Psyched because
The guy who is in charge of the music at the New Year's party I am going to tonight promised me to bust out some Milli Vanilli. Also, he once wore a Milli Vanilli costume to a party.
I found an awesome new jacket that is almost as awesome as the one that disappeared at Burning Man this year and took with it my will to live. Except the new one is greener and has a hood and pockets and is not made out of fleece. So in some ways it's even more awesome than the old one but it's not the old one so it's not as awesome.
One of my favorite books has been made into a movie.
Bust Magazine has an interview with Parker Posey, and it reminded me how much I love her and of the movie Party Girl, which I shall rent again very soon, and it also inspired me to write to the person who interviewed Parker and ask about doing a taxi column for Bust.
Starrie is helping me redesign the website for Psychic Valentines.
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.: posted by Vera 
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The Year of the Tear
Yes, I shed a lot of tears this year. It doesn't mean that it was a bad year; in many ways this was one of the best years of my life. It doesn't even mean that I was sad a lot this year; it just means that I did a lot of healing of past emotional injuries.
I used to think that crying was "bad" and had to be stopped. That's because people had always tried to stop me when I was crying. They did so in pleasant ways, like an ex-boyfriend who held me and softly said "Shhhhh, shhhhh," or in unpleasant ways, like a girlfriend who said "I hope that NEVER happens again" when I had cried after getting drunk and going to a club together because I was depressed about something. Pleasant or unpleasant, somebody had always tried to stop me, so I had started to stop myself many years ago.
I relearned to let myself cry in my counseling training. Early on, when the teacher counseled sobbing students in front of the class, I thought that that could never be me. I didn't think that I could let my guard down enough to cry in front of anyone. But by the end of the training I was crying in almost every counseling session I received. And that was a good thing.
Steve, the counseling teacher, said something once that has really settled in with me. He said--I paraphrase: When you cry, it doesn't mean that you are hurting or that something bad is happening. The hurt or the bad thing have already happened; now you are healing from it by crying. When you force yourself to stop crying, it doesn't mean that the pain stops. The pain stops when you are DONE crying, when you are done healing.
That's why I don't ever inhibit my tears anymore when I feel them coming on. And they come on a lot these days. And every time there is a message for me if I just pay attention closely enough to what exactly is making me cry. Which thought, which words I read or hear, which words I speak are what trigger me and why? Paying attention to that has given me a lot of insight. For instance, when my aunt and I were in Hawaii, she said something like "You have had a pretty difficult life. There was the neurological disease, your mental illness, your body image issues, problems with your girlfriends,..." That's when I started crying. I started crying when she was talking about my girlfriends. That's when I knew that I needed to pay attention, and when I paid attention, I realized that this is actually something I have been thinking about a lot lately: girlfriends. I realized that I have a long history of sabotaging friendships by pulling back, running away, "breaking up," and that as a result I often feel lonely. I have decided to take better care of my girlfriendships and to find balance between freedom and connectedness, outside the extremes of loneliness and claustrophobia, and I have been consciously working on that and reaching out.
Another example is from when I was reading the book There Is Nothing Wrong With You . The following passage totally triggered me and had me sobbing:
I picture this child who doesn't know whether she wants the red bucket or the blue bucket. The truth is, she wants them both. They're both really pretty and she likes them equally, and she can't make up her mind. What she doesn't know is that in this world, you only get one because getting both makes you selfish.
The message in those tears is manifold, I believe. There is something about the guilt of wanting things, the guilt of not wanting to give something (I can hear my mom's voice saying "You only want to have, have, have, and you never give"), and also the guilt of having chosen something and then changing my mind (my dad, for example, is disappointed that he spent thousands of dollars so that I could get a degree in economics, and now I'm not really using that degree to make money). What I took away from this trigger is that it's okay to want things, it's okay to not want to give something that somebody else is asking for, and it's okay to recoil on a decision.
Finally, I leave you with a poem by Julia Cameron that made me cry this morning:
WORDS FOR IT
I wish I could take language
And fold it like cool, moist rags.
I would lay words on your forehead.
I would wrap words on your wrists.
