a delicate system of checks and balances

Halloween offered a particularly memorable bus ride. When we reached UH, the entire freshman class boarded. Meaning, there were four reeling Quailmen, three staggering firefighters, two swimming mermaids, and a plowed ninja turtle who shoved down his pants two empty bottles of Heineken after the bus driver threatened banishment to those with open alcohol containers.

self depreciation is not code-four

I am totally aware the self-depreciation is not an attractive trait. I do not advise or practice it.

But if you do constantly cut yourself down, tear yourself up, rip yourself apart, stop it. People will not know how to give you a pat on the back if you say that your back is hideous.

birthdays, shmirthdays

Lost my umbrella and was soaked when the late bus coasted up my hill. Missed my transfer. Twenty minutes in downpour, bus transfer, late arrival to the movie. Sad film, bawled and shivered in the darkness. Another hour in the rain for a transfer.

By the time I got home I wanted to punch someone.

star struck

Today I got to interview children’s book author, James Rumford:

http://www.amazon.com/s?ie=UTF8&search-type=ss&index=books&field-author=James%20Rumford&page=1

He did two stints in the Peace Corps, speaks many different languages, and illustrates his own books! This makes me a total literary nerd, but I’m star struck. Now I get to write an article for our newsletter about him. Yes, I love my job.

writer's block

I finally have a job that requires me to write articles and stories and I can’t think of a damn thing. I miss the world of creative writing workshops. As much as I complained, it was good to be surrounded by creative, stimulating assignments. And group feedback. These days my writing self is quite blah.

I live vicariously by discussing the lives of others

“What I think,” I said to my friend—we were sitting in front of Safeway munching on pita chips and hummus—“is that they’re either getting married or breaking up.”

“Really?” she replied “Don’t you think you’re being drastic?”

That night they coyly showed me the ring.

Note to self: always go with gut feelings.

The things we do for self confidence

I was blow drying my hair and making all the faces that I make at my reflection when I’m alone. I flatten my nose, bulge my eyes and angle my face. The final mirror reflection that I see before I leave for work is the image of me I will carry around all day long.

Inspired by this photo

Nervous, uncomfortable, overbearing, penis-nose, dominant-submissive, passive, aggressive, confused, longing, Sesame Street, background, foreground, foreplay… sweat

Mascara, shag rug, dew rag, hair accessories, minnie mouse

Muppet, puppet, snuffleupagus, animatronics,

PBS, sunny days, chasing clouds away, on my way, to where…

The air is clean?

Tusks, wooly mammoth, cave, ice age, global warming, health insurance, absentee ballot.

supporting characters

I tried writing a story about the supporting character. The BFF. The bridesmaid. The comedy relief. She’s there to build dimension into the protagonist before she hovers into the shadows of somebody else's happy ending. But I realized a story about the supporting character is essentially a death sentence to her reason for existence.

21st Century Narcissism

The tragedy between beautiful and interesting is a crooked nose, a lopsided smile, a droopy eyelid. Cute isn’t beautiful but it’s symmetrical—visually adequate. Pretty’s runner-up to beautiful, but lacks something striking. A pretty face in a crowd—crowd, the operative word. No, the tragedy lays in interesting; one can witness what almost might’ve been.

To be lonely is a habit/Like smoking or taking drugs

I am not sincerely generous. I’m currently behind a closed door wishing that my friend would go home. Nevermind that I extended the invitation to stay. But shouldn’t all invitations include an end time? The white noise of the television through the wall is just enough for me to know that I am not alone.

riding in strange cars with strange people

Since arriving in Hawaii, I’ve ridden with many strangers. Some strangers are legitimate—coworkers, roommate’s boyfriends—but others are... from craigslist strange.

Example: over phone, a landlord exclaims, “I’m in the area—I’ll drive you to the place!” Two minutes later a shabby car jumps curb. What do I do?

I get in the car.

heavy sigh

Dear cat,

You’re a cat without a name. If you weren’t so hyper, you’d be an inanimate object to me. Providing you with food in the morning doesn’t mean that I want to be your caregiver.. or life partner.

Sincerely,

not your owner

P.S. I didn’t appreciate the dead cockroach you presented at my doorway.

Today I am happy and nostalgic.

With many writers and editors, I helped compile the Raising Readers blueprint for the Dolly Parton Library. Then I bussed downtown to a 25th floor meeting. Board member’s office. Massive windows, spectacular view. But the blinds were closed. I squinted through slits at the sunset-splashed Pacific. Man, someday I want not to be a peon.

until I am able to make up the missing word count...

Tonight, after several paragraph of unfit rambles (online dating, attractiveness, Religulous), I will leave you with a haiku. The haiku itself will not make fifty-five, but because it is quantity and not quality (or the other way around? I’m wiped!), I will yawn and post:

What I need tonight:
Alcohol, laughter, love; and,
Please: inspiration.

Famous, er, what's my name again?

Today I met this <---guy.


