Monday, April 25, 2011

So, i haven't been successful in posting video's... I'm starting to think it has something to do with my internet connection. Here it goes again.

Film 112. September 2007. Sharon Swenson. I sit on the third to front row on the right side of the room. I'm excited and anxious for instruction. The process is vicious. Her hybolical words always throw me, yet I can't help taking notes on inner thoughts recently sparked by her lecture. A master teacher. Excited for the first time all day to feel a sense of limitlessness, the way I always feel when the universe opens up and all that's there is me -- art, ideas, truth. She presents to us the idea that what makes film interesting... what really makes people connect with it... transcendence, meaning, escape... has nothing to do with the picture quality or color, tone, look, camera movement (although those things CAN contribute to it's meaning)... when it all comes down to it, unless the subject is interesting, the artform is completely useless. She then proceeds to show us a clip of OK GO, you know the one: treadmills. The camera sits on a tripod the whole 3:05 minutes long: cinematic suicide. (in hollywood terms... not french.) All we care about, as viewers, is how creative their routine is. They walk, they ski, they swim across the screen as the camera silently and obediently stands still. The little tingles, (I'm not sure if everybody got those little tingles) you get when you see something brilliant... yah, I got them. 

Now, this clip comes nothing remotely near to that one when discussing creativity, but to me, it opens up a passageway to limitlessness in the same way. The camera sits dormant. The picture is grainy and dark and badly lit. But still, for me it's magic.  It occurs to me every time I watch this how loved I am... and how much I can love. When I watch this I see friendship -- years and years of communicating with someone through notes and chords... a chorus filled with joy, support, and admiration. It's real laughter. It's real bonding. It's real. Sometimes it's just nice to remember that true art is deeper then steady movements and flashy colors... it's rooted deep inside of us and expressed in the simplest of ways. And often, quite often I think, art isn't meant to be art... it's just the only means we can think of to express something... and then voila! ... art appears.

as granny's do

My granny just tried to convince me to do something based off of research done in the 60's. I almost thought about mentioning that it's 2011. Almost.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


Wake up. It's sunny... of course it is. Which means I'll struggle all day long with an inability to come to terms with the fact that I can't go surfing becasue I have other "more important" things to do. I just had a dream that Hayden Christensen was my boyfriend. I have no clue where that came from. So many things I have to do, and no energy. It's one of those days when I have to convince myself to brush my teeth. 

Get dressed. Nail a board to a window that the rats are getting in through. Oh yah, brush teeth. Go to high school (NOT for myself)... shoot a time lapse for high school project. Eat. Help write a ten page paper for a  high school senior project. 

Two things are clear. 

1. I have high school friends. 
2. They're using me.

Needless to say, I went through the whole day not completely present. It's what Alicia and I have termed Glazey. No... I don't know how to spell that.

Sunday, February 6, 2011


Talimai- she's 3 or 4. She likes to draw and smiles when you draw something clever for her. She likes being listened to... and will grab your face and make you watch her lips up close if she thinks you missed what she said. Apparently she thinks that that'll help you hear her better. She compliments my earrings, and always notices when I have a new pair... her favorite are the elephants.

Nanea - also 3 or 4, likes to bounce. Especially when there's a camera around, but this doesn't help. She loves dressing up and putting on make-up. She plays pretend really well, and wants to be in charge of the imaginary world. She's extremely observant, even if you think she's not paying attention. The other day I tossed some water out the door while the screen door was closed. She thought that was clever, and I caught her filling up a cup and doing the same time a little later. Bad Idea on my part, she filled her cup up with water and toilet paper. yup.

In twenty years I'll show them this post.

