Makin' pancakes.

I guess I tend to blog when I'm trying to figure out some big thing in my life. Perhaps when things are good, I avoid overanalyzing. Perhaps things are good because I'm not overanalyzing. Touché.

All the Salvation Armies had "half off everything" sales yesterday, so naturally, I bought a ridiculously expensive camera and am attempting to sell it. Girl's gotta eat yo.

Speaking of eating, I am still eating several burritos daily weekly, but have now been cooking in my new kitchen on a somewhat regular basis. It's hard to get used to having a kitchen. Someone gave me a cookbook for Christmas, and I had the thought, "Does this mean something because you've never actually seen me cook, and I have no food in my fridge?" Asking myself that question was some sort of  necessary therapy, and I'm happy to say that I ate pancakes for dinner this evening.

Last night I listened to Merle Haggard and Waylon Jennings records, whilst listening to someone wax philosophical about the meaning of old school country music. I think at some point there was also dancing, so yeah, life is good :)

Goodwill outlet!!!!

Painted fabric - Someday a quilted wall hanging

Last week I traveled to the coast with a friend. My friend had a conference to attend, and I had an ocean to look at from our hotel room. I've been so worn down that I had trouble figuring out what to do with myself with all kinds of free time, so I did a lot of puzzles in the newspaper, and walked on the beach. I'm finding lots of enjoyment lately in crosswords and sudokus. I'm a simple gal.

The first night, I wandered around a super cool vegan-friendly grocery store, looking for dinner, only to realize that our hotel room's sole cooking device was a microwave, so I got some tacos nearby instead. I'd never had vegan tacos before (with grilled veggies). They were just okay.

Vera Marai Nightgown

The next day, I woke up to a wonderfully bright sunny day with the ocean steadily crashing on the beach far down below us. There were a lot of gulls of various sizes near the hotel. I imagine they were flying around. Some of them made crazy weird noises around sundown. I lived with howling monkeys. If there were a contest between groups of animals for weird nighttime noises, the gulls definitely wouldn't win, but they'd have a decent showing.

Anyhow, after I did some newspaper puzzles (all whilst watching Law & Order), I decided that the thing that I would actually enjoy doing would be to go thrifting. So I got out the phone book and made a plan. Obviously there weren't descriptions, so I just had to go off names. I really wanted to dig, so I looked for really dirty places. I don't know what sounds especially dig-worthy in a thrift store moniker, but I suppose I knew it when I saw it.

Pflatzgraff Norway - Cruiseline pottery

The first store I went to was a fund-raising store for the Catholic school in town, staffed with who appeared to be mothers of students. It was trying to be boutiquey, but it didn't have the je ne sais quoi that I'm always looking for. I like people who just go for it. If they're a place for digging, they own it. If it's a place that's trying to be antiquey and appeal to a higher class of customer, they own it. Anything in between is unappealing to me. I'm picky that way. I know when someone is being authentic. I'm brilliant that way.

I don't know why I picked a Goodwill store to put on my list of three (the maximum number I was willing to travel to in a strange city before needing to return to home base and eat lunch). But after the first store, I wasn't feeling hopeful. All of the Goodwills in my city are whitewashed and boring. I go when I need a fix, perhaps like Diet Coke addicts with a generic brand. But I've heard, in online thrifting lore, that not all Goodwills are like this, that there may be different ones out there, so I was willing to look.

Old football trophy - Sadly unmarked :(

It was a strange "suite" address, so I wasn't sure what I would be looking for. I drove around a large shopping area looking for it, only to drive away after a single lap. Even though it didn't look like any retail stores were beyond that particular area, I trusted my trusty address/map discernment earlier in the morning, and turned towards the questionable industrial section.

After a quarter mile or so, there were a bunch of people milling about a particular parking lot. There were some construction workers, yes, but there also appeared to be some non-working folk. Suddenly, I saw it. The Goodwill Outlet sign. I may have screamed or cried out some version of "Hooray!"

For the hydroponic gardener in us all...

After parking, I was cautious. What does one do at a thrift outlet? Are there cultural norms? Should I have a box with me? Gloves? Hand sanitizer? What if there are no helpful signs? What will I do?!

Old Speed Ball Font Book from 1952

Well, as all carbon-based life forms have found (I think), I looked around to see what other people were doing, and I did likewise. It didn't feel like what I expected it to feel like. It was smaller than I had imagined. But as I began looking, and digging, it hit me that I could find any number of things, that I would really get to "find" things. It was a fun hour.

