Fear of Clowns

I have had a fear of clowns since I can remember. It's not very rational and it didn't help matters to find out that John Wayne Gacy (serial murderer) was a clown. I use the fact that I am not alone in this fear to justify it, when really, those nuts who still believe Elvis to be alive are not alone either, so...

This is part of my attempt to get over my fear of clowns.

This is a 5x7 mixed media diorama of sorts. The swinging clown is from an original photo of mine, as is the backdrop. The flowers are drawn in calligraphy ink by me, and the little boy comes from an old black and white photo I found at a garage sale. The picture frame came from a garag sale as well.

She's a Mormon!

I think all of us bloggers can agree that it would be pretty kick ass to have a ton of people following our blog. Though that may not be the reason behind blogging (for some of us) or the impetus to begin a blog initially, if we don't harbor a secret desire for internet blogging fame, we at least would like to think that we aren't talking to ourselves in our own little corner of the internet. After all, talking to oneself is a sign of schizophrenia, is it not?

Why blog if you have no desire for others to hear you? Write in a damn journal. Or for those of you who like to use the fact that you'd rather type as an excuse for blogging, you could easily have a word doc. journal.
No, we blog because we have something to say. Out loud, to the world, and hopefully a handful of them pay attention.

< /prologue>


When I decided to start a blog again (I've been inconsistently blogging for 10 years) it had been a while since I had last expressed my ideas on the internets and I was completely new to Blogger. I took a look around this vast internet community that is Blogger and found some great blogs out there. Not surprisingly, I was not alone in enjoying these blogs and they had a fare amount of "followers".
Following the trail of highly read blogs I came across one that baffled me completely. This blog had nearly 2,000 followers. I figured it must be a great read so I sifted through it, reading short entry after boring entry, filled with mediocre photos of the blogger and his/her partner doing everyday things. I just couldn't see what it was that was so attractive to other people about this blog. It just seemed self indulgent and very hipster. Most photos were taken with a Holga and there was an awful lot of plaid being worn and no shortage of over-sized glasses that were undoubtedly non-prescription.

Maybe I'm just an asshole (it's likely) but it just looked to me like someone being "cool" on the internet and everybody else was buying it.

And then I read some of the comments and noticed a few people talking about, "the church" and Jesus, etc.. So I took a second look at the blog and saw a tiny ad for the Church of Latter day Saints.
And now it makes perfect sense. And the greatest part of understanding is no longer having to read that blog.

I'M NOT CRAZY YALL, I'M JUST REAL !!!!!!!!
(click here if you don't quite understand that last line)

RED

Artists can color the sky red because they know it's blue. Those of us who aren't artists must color things the way they really are or people might think we're stupid.
- Jules Feirffer

The draft is white people sending black people to fight yellow people to protect the country they stole from red people.
- James Rado
He liked to observe emotions; they were like red lanterns strung along the dark unknown of another's personality marking vulnerable points.
- Ayn Rand

Men are nicotine soak, beer besmirched, whiskey greased, red-eyed devils.
- Carrie Nation

Bathtime Stories

She always did things for no other reason than her own entertainment.
Others often didn't understand. It had never occurred to her that pasting pages from her favorite book around the shower walls was odd. She loved to read in candlelight and she loved baths.

Flowers!

After a long while of no work, Quinn and I did a small wedding this Sunday at the Adamson House.

Unfortunately we didn't get any pictures of the reception because we ran out of time, but hopefully we can get a few from the wedding photographer.

In the meantime, here are a few pics of the ceremony flowers.
The bricks we used were found, as well as the wood that Quinn used to make the lantern posts. The lavender, pomegranates, and dahlias were all grown locally, and the wine bottles...well, Quinn and I drank a lot of wine over last winter.

If you'd like, there are plenty more pictures on my website. You should have a look. Most of the stuff I do is very different from the usual floral display.
www.alexsandriadesigns.com

I'm Bi

That's right. Bisexual. Not BIpedal. Not BIased. Not BIlateral. BIsexual.
Mom, if you are reading this, I'm sorry. I know you don't like it when I "say" it out loud.

I like girls, and boys. Both of them equally, although I seem to find it easier to be in a relationship with a man. Women are too complex and emotional. But that doesn't stop me from being outrageously attracted to them.

Today at Trader Joe's, I saw a very beautiful woman. I pointed her out to Quinn as we are always open about that sort of thing. Sometimes we get caught checking out the same girl and it's a bit awkward.
As her and I passed each other, she smiled at me. I blushed. Quinn encouraged me to talk to her but I couldn't do it.

We're checking out and all of a sudden the girl is behind me in line. Tall and beautiful with slightly olive skin and green eyes.

We both go to grind our coffee at the same time. I start to feel really nervous.

She says something to me but I can't remember what and I ask her where she's from because she has an accent. She's from New Zealand. Another hot Kiwi, imagine that.

She asks where I'm from and I shrug and say Miami, nothing special. And she responds with, "you're beautiful". I begin to panic. Is she flirting? Is she just nice? And then she says she noticed me in the aisle and thought I was "amazing".

Inner voice: "Gah! What!?! Uh, oh my god! You're so hot!"
Outer voice: "oh, ha, uh thank you. I was thinking the same thing about you."
Inner voice: "ok, not bad. What now?"

