AnniThyme's Open Salon Blog

Uhm. So. HI!

Thu, 7 Jul 2011 06:07:40 -0400

Yeah. I know. It's been awhile.

I SWEAR I've been doing much more than feeling sorry for myself. But, seeing as how it's an anniversary and all, I have to do the obligatory post. Give me a week and I'll post other links to what I've been doing. Promise.

(Also, apparently, I have forgotten how to embed links. HRMPH!)

http://www.youtube.com/embed/VastXQ_hPb0

It has been 6 years.

6 years that have gone past in a blink of an eye.

6 years that have lasted a lifetime.

5 years, and 359 days ago, you passed. (Or, as the family jokes, Nana killed you as part of her master plan.)

But it was 6 years ago that I found you.

And I still feel fucking guilty for leaving you alone.

I guess what I'm trying to say is this -

_________________________________

It's been 6 years.

6 fucking years.

6 years since I re-opened that painful scar that I thought was healed over, after Mom left us.

6 years of re-depression (after working so hard to getting closer to fine. And actually, ACTUALLY, being fine.)

http://www.youtube.com/embed/HUgwM1Ky228

6 years of wondering, "What the fuck?!"

6 years of acting that everything was okay.

6 years of fake-smiling.

6 years of brushing everything off.

6 years of saying, "Yes, I am hurt. But no, no. No! REALLY. It's okay. I'M okay."

6 years of pretending.

_________________________________

I miss you as much today as I did then.

But at least, for the most part anyways, the immediacy is gone.

The raw hurt is now just a dull throb.

It's just something that I live with, yanno?

But I think that, for you, the immediacy never left. Not once Mom was gone.

I think that, for you, the raw hurt never dulled.

And I think that, for now, for the first time ever, I understand.

I really understand.

I really understand your grief.

_________________________________

Now? Now I really get that Mom was your only woman.

http://youtu.be/TYJGfrKQ7nU

Don't get me wrong Pops. I know - down to my marrow, my heart, and my soul - that I was your baby girl.

Shortly before you died, you started opening up to me. And I to you. I thought we would have a few more years, at least.

But we didn't.

I remember stealing the mixed tapes you made. (It was my secret way of tapping into your life.) And for the longest time I thought that this song, which you put on all of your tapes, was for Mom. It wasn't until later, much later, that I realized it was for me.

And the first time I realized that? I cried like a fucking baby.

http://www.youtube.com/embed/9-n3Ydy7ras

So then, as now, I know that you thought I was lovely (even though at times - most of the time - you wanted to kill me.)

I just hope you knew that I thought the same of you.

It's been 6 years.

_________________________________

I've never liked the number 6.

(I may be putting myself out on a ledge, but? I really fucking miss you. And I love you, Dad. I just wish I had the balls to say it to you out loud, while you were still alive.)

Hey, how YOU doin'?

Wed, 2 Feb 2011 01:02:19 -0500

(Or, how I've spent my time while on an unintentional hiatus.)

Well shit. It's been a while, hasn't it? Life took a turn for the surreal and I feel like I'm finally getting my land-legs back. In no particular order, this is what the past year has been like in my world:

Found my roommate bleeding, in the living room, after a suicide attempt (he's pulled through and is now seeing a psychiatrist)
Got dumped (and found out via Facebook status change)
Went out on some great dates, and some other not so great ones
Rejoined a dance troupe of which I was a co-founder
Learned that some of my closest friends' parents were diagnosed with cancer (and Cancer? Fuck you!)
Lost some friends (again, fuck you Cancer and Murder/Suicide)
Gained some new ones
Woke up to a phone call from my cousin that Nana's house burned, and in doing so, almost lost part of my family (thank the universe that one particular door was closed)
Regained my sense of self and decided to travel more
Spent a day at the beach photographing my friend and her son
Evicted my uncle from my house (apparently telling him for months that he had to move wasn't enough, oh no! Had to tape an actual notice to the door of the bedroom ... )
After evicting said uncle, found out he stole my planter amongst other very random stuff (I shit you not, he stole the planter that was part of the master bedroom patio. The PLANTER! Dude jack-hammered the bricks to take them. What the ... ?)

