Crazy AZ

This state is nuts. Every time I turn on the news there is something even more insane happening. Last time I was here they passed some radical crime prevention legislation allowing licensed gun owners to take their guns into restaurants ostensibly to prevent criminals from stealing them while their having dinner. Did I mention all it takes to get a concealed weapons permit in this state is to be over 21, have proof of US citizenship, and not be a convicted felon (though if you are if you get it expunged you're still a viable candidate).

And then there was the time they thought it might be a good idea to find out where illegal immigrants are living and cut their electricity off. Now if that happened in Seattle, it would be bad, but here especially during the last few days of 115 degree heat, it could be fatal. That one didn't go through fortunately, but everyday these crazy conservatives seem to come up with more and more extreme measures to separate "us from them". I just want to remind them that unless they are Native American, many of their ancestors were illegal immigrants too. What shocks me...besides the fact that these lunatics actually keep getting voted into office...is their appalling lack of compassion. Let's cut medical care. If an illegal immigrant gets ill or hurt, they shouldn't be allowed medical treatment....where is the humanity in that? I mean why do people come to this country anyway? Mostly in search of opportunity, to help their families, to earn a decent living, or in some case to escape persecution...sounds kind of like why all those pilgrims came and founded this country in the first place. We are a nation of immigrants.

And now there is SB1070, one of the most bigoted, aggressively anti-immigrant legislation to be passed yet. I skimmed through it (more than I can say for most of the so-called journalist reporting on it) and the gist is that they want to make it "really" illegal for illegal immigrants to reside in AZ. It's redundant to say the least and inhumane on multiple levels. I was happy to hear that before this goes into effect tomorrow, US District Judge Susan Bolton went through and blocked the most egregious parts, not that it will actually change anything as our local law enforcement official have sworn to do whatever they can to persecute illegal immigrants, regardless of what the law says. While it's nice to visit, I can't say I'll be sad to leave this state.

Rachel Maddow as Fake President Obama Addresses the Nation on BP Oil Spill

I woke up this morning to sound of some jackass on NPR saying...well the cap is leaking, but it's nothing we should worry about. I would laugh if it weren't so deeply sad and disturbing. Don't worry? People if you aren't worried then you haven't been paying attention. I can't help but think about that part in An Inconvenient Truth where Al Gore breaks it down and says basically we are basically living out a very bad science experiment where between depleting our natural resources and polluting whatever is left, there is no telling what our lives are going look like...what this planet is going to be able to endure before rebelling against us. When I stop to think about it all, it's quite terrifying. Between the recent earthquakes in Chile and Haiti and the storms and this oil spill that is so epic we should probably coin another term for it like enormous oil disaster, I can't help feel like we are on the verge of some apocalyptic event that will forever change the face of this planet and may just be the happening to extinct us all. I don't want to be a dinosaur.

Obama, I voted for you. I don't regret it. In fact I know you've really done some amazing things, but this time take a note from Rachel Maddow please. Now is not the time for diplomatic bipartisan compromise...it is the time for radical action. I didn't vote for you out of any delusion that you are particularly radical, but hey...desperate times call for desperate measures. Now is the time for some drastic action. Please.

-a concerned citizen

Lost in the Desert

Yesterday I got sun burnt for the second time in my life. I went for a walk at 6:30am. The sun had barely come up. It hadn't even burnt off the clouds yet, but after a walk and a swim, I came home to discover I was peeling. Gross! While I am usually a sun person, I am kind of missing the rain and the lush green of Seattle. Moreover in addition to missing my friends, I miss the familiarity of my city. I've been visiting Tempe several times a year since my mom moved here 3 years ago, but still everyday here is a scavenger hunt.

My mom is recovering well, and she is walking for short periods of time as well as enduring intensive physical therapy that requires her to be in a leg moving machine for at least 6 hours daily, which means she is not able to really leave the house yet. So if we need groceries or if errands need to be run, I have to drive.

