle hands are the Devil’s playground” or “Be thankful for what you have” or “... there are kids starving in Africa!!!”   My Grandpa used to laugh when he talked about the Great Depression.  He said that “If you didn’t have much to loose in the first place, then it didn’t really hit you so hard.”  It was impressive to me that he could laugh when talking about such hard times.  It really struck a chord in me and I figure if they can laugh about damn near starving and becoming orphans, 

Who Am I to Complain: a return to innocence  

then my generation could laugh through our hardships.  The homeless at the shelter never talk to me about hard times.  They just get in line and wait to get some warm food.  Anyway, who am I to complain?

I think this guy has it all figured out!!!