By Beauty Damned

Psychadelic Scrawl

A Tay'n Da Way

This day has been split in half by two completely different types of weather. This morning, and up until about 3 p.m., it was unbelievably hot and sunny. I walked to the bank and the post office and I was far too warm in the jeans and tanktop that I chose to go out in. Now a turbulent wind has taken over and the skies have gone from blue to white. The skinny branches of the big tree in my back yard are being yanked sideways. Everything is trembling, fluttering and swaying in the storm.

I am living a life of leisure. I feel guilty. I feel like there is some rule that I am violating about a person not being allowed to live without anyone else telling you what to do. I have never been free of people telling me what to do. Not for any extended period of time anyway. This is unprecedented. The only boss of me is me. Does anyone mind if I say that just a little bit louder, since this is my mountain top? THE ONLY BOSS OF ME IS ME.

Yeah, man. That's tight.

I started drawing the tree in my front yard a couple days ago. It's coming along. That's the kind of time I have on my hands. Drawing a tree takes more patience than one might think.

I drew this when I was in Pacifica in January:

Disclaimer: I did not quit my day job to be a visual artist, in case you were concerned.

The joy among grief and the grief among joy

For Joshua and Beauty
She said
As she fired a shot into the sky

-Maria Carreón

Ivette

You stood strong
As an angel
All wing and gossamer

You held so many secrets
Like golden coins
Stashing them away safely

Black eyes
Porcelain skin
Long white limbs

Sitting at the foot of your coffin
Your voice brushing my ears
A soft wind

Linen stained by inky tears and red lipstick
That I wore joyfully
For the truth

You died with my secret
And my secret
Died with you

-Maria Carreón

We Heart You, MN

It's my last week of school! Tomorrow I will have officially finished my freshman year of college. That's still taking its time sinking in. A year ago I was still worrying that I wouldn't enjoy it or I might just be wasting money or that there would be no way to balance working in an office. It feels like a hundred years ago now. I would not trade the experiences of the past year for anything short of getting my brother back. (For that, I would obviously trade every limb I've got.)

The thing I love the most about life, and being able to look back at its progress, is that tingly feeling I get while realizing that I never would have believed where I could end up as a result of all of my focused self discovery and a kind of zealous pursuit of satisfaction. It gives me this sure feeling that if I have come this far by following my instincts, I have to have faith that my future is good. I wish that this academic exuberance did not have to be marred by all of the tragedy and heartbreak of the past year (+). It makes it hard to be happy without guilt or simply being reminded of the weight of loss. Amazing how an absence can seem heavier than a fulfillment. It defies logic, but so does everything about the experience of death.

I spent four days in Minneapolis last week while my sister underwent an intense cardiovascular surgery. I was not feeling light as a feather then. I was feeling apprehensive. But I got to spend a lot of time with my sister and my papa, even if so much of it was in a hospital room. It was a very nice hospital, as far as those things go. And the nurses were some of the most compassionate, patient people I've ever encountered. Limitlessly patient. I highly recommend Minneapolis University Medical Center for matters of the Heart. I cannot imagine what it could have been like without the kind of expertise that they have on hand there. Plus, the food was not bad at all and my sister's room was light and warm, despite all the awful tubes and machines and persistent beeping noises. Despite the fact that we had to be there at all given the circumstances.

I liked that town though. My dad and I walked daily back and forth from the hotel to the hospital, and I got such a good feeling in Minneapolis. I couldn't put my finger on what it was. I didn't want to move there or anything, but I could understand how it would be a nice place to live. There were plenty of decent places to eat and get a good beer or an unrestrained cocktail. I hated it a lot less than I hate most places I've visited in the Midwest. (Sorry, but it's just true!)

So...good on ya' Minnesota! (Or whatever it is you folks say.) Thanks for taking care of the Carreons. My sister is going to be much better now.

Good Old Days

This was my brother, Joshua, with Jenni on his left and Kate on his right. He had the most infectious laugh (Sierra and Beau are looking on in the background):

And just for fun, from a similar time period (mid-90s), some Teenage Trouble, left to right, Jenni, Katrina and Me (back when my hair was black!). I love these girls to pieces:

Thanks for the pictures, Darcie!

Best in Life

I shouldn't still be up at this hour. It's after 3 a.m., but I just hung up the phone after a two hour conversation with Darcie which involved a couple of dropped calls, three low phone batteries and more laughs than I could count.

Have I ever told you how amazing Darcie is? Well, she'd be embarrassed if I went on and told you here, listing off all of the many reasons why she is one of my best friends in the whole world, and besides that, why she's one of the most impressive and fabulous women I've ever known. It might seem a little too much if I said that no one, and I mean NO ONE, makes me laugh like she does (except maybe for Jenni who knows right where my funnybone is and is always rubbing up against it).

Do you know them? God they are good. These girls. My friends. The ones who have been there for me consistently, whenever I call on them, whenever I need them. The ones who have been right there waiting year after year for me to come home and visit, going out of their way to come here to NY and visit me, always answering my emails and calling me on the phone and being there to make me laugh at times when I've thought I might never laugh again. These lovely girls.

Who else can I talk to about how much our hometown damaged us or about all the funny characters that still stick out in our minds from back in the day or about any inane fucking thing that enters our heads? Well, I have this blog of course...haha.

Do you ever think it is strange for me to come on this computer and just ramble on about whatever I feel like, not knowing whether or not anyone cares? I'm not sure anymore if I even do it for anyone else or if I just do it because it feels good to get these thoughts outside of myself and into the world where they can hang out and look pretty or ugly, or whatever it is that my words look like when they just hang out on a webpage in this vast universe of webpages.

It's like putting clothes out to dry.

Here is Darcie, her long strawberry blond hair and her brilliant thoughts, flapping in the breeze of my infinite adoration.