I want to go to this on Sunday….anyone wanna go with me???? Pixelgirl???? Junestarr???

I’m writing to invite you to a special event Sunday February 3 at
2:00 PM. Graduates of Model Mugging self-defense classes (both the Washtenaw Area chapter and from around the country) are coming together that day to meet with other grads and get a chance to practice their skills. At 2:00 PM you are invited to join us for a brief talk on WAMM and self-defense, and then a chance to witness the grads fighting back.

This is an opportunity to celebrate women’s strength, spirit, and
determination in the face of violence. If you’ve been interested in
self-defense, and wondering if this is the right class for you, I
hope you’ll join us.

Sunday February 3, 2002
2:00-3:00 PM
Senior Health Building Gym
St. Joseph Hospital, Ypsilanti, MI
(for directions www.sjmh.com )

Please note that this demo is not appropriate for kids 12 and under.
If you have any questions about WAMM please feel free to contact us
at 734/669-2089 or see www.dreamworld.org/wamm

It’s not late enough for me to be this weary.

I have no funny stories…..well, I do, but I am too tired to tell them.

under the blankets
i am wiggling my toes
anticipation

you know when you have a million things that you SHOULD be doing….and you just can’t bring yourself to do them. But at the same time, you can’t relax, because you know you SHOULD be doing those things that are hanging over your head.

Yeah, that about sums it up.

Tomorrow, Reflexology part 2. I’m sure there will be stories to tell. I’m going to bed…me, murphy and my blankey. All I want right now is a freaking bowl of cereal….and i don’t have any. Stupid freaking absence of cereal.

Saturday….I’ll start with Saturday.

Coaches Corner…ever been there? Yeah, me either. I ate some mini tacos and drank a coke with friends. I was tired so I called it an evening at about midnight. I went straight home, put on my p.j’s, wrote some haiku and was just about to crawl into bed around 1:30 when the phone rang. It was “blank” (name with held, since he’s been embarrassed enough already). “Blank” was very, very intoxicated. In fact the most intoxicated that I have ever seen or heard. That is quite a statement since I have known him since 1990, and we’ve been drunk more than a few times together.

Me: Where are you in a vacuum chamber?
Blank: At the bar. In the bathroom.
Me: Who are you with?
Blank: No one.
Me: How are you getting home?
Blank: my car.

at that point I started putting on my shoes.

I talked to him the entire way there (which he has no recollection of). At one point a voice yelled in the background, “SHUT UP!”. Apparently “blank” was talking loudly. “Blank” yelled, “yeah, this guy is trying to take a crap, and I’m gonna kick his ass when he’s done”.

Just so you know this is completely not Blank’s nature…at all. We decided later that it was the whiskey, and he will most likely be mainly sticking to beer and wine going forward.

When I got there, got him and were getting ready to leave we saw some friends. All three of us tried to coax him into the car which he kept getting out of. Telling us how much he loved us and especially his best friend. Awwwwww.

We then proceeded to drive to the very distant east side. He kept repeating the same stories about a girl that he likes. He would preface them with, “did I ever tell you the story about…” I kept saying “yes, yes you have”, until I tired. Then I began to treat him like an Alzheimer patient and respond with, “no, why don’t you tell me about it”. He was obsessed with trying to use his cell phone but kept saying he couldn’t because his fingers were just too big.

At that point, we decided that we should get food. By this time it was about 3 am. I must have been speeding because the cops pulled me over. I didn’t have my proof of insurance or my registration because I had left them in my wallet when I ran out of the house. I told the cop the situation and gave him my license. He went back to the patrol car. At this point “Blank” was saying things like “fucking pigs. I’ll kill ‘em”, in a very loud voice with the window open. I kept telling him to shut up to no avail. Am I an evil person for thinking it would have been funny for him to be arrested?

The cop came back and said those dreaded words, “M’am, please step out of the vehicle”. He asked me to recite my ABC’s. I told them that I had not had anything to drink. His response was that the stench of alcohol wafting out of the DRIVER’S side window was so strong, he couldn’t tell exactly where it was coming from. So, after the ABC’s and balancing on each foot for ten seconds, he told me to slow down and have a nice night. I have never, NEVER, been drunk tested…..even in the days of yore, when I probably should have been.

