Shake Shack

Today I am eating lunch at a busy burger joint in King of Prussia. Mom didn't pack me a lunch, and I didn't pack me a lunch (we're out of practice these days), so I had to go. And honestly, I might've left my boring rabbit food in the fridge and gone for Shake Shack anyway.

I went a few months ago and once I tried their cheese fries, there was no going back. I now connect the International Dermal Institute with Shake Shack with cheese fries with specifically-flavored satisfaction.

The only occasion I have to experience the unique aftertaste of Shake Shack's cheese fries and the mouthwatering sweetness of its creative weekly shake offerings is when I drive to King of Prussia, not to shop at the luxurious and large shopping mall, but to attend skin care classes at the International Dermal Institute.

The IDI has two types of classes: classes based on the Dermalogica skin care line, and advanced classes geared toward any skin care line.

Today (which is actually a couple of days ago since I wrote the first two paragraphs of this post a few days ago) was my first IDI advanced class called "Skin Analysis 101."  It was a refresher plus more!  I even learned that my cosmetology book lied to me when it said there are five layers of skin all over the body (the stratum lucidum only exists on the palms of our hands and he soles of our feet!), that our fingerprints originate at the epidermal-dermal junction, and that a lot of those pesky sebum-filled dots congesting our skin aren't actually blackheads - they're natural and called sebaceous filaments.

The idea is, I learned a lot about how to better understand your skin and help you understand your own skin while I give it a good look under my mag lamp.

Being licensed in esthetics is different from being confident in it, and with each class I take at the IDI I become more confident in my ability to provide luxurious and effective facial treatments to clients. 

That's what I did on Tuesday. Today's Friday and I'm blogging while visiting with my exceptional Grandmother. Earlier I got sucked into a "Father Brown" episode she and Mom were watching in which major themes were Nazi art theft and a single woman's quest for revenge. She nearly got away with gassing a former Nazi inside a large art safe, which is somewhat poetic, but Father Brown stopped her with talk of the episode's overarching theme of justice vs revenge.

At the end Father Brown reclaimed The Stolen Painting from the primary art thief's umbrella hiding spot and replaced it with a note, a Bible verse, the one asking, "Does it matter if a man gains the whole world, if he loses his soul?" Thief smirked at it and tossed it to the ground but I like that verse because I find it rather grounding and it makes me think.

That's it for now!

So What Happened?

What happened to me during those many months in which I did not blog? And why didn't I bother?

Creativity Distracted: I began to despise the inner workings of my job, became manically depressed by it to the point of not going out etc. and eventually put in my two weeks, feeling underappreciated/undervalued/underestimated and sick of unrealistic demands placed on me.

Creativity Distracted: I found a wonderful man who is now my boyfriend and dotes on me even in my moodiest moments. I could go on.

Creativity Stifled (Obliterated): also Identity Lost: I began a job at a salon/spa.  It lasted six months. This is the prime reason I stopped blogging, photography-ing, art-ing, and in general enjoying life (I also stopped making money). Many employees fit in at this location but I did not, and it took me all six months to realize that my desired plan of advancement within the salon did not match the trajectory set for me by my bosses.  Etcetera.

Creativity Shocked Out of Existence: I got pregnant.

I am still pregnant. Now I am short two toxic working environments and have rediscovered who I am (seriously). I am no longer a workhorse harnessed to a grindstone day after day who doesn't question why and only hopes that one day it will stand out from the other workhorses and be promoted to pulling trains up mountains.

Perhaps I took that metaphor too far.

What I was doing was choosing to remain oppressed by my work environments. I followed the rules and hoped someday to be noticed and promoted to a higher, more admirable position.  There are two problems with this thought model: (1) By following the rules I blended in with everyone else and had no chance of standing out, and (2) the more admirable position I sought was not necessarily better than my original position, requiring just as much work and rule-following as before.

I have been between jobs for about one month now. Having realized the problems with my thought model, I now know what to seek in a future job. I choose to interview my employer carefully instead of begging for a position, any position.

I refuse to be attached to the grindstone of folding towels in hopes of cutting hair, or even attending copious classes and presenting many models only to be denied clients.  Such behavior leads in circles and in no way forward to open pastures of creativity and growth.

I didn't fit into the corporate wax center or the disorganized salon/spa because neither allowed for growth: no mistakes, no trying new things, no personalization, no wildness, no critical thinking, no star trek, no empathy, no mood swings, no listening - all critical parts of who I am.