So.

All in all, a jam packed year, no? By the end of 2010 I needed a break. The company I work for has mandatory time off the week between Christmas and New Years, and a friend invited me to go to NYC for New Years, so ... I went. (Hell, wouldn't you?)

I went from this:

(View from the fam's living room window on Xmas eve)

To this:

(View from the Highline on 12/26)

I was able to make it from Brooklyn to JFK on the 26th, but couldn't make the last 1.5 miles from JFK to my hotel room. (Let me just say, Terminal 5's baggage claim area was a quite cozy place to sleep. Ahem.)

After many, many, many, manymanymany hours I made it back to my hotel and then promptly passed out. The next day I went out exploring. First stop? Central Park:

(As a child, and current denizen of, Southern California, and with almost a decade spent in the SF Bay Area, I am no stranger to street art. However, the concept of snow art is new to me.)

After a while, I got the hang of the subway system:

Since I was on the East Coast, it was time to hop the train to head to Buffalo to visit my old SF roomie, Ken. (If you are a Mac lover, and a fan of podcasts, check out that link.) Ken and his wonderful girlfriend were gracious hosts and dutifully carted me, the tourist, around. Did we go to "The Falls"? OH yes, yes we did:

(I must admit, I'm quite giddy over how this photo turned out.)

Back on the train to meet up with a friend for our NYE weekend. We were dumb enough to head to Times Square:

I'm very grateful to have experienced the madness that is Times Square, and have no clue who this guy is, but for some reason he made me smile:

I'll be back in NYC in March, for more exploration, but hopefully this time without the blizzard. And after that trip, I'll also come back with more ink. And more photos.

Oh, the Places You'll Go!

Wed, 2 Jun 2010 02:06:13 -0400

(Or, Oh, the Joys of Online Dating!)

Off and on since the mid-to-late 90’s, I have been a fan of getting to know people online, either through message boards, chat services, or more recently, online dating. There is just something about the game of it all – trying to create a face to match the words, figure out which tone and inflection they meant, if their speaking voice matches their written one, and if what they wrote was meant with a smile (or a sneer).

Not all of the people I met were with an eye towards romance. Sure, some were, but many weren’t – most were met because we shared a love of music or dance. Between the “were” and “weren’ts”, almost all of them I can count among (real-life) friends to this day.

Today most of my online networking is to keep in touch with friends, to learn more about photography and writing, and, I admit, dating. When I get a “ding” notifying me that I have new mail, it is true that I get just a touch giddy. Clicking on that unread message I never know what I will pull out of the grab bag. Sometimes it’s a new tip on how to better frame a photograph, other times it is letting me know I caught someone’s eye.

And those eye-catching moments can be oh so much fun. Words and witticisms fly fast and furious from our fingertips. Thought, innuendo, and intent leap from the page into our mind. And at times all of the online back and forth can live and breathe in real life. When the written intimation turns to real intimacy writ large on our bodies.

But sometimes those eye-catching moments are nothing more than a bit of sand, stuck under your contact lens. Take, for example, my most recent date.

On paper he was great. A shared sense of humour and of music. A love of children and animals. But then … then, we actually met. It was innocuous, really. A Starbucks located about halfway between where we both live. And then?

He started talking.

What follows will never, ever, compare to the date who brought a date … to the date. (The woman who wrote this continues to amaze me.)

The first flag should have been the fingernails. They were long. And dirty.

Let me say, I do love long nails. And dirty ones. (Preferably if the long nails are on a woman, and the dirty ones are because of working in the yard or on a car.) But these? These reminded me of my coffee-shop days, hanging out with junkies and the quasi-homeless. Unkempt, they were. And my first reaction was to be verklempt. Brushing it off, I went inside and grabbed some caffeine.

