heathervescent

adventure

How do you define adventure?

Here's my first crack:

Adventure = movement + creativity + awareness + vulnerability + new.

effervescent

G and I spent the day at the beach today. I was apprehensive, because being the goal orientated person I am, I feel like I haven't done anything unless I've made progress on my projects. Taking time off and having fun is a difficult thing for me to allow myself to do. Especially now that I'm working full time on my own company (and talking to friends and family about two additional ones.) It's all about working for myself, doing what I am best at: building innovative new products and launching them.

But today, we went to the beach. It's been a year since I moved to Los Angeles. Here's what I did last year on this day. I was in love with Playa del Rey. And today, G and I went to my favorite beach. We layed out and watched the airplanes take off. We frolicked and splashed in the waves. I stayed in a long time. Diving and jumping in the waves. Splashing in the froth and effervescent. Who needs a massage therapist? Just spend a day at the beach.

We agreed that we live in the best place in the world at the best time (the future is now). As we walked down the Venice boardwalk, seeing old faces and shops, I remarked that I've been living life like I'm on vacation for a year now. I was so happy and felt refreshed. And we agreed that these risks we take only seem like risks in the future, for in the past they become the obvious choice. Is it the only time you are on solid ground that the world seem unstable around you? If so, I've got to get used to this rocking.

quiet on the front

I've been quiet here on the blog for a while. it's not because I don't have anything to write, it's because I keep deleting my blog posts before the get posted. It's frustrating and I'm tired of typing the same thing three times. So I stopped. Life continues to be exciting for me. I had great meetings with my business partners last week. There is a lot of work to do and I wish I was more disciplined, but you can only work as fast as the universe will let you. I could do well to use the space between these sprints in good ways.

I kind of puttered the entire weekend away. There were no big plans and everything was spontaneous. Today's big chore was washing the floor. Although it's hard to get me motivated, I actually love cleaning once I start. And as much as I hate washing the floors, I am actually quiet satisfied once I am down on my hands and knees scrubbing away. I like to use the pippi longstocking style of floor washing - using my feet instead of a mop, except when I actually have to scrub. I have tile throughout my house and much of it is scuffed up from the previous occupants. It's been difficult to get the scuff marks up and depressing because the tile looks all dirty. But today I used a new tile cleaner and with a lot of elbow grease it took the black marks off. Or the ones I at least put my arm into.

Then the cleaning craze set in and I couldn't stop. And now I want to rearrange my entire room and get rid of the couch. Not to mention my car.

On that note, I am totally crazy for a 4x4. I love love love driving the snob. It's such a fun car. I feel like a rock star or movie star when I drive it - and I am - the star of my own life. But I sooooo want to head off into the desert and those BLM roads (now, don't think I'm only talking about Burning Man here). And, gosh darn it, the snob is a bit too much of a princess and I can't even think to take her on a gravel road. (I learned to drive on a gravel road.) And I think it's excessive to have multiple vehicles (although I have one that sits in my garage... the nighthawk). So I'm thinking it's time to sell her and get a beefy 4x4 manual truck.

I hate coming to this realization, but I know it's time. When things go well with the company I'll go back to pink and blue hair and buy a classic convertible. It's a good goal to have. That's how I'll know I've made it.

Monster Films

Does this look awesome. I think so! Rock on Monsters.

new skills: a welding I can go

I've spent the last 3 days learning a new skill... melting metal together... aka welding. Yes, now I can make a fairly decent weld as well as grind and plasma cut and you know, like build a fire cauldron with 15 of my new friends. (Photos coming courtesy of Jamie.)

I remember the yellow-green glow of the metal through my auto-reflecting helmet as I welded. I was transfixed. Me and the metal. It's really no surprise. I have a love affair with my car, my motorcycle, and other mechanical things. Why not the very stuff they are made of? And the ability to manipulate it. Or at least stick it together. Or is it the "glue that dries clear" that interests me so much? Or fascination with a skill I have wanted to learn for so long?

So yeah. The sculpture is going to Burning  man and I am too. I've come home late, covered in sweat and grime and stink and exhausted three days straight. Tonight a burn on my right arm and phone number on the left. I'm about to take a shower and clean the stink off. The skills remain. Now I just need some welding equipment. It's time to make office furniture.

I am in control

I know that just by typing up this post, my life will go into a completely unbeknownst to me direction, but I type it none-the-less. The past few days and weeks I've had this feeling of ... I don't know... complete control over my life. That I am living exactly the life I dreamt of. And yet, I am not in control. And yet, I am in control. I don't know every little thing that will happen. Nor am I necessarily upset by things happening in life. Perhaps it's because I know I can change my perspective or attitude and be fine with various situations. But it's also because of a new view based on my experience with my Grandmother's death. Everything in my life pales to that experience. Because of seeing death, I know that I can accomplish anything I could possibly want in my life. There is a series of steps and there you go. You do it. You align your self, your attitudes, your power, your energy and (like Nike has trademarked) Just. Do. It.

This is a liberating feeling. I look at the goals for this year and how I am on track with them. Then I think about the biggest challenge I currently face. Getting my company funded. (A big secret I don't really talk about on the blog.) But even that is doable and I will succeed. So what next. What huge big goals can I put in front of me like a carrot for the adventure that is my life. It took a mere walk in the woods on Mt Wilson yesterday to solve that problem. To allow my mind to dream really really big. Of course I have dreams of property and building houses and community and being an artist in a warehouse in Tuscan. And all those things used to be pie in the sky dreams. However now, I can see the direct path to making them my reality. A very clear, yet twisted, tangled, turned back upon itself path, but a clear one none-the-less.

