Monday, September 12, 2011

stay in character


How do I...
I'm not sure where to begin...
. . .
. . . . .

We did it.
There was a ring; I said yes.

I got married.

It was (kind of) spontaneous and the ceremony was intimate and beautiful and high up and officiated by the most odd little Aussie, and I cant wait to see the pictures.
...So now my story ends here. I can dust hands and plan life. I can close this chapter, close this blog, say goodnight.

Thank you everyone for all your support and love.

I got married!

Disclaimer: Now, before you get too carried away, it was a spiritual wedding. Which means there was a ring, a ceremony, vows, photos, a reception, etc, but we didn't sign any papers. It was all about celebrating the connection that happens between two people, falling in love, infatuation, whatever it may be; celebrating the fact that it *exists*, that it actually *happens*.

I've always wanted to be a wife; I've always wanted to have a wedding, and to be married and happily in love. But I've now reached 28 years old and so far, I've been nothing but WRONG about love, about men. And though it breaks my heart wide open, I'm beginning to accept that I might not get the one thing I want most in life. The tragedy of this reality is unfuckingbearable.
So even if it never happens for me, at least I had THIS. Even if its invalid, at least I had a ceremony, a wedding, a vow exchange, pictures. I had the moment, the celebration, and all of the feelings.
Whether it is an escapist idealistic fantasty or not.
Even if it never happens for me, at least I had THIS.

Friday, September 2, 2011

mind the gap

I've landed myself a Brit! (Doesn't he look like a taller Keven?) He's so lovely and he says things like he's "keen on" me, and "fancies" me.
He earns points for:
-his charming accent
-his kindness
-his gorgeous apartment
-his height
-his charming accent
-his generousity
-his uber cool job
-his wardrobe
-his accent.

So another 'morning after', waking up in his light-filled apartment while he calls me 'babe' and grabs us some coffee, and I'm swooning.
And though he's eager to make me 'the girlfriend', I've been quite a bit hurt in the recent past, so I'm making every effort to pump the brakes on my heart's tendencies to open up and bleed. Not easy.

And in the meantime, today I'm filming the online preview thats meant as advertising for the play. The director needs Pris to be "all sex" in this scene, so I've the proper black lace lingerie, garter belt, and thigh-high fishnets. Not to mention the new hair cut Lorissa gave me. Half of my head is practically shaved, and the other half is purple and choppy.
Oh Pris.

current mood: punk rock
current music: art brut - good weekend

Wednesday, August 17, 2011

valoir le coup, c'est bien dans ma peau

Slowly, unsurely, but with loads of effort, I’m beginning to feel more grounded and sane. I’ve even been deemed well enough to return to school in Fall. I’d say a lot of it is due to the people surrounding me right now.
Agata signed up for the same ballet class I’ll be taking. She says it will be fun for her, but that mainly she wants to see me at least once a week. Amazing gal.
Lorissa promised to do something new and edgy with my hair.
Ryan owes me a glass of wine, and I feel he’s definitely earned a Scotch in reciprocation.
Calle has written the most beautifully supportive things.
And Keven, the absolute best rescuer. The other day he played The National’s Sorrow on his guitar for me. It was so beautifully appropriate, it really touched me, and took me back to the day that Leila literally serenaded me with Mirah’s Archipelago under the shade of the biggest tree at the park. And Keven’s actions are all the more punctuated with the familiarity of our closeness; we truly were best friends, and if that’s real, well it just never goes away. We even reminisced about being raised with the same parental dysfunctions: an impulsively volatile and unpredictable mother, and a quirky French father that was fantastic but mostly absent. Thus the primary source of our deep bond.
And so we laid back and stared at the starry sky, and talked about some of our favorite memories. Like the first time he told me he loved me: he had my landlady let him in when I was at work, and he laid down rose petals and herseys kisses in a path from my bedroom door to a big heart on my bed, where inside he had written in rose petals “I Love You”. I fell down on my knees and cried. And in return, that same night I drove to his house in the middle of the night, and I lined up little toy cars from his front door to his car, where I had written on his drivers window “I Love You Too”; he drove around with the window up for weeks. Or the time I attempted to recreate Shutter in our apartment to surprise him when he came home (we had had to miss it that month); he immediately changed clothes and we danced around our living room for hours, and he thanked me for months afterwards. Or the time I came home on Valentines Day and he had completely transformed the living room- bunches of my favorite flowers hung from the ceiling, scattered around the furniture and floor amongst hearts, chocolates, and a million love notes he had written.
Such fantastic and beautiful memories. I’m so grateful to own them.
We truly had great respect and admiration for each other. So upon hearing my recent story, Keven made me promise him that I’d never let anyone talk me into anything ever again. He’s right- I’ve to learn from my mistakes or I’m bound to find myself back here; and I’m too smart and have worked too hard for that. He also told me that my own decisions, the ones that come from the deep recesses of my cracked heart, have given me a beautiful life that most people wouldn’t be brave enough to live.
But his best compliment was when he said I was truly beautiful, ‘because so very much of it came from the deep inside me, that it seeped to the outer”.
And, with other folks, in the grand tradition of the character that Zach is, he gave me the most bizarre “compliment/or was it”: You’re perfect just as you are Kendra, because you have the body of a model, the style of a designer, the demeanor of royalty, and the mouth of a sailor.
thanks? Typical ‘endearingly weird’ Zach. Aww.
Either way, weirdos, exes, best friends, and old lovers, I’m  grateful for the people in my life right now. I can’t wait to meet Pris’ Roy. (We get to make out.)
And I can’t wait for my new hair, my new ballet class, my new semester, and this new play.
current mood: enveloped.
current music: derby – don’t feed the bear

