craftgirl in progress

After searching through different projects at craftster.org, I settled with my first craft project ever: the record bowl.

I preheated the oven to 200 degrees then I placed my dusty copy of "Mame" (featuring a young Angela Lansbury) on an overturned bowl which was on a cookie sheet so I could take it in and out of the oven easily. I slid it all into the oven and after five minutes, I took it out, flipped the bowl and record over and used the large bowl as a mold for the record bowl. The record was warm and soft as I pushed down, but hardened quickly so I popped it in again. Another try and it was perfect.

My apologies to any Angela Lansbury fans.

booty-shaking time

If you have nothing better to do, watch me change. I would rather rock out Napoleon Dynamite-style though. Sweet.

LJ!

Lauren Jackson
Originally uploaded by kirida.

At the Storm season ticket holder soiree, Lauren Jackson signed my basketball. I don't know who the kid is, but she's cute, no?

aftermath

I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop, letting my hair air-dry and finally getting some work done.

"It was all very well to say, 'Drink me,' but the wise little Alice was not going to do that in a hurry. 'No, I'll look first,' she said, 'and see whether it's marked 'poison' or not': for she had read several nice little stories about children who had got burnt, and eaten up by wild beasts and other unpleasant things, all because they would not remember the simple rules their friends had taught them: such as, that a red-hot poker will burn you if you hold it too long; and that, if you cut your finger very deeply with a knife, it usually bleeds; and she had never forgotten that, if you drink much from a bottle marked 'poison,' it is almost certain to disagree with you, sooner or later.

I feel like Alice. Instead of "poison," my bottles are marked "drama," but what do I do? Smile, lift the glass, and say, "Bottoms up."

---

"But I'm not a serpent, I tell you!" said Alice. "I'm a --I'm a---"

"Well! What are you?" said the Pigeon. "I can see you're trying to invent something!"

"I--I'm a little girl," said Alice, rather doubtfully, as she remembered the number of changes she had gone through, that day.

Today, I feel less like a girl and more like a serpent. Time to stick out my pink forked-tongue and slither.

Copy, Right?

Copy, Right? is my source of happiness today.

lost in translation

I think I've figured out the birds living in the tree in front of my car. I think their conversations go something like this:

Bird #1: Okay, Mona's on her way home from the car wash.
Bird #2: Are you thinking what I'm thinking?
Bird #1: No one take a crap until her car's in front of us.
Bird #2: I can hold it. Can you?
Bird #1: (indecipherable chirping)

Eight-thousand lesbians gasped

At the only other Storm game I attended, Mike proposed to me in one of those time-out games. Long-story, short: I was there mid-court, blindfolded and chasing that fuzzy mammoth-mascot Doppler, caught him (read: walked into his soft body) and when they took off the blindfold, there was Mike, on his knee with a ring. So I wasn't really paying attention to the game after that and I certainly wasn't paying attention to the audience (aside from the ones congratulating me and asking to see the ring).

So when my boss offered to take me to the Seattle Storm game last night because her friend flaked out on her, I happily agreed. When we got there, I realized one stereotype I've heard about Storm is actually true: there are a lot of lesbians in attendance. My boss gave me that disclaimer: the seats were great, but also situated in a estrogen-heavy zone. After Mike proposed to me, he called in KJR, the sports radio station, and told them the story and added the line that when he got on his knees, "Eight-thousand lesbians gasped." I've always frowned at that because it's funny, but wrong.

But it's true. At least it was in our section.

Not only is it true, that game was like the United Colors of Benetton for lesbians. There were lesbians of all ages, races, and hair lengths. The ladies behind us kept rating the bodies of the players, particularly the blond from New York who when she bent down received comments like, "Oh, she's bending over, take a picture!"

Oh, but you should have seen me. You would have been proud at the calls I made, or rather hollered with a deep-gutteral intensity. I screamed in a bloody-murder way, "CHANGE THE REFS!" and when Janelle was giving her post-game interview and said she was just trying to get the ball, there was a pause which I quickly filled in with, "Yeah, you get that ball Janelle!" My boss turned to me and said, "I like going to games with you!"