We talk about my arm tattoo for a moment and about the elephant on her ankle. She mentions something about getting a tattoo with a girlfriend, but I can't tell what kind of girlfriend she means. And then she's done grinding her coffee and flitters off and I'm stunned and walk outside to meet Quinn.
"How did it go?" - Quinn
"she said I was beautiful." - Me
"What? She just said that? Did you get her number?" - Quinn

What Quinn doesn't understand is that it's not that simple. I have a boyfriend. Quinn is my boyfriend. And although I know he is comfortable with my attraction to other woman, I know he would not be comfortable with me dating another woman, and neither would I. I love Quinn, I don't need more than one relationship. This one is everything I need and more.

But that doesn't mean I don't miss the feeling of another woman.

But say I did get this girl's number, and then I went on a date with her. I would have to tell her that I have a boyfriend. I can't imagine her response would be anything other than, "what the hell are you doing here then?". And then am I supposed to say, "I just want to have sex with you"?
Yeah, that's going to go over swimmingly.

My friends, it is not easy being bisexual and in a committed relationship. Notatall.

Let's give it up for the sky!

Clouds come floating into my life, no longer to carry rain or usher storm, but to add color to my sunset sky.
- Rabindranath Tagore

Rest is not idleness, and to lie sometimes on the grass under trees on a summer's day, listening to the murmur of the water, or watching the clouds float across the sky, is by no means a waste of time.
- John Lubbock
Going around under an umbrella interferes with one's looking up at the sky.
- Jerzy Kosinsk

It was morning; through the high window I saw the pure, bright blue of the sky as it hovered cheerfully over the long roofs of the neighboring houses. It too seemed full of joy, as if it had special plans, and had put on its finest clothes for the occasion.
- Herman Hesse

Don't ask me for an explanation. I just want to show off my pretty sky pictures.

Never was there a story of more woe...

I have a friend, let's call her Jenny, who is separating from her husband, let's call him Larry.

They have been married for three years and just two weeks ago, Larry told Jenny that he has been seeing someone else for a year and he's been unhappy for two years and he just doesn't want to be married any longer. He does not want to talk about it, doesn't want to try counseling, and the worst part is, he never said anything to Jenny about how he felt at all until he'd already made up his mind and would consider nothing else. On top of all of this, Larry has done all the slimy things a real big asshole does when you hear these horror stories about a friend of a friend or the couple in apartment 4. Never do you think it could happen to someone you know, and especially not you!

I met both Larry and Jenny at the same time and knew them both equally. I say this only to establish that I am not predisposed to blame this break up on any one person.

As I listened to Jenny tell me and Quinn everything that has gone on between them in the past two weeks, and even the events leading up to those two weeks, I began to feel more than just appalled, I began to feel frightened. Here was this man that I thought I knew (not that we were great friends or anything but still) and it turns out that he had an amazing capacity to inflict some pretty hard core pain on someone he had at least claimed to love at some point. How could I have not known what he was capable of?

But as we got into the details of the story I realized that the truly scary part of this real life horror story was how Jenny had been fooled. Fooled into thinking she was safe in her relationship. Safe in the idea that Larry had vowed to always be there and always love her and at the very least, always try. Jenny had entered into a marriage with one man and had found herself separating from someone she didn't even know. And there had been no warning.

That is absolutely terrifying.

I have nightmares on a semi-regular basis. This is the kind of thing that happens in those nightmares. This is the kind of thing you wake up from and think to yourself, "thank god that's not going to happen". But for Jenny, it DID happen and that gives my fears and my nightmares more reality to sink it's roots into. A sturdy foundation of, "well, it happened to Jenny!". Not to mention my own experiences with a previous relationship (a case of mistaken identity in which I had mistaken him for a nice guy).

I was so thoroughly shaken by this new information that I couldn't sleep. Around three in the morning I began questioning Quinn about the specifics of his last two beak ups. Irrationally searching for red flags that would clue me in to just exactly how Quinn would inevitably turn into the evil heart smashing man-monster.

But how could that man hurt anyone? Quinn successfully talked me down off the ledge after only a half hour and I woke up feeling incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful man in my life. And if I have learned anything from my past (which has, on the whole, never been too easy), I've learned that even if Quinn did manage to hurt me, although I would be shattered for a long time, I would eventually be ok again. It always seems that when something you thought was wonderful ends, something more wonderful comes along shortly thereafter (although it is hard to imagine a man more wonderful than Quinn).

I hope that Jenny can keep that in mind in this massive time of transition.


*The illustration at the top of this post was done by Grace Liu

Photo credit: Moi

I'm melting! Oh what a world what a world...

It's so goddamned hot in LA I can't stand it!

Every half hour I'm back in the bathroom with my overheating, sausage like, feet in the sink. I swear steam rises from them at the very instant that cold water hits. My daily shower has been so cold over the past week that I stand under the water gasping for air. You know, that feeling you get when under cold water, like the air is being sucked out of your lungs involuntarily.

Shit. It's just really hot, man.

Here's a picture:

This picture of cold, frothy water is as good as porn to me right now. Oh! Oh! Oh! Yes! Oh!

Oh and, photo credit goes to Me!