I have discovered several things about this area. 1: It's totally flat here and there are no real landmarks to orient me, so at any given moment I have no idea what direction I'm headed in. 2:Everything looks the same. Drive 6 blocks in any direction and I guarantee you will find an intersection with a CVS and a Walgreen's on the corner unless you are in a residential neighborhood which is nothing more than a hive of white walled houses with pink rock lawns. Throw in a few cacti and some citrus fruit bearing trees and that describes the monotonous beauty of Tempe, Phoenix, Mesa, and Chandler, all of which have no discernible boundaries to my knowledge. 3: In order to alleviate any light pollution there are very few street lights, which means night here is actually really dark and very good for obscuring street signs. So when I'm not at home hanging out with my mom, I am probably lost trying not piss everybody off with my ultra slow granny driving.

Each time I go out there trying to find my way, I am reminded that I am not the first, nor the last to come to the desert and get a little disoriented. Kathianne always says Jesus should be the great example, not the great exception and as I think about his 40 days and 40 nights, I am grateful for air conditioning and that finding the Red Robin to get my mom a hamburger has thus far been my most difficult challenge. It could be worse. Maybe it takes getting a little lost to really bring clarity to exactly what it is you're trying to find. That's the hope anyway...

A new knee for my mom

At the hospital again. For a person like me who has never broken a bone or had any kind of surgery (knock on wood) I have spent way too much time at the hospital. This time was different though in that instead of being there with my mom to visit my grandma, I came to hang out with my mom while she gets a new knee.

A few years ago, I was hanging out with my Dad and I asked him when I would feel like an adult. He just laughed and said he'd let me know when it happened to me. Well yesterday was the day. We woke up early and headed to the hospital. Mom checked herself in and did all the stuff you have to do, but then I realized that I would be acting as her power of attorney if anything went wrong. This is the only time since I was little that I kind of wished I had siblings. As they wheeled her away and left me to occupy myself in the waiting room, I had this awful realization that one day it might just be me. People die...it's not exactly a newsflash...but I guess I just hadn't really spent much time thinking about what it would be like to lose my family. Hopefully I won't have to find out anytime soon, but it did make me realize in a new way that I am a grown up now...an adult responsible for my actions, for my life, and for my family.

There is a part of me that thinks this trip is selfish and maybe even foolish. It's certainly not the adult thing to do right? Over and over again I get the backhanded compliment "I wish I could do that? Just pick up and go," most often followed by a list of all the obligations adults have. "I have to pay bills. I can't afford to take that kind of time off from my job. I have to...blah, blah, blah." And on the other end, I have friends sending me job notices. "It takes a long time to get a job. Maybe you should just send out some applications before you go." I get it. I'm usually a very practical person and this is not a practical or rational thing to do...but then again, there is a part of me that just knows I'm on the right track. I don't know what's going to happen. I'm bad a fortune telling. As I sat in that waiting room wondering what was going to happen, I couldn't feel any particular intuition, just that nervous stomach feeling that it could go either way.

The surgery went off flawlessly. I spent the first hour waiting around with a 6 year old named Zoe who insisted on showing me her robotic pink poodle and her mechanical cat that was frozen due to lack of batteries. Then she read me an article from Highlights Magazine about this dolphin who was fitted with an artificial tail after being caught in a tuna trap. It was actually really interesting. Eventually they called her mother in to see whoever they were visiting. Though I learned a lot about dolphins and school and Zoe's neighborhood, I never did find out who they were waiting for. Once left to my own devices I watch a movie until the surgery was over. Afterwards they took my Mom to a private room where she could sleep and watch tv. I joined her and watched another movie on my computer.

She's doing well today, coherent, chatty, and very much alive. She walked from her bed to the hallway with the help of a walker. Even the physical therapist was very impressed by her strength. As for me, I'm just relieved.

Adventures at Casa Colima

While there are many advantages to having Mexican friends: getting to practice Spanish, getting invited to amazing homemade feasts, and of course the fact that Dad's friends are just cool people, the disadvantage is that Mexicans in general seem to have a completely different sense of time...meaning that if the party starts at 4pm and we get there at 6pm, it still might not actually start til 7pm (as was the case last BBQ). Knowing this I was tripping by 10pm when we still hadn't firmed up our salsa plans. I did, however, decide that if they flaked out, I would go anyway.