And it's good.

sunset

sunset
Originally uploaded by myimaginarylife.

I miss home (sometimes).

in a furious effort to prolong real work

I had been drinking when I took this picture. I didn't realize at first that it was one of those hot dog warmers, so when I saw Polish on one side and Regular on the other, I thought (in a very inebriated fight against injustice), "WTF? What do they have against the Polish?"

trying-to-type-as-fast-as-I-can

In my dream, I was planning and executing a wedding in one day. Nothing was prepared, aside from the dress. We were on Saipan, but not. There was the beach, the place where my sister had her reception, but somehow situated in Washington. I was freaking out because I was scared that no one was going to show up on short notice. So I called Odawni and told her I was getting married that day and asked if she needed a ride. She asked me if I was having it at the HUB and I said no, but I didn't know where. I was thinking that maybe someone could be in charge of figuring out the reception while the wedding was taking place. But who would be taking reservations for 20 (strange I thought of that number) that day?

Yesterday Mike and I went to the West Seattle Junction fair, and on the way, we saw the downtown view and a wedding. I wanted to take more pictures, but I enjoyed the scene instead.

which victorian stereotype are you?

You scored as The Artiste. You like cafes you can't afford and clothes you don't wash. You love to "epater la bourgouisie" You'll show everyone someday- your parents, the academy, that whore who turned you down on the street... Now, if only you could afford socks.

thai food

thai food
Originally uploaded by kirida.

Thai food reaches a new level of awesomeness.

I've never read any of the books. So there.

No, I didn't go to a Harry Potter book party nor did I wait for two hours outside the Barnes and Noble. I did get a laugh out of this movie of a guy who ruins it for everyone. Then there's this site, which I think should be, "On hearing..." And this gets a laugh because Benny Hill is also a crazy Brit.

And dance to this, just for the hell of it.

Oh you silly academics.

Not recent, but relevant.

"Marginalia blurred distinctions between writer, reader and critic. Passed from one reader to another, the margins and flypapers of some books became a sort of message board for this unique form of intellectual graffiti, with brief accolades, argumentative asides, addenda and insults. Even the greatest writers could be deflated with a sharp jab from the margins. An anonymous reader who rebelled against Samuel Johnson�s description of the weather as 'gloomy, frigid and ungenial' scrawled in exasperation: 'Why can�t you say Cold like the rest of ye world?' Quite."

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/article/0,,1068-1398459,00.html

jack and coke neat, por favor

Last night, Mike, Amy and I had drinks at a bar in Ballard.


Later on Alki, we spotted families and couples.










More here

My big mouth

Yesterday, I was giving a ride to some girls from work. The really sweet teenage one asked, "Oh, you're from Saipan? Do you know a guy named Brian?"

I said, "Oh Brian? Yeah I know Brian!" though I didn't know who the hell he was because I don't keep tabs on every Saipan transplant living in Seattle.

All of a sudden I heard her say, "Hi Brian, do you know a girl named MONA?" There was a pause and then she persisted, "MONA, her name is MONA..."

I wanted to stop and tell her that it was a joke (granted, not a very good one), but it was good fun. I have to be more careful, some people can't tell if I'm serious or not. Sometimes my sarcastic humor is obvious, like when someone asks me what perfume I'm wearing, I usually say, "Calvin Klein's Escape for Women. It's back from my days in juvie." The other day, we were doing interviews and when the student who interviewed me presented what he wrote, he said, "Her name is Mona. She likes reading, writing and street-racing."

I must learn how to hold my tongue.

fever to tell.

I had two nightmares. In the first one, I lost two teeth which left weird, shifting patterns in my mouth. I think this has something to do with my wisdom teeth coming in (strangely enough, I don't feel smarter). The second one was a strange Memento-style sequence, where I am kidnapped, but calm, dressed in a black cocktail dress as if I am one of those trophy wives in first-class. Then I see how I got kidnapped: I was cornered by a large man and when I tried to escape, two others popped up, lassoed me and stuffed me in a dumpster bound for the Puget Sound. I think this is about my obsession with threes and it being manifested in my paper. In Alice and Wonderland, there are strange occurences with three: the Executioner, the Queen, and the King argue that they can't behead the Chesire Cat unless he has more than a head to cut off and the Queen invokes her favorite order: Off with [his/her/everyone's] head!