Let's address boyfriend and pregnancy for one moment.  I'm somewhat, somewhat, over being distracted by these factors, but at one point they played a huge role in stifling my output.

Emotional stressors cause my brain to focus intensely on one thing and that only. Some people have the gift of channelling joys and sorrows into art. I do not have that gift.

You will hear more about my pregnancy in future posts, and probably my brilliant other, too.

Be sure to note that Significant Other is a creative genius. He often shows me up by being more productive than me (I mean, inspires me with his display of motivation). More importantly, he encourages all of my creative output, even my mediocre poetry (to some degree), while giving me grace when I cannot perform to my own standards.

So I say again, I'm back and better than ever.

She's Baaaaack!

"Danielle?"
...
"Danielle!"
....
This is the manner in which my technological devices have been calling to me, gently trying to reroute me back to "Fancy Ground Picking."

And until now, I have said "nope" with varying degrees of exhaustion, apprehension, laziness, and low-key resentment.

"Stop calling to me! Let me live my life!"

However small the responsibility is keeping up with my small and very unknown blog, it is a responsibility nonetheless and I have failed myself and my readers.

I am ready to re-start this blog with new gusto. My goals are to critique makeup and products that I purchase, include photographs, review things I have read, and share (anonymous) poignant conversations I have shared with fellow humans.

This in addition to the usual quips, life events, things I think everyone should agree with, and other freeform thoughts.

Okay?

It sounds like fun to me.

Heartbreaking

There's this song by Marina and the Diamonds that's been on my mind.  It's got this great dance beat and lyrics that are deceptively empowering.  In reality they are a critique of the way humans act in order to avoid heartbreak.

Side note: Marina and the Diamonds is really just a singer named Marina Diamante.  "The Diamonds" are her fans.

A lyric: "This is how to be a heart breaker: boys, they like the look of danger - we'll get him falling for a stranger, a player, singing "I love you - at least I think I do."

Other tips:
-you gotta have fun, but when you're done, you've gotta be the first to run.
-don't get attached to somebody you could lose
-gotta be looking pure: kiss him goodbye at the door and leave him wanting more
-wear your heart on your cheek, but never on your sleeve - unless you want to taste defeat.

Have you broken any hearts?

What does it feel like, to break a heart, and how do you know you've done it?

Is it your job to fix it, and how do you do it?

What do you do about those hearts you've damaged that you might never know about?

Marina sings almost as if breaking hearts feels good and gives strength, but my guess is that hurting people (lovers, friends, family) doesn't feel good at all.

-

I have actual writing assignments to do and am procrastinating from them.

I'm currently sitting in the break room at work hoping that writing a blog post will inspire me to bang out an assignment or two.

I'm going to be very frustrated when my buzzer goes off (which means I have to go and wax someone).  I would much prefer to be creative and by myself all day.

And listen to sermons, and music.

Okay, the sermons part was a lie.  I want to want to listen to sermons.  I work on Sundays, which is a semi-valid excuse for not attending church - but not an excuse (in the age of technology) to not listen to and learn from the Word of God.

I'm pretty sure there are people praying for me about that currently.  Or they're going to read this and then start praying.

-

Remember how I wrote about motives earlier? Well, I did a motive check recently and did some amazing things because God gave me the strength to do them.

I give credit to everyone who has been praying for me and knows my situation, since I certainly was in denial about my true motives and wasn't praying for myself.  I'm going to be vague about this:

When I am pursuing healthy relationships with people who know and love God and care about me, I am more able to follow God and grow closer to Him.

When I am not following God, there exists a communication block between the God and I (whether I like it or not).  I also stop pursuing relationships with people God has put in my life to help bring me closer to Him.

This is what God did: a wise friend/mentor of mine came in to my work!  As I waxed her eyebrows, she asked me about my life .  I talked her through my current pressing dilemma and she said things like "Mmmhmm" and "Oh, wow." At the appropriate time, my friend interjected, "It seems like you know exactly what you need to do."  She was right; I did.

And so almost immediately, I did what I needed to do.  I obeyed God, who said, "Danielle, you aren't listening to the Holy Spirit inside of you.  I'm going to help you out because I love you.  I am going to surprise you with a visit from a dear friend.  This friend is going to convict you without condemning you, and as a result you are going to let me transform your life (for the umpteenth time)."

Can you believe it?  I can.

