Goddess of Chaos

Lunch with Dave

2009-06-22T18:59:00.000-07:00

On Sunday I was walking along a sidewalk on a busy coastal California city, feeling a little lost. Lately I've found myself reaching down into my soul to look for direction, to understand my place in the world.

I was admiring the beautiful blue sky and lush spring plants when I realized I had been walking in pace with someone else on the wide cement path. I glanced over to see a burly, rough-faced man, dressed all in black, with a Bob Marley cap. His face was round and wrinkled, deep lines carved into his weathered, tanned skin. His eyebrows were wiry, gray and wild, but something about his face seemed kind. Maybe it was his warm brown eyes.

He was carrying a black guitar case held together with brightly colored bungee cords, and an overstuffed, well-worn black backpack.

He didn't seem homeless, but I assumed from his guitar case that he was a street musician, a busker. (I later found out that I was right.)

I wanted to say something to him, to reach out to this stranger walking the same path as myself. But I couldn't think of what to say. I had no motive other than the desire to reach out to a fellow human being who caught my eye. I was genuinely interested in his story.

I turned to face him, smiled, and asked if he knew a good place for lunch. He seemed a little surprised that I was speaking to him, and took several seconds of, "Ummmmm..." before he responded. He threw out a few random restaurant suggestions, but I could tell he was gauging me and giving me the tourist response, trying to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear. (Applebee's is not a local joint, and definitely not 'good.')

I interrupted him and pointedly asked, "Would you like to have lunch with me?" He paused. Suddenly I felt like I had been aggressive and sorta creepy, so I backtracked a little. Here I am, random red-headed chubby tourist harassing local street musician! "It's okay if you don't, but I'm hungry and I could use some company."

"Oh, it's not that, ma'am," he replied. "Its that I just ate lunch, so I'm not hungry."

"Okay then, well, thanks for your help," I said, a little rejected.

"Well, I'd be happy to sit with you, while you eat. I could use some company too."

I smiled. He smiled. I noticed he was missing his lower front teeth, at least four of them.

"My name's Jen." "Nice to meet you, Jen. I'm Dave." "It's nice to meet you, Dave."

We walked to a restaurant nearby that Dave said was nice and always crowded. We ate outside on the patio. The warmth of the Southern California sun tickled my shoulders as I ordered the special and Dave ordered a Bud Light.

We chatted about lots of things. I asked Dave about his music, what he played, how long. It was mostly small talk stuff, but it was nice. Pleasant and warm, just like the weather. Some of the time I wasn't sure if Dave was telling me the truth, making things up, or telling what he thought I might want to hear. But it didn't matter and I didn't care. I was drinking in his stories as he was drinking in his beer. Truth or not, Dave was fascinating.

The conversation points, mostly small details about his life, were all over the place. Dave has lived a long, complicated life. He's kept himself very busy in his years. Some of the details I remember:

Dave lives on a boat that is for now, dry-docked. He pays $385/month to store it, and they let him live there without hassle. He has internet access there (!!!).
He loves living on a boat. "When I turn the key in the door to my home, I can go anywhere. When you live in a house and turn that key, you're trapped the minute you walk inside."
Dave is an ex-Marine and served in Vietnam.
Dave worked to drive an 18-wheeler. It had a sleeper cab and mini-fridge.
Dave worked for BlueCross.
Dave was a studio musician for many years, doing lead guitar and backup guitar for lots of music professionals, mostly in Nashville. He has been playing guitar since he was a kid.
Dave currently likes to play a lot of Red Hot Chili Peppers, Tom Petty and Bob Marley when he performs.
Dave worked for 20 years in computers. He did IT infrastructure in the 80s.
When Dave decides its time for a 'working vacation' he heads down to Mexico in his boat and alternates between cleaning boats in the local marina and setting lobster traps and selling them to the locals for $12 each.
Dave has lived in California, Tennessee, Texas, Quebec and Mexico. He calls himself a California Cowboy.

At one point, when talking about his days driving an 18-wheeler, hauling "anything and everything to anywhere and everywhere," Dave mentioned that job was really hard on his family. He said it was a really hard job regardless, but especially when you've got a wife and kids. As soon as those words escaped his lips, Dave stopped. Then he changed the subject and asked about me.

