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Travel-blog: Toronto, CA: Day One

The drive this morning was easy and I have been able to chill with both Ninja Boy & BananaEggy to talk shop, writing, & life. Additionally, a visit to the most amazingly talented photography studio Dreamcast where Ninjaboy purchased some lovely prints of Emm Gryner.

Am now anticipating madness & mayhem among xanga-ites.
In company currently are: Ninjaboy, Bananaeggy, Lofty (the gracious host, mad props), Kirby, , Winnie, Karen, Alex, Leon, Corina, Francis, and who knows who else might pop in.

Tomorrow, dimsum w/ GTA Bloggers as coordinated by Rannie.

Travel-blog: Livonia, Michigan Day Three.

And what was *your* thanksgiving like?
Wake up.
Eat Turkey.
Nap.
Rinse.
Repeat.

Somewhere amidst that cycle there is the inclusion of scaring your parents and tier church friends with your familiarity with drag queens and gay club culture. Eat pumpkin pie afterwards and grin.

Highlight of the day:
Drinking a beer the size of my head (32 ounces from Champ, the sportsbar in town)
Giggling and talking trash with the crush you had in 5th grade whom you’ve recently reacquainted yourself with.He found me because of this.

Missed Connections:
Cel Phone missed connections with Dave & lovely Amy. Totally a bummer. Bad timing with trying to hook up with Tony from SB1 as well.
There will be a next time. I promise!

Hmph.
Dunno when my comments stopped working. Damn it.
Sorry! Will fix when I get back to SF and get my tech support/slave to help me sort it out.

Yes, I still date for tech support. And it’s pretty grand.

Travel-blog: Livonia, Michigan Day Two.

I purchased a car adaptor charger for my cel phone at a tanning bed/cel place. Yes…a hybrid joint where the trendy wannabees listen to Kylie Minogue while they rice out their phones & get a tan. With a title like “Tan Cellular” I thought it was a Chinese joint. Alas no, all the Chinese owned businesses are apparently really bad Chinese restaurants titled something like “Lings Buffet” and “Chopstix & Rice”. I wish I were kidding.

Visit to the cemetery to give props to Mom. After skipping over the headstones of the Dicewiczes, Lewellens, and Parzukowskis and feeling the crunch of grass that has been laced with frost, I prostrated myself at her grave, gave thanks, said a prayer, and had a lovely little conversation with my Mom. As usual, she scolded me for still being single, having too many bad habits, and not cleaning my room regularly. She loves me though. And I never forget that.

I had a good laugh that after 4 years my Dad & Stepmom finally spotted my tattoo. “What is *THAT*?” asked my stepmom. Horangi “A tiger…for the year I was born…Horangi-di”. My dad just said “Aigooo” and shook his head. Stepmom spanked me on the butt only once for it. Note to self, apparently the statute of limitations for seriously yelling at me for mischievous behaviors like getting a tattoo is four years. And a computer.

Dinner with the lovely Kate who has inspired me to be more aggressive in pursuing my artistic/writing potential. She’s brilliant, lovely, and funny as all hell. A true sister and I love that I have another great gal pal to hang with when I’m in Michigan.

A visit up to Lansing with an old college friend. We had great talks re: philosophy/religion, spirituality, emotional intelligence/maturity and other good stuff along those lines. The bar we went to was overwhelmingly blonde. Blondes as far as the eye could see. Blondes drinking bud light no less. Some things never change.

Note to self: Be thankful for friends who give you baked goods. Last night was a chocolate chip cookie fest with the best pal. Tonight J. gave me a homemade baked banana walnut bread.

Happy Thanksgiving! Pull out the fat pants, yo!

Travel-blog: Livonia, Michigan Day One.

Details:
* The flight was easy where I slept and barely woke up in time for feedings & such. Which makes me feel like a farm animal.
* Detroit’s Airport has gone absolutely fabu since I first moved from here 6 years ago. I’d take a date there.
* It’s a bitch waiting in the cold for the car rental shuttle to come getcha.
* It’s snowing. I like it. The cold air against my cheek makes me feel both shivery and very alive.

Differences:
* SF is and the bay area in general is curvy like my ass and belly unlike Michigan which is as flat as my chest.
* There are sooo many white people in Livonia. I mean really. Wow. White people everywhere.
* No vanity plates in Michigan. How refreshing.
* Every stripmall looks like every other stripmall for about a 10 mile radius around my home. I could get lost easily using them as landmarks.

Disappointments:
* I’ve missed the changing of the leaves and they’re already all on the ground.
* The trees are naked and look like thin, taut house wives who’ve had too many martinis.
* There are no thuggy white kids rapping next to the 8 mile road sign near my home.

Delights:
* Setting up my dad’s brand new computer and watching him grin like a little kid as he takes a mouse in hand for the very first time.
* Eating my step mom’s cooking. Damn good stuff. *DAMN* good stuff.
* Baking chocolate chip cookies and sharing good talks & memories with my best friend of over 20 years. Yes, over 20 years.
* Spotting a boy from Catholic Central with his varsity jacket on. *Man* Did I used to crush on those types of boys 10 years ago or so. It still makes my toes curl in giggly delight.

I’m Off!

I just spent two hours packing and four hours completely frivolously. *grin* It’s the holidays and I’ve packed my fat pants. See you in a few. Loads of adventures when I come back. Lots of film and I’m going both Digital & Lomo in photography adventures in recklessness.I wanted to put up my Galaxy Girls gallery up before I head out but I’m afraid it’ll have to wait. I’m pooped. More soon.

Hey Ernie,

There is hope for you yet.

