Bowling Alley Hottie

My New Glasses

2007-05-20T21:32:00.000-04:00

For the last 3 years my eye sight has been getting worse, so on Friday I finally went into Lens Crafter and got an eye exam. As I expected, I was in need of glasses. I picked out frames before closing time and went in Saturday afternoon to pick them up.

I'm near-sighted, but it's amazing how much I haven't been seeing. It's really hard to explain, but I really didn't realize how much glasses could help.

I haven't quite gotten used to my reflection with glasses and I may eventually look into contacts, but I wanted to try glasses first. I think I look okay, but like I said it's going to take some getting used to.

I'm getting a car in about 2 months, so I thought before I took my Illinois driving test I should probably get my eyes checked out. I definately have mixed feelings about having a car. It's been about 6 years since I owned a car and I vow to never live in a city where I have to have a car to survive, but it will be nice to have a car for road trips to Ann Arbor or upstate New York (where Wade's mom lives and my dad plans to move).

Enjoy these pictures of me in my new glasses. I have 30 days to return the frames, so please let me know how I look

YouTube Debut

2007-04-11T21:46:00.001-04:00

I don't have much to say, so I'll just share Riley's debut video on YouTube:

Taken by Wade on our trip back to Portland from the Oregon Coast January 2007.

Adventures in Advertising

2007-03-24T15:25:00.000-04:00

Advertising is not brain surgery. Although, millions (or billions) of dollars may be lost by a wrong move, it's pretty unlikely that anyone dies. That being said, there is often a lot of stress flying about in a media agency.

There are a lot of perks, working in advertising, you get a lot of small free things (or tchotchke) like t-shirts, pens, note books, mostly covered in company logos. Then there are sponsored lunches, dinners, breakfasts, sporting events, theater, concerts and, of course cocktails.

But occationally, you get to do something truly special and original. For instance, on Thursday me and the team I work with were taken out for a night on the town, including a trip to the Puma Store to create a custom pair of Pumas (my design pictured to the right).

And then there is then there was massive amounts of alcohol consumptions, which is almost always part of an evening out with ad people. We had a really good time watching NCAA basketball, talking, smoking, doing shots, and we all paid the price for it the next day. But that's just the way it goes, just one of the perks.

On Friday evening, last minute, I got invited for my first ever mani/pedi (Easter egg purple pictured to the left). It was exactly what I needed after the hangover I indured all day and yet another perk to the stress-filled 13 hours days we occationally have to indure to get something done that doesn't really make any bit of difference in the world.

I'd say it's a pretty fair trade off, now that I have spa trips and lunches lined up for my birthday week...but ask me during one of those 70-hour work weeks.

Slainte and Guid Forder!

2007-03-17T23:52:00.000-04:00

I probably have some Irish blood in me, being the mutt that I am, but Saint Partick's Day has never really meant a great deal to me.

An excuse to drink Guinness, yes, of course. But I don't need many excuses for that. Guinness is usually my drink of choice an any Irish pub or everytime my father comes to town and we visit Christina's (a pub in my neighborhood which serves $2 draft Guinness pints with shamrocks poured into the head).

So, first, there is drinking. I stated 2 years ago, when this blog began, "...as much as I love holidays that focus on getting really drunk, this holiday has always been the 2-weeks-to-go-until-your-birthday Day." Drinking, for me, has never really needed the excuse of holiday, vacation or special occation. It does make me wonder how those of us who don't drink deal with these sorts of occations and weddings and other times when drinking is the normal and socially acceptable default behavior. I'm in awe of these people, like a rare speicies of bird lizard, not sure if I believe everything the Discovery Channel tells me.

I don't really feel like my birthday is on its way. I can hardly believe that it almost April. Time is getting really screwed up in my head and my mom just keeps telling me that it will get worse with age.

Last year, my birthday was pretty uneventful. I was thinking this year would be a great birthday. To tell you a little childhood secret, when I would play house with my friend across the street, I was always 26, so there are a lot of expectations riding on this birthday. I guess I just thought I would be someone by now.

Then I started thinking about how "cheers" in most languages means "to your health" or "good luck" and how that's a weird thing to say as you suck down another beer to make you forget your bad luck and worsening health.

But let me end this post by saying I hope you enjoyed a happy and safe Saint Patrick's Day and all the luck of the Irish is with us both as I drink to the end of my 25th year and surrender my childhood fantasy of being 26 forever.

So kiss me, even though I may not be Irish.

Cheers!

piecing it back together

2007-03-03T04:04:00.000-05:00

I'm sad to report that 2007 has had a bit of a rocky start and I'm not currently much of a fan.

I had a great New Year's staying up all night with my hubby, Wade, drinking, smoking, playing cards, laughing and talking.

Mid-January we had a nice , our first since moving to Chicago, and got to spend time with friends and family on the coast at Seaside and in the valley in Portland.

I got to see Troy & Amanda, Adam, my uncle Jack & his family, Wiggy Bill, and then we went to the coast with my father in-law, Jerry, his wife, Gretchen, her adult-children, Amanda and Chris, Amanda's husband, Rick, their daughter, Brittany and Chris' son, AJ. This was all in 4 days.

I rented my first car in Portland for the trip to the coast, which was exiciting and very simple. It was the first trip I took since being old enough to rent a car and one of those last birthday milestones, so I charished it.

And am I glad I took the special 4-wheel-drive offer they had at Dollar, because there was more snow in Portland when we landed than there was in Chicago when we took off. And if you've ever driven from Portland to Seaside during the winter, you know that the mountain pass can get pretty slick.

Since our brief trip, I have missed Portland even more, but I've also been so busy at work that it makes it hard to think of anything else. I've been working 12-hour days at least 3 days a week, plus 9-hour days the remaining 1-2 workdays. We just got some new team members and I think they're working out fine.

So far not so bad, so what is Eva bitching about?

Well, I guess it started on a Tuesday night about 5 weeks ago, when I barely caught my finger tip in a bathroom stall door and within 24 hours my nail was completely black and the throbbing pain had brought me close to tears. I don't know about you, but I had a natural birth and it takes a lot of pain to make me cry.

So, because work was so crazy, I doped myself up on ibuprofen and trucked along. By the time Saturday rolled along I couldn't imagine living another day with the pain and I thought that my finger was possibly getting infected, so I took a trip to the ER.

I've never been admitted to an ER before and I've only been in the hospital once (see natural child birth, above). I'm not a fan of needles and doctors or waiting for long periods of time. That being said, it went fairly smoothly. They did exactly what WebMD told me to do myself, but I didn't have the cojones and I got the reassurance of the x-ray too.

I haven't lost the nail, as of yet, but I am 99% sure that I will soon. Okay, on with the sob story. So about 4 weeks ago, I lost my bus/rail pass. I went and got it replaced in the middle of the day because they close at 4pm. Only it was much further away than I had thought. Then a couple of weeks after that, I was out drinking and lost my cell phone and DRIVER'S LICENSE and my bus/rail card again the next day.

I guess I should consider myself lucky because I've never lost my DL before. It is an absolute nightmare, especially if you don't live in the state that issued your previous DL or you birth certificate or your marriage certificate, etc.

I did finally manage to get a hold of my Birth Certificate, my Social Security card, my lease and my marriage certificate to get an Illinois ID Card. You see, I hadn't switched my DL over from Oregon, so had to get an ID card for now, until I can take the driving test.

While we were in Portland, my uncle offered me his car (which very close to the model I learned to drive on), so we are getting a car this summer, but Wade and I both need to get our license first. Oh, and I've NEVER taken a driving test before, so I am sort of nervous and I don't really know how it works.

The silver lining of all these lost object is that now I have finally joined the respectable 21st century people who have camera phones. I've been having a lot of fun taking pictures and uploading directly to my flickr.

So here's to hoping that the rest of 2007 sails a little more smoothly. Now that it is my birthday month, I'm sure things will start to look up...Here's to a year full of regular updates to this here blog.

Gay, Fine By Me

2006-06-03T03:00:00.000-04:00

Original entry drafted 6/26/05, edited slightly 6/3/06:

A few weeks ago, mid-sentence, during a instant messenger conversation, Ben told me that Charlie (his roommate, and our mutual friend) was wearing a T-shirt that read: "Gay, Fine By Me". I immediately said, "what does that mean? Charlie isn't a complete asshole?" and Ben confered, "I guess so." He really should have said, "I guess ... not?"

I am offended for my fellow human beings. Can we be so stupid that we have to come up with gay rights campaigns (for straight people) that praise people for giving basic equal rights to gays? Oh, but wait, the campaign doesn't go so far as being pro-gay marriage or pro-gay family...this organization only goes so far as to say that Gay is Okay...

Sound familiar? Fine by you? Who cares what you think? Gay people...real gay people, the couple dozen I know in real life and not from the movies, don't want to be FINE in straight people's eyes. They want to be free to live their lives. Who doesn't? like all of us, they just want to be unique and in the same vain like everyone else.

Here in Oregon, our anti-gay marriage proposal was called 36. YES was a vote for a proposal that was poorly worded and meant gays could not be married. And I was shocked to see so many "YES on PROPOSAL 36" signs in my neighborhood. The YES campaign went with the simple "ONE MAN, ONE WOMAN" slogan...at first, even I thought the proposal was about poligamy...The first thing that crossed my mind was, "is someone proposing that ONE MAN should be with THREE WOMEN?"

I was even more shocked, amazed and uplifted to see that the "NO on proposal 36" campaign was coming at it so level-headedly. The TV commercials showed straight couples and families, saying, "I don't know how I feel about gay marriage, but I know Proposal 36 is poorly writen."

What does gay marriage threaten? Family? The families that already exist with two same-sex parents, without equal rights to their child? No, family values only serve the families that are practically extinct in our culture, the nuclear one mother, one father, two-point-five child homes. That isn't our America. It isn't our place to say if it should be, but I know it isn't right. Step-mother, step-fathers, half-children and grand-step-cousins-once removed, that is today's family. Children shouldn't be punished for the world they inhabit. And I do not mean that children should be punished for having gay parents. But instead, I mean children shouldn't be punished for their human parents short-commings and the close-minded settings of their community.

What does gay marriage threaten? Straight-marriage? I have had this conversatation a dozen times with my favorite Catholic Democrat Bartender, Glenn. Glenn is 50+ years old, he's been Catholic all of his life, married only 20 years of his life and worked at the same company over 25 years of those 50-plus, under 3 or more different owner/managers. Glenn is very educated and very political. He loves to stress both of these features. Glenn, like myself, doesn't feel gay marriage threatens what him and his wife hold as holy vows. He doesn't think a man marrying a man takes anything away from him, as a man, marrying a woman. He is very level-headed, hard-working, likes to drink and enjoy himself, and knows bullshit when he sees it.

What does gay marriage threaten? God? "It's against The Bible", being the most common response I can get from those so opposed. My response never falters, "Who are you to judge? Let them bring it up with God." If we all believe in The Bible and Judgement Day, and it actually turns out to be truth, we will all have to face our maker on the day of our demise. We will all have to account for the sins we have concured along the way...being gay and "acting upon" that gayness is no difference. Who are we to judge? God, did not put us here for that purpose. The great scripture states..."judge not lest ye be judged", "no one but God has the right". Jesus himself says, “Judge not, that we cannot judge." (Matthew 7:1). Let us all just stop playing God for a minute (in the form of the Father, Son or Holy Ghost) and let's try to live our own lives in the way of The Savior. Let us try to lead our own lives down a path of salvation and bring as many as will join us along. Jesus didn't want it and not even angry, vengeful New-Testimate God wanted us to live bullying and dragging people by their ears down the path of salvation.