But maybe it's not that complicated, that the real solution is to stop falling asleep with the television on.

how do I talk to you now that I've seen you naked?

I saw a classmate of mine on an alternative-porn website. She's talked about it before, but I had never ventured to look. So when I saw her on my screen, made-up and nude, I felt almost pervy, because she didn't really invite me to see it and I don't know how to compliment someone's nakedness.

This makes me think of one of my first times at a gym. I walked into the men's locker room and immediately saw one of the personal trainers and all his man-business. I gasped and ran out. Later, I tried to duck out of the building, so I wouldn't see him on my way out, but he was in the hallway and there was no other choice but to proceed into the awkwardness. He smiled at me and said, "You probably don't recognize me. I look different with my clothes on."

the obligatory cat post

Some days I think I think my cat's crazy. On other days, I think she's mildly autistic. Today I found my cat drinking from the toilet. The other week, I had to shoo her away from the flowers she tried to eat.




She maims the vertical blind.


She's ultra-paranoid.


She looks at me as if I'm weird.


And she's off.

I let my frailty take the wheel

Yesterday, Mike and I drove to where the other half lives--in Bellevue. My friend Cheryl was hosting her going away party at her country club in a neighborhood where every house rose over perfect lawns, three-car garages, and timed sprinkler systems. I brought my camera, but forgot to put the memory card back in, so there are no photos. When she returns from Japan in a couple of years, maybe we'll meet somewhere more low-key. That is, if she remembers me.

Till then, I'm going to listen to Hot Hot Heat, teach sixteen-year olds, and enjoy this transitory place called the slow lane.

this should be some feminist magazine cover

anna-beth, knife and cake

At the young adult lit. club meeting, I felt so lame. I brought sushi from costco and Anna-Beth brought this heavenly raspberry cake that was not only made from scratch, the raspberries were from her garden. If I could have a sliver of her coolness, I think I would be okay. It was a lot of fun and I enjoyed the company and conversation. When I left, I spent about thirty minutes getting lost in North Seattle and thought of cool/smart/witty/funny things I should have said.

Story of my life.

a pbs for kids postcard from my niece

To: Mona
From: brianna
Message:

:);0 i love you boo iwent to the zoo good by

I heart Francesa Lia Block

"He sent Weetzie postcards with pictures of the Empire State Building or reproductions of paintings from the Metropolitan Museum, Statue of Liberty key chains, and plastic heart jewelry. He wanted Weetzie to move back east but Brandy-Lynn wouldn't hear of it. And although Weetzie adored her father, who reminded her of a cigarette, of Valentino, of a prince with palm trees on his shoulders, shouldn't couldn't leave where it was hot and cool, glam and slam, rich and trashy, devils and angels, Los Angeles."

-Weetzie Bat, Francesca Lia Block.

aging

I think I am either going deaf or everyone around me mumbles. I hold my hand behind one ear, the international symbol for "What was that?" and say, "I'm sorry," but what I really mean is, "I'm sorry, but would you quit talking with your hand in front of your mouth."

self-portrait

While waiting for my six-inch veggie delight, I took this of me in the subway cam.

overheard

On hearing Ciara's "Oh."

Student 1: How do you make speakers bleed?
Student 2: Dude, it's metaphorical.

almost like a movie

Yesterday, in the young adult section of the book store, I stood in the doorway-sized aisle next to an old man donning a tweed cap. He held up The Wizard of Oz, and said, "Trivia question: what color were Dorothy's shoes?"

"I'm guessing they weren't red."

He said in a campfire-story tone, "No, they were silver." Delighting in his trivia-prowess, he chuckled, "Yeah, they changed it for the movie!"

I smiled, turned back to the shelf and he walked away. Perhaps that was the only question he knew and I just happened to be his strategic positioned audience. I thought of Shakespeare's sagacious characters who just pop into the scene to impart advice or disseminate information and exit just as quickly as they arrived.

