We're All Mad Here » Manifestos

Season of Change

shell — Thu, 18 Feb 2010 03:24:40 +0000

Today was a celebration! We celebrated Solaris’ 4 years of existence ana Angry Chef Boy’s 30 days of sobriety. I’m celebrating both with a nice Napa Cab. It’s from a winery called Bohemian Highway–the last bottle misplaced amongst the Vermouth’s and covered in fingerprints. I figured she needed a home. Surprisingly, I really like it. And I think it ended up being under $10. Double swoon.

So I survived. 1460 days of being a mom (love) and 2195 days of Angry Chef antics (not so much). I’m celebrating a new job, cheers. A new lola, cheers and a new found sense of freedom. More importantly, I’ve survived 30 days of hurt and I’ve come out on the other side stronger. Not in the “I can walk through fire” mentality I had while “surviving” college, but in a softer, “I’ve learned to be human” sense. I’ve learned to forgive.

Now don’t get me wrong, I haven’t forgotten, I’ve just forgiven. And not just him. One moment of clarity, somewhere between here and Melbourne on 95…it came to me. An empathetic understanding of how things can spiral out for a person and how it can so easily, and un-willingly bring down those closest to them. So I forgave him, and I forgave someone else who use to be close to me from years ago, and at the same time I forgave myself (we all need a little reminder that it’s ok to be human, and faliable). And I feel a hundred times better.

Don’t get me wrong, there is forgiveness and there is co-dependency. My energy needs to be exerted on myself, to cultivate whatever it is that I NEED in life. If a personal relationship can not help in that endeavor but instead drains your energy and focus because you are investing in keeping the relationship afloat, it’s kind of a pointless waste. So you can forgive but you don’t have to rectify.

I have 90 days.

My new job is a 90 day contract, after which I can choose to stay or leave and they can choose to keep me or leave me. 90 days is an excellent trial run. So I thought, why not give a few more things in my life a 90 trail run. 90 days without television. 90 days vegetarian diet (I was contemplating 90 days raw but my body without protein would probably land me in the hospital). 90 days writing everyday. 90 days of art.

If you had 90 days to alter your life in a way you’ve always wanted to try, what would you do?

When Negotiations Backfire: A Look at Kids and Fashion

shell — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 19:54:56 +0000

iz’s 2nd birthday fash.

Today the kids are excited: they were invited to a party with other little girls. Not just any other little girls, but fellow Barbie aficionados. A dear friend of Miss Vero’s invited us. “The girls will love it,” she says “our block is a sea of pink Barbie Jeeps as far as the eye can see.”

This, of course, brings us to the battle du jour.
Solaris and fashion are like oil and vinegar. She tries, it’s just hard for her in a town where all the other little kids are fine in their Garanimal shorts and tees. We do a lot of research online and quality time with Vogue to try to steer her in the right direction. For instance, today it’s a balmy 80 degrees or so. IsaLuna dons her super cute floral tunic from Carters in a super cute blogosphere/etsy inspired print (sans panties, as usual with her, but that is another battle).

iz’s tunic pattern.

Sol pops out in a long sweater dress ready to go. I shake my head.

ME: You can’t wear that today, sweetie, it’s too hot out.

Sol: I’m cold.

ME: (Changing direction) It’s not really in season. Here, look online at what the other little girls are wearing.

I pull up the Gymboree site, followed by Saks. I quickly learn that trying to negotiate fashion decisions with Sol using the Saks site is a mistake. Skipping past all the more affordable outfits like Chloe, Isabel Garreton and Burberry (and I use “affordable” losely), she goes right for the D&G. Even Dior is 1/3 the price of Dolce&Gabbana.

Now don’t get me wrong, I am not one to spend more than $30 on a kid’s outfit given how they have a tendency to completely DESTROY anything they get near. (Artist kids– if it can be painted, it will be painted). And isn’t the purpose of buying higher quality clothing so it last longer, or is this just my utilitarian view of the matter? So if they are only in a size for a month or two, what is the point?

The Principles of Fashion Education in Emo Preschool
The original purpose of the exercise was to instill an appreciation for fashion, not that I want her to go out and drop $300 on a kid’s outfit, but so that she can learn an appreciation for style and quality so when she is out at a really great vintage shop and happens across an awesome vintage Balenciaga she won’t think twice about snatch it up for her dear mother. Ok, so really it’s so that she is able to recognize classic lines, textures and colors and apply them to more sensible items.

Fashion is an art, and like any other art is an equal mix of investment and sensuality. To not teach them to appreciate art is a tragedy. Materialism is an entirely different monster from art appreciation. She can go and experience a Van Gogh the same way she can experience a Versace, but it doesn’t mean she needs to own it. In fact, sometimes I wonder if the better investment would be to never own a Van Gogh, but instead take the lessons his pieces teach her about art and learn to recognize the potential in up and coming artists.