Friday, August 12, 2011

friedrch nietzsche

"I can forgive you for what you did to me, but how can I forgive you for what you did to yourself?"

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

the long way back

Well it looks like Ive more lives than a Buddlist cat.
I’m gonna do it. Pris. Opening in November, its already sold 800 tickets, and upon hearing the news, my father insisted I go through with it. It’s the female lead role, and my father is convinced it will help my psyche. He is only vaguely aware of my director’s version of Pris: a sex doll and aspiring ballerina; and he’s enrolled me in a ballet workshop to brush up on the skills I learned as a girl. Though he is still deciding whether or not I’m to take a sabbatical this upcoming semester.
I must say, hanging out with my pops has been pretty rad-tastic. Its nice to speak Spanish again, and to listen to his French-accent-soaked Spanish. And for the first time, I don’t feel like a burden. He is happy for the company, and the break from his usual long work hours. He is a quirky guy, but we’ve found we’ve loads in common and I’m more my father’s daughter than my mother’s victim than ever before.
And though I’m not comfortable with the idea, I’m now officially ‘on medication’, and I’ve to admit it is helping to stabilize me. Apparently, I might have been misdiagnosed as Borderline; the problem could be something else, something far more easily managed with the drug cocktail of uppers and sedatives the new doctors mixed for me. Shaken, not stirred.
And the new team of professionals has enlightened me as to why this happened in the first place. Apparently, because during the breakup, my ex seemed to be one way in person, and then quite another over the phone, etc, it REALLY threw me off. They said all this that happened to me was my frail psyche’s response to the psychological shock of someone’s mismatched behavior. It makes sense, as throughout my life, I’ve had mini versions of what they’ve deemed a ‘nervous breakdown’ any time someone’s actions and words contradict each other. You see, *I* am always upfront and honest and direct; what you see is what you get; my heart is too big for my brain to betray it, and so I always come from a place of empathy. So it really rattles my universe when other people act differently; my brain simply cannot compute it. I was receiving mixed messages and not knowing how to act; feeling abandoned, feeling lost and confused.
See? Very little to do with my ex himself. I just really did. not. understand.
So, that is their explanation for my downward spiral. Learning this has been essential in my recovery. Its been such a rough road, and while I’m still on thin ice with myself, I can see where my path evens out.
Eckhart Tolle said: Suffering cracks open the shell of ego, and then comes a point when it has served its purpose. Suffering is necessary until you realize it is unnecessary.
And I’ve a great support system taking care of me right now. Of course, Agata’s been an angel, a guide, a shoulder, an ear, a mother, a best friend. When I cry to her that I’m humbled by all she’s doing for me, she simply responds with “I know you’d do the same for me, because you already have.” She deserves a fucking medal.
And I’ve even found myself a bit surprised. Keven has stepped out of the woodwork and into the compassionate role, and the familiar comforts of his beautiful face, incredible voice, and gentle heart have served as soothing reminders of the beauty of the human soul, especially his. He sent me some songs written about me, and his idyllic voice wrapping around nakedly honest lyrics felt like the warm blanket I needed. And Ryan’s steadfast loyalty and kind empathy have acted as a gauze, slowly absorbing the blood from this broken heart.
Folks  like Lorissa, Calle, Colin, Jon, Gamin, are like balm.
While it IS tough and mildly humiliating to not be allowed to make your own decisions, right now I am just grateful to the Universe that I’m not alone during this. Like I told Ryan, I’ve been navigating Life all my own for 28 yrs, and look where it got me; it might be time to let someone else take the reins for a while. But in the meantime: Pris, ballet classes? Here I come. (Just give me a minute though).