So beyond that. What can I dream? Walking around Mt Wilson, I dreamt of a desert mountain with a dome, hammocks and telescope. How cool would that be? What about a scientific discovery that would change the course of humanity or science or the way we see our world? Now, that's a worthy lofty goal. A challenge to change the world scientifically in a significant way. So there dear world. That's the new challenge for Heather's adventure of life. Not one that I will start on anytime soon, but a kernel in the back of my head to percolate and gather energy, as I pay attention to the world in which I walk.

Spider Nest

My bathtub is a haven for spiders who have a death wish. More often than not, when I slide the curtain across in the morning there is a spider in there waiting for the hot water. They come in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes I don't notice until their bodies are floating in the boiling water. Sometimes I scoop them out and put them in the trash, or on the floor. I have trouble killing spiders, even black widows who scurry out from buckets in the yard.

When I was 16, I would name the spiders that would find their way in my room and make a web up in one of the tall corners. (My bedroom had a very high slanted ceiling.) I would look at the spider before I went to bed and then when I woke up in the morning. One morning, I looked up and there was no spider. (The spiders I might add, were small black ones - probably your garden spider variety, not black widows.) I lifted my sleep head and looked at my pillow. I had had the distinct feeling that the spider was close to me. There on my white flannel pillowcase was the black spider. It would have been right in the nest of my blonde hair. This did not freak me out in the least. Nor did I flick the spider off my pillow. Instead, the sleepiness of my mind plopped my head back on the pillow and went to sleep in the sunlight. Later when I woke up, the spider was back in its web.

After that experience, it makes it really hard for me to kill spiders. So what to do with those in my bathtub? I'm keeping my mind open for solutions. But the real solution is to have the spiders not end up there.

Not Actually a Literary Evening

What started out as a reading of The Curious Sofa, turned into a catfight. Fun for all was had. I'd also like to point out that both the dress and the pearls were my Grandmother's.

theme?

Can you spot a theme in these photos?

Grace is dead. Long live Grace.

The most important person, so far, in my life is dead. The person I looked up to. Wanted to be. Was delighted by. Spent many hours with. Traveled to exotic locations. Ate dinner with. Drank with. Slept in the same bed with. Is gone. But she is not gone. Everywhere I turn my head, even to my wrist, to my fingers, she is there. In the air I breath. She is not gone. She is not forgotten. She cannot be. She is me.

She has the best long fingernails and I remember their scratching on my childhood back. They were always painted fabulous colors and very long. Perfect. Perfect in her death. I know. I painted them.

She gave me coffee milk when there was the blizzard at the Ottumwa Airport. I would put on my roller skates and roll around in her basement. I'd have Christmas many times over down there. And I'd look over the slides of photos from her travels to Kenya and see people who were long dead. Her brothers who died in the war. Her older sisters. People I would never know, but as my 7 year self was interested and promised to know them in that one instant of viewing through the basement window lights. And I knew them.

She had the best series of last names I have ever experienced. She started Brown, then was Hangen, then Green and finally Young. She died Young at the age of 80. An early age due to mis-management of her hip replacement. A stupid reason she lost her balance.

Many of my memorable times in my life have been with her. And she is the first of my family to die. I have 3 grandparents alive. But none like her. None had the impact that she did. I wake up looking at her furniture. I eat off her plates, with her silverware. My favorite jewels (other than earrings, she never had pierced ears) are hers and I wear them often. The majority of the furniture in my house (and this includes G's stuff too) is her's. Not was hers. Is. Still. Hers. I just happen to be using it right now. And will use it a long time. Use it out I hope, or pass it on. To my brother or maybe some child. And as I have thought of her many times in the past many years as I wrap my fingers around her colored glass plates and goblets: elegant, strong, passionate, vibrant, cultured and outlived life. Even at the end, she wiped her mouth with a napkin. She died in elegant peace. She was at peace and I know how her last moment was spent and the release and acceptance she felt in the next moment.

the cake score

One of my favorite things ever to do is to bake. Bake cakes and pastries and crisps and breads! I am a fan a pastry. I love flour. And I love experimenting and trying new things. What a wonderful life I lead back in the early days of Jacare, when I wrote lots of recipes. Ah the happy married life. Holiday Chocolate. Curry Chicken. And Cake. For the brave: Tinctures. I have dared many a man to drink my Valerian tincture. Prior to Jacare recording of my culinary abilities, I would pound the flour on a pine table making breads: french, pita, puff pastry, phyllo and croissant dough. I'd fold and butter and roll and fold and butter and roll and fold again. I'd fill them with nuts and spices and honey. Big pies of lasagna, Brazilian codfish, pots of hearty soup. Are you hungry yet? I am.

I've taken a hiatus from the cooking insanity. No more broiled swordfish with couscous. It's funny how the foods I eat now are different than even the steak and salad of a year ago.

Anyway, I'm baking cakes for the Speakeasy Ball on Saturday night and I've picked out two styles of cake I  love. Red Velvet Cake and Pineapple Upside down cake. One afternoon when I worked in San Francisco, I called over 40 bakeries and NONE of them knew what I was talking about when I asked for Red Velvet Cake. I researched and found a recipe. (It's in the Cake link above.)

And in my research I found the mother load of cake recipes. Some are pretty amazing and as soon as I go off this diet (which G and I started only yesterday) I'll be having afternoon tea and cake in the future. Alaska Sourdough Fruitcake. Ambrosia Cake. My brother's favorite "Better than Sex Cake". (There are a total of 20 recipes for this cake on the site). And I could go on, but I won't. Go to the site and check it out and get inspired. I'll let you know when I'm throwing the tea party. (Where I'll make this one: Egyptian Chocolate Cake.