I was happy to oblige him with my own stories, details about my life, my recent questionings and wonderings. A little part of me was hoping he'd pass on some sage wisdom or offer up some life lesson, but he just listened and asked questions. No judgment, no advice, just listening. It was refreshing, really. We both just opened up and accepted the other without judgment, preconceived notions, or ulterior motive.

Dave is very serious. He didn't laugh or smile much. There was a lingering sadness to his eyes despite their warmth and kindness. There was a lot going on in his mind, and I couldn't tell if he was on the verge of sharing something deep or on the verge of getting up and leaving. Something told me that the second Bud Light helped him make the decision to stay.

I was really tempted to ask him for a photograph, to ask the waitress to take a photo of myself and my new friend, Dave. But I chickened out. I was worried it would make Dave feel like this had all been an experiment or a bet, I worried I would make him feel weird. I didn't have the guts to admit that I just really liked him and wanted to have a photo of him to remember him by. I wish I had done it.

When I left, I gave Dave every bill in my wallet (I didn't actually count, but I think it was about $37). I told him that next time I was in town, I wanted to hear him play. I said that if I had heard him playing, I was sure that's how much I would have given him anyway. He was very thankful and made me promise to find him next time I was in town. I promised. I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

As I walked away from the restaurant, I wondered about Dave and his life. Where was his family now? Were they alive and wondering where he was? Did something tragic happen or did life slowly dissolve into a string of disappointments and eroded relationships? Dave obviously carries regret along with him when he carries his guitar, but though burdened he also seemed to cherish his freedom. Or maybe he just drowns his regret in booze every day so can make it through to the next morning.

The details of Dave's life aren't my concern. Dave and I don't have much in common on the surface, but I felt drawn to him and I am incredibly thankful to have had the chance to sit down and talk to him. It felt nice to step out of my little self-involved, self-assessing world for a few minutes and truly connect with a fellow human being. (And a fascinating one at that!) Sometimes to find the answers we truly need, we have to look deep inside ourselves. And sometimes we have to see that the world is bigger than ourselves, wider, deeper and more complicated. But in the end, we're all just trying to survive, as happily as possible, one day at a time.

From the light in my heart to the light in your heart, where we are both the same, I honor you, Dave. I hope I get to hear your music soon.

L I A M

2009-06-06T10:41:00.000-07:00

My only sibling, my sweet know-it-all brother Tim, and his lovely wife Dorsie had a baby in the middle of the night. I am so happy for them, and thrilled to be an auntie for the first time.

Liam James Smith Brooks is 5lbs, 8oz. He is tiny but perfect. He visibly resembles the perfect blend of my brother (eyes, eyebrows, chin) and my sister-in-law (nose, mouth).

On my drive home from the hospital, the sun was sneaking across the horizon, bringing golden hazy light to a dark grey world. I meditated on the newness of the day and the newness of my little nephew, and I was overwhelmed with a sense of happiness. This world holds such treasures and Liam's got a beautiful fresh start, a life of possibility. The world is entirely open to him, as if its been waiting for billions of years for his tiny footprints in the Earth.

Dawn stretches across an infinite sky as your new arms stretch out for the first time. This beautiful world is yours now, Liam. Welcome.

San Francisco in 30 Hours

2009-06-04T14:44:00.001-07:00

San Francisco was amazing! I am never disappointed in that hilly, picturesque city. Every building seems to have a story, every sidewalk has a history.

I am on an intense journey to self right now. And I went on this trip with the Usual San Francisco Subjects -- Dennis (husband), Sophie (daughter), Heather (cousin), Carol (aunt). It was fun having them around -- they are all very special people who add fun to even mundane situations, so they add triple fun to already-fun situations.

I realize now that my Puerto Rico trip spoiled me. It felt bizarre to have very little personal space in such a vibrant city alive with energy and activity. I am still searching for balance in my life -- I feel like I have multiple personalities and they don't like to spend time with each other.

Adventurous Jennie wanted to reach out to new friends in San Francisco. I wanted to play.

Cultural Jennie wanted to try new foods and push her culinary boundaries. Dungeoness crab is in season!

Compassionate Jennie wanted to invite a new friend to lunch. San Francisco has an astounding homeless population. So many people had scrawled 'hungry' on cardboard scraps and I wanted very much to take one by the hand and invite them to lunch at one of the city's amazing restaurants and get to know my new friend over some sandwiches and an iced coffee.