Red Bull

Can you tell me where the red bull grows?

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There is an animated '80's movie called "The Last Unicorn" I which the ultimate nemesis is the Red Bull, who keeps all of the unicorns imprisoned under the ocean. 

I can't help but know in my heart that the creators of the Red Bull energy drink got its name from the ferocious, electric, unstoppable beast in that movie. 

-

In the book "Where the Red Fern Grows," a a boy's beloved dogs die (drawing tears from even the least emotive of readers) and he buries them somewhere special. Later, when he happens by that special place he finds that there is red fern growing there. I believe this is meant to be a sign that everything happens for a reason, or that God really loved the dogs, or something like that. 

Something ridiculous: the boy's parents reasoned to him it was for the best the dogs died since they were thinking of moving to town anyway, where dogs wouldn't be allowed. 

How comforting.

-

Iced coffee at Starbucks does not taste as lovely as its cold brew.  If cold brew is not available, choose something other than iced coffee.

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I went to the chiropractor's office yesterday and learned a little bit from him about epigenetics.  According to the doctor, I can change my genes by changing my lifestyle and pass down better genes to my future children.  Something like that.

Basically, I am responsible for how my children turn out.  And my parents are responsible for how I came out.  Maybe I would have been healthier if they would have lived healthier.  Maybe if my grandmother and my father had taken fewer antibiotics, their guts would have been healthier, they would have passed that down to me, and I wouldn't have bipolar disease.

That sounds like a bunch of shit.

Just saying.

I like not having responsibilities like having to lead a healthy lifestyle to change my genes for the future generation.  I'd rather just not have kids so as to not pass bipolar on to some helpless being who didn't get a choice about whether or not to be born.

-

Someone recently asked me about my blog. I tried to explain it and she interjected, "Is it a whole bunch of rants?" My entire demeanor changed.  I became defensive and said "NO" very seriously.  That leads me to believe that there must be some rants on here.

C. is one perceptive, badass woman.

She gave me a stack of CD's with conglomerates of poems on them by different poets and read by different people.  I can broaden my poetic horizons once I figure out how to get the poems on my iphone (i.e. impossible)!

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I've been making jewelry for fun that no one is buying.  FYI it is for sale.  Check out Ground Picker Jewelry on Etsy.  It's great.  People ask me how I spend my time and I usually say "making art" but when I say that I realize I haven't been making art.  Why not? Because I found a huge jar of junk jewelry for sale at Goodwill and have been recycling it into awesome necklaces!

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I have a guitar sitting in the corner that I got at a flea market.  I re-strung it and have a how-to-play-guitar book but it remains untouched.

I think of it as my destiny in the corner.  It is waiting for me until I'm ready for it.

Someone put it that way and I like it.  "Waiting until I'm ready for it."  - It'll be there unless mom gets sick of it and throws it out.

Your destiny is waiting for you, too! What is it?

Patriotism

Do you ever go days without thinking about something and then it pops into your mind, and then you wonder how long it's been since you thought about it last?

It's crazy how our minds work.  Sometimes, just for fun, mine picks out random files from the back and flashes them in front of my mind's eye.  It's been doing that with movies in the past day or two:

The Butler - about a black indentured servant who rose through the ranks of butlerhood to become one of the most favored butlers at the White House.  His demure, don't-rock-the-political-boat life contrasted with that of his son, who participated in just about every black rights movement he could.  
Miss Meadows - about a vintage-wearing, tap-dancing kindergarten teacher who enthuses to her students that there is good inside of everyone, while carrying a small handgun in her cute little purse in order to take justice into her own hands.  One is never quite sure if she is sane, and if her sanity really matters.

ARI (or something) - a young man rises to a challenge set before him by a computer system determined to take over the government for the good of the people.  The computer thinks it can tell this man exactly who he is, which is very frustrating to me.

-

Has anyone questioned your motives?  It's kind of like someone's telling you who you are.

It's hard to move on.

In ARI, the computer told the dude he was worthless and that his life would come to nothing.

The dude was in a hurry.  He didn't have time to mope around and slowly heal from her nasty words.  He did the right thing and decided that the computer was wrong.  He rose to one of his life's purposes and saved the United States from well-intended computerization.

I like telling people my motives.  I often tell people when I have ulterior motives, like, "I want to go shopping with you at this shopping center because I really need to stop by the bank on the way."

If someone thinks I'm holding something back, they're dead wrong.