Current mood: all too human
Current movie: its kinda a funny story

Monday, August 8, 2011

razor rain, silver lining

i was offered the part of pris for a stage version of blade runner spin-off. shes a mix between siouxie sioux and livethroughthis' courtney love.
two months of rehearsals starting september.

but i dont even know where i'll be next week, much less in september.

also, ive learned: agata is the best person on the planet; my father is a gentle hero.

still i sigh.
why me, universe? love makes my world go round. pseudo replicant or not, i cant cut off my empathy, my emotion. and agata says thank goodness for that.

current mood: small
current music: my dad likes AM radio

finally broke me.

well it got worse.
agata came over with the mobile crisis doctors, and after they looked around and listened to me sob for an hr and a half, i was taken into the psych ward. there, they gave me meds, a bed, and diagnosed that i  was in the middle of a nervous  breakdown. i had become severely depressed and had lost  the ability to take care of myself.
listen, i know its very little to do with him specifically. but when Love is your lifeblood, and it gets sucked out of you, with nothing left except mouthfuls of venom, unaddressed  hopeful implications, zero communication, even less than an iota of compassion,  utterly and completelty ABANDONED, how much can a gal like me, who loves  deeply and with her whole heart do?

sweet agata called and  emailed my dad who drove up the next day, and i was signed away to his care. im currently in a hotel, unsure of what the future holds, as im not allowed/capable of making decisions for myself.

this is really sad. a disporportion reaction, yes. especially cos it all could have been lifted by just the tiniest sliver of empathtic love.

i promise ill always act from loving kindness, cos i wouldnt wish this on anyone.
please keep me in your thoughts.

current mood: broken, vacant, embarrassed.
current music: (though its merely in my head) hum - stars

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

it is possible to unravel even at rock bottom

i'm in bad shape.

i've stopped functioning. really. its never been this bad for me.
currently agata is on her way over to determine whether or not i need to be hospitalized. again.

the thing is, when Love is your lifeblood, this is what it comes to.
i can do ANYTHING as long as that partnership love is in my life. but he doesn't even want to talk to me. so all the life has been completely sucked out of me.
im miserable. im embarrassed. im numb to everything except this choking pain.

so yeah. this is a new low for me.

Sunday, July 24, 2011

as my bones exhale sulfur

Well, folks. Cancel your subscription to The World According To Kendra.
Cos the lessons learned these past few days have shaken and changed me so much I feel they've knocked the marrow out of my bones.

Its clear I've been in a debilitating amount of emotional pain recently. So much so that a few nights ago I even had a dream that someone was taking a steel hammer to my jaw, and shattering all my teeth.

But I've been smart enough (and lucky enough) to have filled my life with enriching resources, to pick me up when I've fallen, to carry me when my strength has left me. So I've come to a plateau in My Grief over my Failed Love: I've finally Let Go.
I spoke with my Angel Mother, whose Reality and whose Perspective shook me so intensely that I felt rattled within my own skin.
Then I met Agata's mother, whose kind eyes, warm food, and open embrace moved like waves of Healing over my bleeding heart.
Then I accompanied Agata to an AA meeting, where the topic that day was: breakups. The speaker had 10 yrs of sobriety, and his partner of 9 yrs came to him 2 months ago to tell him she was leaving him for another man; he had never seen it coming. This story was not at all similar or even remotely parallel to my current situation, but the Pain, the Agony, that he spoke from- that look in his eyes as he told his story- I cried that entire hour. I sobbed on Agata's shoulder the whole time. I cried so hard I didn't even realize I was sweating.
When I went home, the intensity of the emotion and the Change and the Lessons and the Grief and the Shame and the Sadness and the Agony and the Pain and the Regret and Humiliation and all of it all at Once hit my system so hard I vomited and sweated for the next two hours. My body was literally releasing my failure from me.

Now, I see myself as I was in that relationship. I see what the disorders did, I see what I did. I see Love, I see Reality, I see it all now. And I see why it had to end.
I still feel a sorrow so deep it rivals the Grand Canyon. I still feel a loss so great it blinds me.
But if I've learned anything, Everything happens for a reason.

current mood: humbled.
current music: beach fossils - daydream

Saturday, July 16, 2011

licking my wounds while i bite the bullet

it feels like my heart is in my throat
and its swallowing itself

i am calm on the outside
i am a constant choke

Friday, May 6, 2011

let that (hay)fever play

Epic Fail #783: How I spent my cinco de mayo: Last night I burned my tongue on some organic shepherds pie that I was too eager for. I readjusted my approach and started again in the middle, since it was still frozen there. Sad little pathetic life.

But really, I was home because I am busy with prep work for the Hay Cake project. It's tomorrow, ya know, the Sheep Shearing/Kendra's 'Happening'. I originally started this post with: 'Tomorrows the big day', but I've found I've been having quite a few Big Days lately. If I step away from the BPD view, life has generally been quite well recently. Its just those moments. God they feel unbearable and toxic, like my body is poisoning itself from the inside out. I'm not too adept at finding my way out of them just yet and so it just feels like a very precious drowning death.

And of course, in honor of tomorrow's Opening, I can feel my Borderline Personality Disorder on full blast. I'm dissociating quite a bit even as I type this, and each sentence is a struggle to finish on the same subject it started with. Does that even make sense? I 've lost the ability to tell.