I won't believe in a God who doesn't love all of his creatures.

A Face Only A Mother Could Love

2006-05-21T01:06:00.000-04:00

Kids are cute. There is no question that newborns are hideous and unbearably vulnerable. We all come into this world with the same life-skills, in other words none. We leave this world at different levels of achievement.

Newborns are only beautiful to their parents and close relatives. For the first year of life, when puking, pissing, eating, sleeping and shiting are the primary functions of human life, it is a biological fact that you must look like the person your parents love the most: be that themselves or their partner (depending on the co-dependancy level involved) or in the instance of adoption, guilt plays also plays into the equation.

We have all heard the expression, "He's got a face only a mother could love." This means, that left to his own devices out in the middle of wilderness this butt-ugly child couldn't defend, protect or survive on his own. Humans are very fragile creatures, being mammals, we need to be born into the world before our heads get to big (physically, but also psychologically) and way, way before we actual developed enough brain-power to support of ourselves.

My son, and I am not just saying this, is beautiful. He is photogenic, charming, strong and beautiful. He has a face (and personality) that not only a mother, father, step-cousin, friend-of-a-friend's brother's mother or stranger could love. The problem lies in his speech.

My son, speaks a language "only a mother can understand". I don't mean to be sexist, so I will clarify. Riley speaks a sincere combination of "sign", "English" and "baby-talk" that anyone who spends more than 5-hours-a-week with him could understand in context. That being about 2.3 people, no one understands what the hell he is saying besides his mother, father and an occational other adult now-and-then.

I began writing this entry a few weeks ago and since then Riley's speech has developed considerably. I started to write this entry about the phrases Riley uses and how he has seemed to skip right from infancy to teenagehood.

"'quit bug me" and "i say what mama say" are excellent examples of phrases that make me want to lock my child in his room. His phrases have become more complex and his parroting less severe. But the biggest break-through happened this weekend with the word "yo-yo".

You may or may not remember the yo-yo as a childhood toy that caused you either humiliation or a great sense of achievement. "Yo-yo" is also one of the first words that Riley began saying about 2 years ago, right along with "mama" and "dada".

How I have tried to solve the puzzle of this word, and yet for two years, this word has left me mystified. The problem with "yo-yo" is that Riley uses this words in a multitude of contexts and the contexts surrounding the word are misleading and contradicting. For example, Riley laughs and says, "YO-YO" when he his excited and happy. He also yells, "YO-YO" when you are reprimanding him and he wants you to stop. For a while I thought I had "yo-yo" figured out, when he seemed to be expressing "yo-yo" in place of "I don't know" when probed for an answer.

All this time, I thought it wasn't possible that he knew what a "yo-yo" toy was. Yesterday, on our back porch, Riley and I were having a water fight and he delightfully began saying "yo-yo" over and over. I sat him on my lap and said, what is "yo-yo", like I have done dozens of times before, not expecting an answer, when Riley looked me in the eye in disbelief that I could not understand this concept. "Up, down and all round", Riley said giving me a visual with his hands.

I was slightly taken a back. I don't believe he is talking about the toy "yo-yo", but the energy level, instead. Yo-yo is everything, the universe, his safe word, his chi, his zen, his meditative emptiness, it is all incompassing, "up, down and all around".

iPod Generation

2006-04-29T22:20:00.000-04:00

Upon moving to a "real" city, like Chicago, I immediately realized how popular mp3 players are. Call me naive, but I honestly had no idea.

Of course I have a medium size mp3 collection and I thought people mostly listened on the computers (while working on their computers) or burned CDs to take with them to parties or in the car. Of course, I knew that iPods and other mp3 player existed. I just didn't know that 90% of city commuters had one (or more) mp3 playing device(s) and that 95% of those were iPods.

I had no idea Apple was still thriving in the electronics business. No idea.

I've been commuting from the outskirts of Chicago to my job in the loop for over six months. I've been killing two hours, five-days-a-week catching up on my reading, tearing through novels, works of non-fiction and short stories, surpassing my whole literary experience in that six month time frame.

I've noticed the millions of faces reading newspapers or more frequently free local lifestyle rags put out by the major newspapers. But the countless number of headphones and wires on a single El train on a weekday morning is overwhelming.

A few weeks ago, I received a free iPod Shuffle at work. I have to admit after six months of holding my head high and looking down my nose over the pages of written word at my fellow white ear-bud studded passengers, I loaded my shuffle only minutes after arriving home from work.

I just threw a random selection of my computers mp3 collection onto the shuffle and during the next day's commute spent most of the time skipping songs that I didn't really feel like listening to at 7:24AM or 6:37PM.

That night I took a mp3 CD of David Sedaris readings, that my father had burned for me and that I hadn't had a chance to listen to at home, and committed them to my iPods memory.

I am not an expert iPod user. My novice is most evident when I try to find a focal point in a crowded train, while listening. The problem with listening to David Sedaris instead of music, is that I frequently cannot contain laughter on a train void of human noises. The random bursts of laughter at the inopportune time of, say catching the eye of someone on a cell phone who looks as though they having their last conversation with a close and drying relative, generates quite unaffectionate looks in my direction.

Outward joy is not something tolerated, but instead loathed, in a big city (even a fairly friendly big city, like Chicago). People don't understand happiness in general, and especially not speifically related to the mindless stimuli of an iPod.

"What song could possibly be making that girl laugh so much?"

I am a nerd, but I consider the urge that I hardly fight to laugh at the writings of David Sedaris highly superior to the urge that I fight quite well to sing-along to every song worth listening too. I consider the "winable" fight with songs tiresome and unenjoyable, while on the other hand people noticing my laughter, possibly thinking me insane, can only protect me.

For, everyone knows that no one is going to strike up a conversation and try to take advantage of the crazy woman in the back of the train giggling while trying desperately not to look you directly in the eye.

It's Been A While...

2006-03-25T23:37:00.000-04:00

I started this blog a little over a year ago...It has been a while since I last created a post.

I started to think about all that has happened in one year. I'm overwhelmed. This time last year I had just moved into a huge house in Portland with Bill (& Wade & Riley, of course). I was getting ready to turn 24. I was without "my bowling alley", it had closed down leaving me on unemployment and working under-the-table for a local vendor, listing items on eBay. The bowling alley closing had left me more than laid-off, it had left me ungrounded and mildly depressed.

I had lost more than the bowling alley (as if that wasn't enough). I had lost Heather. Heather, the only true friend I had made in Portland. I had other friends but I consider her the only "true" friend because she didn't work with me at the bowling alley. Yes, she had been introduced to me through Adam, who did work at the bowling alley with me, but she didn't work there. She was a great outside view. She loved the bowling alley almost as much as I did or more in a certain way. She didn't have to spend anytime there, but she chose to.

I lost Heather. And my heart was broken into a million pieces. My heart hadn't been broken that way since High School and I honestly didn't think I was capable of that kind of loss at that point in my life. I survived, of course, as I've always done. I didn't understand the loss and along with my bowling alley being "gone", as I liked to say, I felt completely isolated.

I had lost Jason. I had only begun to really find Jason...and almost instantly I realized I had made so many mistakes with him. At the point of that epiffany, he was long gone.

I had lost my day-to-day contact with Troy, but Troy had lost a lot too. Troy had lost 12 years of his youth to that bowling alley that had taken my youth as well, just in a smaller portion. Troy still loves me and I love Troy endlessly. So he is not completely lost to me, but I wish things had turned out differently sometimes.

This past year was the first year I began to understand regret. The feeling is something that I have never quite grasped. The concept, yes, but never the feeling behind it. Joe loved that about me. When I was with him, in High School (and beyond), I knew I had made mistakes. Those mistakes never seemed to define me the way others (namely Joe) let them.

I became much better friends in the past year with an old family friend, Matt. He has been my knight-in-shining-armor numerous times. A knight is something that is hard for this longing princess to admit she desires. He has been a true diplomat, as he always was, at explaining to me all the things that are not easy, but instead necessary to hear. And doing so in the most loving and kind way. He is more kind then I will ever be.

Benjamin began dating Brenna. Which I am not fully ready to comment on, but has left me feeling somewhat alone and neglected. This feeling has been rising in me since the bowling alley closed it's doors, but Ben always seems to be the one to put the nail in the coffin. I know that Ben loves me. I know that his love is something as permenant as the love I feel for him. But it doesn't make me any less lonely.

I know there are so many people that I should become friends with. There are so many things at work and at home I should try to improve. I believe that my co-workers genuinely like me. Which is very nice. They don't expect me to kiss their ass, which is a good thing, because it isn't my strong suit. They are blown-away by my candidness with them and my tackfulness with our counter-parts.

Work has been going really well lately. It has made me willing to accept my position. Not as a resignation to my love of the bowling alley life I created in Portland, but as new belief that I can truely do my job well and contribute to my co-workers and employer.

This year has not been a complete bummer. Of all these disappointments and heart-breaks learnings abound. That which doesn't kill me...Stronger I am today. Strong than yesterday or one year ago, which seems like a lifetime.

Stronger than I ever thought I would be.

Amazement of Humanity

2006-03-04T03:33:00.000-04:00

I step outside to have a cigarette at 1:30 in the morning and instantly begin to shiver. After the 5.75 minutes it takes to smoke in cold weather I am hit with the amazement of modern humainty.

It hits me that we learn to adapt so quickly. I know it isn't this cold in Portland, or San Francisco, or other places peices of my heart are left behind, but yet, it seems somewhat commonplace. I don't have the luxury of a finer climate at this point at 1:30AM, therefore that place ceases to exist. Maybe it true, 'what's bred in the bone will not out in the flesh' or maybe I am completely misinterpreting literature, as usual.

Somehow we are supposed to just live our lives traveling from one to another many stanges of conciousness. That might sound new-age to you, so let me put it another way.

15 minutes ago, I was finishing the last couple of pages of a chapter of John Irving's A Prayer For Owen Meany. In the not-so-distant background was the sound of Teletubies and their bizarre adventures. Then I stepped outside and was reminded that I am not from here, this is not my home and yet I live here and I live in much the same way I did before I lived here.

Okay, maybe I didn't make my point, let me stick it to you this way: we have an amazing ability, gift, curse to be able to block things out that happen. They may effect us, but their effect is not visible to the human eye and therefore not significant in our culture.

I know, I'm still not getting there...I probably never will because a big piece of my conciousness is about not saying too much. I don't know where it comes from: nature, nuture, a combination of neither or both, but it is here, within me.

One at a time we just get through, the things that need getting through. But we don't win awards or earn degrees for that. While we are out "in the world" winning degrees and earning awards, we lose site of all the other shit that "gets in the way". It's unexplained and yet, expected.

It is one thing to be vague, another to be cleaver and an entirely different beast to be mysterious. And so I sit in mystery, in awe of humanity.

Rock N Roll

2006-02-26T21:17:00.000-04:00

I was raised to believe that doing the dishes involved rock n roll music. But not just any rock n roll, the music in it original concert volume deafening state.

This life-long moral so deeply ingrained, thrills my family to no end.

Riley is napping, Wade is trying to watch golf, its Sunday afternoon and there is a growing pile of dishes overflowing from the kitchen sink.

