heathervescent

Grapefruits

I was telling a friend this story this morning and it occurred to me, it was a good one for the blog and might be good inspiration for Bob (R.H.) (you know who you are).

When I was 4 or 5, at the breakfast table my mom was trying to convince me to want to go to heaven. I was busy playing with my cheerios, flicking vitamins into the flowers and drinking grapefruit juice. She started telling me how wonderful it was in heaven with Jesus and God and the angels and my family and how it was white and up in the sky and I imagined clouds and a city and lots of people. And how wonderful it would be because we would live forever in paradise. The light streamed in from our bay window and I imagined that's how heaven was. I had this great picture in my head of all this, but only one burning question.

"Are there grapefruit trees in Heaven?" my tiny body probed.

Mom hemmed and hawed and said she thought there weren't any grapefruit trees in heaven, but my grandmother (who I loved the best of all) would be there (she was still alive at the time). Well, that was not enough for me. If there were no grapefruit trees I didn't want to go there. She tried to backpedal and say, well, there might be grapefruit trees in heaven." Might? Not good enough for me. I didn't want to go anywhere there weren't grapefruit trees.

You can take Heaven, I'll take grapefruits.

Taking Responsibility

Well, it happened again. I felt betrayed, loss of trust, someone I thought was more evolved practicing low level business practices. At first, I was angry, considering confrontation, wanting retribution. But I could see it from her side. I saw how she would argue and what a complete waste of my energy it would be to engage.

So instead, I took responsibility for my emotions.

They're completely valid - she did a dickish move. I've gotten second and third and fourth opinions. (The level of dickishness varies in some of those opinons, but all think it was low.) I thought she was more evolved. Maybe she was. It doesn't matter now. All that does matter, is what I do, how I take responsibility for moving forward and beyond.

I don't need retribution. I've got everything I can possibly want and need. I'm living my dream life. All my dreams are belong to moi. I live in the best of all possible worlds. It's just sometimes I forget that, because I fall under someone else's spell. Enter into a dream with someone else.

This was a good reminder on taking responsibility. I had never applied it to my emotions before and it's very effective. Sure I might feel certain things, but it's not up to anyone else to solve those problems, to make me feel better. There's nothing she could do to change what I think now. No retribution big enough. Damage has been done, but I remain unscathed. I'm the only one who can change the way I feel. And I have.

Being Safe

Falling down another Totally 80's rabbit hole.

Books

It's turning out to be a very bookish year. I've been voraciously reading books (science, science-fiction, financial crisis), watching my friends (and clients) write them and turning my own ideas around in my mind. Then, I got a surprise blast from the past book acknowledgment.

If you're a consistent Heathervescent blog reader, you know I worked with Jonathan Shaw on his first novel - Narcisa: Our Lady of Ashes earlier this year. I helped set up his site and blog in preparation and to support the launch of Narcisa. Jonathan has taken to blogging and you can continue Narcisa's adventure on his blog, Scabvendor. He recently launched his site in Portuguese! Bem Legal! I consider that a bloggy success.

Narcisa is a wild ride and I read the galley copy over 3 days shooting and burning up cars in a remote desert. It was a fitting setting to travel to Narcisa's Rio. I highly suggest this book. You will visit places you have never visited before, but they might seem familiar.

Second, my pal and conspirator, Dame Darcy just launched her current book, Gasoline: A Graphic Novel, a post-apocalyptic witch tale. It's bound like a book of faerie tales with rich Arthur Rackam-esque illustrations along a typewritten story. I just sat down to read it this evening and I've already inhaled half of the story. A family searching for Gasoline for their car.

I'm familiar with the story, seeing her illustrations, visiting the magical compound in the Malibu hills, meeting the actual characters, one of her dolls resting jauntily against my multi-armed Ganesha as I write this. We've been working for over a year now on an online doll game based on her characters. Our business relationship turned into friendship.

I finally saw the book on Sunday at the Royal T Maid Cafe full of cute Gothic Lolita dressed to the cos-play max girls. It's a gorgeous book, definitely not child's play although it might look like it. It's definitely going to be one of my favored books in my collection.