Monday, December 13, 2010

When things go missing

Today I realized that my pipe was missing. I have a pipe. I don't smoke... but I have always fantasized about having a pipe in my mouth just to hold there... and pretend I was a gentle-woman. I bought it at an antique shop in Virginia... and then boiled it a few times... and then stuck it in my mouth any ole time I wanted to and said, "cheerio." So, today, well... actually, just about ten minutes ago I realized that I no longer know where my pipe is! I actually haven't seen it for some time. Last I remember, it was in my mouth as I told the kids stories... with an English accent. They giggled, and I was quite serious as I took it from my mouth in a suitable hold to straighten my non-existant goatee. And that's the last time I've seen it.


Not under my bed. (I knew it couldn't be there... but my childhood suggested otherwise.)

not behind the chest of drawers...

not under the stack of papers I just piled there the other day.

Personally... I see it everywhere. Perhaps I should say a prayer?

"Dear God... please help me find my vintage tobacco pipe."

Wednesday, August 11, 2010


ok one and single follower... this is for you. I've moved home. Remember how hard it was to leave? Feeling so meloncholy sitting on my porch as the sun woke up and then went to sleep... feeling like a total rock star on stage for my last concert with the Shivaree... feeling like I loved my friends so much that they should be permanently attached to my skin the way they are to my heart. It's hard leaving a place that you've made your home. It's hard facing the fear that where ever you are headed may not be this great. Isn't this what life is about? Isn't this what we're searching for? Why am I leaving? My heart would ache and stomach would turn wondering if I was making a terrible mistake. How can leaving a place feel so right... and yet so wrong? Home. Going home... and leaving home at the same time.

This has gotten me to thinking more deeply about what home is... and how that feels to have one... or maybe even more then one.

I used to think that home was a place... obviously something we all eventually realize isn't true. Then I discovered that home was Christ... which comforted me since He comes with me everywhere:) I think I'm learning a little bit more fully though about home as a place combined with the home inside that Christ has built. Everywhere there are people that we need... and then people that need us too. This exchange; the giving and receiving of love, is part of what combines the place with the heart i think. Here I have Pono. My 11 year old cousin that comes over daily to help me with the garden and keep me company with enthusiasm and wisdom in everything he does and says. Here I have Kalani. My 21 year old cousin who has the most amazing presence about him. He's so relaxed and so positive it's impossible to be anything else but pleased when he's around. Here I have the kids: Keanu and Zarr, they sleep over every night and come over directly after school. They help in little ways and we make pancakes. They fight over who gets to crack the eggs or pour the flour or hold the bowl and I make them share. Zarr hates listening but I can tell he really wants to. Keanu loves helping but has A.D.D. so I get his help for a few seconds every few minutes. I read and tell them stories, with my pipe in my mouth every night to help them fall asleep. I love it when Keanu sucks his thumb. They all have beautiful brown skin and bright green or hazel eyes. Last night, Keanu ejected his thumb from his mouth to ask for another story cause he wasn't even tired yet. Droopily he inserted his thumb, and before I could say "once upon a time" he was snoring. Kamaka, Kama, my brother Steve- everyone has something to contribute, everyone has something to recieve, and we all have each other.

I went from something so genuine and full of love to another thing, genuine and full of love still. I love the giving and the receiving, the constant exchange of love- this is what every home should feel like.

Friday, June 11, 2010

bad days

So... today was one of those bad days. Already had a bruised knuckle from kick boxing yesterday. My little sister sat down on the stool I use in order to get on my ridiculously high bed (yes I made it that way) so we had to fix it... and in the process I hammered my thumb and sawed my pinky. After a few choice words and throwing all the tools and chair as far away from me as I could (but since my muscles are also sore from boxing, "throwing" only means 2 feet) I told the little sis to pack her things so I could take her home. Which of course translates to... I hate her for breaking my chair... when really all it was was that I hated being so grumpy and needed to get her home before things got worse. Not fun... We argued about nothing on the way, and she cried in silence. How am I supposed to be a good big sister when I have bad days like this? How Do I change my mood when inside, deep down, I feel like screaming?! How does anybody? Humph... it's just one of THOSE bad days.