At the Coney, we sat across and slightly in front of two more police officers. “Blank” again felt it necessary to say more things about “kicking cops asses” and “fucking pigs”. Then he repeatedly said that he would break anyone’s legs that would fuck with me. Which I know….drunk or sober “Blank’s” got my back. He’s a good guy, and he gave me permission to tell the story, but he was drunk when he agreed, and I don’t want to piss him off.

At this point I was tired and feeling like amusing myself at the expense of my drunk friend.

Me: You would break anyone’s legs for me?
Blank: Anyone.
Me: What about that guy over there?
Blank: What guy?
Me: That guy over there in the green hat.
He stands up, grabs the catsup bottle, hold it over his head menacingly, realizes it’s plastic and laughs. He puts it down, fumbles through the condiments finds that the sugar is a heavy glass object and stands up again. Remember, there are two uniformed police officers sitting less than ten feet away from us. He’s waiting for me to stop him. I don’t. He turns back twards me…

Blank: What did this guy do to you?
Me: He looked at me funny
Blank: He did?
Me: Yeah
Blank (turns twards the isle, thinks about it, turns back around and flops back into the booth, laughing): Noooooo he didn’t.

Then he became fascinates with the cell phone again. He wanted to call a girl that he liked. All night I had been telling him not to, and that he could call her tomorrow, and to trust me, because he would regret it. But once again I was tired, so when he asked me to push send, because my fingers were smaller, and could work with the phone better….I did. It was 3:30 am.

She was very cool about it, and although the next day, I wanted to pretend he said messed up things to her, he didn’t. I will tell you, his opening line was, “Hi, blank, it’s blank. I just wanted to make sure that you got home okay”. Smooth my man…..very smooth.

I slept over (on the couch….in case your the girl he called that he likes) and we went back to the city the next day to retrieve his car. Unfortunately, he couldn’t remember where he parked it. So we drove around Tiger’s Stadium and the surrounding areas until we located it, parked at a 90 degree angle to the yellow lines.

and now it’s Tuesday and I have to peruse a fascinating Filemaker 5.5 book so I can pretend that I know how to make a relational database by 10 am.

Rock on Peeps.

the drunk pictures were made by me and the lovely Gwen Joy.

She spilled borsht on the floor when she tripped on her way to the sink. Funny right? I probably should have made up a really crazy and outrageous story, but, there you go. I also have pictures of me eating borsht off of the floor with a spoon. Hehehehe….I’m so gross.

I went to my first class at Irene’s. It was a Reflexology elective. Reflexology is applying pressure to specific points in the hands and feet that correspond to organs and glands in the body. I left at the end of the day questioning what the hell I had gotten myself into.

When I raised my hand, four hours into the class, and said that I had been looking through all of my anatomy and physiology books, and I couldn’t find a scientific basis for reflexology. I thought I might either be kicked out of class, or mauled by the students. Many classmates and even the teacher responded to me with the zeal of a born again fundamentalist Christian. They responded with things like, “There is no scientific basis. You have to experience it first hand. It just works!”. After that scenario, I stayed pretty quiet. Even when the class got off track for the hundredth time because people wanted to tell personal stories, I wisely, stayed silent.

This girl was talking about her migraines and other classmates were giving her advice like, wrapping a strip of fabric tightly around her head, or, putting her feet into a basin of hot or cold water. I have migraines and I wanted to shout that she needed to go to her DOCTOR…doctor….not holistic health practioner…and get some Imitrex made by PHISOR (I think) a big evil drug company. But I knew I was in Rome, and although I could not do as the Romans, I thought, at least I wouldn’t provoke the Romans.

I mean, geesh, I do believe Reflexology works, for whatever reason. It is entirely possible that the scientific basis just hasn’t been researched and found yet. Just a short while ago we thought the world was flat, an atom was the smallest particle and Michael Jackson was a normal guy. Now we know better, don’t we.

So, after I left, and got over my anxiety about possibly making a huge commitment of time and money to a bunch of freaks, I calmed down, realized that the freak faction was only a portion of the whole, and, I could deal with it. There are actually many physical thearapists and nurses…which I will befriend as soon as regular classes start.