Then earlier this year, out of the blue, I got an email from my x-husband asking for my current mailing address. He told me he was publishing a book, most of which he wrote when we were together, and wanted to send me a copy. I didn't know if I wanted to see this book; although I was happy for his success.

A month or two later I found his package in my PO box. His handwriting unchanged, recognizing the giraffe stamp, I didn't know if I would open it. Would I be disappointed if he acknowledged me? What if he didn't? Short answer, he did. That felt nice. That felt like an appropriate gesture.

The book, The Mentalist's Handbook: An Explorer's Guide to Astral, Spirit, and Psychic Worlds, is beautiful. This is unsurprising. Jeff's black and white drawings are gorgeous as ever. I have not read the book. I read much of the content over the shoulder as it was being written, and later pre-pamphlet production. The content, I am sure, is good, if that's the type of book you are looking for.

But it reminds me of one of the major problems I had with our relationship. Clint would spend lots of time reading and researching the methodologies he wrote about. But he never (as long as I knew him) practiced them. He would get letters from people who practiced the techniques he wrote about. This was a sharp contrast to what I was actively practicing at the time. Similar techniques to what he wrote about. It irked me and felt false to write about something he had never directly experienced.

We exchanged a dialog about this after I got the book, because after all these years, I wanted to know, did he begin to believe? I can't answer that question. And it's not up to me, nor of any consequence to me. Still, the book is beautiful and I am glad it was created.

Who is Gwen Stefani?

I was at dinner a few nights ago when the couple in the table next to us leaned over and asked me - "What's a song that Gwen Stefani sing?" Of course the first one that comes to my mind is Hollaback Girl. I sang a few lines and he recognized it. His tablemate did not.

Apparently earlier in the day, neighbor at the table had been at the Grove and all this paparazzi had jumped out and was taking pictures of someone he was standing right next too. He leaned over and asked, "I'm sorry, I don't watch TV, but you are obviously a celebrity, who are you?" With a laugh her response was "Gwen Stefani".

Spider grass

Spider grass
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

Wall outside the cafe.

Macchiato

macchiato
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

Frothy with a chocolate at the Royal T Maid Cafe.

Fav Song From HS

I loved this song when I was in high school. Oh Cicciolina, cicciolina! I'm getting some flash mob ideas with those ref shirts!

Hi Reason Readers!

I bet you found you way over here from Brian's article on the Escape from Berkeley Race. I'll warn you, I don't write much about politics over here. I believe in a live and let live. Mostly you'll find stories of my adventures and activities. It's a lot of introspection and my personal thoughts on the world, which might be kind of boring if you don't know me or find my viewpoint uninteresting. If you don't, that's cool. There are many different people in the world. However if you do find this site interesting, feel free to say hi and make a comment - and come back for more if you are so inclined.

Thanks for stopping by!

Mugwort Dreams

So somewhere long ago I read that Mugwort gives you strange dreams if you drink it. The other night I was wanting some tea with my K.J. Bishop's Etched City Dream and I dragged out a tin of Mugwort tea. I thought, well, now is as good as any to try it out.

(I used to do a fair amount of experimenting with natural remedies and herbs (not what you think!). In fact, I used to make lots of disgusting tinctures that were quite potent. I would take a brown bottle with me to parties and dare people to take shots of dirty sock tasting liquid with me. They would always get a relaxing surprise. Valerian and Kava were my favorites to bring around.)

So anyway, back to the tea. I brewed up a cup, added a slug of Agave nectar to sweeten it up (although it was quite delightful with spearmint, skullcap and chamomile in the mix) and sipped away into the night. I went to bed and was a bit disappointed in the morning.

The next evening however more than made up for it. I can not explain the strangeness of the dreams - they would not make sense to you anyway, dear reader. Vivid and intense like this real daily world. I've never woken up myself silently screaming from asphyxiation. I guess I really do feel that passionately about that.

Anyway it was cool. I'm going to continue drinking it and seeing where my night adventures take me. I think I'll brew a cup now.