Once back on the patio, and barely two sips into my iced-coffee, we started off with the whole, “what do you do again?” opener. As soon as I mentioned “title insurance”, it was off to the races. He asked if that had to do with title to a house. That right there, gave him points, since many people don’t know what, exactly, title insurance is. He wanted to know if there was a way to get rid of a neighbor.

Okay … ?

“Why so?”, I asked. (I mean, who wouldn’t? There HAS to be a story here. And, boy howdy, was there a story. Plus many more to come.)

“Well, when I was 3 the guy across the street raped me, and then, when I was 6 his son molested me. And right now the son is still there and he is running a meth house. Since the cops are no longer corrupt, but just lazy, we can’t really call and complain. So, it’s really not a place where my son can go out and play. And I want to get rid of them.”

Wow.

Just. Wow.

How the fuck do I respond to THAT? Much nodding and murmuring ensued, and I hoped the noises and head bobbing were sympathetic.

After an hour I was told that I “don’t seem to be a real redhead”. (Because, in his experience, ALL redheads are off their rockers and certifiably insane.) “Is it your experience that all redheads have freckles?”

Uhm.

Well.

Maybe?

“I can only speak to my own experience, but most of the ones I know DO have freckles.”

“Oh, okay. Because the ones I know do have freckles, but they are all crazy.”

I couldn’t respond, because when you try to convince someone else of your mental wellbeing, it just makes you appear … well, crazy. So, again, I nodded. After another story, when I said that I had to get going, so in order to fight traffic to head to Hollywood to see a friend perform, I was met with, “Wait, let me finish my story …”

I’m not sure if I should just hang up my hat and become the crazy cat-lady, or if I should just accept any date that comes my way; if only to hear the stories that come.

Because, shit …

… at least I’ll have something to talk about.

Later.

When I am not driving away, with my foot pressed on the gas pedal. And pleading to my car to please, please, just, “go, go, go! Get me out of here!”

And hoping, “Oh lord. Please tell me he didn’t get my license plate number.”

Through a released breath

Sun, 30 May 2010 20:05:34 -0400

In every TV show
And in every movie
Someone …

Somehow …

Got to say goodbye.

The audience
Was able to bury their ghosts.
Even if it was through a snowglobe.

Shaking the reality into a dream
Allowing their pent up fears to be expelled
Through a released breath.

But I …

I?

Never got to shake up my world.
(My world was shaken.)
I never got to turn understanding on its head.
(“This can’t be real, can it?”)

I?

Never was able to say,
“Hey. You? I love you.”
I never

…

… I never got to say goodbye.

Just 'cuz

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 04:04:01 -0400

I want to laugh.
Unabashedly.
(Just 'cuz I amuse myself.)

("Don't smirk at me like that", I think.)

I want to smile.
For no reason.
(Just 'cuz it amuses others.)

("Don't laugh at me like that", I think.)

I want to sing.
Loudly, and off key.
(Just 'cuz I want to.)

("Don't shake your head at me like that", I think.)

I want to dance.
Joyfully, and fully.
(Just 'cuz when I do so, I am home.)

("Don't point at me like that", I think.)

I want to write.
Openly, and honestly.
(Just 'cuz when I am raw, so are you.)

("Don't glare at me like that", I think.)

I want to take pictures.
To show the beauty.
(Just 'cuz I want to share how I see the world.)

("Don't cock your head to the side like that", I think.)

I want to love.
Unconditionally.
(Just 'cuz I need to.)

("Don't be afraid", I pray.)

And?

I want to live.
My life.
(My way.)

(Just 'cuz ... ?)

... we all should.

(What can I say? I am embracing my inner "dog" right now. Go on. Wag your tail. Shake your butt. Slobber over the ones you love. Live in the moment. Why? Just 'cuz.)

I mean, why not?