There were clearly regulars. Who knows what people do with all of the things they buy there. The woman in front of me at the cash register bought $180 worth of stuff. I paid $8. The load was as much as I could carry, and food needed to be in my near future. The guy at the register (totally cute), weighed the clothing that I had, but charged me for the other items individually.

It was a dirty venture. If I'd known where I'd end up, I'd have better tools in my car. I don't like to use "antibacterial" products in general, but I appreciate water-free-hands-cleaning post-thrifting. I need to get on that. Maybe I need a car toolbox. I know. I know. This is old hat for most people, but I'm a bit bad on the planning side, so I'm slow to plan ahead. But after it was all over, I was so happy and warm and fuzzy. I felt like I'd gotten a cosmic gift, just for me. And now I want more outlet adventures! I'll let you know...

Wasteland.

Joanne Sibley watercolor print - She often paints the Caribbean area.

Wasteland (Almega Projects, 2010), a documentary largely conceptualized by artist Vik Muniz, is about trash and landfills in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It's interesting in many ways because of Rio's focus on general cleansing (e.g. running gangs out of the slums) as they prepare for the 2016 Olympic Games. The documentary focuses on the people who work and survive on the landfills, recycling all of that which can be recycled (as Rio has no separate recycling pick-up services), and even using the food to feed themselves (in very impressive, and non-disgusting ways, I will add).

This film sat on my Netflix queue for ages, as it seemed like something I would like (i.e. it was about trash, and my fantasy destination: landfills!), but I never got to it. Every time I considered it, I felt depressed, and found something funny to do instead.

Eventually, I watched it. It was that moment, when you've been waiting to do something for ages, but just waiting for the right moment. And it was beautiful, full of real human experience and emotion, and the deep raw-ness of working with trash, of being trash, and what that means to a person's soul. It's a beautiful film, both emotionally and aesthetically. Philosophically, it brings the hidden secret world into view, and exposes it for the truth it truly brings to the world and the human experience: those who live off the landfill are the most beautiful people you can find.

I don't know if the experience of these filmmakers could be recreated across the world in other landfill worker colonies, but I'm glad that they took the time to really see the people they researched. They made something beautiful in a dirty, ugly place. They found beauty that was already there.

Ah, vacation...

Hey, I'm hip and down with the Southwest vibe...

All great and precious things are lonely.

John Steinbeck, East of Eden

 
So I'm not a frou-frou coffee drinker. I've had moments in time where I have been, but all-in-all, I like it strong and I like it black, and I enjoy most diner coffee. I'm not picky.

But I had a class at night a couple years ago, and found that after a full day of classes, the best way to get through was to walk to the coffee shop at 7:30 and buy a soy mocha. I wasn't flush with cash, but I did it because it worked. It kept me awake, and it gave me something to look forward to. It was my self-care.

This week, I am in the presence of greatness. I am living with the Ferrari of espresso machines. It tells you what it needs at any given moment. It makes espresso at the touch of a button. It taught me how to make foam, and I have never made foam in my life.

Anyhow, it's made me think that when I am far older than I am today, and I have some sort of discretionary income, I will purchase one of these bad boys (hey, I even found some used on eBay), and be in general, a happier person overall.

Funny how small things can do that, huh?

Bye bye Bikram :(

Last Thursday or Friday, I drove the 20 minutes up the freeway to the Bikram studio, but there was weird traffic on the thoroughfare, making me late, which meant that I was locked out of class. And suddenly, in a moment, I had my answer: Bikram is not for me. My entire life is made up of appointments and being at the right place at the right time for other people. I need a place where I go just for myself, where I don't add stress to my day and life rushing (and no, I'm not in a place to dedicate more time over and above the already lengthy process).

My blood sugar has become so bad, and so unpredictable, that it isn't worth it. I had begun to imagine that my immune system was being activated, and perhaps even healing me, but my immune system being stimulated doesn't heal me. It hurts me. And I just have to accept that.

Thank you Bikram, for making me get in touch with my spine. Thank you for pushing me past limits I didn't know I had made for myself. Thank you for being a bad ass. You made me, for a brief period of time, feel like a bad ass too. Now I'll have to find other ways.

Peace out.

Ambiguity breeds anxiety :(

Skipper, the ultimate in waiting..."When will I be Barbie?"

I thought that after graduating, it might take a while to feel like myself again, but I'm finding that I only get moments here and there where I really feel sane and stable. Don't get me wrong; I'm not unstable, but I just feel, well, different.

