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October 27, 2006

Giraffes? Giraffes!

A few days ago I made a beautiful discovery while scouring the discount books at Borders. At first I thought I had found a book I could tear apart and use for it's spare parts and images. But after actually looking into its pages, I realized I had found a gem of a coffee table book. The book is called Giraffes? Giraffes! and is a large hardcover about the size of the I Spy books.

At first glance it looks like one of those children's introduction to science books, but if you actually read the text (which you should, so go buy it now...), you will discover that it is all a big joke! I haven't laughed so hard in a long time. I knew I had to buy the book when I read this on the page titled "What Are Giraffes Made Of?": "The hooves of Giraffes are fashioned with a super-strong lightweight titanium alloy. That's what makes their hooves so fierce-looking yet soothing at the same time. You know what else is fierce-looking but also soothing? Soap."

And what makes it all that much better is that I only paid $2.99! Giraffes? Giraffes! is labeled "Volume I," and fortunately for us, there is a "Volume II" out as well. It's called Your Disgusting Head. Both books deserve a look, whether you buy them or not, they are a lot of fun.

Posted by libbystokes at 09:21 AM | Comments (2)

October 23, 2006

Little Did You Know

I'll bet you didn't know how important Public Radio has been for me. There are certain aspects of my upbringing that I proudly cite as important (and sometimes a little unusual) influences. The list includes: having grown up on 10 acres; having used power tools since I was a child; having learned how to sew well; having eaten delicious, beautiful and exotic foods; having lived in a forest and with snow; having driven a tractor; having built things by hand; having grown food in a garden; having been able to see the stars every night; etc.

I attribute my introduction and love for Public Radio to my Dad. Saturday mornings were often spent tinkering around in the garage, listening to Car Talk. Another garage favorite was A Prairie Home Companion. Also, during high school, every morning during the drive into town we always listened to Capital Public Radio for NPR. The little morning jingle of NPR and the familiar voices of Garrison Keillor and Tom and Ray Magliozzi will always evoke happy memories of time spent with Dad.

This American Life is another Public Radio show that I listened to growing up. And the primary motivation behind this post is to announce my joy upon learning that the This American Life podcast is now free! (As tender and special a memory it might illicit, I will not spent $1 a show.) So should you feel to join in on a special part of the Public Radio world, go to www.thislife.org or find the podcast through iTunes and sign up to get the show each week. Public Radio may have a rather nerdy reputation, but know that as long as I get reception I'll tune in.

Posted by libbystokes at 04:11 PM | Comments (0)

October 20, 2006

Learning Loneliness

You know when you are anticipating an event so much that you not only imagine what it will be like, you even feel sad for when it will end? Does that make sense? Like this: say your friend is visiting you and you haven't seen her in years. You are certainly excited about the visit and all that you have planned. You are going to have a great time together. But even before she arrives, you are mourning her departure.

I think that's how I feel. I am excited about this next year. I look forward to working and playing and making art and hanging out with friends and living in this town. But I know this "time" will end and I am already feeling so sad. The stupid thing about it is that I probably wont be leaving here for a year-- so I would be mad to stay all bummed about what's to come. But it's just so hard to go on enjoying things as if they will always be the way they are. Every time I leave my friends for the evening, I could cry because I feel like I will never see them again. That's so crazy! I will see them the next day! How do you make the most of something when you know you are just trying to "make the most of it"?

I consider myself a middle of the road Extrovert/Introvert. They ask, "are you energized by being around people or by spending time alone?" Um, both? Having finally finished school, I realized that I wouldn't be spending nearly as much time around campus, around friends, around teachers, around people. And with the thought of leaving town (on the horizon) I got into that "make the most of it" mode, so I have sort of switched into Extrovert overdrive. I have been trying to spend as much time with people as possible to kind of soak them up before I take off. But as with any drug, the side affect of extroversion is severe lonliness.

The other day, for the first time since I can remember, I couldn't sit still in my apartment. I was alone, and all I could think about was getting out of there. I needed people and companionship and friends.

God it's hard learning loneliness.

A friend of mine has a secret hole in the ground. She has set up a seat and a little shelf for books in the hole. She has hung fabric over the carved clay walls. Today she pulled the plywood cover away and showed me. We climbed in and sat down and she asked me to tell her a secret. It got me thinking about what I don't tell people. I have a lot of emotions and feelings I don't really share. I gave her a pretty vague answer. It was the truth, but it was vague. A blog (no matter how infrequently read) probably isn't the best shrink, but here are some of my feelings:

I am lonely sometimes. I want desperately to be shown and told that I am an acceptable and desirable friend. I love to be needed, but I don't like needy people. I sometimes assume that people are thinking badly about me because I am so critical of them. I am very patient. I am almost always happy, even when I worry or feel lonely. I am scared of God.

I think those feelings are pretty normal. So I am doing all right.