"The little foolery that wise men have makes a great show."
As You Like It (1.2.50)

I could be a sportswriter

What would my title be? "Brett Boo-hoone"

gender difference?

Does the prescence of an engagement ring disable men from talking to women, or are men oblivious to that? What I'm really trying to say is that I was hit on today; flattering, but unexpected. No makeup, hair in a damp, sloppy updo, and ring visibly displayed on my left finger. And still!

Back to the wonderland.

fireworked.

It sounds like Armaggeddon's going on outside. To work around the apartment complex's eviction threat for setting off any fireworks on the property, all the children have gathered just beyond the gates to play with colored mini-rockets. All this is right outside my window.

21 things

1. The best accent I can pull off is British.
2. My favorite drink is a Jack and Coke, preferrably neat.
3. People/Characters I can successfully imitate: my mother, Robin Leach, Napoleon Dynamite, Eric Cartman.
4. My parents were going to name me Misty for "mistake." I prefer "afterthought."
5. In my bedroom on Saipan, I could hear the cathedral bell ring on the hour.
6. When I was 15, I began my ambition to finish War and Peace. I have only read a sliver since.
7. When I give gifts, they are great and thoughtful.
8. I usually carry more books than I should.
9. I buy a lot of pink, but it's usually an accident.
10. I am the youngest.
11. Because of #10, I am naturally defensive.
12. My mom had my fourth-grade school clothes tailored, but it was basically a one-piece overall-blouse combo in various fugly floral patterns.
13. I sometimes blame my mom for my lack of fashion/arts and crafts sense.
14. My mom would style my hair into two pony-tails. They would be pigtails had placed them on the sides of my head instead of placing them on top of each other so that the back of my head looked like a horse's ass.
15. My sister, by contrast, is a genius with hair, but she's also sadistic. She gave me a French braid that was so tight I had slanted eyes.
16. I watched Unsolved Mysteries with a gusto only tempered by the occassional panic that I would one day become of the cases.
17. I get carsick if I try to read anything more than directions.
18. I was featured as a random profile in the Chronicle of Higher Education back when I was young and didn't know how many people fucking read the Chronicle so my profile reads that I have a (now ex-) boyfriend who's a jerk and I'm waiting to write my great novel. I can just imagine how educators everywhere saw that and my fat face and laughed...
19. I know all the words to the theme of "Fresh Prince of Bel Air."
20. My favorite book in the whole world is The Great Gatsby.
21. I am a bad liar.

spring into summer

The photoshoot went smoothly. Some awkward moments occurred when I had to stand so close to him that I could tell he had shaved that morning. I focused on the hardcover book I was using for a prompt and the photographer asked me to look up because I looked like I was sleeping. So I made chatter about my paper and what the book said about the Victorian family. He admitted he hadn't read many great Russian novels. I told him that I had only read Anna Karenina. He joked that he hadn't read it because it was long and he's a slow reader. It's uncomfortable to look someone directly when you're close enough to check for lice. I hearing something about Chamorros, that from a distance, we'll stare at people with laser-beam intensity, but when we're face-to-face, we look at anything but the person in front of us.

When it was over, he left and I had some individual shots taken. I could see my face on her lens and I remembered that when I was little, my mom told me that my smile looked fake. When I lost my two front baby teeth, my family called "window teeth." My brother sang, "All I Want For Christmas Is My Two-Front Teeth." When I had to get silver caps because of cavities, my sisters told me not to smile because I would break the camera. In retrospect, I must have had an awesome gangsta grill. Cash-money, even.

So I walked to his office to tell him thanks but he wasn't there. I waited for the elevator, reading the names on the doors down the hall. Suddenly I heard, "Hello," and when I turned, I gasped deeply because I was about one step from plowing into my professor and his steaming cup of coffee. I watched the fog lifting up from the styrofoam rim, thinking, "Oh thank God." It must have been startling for him to see me revert to a childlike position with my hands over my face. It all happened quickly enough then we headed toward his office where we talked about the magical charm of photographs.