So here they come...The Donnas, The Waitresses, Cher, R.E.M., Rick Springfield, Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan, Madonna, Rod Stewart, Steve Miller, Sheryl Crow, Roy Orbinson, Tom Petty, Ani Difranco, Red Hot Chili Peppers, The Shins, The Ramones, The Libertines, John Cougar Mellencamp, Jon Bon Jovi, Grateful Dead, Iron and Wine, Eric Clapton, and so many more...

I know not all of these qualify as "Rock n Roll", but the term is so relative and all the above "artists" are my only tried and true friends. Their music quickly devolves the grease on my dishes and the ache of loneliness in my heart.

Gale Island

2006-02-19T19:08:00.000-04:00

I am so excited to be planning Riley & Wade's first trip to Gale Island.

For those of you who don't know, Gale Island is a small island on Isle Royale National Park. My mother's grandmother bought the property in icy Lake Superior before it was turned into a National Park in 1931. At the time when the government bought the property to turn into a National Park, The Park Service offered my grandmother two options; sell back the land to the government at the going rate of one dollar an acre or sign a life-lease. My grandmother was smart enough to take thelesae option and put it in the names of her two teenage sons; my grandfather, John (14 at the time, currently decessed) and my great-uncle, Phil (16 at the time, now in his 80s).

Gale Island is one of the biggest reasons that I ended up growning up in Ann Arbor. My parents both grew up in the South and meet at Emory University in Atlanta, Georgia.

Ann Arbor drew my hippy parents in with lax pot laws, large liberal/hippy population and a free place to stay. But of course the appeal of being close to my mother's childhood cabin, was up there on the priority list.

When I was growing up, we went about every other year. It isn't an easy trip to make. The trip starts with a 600 mile drive from Ann Arbor to Houghton (you can make the drive in one day, but typically our family, at least in the chilren years, took two days to complete this trip). Then a 6 hour boat ride from Houghton to Rock Harbor Dock on The Ranger III. Then at least a couple of hours getting all your luggage and supplies from the boat over to Tobin Harbor and then into the family boat and over to Gale Island.

Then your vacation truly begins. Void of electricity, cell phones, running water, it takes a certain kind of person to appriciate this vacation. Like any good vacation and any time we are forced to spend much time with family, a lot of boose is involved.

Our cabin was designed by architects in my Great-grandmothers town of St. Louis and constructed by her teenage boys: John and Phil. Thinking about how they got the lumber and materials onto that island, still brings my heart wonder. Needless to say my Great-grandmother, Mother Gale, had money.

We are taking our trip in early August and I have to begin planning now. We are going with my father, his live-in girlfriend and her lover and daughter. Riley will be the first 7th generation Gale to stay on Gale Island.

There was a bit of family politics about the 6th generation (me) reserving time on Gale Island without a 5th generation Gale (my mom). They practically ignored that my dad was going with me. There is no way I would request to go to Gale Island with just Wade and Riley. There is too much that can go wrong and too few ways to get help.

Danger is a strong appeal. The ice cold water, the rocky beaches, the beautiful evergreens, moose, and boats are such key parts of my childhood. I can't wait to share them with Riley and Wade. I am so excited. I can't stop talking about it. I am putting in for my vacation time this week, just to make sure.

"Some day it will all be gone, along with this song..." - except from "Gale Island" by Eva del "Groovie", 1994.

But until then, it was one of the motivating factors drawing me back to the midwest. I gave up northwest pot and mosturized skin, so damn straight I'm going to my island this summer.

Snow of The Future

2006-02-11T13:07:00.001-04:00

Wednesday it snowed here in Chicago.

It's always been amazing to me how many different types of snow there are. When I was a kid, growing up in the wintery mid-west, we would say there were two kinds of snow, packing and powder...and only one kind was of any interest to us kids for snowballs and snowmen and snow-angels.

Wedenesday's snow was exactly like Dippin' Dots. You know, the ice cream of the future. I thought about all the snow needed was sugar and cream and artificial flavoring to be the most delicious treat on my way home from work.

I guess I have a hankering and I need to get me some Dippin' Dots.

How The Bowling Hottie Came To Be

2006-01-31T22:52:00.000-04:00

Back in my formative years, working in a run-down bowling alley in the smalltown city of Portland, Oregon, there was a personal ad published in one of the alternative papers (The Portland Mercury).

It was published in the "I Saw You" section. You know the one for chance incounters. The place where people write ads to people that caught their attention, but they were too nervous to give their number to. In other words, it was published in the best part of the paper and the ad read something like this:

BOWLING ALLEY HOTTIE
You're the hot one who works at that bowling alley across the street from that strip club. You gave me used shoes, retrieved my ball from the ball return and made funny jokes.

If I could find the archieve I would quote directly, but you get the idea.

Jason, my bitter love, found the ad and showed it to me and the others we worked with. He was certain The Bowling Alley Hottie mentioned was me, as was everyone else surveyed.

I was flattered, I was over-joyed. I tried to remember who this stranger who took such notice could be...an answer escaped me, but it certainly seemed plausable. I seemed more worth of the title than most anyone else who worked behind the bowl desk, handing out "used" shoes.

I was married, but I was also curious. So I went home and emailed the address linked to the ad. I wrote:

I am responding to the Bowling Alley Hottie ad. I work at Grand Central. Is that the bowling alley you were refering to?

My response came and informed me that yes, it was Grand Central. But it appeared that the name was somewhat feminine...hard to tell sometimes from email names. I asked if the bowl desk attendant was a man or woman. And she explained that it was a man with dark scruffy hair.

It took me a minute but I knew exactly who she was talking about: Dave. Dave is in his mid-30s. He is a very nice guy who plays in a band. He is a very nice guy, who has a bizarre temper that he frequently unleases on pesky, yet undeserving customers (an attribute he was later fired for).

I forward her message on to Dave.

I went to work the next day and explained to Jason and all that the famed Bowling Alley Hottie was Dave. Sneers were exchanged and I declared that I was the rightful owner of the title. No one argued and I have worn it proudly, drunkenly, nievely and honorably ever since.

I miss my bowling alley. I miss Jason. I miss Troy. I miss Portland. But the Bowling Alley Hottie in me lives on forever and always. It is something that formed me, something I can never forget and something that presents itself to me in the form of demons that I struggle everyday. The struggle is not in remembering, but in calculating and justifying that those years were not squandered away. Convincing myself that I was born, right there and everything I need to know, I learned by being The Bowling Alley Hottie.

Love Monkey

2006-01-21T12:06:00.000-04:00

Wendesday night at a work-related dinner I told Sara, "I am getting old. I really am starting to like CBS primetime." She reassured me that wasn't the case. "No, CBS is getting better: younger." That being said, I can write the following review.

CBS premiered it's new show, Love Monkey, on Tuesday January 17th. The initial attraction for me was Tom Cavanagh. Of course Tom first broken into our hearts with the comedy/drama ED about a New York city lawyer who returns to his quirky small, midwest hometown of Stuckeyville after being fired and finding out his wife is sleeping with a mailman. He runs into Carol Vessey, the most popular girl from High School who he crushed on all four years. Under the temporary insanity caused by losing his wife and job, Ed ends up kissing Carol in the town's bowling alley and buying it the next day. Instantly he becomes the bowling alley lawyer, begins his 4 year love-struggle with Carol in a show that was Northern Exposure, plus bowling pins and Michael Ian Black.

That was Ed. Love Monkey is not Ed. First it doesn't have bowling alley appeal. Second, although the show starts in a similar way (Tom Cavanagh's character being fired), Tom's character "Tom" is no "Ed". Tom Cavanagh shows us he has testicles as he portrays a mans man in the dog eat dog musc world. Unlike the love-sick, fairy-tale romance of Ed, Love Monkey a cross between High Fidelity and Jerry Maguire. I say High Fidelity because the show has a TV-audience milder, but still very Nick Hornby feel. Also the lead character "Tom" is deeply involved both on a professional and personal level with music. Where High Fidelity (the movie) has John Cusack talking to the camera for the narrative device, Love Monkey uses the over-played voice over narration. I say Jerry Maguire for the plot of agent (music, instead of sports) being fired from a huge company to be independent and get back to the reason he loves the industry in the first place.

Love Monkey has heart centered in reality. Tom drinks with his friends, attempts to get women in the sack, finds challenge in his female best-friend (who of course will eventually be a love interest) and smack-talks with his three male buddies (one of whom is a slightly overweight Jason Priestley).

We will have to wait and see but Love Monkey could prove to be one of my favorites. Which of course, if it is anything like Ed, would mean that it would get moved around from night to night, then interupted for baskball games and eventually taken off the air.

The title of the show is the second biggest reason I tunned in for the pilot premiere and I am glad I did. I give it a 4 out of 5. Good job CBS. Let's see if you can keep it up.

Flickr

2006-01-11T00:18:00.000-04:00

I hate Yahoo...yet they seem to buy everything I love.

I just uploaded a bunch of stuff from the holidays on flickr...some of my favorite tags include annarbor, drinking, riley and chicago.

Check 'em out: http://www.flickr.com/photos/bowlinghottie/

Love to all.

Holiday Card Picture

2005-12-18T19:49:00.000-04:00

Now that you have probably recieved your holiday card from us, (if you were on my list) I will publish the web-version for all to enjoy.

Happy Holidays from Chi-Town:

If you didn't recieve a card from us in the mail, and would like to in the future, please email me your address!

Holiday Wish List

2005-12-18T19:47:00.000-04:00

What I really need for Christmas presents are Target gift cards. I figure for about $500 at Target, I can completely furnish and my my apartment very livable. I can maybe even get some toys and books for Riley too.

What do you want for the Holidays?

Comcastic

2005-12-05T22:40:00.000-04:00

Well, after much struggle with the broadband-giant, Comcast, I am back on the internet at home. Which, for you, means more updates. It will be my New City Resolution to update at least once a week. I will also be back to updating the wadeandeva.com gallery (and working on the homepage updates) and flickr.

From Farm To Table

2005-11-03T19:21:00.000-04:00

With the news of the product nutrition labeling McDonald's will be incorporating onto their packaging, I thought I might offer that you take a look at this website, From Farm To Table that speaks to McDonald's food quality.

Please comment or email comments

While you are in the land of The Golden Arches, fans of the McRib should stay tunned for this.

Apartment Search 2005 - Crazy Landlord Rules

2005-10-31T01:20:00.000-04:00

Over the weekend I was talking on the telephone with my good friend Ben. I told him about this awesome apartment I saw that was 3-bedrooms (instead of the 2-bedroom I was looking for and ended up with) and cost $55 less per month than the place I we will be moving into in a couple of weeks. Also it was on Shakespeare. Which you cannot say without holding your nose up and using a bad British accent. Which is tons of fun. But crazy landladies are no fun.

I promised Ben, if I still had the list and could find it in my ever-growing pile of papers, I would list these rules. Maybe I am spoiled, but read through this list and if you don't think this landlord is crazy please leave you feedback. I request that if you read through and think these are not rediculous rules, please read through and do not ignore my comments below...because some of them appear to be a sane request but upon further examination are what tenancy rules might look like on Venus or Jupiter.

Your residence at XXXX¹ W. Shakespeare, Chicago, IL,² is conditional to your³ abiding by the following rules:

Tenants are the ONLY ones to have keys to the front door and apartment doors. No one else should have one except for the person whose name appears on the lease.⁴

Tenants should not keep anything that is flammable in the building.⁵

The apartment and entrance to it should be kept in clean and neat conditions, just like you received it.

Each tenant is responsible for cleaning their front steps and back steps section.

