Cumpleaños

As of today, I have been alive 11,319 days. I am old.

A birthday is looming in my future. These last few days before a birthday usually bring up strange emotions. Last year, it was ambivalence. 29 was unadulterated excitement. 2007 was peaceful. This year could be described as purposeful.

I’m feeling mortal these days. I hear the sirens call out around me and I read about people younger than me dying and it invigorates me to do more while simultaneously striking fear in my bones. It’s a perpetual state of conflict, I suppose. I close my eyes and feel myself falling, wondering where I am going to land. I feel in flux.

Truth be told, 31 slips off my tongue easier than 30. I am embracing my age. I feel a tiny bit wiser with every crack of my hip bones in the morning. I find the youth of my co-workers amusing rather than revolting (this means that I have finally matured). I feel a calmness finding its place in the new baby wrinkles in my smilelines. This getting old thing is alright; if nothing else, it means I have more time to do all the stuff I need to do.

I need to love another dog. I should learn how to cook a decent tamale. I want to dip my toes into the clear blue of the Mediterranean. I want kiss under the stars and wrestle in the mud. I want to buy skates and try out for roller derby. And I want to see you, whoever you are.

Posted in I am a sap | 1 Comment

Feminism 101: history

Gather ’round the campfire. I want you to love me as much as I love you, so this here is community building hour. Today feels like a good day to address those who read my blog and bristle at my references of feminist politics. I figured I might break down some of the basics. We all need to speak the same language to understand each other, right?

This is in no way comprehensive, nor should this replace cracking open a real book. I’ve got loads and loads of books to loan out, so let me know if this topic amps you up.

(Hey! Don’t roll your eyes at me. I can see you through the intertubes.)

So with that rambling introduction, know your history.

There are three ‘waves’ of feminism to remember.

The first wave was late 1800′s to early 1900′s. The primary political goal was suffrage (right to vote). You have women such as Susan B. Anthony and Margaret Sanger causing a ruckus. This period is important, but incredibly problematic. For example, Margaret Sanger – the woman who spearheaded the demand for reproductive freedom and birth control pills – was a fan of Eugenics and used primarily Puerto Rican women as lab rats for the testing of birth control pills.

The second wave started in the early 1960′s and ends in the late 1970′s/early 1980′s. This is when you start seeing visible activists (see: bra burning, Gloria Steinem, Women’s Liberation March) and coalition building. Though a gross oversimplification,  the second wave was born out of women (or Rosie the Riveter as a cultural reference) being forced back into the homes after WWII. This is notable because during WWII women entered the job market en masse, making lots of money and celebrating a period of independence. Then, the soldiers came back. For some whacky reason, they wanted jobs. So the 1950′s were shaped by significant cultural constructions of family and home and femininity, ensuring that there was a return to the pre-WWII social structures. The second wave feminists fought this regression; they wanted jobs, education, equality, and peace.The consciousness-raising and slogan-coining were positive events…for white, middle-class women. The problem with the political goals of the second wave is they assumed many things: women weren’t working, women had access to education, and women had class mobility. The race and class issues propelled the evolution feminist politics.

The third wave is the result of race and class clashes in the second wave feminist era. The time period is the early 1990′s to the present. It is in this moment that the narrow and singular focus of the second wave has been abandoned for a lot of anti-racist work and community outreach. I would argue that the third wave was borne out of the Riot Grrrl movement. There was an incorporation of anti-capitalist, queer activism, and anti-racist rhetoric. The third wave is characterized by branching out of strict gender equality battles and embracing intersectionality.

Alright kids, that wraps up your first feminist lesson. I promise it won’t always be so boring. But, like I said above, know your history. The battles of the feminist movement are rooted in some epic failures and in-fighting among feminists, but countered by bad-ass bravery and standing up for what you believe in.

Posted in Nerdy, Politics | 1 Comment

Boner List, July Edition

1.  Fuck Yeah Daniel Clowes

True fact: if you don’t like Daniel Clowes, we cannot be friends.

2. Kayaking

Sure, you might look like a d-b, but it’s fun. And if you are super fancy and fashion forward you can bring a beer in a cozy to complete the amazing ensemble of fat suit life-jackets and awkward (flailing) rowing.

3. Sunshine in Seattle
Glasses

It appears that we will be breaching the 80 degree mark in Seattle this week. This means that the hipsters will break out their cut off skinny pant shorts, the curmudgeons will begin smiling at fellow humans, and people will fall in love. Summer in Seattle is epic in its awesomeness.