So around 10:00pm on Saturday night, I got all dolled up and walked down to Casa Colima where there was allegedly going to be a DJ and some salsa music. I made my way to the second floor which I had never been on before. There were tables and chairs bordering a nice sized hardwood dance floor. Against the wall was a dj podium with a man in a suit spinning cumbia.I took a seat at an empty table, joining the 7 other people in the club. Yup. Living in America has made me perpetually early for everything. My CP time is way off. So I ordered a drink. The server brought it to me and opened a tab, and then circled me a few times before coming back and asking me "Are you alone?" I looked from my left to my right before confirming. Yes. I was alone. She kind of laughed awkwardly then rephrase. "No, but did you come here alone?" I nodded. She introduced herself as Marisol. 5 minutes later the people at the next table, a 22 year old black cuban girl named Renee, approached me. "Are you alone?" she asked. By this time I was feeling very self conscious. Yes, I answered. This seemed very upsetting to her, so she invited me to join her at her table where she was sitting with her boyfriend, his brother and the brother's wife.

More people began to trickle in and I noticed 2 things...1) Renee and I were the only non-Mexicans in the room and 2) everyone was arriving like Ark animals 2 by 2. That's right, the only people who weren't in pairs were the servers, the dj, and the waitstaff. Also while there was some salsa being played it was mostly cumbia interspersed with merengue and ranchero which I think of as Mexican polka. The women and I danced a bit in a group, then we sat and people watched.

More people arrived, gentleman dressed like gauchos with their cowboy hats and boots and large belt buckles, ladies in all shapes and sizes stuffed into improbably tight jeans and halter tops. And then the music stopped and the dj announced that in addition to dancing there would be karaoke. One of the beautiful parts about singing karaoke in Japan is the invention of private booths. You and your party which could be any size from 2-100 or more had your own private show, which means you can sing as much as you want and as many times as you want and also, only the people with you can hear it. After about two songs I was wishing these people had booths. I have no love of long yodeling Mexican ballads. The best thing that can be said of it was that after five songs the dj played another set of music, but shortly 1am when the next set of karaoke began, I thanked my table hosts and walked home.

On the walk there were two young white guys standing by the bus stop. I thought briefly about crossing the street to avoid them, as it was about 1:30am, but they seemed harmless enough and what good is having a black belt if you have to be afraid to walk around at night.

"The party's over huh?" One them inquired as I passed by.
"Yup," I responded.
"Walking home alone?" he asked.
"Yup," I said not breaking my stride though inwardly irritated by this wealth of strangers who seem to be taking personal offense to a woman who might want to go out alone.
"You don't have to be," he said. "I'd be happy to walk you home."
"Nope. That won't be necesary," I replied.
"No really. I'd loved to..." he'd persisted.
"Don't make me stab you with my high heels," I answered and with that, made my way home alone without any further issues or conversation.

Really though people, I felt like I was having a Carrie Bradshaw single girl moment. It's much less funny when it's not on tv. Is this what I have to look forward to throughout the rest of my 30s? Something to contemplate...

Not so much nothing in Portland

After the jarring, draining, necessary annoyance that was putting all my stuff into storage and getting out of my apartment, I spent my last few days in Seattle running errands and hanging out with friends. Then Coco and I drove to Portland to visit my Dad.

One of my favorite things about visiting my dad is doing nothing. When I go to visit my Mom...something I will be doing very shortly...it's always good, but it's also always work. I remember coming home from college for the first time. Mom had a list of chores for me to do. Welcome home! Now we can move the couch and flatten that air bubble in the carpet. Yeah. Not that I begrudge her the help. It isn't easy being by yourself. There are definitely lots of household tasks that require extra hands, but when I go to my Dad's house I can laze and so can Coco. I think it's one of the few places either of us can just veg and not feel guilty. The first time Coco spent the weekend at my Dad's I knew she was hooked. He bought her a bottle of 3 olives vodka and several limes and we had an at home happy hour...me with my rum, him with his tanqueray. We didn't really go anywhere. We didn't see the gardens or check out a new club. We barely made it to the bookstore and Target and that was perfect.