Crafty Jennie wanted to plop down with her crazy art journal and scrawl poems and thoughts in erratic, inspired handwriting and smear paint onto the inviting white pages.

Observer Jennie wanted to people watch -- sit for hours at a cafe as the shadows lengthened across the crowded streets.

I didn't do any of these things, but I still had a great trip.

I visited the Pier 39 sea lions (twice, at the demand of my 3 year old). I ate a fantastic curry dinner at an Irish pub (you read that right). I tried an Italian pastry that was really just an overpriced (but tasty!) donut hole. I had a fascinating conversation with a Mexican man living in Daly City (not much English was spoken, but his hands were very soft and he had incredibly kind, youthful eyes). I lost myself momentarily on an overcrowded trolley car and got squished by the impatient rush-hour doors. Heather led us on a fun adventure to nowhere that met a few dead ends and landed us at the steps of Coit Tower, at the top of Telegraph Hill (we started in Fisherman's Wharf at sea level). I sat on the beach at the edge of choppy, chilly San Francisco Bay and watched my daughter strip her clothes off and jump into the Pacific ocean with wreckless abandon.

For a 30 hour budget trip, it was fantastic.

San Francisco

2009-06-02T00:36:00.000-07:00

Off for a short visit to San Francisco, the city that serves as my muse, my inspiration, my idealized, overcast love.

Puerto Rico

2009-05-12T14:21:00.001-07:00

Leaving for Puerto Rico tomorrow night, red eye flight through JFK onto San Juan.

Never been before. Totally out of my comfort zone (I like it chilly). Sleeping on my friend's couch. Haven't seen my friend in two years. I don't speak Spanish. I *just* learned to drive stick shift, so I can borrow Sorren's car while she's at work. I'm not a beach person, I don't tan well (I burn). I'm not exactly a sexy swimsuit model (I'm a chubby gal).

But I love to travel, am used to traveling on my own (since I was young), and am eager for new experiences and new perspectives on life. I can't wait to step out of my comfort zone, which has started to feel like a pack of ice I've been using to numb myself for years.

Follow my tweets while I am gone - http://twitter.com/jkalea and look for new posts upon my return, May 20.

Puerto Rico, here I come.

Layers

2009-05-12T12:06:00.000-07:00

So I'm on a path of self-discovery.

Truthfully, I have come to terms with the fact that I have been headed in the wrong direction for a long time. But the 'right' direction was easy, convenient, and no one got hurt. Except maybe me, but as a codependent its certainly easy to put myself at the bottom of the list. As long as everyone else is happy, why would I complain?

Especially when on the outside, every single person who views your life would see a long list of beautiful, desirable things that most people don't have, and would be jealous or at least not understand how you could not adore every second of this life. To name a few:

Attractive husband
Healthy and spirited daughter
Ability to stay at home with said daughter
Owns nice home with pool and remodeled kitchen
Runs successful, creative online business
Loving, supportive family

WOW! I'm so lucky! How could I ever *NOT* be happy!?!

But when you end up on the wrong end of a suicide hotline on a seemingly normal Friday afternoon, it's time to take a look at your life and stop putting yourself on the bottom of the list.

So here I am -- reexamining everything. I've stopped being Jen, the one you know. I'm still Jen, I've always been Jen in some way...but instead of 30% Jen or 10% Jen, I'm trying to get to 100% Jen. All Jen, all the time.

But some people might not like it. I am going to make people uncomfortable. Some people might recoil and might not like the path I am taking, the parts of me I am choosing to explore and bring out into the light. But these parts were always there. Always. Only now I have stopped apologizing for them, I am owning them, I am loving them and I am putting it all out there.

This is me. I am trying to break away from shielding parts of me that people might find objectionable. I have always sought acceptance and love from everyone I meet, but it was making me love myself less because I wasn't being true to ME, I was adapting myself to seem likable or sweet, to get love from other people.

But now I'm on this path, I'm so excited that I can finally find me! I don't know everything about myself, and I'd like to find out as much as possible.

The world seems so much more open to me right now. I'm finally bearing my heart to the Universe, and I'm finally open to everything the Universe has to give.

Give

2008-12-16T19:48:00.000-08:00

Giving gifts is one of my favorite activities. I love shopping for others and finding the perfect gift for each person.