4. Smena 8M

Once upon a time I bought this old toy lomo camera. The translated “instruction manual” is hilarious, as it is full of unhelpful and poorly constructed tips that apparently were at one point helpful in Russian. My first roll will be hilarious (if I can figure out how to actually remove the film), and I promise to post the inevitable disaster to my flickr account.

5. Jenny Peterson photography

This Seattle photographer came to my attention when I needed an injection of inspiration the most. Her work is full of humor and weirdness and awesome light. Check it out.

What have you guys been checking out?

Posted in Culture Club, Nerdy, Photography | Leave a comment

OMGOMGOMG

I know it’s old news, but still….NERDBONER. So, so excited. In case you didn’t know, Scott P. and I are like *this*.

Posted in Nerdy | 2 Comments

Why I Hated FF XIII

Let’s sit around the warm and cozy internet fire and have a litttle nerd time, shall we?

I will admit something that may or may not come as a shocker: I love Final Fantasy. I know I’m not the only one. My love all for Final Fantasy is about as deep as they come. I’ve played FF for years: I have many adolescent and adult hours hours glued to my SNES, PS1, PS2, Nintendo DS, and now my PS3. Now that I have extolled my deep and historic love for the series, let’s change gears. Oh ye Game gods, open-up the flood gates and let the nerd rage flow in… I HATE FF XIII.

First, way too many cut scenes. For example, during chapter 3, I’d play for about 3 minutes, be interrupted by some very fancy looking scene that would last another 6 minutes, and then go back to have the same cycle repeat. Sure, it was pretty. But it gets old, fast. Especially if you die during battle and have to watch the whole cut scene over again.

Next, there seems to be a lack of skill required. You walk along, you fight mercilessly and without strategy, you survive, and your health is restored at the end of the battle. YAWN. Try again, Square Enix.

Last, the architecture seems weird. There are no levels. There are no shops (you just buy materials at save points). And that whole linear-progression until you are deep in the game.

It felt like a giant disappointment. But don’t get me wrong, you know I’ll be playing FF XIV in September. I just don’t know when to walk away.

Posted in Nerdy | 3 Comments

Pride!

Pride Flags

Only my queer community could convince me to set an alarm on a day off.  But, I did, and I marched myself and my camera downtown to watch the Pride Parade and followed it to Seattle Center to party with my people. And I don’t mean ‘my people’ in some co-optive and evil way. I truly mean my people. I did it for my Uncle and my Grandpa and for a few hearts I may have broken along the way.

Seattle Pride is an interesting event. I should admit that my perception of Pride is almost entirely shaped by my four years as a Capitol Hill resident. For the unaware and non-Seattleites, you should come to my neighborhood. No, really, it’s a lot of fun. It is considered colorful and fun for a reason: two blocks away from me is a weekly drag revue at Julia’s, a few more blocks down Broadway is Neighbours (a gay nightclub), and let’s not forget the famous Babeland to give you a taste of my ‘hood.

There is a reason why I chose this neighborhood. Besides allowing my environmental footprint to be tiny (no car, what what!), the diversity and eccentricity is my fuel. I need my surroundings to be as plugged-in and energized as I am. There is no doubt that I cherish where I live. It’s vibrant, it’s fun, and it’s comfortable for me.

But, I digress. Back to the Parade: yes, the corporate floats were lame. Everyone from Wells Fargo Bank to Miller Lite was there. But there was also a lot of authentic community celebrating and bonding. There were families and leather daddies and Dykes on Bikes, and everyone in between. But don’t take my word for it – come join me next year!

DSC_0186

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Art Projects

My summer will be all about art. I miss my creativity. I sometimes look at my negatives and my journals and sketchbooks and see all the verve and excitement and wonder where all that energy went. Then I remember being in school full-time and being trapped under oppressive gray skies and quickly see why I am tapped.

I digress! If you are in Seattle and need of some crafty or arty energy, hit me up. Maybe we can help each other out. My only request is that you be comfortable in front of a camera and not be a total turd.

Posted in Nerdy, Photography | 2 Comments

P/30

Knowing that someone has the potential to succeed is beautiful, but when you get to watch that person come into real success, it feels like the world is right and the stars have aligned and fate feels a little more believable. When I caught wind of Patrick Tafoya’s restaurant being written up by the San Francisco Chronicle and local food critics writing glowing reviews, it seems as though his world is on the verge of changing forever. I always knew he would make it big. And now that he is really, truly, tangibly successful, the world has righted itself.

