you're it

So Jeff has taken the liberty of randomly tagging me. Thanks, Jeff. So the premise is to list five weird things about yourself and then tag five people.

So here are my five "weird" things:

I have an extra vertebra. It doesn’t enable me to do anything except that yoga is difficult at times.

I ate an entire bag of Swedish Fish last night. I love the gummy texture they leave in my molars. Then I felt guilty because I think that the gumminess is a result of gelatin which is on my vegetarian list of things to avoid because it is an animal byproduct.

I read haiku in the bathroom.

I still have one baby tooth that lacks a successor-- my dentist patiently awaits its ultimate descent.

I tap dance in elevators by myself.

The five people I tagged were the result of doing a keyword search relevant to my "weird" list: Olivier A Paris, Crackheadfe, Sekime-Photolog, JohnParks, Garganchewin.

post holiday stress disorder

So I noticed a trend on blogs concerning 2005 in review. My favorite being this one. Technically, I have never considered annual reflection during the new year. My excuse: I’m Indian (in case you haven’t heard me mention it). Time does not have a beginning or end, or extend itself in a linear fashion. It bends in on itself. It’s an onion. It’s a goddamned domino arrangement teetering on the edge of sanity. Or an aesthetically interesting, but poorly functional IKEA bookshelf. And in that anachronistical fashion, please note that I am posting this unintentionally toward the end of January.

After reading some of these inspirational entries, I realized that my 2005 sucked. Yes, part of it may have to do with my dazzling pessimism. But in sum, when I reminisce about the chapter that was 2004, 2005 just sucked. So in the spirit of trying new things, here is a slapdash year in review.

January
Hey, I have an idea. Let’s sign up for a graduate class in postmodern literature. Hey, where did these kids come from…rural Indiana? Oh, yes, I guess they did. Well, maybe I can learn ‘em some Don DeLillo.

February
Underwent a hernia surgery for an injury received on a film set in 2004.

Note to self: Do not drag an ice chest full of ice and soda onto a bus by yourself followed by spin class with a diva instructor who wears real diamond earrings and polo sweatsuits.

Additional note to self: Don’t trust a doctor who addresses you in the third person while sucking on a lollipop like he’s goddamned Kojak.

The rest of this month was spent on a couch, enjoying episodes of Next and Prince Valium.

March
Oh, wait a minute, I’m organizing a film festival and an annual board meeting? No problem.

April
For the first time ever, I purchased and consumed a frozen meal. I felt naughty. Growing up, everything was homemade -- bread, noodles, etc. Because, you know, corporations are out to get us with their preservatives, toxic ingredients and illegal harvesting methods.

Thank you, Morningstar Farms, for your delicious vegetarian frozen meals.

May

Memorial Day Itinerary
2:00 p.m. - 3:00 p.m. Bunny Baseball
11:30 p.m. - 12:30 a.m. Bell Biv Devoe Dance Party
2:00 - 3:00 a.m. Imitating Van Morrison doing can-can kicks on The Last Waltz

June
Summer trip to Tulum, Mexico. Highlights were snorkeling, playing dice in a grass hut during a rain storm, and telling my waiters that I was a vegetable when I was trying to say I was vegetarian. Good to know that “smile and nod” is a universal language.

July
After separated for one year, The Toby and I were reunited. We had a year apart to think about our relationship, but I just couldn’t quit him. We’ve been through it all: piddle training, don’t-bite-the-children training, three moves, and two chaotic boyfriends.

August
After a three month search, Toombsday and I finally found a place to call (temporarily) home. We could not find anything downtown for under $1,000 a month that did not have rooms that smelled like cat urine, or offices without electrical or cable outlets, or crack dealers banging on our door. Instead we settled for a mid-town duplex with punk rockers for neighbors, but that’s another story.

September
After three years of daydreaming, I finished developing a thesis based on the coyote/trickster cycle in Erdrich’s Last Report. Changing gender identity is a major motif. Excerpt: “In some oral accounts, the coyote shaped a vagina from elk liver.” So he could get food for his squirrel friends, of course.

October>

The annual Megatron Halloween Spectacular during which I shattered many eardrums with my rendition of Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin’.” Her home included a faux-torture chamber and a casket constructed to hold a keg. Companies interested in sponsoring her events, please e-mail me for further information. Additional side note: in no way do they endorse murder, torture, or live burials.

November
Native American Philanthropy month in Indiana where there are no Indians. At least we have a kick ass museum. I met Joy Harjo and drank too much wine with Indians in executive positions. I sat back momentarily and thought: Have I arrived? Is this how we beat the system? Not by holding up picket signs and sitting on Alcatraz, but by tricking the system into thinking that we are normal? By holding fundraisers and playing golf, too? And then I realized I was just drunk. Or maybe I was dead on.