ABSOLUTELY NO FOOD IS TO BE THROWN IN THE TOILET. IT SHOULD BE THROWN IN THE GARBAGE. IF CLOGGING OCCURS BECAUSE OF A FAILURE TO FOLLOW THE MENTIONED, YOU WILL BE LIABLE FOR THE DAMAGE.⁶

The garbage should be thrown into the garbage can and the lids should be fully closed.

All gates MUST be closed at all times.⁷

Your monthly rent ONLY includes the apartment -- it does NOT include any other areas inside the building or outside the building. Keep ALL of your personal belongings in your apartments. Do not leave anything in the porch, balcony, yard, garage, or outside your door. There is no storage space in the building.

The porch is to be clean at all times -- NO PERSONAL BELONINGS⁸ ON IT.

There is NO grilling, barbequing or any other activity allowed in the backyard.⁹

No loitering in front of building or in the back of building.¹⁰

Tenants are responsible for the conduct of their guests and will be deemed liable for any damages to the building caused by them.¹¹

No visitors on premises after 10:00pm.¹²

Absolutely NO parties allowed in the building. We want to respect the privacy and tranquility of everyone in the building.¹³

If at any point, the tenant sees anything suspicious or unusual and relates the building contact the owners IMMEDIATELY.¹⁴

Landlord is NOT responsible for any personal condlicts between tenants. These conflicts should be reported to the Police at 911.

The landlord will only be notified when there is something going on in the building.

IF THERE ARE ANY QUESTIONS, PLEASE FEEL FREE TO ASK. IF YOU AGREE WITH THE RULES ABOVE, PLEASE SIGN AND DATE THE BOTTOM.

1.Actual Address hidden to protect the insane. Back to Rules

2.Improper use of puncuation. Back to Rules

3.Improper grammar. Could easily be corrected by adding "your ability to abide". Back to Rules

4.Just in case you were unclear on the term "tenant", it means "person whose name appears on the lease". Back to Rules

5.This was my favorite and absolutely the most insane thing on this list. Now, possibly I am being too hard on this woman, but if someone where not allowed to have anything flammable in the building that would restrict furniture, clothing and human beings from entering the building. Or, maybe, the word "keeping" implies that those items can be on the premises, but must be removed at some unspecified point during tenancy. Granted, Chicagans (yes, this is the term that people who live in Chicago refer to themselves by...) have a right to be a little fire-aware, but they still have to be realist human beings. Back to Rules

6.This rule makes my head spin. I guess it all boils down to how specific you want to get with the word "food". If you don't understand what I am getting at...Ask your parents. Organic waste is organic waste is organic waste. Garbage is another thing. Also, what if contraband "food" is placed gently in the toilet, rather than 'thrown'? Now I am just being a picky, judgmental snob, I know. Back to Rules

7.AM I SUPPOSED TO HOP THE FENCE? I guess all times does not include while someone is actually WALKING THROUGH! Back to Rules

8.Spelling error. We all make them, but most of us spell check at least the business documents. Back to Rules

9.Does 'any activity' include walking through the back exit? Why even have a backyard, if no activity is allowed, might as well build another apartment building. Back to Rules

10.If the reception on your cell phone is bad, you need to walk around the corner. I think this means no smoking or talking to other tenants in the building. Pastime of evil mortals. Back to Rules

11.Pretty standard lease language. Back to Rules

12.The ultimate deal breaker. Not because I am a like to bring my boyfriends over, but because I am not willing to make my family and friends get an expensive hotel when the visit me in Chicago, especially in a place with an extra bedroom. Back to Rules

13.What about the motherfucking sanity? Back to Rules

14.Holy shit, was this just translated from Japanese into Spanish, then to English and back to Japanese? Back to Rules

So Few Good Midwest Songs

2005-10-30T20:38:00.000-04:00

"Have I got everything? Am I ready to go?
Is it going to be wild, is it gonna be the best time?
Or am I just saying so? Am I ready to go?
What do I hear when I say I hear the call of the road?

I think it started with driving, more speed, more deals, more
sky, more wheels
More things to leave behind, now it's all in a day for the
modern mind
And I am traveling again
Calling this a ghost town, and where is the heartland?
And I'm afraid, oh, was there any good reason, that I had to go
When all I know is I can never come back."

Invitation to Chicago

2005-10-30T17:43:00.000-04:00

As you can see by the below pictures I have a very nice place to put you up in, so come on over and help me move in! Anyone with a truck or even a car, who has a couple of days to come out and help me move in and get some new stuff for my place will be rewarded with oodles of good times. My lease says my move-in date is November 15th, but since that is a Tuesday, I am going to try and get the keys for that weekend before. You should come and help me move the stuff I brought with me from Portland, plus the stuff my mom is bring from Ann Arbor next weekend, plus maybe a trip to Target or IKEA. I will provide the booze for the celebration once the labor is over.

Wade and Riley will be flying in on the evening of Nov. 18th and I would like to have all my stuff moved in by then. Also, if someone would like to help get them from the airport to our new place with all the rest of the Portland stuff, that would be super cool.

Let me know guys, I really need some help.

Home Sweet Home

2005-10-29T18:25:00.000-04:00

Chicago has opened her arms to me and granted me a place in her lovely embrace. In other words, I've found a place to live. I will move in on November 15th and Wade and Riley will join me in Chicago on November 18th. We have a 2-bedroom apartment in a medium-sized apartment complex on the NW side of Chicago (yes, Chicago proper, we are not burb-dwelling people). If you would like the address, please send me an email.

There is a bowling alley about a mile from the new place...for those of you who may have been worried about that.

View pictures below of a similar unit:

Another Day in the Windy City

2005-10-07T20:02:00.000-04:00

Most of you want to know how my first week in Chicago was. I have very mixed feelings and the answer to that question changes on a minute-to-minute basis.

I flew into Chicago on Saturday evening and started work Monday morning. Work is going pretty well. All the terms that I haven't heard for the four years that I have been out of the industry are slowly coming back to me. You may be able to relate to certain parts of that. You hear a term and you know you have heard it before and should know what it means but you don't at the moment you hear it. Then a couple hours or days later you start to remember. That is how this feels.

So, I am staying at Sara & Steve Hall's house. Sara was my boss at my last two jobs in Ann Arbor and is by boss at my current job in Chicago. We are trying to keep the fact that I am "sleeping with my boss" hush-hush (a.k.a. on the DL).

I am sleeping in Steve's office which is the second bedroom of their condo and where he works for an Ann Arbor firm during the weekdays. So this morning, right after my alarm goes off, Steve comes and knocks on the door. He tells me he has to be to work in 5 minutes (which, to remind you, is the room I am sleeping and storing all my stuff in). But in my AM, fuzzy head I thought he was telling me that I had to be to work in 5 minutes.

I thought maybe Sara had already left for work and called up to tell me to get my ass to work. So I rushed and didn't shower and after about 3 of those 5 minutes, I began to understand what Steve had said. So I went to work an hour early and used that hour to look for apartment listings online at my desk.

Then I had a somewhat uneventful day with a lot of meetings and work to be done, which is uneventful only because that is how every day has been thus far and I don't see the workload letting up anytime soon. Upon arriving back at the Condo building, which requires a pass to get into the building from the lobby, I found out that being on the guest list does not get you a copy of the keys (as Sara, Steve and I thought) but actually just gets you into the building out of the lobby and then you either need keys or the person you are visiting needs to be home.

Sara and Steve are in Michigan. And it is probably safe to say at this point, they are having a surprise Birthday Party for Steve. Sara is not answering her phone or checking her e-mail. I convinced the maintenance to let me into the building and assumed Steve would leave his keys on his desk, where he normally leaves them during the last week so that I can come and go, while they have been home. Not the case. He probably assumed that my name was on the guest list and they would give me a set of keys at the desk.

So now I am stuck in an apartment by myself. I have a dozen or so apartments to look at this weekend and my friend Matt is coming into town on the train from Lansing to help with the apartment search and hang out. It isn't like I had planned on putting him up in an apartment that wasn't mine, so that is good...He has a place to stay. But I need to get keys by tomorrow morning to meet him at the train station and look at these apartments.

Normally, your boss is the last person you want to hear from on the weekend. But, I am waiting on a call from Sara...So, if you see her, let her know!

Chicagoland Here I Come (Recap)

2005-10-07T19:58:00.000-04:00

If you missed this email because I do not have a current email address for you, please email me your new address...If you did receive this email, sorry for the duplication. I wanted this to be documented here and I should have posted it last week, when I sent the message.

Hello Friends and Family,

For those of you who don't know and to update those of you who may have heard only a few details, we are moving to Chicago. Things have been so bad for the economy here in Portland it has been very hard for me and Wade to find work. I was offered a job in Chicago for an advertising agency (the same sort of work I did in Detroit before moving to Portland) by my former boss.

The salary and benefits are much more than anything I could expect to find in Portland, but we will miss Portland's overpowering beauty. Wade and I are both experiencing feelings of sadness to leave Oregon, where we met, fell in love, partied, bowled, had Riley, got married, lived in some great apartments and houses (and some not so great ones too) and built our lives together. Yet, we are both excited as well. A fresh start in a new city seems to be just what we need.

I am flying to Chicago Saturday morning (yes, THIS SATURDAY, Oct. 1st) and begin work on October 3rd. I will stay with friends who live close to the new job. Wade and Riley will stay behind and take care of packing or selling/donating the rest of our belongings, while I search for an apartment for us all to live in. If the apartment search goes well, Wade and Riley will fly out around November 1st and we will all move into our new home.

We will be traveling very light, so if you had a package ready for Riley's birthday, please wait until the beginning of November and we will give you our new address. If you want to send Riley something on his actual birthday, please make it small, light and easy to move (maybe gift cards for Amazon, Target, Old Navy or Toys 'R' Us). Wade, being a single parent for a month, will need a lot of help. Anything you can do, from a phone call to stopping by to watch Riley, will be greatly appreciated.

As always your love and support are greatly appreciated. We sadly say goodbye for now to our friends and family in Portland and are thankful to be close to another group of friends and family in and around Chicago. We are truly blessed with so much.

My phone number is 503-515-2008
Wade's phone number is 503-740-1101
Our address in Portland is:
1236 NE 112th Avenue
Portland, OR 97220
This is my new personal email address. I will no longer be with Comcast.

If you need more contact information, give one of us a call.

Love,
Eva

Lots of Great New Pictures

2005-08-11T20:58:00.000-04:00

Check out wadeandeva.com/gallery for tons of fun summer pictures!!! We've been having a blast staying cool this hot, hot summer.

Low-wage Workers

2005-07-13T22:03:00.000-04:00

There's this fucking kid...He works at 7-Eleven. You'd have to meet him to know the true depth of his incompetence. For all of you snobby skeptics, purely working at 7-Eleven does not inherently mean he is a 4-time loser.

You've probably met someone similar to him, in your fast-food, bar-hopping, convience-store-frequenting. If you have not been lucky enough to have a counter-job, serving countless idiots, most likely everyone you encounter in this position reminds you of this asshole.

Granted, you do not have to be a genious to work at a convience store (especially a chain one), but sometimes those geniouses need a change from their boring careers or fall on hard times or simply don't know they are a genious and take jobs that dont make them millionares and hardly pay the bills.

So, that being said, this fucking kid...
He is only a kid...
That's the only thing he's got going for him.
He was fired.

We were so happy.

He didn't knowwhat ginerale was.
He didn't know customer service.

I told him, I would have him fired.
I HAD HIM FIRED.