My mind is spinning with BPD diagnostic criteria #9: transient, stress-related paranoid ideation.
Here is a glimpse:
The room is spinning, even as I grip the keyboard for stability, and everything around me is an obscure version of itself.
Last night I had dreams about spiders and all this morning its felt like they are crawling in my veins.
My face is a brief and false advertisement.
I'd like to pour myself the stiffest drink my stomach can stand and lay on my back and feel like a good tired Catholic. Because its not even 9am.
And all I want is for my future husband to lean over me and look me dead in the eye and say 'the fact that you're insane only proves that you're my best friend'.

I seem to be unravelling in time to the music.

current mood: tangled
current music: bright eyes - the calendar hung itself

Thursday, April 28, 2011

pour like water, over me

Brace yourself for the impact: I've been dating.
That's right.
But its not because any of the boys in this city finally grew enough balls to begin approaching girls, and I'm therefore on the receiving end of genuine flirtation. No, it is much more imposed than that. After months of fighting back the loneliness, and after sitting through several convincing monologues by web-savvy gal pals, I decided to give online dating its fair shot.
The result has been a handful of responses and sporadic 'dates'. Nothing too significant yet, but I must admit that after years of being ignored by boys in public, the attention (even via internet) feels good and has contributed to a slight lift in my self- esteem.

Other than that, I've been quite frazzled by school.
Under the tutelage of a dynamic and connected teacher, the Hay Cake has developed into an entire project, now titled "I Can't Have That", with different 'manifestations': the cake itself, a performance art piece I completed just this Tuesday (do you want more detail on that? lemme know), a slide show installation and a few photographs. My teacher's enthusiasm for my idea and its cathartic concept has fueled a fire, and as a result, I've been working hard at it. A film crew showed up at my studio at school to film me working on the idea, and then a taped interview where you best believe I cried on camera and they thought it was brilliant.
My clay tree is coming along, but once more in the kiln resulted in some breakage that was too sad to photograph and post here.

I've a piece titled "Mother May I" at California Conference for the Advancement of Ceramic Arts. Which means I spent the day today driving my piece up to Davis to install it in AAU's designated log cabin. Of course, ceramic SUCKS and my sculpture cracked nearly everywhere and I was forced to hot glue it together. (In art school, it is a giant faux paus to hot glue your piece together. At the very least, you are to use a high-quality epoxy. I, however, did not have the patience or desire.) Needless to say, I was embarrassed and abandoned the piece as soon as it was dry.
I drove home lonely and despondent. Somewhere along the 2-hr drive, past the produce stands, empty fields, and boys named Clint, I stopped for gas in a tiny little town called Dixon. The wind was blowing intensely, but I felt still and strong against it. I didn't want to leave. I lingered. I lingered another hour. Dixon, CA. Who knew.
On the way home I listened to music with violins and it felt appropriate.

I came home to an empty apartment. Again. But waiting for me in my computer were the photos taken from my performance art piece. With smeared makeup, blood running down my fingers only to be mixed with the food coloring staining my hands, and thrashing about on the floor. I felt sick and sad, looking at these images. When I looked in the mirror just now, I noticed the bruises along my arms and hips- evidence of a performance gone right.
Another coughing, shaking fit on the floor of a spinning bathroom.

current mood: sore.
current music: bright eyes - spent on rainy days

Monday, April 18, 2011

art student weekend adventures

A couple of times a year, San Francisco has the brilliant idea to host a phenomenon called "OpenStudios", where self-declared artists collectively open their studios to the public, in hopes of luring in the elite and selling their wares.
What ACTUALLY happens, though, is that a bunch of mediocre-at-best crafters play host to droves of bored hipsters that shuffle in in search of free 2-buck-Chuck and plates of cheese and stale crackers, who engage in idle banter of feigned interests.

Nevertheless, as an art student, it is my scholastically creative duty to attend these masquerades. I went by my lonesome, armed solely with a great outfit and red lipstick, and hoped for the best.
What a grave disappointment. It’s all these little spaces with these so-called artists practically stacked on top of one another and they are all for the most part making crap.
The art was mainly 2-D, and horrible; shallow, contrived, and redundant. I felt pained and depressed.

The only highlight was when I quietly wandered into the space of an older gay painter named Paul, who let me browse inconspicuously but stopped me on my way out his door. He liked my look and is in the middle of a series on alternative models, whose seemingly effortless style actually takes great care to execute: Could he paint me?
I was so humbled, I said yes and gave him my email address.
Later, a photographer 'artist' said I had interesting eyes and asked me to pose for her. A couple flashes later, I left.

On the way home I took my sad little self to the movies to see Meet Monica Velour. I had been looking forward to it and it did not disappoint. I drank a giant diet coke and felt a little better.

Lesson? When all else fails, turn to limited-release indie films about aging porn stars.

current mood: cynical
current music: arcade fire - rococo

Monday, April 11, 2011


I believe its been quite some time since I last posted. I've been working away, attempting to adjust to the changes in my life.
I quit my crafting studio job after my pre-teen 'boss' pulled me into the back office to yell at me for some ancient crime that never existed. And so I've begun working for the couple whose wedding I coordinated. It seems I am their "Personal/Admin Assistant". I spent the past week crafting and planning a baby shower I wasn't even invited to. Weird. We'll see where this goes. But they're cool kids and they've strong connections in Portland, which is where I see myself in two years, post- graduation.