Ha Ha LA Traffic

Who needs to worry about LA traffic when you've got this. Oh yeah, I love it. I want it. I've been talking about getting a big beefy truck. I mean, this is what the war is all about baby?! Midwest Pinzgauer

massage in LA

After the past two weeks of jam packed stress, I was in dire need of a massage. However, I live on the opposite side of town now (Mt Washington compared to Santa Monica) and have totally succumbed to the attitude that "West LA is just too far away for me to drive all the way out there." It's true, thinking about taking the 10 or even going to the Grove/Farmer's Market seems like a trip across the universe. So there was very little incentive to trek all the way to Sawtelle (which I LOVE LOVE LOVE because I have a thing for Asian-Americans and Asian culture) to get the best rub down in LA at the Massage Therapy Center. Yes, that was the best massage I ever had in LA. Yes, if you live in West LA, you should go there now and suck up and pay their rate and be sure to tip them mightily, because they totally rock. Ask for Grace.

Anyway, I digress. I spent hours online trying to find a decent massage place 15 minutes from my house without trekking even to Hollywood. I finally broke down and got a website from a friend. (InsiderPages.com and Citysearch.com both FAILED to help me. I guess it's far true that most of citysearch is about 4+ years old.)

Anyway, I found the most amazing tiny little place in Los Feliz, on Hillhurst, called Bahn Sabai. I called them up and was able to get in 45 minutes later. They offer all kinds of massages including thai, hot stone & reflexology, have a massage happy hour (cheaper rates) M-W 10am-2pm, facials, body treatments, waxing, etc. It's not the Massage Therapy Center - with a locker room, steam room, snacks, etc, but it's good enough for me. They even have parking in the back. And did I mention I was on the table 45 minutes after I called them cold?! Yes, they were good and I'll go back again. And if you live in the hipster land east side and are looking for a massage, check them out. Or let me know your secret fav.

p.k. dick and pulp science fiction

I love the guy. I love his stories. I love the ideas he writes about in his stories, but man... they are so simplistic. They're pulp science fiction. They're Keanu Reeves when there was Harrison Ford. But he's still tasty.

I'm reading a few more pk Dicks in the stack Barbarino lent me years ago. The past two days have been: A Maze of Death. It's interesting for sure, but pales in comparison to Dan Simmons. Rereading the final of the Hyperion series, Rise of Endymion, was just amazing. I love these four books. I could read them over and over. Simmons has an amazing mind, he tells amazing stories, has great characters and they are chock full of adventure as well as that love and sex thing. I mean, this IS a science fiction story, who are his readers. Oh, I'm one. Still, all these characteristics make Dan Simmons probably my favorite author - right up there with Jonathan Carroll, who I'd practically fly to Vienna to have coffee with but I'm not into author worship. Anyway, I guess this means I'll have to go out and buy Illium as well as the new Carroll very soon.

Fellow readers, send me your book suggestions.

stress, detachment and being important

Earlier this year I talked about my life in terms of roller coaster rides. I had a lot of big stressful things going on that needed to be resolved. A variety of tracks to keep my focus on. In the past month, many of them have completed and I'm getting off the coaster. And my stress is declining.

It's always a challenge coming off of stress. I generally have no problem dealing with an increasing stress load: corporate job, family, divorce, various house drama, new business, etc. The stress builds to a point where my body copes the same way with any additional stress. The strange part for me is always returning to "everyday normal life". Well, as everyday and normal that my life can be as I try to live it by the seat of my pants. Coming down off of stress is difficult, because I've been dealing with such a high level that when it subsides, I feel like something is missing. And it is.

I first noticed this working in the tech industry. There's always the insane work crazy hours before a push, build, QA drop, release, launch, event, etc. Followed  by the lax work days and vacation following. I found that I would feel so important in the pre-launch moments, when I was super busy and the stress increased. I had to be there to solve the problems. I was the one who got the *product, event, etc* out. And when that time was over, I didn't feel that important, because I was not needed at the same pressure level. When I noticed this pattern, I didn't really like it, so I decided to break it.

First I realized that even if I wasn't there, things would get done. I, personally, was not vital to the solution. Yes, I solved the problem, maybe better, maybe worst, maybe faster, maybe slower, but my fellow humans have resources as well and they would have solved the solution someway. This observation gave me the ability to detach myself from my work.

Next I noticed that as certain stressful situations were in decrease others were in increase - like a law of conservation of stress. And that it took a lot of effort and awareness to actively manage the stress load and generally decrease it.

When I was detached from the stress it didn't matter how much drama was going on. Alternately,  there is a breaking/turning point, when the stress no longer has meaning and a forced detachment ensues.

Which lead me to try, why not utilize detachment at any time in the stress cycle? (I would suggest detachment a fabulous exercise for any time.) Being detached offers freedom from many things. Reaction, judgments, feeling important. Of course I'm not always detached - and being detached is often a difficult practice for me with my passion and energy for life. But as a former colleague would say to me, "Why would you want to be perfect? The moment you reach perfection, the next movement is away from perfection. You want to always be approaching perfection."

That's good advise to remember.

Being detached has a "dark" side as well. Detaching too much from your world, your life, your personality remove a vital anchor point. But I'll talk about that in another post at a later time. And there's a technique that allows the zipping between a fully engaged yet detached way of life.

pet peeves and other habits of heather

I try to be aware of my habits and behavior that would be potential pet peeves to other people and have identified some pretty good ones.