He’s on my Board of Directors. However, he is no longer Famous Amos ®™ because his fame now belongs to Kellogg Co.

Outside of his new, unfamous cookie store, I argued with the former first lady of Hawaii and my coworker over who should have to lei the cookie maverick.

everywhere I go it rains on me

On a professional note, I keep running across really cool internships. For instance, today I spent most of my work time on scholastic.com. (Work related! I Swear!) When I was a college junior or senior, had I known…

…I’m so OLD.

P.S. Yesterday I was called Ma’am. Twice. AND. I wasn’t carded while buying beer.

some of my dream jobs

illustrator of children’s or comic books (see David Shrigley, Delphine Perret);
writer (TO BE PUBLISHED!!);
architect*;
judge*;
forest ranger;
tour guide;
executive director of a non-profit*;
create my own hip stationary company like knockknock.biz*;
graphic designer*;
film or food critic;
event planner.

*would require me to return to school for at least 2-4 more years.

For today, 110.

Remember If You Give a Moose a Muffin? That author now has:

If You Give a ______ a _______.
Insert: Mouse, Pig; Cookie, Pancake.

Additionally:

If You Take a Mouse to _______.
Insert: the Movies, School.

I’ve spent a few work days reading the adventures of these diabetic, passive-aggressive mammals. (Insight: the books could be avoided by injecting animal abuse and salad).

I’ll make my fortune by ripping off this series. Instead of binge-eating rodents, my books will feature self-esteem boosters for teenage girls. Proposed titles:

If You Give a/n ______ a ______.
Insert: Anorexic, Bulimic; Cookie, Muffin.

If You Take a Nerd to ______.
Insert: Prom, the Movies, etc.

They turned the water off

Today:

I’m not very dedicated to my plan: crank out 55 words every day. I was not supposed to write 110 words every two days. If so, I would’ve titled this little journal 110. As an aside: I don’t have running water or enough room in this post to launch into a stream of consciousness explanation.

Yesterday:

Dear James Spader,

I loved you in Secretary but I was a bit apprehensive about your feathered mullet in Sex, Lies and Videotape. However, in that final scene where Andie MacDowell runs her fingers through your hair and you close your eyes like just like so…

…I think I love you, James Spader.

<3 Leanne

slacker

Today:
Lately I’ve found myself between bus transfers. The 6 to the 4 to the B to the 13. After a while this all begins to sound like high school’s differential equations. You know, those ridiculous test questions we assumed would have no place in reality. But then arrives the existential equation: what is my reality?

Yesterday:
Even two glasses of free champagne could not make the quilted purses look buyable. Each bag was created out of some messy, bold pattern, and screamed like it was being attacked by our retinas (or visa versa). But the champagne was free, so I kept my wallet shut, and chatted with the former Hawaii governor.

Amendments

Today I ran up some hills MOUNTAINS. And discovered the Exorcist* stairs. As I descended, I debated an ascent. That was until I witnessed this bro-dude extraordinaire first bike up massive hill uno and then proceed to cradle his bicycle for a slick, stair-master trot. (Note: I tried to minimize my heavy breathing PANTING)

*See: adjective for torture DEATH.

A 55 word list to accompany this photo:

Humidity, mud, leaves, laces, nylon, elastic, TJ Maxx men’s section, calves, knee caps, rocks, new, Asics, Dad, gift, thank you:

Endurance, back sweat, man sweat, butterfly sweat, Mom, walking, talking, Bear Bear, Swee, Fat Lard, Michelle, Big John

Exploration, hiking, slippery, bacteria, bamboo, artistic, photography, running, erosion, morning, nature, To Do List item number 5.

words, language, writing, dialogue, etc.

Here, they call trash “rubbish.” My landlord left an informative note on “rubbish disposal.” I automatically associate rubbish with Merriam Webster’s definition 2:

something that is worthless or nonsensical-

example: Few real masterpieces are forgotten and not much rubbish survives.

Initial response: rubbish is crap, not trash—you know—the stuff in the rubbish can.

I finally made it to the beach today [today being Sunday]

On my first day of work my boss presented to me a laundry basket filled with housewarming supplies. For lunch, she brought to the office homemade guacamole, because I’m from Arizona and would therefore miss Mexican food.

My boss is both generous and correct: I could go for a Carambas Mexican pizza right about now.

For Yesterday, because the last post was actually from Thursday via Hawaii Time

Last night I only saw my reflection in the window and I prematurely pulled my bus stop. The driver glared as I said sorry, next stop.

The stop before mine is the cemetery. I know that I’m being ridiculous, and that the family upstairs is noisy, but lately I’ve heard some bumps in the night.

I have decided to blog fifty-five words a day, every day, for the next year.

There were two puffer fish swimming past a submerged, barnacle-clad shopping cart in the Ala Wai Canal. One orange, one purple. Phoenix Suns colors. I hesitated and considered taking a picture when it started raining.

I have not yet made it to the beach but I have made it to Wal-Mart. Twice. Shhhh. Don’t tell.