I've begun work on a new clay piece. It's a 2-foot-tall dying tree. Instead of fruit, it will bear tiny hearts with text on them. Here's a picture of the raw clay form, before its even fired.

Other than that, I don't have a lot to say. I'm feeling vacant.
I've beautiful friends that make lovely appointments to grace me with their presence. School is going well and I've been asked to participate in a clay art show at UC Davis. My Art has never been more validated, and the creativity is easily accessed these days.
But my loneliness is palpable. It surrounds me like a stiff atmosphere, making it hard to breathe. I look around at the deserted wasteland that is my love life, and it feels like my insides are choking on themselves.
I'm so ready to meet The One, to be in Love. Where is he? And would he love me? I'm not the most stable of gals, and I have secrets that would drive away the bravest of men.

I can only sigh and hope I don't end up with a houseful of cats and doilies.

current mood: lonely
current music: the constantines - you are a conductor

Monday, March 21, 2011



So, I've not told you guys specifically about one of my classes. Mainly because its meant so much to me so far, that I would be heartbroken, devastated, and embarrassed if it didn't end up working out. BUT IT DID, so now I can openly share the project with you.
Here's what I'm talking about:
Site Specific Public Art Installation
I've been trying to get into this class for a couple of semesters already, and each time the class was either 'not offered in the fall' or 'cancelled for the semester'.
 At last, this semester was my chance! The "site" that offered itself to us as inspiration was th San Francisco Zoo. I was ambivalent about it at first, feeling more excited to be taking the class than bonding with and being inspired by zoo animals.
But it turns out the SF Zoo has a "Children's Zoo", which features its own little "Family Farm"! If I've not expressed it enough on this here blog, I'll say it again: it is my dream to move to Portland and live on a farm, with a dozen or so chickens, a few goats, and a vegetable garden. This Family Farm was a rural oasis for me! I fell in love with the goats there, who are just as friendly but far less invasive than dogs. The pigs they've there are adorable, the donkeys are sweethearts, and the sheep are charismatic. 
I knew I wanted to spend as much time there as possible, but I didn't have any ideas for any installations. How could I be so in love but not inspired? Oh it broke my heart as I listened to my classmates pitch their highly conceptual ideas to our teacher, while I stared blankly at him and said "I only know I love the goats". He encouraged me to listen to and follow my heart. Well-versed in this practice, in one hour, I HAD IT: I wanted to make a giant 4-ft tall cake out of hay for these goats! 
My friend Ginelle said: "Oh its like you're trying to address the wedding cake you never had."
I immediately broke down in tears, in front of her, the teacher, the class, everyone.
My teacher looked at me and said: "This means you HAVE to do it."

Well I developed the idea further, made my presentation board, and just this past Friday, we stood up in front of a SFZoo committee and pitched our ideas. I was nervous, my BPD acted up, and all I remember is a blurry view of this panel of judges. 

Well guess what? THEY SAID YES. And not only that, but they want to make it coincide with their big sheep-shearing event in May- the one that's in the NEWSPAPER and on TV. I couldn't believe it. I was blown away, I was humbled, I was dizzy. I texted nearly everyone I knew!

It means so much to me to be able to continue to hang out on this farm, play with the goats, smell and work with the hay. Maybe it makes me a weirdo, but I'm a happy weirdo, so THERE.

current mood: happy weirdo.
current music: the whites - keep on the sunny side

Wednesday, March 16, 2011


I did it.
I passed.

I presented my MidPoint Review, my Artist Statement, my Final Project Proposal, my Previous Work, to a committee of judges that have never met me or seen my work and I PASSED.

Though my Disorder has been acting up all over the place, and I've indulged in more complusions and coping mechanisms than I'm willing to admit, its all over. The Chaos that was making itself at home in my life is now over.
And I can't believe I did it. I made it through.

The wedding was a success.
My thesis paper was written, reviewed, bound, turned in on time.
I passed MidPoint Review.

Fuck yes.

Does this make me a legitimate Artist? I can't say. But it is incredibly validating to have Art Professionals call you a 'breath of fresh air', and then email you thirty minutes later, telling you they want to work with you and help you actualize your final project.

I am humbled. I am grateful. I am exhausted.
But at least I feel like I can breathe again. And Borderline Personality Disorder or not, I aim to seek Balance now. That elusive son a bitch won't escape me this time.

current mood: lifted.
current music: m. ward - helicopter

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

my own bell jar

I can't believe I got through it.
The wedding was a week ago and it was very nearly flawless. The bride used words like 'astounding' and 'gorgeous'. I was a big hit, and I couldn't have asked for a better outcome for my very first wedding. Glorious.
Of course, the sheer importance of the event made my Borderline Personality Disorder act up. As a result, my emotions were on such an intense neurological fritz that I dissociated so badly I barely remember a moment of it.
I am looking forward to seeing the pictures.