Pet Peeve of Heather #1: Half-empty cups of coffee left around the house
I love coffee and basically keep a cup around me like a child's blanket. I take it into the shower with me, I keep it in the bathroom, in my closet and on various surfaces in my room. Then there is the garden and various terraces to leave it out on. The cups are generally 1/2 to 1/4 full of left over cold coffee. Because I drink half and half in my coffee a white circle and slight skin forms on top. If left around too long the liquid evaporates. I personally don't have a problem leaving these cups of coffee around as I eventually take them back to the kitchen. But I think this could be a problem for a potential co-habitor. Currently my roommate is not bothered by this.

Pet Peeve of Heather #2: Too much balsamic vinegar
When tossing the salad with oil and vinegar separately (if I am lazy or don't have time to make a full dressing) I throw on the oil first and then the vinegar. I generally always end up putting too much balsamic on it. I don't have a problem with the last dregs of red pepper and greens drowning in balsamic, but certain co-habitators of the past had big issues with this to the point of not allowing me to dress the salad.

Pet Peeve of Heather #3: Forgetting about moderation
Coming home drunk and not behaving like my usual self. *sigh* at least I am somewhat entertained by my antics, but barely. Thank god it doesn't happen that often.

Habit of Heather #1: Bagging my own groceries
It's generally when I'm in Trader Joes, these days the Silverlake Trader Joes. I get in line and as the guy is ringing me up I go to the other side of the counter and start bagging my groceries. I LOVE doing this. It's a challenge to take the groceries as they've been scanned and put them in the bags so the pieces fit together. It's not necessarily the cold items together, but not necessarily not. I just like to have a really nicely packed grocery bag and not have my stuff, which I have lovingly picked out, thrown into the nearest sack.

Back to the Future

I'm home. To the place I love the most. As my flight descended into Burbank tonight and I glimpsed the foggy haze, I didn't care what the weather was. I was home. Little sprouts, a walk in the neighborhood, my palm frond bedroom and the coolness of a Lost Angeles night.

Speakeasy Ball - Get your tickets now!

Not promising you'll see me with my clothes, not promising you'll see me without my clothes. Either way, you'll see me there.

Mad props to Splat in Oakland who designed this awesome poster. In addition, Splat's the guy who got me totally hooked on Theory Radio when I had my corporate job. Be sure to check him out and the station too. I'll be appearing on a regular basis very soon.

breather

I know the blog has been full of my current item of focus: my dying grandmother. In the past week, I have learned an amazing amount of information. Practical, spiritual, emotional. I know about medicines, care and treatment and extrapolate that to what my wants and needs will be. I have learned things about myself - the characteristics and traits I have inherited from my blood. This is a topic I've thought about a lot and am composing an article post on it in my head along with my thoughts on the Rapture - yes, that New Testament thing written about in the Bible. I've learned more about my own limitations and beliefs. A lot of fodder from the fields of the Midwest. I'm packing up the bails and shipping them back to Burbank tomorrow. Back to normal as much as can be. Back to working on my company, to my neighborhood, to time with friends as I continue on this adventure that is my life.

death from both sides of the mirror

The past few days I have spent in a hospital room with my dying grandmother. She is the one person in this universe who I am the closest to and because of our connection some very interesting things have occurred. I have been dreaming of her, even before I took a flight to the Midwestlast Tuesday. In my dreams, I saw her in a hospital room, I saw myself in the room with her. And I now have experienced being in that room with her in the linear time we call reality.

I arrived on Tuesday evening and went straight to the hospital from the airport. Everything was as I had dreampt it. I sat down and held her hand. She looked as I had seen her in my dreams. She expressed some things and I immediately recognized them. I knew exactly what she was experiencing and what she was trying to communicate.

I was a bit shell shocked and went home to sleep. That night I had many dreams, dreams from my grandmother’s side of the mirror. In the morning I was left with tiny fragments of the dream, however in the course of the day, the fragments became pieces of a broken mirror.

As I spent time with my grandmother; talking, listening to music, feeding her, taking care of her, I had an interesting déjà vu feeling. I felt like I was living the same experience, but from another point of view, from another person. In my dreams, I was my grandmother. I knew the difficulty of focusing, trying to communicate, the pain, the release of pain. I was her in my dreams and heather during the daytime. It’s not that I knew the future when I awoke, my activities during the day triggered my dream memories and the mirror fragments slowly reformed. The difficulty of coughing, eating, giving up eating, being moved, the pain, giving up on living, but not knowing how to die. The enjoyment of music, listening to someone reading, the frustration when not being understood, frustration of body unable to respond.

Then there was the glimpse of respite. The crack opened with light: unknown, and the fear and recoil into the difficulty of pain, color, the world, the known. The light was such a respite, a calm, coolness from the fiery heat of my life. But still the fear and the preference in the known. And then the …moment... when death arrives or comes or I go into the light. And the calming feeling of, why was I afraid?, why didn’t I go sooner and trust? and the compete acceptance of everything I was as I flew into the crack and something completely new expanded and ... and I have no words for what I saw.

I know not how to express what I saw, but I experienced my grandmother’s upcoming death in my dreaming. I experienced it viscerally, physically as she will experience it in the next few days. It is a distinct reminder that we are all beings about to die. And I thank the universe, my grandmother and my energy for this wonderful view.

surreal

It's day 5 in the hospital and my worldview is completely warped. Everything is surreal. I know of two places, the hospital and my mom's house. Last night, I started to enjoy the hospital. It's where I spend most of my waking hours. The cool thing about the hospital is that people are here and up late at night. I have always loved teeming buildings in the middle of the night when the teeming is arrested.