-

Good quote from a friend:

"A tall, sneaky airhead is a very scary thing."

Take as you will.

-

Speaking of saving the United States:

My father is reading The Federalist Papers.  Slogging through the language of the past in order to understand what the great, radical founders of our country were trying to do.

"These men had wealth and status," said my Dad, "They had the most to lose of anyone.  But they were fed up with the way the British government was running and they had to do something."

How inspiring!

The Federalists were a group of people trying to convince the states to give the Government a certain amount of power.  The states wanted to give the Federal government very little power, (for example, little power to tax), but the Federalists, having logic, good education, and knowledge of the human condition (believing that humans are inherently "bad" based on history and Christian beliefs), knew that in order to form a "more perfect union" healthy fear of government is necessary and thus a certain amount of power.

Or at least that's what I got.  It was a good talk.

A good point made was the one where often the issue is bigger within a man's heart than it is in reality.  This applies in all areas of life and from past to present.

I also helped my dad, who in scholarly fashion had a huge dictionary out but was reading on a tablet, to find definitions more easily by tapping on words.  I think that made him very happy.  Things like that make me happy.  Also, learning new words makes me happy.  But there is something satisfying about I-Spy-ing and finding a word in a real live dictionary.

Reading literature from the past is almost like going to Alaska - it provides an escape from modern-day political windbags who may or may not have forgotten the importance of true patriotism.

And my dad loves Alaska.

Please tell me windbags is the right word and doesn't have other meanings I don't know.

Covet

It's difficult not to spend money.  It's actually something I pray about.

Online shopping is a big culprit, as well as confusing needs with wants, and, finally, social spending.

Social spending is when I spend money on events or food in order to spend time with friends.

I have also been convicted by God Himself that it is detrimental to my relationship with Him to make every one of my excursions from my house an opportunity to shop for my next vehicle.

Lately I've been checking out every vehicle and giving it a yes, no, or maybe rating as to whether or not I would buy it, and then checking its make and model while at stop lights, while waiting for guests at work, and while in the parking lot at Target.  It's enhancing my car knowledge so I can keep up in conversation with others, I say to myself.  But really, this behavior was creating an obsession within that is overtaking my thoughts in an unhealthy way.

I am saving for a vehicle, but will shop when the time comes rather than months before which causes impatience and covetousness.

I looked up the word "covet" recently since I'm not supposed to do that according to God.  I used to think it was wanting something that someone else had (being jealous of it or wanting to steal it), but according to the dictionary, it's just wanting something very badly, obsessing over it, longing for it; you get the idea.  This is ground-breaking.

This is why I feel convicted when I want very badly and long for things to go my way and when I shop for cars at traffic lights.

Sometimes in order to avoid feelings of covetousness when it comes to things I can buy, I cave and purchase what I want almost immediately.  This, then, becomes another issue: not being a good steward of my money.

I did some social spending today on a meal at a restaurant called Snap.  Then I went to a bookstore and bought two journals I don't need yet just because I felt like it.

Profanity is something else I'm praying about.  I was in the car with my friend on the way home from Snap and she used some of this horrible Profanity.  I looked, at her, surprised and amazed, and she told me she had been struggling with it lately. "Me too!" I enthused.  We prayed immediately.

There's a verse in the Bible I like to ignore about how salt water and fresh water cannot come out of the same spring, and in the same way, dirty language won't come out of a clean heart.

I like to use profanity to give my words impact, but I think the idea that cursing gives words impact is a lie from the Enemy.  I can make my words sharp and meaningful, as well as respectful with my wealthy vocabulary anytime I want.  I use dirty language around people who use it too, and I never thought I'd be one of those individuals who did things to fit in, but here I am.

God says to be in the world but not part of it and I'm definitely blending in.

Lipstick

I just painted like a hundred shades of lipstick on my hand that I didn't know I didn't have.

My friend went to a flea market and got them all for me.  Will my future makeup clients know that I get my makeup at flea markets?

No, because I didn't put my blog address on my business card.  And if they find me, they can deal with it, because my hand feels creamy and gorgeous and they will too when I apply to their lips one of my poppin' new shades.

Glosses, balms, rich opaque velvety burgundy sticks, you get the idea.

I also just finished my taxes.

They are IN the envelopes.  I owe a dollar to the state of PA and a dollar to my municipality; I hope they use my funds well.

Has anyone experienced their camera getting tired at a dark party and refusing to take pictures?  It kept telling me it was busy and didn't want to flash just yet.  Ugh.