Lava Highway

Lava Highway
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

LOL. A typical hawaii lava photo.

Steam Vent

Steam Vent
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

A volcanic steam vent up close and personal.

Dappled Path

Dappled Path
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

A hiking path through the rainforest.

Fiddlehead

Fiddlehead
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

An unfurling fern. I love these fractalic fiddleheads.

Untypically Hawai'i

When people think of a Hawaiian vacation they imagine sunny, sandy beaches, froo-froo drinks in hand and lots of relaxation. Well, leave it to the contrarian to have a completely opposite experience.

S and I went to Hawaii to celebrate our 3rd year. I thought it would be cool to see the Volcano, so I booked us a cottage in the sleepy little town of Volcano. Well, we had a less than sleepy time.

It was non-stop adventuring with volcano hikes, lava viewing, exploring a lava tube, buying orchids at local farmer's markets, waterfall frolicking, banyan tree climbing, mountain climbing to Mao Kea (13k feet!), stargazing at 9k feet, touring a coffee plantation, eating awesome pie at the southern most restaurant in the US (they played Bluegrass music too!), seeing sea turtle on a black sand volcanic beach and driving 600 miles in 3 days! I didn't don my bathing suit once.

I really can't describe it in words, so here are some pictures for you to enjoy.

Outlook

Outlook
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

We hiked around and across this crater.

Escaping from Hollywood, I mean, Berkeley, part 3

It was the open road and desert vistas as we followed the green and yellow roadster through Death Valley into Pahrump. There was some final scavenging on the outskirts while the petrol cars filled up. (What irony would it have been to run out of gas following the non-petro cars?) Then, in an instant, we were in civilization and stuck in bumper to bumper traffic on the Vegas Strip.

I looked up at the Casinos and construction cranes as we arrived at the neon finish line. Later in the evening three cars were lined up outside. Everyone was cleaned up and ready for the awards ceremony. Celebrations and libations aside, road weary, the night ended.

Only to wake up the next morning with destination Hollywood via Baker, Barstow and San Bernadino. My eyes watching the dirt desert roads, remembering other times on this road. Silence. Music. Conversation. Return. Refreshed. Creativity rejuvenated. Inspired.

This trip reminded me how important it is to think BIG. To follow your passions, your dreams. The experience of the unknown, when the challenge is put forth.

(Read part 1 and 2.)

Goblin Fruit Reading

I took K.J. Bishop's _The Etched City_ to Hawaii with me for some light reading. I didn't actually get much reading done (too much adventuring), so I've been catching up on the reading since I got home. K.J. Bishop is the writer who introduced me to the Andre Gide quote that became one of my mantras. (It's on my bio page.) I had forgotten the exotic fruit of her book. A perfect accompaniment to volcanic adventures.

Last night I came across this section of the story, which reminded me of Douglas Hofstadter's _I am a strange loop_.

 

At that moment, he realised that he did not exist to her in the same way that he existed in his own perception. She held a copied version, an interpretation of him, filtered through the matrix of her priorities and desires.

Therefore, surely, he only held a copy of her.

and this, which reminded me a bit of personal branding and self-development

"I have come to believe that we steer our individual spheres of being through the spectra of possible worlds via the choices we make, the acts we perform. Most people stick to known routes, and therefor cannot travel far. They live too modestly, and perhaps too privately. Only by being strange can we move, for strange acts cause us to be rejected by whatever normality we have offended, and to be propelled towards a normality that can better accommodate us."

It's a good book and makes me think about things. Roll the words around in my head and suck on them to get the juice out. And then go back for another piece.

Escaping from Hollywood, I mean, Berkeley, part 2

The mountains were snow-topped and the air was crisp. My boots crunched in the dirt and my eyes alighted on a car that looked out of time. It was the Lotus Prisoner, a two-seater open air roadster that looked like it was from the last century with the exception of running off of cooking oil.

I walked over to oogle and learn more about the car. The owner, Jack, was from Oregon and we chatted at length about his car. Jack had a great sense of humor, but it was unfortunately lost upon me. The race was the prisoner's first trip, as his previous Lotus was totaled a few months earlier. Later in Vegas, he took me on a spin in it and told me the time he drove under a semi-tractor trailer. (Yes, the car is small enough to do that.)