"There, there," my words would say--
Or something better.
I would ask them to murmur,
"Hush" and "Shh, shhh, it's all right."
I would ask them to hold you all night.
I wish I could take language
And daub and soothe and cool
Where fever blisters and burns,
Where fever turns yourself against you.
I wish I could take language
And heal the wounds that were the words
You have no names for.
Crying is okay here. May your tears be cleansing in 2007.
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.: posted by Vera
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Art therapy
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.: posted by Vera
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Intersections
What I didn't mention in this taxi story is that while I was lying on his couch waiting for the guy with the shaved head to get ready, I read a couple of chapters in his copy of My Girlfriend Comes to the City and Beats Me Up by Stephen Elliott, who lives in San Francisco. Shortly after that I discovered that the same Stephen Elliott had recently left a comment on my taxi blog. I emailed him to tell him of this interesting coincidence, and he responded briefly.
A few weeks ago, while I was doing some work at Ritual, I was pretty sure I saw Stephen Elliott there, based on the picture in his bio, and I kept staring at him and thinking "I'm pretty sure it's him. Yes, it must be him," but I was in too bad of a mood to say anything to him.
Today, on Christmas fucking Day, I was driving at 17th and Valencia, and I saw the same guy I had seen at Ritual, this time on a bicycle, stopped at the same intersection. My window was rolled down and I grinned at him. I was in a better mood this time.
"Are you Stephen Elliott?"
"Yeah."
"I'm Vera, the cab driver."
"Hi Vera!"
"Hi."
I then almost got into an accident with another car when making a left turn while trying to communicate with Stephen Elliott. I waved good-bye at him and he said "Email me" and I said "Kay. Bye."
I live for moments like these when I'm at the right place at the right time.
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.: posted by Vera
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Und dann
After my field trip to Pasadena on Saturday, I had lunch with Amparo, and my favorite thing Amparo said was "Pink Berry" because I really liked the way she said it. Then I went to Melrose and bought a green T-shirt at Slow and then I drove around on Beverly Boulevard and bought a mocha from Insomnia and some flowers for Lyzz. That night Lyzz and I drove to Orange County to have dinner with Angelo and Carlo, who are brothers and with whom we used to hang out a lot in college, and Angelo's girlfriend, whom I knew, and two of their cousins, whom I didn't know, and it was really great to see them, but it also felt like they had moved a lot in one direction, and I had moved a lot in another direction, which is very different from their directions. Like, Angelo had bought a condo in Orange County, and Carlo had moved to San Jose to be closer to his job, and while I highly respect these choices and they are fine choices, I cannot personally relate to them very much, and at the same time I'm sure that Carlo and Angelo can't relate very well to some of my recent choices either. So there is that.
The next morning we went to the beach so that Lyzz and her sister could surf and I could take pictures of them surfing, and then I met my dear friend Colin for breakfast, and my favorite thing he said was "I like selling out", and his brother was with him too, who is getting a Ph.D. in Cognitive Psychology and who told me that he is studying autobiographical memory, and I found that term utterly fascinating, of course I did, I mean, I keep writing blog posts like the last one, that rely very heavily on autobiographical memory. I love all my autobiographical memories.
After saying good-bye to Colin, I started my drive back up north, and I listened to about two hours' worth of a CD set Christabel is letting me borrow, called Finding the Path of Joy Through Energy Balance , and there were these voices in my head that kept saying "You read way too many self-help books and shit. You must be really fucked up if you need this much help. Why can't you read novels, like cool people do? This is really quite embarrassing. You should keep this a secret," but when I felt totally blissed out at the end of the last CD and felt more connected to the universe than I had since maybe Witch Camp, those voices totally shut up.
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.: posted by Vera
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Greetings from the Equator
I'm in Pasadena, at my favorite coffee shop, Equator. I drove all day yesterday to get to Lyzz's. Amparo joined us, and the three of us had dinner together. Then we all went back to Lyzz's place and talked and sipped sipping chocolate. One of my favorite things that Lyzz said that night was "I enjoy crying sometimes." I said "Fuck yeah." When Amparo left, Lyzz's clock said 11:54, so I went to sleep. Little did I know that the clock was fast by an hour and a half.