You guessed it; I experienced this last night.

I exited the party into the empty parking lot and as I neared my car in the frigid air I had a freak-out session.  My job there was done.

Finally.

As a party photographer, I realized, I don't get to decide when enough photographs have been taken and I don't get to decide when to leave.  And I'm usually the person who leaves parties early.

Not last night.  Last night the party guests didn't get tired, and my client made me very frightened either that I was at the time being a failure or that my photos after the fact would be extremely disappointing.  I was on edge and smiled a lot and wanted very much for the night to be over.  Don't tell anyone.

However: I got to listen to some bangin' Bollywood music and watch EVERYBODY (not just the young people, or the women, or the hip ones, or whatever) dance and dance and dance, and sing along to every - single - song.  Sometimes I truly got caught up in watching everyone's fun.

At one point a man took my camera and let me dance.  I thanked him and he said in my ear, "I could tell you wanted to dance by the look in your eyes." There were a few people besides him watching out for me who helped me pick food and asked if I was having fun.

And the DJ was super cute.

So why the stress reaction in the parking lot?

Maybe I just hadn't been wearing enough lipstick.

Plug-in Stereo

I went to a chiropractor for the first time the other day. He cracked my back TWICE and it was wonderful.

That same day I experienced another first: I brought my laptop to Starbucks and got a hot drink and sat there sipping it and appearing studious or businesslike (you choose) while doing important-looking work. 

I've always wanted to be one of THOSE people: people on the move with hot drinks and laptops and pressing ideas and no time to lounge at home. They just look so...purposeful and self-assured. They claim their space at the coffee shop or cafe as if it is their own and stay as long as they need to get the job done. 

So I got to play the part. It was fun.

My brow furrowed, I could have been filling in a spreadsheet for a law firm or something. Yay me!

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So, I've mentioned soundtracks before in my blogs.  I'm going to do it again:

"You don't know what you got so you just give it away to anyone who's looking....
So save your love for somebody who's earned it,
Don't cave because all the wait'll be worth it....
You're beautiful, it's indisputable."
-Plug-in Stereo

This song plays at work but the other day it just hit me.

In the Bible there's a passage warning against throwing one's pearls to the swine, because the swine will devour them and then turn against you and trample you.

The swine have done nothing to earn your pearls and have no respect for them.  Your talents, beauty, and love and affection aren't just for anyone.  You may not realize it, but you are infinitely valuable no matter what you've done or who you think you are, and saving your love for someone who recognizes that value - saving it for as long as it takes - is worth it.

The most important line to me is "You don't know what you got so you just give it away."
God didn't make any mistakes when he made you and I.  We have perfection inside of us and sharing it with anyone who looks at us just doesn't make sense.

I urge us all to remember that "the wait'll be worth it." 

Snowpocalypse Part II / Cabin Fever

I'm sitting in bed enjoying my essential oils diffuser.

It is diffusing a doterra (that's a company) calming blend of lavender, sweet marjoram, Roman chamomile, ylang ylang, Hawaiian sandalwood, and vanilla oils and extracts.

Yes, I just read the label. Now I want to go shopping for some of these pure oils like chamomile and marjoram. The blend is called "Serenity" and man, it smells good when you can smell it.

Whenever I'm lying down and trying to fall asleep (prime time to enjoy "Serenity" or any other essential oil) I get all stuffed up and can't smell a dang thing. That's why I'm sitting up. It's sort of helping. Sometimes if I breathe with my mouth open in can taste the smells in the air. Great, right?

It's morning, like 7:30 morning, and I am voluntarily awake. I have spent the past two days inside in front of the fireplace working on all possible things. I even put all of my clothes away.

You see, the snowpocalypse actually happened. It gave the media plenty to do. They have named the storm "Jonas," pointed out that you can see the storm from space (as you can probably see most storms if you look hard enough), and have gone so far as to call it "The Storm of a Generation."

A generation.

Which generation? And don't you remember all those other big snowstorms you've reported?

I'd call it the storm of a generation if its results looked a little more like the previews did for "the Day after Tomorrow." Come on!

It would be better if I woke up later, because if I were asleep I would not be experiencing cabin fever.

I'm pretty sure cabin fever is what people out west in the pioneer days used to experience when it snowed so high they couldn't see out their windows and they might never make it back home if they went out for firewood (once again: we think we have it bad). They would be stuck inside all winter and go crazy. Hm, I'm going to have to look this up and get back to you to see if cabin fever truly was a kind of illness in those days.