*giggle*

1. “Hey do you wanna watch a movie? I got Porky’s 1 & 2 from Netflix today.”
2. The drawer I carried to help a very modest and sweet friend move was utterly empty except for one red packaged condom.

3. How to shut up a bum. Steal his punchline. (In the most cracked out voice possible from the bum) “Hey, what’s the difference between a trick & a john?” (Me, shouting as I avoid his panhandling) “Twenty bucks and penicillin” I think I caught him off guard with this answer. He just looked at me stunned, and then started laughing.
4. Watching the performance of “Sweet Thing” by the Miss Asian American Idol pop star winner Bobbi.
5. The parking attendant *winked* at me. *Winked* at me.
6. The smell of clean laundry. Yay.
7. An email that made me grin from the inside out. I’ve felt a little grinny tingle glow all day.
8. A very special email note with an inspirational quote from a good friend of mine and lovely, I mean lovely, lady.

So here goes…get ready for yer spritual whuppin’!

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our darkness, that most frightens us.”

“We ask ourselves, ‘Who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous, talented and fabulous?’ Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn’t serve the world. There’s nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won’t feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the Glory of God that is within us. It is not just in some of us; it is in everyone. And as we let our own Light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same. As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others.”

-Nelson Mandela

I’ll be seeing Ivy at tomorrow’s Galaxy Girls ho-down performance. If you can make it, do come. It’s always a grand grand pleasure.

9. Last but not least, I became the superhero to underaged pootytang at the club. Yours trully, singlehandedly fixed the one of the three toilets whilst a line a block long stood anxiously cross legged. I fix the toilet. I get to pee first.

Travel Plans:
Tues-Thursday back home in Michigan:
Fri-Sunday over in Toronto
Monday back in Michigan

Am currently gelling plans to visit with folks.
Wheee!

Last night’s dream?

Your soft kiss on my eyelids.

What the hell does it mean when you dream about throwing cole slaw (with extra mayo) into the lap of your most hated ex-boyfriend? And when you follow this up with squeezing grapes & black olives onto the over processed hair of his new girlfriend?

Wack. I stopped caring about that guy *years* ago. *YEARS* ago. Too weird. Makes me want to avoid both cole slaw and olives for a while.

Not the least of which is my state of emotional stability. I think I’m either coming off of bad vicodine induced dream sequences or over indulging the transitions in my life. Or hormones. One can always place blame hormones.

Like the other night, I had a dream that you were hosting some sort of genius minds conference in Lausanne, Switzerland at the Palace Beau Rivage. Which really is nothing less than a palace. I was a bellhop but trying to impress and with so few staff on hand, I wound up checking in an odd assortment of brilliant luminaries. And I felt special in their company…deemed worthy of being in their presence by serving them. And as they were your guests, by serving you. One gentlemen looked like you but had an extravagant mustache and smelled like cinnamon sticks and nutmeg. I could feel the air move when you turned your head from across the room and my hair whistle against my ear. He was not you. And when you greeted him with a hearty handshake, I saw this clearly. You weren’t yourself either and you failed to recognize me though I knew, distinctly, exactly who you were.

And last night… well last night, I went to bed early, also confused…and well.. didn’t sleep as well as I’d like either. Last night I dreamt of other strange things. Like a discussion. A laugh. A turned back. And a slow walk away. I did not like this dream either. It reminded me of things in real life from times past.

And tonight? Tonight I’m hoping for a night off from dreaming.

I’d like my mind to undress privately, unburden itself from weary shackles and step lightly,y nude, from it’s clumsy encasing. I’d like my mind to dance above my head for a moment or two before flitting up into the sky to stare closely at the moon, full and bright and lovely. I’d love my mind to lean down close to the moon, and lick it… tasting a liqueur that is not unlike wild clover honey. I’d like my mind to come back to me in the morning, refreshed, and calm, comfortable in it’s supernatural possibilities and it’s natural realities.

Yes. I’d prefer that quite a bit.

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****
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Don’t dwell on reality; it will only keep you from greatness.
- Rev. Randall R. McBride, Jr.

Only those who dare to fail greatly can ever achieve greatly
- Robert Kennedy

They only recognize greatness when some authority confirms it.
- Calvin and Hobbes

I figured that if I said it enough, I would convince the world that I really was the greatest.
- Muhammad Ali

I’m pondering the notion of greatness. Are there opportunities left, in this world, in this generation, in this lifetime for greatness. Can I be great? Do I have the balls to take tremendous risk? Am I passionate? Am I driven? Am I innovative enough to reach for the heavens and find myself comfortably tip-toe-ing amidst clouds? Is this what it takes to be truly great? Do I have it in me? I ask myself these questions…and there’s really not much of a response other than that of my stomach grumbling or of crickets out in the distance. Can I ever achieve greatness? And I mean that in all the epic and romantic possibilities that one wraps around such a term. Greatness.

I mean Greatness.

For myself, not by virtue of talent or intelligence or physical capability. Nor by ingenuity or imagination. I am fairly ordinary and I am comfortable with that. Actually, if you talk to me in person, I’m actually fairly arrogant but only on small matters that make me unique, entertaining, or memorable…not necessarily *great*. Take for instance this most recent conversation.

Him: (looking at me and giggling)
Moi: “What are you laughing at?”
Him: “You… you’re so cute.”
Moi: “Why yes, I know I am.”
Him: (guffawing) “And so humble too”
Moi: “Only about my beauty”
Him: (trying to stifle further laughter)

This, while making me amusing, and sometimes disarming, charming, or laughable in hubris, does not make me great. Should we not all attempt greatness? Who still does? There are, it seems, more heroes in fiction than in the news. I wish it weren’t always so.

Them funny Canadians.

#1. Tune: C/O Austin
#2. Switch Ad c/o Kevin