Now, he is rehired,
Now, he looks at me like I had him fired.

I never made a complaint about him. To anyone other than my husband.

I DIDN'T HAVE HIM FIRED?

This kid is a joke between my husband and I. He is a joke in our house. And the joke is the type that requires a story, So here it goes...

This guy doesn't know what ginerale is. He doesn't know how to ring my cigarette purchase in correctly..."What's gingerale? Is that a type of beer?"

I'm sorry for his parents, not teaching him what gingerale is....I am also sorry for him not knowing how to talk to customers.

We both hate him.

He is just a kid...

He thinks I had him fired. I did, with will-power, I guess I did.

Gay, Fine By Me

2005-06-27T00:03:00.000-04:00

Original entry drafted 6/25/05, edited slightly 6/3/06:

A few weeks ago, mid-sentence, during a instant messenger conversation, Ben told me that Charlie (his roommate, and our mutual friend) was wearing a T-shirt that read: "Gay, Fine By Me". I immediately said, "what does that mean? Charlie isn't a complete asshole?" and Ben confered, "I guess so." He really should have said, "I guess ... not?"

I am offended for my fellow human beings. Can we be so stupid that we have to come up with gay rights campaigns (for straight people) that praise people for giving basic equal rights to gays? Oh, but wait, the campaign doesn't go so far as being pro-gay marriage or pro-gay family...this organization only goes so far as to say that Gay is Okay...

Sound familiar? Fine by you? Who cares what you think? Gay people...real gay people, the couple dozen I know in real life and not from the movies, don't want to be FINE in straight people's eyes. They want to be free to live their lives. Who doesn't? like all of us, they just want to be unique and in the same vain like everyone else.

Here in Oregon, our anti-gay marriage proposal was called 36. YES was a vote for a proposal that was poorly worded and meant gays could not be married. And I was shocked to see so many "YES on PROPOSAL 36" signs in my neighborhood. The YES campaign went with the simple "ONE MAN, ONE WOMAN" slogan...at first, even I thought the proposal was about poligamy...The first thing that crossed my mind was, "is someone proposing that ONE MAN should be with THREE WOMEN?"

I was even more shocked, amazed and uplifted to see that the "NO on proposal 36" campaign was coming at it so level-headedly. The TV commercials showed straight couples and families, saying, "I don't know how I feel about gay marriage, but I know Proposal 36 is poorly writen."

What does gay marriage threaten? Family? The families that already exist with two same-sex parents, without equal rights to their child? No, family values only serve the families that are practically extinct in our culture, the nuclear one mother, one father, two-point-five child homes. That isn't our America. It isn't our place to say if it should be, but I know it isn't right. Step-mother, step-fathers, half-children and grand-step-cousins-once removed, that is today's family. Children shouldn't be punished for the world they inhabit. And I do not mean that children should be punished for having gay parents. But instead, I mean children shouldn't be punished for their human parents short-commings and the close-minded settings of their community.

What does gay marriage threaten? Straight-marriage? I have had this conversatation a dozen times with my favorite Catholic Democrat Bartender, Glenn. Glenn is 50+ years old, he's been Catholic all of his life, married only 20 years of his life and worked at the same company over 25 years of those 50-plus, under 3 or more different owner/managers. Glenn is very educated and very political. He loves to stress both of these features. Glenn, like myself, doesn't feel gay marriage threatens what him and his wife hold as holy vows. He doesn't think a man marrying a man takes anything away from him, as a man, marrying a woman. He is very level-headed, hard-working, likes to drink and enjoy himself, and knows bullshit when he sees it.

What does gay marriage threaten? God? "It's against The Bible", being the most common response I can get from those so opposed. My response never falters, "Who are you to judge? Let them bring it up with God." If we all believe in The Bible and Judgement Day, and it actually turns out to be truth, we will all have to face our maker on the day of our demise. We will all have to account for the sins we have concured along the way...being gay and "acting upon" that gayness is no difference. Who are we to judge? God, did not put us here for that purpose. The great scripture states..."judge not lest ye be judged", "no one but God has the right". Jesus himself says, “Judge not, that we cannot judge." (Matthew 7:1). Let us all just stop playing God for a minute (in the form of the Father, Son or Holy Ghost) and let's try to live our own lives in the way of The Savior. Let us try to lead our own lives down a path of salvation and bring as many as will join us along. Jesus didn't want it and not even angry, vengeful New-Testimate God wanted us to live bullying and dragging people by their ears down the path of salvation.

I won't believe in a God who doesn't love all of his creatures.

Computer Error Messages

2005-06-16T22:15:00.000-04:00

I would love to have a computer that taked shit to me. The error messages of Windows and even more so on a Mac are complete useless anyway, so they might as well be funny.

While working on my Greyhound Memoirs, I concluded that the ideal way to get into the same mind set of being a three day Greyhound journey would be to drink to the point of being slightly toasted. Sometimes this plan failed in one of two ways. Either I was not drunk enough or too drunk (more usually the later). Being drunk as a lot in common with the bus riding experience, but being very drunk is a little too happy a place to relate. Riding a Greyhound is more like being hungover than being drunk, but that is not a feeling I ever strive to achieve.

My saying became "Not Enough Booze in The System to Complete Download". Now why can't my computer come up with things like that to tell me when it doesn't want to cooperate? If it is going to be a moody bitch, the least it can do is have a sense of humor about it. That is how this moody bitch tries to be anyway.

Greyhound Memoirs #21

2005-06-14T00:45:00.000-04:00

FINAL DESTINATION
5/19/01 3:10pm PST

My bus is entering Portland. It looks sort of lie Chicago; lots of run down little houses next to the Interstate. Holy shit, I just saw an ad for health insurance for pets. Fucking hippy town.

Big buildings coming up around the bend. Wow, a city. A real city, but so green (not bathed in concrete gray like so many). MAX train, not-so-distant cousin of San Francisco’s BART. “Amazon.com Wouldn’t Fit Here”, the side of a huge building reads as we cross the Willamette River into downtown Portland.

I hope I fit here...

Greyhound Memoirs #20

2005-06-14T00:40:00.000-04:00

GREEN OREGON
5/19/01 2:16pm PST

About an hour to go and a hundred pages left in Slaughterhouse Five.

Oregon is so green, sunny, rocky and windy. Everything is going to be okay. After I shower and go to the dentist and chiropractor, that is. My teeth ache like I was socked in the face. I wonder what’s wrong. I’ve been drinking a lot of soda, but that isn’t unusual for me. It’s the front teeth especially. Maybe it has something to do with my tongue piercing. Maybe something about sleeping under a blanket of feel of sexual assault making me clinch and grind away at my teeth combined with the rattling of the uneven highway and jerky stopping.

It will take me two years to see a dentist. And after a series of consecutive visits, I will get fillings in almost all of my teeth and have 2 of my 4 wisdom teeth removed.

Huge green pines, mountains, and trickling water. The trees and water are things that have always been close to home. This flatlander will have to get used to the mountains. That shouldn’t prove to be very difficult.

Greyhound Memoirs #19

2005-06-14T00:33:00.000-04:00

ROTTEN TEETH
5/19/01 10:30am PST

I’m starving and my teeth are rotting right out of my head. I can feel them throbbing with decay. I just brushed them for the first time on the trip and they feel slightly better. Portland is less than 300 miles away. Still five hours to go.

Greyhound Memoirs #18

2005-06-14T00:31:00.000-04:00

STANDOFF
5/19/01 6:08am MST

Everyone’s got a hussle. Everyone thinks they’ve got to be a player. I almost lost my cool last night when an Esse named David tried to get “fresh” with me. He was talking to me, telling me he wanted to sit with me, when he had a seat across the aisle. I told him I had been traveling for two days and I was tired and I just wanted to get some sleep. I went to use the bathroom and he was sitting in my seat when I got back. I kept telling him I was tired and I wanted him to move. He was saying I could lie down in his lap and finally I got out of my seat and stood in the aisle glaring at him. Finally he moved back to his seat.

A couple of hours later, he apologized. Said he was stoned out of his mind and that I should get to know him. The guy sitting next to him, who was on the bus with me from Chicago apologized too and said he should have done something for me and to let him know if Esse bothers me anymore or I need anything.

This isn’t happening to anyone else. I’m not that cute. Do I look that much like prey? I wasn’t firm enough I am too nice, but I handled myself on both buses. I got my seats. Something I will learn as a cocktail waitress in a mismanaged bowling alley is to handle most any situation.

Greyhound Memoirs #17

2005-06-13T23:38:00.000-04:00

VEGETARIAN
5/18/01 2:40pm MST

Quite a rowdy, lippy group on this bus. To give them the benefit of the doubt, maybe they aren’t normally like this, but due to lack of sleep, shower and normal food bus travel multiplies their natural loopiness.

The driver just asked for the “off-color” remarks to stop because women and children are on board.

We stopped in Rawling, Wyoming for a cigarette and stretch near nothing. A bag lady from the bus made a remark about some of us smelling bad and “Tiny”, who is a truck driver and of course not a small man, said, “if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black.” Everyone curses like a sailor. It’s absolutely wonderful. One woman asked another passenger to get her a soda across the street and he said, “Shit no, you’ve got legs.”

Last night, at a brief stop, somewhere in Iowa or Nebraska (pretty sure it was Iowa) the bus filled with the smell of slaughtered chickens. It was absolutely horrible. I was so nauseous; I thought I would lose it all over Jose.

Over four years later, I remember this experience vividly. We stopped for a 10-minute rest in the wee hours of the morning. I stayed on the bus for about 3 minutes, and then decided I might as well have a cigarette, since I couldn’t sleep. As I got off the bus, the smell was over-powering. The familiar smell was hard to place at first and once I did I never thought I would be able to eat chicken again. I lit my cigarette and smoked as much as I could until I thought I would toss my cookies. I got back on the bus to get away from the smell only to find the odor had completely permeated throughout the bus and remained for hours only slowing losing its offensive power mile after mile. Somehow, I was able to choke down some chicken only a few short weeks later.

My ears have been popping a little in the mountains. I hope my stomach stays settled. Driving through the Smokey’s always made me loose it when I was younger. All I have eaten today is beef jerky and soda pop.

Greyhound Memoirs #16

2005-06-07T03:02:00.000-04:00

A LITTLE ANI FOR THE ROAD
5/18/01 12:40pm MST

I remember my first time
riding on a Greyhound bus
A man put his hands on me,
soon as night fell.
I remember when I was leaving
how excited I was.
I remember when I arrived
I didn’t feel so well.

I wish I wasn’t so nice. Because there are a lot of situations where nice gets you deeper in trouble. I am nice because I was raised that way, but I am also tough enough to get out of any bad situation I’ve ever been in.

Girl, next time he wants to know
what your problem is.
Girl, next time he wants to know
where the anger comes from.
Just tell him this time,
the problem’s his.
Tell him the anger just comes.

I wish my anger came at the right time and I knew how to express it. I wish being cute wasn’t such a damn burden.

I have my own set of seats, away from Jose now.

Greyhound Memoirs #15

2005-06-07T03:01:00.000-04:00

SEXUAL MISCONDUCT
5/18/01 11:02am MST

Everyone has heard a hundred stories about someone who “did it” on a bus or airplane. This is not one of those. I can't say people weren't having sex on any of the buses I rode across the country, but I never noticed any hanky panky and I surely didn’t partake in any myself.

Turns out Jose was dishonorably discharged from the Navy for seven counts of sexual misconduct, all on the same day.