Other than that, I really have nothing to rant about. I’m actually going out of the house tonight to a gallery opening and then somewhere with loud music and debauchery.

Thanks for playing….parting gifts are waiting behind curtain number one.

C I n Di GO!

I’m so excited…I made it onto drunkenmess.com (January). What a claim to fame. I’ll tell you the full story if you ask.

I’ve updated my “very basic requirement” list on my site.
cindigo.com…click on “about” and then “very basic requirements”. Or, if you want to go directly there, click here.

internet safety
among the community
you cannot touch me

I’M BACK…..thanks to Dave from Comcast….one of three out of three hundered Comcast employees that was helpful and nice to me. DOWN WITH COMCAST….COMCAST SUCKS!!!!

Or…altranate title: Most beauty I’ve seen comes from a dream….but I can’t close my eyes anymore.

I wanted to post a post to my last post…last night (hehehe). Unfortunately, I had a blinding migrane. I’m glad I haven’t fixed my cam yet, because if I had, you would have seen me on the floor with my head wraped in a “First Down” down bubble jacket, laying in “child position”. Child position is a nice yoga term for head on the floor, butt in the air, arms in front….somewhat like a frog. Besides yoga, I believe, there are only two other times that you should be in this position, one is extreme passion, and the other extremem pain. Yesterday definately was not passion.

Hey, thanks for all the nice replies to my last post. It’s hard because when I’m feeling insecure, it’s difficult to feel that other people are insecure too. It just feels like fine, you hate me, I hate you too. I mean, I understand, really and truely. It’s just that when I rise above, or, let me rephrase, I am continually struggling to rise above something, it always suprises me when everyone else isn’t doing the same thing. I know that’s extremely self centered, but it’s how I feel, before I think it through. I’m the most insecure person in the world….that’s why I try so hard to go through it.

Sorry about the extremely long and ranting post. I wasn’t going to put it up, but I wrote it, and then I just kept writing. I figured that I already know the story…so why not.

I was the kid that stopped going to school in sixth grade because I got beat up and picked on every day for being a dork…stupid hair, ugly clothes, eyes to the ground, booked and depansted in front of the gym class many times. It was a terrible time. They would fuck with me, I would lamely try to defend myself and then we would all get detentions. Which meant, I would have to sit in and enclosed small room with girls that hated me, for half an hour on a regular basis. Which in turn didn’t make me any more well liked. I kept asking to be put in a different school and no one would listen.

When I went home for the holidays and found some transcripts of a councelor that my mom made me see…it was horrible. If I saw this woman today, I would punch her in the eye. After reading these transcripts, it made alot more sense why the school treated me so poorly. She said I was uncoperative, manipulative, made many refrences to my premature birth and alluded to mental problems steming from that. I remember vividly sitting in the principal’s office with my mother. The vice principal was there and he was so angry, saying things like, “If she thinks that she can get away with this kind of behaviour, she’s got another thing coming”. I was sitting right there, being spoken to in the third person. What did he know, the only information that he got was from the councelor, that needed a good eye punching.

And no one considered that the summer between 5th and 6th grade my parents got divorced, because my dad felt the need to start his third family with a woman from work. I’m sure that would have little affect a kid. Not that at the time I considered myself a kid. No problem when the most important male figure in my young life leaves, and my mom explains it to me by saying that “it’s not your fault, “your father just can’t handle children”. No problem that this poor excuse for a dad always says he will come and pick you up and never does. But it’s okay because he was busy, I must have gotten the day wrong, I’ll just sit out on the front steps with my backpack and wait some more.

Yes Dr. Asshole, your right, I guess I was just a brain dammaged mental case that deserves to go to a juvenile detention center.

Can you believe it….I had to go to court so that they could decide if I should go to a DETENTION CENTER. Did I set things on fire, hurt people, mouth off, bring weapons to school? No, I just slept….why because I was rightfully depressed. And what a smart course of action to put a depressed child in a detention center.