My sanity is slowly slipping away.

A few days later, my Midpoint Review paper was due. For all intents and purposes, consider an art school's Midpoint Review as a thesis: we're to write and have professionally bound two color copies of a document that includes an autobiography, an artist statement, a Final Project Proposal, sketches, a Portfolio, inspirations, influential artists, a timeline, and a resume.
Another intensely stressful event. More dissociating.

March 15th is the grand Midpoint Presentation: a 10-minute speech given in my studio space, surrounded by my 'best work', to a panel of Academy of Art University judges. Followed by a question-and-answer session. Then I'm to wait patiently outside my studio while they discuss whether or not I am allowed to 'pass' onto the next (and more independent and conceptually elevated) level of my art school career.

My sanity is running away from me at lightening speed.

So enjoy the tales of a struggling art student, who can barely remember what she did 5 minutes ago or why she did it, who's going through the most crucial phase of graduate school, and who, as a response to being unable to recognize herself from one moment to another, is now sporting pixie-short dark purple hair.
and henna.

current mood: away.
current music: evelyn evelyn - evelyn evelyn

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

you can see it on my face, under my eyes

Tomorrows the Big Day: the Wedding.
I've done everything I can to make sure things go smoothly. I'm a wreck.

Tomorrow is the wedding.
Friday I've class from 8am-3pm, then work from 4pm-midnight.
Saturday Lorissa and I are taking an embroidery class.
Sunday I've a company meeting to attend at work.
Monday my thesis paper is due to the Academy and their committee of judges.

I'm burning the candle at both ends and holding up a lighter in the middle.

Kill me now or forever hold your peace.

current mood: spent.
current music: none.

Monday, February 14, 2011

singles awareness day

Romance, who loves to nod and sing,
With drowsy head and folded wing,
Among the green leaves as they shake
Far down within some shadowy lake,
To me a painted paroquet
Hath been- a most familiar bird-
Taught me my alphabet to say-
To lisp my very earliest word
While in the wild wood I did lie,
A child- with a most knowing eye.

Of late, eternal Condor years
So shake the very Heaven on high
With tumult as they thunder by,
I have no time for idle cares
Through gazing on the unquiet sky.
And when an hour with calmer wings
Its down upon my spirit flings-
That little time with lyre and rhyme
To while away- forbidden things!
My heart would feel to be a crime
Unless it trembled with the strings.

-Edgar Allen Poe

current mood: alone
current music: the brian jonestown massacre - open heart surgery

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

"I'm too busy creating masterpieces"

I've not been posting because I'm crazy busy with:

-The Wedding. Yes, I jumped at the chance to be a Day-Of Coordinator, but it seems like I'm more of a Month-Of Planner. SO MUCH work to do! I'm thrilled.
-School. MidPoint Presentation is coming up, and I've to make and finish work, write an autiobiography, an Abstract, and a Final Project Proposal, and submit it all to a commitee in a presentation that's sure to make my BPD act up.
-Work. The Director of Creative Development stops for no one!

I'm spending long hours in my studio at school, creating and forgetting to eat.
I'm spending other long hours organizing the bride's life and trying to delegate wedding responsibilities.
I'm spending hours in bed, attempting to sleep but being too wrapped up in the Poe, O'Connor, Oscar Wilde and Valley of the Dolls that makes up my nightime reading material.

Wish me luck for the wedding- Feb 24th!
Will do my best to keep you posted on artistic genius in the meantime.

current mood: burning candle
current music: lykke li - i'm good, i'm gone

Sunday, January 30, 2011

if these hips could talk...

I've not been on a date in over a year.
Today I (finally) watched Amelie and I ended up crying for 3 hours. Because yes, I want someone that GETS me like that. Yes, I live in my head and my imagination; I live a quiet life, where rather than tooting my own horn, I always trying to get others to see their own potential, their own magnificence.
And I fall in love with people I don't know.
Though I stocked up at the farmer's market earlier, I went to visit my love-at-the-co-op-grocery-store today. I felt that I really wanted to see him. He granted me a hardy 'hello', but that was about it. Oh dear. I had to text Lorissa for a reality check- is this my BPD acting up/imagining things? Or is it real?
I can't know.
So Momma needs a margarita.

current mood: empty wanderlust.
current music: landon pigg - falling in love at a coffee shop

Saturday, January 29, 2011

trick question

Either this is the best hangover of my life, or I am still drunk from last night.
WHAT. I think its the latter:) Cos, I mean, Lorissa and I know how to DO IT UP.
I drank and danced and chatted and drank and danced some more. It was EPIC.