We’re finally out of Nebraska.

There is a black woman on the bus who has her seven kids with her, she’s pregnant and smokes. I’m trying not to be a snob, I’m not trying to judge, that’s not working very well. My life could be much, much worse.

I called Kate and my dad from the last stop. They seem like they did when I left. I have to keep remembering that was only yesterday. Feels like weeks to me.

Greyhound Memoirs #14

2005-06-07T03:00:00.000-04:00

MISSING ORDINARY
5/18/01 7:32am MST

Not sleeping makes me not hungry. I really like breakfast food, just not this early. The food was really expensive at our breakfast stop and I’m saving up for my chiropractic bill. Only one or two people on the bus actually ordered anything.

I want a shower. I want a bed. I want everyone to shut up. All night and continuing today these two guys have been ragging on Jose. While I was asleep, I guess he was talking smack about how I want to marry him and I was coming on to him.

Hopefully I can get more space in Wyoming. We’re still in Nebraska. For some reason I thought yesterday would be the worst, now I’m not so sure.

I can’t wait to hear familiar voices and eventually see a familiar face.

Greyhound Memoirs #13

2005-06-07T02:59:00.000-04:00

NO WAY TO SLEEP
5/18/01 12:44am MST

I always thought Detroit was the most likely place to be panhandled. I never thought about bus stations. If you are taking a bus, doesn’t that wave a big flag saying you don’t have extra money to give away?

Another surprise, that wouldn’t happen on an airplane, is that they will actually de-board a bus in the middle of the night for “servicing”. So, here I am, in Omaha, my third choice of a place to make my new home to San Francisco and Portland.

Pray everyday of your life, to whatever god or gods or entity you wish, that you are never as poor and uninformed as I was when I chose this method of transportation.

Lowest fucking common denominator. That’s all I have left to say. Now I’m one of ‘em. At this moment, I am seriously considering spending all the cash I have, when I arrive in Portland, on the best massage money can buy.

Greyhound Memoirs #12

2005-06-07T02:58:00.000-04:00

PEOPLE ON THE BUS GO ‘ROUND AND ‘ROUND
5/17/01 8:20pm CST

The sun is setting and we’re chasing it west down the highway. Miles and miles of farmland, green and brown, rolled out along the country. So huge, is this country – huge and vast in a wonderful and lonely way.

This bus contains an interesting selection of people typically underrepresented in my life. I have this weird knack for knowing peoples race or ethnicity. It makes me feel less snobby, less white, to say, “Oh, Diem, that’s Vietnamese right?” People are shocked that I didn’t ask if they were Chinese or Japanese. Sometimes it’s as simple as a name, such as Jose (who a little black boy just asked if he was Russian). Sometimes it’s an accent, a word they use, sometimes skin color or physical features. It just makes me feel good somehow. We are supposed to be color blind, but since that is impossible, being educated and knowing Chinese from Korean, seems more refreshing to me.

Goodnight farmland, I’m sure you’ll be waiting outside my window when the sun returns.

Greyhound Memoirs #11

2005-06-07T02:57:00.000-04:00

FIRST NIGHT OF NO SLEEP
5/17/01 6:55pm CST

Is Iowa still central time? I guess it probably is. I just ate the best Wendy’s spicy chicken sandwich I’ve ever had in my life and I’ve had quite a few.

I’m not looking forward to sleeping sitting up right next to Jose (who sings bad pop songs to himself) and on a bus with constantly crying babies.

Ben’s coming to see me Memorial Day weekend. “Never.” That’s all I could tell him when I called him from Nebraska, never again. I haven’t even made it a third of the way. But I still have a few hundred dollars, so that’s good.

It’s nice to look down at the people in their cars. Not in a grand way, just a different perspective, it’s nice to have that once in a while. Just a few more hours of light.

Greyhound Memoirs #10

2005-06-07T02:37:00.000-04:00

BOOK REVIEW
5/17/01 5:10pm CST

It’s very clever, this book. I think it’s definitely shaping my writing (as all books do). I like the second story much better than the first. Basically 1) the first is written in journal and inner voice style and that in itself is pretty hard to write without being cheesy, 2) the first section was about drug addiction, which is something I have a fascination with but no real connection. It sort of seemed like neither did Leah and the second section is about sex and relationships and we all know that’s something I love to talk (and write) about.

The whole book is about Hollywood life, I guess, I mean I’m not done yet. Maybe I need to live in L.A. Irving claims everyone he knows who has lived in L.A. turns out funnier and wittier than they were before living there.

Jose isn’t a great example. He was showing me articles about video game systems. Made me feel like I was in third grade again. But really, how have things changed? Boys and their toys, as I always say. I bailed out of the clubhouse gang a few years ago, now I can’t stand their world. I’m not gonna be a woman much longer, no worries.

Greyhound Memoirs #9

2005-06-07T02:35:00.000-04:00

INTRO TO JOSE
5/17/01 3:45pm CST

I’m sitting next to a young man who was recently discharged from the Navy. His name is Jose and he enjoys talking, even though he doesn’t speak English very well and is therefore very hard to understand. I sort of wish he would just speak Spanish, I would have a better chance of understanding him and maybe I could drown him out and sleep. He’d be more comfortable and I wouldn’t feel so bad for the things I misunderstand. He finally stopped talking and is sleeping now.

I’m reading this book. It’s really brilliant and moronical all at the same moment. Princess Leah (Carrie Fisher) is the author, you may have seen the movie, Postcards From The Edge. I always sort of wanted to see the movie, but it looked too much like Thelma and Louise for me. A few months after being in Portland I rented and watched the movie and was not all that impressed, but Shirley MacLaine and Meryl Streep are wonderful.

The second section is quite wonderful. The first section was good, but the dialog lacked something. I’m not a writer yet, so I can’t tell what. I think maybe…

Jose woke up distracting me and asked if I was writing to me boyfriend. Boys, so subtle with their intentions. I told him I wasn’t he said, “you do have a boyfriend though?” I nodded, smiling. He said, “I could tell.” How sweet is that? I guess I am easily swept off my feet.

There are a lot of people on this bus. A few small children, screaming, of course. That’s what the adults would do too, if that was socially acceptable. I didn’t really notice the screaming baby, behind me until Jose woke up, but when I think about it, the screaming has been going on the whole time.

Boys notice how annoying babies are more than girls, I think. Now that I am a mom, I notice screaming babies more because I am trained to react to it, but I’m not bothered in the slightest by it.

We’re in farmland now. Ah, middle America -- Iowa, maybe Nebraska. We stop in Nebraska for dinner in a few hours. Stomach inventory: a can of coke, a bagel and I’ve had about four cigarettes.

This bus has the rainbow seats again, that makes me smile. I wonder if I’m going to make it in one piece. No, I guess I know that I will and crack within the next few weeks. To be perfectly honest, it took much longer than a few weeks for me to crack. Ben came to visit the first or second week I was in Portland and I read him this entire journal and we laughed and drank and went out to eat and had a good old time. The whole transition was still a vacation at that point. I didn’t start feeling homesick for about a month of dead-end job searching, eating TOP ramen and living in the apartment building we would later refer to as The Asylum.

I called Irving in Chicago. I think I might call Ben in Nebraska it only seems fitting with the neb/ben joke. But I should definitely eat first. I don’t change buses until Salt Lake City.

Oh! I forgot to mention – this bus' final destination is San Francisco. How sad is that? A couple of years ago, I planned to move to San Francisco with Ben and now I am moving to Portland “with” Irving.

I’ll finish the second section of this book and continue those broken thoughts later.

Greyhound Memoirs #8

2005-06-07T02:33:00.000-04:00

WINDY CITY BLUES
5/17/01 2:40pm CST

Back on the bus. I packed too much stuff. I got rid of ninety percent of my shit and it’s still too much to carry and watch by myself. I’m never riding a bus again and I’ll think twice before traveling alone.

This whole bus system is crazy and unorganized. I hope I’m on the right bus. It is very hard to tell. I hope we leave Chicago’s lovely bus station soon. I was trying to perfect my big city, cold, blank look. No such luck, I’m obviously a naïve Midwesterner with too much stuff and no strength or coordination. Perfect target for pick-pockets and crooks. Everyone’s got their scam. A man asked me twice in the same hour if he could draw my face. “Such a pretty face, you don’t like it, you don’t buy it.” At least I know better than that, I’m not that gullible.

Greyhound Memoirs #7

2005-06-07T02:28:00.000-04:00

LAST NIGHT OF SLEEP
5/17/01 1:40pm EST

Last night, around 4am, I said “Mom, fuck it. We might as well just stay up now. Let’s have breakfast.” She burst out into a sleepless cackle.

This morning waiting for the first bus, I was going though the contents of each bag in my mind. Worries. Why am I so worried? I said, “Mom, let’s just go home.” She was shocked for a moment at my frown and she smiled saying, “You are going home.”

Greyhound Memoirs #6

2005-06-07T02:25:00.000-04:00

GARY, INDIANA
5/17/01 1:15pm EST

“Gary, Indiana, Gary, Indiana, Gary, Indiana…”

Stretched hard and had a smoke in Gary, because hell what goes better with the lovely smell of steel factories and oil refineries than a nicotine fix?

The Australian woman, who’s been the only one with me this whole time (since Ann Arbor at 7am, yes this is still the same day I started my trip), said she thought someone famous was born in the land of Blast Furnaces of Northern Indiana, but I couldn’t understand who she was talking about through her thick accent. Thinking back, she was probably talking about Michael Jackson, but I was too exhausted to think of that then.

I used the bathroom onboard, for the first time, right before Gary. There is no sink. I hope tomorrow there’s a sink, because I am going to smell offensive. Turns out, I never even checked the bathrooms on any other bus. I figured if I smelled bad enough, maybe I wouldn’t get my own two seats to sleep in.

Ah, that Gary funk. Rivaled only by Detroit, that smell on a hot day after a light rain. I miss the D already.

Next stop: Chicago.

Greyhound Memoirs #5

2005-06-06T23:12:00.000-04:00

CLASS STRUGGLE
5/17/01 12:10pm EST

I didn't mean to sound like a snob about homeboy. He was very kind to me, got off the bus and told me to have a nice trip. It's just, maybe I don't, what's missing? I just don't relate to people well. I don't know how to interact on a superficial level. I will soon learn, in my first ever job in the beloved and well-appreciated service industry. Customer service has nothing on service industry. It may seem obvious to you that they are completely different things, but for me, the way I am, I needed to learn it through experience. I will also learn, among the lessons that I can never relate to you, that I know nothing of relating on a superficial level. I did learn very quickly how to deal with drunks, how to defuse a possibly volatile situation and how to step back and let someone take care of situation. I continue in my Greyhound journal to say that I loath small talk, which I will learn to crave and respect. And I always thought somehow that made me a deeper person and I couldn’t do it because it wasn’t worth doing. And that’s the thing. I’m all talk.

My mother grew up in the south and in the 1950s. Needless to say, she is very chatty. Go to the grocery store, she talks to the bag boy. Go to the movies, she chatters to the ticket-taker. Go to a restaurant, she’ll talk the waitresses ear off. All these people are paid to be nice and so I always assume they are thinking, “Lady, shut up.” But now that I’m a mom, I think that was what I was thinking and those people probably enjoyed someone being nice to them while they were at work.

My personality confuses people. Well, it confuses me too. Most people see either one side of me or the other and think “Oh, I’ve got her pegged”. When I wrote this journal entry, I thought I was the only one person who was multi-dimensional.