So I went to court and the judge said….hmmmm….something doesn’t sound right. We went into chambers and he asked me what was going on. So I told him the entire story, in tears, ending with…I just want to go to a different school. So, the judge turns to my mom and asked if this was an option. Then, THEN, everyone was like, oh a different school, what a great idea, if only she had said something before! So I went, and guess what….I was fine. Straight F’s to straight A’s (okay, straight B’s).

So, it was the 80’s, and after going throught the jr. high fiasco…I was angry. Interestingly enough, I started gravitating tward punk rock. Because, in one in a half short years, I would have to go back to high school with all of the same people that tortured me for so long and you know what….fuck them….it wasn’t going to happen again. So by my freshman year of highschool, a purple mowhawk evolved. “Fuck you, I’m angry, and I’ll fuck you up”….and I would have too.

But the thing was that since it was the 80’s, and punk was relatively new, I was now not unpopular. Plus I was good at art and spent all, ALL, my time in the art department. So I’m still angry and disconnected, but now I’m “cool”, and no one fucks with me.

Then I go to college and get drunk alot….but I’ll save that for another post.

I really didn’t mean to go into that much detail, but there was a reason I started to tell that story. I know that my story is not unique, or even if it is, pain is pain, however you come across it. People grow up and they get hurt in various ways so the shut down….or not. Or, you could go through life and face your demons to the best of your ability, or, you could look at the ground and stay disconnected in fear until you die.

Please understand, I’m not preaching, I’m talking to myself….because some days are easier than others. Some days I’m reconciled with myself and some days I feel like crawling under the couch. Today, I have one foot under the couch, and one foot out the door…so, this is my personal pep talk, shared with my peeps.

1/11/01-Some days are better than others
current music-Tricky-Black Steel

Some people are on t.v talking about how god or angels were looking out for them because they narrowly averted being in the World Trade Center on Sept. 11.

So what, all those other thousands of people that were killed were on god’s bad side.

So if you’re praising god for sparing your life, shouldn’ t those other people be cursing him for talking their loved ones? I lean a little more east when it come to the god department. I’ll paraphrase Charles Bukouski from Barfly…..he’s talking about people, but I’ll fill in the blank. ” I like (christians…not christians…but CHRISTIANS, school, authority figures, so many more, but i’m just not feeling like ranting any more) I just feel better when they’re not around”

And did you know that (sorry, I’m gonna talk about Jesus again) that the bible mentions Jesus as a baby up to 15, and then not again until he’s 30. Where was he for 15 years? China that’s where, studying Buddahism.

anyway, I have to go, because if you haven’t noticed, I haven’t been around for a few days. Why….because comcast sucks and I’m on a dial up that is a little sketchy. I’ve noticed you’ve missed me because of the flood (not) of emails in my inbox asking about my well being.

I’ll be back tomorrow at 11 am. I know you’ll be waiting.

I was waiting for it to be midnight….and now it’s past. I want to tell you something very important, but there are no words for this very important thing.

But here’s a non-important thing that’s somewhat amusing. The word of the day came in my email at midnight. When the notification went off….I knew it was that dumb word, and I didn’t run to check it right away. But then, after 30 seconds or so, I thought it might have something else in there besides the freaking word of the day, so I broke down and looked.

Now, on to the sophomoric rant:

I’ll tell you what I’m looking for….I’m looking for some relief. Not the relief that you are supposed to get when you pray (which has never really deeply satisfied me). I’m talking about the relief that you get when you are on a long road trip and have to pee. There is no rest area for 50 miles and the driver won’t stop. I want the kind of relief that comes after you race hunched over into the bathroom and viciously unzip you pants.

Does that brand of mental relief exist?

I have a salt water fish tank. I was thinking about writing a horrible analogy to fish in the tank and humans on the earth. But now, I just decided against it because in written form, it sounds stupid and ten steps beyond stupid.

Here’s something that bothers me:

Most of the time, when I go through my day and I really try to connect with people. When I’m by myself, I talk to grocery clerks, people in line, waitresses, mailmen, shoppers….whoever. Many times when I say something, people look at me in disbelief, or seem puzzled as to why I am speaking to them. I started to get a complex….okay….I have a complex.

But okay, I’m going to think of this another way. When people give me the “look” it’s not because I’m weird, it’s because they’re insecure.