I used to do the overnights at a radio station. I'd arrive Friday night at 9:45pm and stay until 7:45am. I had the entire place to myself. I'd wander around the library (sometimes it was unlocked) and into the other studios (yes, I did recordings). I'd do my breaks and tune into the satellite feeds and answer the phone calls of guys trying to pick me up. I'd skip down to the first floor to check my email and get on the BBS (back when I used a monochromatic monitor to access the "Internet"). I was fine doing these late nights. Before taking this gig, I used to do my own radio show until the wee hours (well, Midnight, when they shut down the station.) I'd finish with the off the air spot and then shut down or put on my 2+ hours of reggae mix and lock up. I'd wander around the building and finally step outside into the evening. Sometimes it was a blizzard. Sometimes it was hot and moist and I'd pretend I was somewhere else.

I have that feeling of emptiness and quiet here in the hospital. It's calm (most of the time, when the IV occlusion alarm isn't going off) and has that surreal feeling late at night. (Same as working late at the Internet start-up with the glow of the monitor light.) I step out into the cool moist air at midnight on my way home. The trees in the streetlights, full with their lush leaves. The shadows. Driving fast (but not as fast as I want) on wide open freeways. (Where's the snob with the top down and hand on the stick when I need her? Oh, she's in the future!) For some reason I'm able to find a wide variety of music that is acceptable to me on the radio. Ranging from classic rock to Oakland rap with a fair splattering of Pet Shop Boys, New Order and Earth, Wind and Fire. When I spent my time here, over a decade ago, I could not find acceptable music on the radio at all. So now, my finds make me wonder, have I turned into that adult contemporary listening person or have the radio offerings expanded? I'm scared to know the truth. But truth matters little to me these days as I take moment by moment and live and relive various lives in my dreams and with this body. And dream of a future in California. A house with Cypress trees, a purple door and a dog. A convertible, driving gloves and twisty roads. Moist mornings, bright days and walks in the canyon. These are dreams of a different life. A life I hope to return to soon enough.

in denial

Today I'm in denial and trying to submerge myself in science fiction stories and thoughts of various boys on Heather's crush list. It's not working very well. I dreampt all night of business plans and launch documents. Of deep blue David Lynch curtains and the people who move between them.

today sucks

There's pressure from all sides and I just don't have the energetic bandwidth to deal with it all properly. I feel like a slacker, but that's just because I expect to be superwoman. Too many balls in the air. God damn it, I wish there was someone who could help me with this, but there's not and that's just fine, cause that which doesn't kill you, only makes you stronger. Or so they say.

Good news from Gloria cheered me up - apparently the seeds I planted on Sunday have started sprouting. I really can not wait to get home to see them myself. At least I found decent coffee today.

community and blogs

Here I am, sitting in a hospital room in Shawnee Mission, Kansas, watching my grandmother sleep and catching up on my Internet community of blogs. The hospital has wireless and for that I am grateful. I can check my mail and get caught up and somewhat pretend to have my normal existence. Normal existence means being with my computer and jacked into the community datasphere. (Ah that's the Hyperion series coming out.)

Which give me time to compose my thoughts on blogging. Blogs are no different than a web page. I don't really understand why the media and companies are buzzing about blogs. Blogs and the interface I use to blog is nothing more than a good UI slapped on a lot of standard web functionality. The face is the same, it's the mask that has changed. Blogs are just web pages. Communities of web pages. Like the dream of Geocities communities, except have a much better user interface - both in terms of viewing outputted content (template functionality has gotten easier and consistent) as well as inputting the content. It's the web applification of Dreamweaver. An old school network instead of all content lives ones place. (Although the server power is not diversified in a peer-to-peer way.Blogging is the web application interface to web creation.

So I'm not really blown away by blogging. And yet, it is a core activity. "Blogging" facilitates what I do - live, work, communicate, interact, meet and maintain relationships with myself and others. It's a medium. And we all know, the medium is the massage. Blogging for blogging sake doesn't really interest me that much. It's limiting  Like being a user interface advocate. Yes, it's important to advocate for the user, but the real work is in the doing. The creation. It's the content, baby. And the medium facilitates the content. It's what you're trying to get across. Why do you blog? To disseminate information? To feel important? To journal? To keep a record of the road? To garner buzz for your product? To create a feedback loop? To create a community? To meet people? These are all good and valid reasons.

Blogging makes it easy to put your conversation from lunch online. To jump online instantly and record something, like the first Netflicks only mailbox. Something you might read in email or hear directly from your friend. Blogging records conversations without limiting to a particular medium. (Email, IM, images, phone, audio). But blogging is another baby step along the way. Don't get caught by it's shine. It's the next tech fad - which is not bad in of itself, however, it will move along and get integrated and built upon.

Blogging in an of itself is not a marketing or business strategy. It's how you run your business and what you are trying to accomplish, sell, buy, do that will determine how blogging is threaded into your business. It's way to do PR, it's a way to gather customer feedback, to create a user group, test ideas and concepts, grow buzz through a cult of personality or productality.

The Four Distractions

It's always nice to have something to think about when the world is providing another opportunity for growth aka "challenge". I've got four distractions that take their turns in my brain when it's got an extra cycle: Books, Boys, Business and Blogs. Today I've been focusing on the first and last.

what you can take with you

you can't take money, jewels or even love. you take with you your memories of your life. your awareness of your adventures. you've got one shot, why worry about making mistakes? why not dare to take a risk?

as if I needed another reminder to live my life this way. maybe it's you my reader, who needs that reminder.

distractions and wide open sky

It's going to be a difficult week, but that's why distractions are so important (the three b's). A nice chat on the airplane makes the ride go faster and is pleasant as well as inspiring. Working on business numbers and marketing plans gives me a break from the heaviness of the hospital.