In sum, I think the emcee, Kay Walkingstick, put it well when she said, “The only reason why you feel guilty for us is because we are still alive.”

December
Only kicked out of one of my three holiday parties -- not because I was belligerently drunk, but because my section was bought by large Armenians with pinky rings and petite girlfriends.
Note to self: Do not partake in any product, venue, etc. that substitutes a similar-sounding letter for the actual letter.

Example: Vizion (Vision) = gay; Hypnotiq (Hypnotic) = retarded and gay

So in sum, I realized my mortality, which I suppose can be considered “growth.” I call it shitty disillusionment of grandeur. I cannot try to do three overreaching events in one month without physically or mentally breaking down. I can, however, forgive myself for trying with large amounts of alcohol, traveling and an undiagnosed case of tourettes. So here is to 2006 and balancing priorities aligned with my actual needs rather than other peoples’ expectations.

Cheers!

colts collapse

So this is the end of our road? Three years ago, when I met you, I hardly noticed you even though you were always the center of attention. Groups of family and friends invited me over to meet you though I hardly ever took fancy to what seemed to be your manipulative tactics. I preferred the artichoke dip to your aggressive nature.

But over the years, I learned to look beyond this façade of machismo. What I mistook for manipulation was actually strategic finesse. What I thought was unnecessary aggression was actually just your unwavering desire to succeed. And I hoped that your outrageous salaries would offset the imbalance of our public servants’ salaries (school teachers, bus drivers, etc.) with your ability to implode an enemy’s head or to melt a defender with laser eye energy.

But I don’t know if I can forgive you for what you did on Sunday. Honestly, what more could you want from us? We have given you so much: a strong support base, ideal demographics and exceptional mentors and leadership (even if one of them has a penchant for beat writers). We even are going to give you a modernized, state-of-the-art home. And yet we never realized our full potential together. Why is this? They say that the definition of insanity is repeating the same behavior and expecting different results. But can we give this one more try? If not for me, do it for the local economy and franchise dollars.

In spite of it all -- the nine consecutive months of winter and a lackluster finale to a historical season -- at least we still have Angela.

absurd

My gym decided to start a valet parking service. What a great idea! I didn't want to overexert myself by walking across the parking lot.

"Pour some sugar on me"

FADE IN: INT. Medicine Hall. Norman, Oklahoma. Night. A group of misguided youths gather for a brew and listen to a distorted, equally misguided emo band. ANA is half-listening to the band, half-engaged in a conversation with MATT, a rightfully pretentious piano major. Also with them is TIM, a computer technician who has brittle, crunchy black hair -- most likely the result of too much hair gel -- and wears a flannel shirt because there was no time to change clothes in between rounds of Dune and Grand Theft Auto. Tim brought AARON who also, due to his computer addiction, has not seen daylight or a razor in three days. The BAND tricks the audience into thinking that they are simply shoegazers, who rely on memorizing parabolic destruction to confect this seemingly innocent math rock. Nay, my friend, if Burroughs were a rock star, this would be he.

BAND (in the tone of fiberglass with crashing guitar chords)

Don’t leave me now. Don’t leave me know.

MATT

This has too many highs and lows. Not enough transition. I can’t handle it.

BAND (whiny like a castrati who just lost his will to live)

I love you. I love you.

BAND falls into embryonic positions on the beer-soaked, cigarette-laden floor.

MATT

White noise is B flat. The minor tone is emitted from amps, televisions, and the ringing you’ll hear in your ears tonight after leaving this godforsaken place.

ANA (forlorn and dreamily captivated)

But what does it all mean?

MATT
God is B flat. He is everywhere.

TIM

Well, why don’t we just start our own boy band? Matt will be the individual who has his personality. I will be the charismatic one with all the right moves. John will be the unattainable teenage heartthrob. I guess Aaron will have to be the antisocial one since he does that so well.

AARON

Why do I have to be the antisocial one?

TIM

You need to get on Paxil, Aaron.

AARON

No way. Side effects include nausea, uncontrollable appetite, constipation, diarrhea, memory loss, hair loss, weight loss, weight gain, insomnia, drowsiness.

MATT

You know what we really need? A no-armed drummer. Def Leppard was noticed for their one-armed drummer. We need a no-armed drummer. We’ll just attach drumsticks to his shoulders. The animation will be incredible -- ticket sales will be huge.

FADE OUT

Journal entry circa August 21, 2001. I found this while searching for an old document that might help me organize my work. Track funders, grantwriters, etc. Then I stumbled upon my old e-journal and these random notes from an inebriated night in Norman, Oklahoma. Starting a band with a no-armed drummer doesn’t sound so bad after all.