Back at the Lone Pine, the green team, rolled up and I finally laid eyes on the wood burning truck I've been reading about. Wayne and his team came from Alabama stopping and showing off the truck along the way to Berkeley. I was most impressed that there was a _second_ word burning truck on a trailer. This team was dedicated and friendly.

There were rumors as to where a third contender was. The Homeschool Heros were in either Lee Vining or north of Bishop. It was unclear. Apparently some really dirty fryer oil had clogged the fuel intake in the diesel Mercedes. It was unknown whether they would make it to Vegas. We watched the two contenders take off, one headed south straight for Vegas, while the other headed north back into Lone Pine to scavenge some oil.

When I originally heard about this race, the scavenging for fuel requirement really caught my eye. It was what I thought might make the challenge impossible. It was also what I found most fascinating and at the same time realistic. I had the opportunity to follow the Prisoners on the third day and watch them scavenge for cooking oil on numerous occasions.

I won't give away their secrets, but I was fascinated by how simple it was. A bargaining. A way to interact with people from each town they went through. People loved learning about the car, and the race and when they learned they needed fuel, everyone jumped at the chance to be part of it.

Fuel procured, we were on the road and traveled through some of the most beautiful land in the world (by my opinion) - Death Valley.

Escaping from Hollywood, I mean, Berkeley, part 1

When I read about Jim Mason's "Escape from Berkeley" race from one of his email newsletters, I didn't think it would actually work. It was audacious and novel. It appealed to my love of cars and racing, the desert and mountains, and preparing for the apocalypse.

I secretly followed the updates, watching with anticipation, the growing interest and development. In the back of my mind, I had no doubt that I would see this incredible event first-hand. But I did nothing to further that vision. Content to follow from afar. Memories and extrapolations sated my wanderlust.

Then the world shifted, and a door appeared, where there had been none. I opened it and sat down in the front seat of Brian's station wagon. Brian, a judge for the event, was in the middle of one of his crazy travel schedules. (I'm constantly impressed where I hear he's been or going or is.) So here I was, saying yes, to come along as his sidekick.

We rolled out of Hollywood Sunday afternoon and headed North to Lone Pine. The desert scenery was a fresh breath of air and sitting shotgun as we talked, I realized some things about myself. I've been focusing my intensity on fewer things = those things getting more heather intensity than they can stand. I need creative outlets for this intensity, these passions, to express the craziness that lives in this fragile body. The flexibility and freedom to take adventures, which feed my soul.

We arrived in Lone Pine just after the Annual Film Festival Parade and the town was full of people dressed old time cowboy clothes - complete with noisy spurs, vests and cowboy hats. We killed time walking around the town - we killed 7 hours - mostly in the local bar, watching folks play pool and listening to their pics on the jukebox.

Apparently day 2 had not been good to the racers. Tioga Pass was closed and one team took the north route to Bishop and the others had taken the south route through Bakersfield. Most of us were passed out before the teams rolled into the checkpoint for the evening.

Day 3 started with hot coffee and soft gooey cinnamon rolls from the Alabama Hills Cafe. I love local diners and this one was really top. I talked to the owner who filled me in on the weekend film festivities and filled me in on the local terrain. Then we headed over to the starting point to check out the cars. I missed the start of the race in Berkeley, (I escaped from Berkeley 4 years ago) so this was my first introduction to the cars. There were two of them.

Lotus Roadster, Petro Optional

Lotus_Roadster_1
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

I was completely smitten with this car from first view. The entire trip I dreamed about a purple one with wind swirls that I could drive around a post-Apocalyptic Los Angeles or maybe just to meetings.

It runs on Veggie Oil or Bio-Diesel and is a 5-speed that can go over 70 miles per hour. I have a ragtop dream.

Filling up

Green_fuel2
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

Wayne of the Green Team in Alabama fills up his truck with wood before the final day of rally racing begins.