Being in school, no matter how hard I worked, little I slept, and how poorly I cooked for myself (oatmeal x three = a day's worth of meals), I always had a purpose, a destination. And most days, especially 99% of the days of last year, I was genuinely happy with my life. But today, me with a masters degree is less happy and satisfied than me without said degree. And that doesn't make me happy.

I don't like being a pessimist, a cynic, a complainer. It's one thing to complain about Syria, Afghanistan, or factory farming, but it's just not admirable to be a stick-in-the-mud for no reason other than "Well, I dunno. I just don't feel like myself."

I spoke with a colleague this morning about this phenomenon, and he replied, "Yeah, that never goes away."

Sheesh.

Ack! I had a good night's sleep!

I swear these look mint green in person, but now I'm unsure.

Omg. My psyche was on OVERLOAD last night. I had this dream about massive flea markets and past and future selves meeting eachother. It was super cool. Andy from Weeds and Liam Neeson were there, along with massive mafia/drug gang action. My brain is a cool place.

I have been living without Earth Balance for a couple weeks, and it is not a happy place to be. I miss it so much. But I still have my Daiya cheese, so that makes it somewhat better. I am such a vegan. What can I say?

So there's been an unplanted pot of tomatoes in our backyard, just waiting to be planted, and it's been so stinkin hot, that I've just been watering them a lot. I figured that heat + relocation wasn't a good plan. Anyhow, finally, this morning wasn't crazy hot, and I feel like a tornado with the amount of energy that I have, so I just dug a big hole, coated it with compost, and stuck that darn thing in the ground. I'm a rock star.

Someone commented on yesterday's post requesting an eBay button for my store. A suggestion is one thing. A request is another. I respond to requests. I ponder suggestions. Just a friendly tip. If you want something from me, I guess the trick is to just ask for it.

I did something yesterday that makes me feel like the best version of myself. If I remember, I'll write about it tomorrow :)

Thrift Share Monday :)

I'm on a total mug kick, inspired by The Recycle-ista and her penchant for finding Starbucks mugs. For whatever reason, I love buying mugs and photographing them and selling them. I love that I get to add a bit of fun to someone's morning coffee or tea (or late night soy milk, my newest fave).

The more I resell, the more I find that I am committed to making the world a better place through reselling used goods. That kinda sounds silly when I read it in my head, but that's why I do it. That's pretty much why I do everything, and I don't always succeed. For example, I dropped the ball and two Heath mugs broke in transit to their buyer this week. The shame! So after sending a full refund, I immediately went on eBay and bought some pre-owned bubble wrap (unpopped bubbles though, so no worries).

It is not okay that my shipping record is less than perfect. But, unfortunately, my failure in packaging can easily be tied to my emotional handicaps. I don't always protect myself sufficiently. I pack with newspaper when bubble wrap is needed.

 

On a lighter note, I am having new ideas! I want to reform the underground housecleaning community to become more marketable, for their own financial benefit, by using all-natural products. I want to put outdoor shades outside my single pane windows so my apartment isn't so hot this summer. I want to create some wort of workstation for packing and shipping so my apartment isn't so crazy-making. Summer is coming, and I'm excited!

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

I make a bad first impression.

I am in a rut today. I got some feedback from an eBay customer that was not very favorable, and I'm taking it to heart, but for a good reason.

I'm wondering if I need to pay more attention to the way I package my items. Honestly, I don't really think about the way it looks as much as I do about the safety of the item. "Is it going to break?"-that's the only question I ask. Who cares if it doesn't look pretty? I'm not trying to win a shipping beauty contest. But then I started thinking, what if the customer really is always right, and that I should make a bigger deal about shipping?

I guess "The Recycling Ethic" means that I use what's available. I see it as a pioneer activity. I'm not just trying to run a a business-this is a way of life for me, and I want to reflect that in the way I operate. Unfortunately, I think that this looks like laziness to people who only have a single interaction with me.

So that's where I'm at. I am challenged, and I think that this interaction has given me an opportunity to grow. It's uncomfortable, as always. And I have to mediate the self-hatred with the desire for growth, which is quite the balancing act.

If you have any pointers, I'd sure love to hear them. Also, if you have any ideas about how I can be frugal, thrifty, not wasteful, and at the same time aethetically pleasing, that would be awesome.

"Stay classy, San Diego."

A trip to the dark side

The Black Swan :)

I just read a crazy story (Note: It's about serial killers and mass graves, so go away if you're not in a good place to handle this). It takes place in my area of the world, so it appeals to me. These days, I am rarely able to handle this kind of crazy. The work I do makes it very difficult for me to cope with bad stuff that is in no way connected to me and my life. But this story gave me hope.