I had forgotten how wide the sky was and how open the plains. This is no homecoming. This place was never home to me. It was a mandatory stop with many lessons learned. Still there is beauty in the lush landscape and open fields. Still, I can't wait to get back to my city of Angels and a decent cup of coffee.

morning quote

"Until you value yourself, you won't value your time. Until you value your time, you will not do anything with it."
--M. Scott Peck

top down at night

It's been a rough day. Changes in plans. Emotional ups and downs. Looking forwards planned and dashed disappointments. The next week will be trying and rough. But I have the strength and power. The subtle and vulnerable. The sweet and caring. The daring and passion. The energy. This is a once in a lifetime experience. "Once in a lifetime, water flowing under ground...."

When the pressure gets too great, it's time for a break. Gloria and I went to dinner in Pasadena. I drove with the top down, the wind in our hair, Duran Duran on the radio. (Although I can't get the static on the radio song out of my head. The first time I heard that song, I swear I had heard it before on Taking Tiger by Strategy.) I speed along the Pasadena freeway dreaming of wearing a formal on a desert road trip coming someday soon. There are dreams out there and I'll dream them tonight, but tomorrow there is a flight and a dance to infinity.

cold clove morning

It's a cool monday morning. My open eyes adjust to the color purple. I draw open the drapes and overcast light filters in. I love a cool morning. I drink my coffee and look at yesterday's garden work. I pull on clothes and shoes and drag the dog to the canyon. I'm looking at the flowers, smelling the air, swishing through the grass. The dogs are quiet. I spy a cat sitting in a shaved hillside. I inspect the clean garage and Lady Knight as I walk home. It's time to get motivated. I have a lot to do.

digging in my mind

Physical labor is a good thing to do when you have a lot on your mind.

Over the weekend I cleared and dug and planted the terrace garden. It started out Saturday afternoon. I stepped outside to look at the terrace garden with a cup of coffee in hand and wearing my leather moccasins. I had taken a few people on a tour the night before. It was a mess. Weeds knee high and lots of potential. Jet-setting coast to coast doesn't give much time for picking weeds, something I enjoy immensely. I was attracted by the ready to be pulled state of my weeds and wasted no more time. Gardening focuses my body with physical labor as my mind is left to meander.

The past two days it's been a mix of memories of my life with my grandmother, my fabulous marriage currently in divorce, death of plants and animals and the excitement of the new. I pulled weeds and listened to XTC and The Thorns and Stereolab. I remembered my garden in Berkeley and picking the weeds there. My life and my husband. (Quote from Friday night: "Are you married?", "Yes, but not for long.") It was everything I wanted at the time. He was a great guy. We had a great marriage. And I am completely and totally happy being in my current life, which does not include him at all.

As I remembered my memories, I did not wish to be in my previous life. I have already lived it, loved it, and lived it and loved it at the same time. That's awareness for you. Here I was in a new garden, a new house, a new life, completely happy, remembering and experiencing so many emotions and experiences. How could Andy Partridge and Matthew Sweet write about my life so well?

I cleared the weeds, dug the dirt, sorted out the dead roots, raked the ground, broke up the stiff clods, raked some more. I laid down in and hand-sifted my garden dirt. I remembered so many times with my grandmother, Grace. She is the most important person in my life and she is dying. My love of coffee, back scratches, her fabulous painted nails. She was everything I ever hoped to be. I am honored to have her as an ancestor. She had an interesting and amazing life, but it was not easy. I was devastated when she moved back to California when I was 9. Of all the people I know or have ever met, she is by far the most important being to me. And she is dying.

I think of her as I sift the dirt. I filter the dead roots, the spoiled soil, rocks, broken glass out of my garden. She is dying hundreds of miles away. I have been lucky that I have not experienced death of any family my entire life. It does not pain me more or less that that one person that is the most important to me is taken first. Death is part of living. A young man died on Thursday a few blocks from my house. Someone just died somewhere. Death of even the most precious thing you can imagine. So I change my airplane ticket, I plant seeds, and water and remember the good times. I am thorough in my excavations, I take out each bit of unclean soil and break all the clods, so the soil is soft and ready to receive the seeds. Poppies, Foxglove, Sunflowers, Sweet Peas. Gloria will water them when I am gone.

murder scene

A young man was shot three blocks from my house on Thursday. There were news trucks and cop cars almost blocking the streets. Streets where we walk Moki every day. G and I often admire the view of the lights just a few feet from the scene. Last night a few friends were daring enough to go on a midnight walk by the murder scene. The moon was setting a fat orange slice and gave enough light to see the dark stain and vase of flowers.  We continued up the hill and stopped at the three stumps to admire the lights of downtown.

For some reason I'm not so concerned by living near or in a murder scene. Death is a part of life and violent death is not uncommon. I live my life knowing I can die at any instant and I try to remember this as much as possible. I think instead of the events that lead to the shooting. What was the issue about. A young man shot point blank. Blam, the end of his life. Who pulled the trigger? What was the disagreement about? Did the man make a remark about someones girlfriend? Was it atonement for some gang faux-pas? Was it excommunication? Was it someones entrance test? All these questions, no answers. Just a blood stain, vase of flowers and my thoughts as I walk the streets and enjoy the flowers.

Here's a link to a photo stolen courtsey of beFrank. A cynical viewer might say the name of the guy was Arney, and what did he expect to be on Killarney Street?

a daring adventure

Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature, nor do the children of men as a whole experience it. Avoiding danger is no safer in the long run than outright exposure. Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing.

--Helen Keller

reasons to wear a full face helmet

A friend's brother had a devastating motorcycle accident last week. I post her words here to remind us all to wear a full face helmet. And for those of you who are not motorcyclists, please watch out for us. Most of our accidents happen because you don't see us.