Since then we've tried to make it a monthly appointment...just the three of us and a whole lot of nothing. I guess nothing isn't nothing though. On the drive up, Coco and I process. We catch up, talk about our lives past and present. This drive was the same, except that we both knew I wouldn't be driving back with her. That's the hard part. After Shoshana's move to DC, I suppose I understand it better now. It's always easier to be the one leaving. There is a certain amount of momentum and excitement to leaving. The one who stays behind gets stuck with a friend shaped hole where that person used to be. Every time I ride the #5 bus, I catch myself thinking about getting off by Shoshana's house...except she doesn't live there anymore. Or if it's a beautiful day, I think oh I should call her. We can walk to Greenlake, but she's gone. And so even though it was another fun weekend of at home happy hours and tax free shopping there was this bitter-sweetness to it because I understand now as that extra bit of loneliness you feel when one of your everyday friends skips town. It's like Kahlil Gibran wrote many years ago...even though we walk hand and hand on the path to infinite our journey is our own. My personal journey is one that has required quite a bit of leaving. I just hope my friends will understand.

Coco stayed through the 4th which we spent barbecuing with my Dad's new friends and laughing at his failed attempts to communicate in Spanish. It was actually one of our more adventurous outings. We started at one friend's house where we ate a lot of meat tacos, then we took the entire party with us to somebody's cousin's house where there was grilled corn, even more meat, and vodka with blueberry and blackberry filled ice cubes. Someone strung up a piñata for the children. There was music and dancing, tequila and really good tres leches cake. A good time was had by all. I made plans with some of the people there to go dancing the following weekend.

During the week, though Dad had to work and I had to watch the Harry Potter marathon and repack my suitcase compulsively again and again, we did managed to meet up for Happy Hour. I explored the neighborhood, finding 2 yoga studios, 2 nail salons, the Starbucks with free wifi, and a Jewish Community Center with an indoor soccer complex, massage therapy and an olympic sized pool. Didn't get to swim, but did go to yoga a few times. On Friday Dad only had to work in the morning so by noon we were at Casa Colima for a five hour lunch with his new friends. The next day we went down by the river to read and chill, then I went out salsa dancing...see my next post for details on that. The week went by so quickly and then it was time for the next leg of my journey. On to AZ...

Leaving Seattle

Was it almost a year ago already that I was preparing for my first trip to Ghana...buying malaria pills, filling out visa forms, and trying to imagine what it would be like to see for myself this place that had been so pivotal in my mother's life? And when we came back, I knew that it would be my last year working at my beautiful little school, not because I didn't enjoy it, but rather because I already somehow outgrown it. It was a strange way to start the year...a bit like reading the end of a book before the beginning, but there have been a lot of surprises along the way.And as the journey has unfolded, I've realized repeatedly how much I have to learn about how life works and what I'm supposed to be doing on this planet.

This week's big lesson has been how to act with integrity even when you want to punch somebody in the face...not sure I've mastered it, but I didn't punch anybody, so I suppose that's a start. Wednesday was the day of Mz. Blu and my big move. I spent all last week packing boxes and trying to consolidate things worth keeping. While I admit to having lots of books, I don't really think of myself as having a lot of stuff. This myth was disproved as I tried to shove all my belongings in a storage box...some things had to go. But eventually I packed it all up and then helped Mz. Blu get her stuff moved. Then our asshole landlords decided they wanted to see how much of the deposit they could rip us off for. Apparently removing glitter from the porch stairs requires $120. After several arduous hours of moving and cleaning, I had run out of patience. I kind of lost my temper, but I did get my entire deposit back so at least that part is over. Endings never quite go the way I think they will. That's another lesson learned. But throughout it all I have been so grateful for all the support. My community has once again shown me that generosity has no bounds. Especially Mr. Davis who not only helped us through moving hell, but then set up my entire art show, entrusted me with his car and gave me a lovely space to chill in for my remaining day in Seattle.

Though I hadn't really been thinking about this trip as the end of something, it actually is. Seattle is still my home in so many ways...if home is where your couch lives or where you friends are or just where you know which buses go where, but I know that when I come back it won't be the same. I won't be the same and I'm okay with that. So now I'm going to repack my suitcase and head to Portland for part one of the adventure. Stay tuned.