I have lived my whole life in the great state of California (minus a few months here and there). One becomes accustomed to the billboards on the side of I-5 advertising missing persons, some for ten years and more. These signs are so sad. There are whole families behind those signs, waiting and hoping for answers. Parents ask, "What happened to our daughter?" They grieve without end, because there is no end to the mystery. And then some crazy guy in San Quentin decides to open his mouth, and spill his guts. It may be manipulation. It may be for money. It may be honest guilt. I don't know, but no matter why it's happening, it's good.

Families are getting answers. Think of all the suffering that is going to end in this search. They will never stop grieving, but the suffering that comes with not knowing will end. It makes me so happy. It makes my eyes well up. It makes my heart feel full. Some of the fog may be lifted (oh, I hope they'll test all the remains ASAP), after decades of not knowing what happened.

Bootstraps, anyone?

 

This story kills me.

People offer us love, and we deny it. People offer us help, aid, and we throw it away, saying we'd rather find it ourselves. I have an image of a toddler in my head, practicing the art of independence-"Do it myself!"

There's a TED talk on vulnerability I'd like to watch today and perhaps respond to tomorrow.

Sometimes I say "yes", when I want to say "no", not because "no" is the right answer, but because I know that I am resisting the love of another person, wanting to avoid attachment. Sometimes we need to accept the love that is offered to us, even if it comes in a form that is unpleasant (e.g. I give my neighbors meat even though I don't believe I should; I buy Hershey chocolate because the man that put up my shelves asked for it, even though I believe that they practice slavery). Sometimes I think we need to take more time to make decisions. Sometimes those decisions will end up bringing us closer together.

And we need eachother. Life is tough, remember?

Saving trash

 

There is a big shredder in [one of] my office[s]. Yesterday, I was trying to figure out how to get inside of it to get to the gold-filled middle, also known as "piles upon piles of raw material". There was no opening, no lock. I looked for a minute, then gave up. It wasn't something I was really wanting, but I thought it would be cool if I could take some home every once in a while.

One of my coworkers asked what I was doing (naturally). I said, "I love shredded paper". She replied, "You're kidding, right?"

"Nope", said I.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because it's awesome. You can put it in your compost pile. You can use it in packages. I just love it."

She stared at me for a good fifteen seconds without saying anything, and I stared right back. I was not ashamed, and I wasn't going to feel the shame that she was sending my way. But I couldn't waver in my own mind, not for her sake, but for mine. In order to truly love myself, I had to own what it is that I love, even something so small and seemingly insignificant.

Because seriously? When I get up in the morning, it isn't to make money (It's pretty obvious I'm never going to make much anyhow). It's to save trash.

I love trash, and I'm okay with it. Boo-yah.

A thrifty Thanksgiving :)

Ways to be thrifty this Thanksgiving:

1. Cook the turkey carcass and make soup stock (no-brainer)
2. Use real plates (dishwashing time is my favorite)
3. Play lots of non-electronic games
4. Have deep conversations with people you have shallow relationships with
5. Dance or walk after dinner
6. Compliment everyone's cooking (no matter what)
7. Bring something to share, even if it's small
8. Talk to someone you avoid every year
9. Find new things to be grateful for
10. Be yourself. Sometimes in the midst of old patterns, we switch to old personas. Be you, the adult you. Inject newness into old relationships. Don't fall back on old patterns.

I hope your Thanksgiving is warm and enjoyable. I know mine will be.

A Magical Moment

 

I just ate three pieces of pie. They were tiny pieces, but there were three of them. I enjoyed every bite. They were delicious. I also ate a big pile of mashed potatoes, and a big pile of stuffing with cranberry dressing. There were a lot of greens on the plate, and I ate them, but they were less exciting. Now I'm so full and tired and happy, I can't think of anything but those three things.

After work today, I went thrifting in search of a coffee mug for a friend. I swear, at two separate stores, the guys behind the counter lit up when I walked in. It was 5 o'clock in the evening, the end of the work day, and they lit up. They wanted to know if they could help me...know what I was looking for...what I was doing for Thanksgiving... What a weird day. I was feeling strangely happy today though. Maybe it was infectious.

Sometimes I just adore thrift store employees. Sometimes they are grumpy as all get out, but sometimes we really connect. I think tonight was one of those magical times.

Another miracle of the evening was that I went to four different stores and only bought one single coffee mug. Nothing else. I didn't even get stuck staring at shoes, which often happens.

Go me!