In 2016 America, our attention spans have shortened some and two days inside can have similar effects to an entire winter's effects on a pioneer. 

I will go out today because my sanity depends on it. In feel like my blood is in the same locale in my body as it was two days ago because I have barely moved (except running up and down the stairs many times to get chargers and books and things - offerings at the altar of the fireplace).

I plan to write until it is time to get up.

Don't worry, that's soon.

If only I could greet every day with the same kind of bored get-me-out-of-this-bed i-don't-care-how attitude. Well, maybe not.

There's simply nothing to do anymore. You know all of those things you'll do when you have time? Well, I either did them or realized I never wanted to in the first place. I learned long ago never to tell Mom there's nothing to do because she likes bringing up things I don't want to do. I don't need her help when it comes to "things to do."

My friend once shared this with me: "We are human BEings, not human DOings." I think about this a lot, since my life is centered around doing things, seeing people, smelling oils, going places - what does it mean to just be? Can I be and do at the same time? Do I have to meditate and do yoga in order to fulfill my destiny as a being? Because it's impossible to sit still when there's a world of DO's.

I also made and photographed jewelry during the snowstorm. My Etsy shop is called GroundPickerJewelry.

Shameless plug. Get out of bed, my people, and enjoy that day of yours!

Snowpocalypse

I'm thinking about a lot of things today.

1) the approaching snowpocalypse in the northeast of the united states and whether or not it actually is approaching.

2) visions of my cats and I stretched for days on end in front of the blazing fireplace with nothing to do but

Blog
Make jewelry
Do art
Diffuse essential oils
Do snow photoshoots
Clean
Drink coffee
Edit said photoshoot photos
Write in journal

3) how the impending snowmageddon (term given to me by a friend) (snowpocalypse came to me via "popocalypse" - when the pope came to Philly) is keeping me from making commission, hourly, and tips today

4) how much power meteorologists have over the public

For example, it has not started precipitating in any way yet and SEPTA is closed for all of tomorrow.

 

*Public transportation of every form will be closed in the southeast of PA for an entire day because important people put value in what other important people say.*

Those important people are proficient in predicting weather as a result of schooling, continued education, and experience in the field.

I am also considering a "hypothetical" predicament. Consider the following: Friday is "Free Wax" day. Sara comes on Friday knowing she can get anything she wants waxed for free, but is turned away because her hair is too short to wax.  She reschedules for a week from that day when her hair will be long enough.

 

Question #1) when Sara returns in a week to get waxed, should the center extend last week's free waxing promotion to her?

Question #2) what if Sara believes her service will be free because of her special circumstances only to discover AFTER receiving the service that she is going to be charged full price?

Write out a comment to see what "Hypothetically" happened and how I "Hypothetically" feel about this.

Did you know that the Pope also went to Kenya? I heard it was an even bigger deal than when Obama visited. It's funny what shows up on the news and what doesn't.

Oh, just so you know, I wrote most of this article before it started snowing.  My dad drove me home from work and his snow tires performed wonderfully.  When I get a new car, I'm getting snow tires so I can be just like him.  I observed many people driving cautiously and appreciate the community effort to avoid collisions.  I can't help but feel, though, as the inch of snow lays atop the asphalt, that a visitor from Minnesota or Massachusetts might think we Pennsylvanians handle snow poorly.  "One inch of snow and these idiots freak out!"

There is a book, "Left of Bang," sitting next to me.  It's written by a Marine General all about trusting and improving one's instinct and danger detection in all areas of life. 

Perhaps that is why the leader of SEPTA decided to shut everything down tomorrow; maybe he read "Left of Bang" and chose to follow his heart.

Foggy Morning/Straight Outta Compton

There's nothing quite like a frigid morning traffic light with fog rising from every car's tailpipe into the new morning's air.

Poetic, right?

That was a morning not long ago.

I almost didn't pay attention because of my typical internal morning brain fog. 

I had decided to forego scraping off my windshield that morning and often the cold, bright sunlight caught the crystals on my windshield, blinding me and making me nervous about living on the edge of safety. 

I swear everyone else on the road that day parks in a garage. There was no evidence frost on any other car I passed. 

I felt very conspicuous. 

Anyhow, beautiful, ephemeral fog.

I'm pretty sure ephemeral means "doesn't last."