Escape from Berkeley Race Officials

Officials2
Originally uploaded by heathervescent.

I really like this photo of MichaelMichael, Brian Doherty (judges for the race) and Jim Mason (idea instigator). Who is that mysterious woman with a mustache?

It was a windy morning in the Eastern Sierras.

Born to love Volcanoes

Two dreams on my Superviva life list have to do with Volcanoes.

1. See a Volcano up close and personal
2. Roast a marshmallow on hot LAVA

And what a wonderful opportunity I have since I am going to Volcano on the big island of Hawaii tomorrow! I'm about to start my packing which will include a bag of marshmallows! Because here's an opportunity to have a dream come true.

October Geek Dinner next Tuesday

Yo Peeps, It's the pimping and promoting heathervescent coming at ya! Geek Dinner is going down next week on Tuesday the 21st at our favorite Chinese Restaurant - Mao's Kitchen on Melrose. I know there are a lot of Tech events happening in LA these days, and you may ask, what's the deal with the geek dinner.

Well, I won't say it was the first tech event in LA, (it wasn't) but when it launched almost three years ago, the LA tech scene was dead. Dead, I tell ya. The geek dinner was the fragile nub of new growth, from which a forest of LA technology events and the tech community sprouted. The geek dinner is low key, relaxed getting to know each other over a simple inexpensive meal. Sure some networking goes on, sometimes we have sponsors, sometimes we have giveaways, but mostly it's about meeting and connecting with people who self-select as being interested and passionate about technology.

It's easy to attend -  bring yourself and a twenty-spot to cover your dinner. I'm splurging and bringing drinks.

RSVP and details and stuff are at Upcoming.

Bootie Performance

Heather's returning to the stage with something old, splashed up and new. I'm bringing the Zombie troupe back to BootieLA, where we did our first stage performance for their Midnight Mashup Show, two years ago in 2006. Last year, we took it to San Francisco and sassed it up for our audience of over 1200 Halloween partyiers. This year, we're bringing it back to LA and I'm mising in a few new things. (What can I say, I like to keep it fresh.)

I've got a great new lead, if you're around the geek LA scene you may know her - Lainie is going to be Gwen. I am also performing in a new role. And I have other surprises. Come now, I must work hard to blow your mind.

This past weekend, we did our first rehersal, and my pal and fellow conspiritor wrote this on her blog:

We had our first rehearsal this afternoon in Heather's driveway. A few songs into the routine, Heather's neighbor poked her head out the sliding glass doors and looked down on the three of us, doing a reworked version of the thriller dance, hula hooping, practicing the six step and doing the robot. She said--wow, has it been a year already?

Last year around Halloween, she looked out and found pretty much the same weird scene below her apartment, except that time we were in full costume.(from Shanny)

I still remember that day, almost three years ago, before I became friends with my neighbor, she peeped her head out after an hour or so of the same thriller mashup to see if she was dreaming. She wasn't. This year, she's coming to the show.

And I do hope that you will come as well. Details and downloads are at the BootieLA site.

* Photo from LA Decom performance, 2006

Escape from Berkeley

Ugh - none of my from the road posts of images made it to the blog. Pls hold for coverage of an awesome event!

vegas

so ive found myself in a casino again. even though i knew the race ended in vegas it didn't hit me that i was actually going to be here until we were sitting in the traffic on the strip. and now i'm inside this smoke filled room with tinkling electronic noises and flashing and spinning lights. i have a headache. i dont want to breath because of the smoke and i dream of the open space of the desert. but i am here - watching history in the making. and i can't but help learn more about myself in the process of introspection. or is that because that's what always happens in the desert. those illuminations will have to wait to another post though. for now i want to help celebrate.

lost in lone pine

my pal brian pinged me a few weeks ago to join him to follow the green race called "escape from berkeley". ive been watching the development on this project from the beginning. of course im delighted because i myself escaped from berkeley several years ago. but i like the difficulty of the project - to engineer a car to run on scavenged fuel and then "race" to vegas. i thought i wouldn't be able to attend - so i turned my friend down. but the world works in strange ways and a door opened. so im here in a bar listening to classic rock like the doors and mamas and papas and grace slick - some really good stuff actually. just killing time shooting the shit in lone pine waiting for the racers to arrive.