I will tell you about a cool interaction. I was at Starbucks standing at the coffee bar waiting for my ridiculously overpriced coffee drink. I saw this guy in a suit writing on a piece of yellow notebook paper. On the top was written in huge black magic marker “TO DO LIST”. He was writing down a ton of stuff, and getting more fidgety and agitated with each consecutive number he wrote. I got my coffee, walked up next to him, and put my hand on his arm. He looked up, confused. I said, “Don’t forget to take your vitamins”. His confused look turned to a smile, and I walked away.

Not like two hours ago, when I was at the hippie granola grocery store and I was trying to ask a lady for help in bottled water procedure. She was acting like I was trying to attack her with a box cutter.

I guess the moral to my story, or rather an answer to the question that I have no words for is…..If I don’t want to walk around half dead, waiting for the weekend, or a good tv night, I will experience pain, frustration, loneliness, fear, insecurity and a bunch of other emotions that I’m too tired to list.

Geesh…I’m going to bed

I’m working…see….if you are in this room and you are looking at me….you would say….”Gee Cindigo, you certainly working hard!” But ha, ha on you, I am not working hard at all. I am avoiding two small gif animations that have been calling to me. They are so ugly and boring, i hate their guts. I would like to throw them down off a high cliff, higher than the highest skyscraper and watch them smash on the rocks below. I would laugh and laugh at their pitiful mewling as they fell towards the rocky ground. I would shout to the heavens with a joyous bellow of victory as the pathetic and horrible creatures were extinguished for ever.

I can’t help it, I just love personifying inanimate objects.

it sucks to be you
because you are a looser
and you hate my guts

sitting in my chair
thinking about fried chicken
the air filter hums

novelty worn off
I have become annoying
they don’t want to play

I stumbled across this service.
I figure that I’m not meeting the man of my dreams not because I sit in my living room all the time and have an intense fear of intimacy…oh no, that’s not it. The real reason is, that I’m so great, Mr. Right just is too tongue tied to talk to me. So…to help out the thronging masses that are just dying to ask me out for an evening of witty banter and cocktails, I have provided the above link.

Did I mention that I registered for myomassagolgy school (massage thearpy)????

Well I did, and everyone thinks it’s a terrible idea. I say BAH on them.

Well, that’s not entirely true.

Four People think it’s dumb.
One more person thinks it’s dumb but won’t say anything because I’ll yell.
And three people think it’s a good idea.
Plus me, I think it’s a good idea.

So, really, only the last opinion counts anyway.

It’s midnight and I’m so very tired. But, I don’t want to go to bed. I’m watching dumb tv….and watching dumb tv. I want to write an amazing and funny story, because those are the best. But I have none…I don’t even have the brain power to make one up.

I’m feeling a little sick….and low. I bought these little reflexology cards and have been pressing all kinds of points on my hands and feet. It doesn’t seem to be working. It’s just making my hands and feet sore.

A few months ago, I subscribed to Websters word of the day. I liked it for a little while, but I’ve noticed that the email always shows up at midnight. My email notification sound goes off and I get all happy because I have email. Then I look and it’s just that dumb word of the day. That and the two unread emails that I keep there just because. Actually, one is revisions for a website that I’m working on wich I vowed not to look at until tomorrow, and the other is a self defense class that I really do want to take. I know if I leave it marked as unread, it will remind me about it.

According to the date, it has been reminding me for about four months now. Two reasons that I am putting it off are 1. I think it costs around $500.00, and 2. It will probably make me cry in front of a bunch of strangers.

It’s called Model Mugging, where a padded guy attacks you full force and you have to kick the shit out of him. In theory, this sounds like fun, but reality, I know it would be very scary, and my thinly veiled hard ass shell would crumble and I would end up revealing the big marshmellow sap head that I really am to a bunch of people that I never met before. So, those are the reasons I keep putting it off.

My email notification just told me I have a real email…a real one from Gwen from Gwentown. She thinks my site is “super-pretty”. Awwww……I love Gwen…..she rocks. If she lived closer, I would take her out for Chinese food.

Also, I forgot here’s a randomly funny Jesus link that my friend Rob sent me.