-

Nothing gold can stay.

Is that by Robert Frost? I could look it up.

I watched "Straight Outta Compton" last night with my friends.  I'm going to try to connect it to the fog in a few ways. 1)There was lots of smoking which looked like fog.  2)There were lots of shots of cars and several incidents of dangerous driving.  3)Friendships, lives, poverty, and riches came and went like fog.

My friend said the movie has a low "rewatchability" factor and I agree.  But I wanted to watch it in order to understand how, well, how everything.

The movie gave me pathos for the characters (which is what I was hoping for) and an image to pull to my mind if anyone starts talking about EZE or Tupac or Snoop or Ice Cube.  I have to trust that the movie stuck to history, but if I do then I can hold a conversation with someone about why Dr. Dre started "Aftermath" or why Ice Cube went solo.

How cool is that?

I need to watch more movies about real stuff.

I had wanted to watch the movie with my dad.  I had thought it might be a cool bonding experience since sometimes the two of us bond over watching something on the history channel for much longer than we expected.

Boy am I glad I didn't! I'm sure the party scenes are all in the name of historical accuracy, but these parties seem to be the kind where only the pretty girls are allowed in and they check most of their clothes at the door. And I mean most of them.

Just be aware of that.

Good movie.  Straight Outta Compton.

Air Force

I was out swing dancing the other night.

Swing dancing is a great way to spend a Saturday night and meet new people.  You're supposed to ask each other to dance, so it's always entirely platonic, except when people who met at swing get married.

I was in the bathroom putting makeup on because I hadn't had time before I drove over.

I hadn't known before the gravity of the role the bathroom plays in the social dynamic of Saturday night swing.

Young middle school/high school age girls came in and left tittering about, "I saw you dancing with him and your face was SO red!" - "Nuh-uh - WAS it?!"

Other girls came and had important conversations while fixing their faces in the mirror.

The one I remember, though, is a posse of three led by an alpha female in a with dark hair and dark red lips.  The triumvirate had been discussing boys, of course, but in this case they were talking about whether or not so-and-so is going to the Air Force academy and whether or not he would make it through.

One girl mentioned someone she knew in the military who doesn't smile anymore.
(Dumbass - it's the military, they take things seriously.)

And Alpha female speaks up as she suavely reapplies her lipstick, "Listen. I've BEEN to the Air Force academy.  I've APPLIED to the air force academy.  I've been ACCEPTED to the Air Force academy...."

And I'm not sure exactly what her point was except to impress her friends and maybe in doing so pretend to possess the great gift of discernment between real military men and duds.  I'm not sure if she's going or not.

As she and her friends pranced out of the bathroom peace was restored to my heart.

Okay.  Seriously, girl.

You don't just fling stuff like that around.  Being accepted into the Air Force academy is a HUGE deal and you are inserting it into this conversation to glorify yourself. Let's talk about how amazing it is that you heard so-and-so wants to serve his country instead of bringing up a college you visited but decided not to attend.

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I also danced that night with a disturbingly delusional young man.  He made wild statements like "I'm from another planet and am here to enslave the entire human race" and "I am the deity in my own cult, along with Zach and Cody from that television show a while back," and "I'm a lawyer representing all birds who hit windows at night and are injured."

Thing is, he never broke character.  His character kept changing, which was disturbing as well.  I thought the "enslaving human race" line was just a really horrible icebreaker and he would break from his delusions and go, "Just kidding, I'm not [insert alien-sounding name here], I'm Johnny." But he didn't.  It was the first dance in which I considered leaving my partner on the dance floor in the middle of the dance.  I was beyond disturbed.

I had a friend do reconnaissance and he found that a few other girls had the same experience.

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My favorite vignette is me talking to a girl about my tattoo in the back room between the bathrooms and the dance room.  The conversation morphed into tattoos she wanted, which were all kind of funny if one were to enter the conversation at the wrong time.  And it just so happened that we were spaced kind of perfectly so that people had to walk through us to get to the water fountain or to the bathrooms just as she was saying loudly, "I want a tramp stamp pentagram so when I'm changing as a firefighter I look badass!"

Which is pretty badass because being a firefighter is another way one can serve one's country, and because she's creative enough to think of things like how and when her tattoo will be revealed.

It just killed me, though, to hear her yelling the word "tramp stamp" through several people.

But I guess people should mind their own business.

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Did I just say people should mind their own business? Disregard scenario number one.