This year, however, I've had a hard time finding the Christmas spirit and buying gifts seems like just another tedious chore. Stress and depression have played games with my mind, and my holiday cheer didn't get unpacked with the shiny baubles and twinkling lights.

My daughter Sophie is now at an age where she is just started to 'get' Christmas. Some of the concepts (Santa Claus, elves, gingerbread houses -- thanks, Bronwen!) are finally sticking to her little brain and its been a joy watching her retell her interpretation of Christmas lore - It snows! Daddy, you be reindeer, I be Santa, I ride on your back! Elves build toys!

Weeks ago she found an item in a catalog that she wanted. We told her maybe she could ask Santa and Santa could bring it for her for Christmas. She replied, "Or...how about Nana?" Boy does she know her stuff!

Despite Sophie's sweet childlike enthusiasm, emotionally I've been struggling to get excited about Christmas. I feel like I've been going through the motions but not actually feeling the Christmas joy. Until today.

Today we dropped off several toys at our local fire station, to be given to needy children. On the drive over I explained to Sophie that some children don't get presents for Christmas because their families have no money. She silently absorbed this. "These toys will be taken by the firefighters to give to poor children. They will make a little boy or girl very happy on Christmas." Silence.

We walked hand-in-hand to the station, into the office and up to the donation box. I showed her the contents of the bag I was carrying: three Littlest Pet Shop sets and a Lightning McQueen pillow. "That's for Jud!" Sophie exclaimed.

Sophie had picked all four toys on a previous shopping trip. Three things that a little girl like her would like, and one toy for Judson, Sophie's friend who died last year. He would have been four years old on Christmas Eve this year. We watch videos of Judson regularly, and Sophie usually associates anything with the Cars movie or Lightning McQueen as "Jud's favorite." She hand-picked that pillow for him a month before: she saw it and I told her we could donate in his memory at Christmas.

Her excitement at donating this special toy sent a tingle through me all the way to my bones. She was pure joy as she held that toy and placed it in the box.

She didn't say much until we were half way back to the car. "Little boy be so happy! He say, 'Thank you Judson for the car!' And Judson say, 'You're welcome!'"

Christmas spirit exploded in me like fireworks.

Mr. Lizard

2008-07-17T22:30:00.000-07:00

Mr. Lizard came to visit today!

I had tossed a hat and a swimsuit cover-up in the hallway outside Sophie's room during her nap. When she woke up and I picked up the clothes to put them away, I was surprised to see an alligator lizard on the carpet, hiding under the clothes.

It's pretty random and bizarre to find him in the middle of our house. Two of our three cats are incredibly skilled hunters, and though the cats are indoors-only, they have access to a garage...a garage which has a 1.5" gap between the door and the concrete. We've had all sorts of critters wander into our garage for warmth or shelter, only to discover a four-legged killer with sharp claws waiting for them.

Regardless of how he arrived inside, I knew he needed to be back outside and decided to make a fun nature lesson out of the adventure. We named him Mr. Lizard and set about getting him back to nature.
Mr. Lizard was easily scooped up with a plastic cup (alligator lizards are quite fearless and very bold). He was a very obliging and posed for several shots while held captive in the cup.

Once we put the cup down, offering him release into the enticing ice plant blossoming with hot pink flowers, he didn't seem too interested. He mostly stayed put and stared at us as if to say, "Why did you bring me out here where its hot and dirty? I liked it inside -- it was cool like the rock under which I was born, and you guys have good food and cable TV."

So we tapped the cup a little to encourage him to move along. He paused for just a few more shots, ever indifferent to the huge Nikon lens shoved just two inches away from his cute little lizard-y face, then slipped into the ice plant.

Sophie never once seemed too shocked about having a lizard in our hallway, as if zebras, lizards and lorikeets just happen through our house all the time. She was happy to help relocate Mr. Lizard and I was quite proud that I had offered my daughter a valuable lesson in kindness towards animals and respect for all life.

The swelling balloon of pride in my chest was quickly deflated five minutes later when Sophie demanded, "I want more lizard, Mommy!" "Mr. Lizard has to live outside, Sophie." "NO MOMMY! NO OUTSIDE! I want more Mr. Lizard in my hallway!" then dissolved into tears and crumpled on the floor.