And today I am in love with the lad that rings me up at my local co-op grocery store. He's invited me to see his band play on Friday and I'm anxiously planning my outfit. I don't even know his name (though we've 'shared a moment' over our mutual love of Earl Scruggs), but I am already imagining our life together: I mend his sweaters while he recommends authors that I actually like, and we hold ice cream hands and make waterfalls out of unicorns. Because you see, I know my Borderline Personality Disorder is alive and kicking with this one, and it's rendering me utterly useless. Like a Love Coma.
Hmmm, Love.
the saddest girl to ever hold a martini....

i painted my nails turquoise again.

current mood: charred deja vu
current music: calexico - alone again or

Friday, January 28, 2011

All In A Row

So, I did it.
I booked my very first wedding as an official Coordinator. It feels AWESOME to talk about someone as "my bride".
"Oh, I just got an email from my bride"
"I've a meeting with my bride"
"My bride had a few questions about that"

It just feels so right. The wedding's on February 24th (yes, a Thursday), and I'm overwhelmed and nervous and slightly freaked out. I've never done this before, and aside from Lorissa, none of my friends have been through the process.
So I'm turning to Lorissa for nearly everything. INCLUDING fun nights out to let off some steam.

Last night Lorissa and I went to Bingo night at The Knockout and had loads of boozy girly fun. We kept getting so close to winning, when we'd hear someone shout out 'Bingo!'. Damn. We even bought extra drinks for extra bingo cards. ;)
Then for the grand finale, the Blackout Round, guess who won? YOURS TRULY. That's right! I won the whole thing! I earned myself a drink ticket and a bottle of bubbles, both put into use right away.

Tonight I host my first ever themed Open Crop night (Queen of Hearts theme), and I'm nervous about it. The wine should help, though. As well as the scheduled session of SkeeBall (my most favorite arcade game ever) at the Buckshot nearby immediately after.

current mood: party.
current music: heart - barracuda

Thursday, January 20, 2011

"Memory, you are two-faced."

Yesterday was rough. I dissociated a LOT. You see, I had an 'impactful' therapy session and the rest of the day was spent attempting to wrangle my psyche.
But man those dissociations were brutal. I spent a couple hours perusing books and movies at the library, and even exchanged texts with Agata for recommendations. I chose approximately 3 DVDs and 5 books. By the time I got to my car, and Agata asked what I had chosen, I couldn't remember. It had only been a couple of minutes. The selections were in my purse in the backseat, so I was trying to answer her text without too much digging, but I could not for the life of me remember even one of my choices. It was embarrassing, it was scary. Where had I been? What else had I done?
When I got home, it was weird to look at the books and movies seemingly for the first time.
Sloane Crosley's I Was Told There'd Be Cake
Oscar Wilde's An Ideal Husband
The Green Bride Guide
Maya Angelou's Even The Stars Look Lonesome
Anti-Bride Guide
DVDs: The Pickwick Papers
The Grapes of Wrath
Even now, I had to find the stacks of books and movies. I had forgotten again.

One thing I can't seem to forget lately is Brian Chambers, legendary boyfriend of all time...
We'd spend our nights drinking red wine, making love, falling asleep holding hands. In the morning, he would wake me gently by playing an Iron & Wine record. When my eyes opened, he would be sipping coffee, reading the newspaper. He read all the important stuff and I would read our horoscopes. We'd spend the day in Dolores Park, high on each other.

That was the life...
I would instantly marry the man that could make me feel that way again. Especially because my last relationship was such an emotional prison, not allowing me to have any feelings. For someone who's biologically wired to feel things more intensely, it was utter, constant, torturous, HELL.

And I was thinking this morning: Being at this place in my life, where I craft constantly, attempt to cook, hand-grind my coffee beans (Brian even used to roast his own beans), shop locally, spend hours at the library (he was a librarian), listen to copious amounts of The Shins, Nathan Wiley, and Nick Drake, it all reminds me of Brian Chambers. He'd fit so perfectly into my daily life. For example, He or someone like him wouldn't mind me waking up before dawn to write in my journal, and he wouldn't mind my fuck-ups in the kitchen (he'd probably get a kick out of it). He wouldn't mind being woken up by the sound of me hand-grinding the coffee; he'd probably dig the aroma, and he'd smile to himself that I want to do it in the first place. He wouldn't mind staying in bed while Iron&Wine plays softly in the background until I'm done writing; it'd probably lull him back to sleep. And when I'd be done pouring my soul into my journal, if I snuggle back under the covers, he wouldn't mind if I was fragile and if my face was wet with tears; he'd ask softly 'how'd it go today?'. He'd be wise enough to know that they're MY feelings, MY issues, and that I wasn't going to blame him or hold him responsible. And he'd be open enough to acknowledge when something WAS him, was US, just like he did in real life.
It's a shame we met when I was still too naive. Today he is a married man and a new father, and I sigh and wish him the best.

current mood: nostalgic
current music: calexico - wash

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

done and done.

Awesome thing #1: Remember my uber single-gal Thanksgiving? When I worked on an avant-garde surrealist music video? Well the results are IN!
Here is the video:

Awesome thing #2: Here is an email I recieved today from my coworker:
Hey Kendra,

So a guy came in and he loved the cards you made for display (and bought one for $4.50...the mi amore one). He is looking for a Chinese New Year card and was wondering if you could make one that is similar to the two we've made in the store, but larger (probably A7). He'd really like you to do it and put your own spin on it. What do you think? Is this something you'd be interested in doing?