It always made me feel like a fake. I was one way with my friends and another with my boyfriends and another with my parents and another with my teachers.

Insert rant about how this all ties into Irving and Jamie. Any rant will do and be better than the one originally writen in my journal.

Greyhound Memoirs #4

2005-05-25T20:39:00.000-04:00

MEET HOMEBOY
5/17/01 11:00am EST

Switched buses in K-zoo (Kalamazoo, Michigan for you out-of-staters). I guess I don't have to move my own checked bags. I just hope they made it on with me. I saw one being moved on, so that is good. The other stops have more than a 5-minute layover, so I may have to watch and0 move my bags there. But that's okay because I have time there and time is important when I am worried. The more I write the less any of this makes sense because I am so low on sleep I think I could sleep through someone screaming in my ear. I'm more worried than I've ever been. I usually don't worry easily and I guess this is no exception because this wont be easy. Oh, simple naive Eva she thinks this will be the hardest thing she will ever do and there for worth wasting page after page of this nonsensical steamy pile of hooey about worry. But wait, more hooey continues...

I'm just all wound-up with worry and nervousness and hunger and lack of sleep. I'm sick to my stomach. Even the butterflies are hungry at this point. But I keep waiting for the tears. Have I really become that detached from my feelings that I can be strong on the exterior?

I didn't cry when I said good-bye to anyone (to everyone). I felt really good, really happy until last night. When I was frantically running around trying to tie-up last minute strings, it started to sink in. A lot of those strings we left untied and I will trip on them later, for sure, but I haven't shed a tear for any of them.

Saying good-bye to Jamie was really good. We sat in his car and he continued to flirt with me. He knew nothing sexual was going to happen and yet he was sweet and caring and funny and concerned. He started by asking me all the risk-assessing parental questions he was so good at. And then he turned light and funny, saying I had to promise to make out with him the next time I saw him (if I wasn't married, which we both would be) and continuing to tell me how much fun he had making out with me in the past. He threw my judgment of character out the window of his Pontiac. All this time I had him pegged for an asshole and I would reflect on so many times spent with him and realize he was nothing but someone honest and caring and emotional and fun. They say hindsight's 20-20, does that make foresight legally blind. What do we have in this world, if not our blind faith that things will be this way or that? Maybe I will never know how to think things out as well as sheltered yuppie Jamie. And maybe I will consider thanking God that lack of sight, everyday.

The last bus had rainbows on all the seats, so happy. This bus seems more modern, less roomy -- 80s, instead of 70s.

Homeboy who called me "sleepyhead" on the last bus is now looking over my shoulder and breathing down my neck. He asked if I was writing in a diary. What do you think? Is this a diary? I should have told him, "No, I am writing a letter to the president of Zaire about Greyhound travel". I told him I was just sort of writing, keeping track, and killing time. I'm writing my life story. My life and this trip have that story, shock value, adventure thing I thrive on, written all over it.

I love to talk about myself. I hate writing classes because there's all this talk about the reader and I should make a correction at this point. I used to hate writing classes because I didn't care about the reader. All I cared about was myself. I read my website and I know I sound like a pretension fuck, but it's hard no to. Writing things down make you feel like you have to be someone else. Writing makes words like "mom" turn into "mother". Uhms, and uhs and ers in conversation, completely disappear in writing. My goal is to write with the air of the common, but in the style of a pro. I won't learn what I need to know in school, but I will go and I'll take the required courses. Then I'll just write and it won't be awful, like this.

Greyhound Memoirs #3

2005-05-23T21:11:00.000-04:00

SMOKER ON BOARD
5/17/01 10:25am

Just woke up from my nap for breakfast, which consists of a Cherry Coke from Arby's. Sleeping on a bus seat is like resting in a four-star hotel that you can't afford and have no intention of paying for. I am feeling really poor. This is just conditioning because as I live my low-wage, scraping-by life in Portland it will feel like I am very wealthy and rewarded with ample things people with money will never know. I feel like trash on this bus, but for some reason I thought I would feel powerful being within 10 feet of all my belongings and caring my net worth in cash. I tell myself that maybe I will feel better after Chicago, big-city trash to co-mingle with instead of these ten midwestern farm-town folk.

Had time for a cigarette, with so-called-breakfast. I spent the 7 minutes thinking about what my mom said about how I should be upfront with Jack and Sandy about my nicotine addiction. She thinks that would be "adult" and they'd respect that. I think I'd rather skip the lecture and be a kid in their eyes. I guess they're going to know. Non-smokers can detect a smoker from a distance further than bees can smell fear. I tell myself that I am ashamed of my habit, I have no excuse and if I was truly "adult" I wouldn't smoke. I tell myself I will quit after college, expecting that it will take me another 10 years to get an associate degree in anything. Four years after this bus trip Jack and Sandy still don't know I smoke (at least I've never told them and they haven't said anything). My father in-law and his wife and her two children and their husbands don't know I smoke, as far as I know. It's easier to hide habits you aren't ready to change, than admit things and apologize for the stuff you don't regret.

Greyhound Memoirs #2

2005-05-19T22:24:00.000-04:00

BIRTHPLACE OF THE REPUBLICAN PARTY
5/17/01 9:00am EST

As I glance up from the exciting book I just started, I see we are pulling off the highway. Exit 139. Why does that seem so familiar? Oh, we are stopping in Jackson "Birthplace of The Republican Party". I can't figure out if this sign was put up for bragging rights or warning purposes. Possibly both. I thought I would never have to come back here.

Jackson is where I came to file my unemployment. Oddly enough I've never spent a dry day in Jackson. I hope bus rides, unemployment claims and gray skies are not foreshadowing in this story of my life. But of course, they are. Because God is a literary man and enjoys a good lesson at his children's expense.

What kind of tattoo parlor opens at 9AM? Oh, the kind that is also a motel. Only in Jackson, Michigan. The bus driver makes an announcement over the muffled and scratchy P.A. "This is Jackson. This is Jackson." And I think, 'Hell it must be'. That which doesn't kill me...that which doesn't kill me...that which doesn't kill me...

Greyhound Memoirs #1

2005-05-14T22:24:00.000-04:00

As promised here is the first entry from my Greyhound journal. It has been edited to include reflections and inserted explainations. I couldn't wait until May 19th, there are a lot of entries to put up. I may eventually have available the actual word-for-word entries, but for now, this is how I want it...

YOU DON'T SAY
5/17/01 8:05am EST

The bus hasn't left the station and my mind races as I leave the town I grew up in, headed west, in the early morning.

Mom and I spent the night chatting about boys, playing "You Don't Say*", trying to rest. I have exactly two hours of sleep to help me through, what I thought then, would be the hardest of a three-day journey. Or so I might have thought at the time.

I will find everything I packed within 3 seconds of wanting it, because 4 duffels is not much space to pack your life away. I forgot my face wash, along with probably a million other things. But they have face wash in Portland and I'm sure I'll find plenty of things.

I developed this attitude about travel when I was young, probably 7 or 8, when we went out on one of many family camping trips. I remember my father, perfectly anal and "like a boy scout" perfectly prepared, asking 3,000 questions. "Did we pack the toothbrushes?" "Did we pack the tent?" Us kids never dare respond, our mother always saying, "Yes, dear". We all answer our own questions. After he'd asked those three thousand some-odd questions, he’d always say, "You know what, we're behind schedule. If we forgot something, we'll buy it along the way."

This phrase has never left me. "If we forgot something, we'll buy it along the way." I once didn't have time to pack due to a hectic work/commute/class schedule for my first trip to San Francisco and bought underwear at a Target in Oak Ridge, instead of doing laundry. In that occasion and since, this sentence has come in handy when traveling.

My momma always said, "Everything’s gonna to be okay." My mom said, "You wanted an adventure and that's what you'll get."

“When you're run down after the first twenty hours and still have forty more to go, just think -- that's how long I was in labor with you.”, she said. And I guess the moral (although I know it wasn't exactly the moral she wanted me to get) is good things are worth waiting for or as I told myself pre-shower, blurry-eyed in the mirror this morning, "nothing worth doing is easy." Is that the way the proverb goes? Am I INSANE? Is it: "the right thing to do isn't always easy"? or "something a little less throw-myself-into-the-fires-of-hell-and-see-what-kind-of-cinder-I-become ? Anyway, I was a little more self-righteous then, but no-less impulsive.

I wish she hadn't told me, as I waited for my bus, her plans of buying me a plane ticket. but as Jamie would interject, "Everything happens for a reason" and of course, he is right, unoriginal, but right.

Mom slipped me some cash and packed me a bagel. Oh, don't you worry, I'll be just fine, Momma.

The bus pulls away. Mom waves and blows a kiss. She probably saw that in a train station scene in an old country western and found it endearing and romantic. But nothing really seems that way this morning as I look out at my arbor of green wet leaves for the last time as my home.

Portland will be exactly like this, wet, gray sky, green, charming. Why am I moving again? "Change is good for the soul." Oh right, of course, Ben, thanks I forgot.

Ben had been living in San Francisco for almost a year (and hadn't made any real friends) when he told me "change is good...". When I arrived in Portland, the weather was nothing like that of Michigan's when I left. The comparison didn't strike me then, because those three days felt like an eternity and I was more concerned with getting a shower than what the outdoor conditions might be. The weather was sunny, in the 70s and blue skies with light fluffy white clouds . This beautiful weather would help me fall in love with Portland that entire first summer.

*"You Don't Say" is a game show that was popular in my mother's era. The way we have always played (not sure these are the T.V. rules), since I was a small child, two player game. player one layer chooses a famous person and then gives a hint about their name (i.e. Audrey Hepburn, hint: when you put your hand too close to a stove you get...?), second player gives a guess to the hint until they get what the first player is looking for (i.e. "scalding", "boiling", "hot", "BURN!"). As this happens the first player can give hints to help the second player get to the concept they are looking for (i.e. "not scalding, what does the scalding liquid do to your skin") Once the desired answer is given the first player says, "right" and continues on with the second hint (i.e. hint 2: a sexually transmitted disease). The second player guesses at the second, third, fourth (if needed) hint, until they arrive at all the words that sound like the famous persons name. Then the second player (or "guesser") strings these weird clues together to create a name (i.e. Burn, Hepatitis, Awe, Dry) and throws them around in different orientations until they guess the famous person in question (i.e. Burn, Awe, Hepatitis, Dry. Awe, Burn, Hepatitis, Dry. Dry, Awe, Burn, Hepatitis, Hepatitis, Burn, Awe, Dry. Oh Hepburn...Audrey Hepburn!!!). Like this example, the hints often take a lot of reworking and are as far from the name as possible with out appearing to be a "cheater". It really is a fun game that will pass a lot of time. As the years have passed, my mother and I have created rules to bridge the generation gap (i.e. you can only use famous people you think or know that I would recognize.). My mother and I must have played 1,000,000 games of "You Don't Say" in our short time on Earth. It is something that always brings us back to square one, just saying those words, "Let's play a game of You Don't Say." Try it with your friends, parents or kids. It really never should have been taken off the air.

Greyhound Memoirs

2005-05-08T02:53:00.000-04:00

In honor of my 4th anniversary in Portland (coming up in less than 2 weeks), I pulled out my Greyhound journal. The original idea was to transcribe the journal on this very blog. But after reading it and talking about it, I thought I should make a website for all the wonderful Greyhound stories. Then as I started to compose my journal into digital form it began to metamorphosize into something bigger.