At least until she marries her pianist prodigy husband, Ethan and can buy herself as many Van Goghs and D&G sun dresses as her little heart desires. Until then the sweaters stay in the closet when the thermometer breaks 75, kid.

Curtain.

shell — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 20:20:59 +0000

Scene: Curtain rises on our heroine, slightly older and a tinge more single than the last time we met. The plants have all died, except for a few mints who will outlive the oldest cockroach at the end of time. Empty pots scattered in a corner, memories of a lighter era.

I’m not entirely sure what is next, or where the journey will lead me, but I am sure it will be an entertaining voyage! I apologize for the prolonged absence.

Happy Birthday…Old

shell — Fri, 21 Nov 2008 03:39:32 +0000

Geriatric, originally uploaded by duncan.

Ok, so my B-day is approaching…at a creeping crawly rate, it’s not so much the date as the aching pain in my knees as I joyfully bound up the stairs…and down the stairs…and up the stairs that reminds me that thirty is around the bend. I’m on this side of the 5, which is official “round up” territory according to elementary mathematics. Anyway, as my birthday approaches I’m beginning to think of all the things I want to accomplish in my life… by the time the big three oh makes it here.

Let’s role with a list (and this may be fever induced, since I am sitting here sick…which is probably the only reason I am able to update the Madness).

1. Finish learning how to juggle
2. Learn how to contact juggle
3. Learn to walk on stilts
4. Write a book (and not one of those crappy ass memoirs that has to go through a subsidy pub to hit the streets, a non-fiction reference book on a subject flowing through my brain)
5. Learn aerial silks…and build the flexibility and strength to actually perform it without breaking my neck
6. Learn to clown
7. Start a sustainable farm/artist colony
8. Play the viola again
9. Learn to play the guitar
10. Get my Master Gardener Certification
11. Become an Anima Apprentice or at least gain the knowledge you would have at the end of training (minus the exuberant cost)
12. Learn to use my airbrush that has been sitting silently for three years, preferably on body art.
13. Explore my exhibitionist tendencies, savor my voyeuristic ones.
14. Meet Anthony Bordain and not hump his leg…I mean, compare notes.
15. Buy really expensive costumes for the hell of it, maybe learn some burlesque.
16. Become a bigger internet celeb than I already am!!! P.S. We were just featured on Capessa, I will link to it in another article, rock!
17. Finally figure out a way to combine my installation and performance artwork ideas and make some bank.
18. Try that really smelly fruit that they always make the poor travel channel hosts eat on their shows, what the hell is it’s name again?
19. Totes become a locavore (yay! Oysters!)
20. Take a physics class (and pass, hopefully)
21. Take the mensa test, just out of curiosity…not that my idea of fun involves sitting around playing scrabble and comparing metal abilities in phallic-esque Olympic pursuits.

So that is my list, things I want to accomplish in my next four years. In essence, less corpro-addict, more art. Fingers crossed.

Reusable Grocery Bags and “My Cold, Dead Hands”

shell — Mon, 04 Aug 2008 14:01:53 +0000

Plastic Bags with…Plastic Bags inside.hm part2 by scottwyden

I was going through the list of bloggers who will be at this years BlogOrlando Conference in September and came across Lorrie Delk Waker’s Banning Plastic Bags Article. Amused by the way people are associating (scapegoating) plastic grocery bags with civil rights, I gave my two cents which I’ll give here (it’s more like 20 cents…a bit long and warranted a blog entry more so than a comment.) Read the comments on the original post above including:

I would have to disagree with the ban on plastic bags. I understand your points, and I agree with your anecdotes as sort of egregious examples of waste, but I personally feel the government has absolutely no business telling me what kind of *grocery bag* I can use.

The old standby (paper) has always been there, and many stores are offering the new, reusable bags, and that is about as far as you can go without crossing the line. You can educate, you can offer, but God help you if you force. ~C. Rhode

“I don’t want the government telling me…” seriously? How many areas in your life, big areas does the government influence you in what you should and should not do? You seriously need to be kidding me if you are going to overlook those and get spiffed on a bag. Pick your four favorite months of the year…those four months you work your wages go straight to them, and that doesn’t make you a bit angry?

I mean, god forbid you be inconvenienced a few minutes each shopping trip to grab your own bags. And you can find great bags out there. Lacoste and Marc Jacobs make shopping bags upward of $200 if you are worried about the big green bag crashing your style.

The reality is… Think about how much junk we are leaving behind for our children. Look at your daughter, son, grandchildren…you wouldn’t consciously feed them poison but the waste of not only the bags themselves but the manufacturing process is building up in the air, soil and even the kids bodies.