I have an admittedly misguided pride in his success. I see his burgeoning fame through a prism of memories: I remember trying to encourage his interest in cooking while he was a server at the Courtyard Marriott in Albuquerque, I remember driving a U-Haul of our belongings from Albuquerque to Portland so he could attend culinary school, I remember quizzing him with flash cards covered in measurement conversions, I remember moving to Santa Rosa so he could move up the kitchen ranks.

(Note: this is about all I will offer publicly. The words aching to spill out are best saved for a therapists couch.)

Lucky for him, he seems to have met his match in his wife Christine. She seems to offer equal parts creativity, ambition, and drive. It is clear from concept, design, website, and a robust Facebook marketing mechanism that this is not his endeavor alone. There is an organic coherence between concept and menu, website and interior design; working in tandem has clearly worked out well for them.

For some of my oldest friends, you should also take a moment to be excited. You probably also remember him as a culinary student or a server, or maybe you encouraged us to move to Portland to follow his dream, or maybe you were even there at our wedding. And in this moment of collective pride, I gladly extended the same warmth and well-wishings to my other successful friends – the web guru in Albuquerque, the photographer in Las Cruces, the tech-whiz in Albuquerque, the teacher in Indianapolis, the instructor in Manhattan, the whip-smart SLP in Tukwila. The list goes on and on.

Before this gets too tangential or sentimental, just do me a favor and drop into P/30 if you happen to be in the North Bay area. And in the midst of a kitchen rush, with tickets stacking up and  a mob of four-tops waiting to be seated, look up to the chef and give him a polite wave for me.

Posted in Culture Club, I am a sap | 3 Comments

Anniversary photo post.

Where: Alexis Hotel, downtown Seattle
When: Last Week
Why: To celebrate a one year wedding anniversary. Well that, and I’m a sucker for a nice hotel.


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Mi familia

My beloved, lifesaving, hero of a Grandpa turned 78 yesterday. He beat his oncologists diagnosis of terminal lung cancer taking his life within the year. He still has the spunk and sharpness that I expect from him. Though he has no hair and lost considerable weight, his stubborn Careaga ways have beaten all the odds, with the panache and swagger that I have come to expect.

(Technical side note: He is not in remission, but his tumors haven’t grown. That’s all I care about.)

To celebrate, I wanted to do something big. Like, BIG. A 78 year old man has next to no material desires, but I knew I could offer something big and wonderful to him: my brother. Ever since I walked into his house on Manzano Street in Albuquerque as a virtual stranger back in 1993, my Grandpa insisted that my brother would come back into my life. He somehow mustered a strong enough optimism to counter my perpetual forlorn attitude after all my attempts to reach out to him failed. And what do you know, he was right.

I must admit this reunion is hardly mine to claim. Big, huge props must be given to my brother for being willing to entertain the idea that he had an unknown Grandfather and that he would be worth meeting. I’d like to think that all my stories about how amazing and wonderful and powerful my experience was with Grandpa and Lee warmed him up to the idea. Yesterday all of the efforts came into fruition.

The reunion was an experience too beautiful for words or pictures or a synopsis. Let’s just say that those years of being apart quickly dissipated. I watched them search each others faces across the table, and nearly burst into tears when I saw Justin’s hand reach across the table to him. We sat at a table in a suburban strip mall burger joint that resembles hundreds of thousand bland suburban strip mall burger joints, but there was serious healing happening amongst the tacky wall decorations and cacophonous sounds of NCAA tournament cheering.

Inevitably, the missing link – our father – came up in conversation. Grandpa hadn’t heard from him in a year. The last I talked to him was on an uncomfortable Skype call while I was in Denmark. Justin had a passing interest in seeing him, if only to punch him in the shoulder. I blew off the lack of news like I always have: he can pick up a phone, I could care less, he knows where I am, etc.

But, as always, my facade was a lie. I do care. To find my father, I turned to the most reliable of sites for him: New Mexico Corrections Department website. A quick inmate search lead me to him.

To be in my family is to ride a wilde rollercoaster. We are all flawed people. And I’m sure that most people can relate, as the image or idea of a perfect family is but a myth. But regardless of where we live or how we fail or hurt each other, I’d like to think that there will always be someone in my family that cares. I guess tonight I get to be that person for my father.

Posted in I am a sap | 3 Comments