Rx

Well, this has been one hell of a Mercury retrograde. I am flabbergasted at the amount of miscommunication I have witnessed. I am reminded that people see things from their point of view, most of the time with attachments and or baggage. OK, so I admit, sometimes I'm in that group. But the majority of the time I spend outside of my POV trying to understand where people are coming from. That's the fun part. Getting to know a new view - understanding the motivation, the person. So you can better work together for a common goal.

I forget how judgmental people are. Most of the time, I reserve my judgment. You see, it just takes up too much energy to make an assumption on limited data. I like to give people chances. It's like the books I've been reading on random theory.

A friend of the past used to make snap decisions about people. On more than one occasion, she'd meet someone and immediately dislike them. For me, even if I got a weird vibe and there was no click, I'd try to understand where they were coming from. Not write them off. Give the benefit of the doubt.

But people make assumptions. They judge. Don't give the benefit of the doubt. And twist your words in their own mind. This leads to misunderstandings.

I should know this by now. But I forget. Because I try to focus on the positive (except when I'm angsting about the negative) and expect people to be their better self. Bad, Heather. You should know better, especially with Mx doing his interference thing.

Stories

I've been thinking about this story a lot recently.

Old man Yun lives in a small village near the mountains in China. He has a son and a horse.

One day,the horse runs away. The neighbours and villagers say to him,"What bad luck, your only horse has run away. How will you plough your fields now?"
Yun replies,"Bad luck, good luck who knows?"

The horse comes back a few months later with a horde of wild horses. Now he has six strong horses. The villagers say,"What good luck!"Yun says,"Good luck, bad luck who knows!"

His young son helps to tame them. While doing so,one of the horses kicks out upon his leg and breaks it. The villagers come and say,"Bad luck,now your young son has broken his leg. Who will help you now?"
Yun replies,"Bad luck, good luck who knows!"

A big war comes on. The soldiers of the king come and take away all the healthy young men of the village for the army. They take one look at Yun's son's broken leg and leave him there.
Yun says,"good luck, bad luck who knows!"

Good Luck,Bad luck who knows..;)
(Source)

Good luck, bad luck, who knows. The only thing we can all do is follow our hearts, our passion - because otherwise we die long before our bodies turn to ash.

Existentialist Looking for Meaning

I finished _The Drunkard's Walk_ last night. A really nice roundabout book on chance, with a good set of examples - including the "Let's make a deal" - car behind one of 3 doors, goats behind the other 2. You pick one. The host shows you a door you didn't pick - it's got goats. He gives you a chance to change your selection. Is it better odds to do so. The short answer is yes. It goes from a 1 in 3 chance to a 1 in 2. Joe Matt, pornish comic artist, told me about this such example a few months ago.

Anyway, reading chapter after chapter explaining the chance in everything - that really much is chance and nothing has meaning - or rather - the meaning is understood after the event, reminded me of my existentialist tendencies. I wouldn't say I was a hard core existentialist, but I did do my share reading Camus, Sartre, de Beauvior and Kafka. (Was Kafka existentalist?) Anyway, after that bout, I found religion - or spirituality. Esoteric patterns and methods explaining the universe. Secret paths, knowledge. I worked hard to understand them. That sh*t is dense. Ever try to read Blavatsky or Gurdjieff? It's a completely different language. Imagine reading A Clockwork Orange w/out knowing any Russian or having the helpful glossary nearby and multiply that by 10. It's what I like to call, Light Commuter Reading.

Anyway, this morning I woke up thinking about Existentialism and the pointlessness of everything if it's all a random, chance happening. Now, I know the opposite can also be true. Hell, I've spent the last 5+ years of my life "intending" it to unfold the way I desired. Did my efforts actually have anything to do with it? Or did I just have a few good years where the coin toss was heads, and then was tails and I wondered where my mojo went?