I have 5 pages completed of my autobiography. I know that I cannot release it until I am at least 35 and I have no intention to. But the story begins with my Greyhound Memoirs and continues on into my life in Portland and beyond. The Greyhound Memoirs section (one of three) will be blogged with revisions and commentary on May 19th, the day I set foot in Portland four years ago. I haven't figured out how to make it readable (as far as mass amounts of text go) but I will come up with something.

Your project: think of good names for my Greyhound story site. greyhoundmemoirs.com is the best I can come up with so far.

Also, I am expecting critical reviews on my memoirs...so get your thinking caps on and your constructively out of its box and get ready to interact with the only true interactive media.

Read the entries:

Greyhound Memoirs #21

Books I Must Read Before I Die

2005-04-30T20:59:00.000-04:00

I have started a personal book list of Books I Must Read Before I Die and if you have any title selections for me, I would be very interested. My current read is Me Talk Pretty One Day by the brilliantly witty David Sedaris.

I have seen a couple of good movies I would like to suggest. I have long awaited the arrival to DVD (I hardly actually make it to a theater) of A Love Song For Bobby Long and it was well worth the wait. One of the most flattering things a friend once said to me is that I remind him of hot babe, Scarlett Johansson. Ever since then I paying close attention to her career. Also, I have to say I very much enjoyed Finding Neverland. Of course, Johnny Depp is a hotty and Kate Winslet has come a long way from her Titanic days. I want to watch Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind over and over and over and over. Of course, not such a new one, but Garden State is still on my top 5 recent movies.

When I first moved to Portland, I was so bored and lonely that I started making "TOP 100" lists. My favorite 100 movies of all time, my favorite 100 books of all time (I honestly don't think I have read 100 books, because I am a recovering literary degenerate) and so on. I have seen (and liked) so many movies that I easily got to 100 and beyond. I am a little pickier now and you might be seeing some of those pretentious lists popping up on this very blog. Don't worry, I will start with a smaller number than 100.

Send me your favorite 10 books (or authors) and I will get to reading (as part of my recovery of course). One day at a time...

Mix Tape Stories

2005-04-29T01:16:00.000-04:00

My friend Kate, she has a website, which I think is a truely unique and interesting idea. Anyone can go and add a song title and a story or poem about what that song means to them or where they were we they first heard it or whatever. I have to say that I helped her come up with (if it wasn't completely my idea) the name vikingmeat.org and I couldn't be happier with Mix Tape Stories being hosted there.

When I went it looked like it was completely wacked out, but I will big her and see if she can't find some time to make it work again. So, try back soon. But here is my newest entry:

Caring is Creepy
by The Shins

I lost a boy...a friend -- who I never got a chance to become friends with because we worked together too long. And for a strange reason this song makes me think of him...

I know that what has happened between us "is way beyond [his] remote concern of being condescending". There's no reason for me to think of him and I'll try to just "Hold [my] glass up, hold it in. Never betray the way [I]'ve always known it is."

He sees the world as noise. As an inconvience for him. He couldn't understand
"All these squawking birds won't quit.

There's reason to forgiving their job to do...
"Building nothing, laying bricks."

Just maybe...
"One day [he]'ll be wondering how
[he] got so old just wondering how
[he] never got cold wearing nothing in the snow."

"I think [you'll] go home and mull this over
Before [you] cram it down [your] throat.
At long last it's crashed, its colossal mass
Has broken up into bits [your] heart."

I think I just might wonder why caring got so creepy and brought the stalker out in me.

"It's a luscious mix of words and tricks
That let us bet when you know we should fold
On rocks I dreamt of where we'd stepped
And the whole mess of roads we're now on."

At the end of that mess of roads, I'll find the answer. Has it been long enough to try again? And why do I want to? If caring is creepy, not caring is just plain terrifying.

Parenthood is Strange

2005-04-27T00:32:00.000-04:00

Parenthood is strange and it involves a lot of change, but so do so many things in life. I know that sounds corny, but I wont retract it. I've gone through a lot of changes lately and I'm not ready to talk about them directly...but they have made me want to write more. That which does not kill me...makes me want to be a better person.

Untitled (for now)
by Eva G. del Vecchio-Porter
April 26th, 2005

My dad always said,
"I loved you from the moment I laid eyes on you"

When I was young
it made me feel special
when I was older
and he witnesses the birth
of the woman he loved's baby
it made me wonder
So I asked,
"Did you love Aven, the minute he was born?"

He took a moment to recover.
"It didn't feel the same,
but I knew I would love him."
I wonder if he was lying.
I wonder if he was over thinking
what I wanted him to say.

Now, as a mother,
I wonder if I'll be able to lie
to my children
if I will want so much
to protect them that every word
will be geared at making them happy.

I didn't love my first born child,
my son,
the moment I met him.
He will learn through experience
I am selfish
I was happy when he was born
I was happy I had done it
I was happy he was healthy
and beautiful
But I didn't love him
Until I got to know him.

And everyday I love him
a little more
because I know who he is
a little more.

"Better Safe Than Sorry"

2005-04-25T23:23:00.000-04:00

My blog (and all blogs, but particularly this one because it is mine) seems like the perfect place to explain something about myself.

I am a big fan of the Internet, always have been. But I don't think I will shock anyone by saying there are some aspects of the community I could do without. This is not a funny peice. There are many things on the web that are completely useless, harmless and can occationally give those die-hard web-surfers a chuckle now and then.

Bear with me while I digress a bit more. Email forwards are 99% annoying. Very rarely are they useful, but it's nice sometimes to know that your friends are thinking about you. Maybe they didn't have the time to write you an originally authored email, but the forward they send will do. And isn't it better than spam and pop-ups?

With that in mind, today I recieved an email from a friend. Well, actually one of my mother's close friends, but I consider her a friend. This email was titled: "a must read". I opened the email and the first line read: "Abduction Precautions for Women". I should have instantly closed the email and deleted it (I did actually close the email, but read it later). This is my least favorite type of email. Yes, I hate it even more than the religious forwards and the joke lists and the chain letters and stupid animated gif picture mails, combined.

These emails are even more evil than your local nightly news for one reason: I completely disagree with the theory "IT IS ALWAYS BETTER TO BE SAFE THAN SORRY. (And better paranoid than dead.)". Personally, I would rather have no life, than a life lived in overwelming fear.

I know the world is not a safe place, but I try to live like maybe it could be. I'm not saying a woman (or man) walking home at night, alone, should choose to walk down a dark alley instead of a well-lit main street. Dogs (and assailants) can smell fear and I don't like to show any. You can hide some fear, but you can't hide as much fear as media and this kind of propaganda would like for us to have.

My friends email forward continued and gave all kinds of tactics to avoid being attacked and abducted. Statistically backed ideas and true-life what-not-to-dos can't compete with the advise I will give you right now. Don't be affraid. Don't be affraid and you wont appear weak, you wont appear vonerable. Walk down the street at night the same way you would walk through the park on a warm sunny day with your boyfriend (or girlfriend). That attitude would scare away the half-hearted attacker and the whole-hearted attacked wouldn't have been scared by much.

Horrible, aweful things happen to men and women everyday in every nation and culture. I hope nothing unthinkable ever happens to me or you or someone you love. And I hope it hasn't already. The same media that is mostly responsable for young boys seeing women as objects is now trying to warn us not to leave our houses. It's all a bunch of hooey.

I hope I don't die by the hand of anyone else. If I do, at least you'll all know that I lived my life without looking over my shoulder.

If you would like to read these Abduction Precautions for Women, here is a copy. Who am I to say anything, they just might save your life.

...Quarter of a Century...

2005-04-18T23:36:00.000-04:00

Ben jenkins is my best friend. He has been for about 10 years. Today is his birthday. He is a quarter of a century old. He is in New York, with his "boyfriend". I don't know if Teejay is still his boyfriend, but obviously they are still very close and see each other on special occations. I feel silly, like in High School when Ben wouldn't return my calls and he wasn't online or checking his e-mail and I thought he was dead. But it turns out he is just in New York, having a helluvatime.

The way he was talking about growing old a couple of weeks ago, I thought he was head-under-the-covers sobbing about being old. That isn't really Ben's style, but he can disappear. He is better at disappearing than anyone I know, I wish I could disappear like him. I thought he needed me to cheer him up, but he doesn't. That's okay. I don't need him all the time either, just knowing he is there is enough to get me through most rough times.

I am getting drunk for Ben. I am glad he isn't unhappy on his birthday. I am looking forward to knowing Ben when he IS old (not 25, but 75) and still loving each other and being young at heart together in our golden years.

I love you, Ben. Happy Birthday!!!

a poem for review...

2005-04-09T01:25:00.000-04:00

medium for the archieves
april 8th, 2005

my mom wasnt a stay-at-home mom
she was a housewife*
I dont have childhood memories
of her scrubbing, and vaccuuming
and moping the floors
to a spin-n-span sparkle
But the house was always clean

When I stay home
I get some chores done
but my house will never be
as clean as my mother's

My mother went to college
she was never taught
that she was to marry
a nice-man to take care of
she married for love
and took care of him
none-the-less

generations of women
are being rasied
to think they can be
good enough to work
but are they good enough
to keep up a home?

I remember the ironing
a lost art form
my mother would iron
a gargantuan table cloth
the "good linen"
with masterful skill
not a millimeter would touch the ground
not a centimeter ironed twice
in 25 minutes
the weeks ironing was done

I dont know how to
turn my own iron ON
i cant remember if
you wait for it to beep
or the light to go off
when it is ready
because I iron
once a year
at most

my mother is an arist
of ink and paint and word
but the thing I admire most
is her artistic stylings
in home care
because that is americana
and truely
a thing of the past

*revision -- after my mother's review I decided I should change this word to "homemaker". A) she like the word better (a.k.a. thinks it has better connotations) and B) thinks it drives home the point of caring for a home. I agree with point A, but point B...is actually more shocking to hear and therefore makes the poem more striking when it takes the turn of respect. We discussed this and we both agree, either could work either way. She also told me the story of how she learned to iron...from my father's father. A story for another time.

Pictures Worth A Million Cocktails...

2005-04-03T04:17:00.000-04:00

24 pictures from my 24th birthday misadventures:

http://wadeandeva.com/gallery/evabday05

Need I say more?

Easter Hunt

2005-03-27T15:08:00.000-04:00

Happy Easter, to those who celebrate Easter.

We had an Easter Egg hunt this morning for plastic eggs filled with m&m's. Yum. Riley is still saying "mo egg, mo egg".

Only 5 days until my birthday. If you would like to send me some money, you can paypal it to edelvecc@comcast.net.

Easter pictures of Riley will be up later today and possibly some other pictures I've taken over the last couple weeks, if I get time.

One Week Away

2005-03-24T17:08:00.000-04:00

One week until my birthday. The big 2-4. Yup. I have always loved (and milked) my birthday. I start celebrating March 1st (at the latest) and end around Memorial Day. Last week was St. Patrick's Day and as much as I love holidays that focus on getting really drunk, this holiday has always been the 2-weeks-to-go-until-your-birthday Day.

Yipee.

I have started collecting bowling themed picture frames (I have always collected bowling themed things, just not that specific before). So if you find any, email me for my address.

Blah, blah Blogging and Such...

2005-03-24T16:46:00.000-04:00

This is my new blog. I've never actually had a "blog". I had a web journal at eva.is.fierce.org for years, back in the day. I thought I would start this as a place to put random crap. Okay enough for now.