If you don’t want to relinquish your precious bags because you don’t want people telling you what to do your a moron, or lazy. Neither of which I think is true. The real reason is you are afraid. Change is scary but it’s required or we will self destruct. You touch a stove, it’s hot and you get burned. Touching the stove doesn’t work. You know that now. You don’t do it again. This is where we are at now. Have you heard of the Pacific Vortex? Look at this map, it’s huge! 10 million tons of trash, mostly plastic in our oceans. Plastic that does not decompose. And plastic has only been around for less than 150 years. 10 million tons (and plastic is light, how much takes up a ton?) in less than 150 years. And it’s not going anywhere.

I love this article, seeing how San Francisco just passed a ban on them. The youth (and young at heart) are really taking to living responsibly. A lot of people don’t understand that the “modern conveniences” so readily handed to them are products of commerce and not necessarily of sustainable interest. If we keep pushing this idea from a marketing objective that the young are going green, eventually in our desperate pursuit of youth and beauty it will catch on. Probably with less hostility than “the government will pry my plastic bag from my cold, dead hand.”

Who Are You?

shell — Mon, 16 Jun 2008 02:12:52 +0000

Simplemom.net tells me I should narrow down my daily blog intake to a healthy amount, citing 75 as a bit much (then what is 104?). They say it will help me with my time management. Yeah… I just don’t see that happening anytime soon. I admit, my Bloglines runneth over, but what if I miss a day of Dooce or DaddyTypes? What if one clever Bossy-ism slips past my screen? What if I miss a Crafty Crow suggestion of some wonderful art project in all of their slightly super saturated photojournalistic glory? You know, the ones you try with your child that leave you frustrated to tears with a wailing eight month old on one hip and a toddler, a chair and two walls covered in paint, chalk, marker and a pint of sand. The fun ones.

I love blogs like House on Hill Road, Sycamore Stirrings and Sugar City Journal, they sit in a folder I reserve for particularly guilt-driven days when I want nothing more than to see smiling children in perfectly primed, coordinated, freshly bleached whites. I close my eyes and pretend for a minute that it is my house (the same with my “House Fodder” folder, not so much parent based…minus ohdeedoh…but equally as gluttonous).

I’m your normal stay at home mom of two (thing one: 29 months, thing two: 8 months). We practice frugal living, urban homesteading, freegan tactics and at times deep, deep denial to make it through. Life isn’t nearly as perfect as a lot of SAHMs make it out to be. I have visions of sugar plums and that 1950’s house wife dancing through my head in the wee hours of the morning before I get woke up by the co-sleeping, attachment parented baby wiggling a diaper butt in my face and the toddler beginning her repetitive chant of “malk, malk, maaaaaalk” that starts my day.

I think I’m 25, but I still feel 19 (until nap time) and I swear college was just a few weeks ago. Where did the time go? How did I get…established? I left my career as an Art Director in a Publishing House to marry my husband and become a mommy, a job I wouldn’t trade for the world: because there are way too many people on the world and its hard enough trying to convince my husband of adding a third, let alone a couple billion. But it suits me, at times the walls close in and I need a good cup of tea to get me through (or coffee if the walls are really, really close). But all my credentials and all the talent in the world wouldn’t make me a better mother than my sense of humor, my survival gear and a garden hose (think about that one for a bit).

Chasing Utopia

shell — Mon, 19 May 2008 14:46:08 +0000

Read this article in the New York Times, via a link from this article on Techno-Urban Survivalism (they are discussing turning all the glass condos on the stagnant market into green houses, really has nothing to do with voluntary simplicity) at TreeHugger.com. And after coming across things like the Dancing Rabbit EcoVillage in my search for…whatever it is I am searching for (at the time, like homemade cleaner…not like “the greater meaning of it all”), I’ve come to a conclusion.

I really admire the ability to pick up everything and head to the woods. <insert bitter sarcasm in case you missed it the first time> It takes a strong person to hide from the problems in society instead of fulfilling your responsibilities as a global citizen and attempt to problem solve and create change. It doesn’t take a strong person to leave behind all their earthly possessions and go hide in a cabin away from it all. You are not impressive.

“But we’re looking for a better way,” you whine. Great, but how many people will walk away from their Miami flats to go frolic in the hills of where ever and grow tomatoes? We are accustom to society the way it is, to the immediacy and the glitz and the craze. Your change will only work for a handful of people, and a handful isn’t enough. I don’t like being in the midst of it any more than you do, but it is our responsibility to our children to live in the society as active participants and seek out better ways to replace what we currently have that is not working and leading to self-destruction. If everyone who was capable of doing it went in hiding, how will we ever change?