Since my brother Colin's motorcycle accident, I have become an outspoken advocate for full-face helmets. At the time of his crash, he was wearing a helmet that looks like a WWII German motorcycle helmet replica. 

Though it looked cool (to him), the consequences were devastating.  He broke EVERY bone in his face.  This included shattering both cheek (zygomatic) bones, breaking the occipital bones, shattering his nasal bone, fracturing his hard palate (I think this is the maxilla bone) and the frontal bone (part of skull above the eyes).  He broke his jaw (mandible) in two places (the front and on the right side where it attaches to the skull).  The mandible pierced the protective sac around the brain.  As well, he burst a blood vessel in his head and has a hematoma under the skull near his right temple.

Officer Rand of the Seattle Police Department returned the helmet to my brother at the hospital.  It didn't have a scratch on it.  Well, not until I took a chain saw to it....haha.

- Sarah

you're invited - Dare and Win

You're invited to Heather's Dare and Win party, Friday May 13th in the Future. This will be a celebration of taking risks and winning! Bring something daring (calculate the risk). Come prepared to dare. Maybe we'll play truth or dare. Or engage in daring things. Eat and drink daring food. (Bring some!) Email me at blog at heathervescent dot com if you need the coordinates. We'll start around 9.

what the construction worker say...

Since we moved into the Future a few months ago, the streets have been filled with construction workers. They are generally pretty nice, but create a huge racket and block the streets and generally make it impossible to relax. The future is full of dust, noise and orange suits. Most mornings I tease the backhoe loader guy to let me drive it. I haven't really been serious (nor really had the time).

But this morning's quote takes the cake. I'm telling them to do a lot of work (because I am tired of waking up every morning to rumbling metal plates) and one guy responses:

"We always do a lot of work, even if we're doing the wrong thing."

I just laughed and got in my car.

jumping with insane joy

One monkey almost off my back! Maybe both will jump off at the same time. Fabulous!

reflections on risk

E and I were talking about Risk at lunch today and I realized that every single big risk I have ever taken has changed and improved my life in ways I could not imagine. I don't think of risks as failures or successes. I think of risks in terms of fear. My difficulty lies in getting beyond the fear churn and act. Fear is crucial to a good risk. Feeling the fear lets you know you're not stupid. That there are consequences to consider. However fear and those consequences should not stop you from doing the risky item.

When I thought about the unhappy parts of my life, they came about by me NOT taking a risk. By being afraid to act. By being blind to what I really wanted to do. The more I lied to myself about not acting or allowing the fear to paralyze me, the harder it became to act, and in the end the bigger the leap to a distant Brigadoon.

It's as if by taking the jump the universe buoys you up. The moment your feet leave the ground, an invisible force comes from the unknown and lifts you up. The universe wants us to take these leaps of faith. It wants us to challenge ourselves and change and evolve. And it will do everything you imagine and much that you cannot imagine to help achieve that. To provide the ground to land when the leap complete.

new dreams, new focus

On my flight back from NYC I've been able to crystallize my next set of dreams. It's a new set of mountains to explore, if you could call it a mountain. It's a new set of challenges to overcome, if it mattered if they were overcome. Really, what it is, is living, fully, experience by experience not willy-nilly but with something in mind. There's a reason there was traffic on the way to LAX Friday. It came in the form of "coincidence" in the security line. Yet another grape from the vine of the universe.

However, I have stopped believing in coincidences.  Coincidence is manifested fits and starts of a human ability. I see coincidence as an inconsistent precursor to the ability to successfully dream your life. By dream your life I mean your ability to identify, define, manifest and live your life as you desire and imagine it. Full cycle from initial kernel in the mind to realization. Coincidence is a boon from the universe, it's not accidental, it is completely and utterly planned, even by you, even as it is spontaneous and unknown - that's the paradox of coincidence. It's the universe giving you what you need, require, to manifest your dream in reality. Or maybe it's not so tied to manifesting your dream, because maybe you haven't been specific. Maybe it just happens to be the monkey on the typewriter of your life adding a little randomness. Regardless I have stopped believing in coincidence and continued to dream my life. Maybe you'll join me and share how it goes.

new york weekend

On a somewhat planned whim G and I went to NYC this weekend. There were a few folks I attempted to meet up without any luck, but that was completely fine with me. I met new friends and hung out with S&E from LA who just happened to be in NYC too. I spent the days and nights walking around SoHo. Shopping for new shoes (2 new pair of high heels and some great Kangaroo comfy shoes!) and spending way too much time in Yellow Rat Bastard!. Dim Sun Saturday morning after an evening at Rumor, where I was a big hit in my chain mail pop tab outfit (see picture below). Saturday night I went out walking the streets after midnight and found some amazing shops. People kept stopping me and asking for directions and I was much amused by it. It was pouring buckets and my jeans and shoes got soaked. I finally stopped at a bistro/bar and took an outside table well into the wee hours. I nursed a glass of wine and watch the revelers.

I felt like a confidant phantom watching the personalities. Stage manager. Sitting on the side, watching the show. Seeing in an instant what someone is all about. How they hold their body, walk, move. How many worldviews can you hold? Can you be part of? Believe? How many worldviews can you experience? And this is where I my mind turns to television. And that television is the lazy man's enlightenment, except it's not enlightenment for a lazy man, it's entertainment. And yet displays the experience of enlightenment when one is enlightened and walking the streets. When you look at someone and see their story in a glance. It's not a judgment, there's none of that energy on it. It's their essence, their personality, their story. And watching the street Saturday night in SoHo/the Village is not unlike television if you're an enlightened confidant phantom.

new york evening

inspiration

"Have you ever thought about the mountain lion and the wolf, and even the smallest and apparently fragile little bird? They don't know where their next meal will come from, neither when and how...yet, they wake up in the morning, happy and confident that... they'll go get it. Why? because that's the nourishment they need to be alive."