I woke up when Lyzz's clock said 8:00, so it was really 6:30. I laid snuggled in on Lyzz's luxury air mattress for a while and thought to myself "I'm so happy to be here right now. I can feel my heart healing with every passing minute." I love slumber parties. I don't know why I don't do them more often.
Lyzz was still sleeping when I got up. I drove to Pasadena on a sunny, empty, early-morning freeway. My plan was to go to Equator and then find a hair place to get the roots done on the black part of my hair and the color brightened on the turquoise part. As I was driving around Pasadena, I saw a sign that said "Hot Heads" and the number for a hair salon. It was on Raymond and Del Mar. I called the number. It was 8:30 in the morning. I didn't even think they would be open yet. The friendly woman on the other end said "Can you come, like, now?" I said "I can, actually." I parked my car and went into the building that had the sign on it. The hair salon was super warm and cozy and smelled like vanilla and sugar candles. There were Christmas lights and Christmas decoration everywhere. Laura did my hair. She said she was booked solid for the day but at the time I called, she actually had a minute and decided to do this for me. I was glad I called.
With my new hair I finally went to Equator. I was shocked to see that they were in the process of remodeling. I have been coming here on and off for 13 years. Luckily, some things were still the same, like the menus.
When I'm in Pasadena, I feel many past versions of myself. I feel the one from 1993, 17 years old, an exchange student, who still can't quite believe that she is living in an American metropolitan area and that even here you might hear Faith No More's Midlife Crisis on the radio, one of her favorite songs.
I feel the one from 1998, short-haired and broken-hearted, who frequents a bar called Muse with a multi-cultural group of friends and finds comfort in having been here before.
I feel the one from 2002 who just spent two years in Virginia and now lives in San Francisco but who loves visiting Pasadena even if none of her West LA friends understand why.
I feel the one from 2005 who feels very alive and hopeful and is taking her dear Finnish boyfriend to her favorite coffee shop in the world.
And I feel this one, the one that's closest to me right now, who sits on the fence between 2006 and 2007, who is heart-broken again and ego-bruised and confused and doesn't really know what's next but has the distinct feeling that whatever comes next is going to be really, really good.
On the way back to West LA from Pasadena, I was driving by the shiny buildings downtown, and I felt truly happy for the first time in about a month, and I remembered that this is what I moved to this country for over ten years ago, to drive by the shiny buildings downtown on a gigantic freeway, and even if I don't want the LA life anymore, I am thankful to be only six hours away from that life and to be back in it for a weekend once in a while.
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.: posted by Vera
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The universe sent me a Christmas present
Tomorrow I am driving down to Los Angeles to visit my friend Lyzz for the weekend. Whenever I go down there, which is about twice a year, I always drive because I love road trips. But this week I started doubting whether it was such a good idea to drive because I had been planning on driving a cab every day this week. So that's five days of cab driving, plus a round trip drive to Los Angeles, all in one week. That doesn't sound very healthy for my body.
Another thing that hasn't been very healthy is my bank account. Since quitting my high-paying freelance job in October, my main source of income has been from cab driving, with the occasional counseling session and translation project thrown in. Since then--and even before that, when I was just thinking about quitting--I have had a few sleepless nights in which I started seeing myself as a homeless person.
One phone call this week solved both of these issues, the issue of my body being battered by too much driving and the money issue. My former project manager from the freelance job I had quit called me yesterday. She is now working for a different company and asked if I could help out on a Flash project this week. I said sure. So this morning I took my laptop, went over to her new office in SoMa, cranked out a little project for Adidas, spared my body by not driving today, and got paid 45% more an hour than I did when I worked with her before. The reason I got paid more is that she hired me directly this time, not through an agency. So the fee that used to go to the agency, now went to me.