I got a glimpse of the answer this morning. And the book talks about it. It hinges on the illusion of control. If I look at myself, I don't really control anything. My body breathes, eats, drinks, shits, twitches because of automatic functions. But those aren't the only automatic functions. We're all programed. I'm programmed to think intelligence, beauty and efficiency are top. Some of those things, I programmed myself. Others teachers or parents or boyfriends programmed me.

I'll stop with that frame of thinking for now, because it's a long dark rabbit hole, that I do enjoy going down, but it not my point.

The point is, around everything we do, is an illusion of control. If you think you are in control, you'll be happier, have more volution and energy. If you don't feel like you're in control, you'll die. There are two studies in the book that prove this dramatically. Both in rats and elderly people.

So if you think like an existentalist, you may have a shorter lifespan - unless you are well adjusted to living randomly (and some people are - they in fact, thrive on it). But if you're someone who needs meaning to take you through your life, you'll see things that make your meaning. That's the RAS. Reticular Activating System (in your brain!).

So yeah, things do happen randomly. And they happen for a reason. It's up to you to see the reason. And the reason you see depends on your RAS, your language for interpreting the world. And it doesn't matter that it's truly random. Truly Random/Meaningful = both sides of the coin.

At what point does the intention of the author stop and the interpretation of the reader begin? And the extrapolation that matters is the creative expression of energy.

In the words of Ghandi, "It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you do it."

MSM and the Dog

Puppernut has an uncanny coincidence rate. He sometimes does things that look like they are in response to something he's "overheard". Usually it involves licking someone more than someone else. But yesterday a new syncronicity was found.

In the morning the boyf and I were talking about sad things we don't like to think about. He mentioned that it would be really sad when Romeo wouldn't be able to leap up anymore - and we both paused to think about our future old dog, no teeth trying to jump. This image barely formed in my mind when I snatched up the bottle of MSM on the table. For some reason I bought a bottle of this "joint supplement". Because I noticed my body being achier due to old age (which I don't believe) or stress (which I do believe). Anyway I snatched up the bottle and was waving it around saying, "Well, then I'll just start to give him MSM!" in an energetic singsong voice. Shaking the bottle of MSM supplements generally riling up everyone at the table. Sam and I joked and laughed for a while more and then went on to finish up at home and go about our paved roads to work.

When we got home and were hanging out playing with the dog in the bedroom, I looked over to his "kill pile" - this is where he takes his "kill" aka toys, treats, whatever he had caught/collected to devour - and what did I see? The bottle of MSM! It was as if he understood what we were talking about at the breakfast table and not wanting to get old, decided to start taking it himself! Of course the real answer is that it was random (and after reading several books on random order, order in random numbers, random theory, there's a statistical chance that what Romeo did was by pure chance.) But I like to think he really understood us. It makes life more interesting.

Bootie LA Reprise

I'm bringing the crew back to Bootie LA for our traditional Halloween show. It's gonna be awesome!

Weekend Offline

I took last weekend offline. Saturday morning I shut down my computer and didn't boot it up until I was in the office on Monday. It was much much needed. Since starting the day job, I've been online a lot and I was becoming cracked out. Eyes hurting, headache, stressed, having negative association with my beloved laptop. Creativity drained, drinking and even the occasional clove. Then that David Byrne song lyric started up in my head "how did I get here?" and I knew I was doomed. I had been sucked into the windy arms of the tornado - one that was not of my own doing. I was battered and flung around like beer cans in a trailer park.

Where was my patented heathervescent outtheredness while utterly grounded to this earth? LOLnot.

So I went offline and read. Continuing with my love of numbers and analysis I plowed through "The Drunkards Walk" - a book on mathematics history, chaos, order and theory. This has been an inspiring read coming on the heels of Predictable Irrationality. It brought to light something I was not taking into consideration with possibilities. The probability of the possibility. Lights went off all over heather's synapses. And my book list grew adding tomes by Fourier, Sir Principia and ultimately the burning desire to take Calculus.