Cookie Woobie

2008-06-17T19:35:00.001-07:00

Sophie received a delectible yet calorie-free treat in the mail today: a cookie. Not really a cookie, but a woobie (blanket) in the shape of a cookie. It has got to be one of the most brilliant things ever created with fabric and a sewing machine.

The sweet and skilled Tobie of LuLusWoobies made the cookie just for Sophie. Tobie is the owner of the talented hands that created Sophie's beloved "B" -- the woobie that I commissioned to replace the dreaded red Christmas blanket that Sophie became attached to at 8 months. It was cute until January rolled around. In the sparkling bright light of a new year, the red "Baby's 1st Christmas" blanket, soft and snuggly though it was, became a bit of an eyesore (to me at least).

Tobie made a woobie for Sophie that resembled the Christmas blankie on one side (red minky with red satin binding) but with a very chic and sophisticated sakura blossom cotton print on the other side. It was 100% gorgeous the day it arrived in the mail and still is today.

I was smart enough to ask that Tobie make me two "little B" blankets, which were intended to serve as 'backup' blankies that could be stashed in the crib or car or purse and whipped out at a moment's meltdown. Well now "Big B" mostly lives in the crib and is needed for any and all sleeping/napping. "Little B" is the must-have accessory that gets dragged everywhere with us. I try to keep Other Little B in my purse or stuffed under the car seat out of view.

Invariably I have at least one (if not three or four) incidents per week where we are out of the house and some sort of tragedy befalls my sweet Sophie (scraping her knee, not getting the candy she is demanding in the checkout aisle, being forced to move on from the cheap jewelry section in Target after only 12 minutes of molesting the plastic beads and sparkling rhinestones). The first audible word uttered from her squeaky, warbling throat is usually "B!" Said with such sad, sorrowful insistence that it is hard not to pity this poor, tiny creature whose only desire in the whole complicated world is to snuggle a 14" square of cotton, polyester and satin. Having an extra "B" stashed in these situations has saved my sanity on dozens of occasions.

Only time will tell if "Cookie Woobie" will rise to this level of worship and comfort. But I told Sophie that if she doesn't give appropriate loving to this fantastic woobie, that I might claim it as my own and start throwing fits and demanding "Cookie Woobie-eeeeeeeee!" in a trembling voice when my morning latte isn't made right, when Photoshop crashes and I lose my work or when Target has run out of the toilet paper on sale that week.

Serious Fun

2008-06-16T09:27:00.000-07:00

Sunshine and happiness.

My true delight and constant source of amusement is my little girl, Sophie. The best word to describe her is fun. Seriously fun. Okay, also spirited and tenacious and demanding, but most often and most importantly, fun.

She is stringing words together more and more often. Often in surprising and unexpected phrases.This week, my favorite sentences are:

"What happened now, Mommy?"
"Stop eating my food!"
"Take care!" (said to Daddy before he left for work)
"I love you with all my heart!"
"And a cow too. One, two, three, four, five cows!"

My favorite activity to do with Sophie is the Chase'n'Tickle. She goes and 'hides' somewhere ridiculously obvious (and giggles whenever I get close, always giving up her hiding spot even on the rare occasions when she finds somewhere to actually hide), and when I find her I tickle her senseless (best spots: neck, ribs, thighs). She giggles with a high-pitched gasp and squeaky cackle, then quickly declares, "Stop Mommy!" She runs off as soon as I release my grasp, and as soon as she gets a slight head start, yells, "More! More hiding!" and on it goes.

Sometimes, however, in our chasing and tickling, she will find a small animal-shaped plastic toy or fascinating piece of fuzz on the floor. Suddenly the game is over and her focus has shifted. If I catch up and try to tickle her, the magic is gone and suddenly she is made of stone. Tickles do nothing, and Mommy is but a gnat buzzing in her ear, a nagging distraction. The new object of interest is all that matters; everything else disappears.

From hysterically funny to dead serious in 0.6 seconds. Serious fun. Such is my Sophie.

Look at that blade of grass!

Sushi, Baby!

2008-02-29T14:59:00.000-08:00

Who says babies don't like sushi? Okay, well even if babies don't like sushi, their stylish parents can at least appreciate the modern hipness of this posh baby shower gift.

Sushi for Baby (TM) // Girl // Diaper Sushi (TM) by jkalea