Do you want to be tame or wild?

fire quote

Time is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
-- Jorge Luis Borges

hands to heaven

A lush oasis in the desert. Gardens filled with roses, orchards, flowers. Lush carpets of wine. Salads. The full moon. A top bunk.

Another wonderful weekend in the desert with colleagues I had lost touch with.

The silence of the desert. My leather moccasins sinking into the plush sea of grass.

finally a quiet evening

Life has seemed to explode again. In these times of activity I take a moment to pause and remember my summer by the beach. When the biggest issue was to decide what to do and the hardest motivation was to get myself down to the beach on my bicycle. In those days, I reminded myself to do as much as I would ever want to do in those days, so that I could remember back on those times fondly and gain the refreshment of the relaxation even in the memory. My awareness has paid off. I remember my afternoons in my apartment, the sunlight streaming through the blinds, the plants growing happily and the sweat on my arms from a recent bike ride. The tan on my face and the complete lack of work clothes in my closet. I remember those feelings, I remember that time. I remember the space of time and it's a breath of fresh air to rat race heather. It's not that I want to return to that lifestyle, I remember it fondly and use it as a gulp of water from a canteen. But the memory is a good reminder to a different lifestyle. I've gotten completely caught up in the rat race again and it's driving me crazy.

Which makes me enjoy all the more a lonely Friday night, on the couch with a book, my laptop and a dog licking his paw nearby. Quiet. No onslaught for the moment. At least until the alarm goes off tomorrow at 6 and it's time to pack for another weekend in the Mojave. This time, it's intense.

joshua tree photos uploaded

I've posted photos from my recent Joshua Tree camping trip. Check them out here.

It was a great 3 days in the desert. I earned a new nickname and if you camp with me, you'll find it out. We saw all kinds of wildlife (and heard them too) and I did plenty of rock pile climbing.

Since I just can't get enough of the desert, I'll be back out there this weekend. I need to invest in a 4x4, so if you know where I can get one cheap, let me know.

irimi - the act of entering

When I studied Aikido, I was always more comfortable with Tenkan. It was the clever turning away in response to an attack. Irimi gave me the willies. It was entering fully into the situation. Death or partial destruction always seemed in front of me. But I was always intrigued with irimi. It was my preferred movement, but I didn't feel I had the power to throw these huge guys who were my ukes. When I got over my vision of these huge guys I had a fleeting moment and would successfully catch the feeling of irimi and throw my partner. Not because I could overpower them, but because I had successfully felt the feeling.

Irimi is not only an entering, it is a jump, it is a warrior's stand, fully and completely, grasping at the ethereal knowledge, gaining strength, power, chi, ki. It's a jump into the unknown - it's a jump into presence - moment by moment - fully surround awareness.

It was this feeling that I loved. This entering into the moment with everything that I am - all the power, the knowledge, the raw, the flaw, just me, heather, in the moment. Alive.

I feel that way about many things in my life. Instead of turning away and rolling with the waves, blending and adjusting, I am entering. Fully who I am. Slicing the moment with my arm and entering - the moment holds in the air and is timeless, and in that moment, anything is possible.

returned

I sit here at my desk. My passport, my Chanel sunglasses, my cell phone charging. The faint smell of paint and still boxes everywhere. I've returned. There's nothing like a few days in the desert, no shower, the rare campground with running water, no journal even to record my thoughts. The silence of the desert. The sounds of quail, coyote, buzzing insects at noon. The wind bobbing the heads of the flowers. The rough surface of eroded rocks. Pressing and stemming up eroded mountains. The hiss of a rattlesnake in a small meadow filled with grasses. Swallows imitating the nearby airforce airplanes buzz runs as I sit in a slight indentation of the rock. Inhaling the wind at night as I look in awe at the soup of our universe. Pinpoints of light, the moon long set. I'm sucked into the night. The wind, the flowers, the plain. I take no light, no water, nothing but myself. I walk into the desert at night, alone with no supplies. I have everything I need. I climb the rocks. I listen to the wind, but her voice is elsewhere. The power of this place has gone. It is a wonderland of rocks. A delight of wildflowers, but the raw desert power, the stuff that makes one wild and mad is not here. The power that pushes one to experience beyond the known experience. Or else, that raw wild power is like a familiar caress on my cheek, as the wind blows my hair into my face. And I feel that caress whether I am in the desert late at night or on the Los Angeles freeway.

Blogher

I'm going! Maybe what's his name from Newsweek can answer his question: Where are all the women's blogging voices?

SRL Video posted

I took some really great footage of the LA SRL show last weekend. It was great to run into old friends from previous life (the 3d VRML SOMA SF life). Be aware, these are fat video files, but of excellent quality. I took these myself on my sony cybershot digital camera. Go to the SRL site to get the URLs and more info or check out links here:

• Sneaky Soldiers, Sparkshooter, Shockwave Cannon (9.9mb mpg)
• Shockwave Cannon, Sneaky Soldier (5mb mpg)
• Shockwave Cannon assaults audience (10.4mb mpg) - yes, it's me right in front of the cannon!
• Kimric smokes the place out (2.9mb mpg)
• Sneaky Soldiers, Hovercraft (3mb mpg)
• Trojan Horse, Hovercraft (18.8mb mpg)
• Flame Hurricane (2.7mb AVI) - this one from Paynie via Gigsville.

Give SRL money - they are doing cool stuff and should be supported. In this world, uniqueness counts.