Again the David Byrne song begins. But it's immediately mashed up and I find myself at Bootie LA, front stage with kindred spirit Anna and her boyf watching Lady Tigre mashing up her songs live. Only hours ago the three of us sat sipping green tea from my great Nana's pre-WW2 German China, munchy-wunching on cookies and a beautiful cheese plate. Sharing stories from the summer. A dry country, a state-line bar, stories and adventures. Discussions of sovereigns and the trillion dollar meltdown.

Each day I take in the essences. I try not to look at my investment accounts. I try to get and stay grounded in the eye of the tornado. And I try to follow my passions, my dreams. The internet scrambled my brain. Taking the two days off gave me the ability to remember and become who I really am.

Drops of water

I keep having this vision in my head. I'll be thinking about the 70s or reading mathematics from the last century, or I'll get a flash on developing the computer and then I'll see the future in the past. These are water drops from the future deluge - powerfully thrown back in time. Retrocausation on a social scale? Retrocausation hasn't even been proven as a valid theory. Foreshadowing? Can a literary technique manifest in reality? Who  knows. But I do know the feeling along with the vision. It's as if these times in the past, were surrounded by water drops of the future. I'll try to explain it, if you'll hold judgement that I'm not crazy.

Say you're a plant and for the first 6 months you're watered with just regular water. Then at the 6 month point your plant owner discovered miracle grow and starts adding it to your water. Now imagine that it was possible for some of the miracle grow water to magically land in your pot in your first 6 months. (Maybe the neighbor used it in her plants and occasionally watered her neighbors with her left over water.)

That's what I mean. A taste of the future in the past.

I can't shake this feeling. The vision of the future that I usually hold so clear is foggy. But seeing these drops of clarity in the past give me hope for what comes in the near future.

Too early

I was going to write a whole long post about politics, but it's too depressing.

Sam and I celebrated 3 years Wednesday. Our first date was NIN at the Hollywood bowl three years ago. I miss the person I was at that time. So light-hearted and full of creative ideas, vision and action.

Then my mom came into town on Thursday for the Neil Diamond show at the Hollywood Bowl. I put her up at the Magic Castle and had fun doing all the usual heathervescent LA things.  She's decided that we should try out to be on the Amazing Race. I've never seen the show but we had a lot of laughs over the questionnaire, reminiscing about our travels around the world. My mom is really pretty cool and has a lot of fun stories.  (She was a flight attendant for TWA for 30-40+ years?). I remember her flying the troops in and out of Iraq during the first gulf war. And she told me about the citizen medal she received for her service.

Then there were the airports with 18 year olds and machine guns. I remember seeing them myself on my first trip to Eqypt when I was 14. They didn't phase me then. I guess I have a thing for guys in uniforms with lots of firepower. My mom also had the chance to sell me in Eqypt. I think the highest bid she got was 10k camels - and yes, they were serious. I was a white skinned, blonde corn-silk 14 year old innocent girl from the Midwest. Then there was the time in Turkey where I was the only blonde haired girl I saw the entire trip. And the historic hotel in Aswan on the Nile, where Agatha Christie wrote Murder on the Nile.

Questions like, where wouldn't you go? how has your partner dissapointed you? etc, bought up laughs and memories. Like my baton/beauty pagent competitions. I never really got beyond Beginner level - but I still took home trophies, plaques and banners. I once was Miss Spring Beauty and I still have my baton.

Then there were the questions about driving and with my stunt car training and my mom's recent racing of her Jaguar, I suggest we enter road races as driver/navigator. I quipped I hate running so I'd just get a motorcycle with sidecar for our "Amazing Race."

It was also really cute to see my mom excited about her blog. She even made business cards and was handing them out to everyone. Over coffee yesterday morning she grilled me on how to increase readership to her blog and shared her highest hit pages. So here I am giving my mom my professional tips and a little fearful that she's soon be on twitter and reading and following web 2.0 bloggers.

But I can see how excited she is to share her stories. And they are amazing stories (like when she met some of the 9/11 terrorists on one of their survalence flights).  So I'm excited for her.

Anyway, I have to motivate to make an exploding cake for a friend's birthday today and meet them at the shooting range, so I'll wax about mom's stories later.