Posted by libbystokes at 01:00 AM | Comments (1)

October 13, 2006

Stouts and Saxaphones

Yesterday my Disneyland pass expired. I have had the pass for four years, which still suprises because each year when it came time for the pass to expire, I somehow found the money and incentive to renew. I never would have imagined as a kid that I'd have had a year-round pass to Disneyland! It has been so fun. As I've gotten to know the parks, there have been certain things that I always looked forward to doing, little routines and habits.

When I go to California adventure I always have to go though the Mission Tortilla Factory to get a free tortilla hot off the press. "Maseca!" I have to go into the Animation building to sit for a while and watch the cartoon clips.

I have to get a cream cheese pretzel (believe me, they're amazing). I have to look backwards over my shoulder on Thunder Mountain. I have to eat at the Bengal Barbeque.

So on my last visit yesterday, I made sure to try to get in all my favorite little activities. It was a really satisfying day. But there were a few changes. Not only are there the things i always like to do, there are the things I always wanted to do, but never did. I had always wanted to get a margarita in the Mexican food area in California Adventure, and I have always wanted to steal the keys from the dog's mouth on Pirates of the Caribbean. Unfortunately I didn't get to do either. I showed up to buy the margarita just two minutes after they closed. So instead I bought a "Downtown After Dark" beer (In honor of my sister, I asked for the darkest, "hoppiest" beer). There was something so rebellious and strange about buying alcohol in Disneyland. It was fun. Haha!

The keys, unfourtunately were a failure. I didn't get to the ride in time, so it was closed. (And though I hate to admit it, I just don't think I would have had the guts to get out of the boat and take them anyway). Oh well.

I did steal something else instead. Ok, bear with me here. In the entrance line to Indiana Jones, there are pillars that hold plants in the top. And I have always thought (don't ask, I am just wierd like this...) that it would be cool to steal a piece of the plant (because it's a spider plant and is easily transplanted). So yesterday in line, I jumped up and pulled a little bit of plant down and tucked it away in my purse. You should have seen the face of the guy in front of us. I have a feeling that I am going to make some guy a lucky (though often confused) man someday :)

Anyway, it was a very good last trip to Disneyland, and I will really miss it.

Across the wide, cement drainage ditch behind our apartment complex is a residential neighborhood. In one of the homes there is saxophonist. Several times a week he or she can be heard practicing. It's not always pretty. But it is always patriotic. Tonight I listened to a slightly garbled national anthem. It always sort of feels like I should be in New York, leaning out of my window and yelling at the neighbor kids to keep it down. That would be fun.

Posted by libbystokes at 07:19 PM | Comments (0)

October 09, 2006

Portland Says Hello

Portland was so good. The city is just so fun and funky and real. Just as I suspected, it is just the perfect combination of nature and activity and art. It attracts the kind of people who's creativity and craft is making it a center for upcoming musicians and crafters. A friend of mine who I have known since the fifth grade has been living in Portland for the last year, making a name for herself as a talented singer/musician. I hadn't seen her in nearly five years, so I met up with her down in the Clinton District at a little place called Savoy. It was so neat just to hear a familiar voice and see what she has been up to in life. Nevada City has produced some very talented people, and I'm glad Portland is now fostering Alela's talent so well.

On Thursday Katie and I took the bus down to the Pearl District for First Thursdays. The quality of art was higher than Last Thursdays, but still very down to earth, fun and inspiring. The Pearl District was made up of buildings used for shipping and receiving, but the warehouses that line the street have since been converted into art galleries and posh little restaurants and gift shops. The community is growing quickly because of the crowd that First Thursdays draws. Because the buildings in this part of the city were mainly old warehouses and factories, the view looking up the street into downtown is full of worn brickwork, rusty reds, and faded graffiti. It's so great.

After First Thursdays, we walked a few blocks to the Crystal Ballroom, where we saw Mat Kearney play. The Crystal Ballroom boasts one of the few (if only) remaining "floating dance floors" in the states. Walking on this floor is an interesting experience, and I've heard that dancing on it is amazing. A guy named Griffin House opened for Mat Kearney, and we were all really surprised by him. He's the type of artist who you hear and then wonder how you had missed him on your radar all this time. Check him out.

I left Portland on friday. It was a very bittersweet farewell. I sat on the Max on the way to the airport, listening to The Weepies, looking out at the city. I was sad to go. I wrote this in the airport:

So sad to go.
The overcast came on the last day like a stopping fog-- don't leave!
My scarf is hugging my neck so warm-- don't leave!
Swirled pastries are handcuffs on my stomach,
Foot traffic pulverized leaves are in my nose and heart-- don't leave!
Art, family, community, Jesus is in this place-- don't leave! Don't Leave!

I'm not much of a poet. But that's where my heart was.

Since I've been back I have just been trying to figure out how to prepare myself for the next step. Do I start phasing myself out of my routine here as a way to get used to not being around friends and family and places? Or do I just soak it all in as much as possible until I leave? The first option sounds kind of lame to me. So I guess I will just make the most of my time here until it comes time to move on.

Posted by libbystokes at 12:44 PM | Comments (2)