I think it all worked out very well. Sometimes I really miss working in an SF-typical, stylish, industrial-looking office full of geeks with laptops who take coffee breaks together. Today I was a laptop geek again, and that made the geek in me very happy. Plus, it's nice to do something different that pays well once in a while. And it's nice to have a skill that is appreciated by others even if I myself don't appreciate it as much as I once did. And it's nice to just get out and meet new people and have co-workers for a day. The company may call me again for more projects in January. They asked me if I would be okay with being "on call" for an ongoing basis. Little do they know that I love being on call. I can't do commitment, but I can totally do on call.
This post reminds me a lot of this post. I guess I'm still not over the wealth of freedom and flexibility (and serendipity!) I have discovered as a freelance multitasker.
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.: posted by Vera
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Synchronicity is back!
Yesterday I really wanted some chocolate, and when I got home from work, there was a package from my mom, full of chocolate from Germany.
I have been wanting some badass platform boots, and today I walked into the Buffalo Exchange near my house, and they had exactly the kind of boots I was thinking of, for really cheap too.
Then I walked into City Art Gallery on Valencia. A guy was sitting behind a table. He looked familiar. I said to him "What does an artist have to do to get their art in here?" He said "You have to fill out a form, and then there will be an interview and a peer review." He handed me a form. I looked at the form. Then I looked at him and said "You look really familiar. Are you a cab driver?" He looked at me with suspicion and said yes. I said "We were in class together. In taxi school. In April?" He said "I went there in March." I said "Yes, March."
Synchronicity, how I have missed you.
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.: posted by Vera
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Best compliment ever
"Hi."
"Hi. I have something for you." He shoves his hand in his pocket.
"Oh?"
"Give this to your boyfriend." He hands me a Super Lotto ticket for Wednesday, December 13, 2006. "He is the luckiest guy in the world. If anybody can win this, it's him."
Update: The Super Lotto ticket didn't win anything.
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.: posted by Vera
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I am needy
Several people, including friends and ex-lovers, have said to me recently "I think you want a boyfriend." And my response was always "No no no." I was lying to myself and others because I didn't want to fall into the needy girl cliché, I didn't want to fit into the box with the label "all girls want is to be in love and to get married."
It's true though, I do want a boyfriend. I have wanted a boyfriend ever since I can remember. And I have had boyfriends, and every time I had one, I would from time to time look at myself from above and say "Look at that, I have a boyfriend, how cool is that, I can hardly believe it, I actually have a boyfriend." And every minute of my life where I didn't have a boyfriend, I have wanted one. I think it goes without saying that not a lot of people are eligible to fill that role for me. Most people are not. I remember a specific incident in 8th grade when my buddy Karsten asked me "Vera, how come you don't have a boyfriend?" My response was "Because right now I like Holger and Holger doesn't like me." I have always been very specific and firm about who I want. But I guess what I haven't been so specific and firm about lately is what I want. Because I was afraid that revealing what I want would make me look needy. And needy is bad, apparently.
And I am here to admit that, as embarrassed and ashamed it makes me feel, I am needy. I am needy of affection and love. I am needy of feeling wanted and appreciated and adored and desired. But I have not been very kind to that needy part of myself. I have shoved it to the side, told it to shut up, asked it to please not embarrass me. But now, I am ready to be embarrassed and ashamed because after that comes the feeling of relief and of free space.
I am needy. There, I said it again. Ouch. Ahhhhhhh.
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.: posted by Vera
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Life v. 2.0
One year ago today I quit my job. I have not had a full-time job since.
I'm still walking and talking, eating and drinking. I still have my own apartment, a car and two computers. Go me!
One thing I have realized recently is that I don't ever want to do one thing full-time again. It bores me and burns me out. I need diversification in my work life. I don't want to be a full-time writer or a full-time painter or a full-time counselor or a full-time taxi driver. But I do want to be a writer and a painter and a counselor and a taxi driver. And I guess I already am all of those things, even if I don't get paid for all of them right now. And if at some point in the future I decide that I want to be something else as well, I will be that too, but probably not full-time.
I am getting by for now, and I imagine it will only get better as I get better at attracting money through my various passions and skills.
Anyway, happy anniversary, Life v. 2.0!
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.: posted by Vera
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I am speechless. I have no speech.
Sorry.
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.: posted by Vera
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