Awesome thing #3: I am teaching my VERY OWN workshop Feb 6th! Yes, its for the Queen of Hearts Wreath! The most awesome part is that I made a sign to put near the wreath that read: "make this wreath at our Queen of Hearts Workshop". Before the glue was even dry, a gal came in, saw the wreath, and promptly paid her money to reserve her spot for the workshop. Oh! I was so excited!

Awesome thing #4: A distressed bride wandered into the store in a search for place cards and photo decor. Seeing the confused look on her face, an employee asked to help. Upon hearing the word 'wedding', I was called over. The bride and I got to talking and I guided her through some color choices, gave her some suggestions, and we got along and chatted for a while. Long story short, she's wanting to hire me to be her wedding coordinator! And she's willing to PAY ME! I'm not sure I can do it (semester begins soon), but I'm honored, flattered and blown away to be asked at all.

Awesome thing #5: Tomorrow all my crafts debut for sale exclusively at Cherish under the pseudonym Peanut Butter & Jealous! I've my very own SKU! (barcode set-up in computer).

Awesome thing #6: Friday Lorissa and I are going to try to make our own candles. I also want to try to make my own body lotion! candle making + wine = homesteadin' party!

Awesome thing #7: Everyone likes my new hat.

current mood: awesome.
current music: swinging blue jeans - hippy hippy shake

Sunday, January 16, 2011

right at this moment

After an emotional upheaval with Agata that left me in tears all weekend, I'm currently sitting in my apron, painting clothespins and watching Antiques Roadshow.
And still crying.
With my inability to master my Disorder, my penchant for granny sweaters, and the fact that I'm about to sink into a library book about wedding etiquette FOR FUN, .... man I'm going to be alone forever.

current mood: despondent.
current music: evelynevelyn - eveyln evelyn

Friday, January 14, 2011

I'm in love

I've rediscovered the San Francisco Public Library!
You see, when you live in the city the public library tends to be crowded with homeless people, incompetent and bitter employees, and a faint smell of burnt crack. But the other day I took the long way home and saw a pleasant little branch nestled in the foggy outskirts. Surely this library would be cleaner and more mellow than the Main Branch right smack dab in the middle of the city? YES! It was! Why hadn't I thought of this before?! No need to purchase a cup of mediocre coffee to sit in a cafe with wi-fi and the relentless buzzing of the espresso grinder. No need to ask employees if they can look up a book for you. No need to PURCHASE anything, say amything, smile at anyone.
I stayed there, curled up in a comfy chair with a pile of books on varied subjects, for a few hours. I fell in love. I went back a couple days later and checked out a stack of books and a couple DVDs. That's right, DVDs! Hamlet and My Fair Lady. Free!

And though my life as an urban homesteader is going 'just ok', I do love it. My rosemary died pretty quickly. Apparently the sage it shared a pot with couldn't handle the loneliness cos it kicked the bucket shortly after.
In the meantime, I'm still up early to grind my own coffee beans in this:

Isn't it beautiful? It's my late grandmother's, on my dad's side, so its truly a French antique. Thanks Grandma.
I'm still using my plastic coffeemaker until I get my stovetop percolator, but at least in the meantime I'm making myself the best cup of coffee I've ever had. Then I drink it from this glorious mug/cup gifted to me by a classmate after I gushed over its charm.
 She said I would value it more than she did. I accepted it with a gasp, only slightly embarrassed (who gets blown away by a cracked mug? Jeez, Kendra!).

Also I tried my hand at baking my own bread, but the results were so sad. The yeast never rose! I've no idea what I did wrong. I used my friend Emily's fool-proof recipe, and after giving the ball of dough an additional 6 hours of a chance to rise, I texted her in desperation. She said to try and bake it anyway.

 It was 'Eh'. Edible, at least. I'm curious to see what would result from a rematch with the yeast. Yes, I will try again.

Also, after seeking advice for my failed rosemary, a coworker brought in a giant bagful of the stuff from her thriving garden. I've been chopping it into everything, and then I saw a recipe for and made my own rosemary salt!

Speaking of work love, I crafted this Queen of Hearts wreath out of tissue paper roses (some white ones painted red, get it?), leaves from painted paper towel rolls, and old playing cards cut into hearts.
My Droid photo doesn't do it justice, you see, because it was such a hit, they hung it and asked me to teach a workshop to make it, just in time for Valentine's Day. 
We'll see.

current mood: busy
current music: edward sharpe and the magnetic zeros -  home

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

'mornin y'all!

guess who totally woke up early and made whole wheat crumpets from scratch while listening to honky tonk bluegrass? Yeah Yeah it was ME.

then i sat down to a breakfast of warm crumpets, tea, and episodes of Whose Wedding is it Anyway?.

Life is pretty fantastic this morning.

current mood: full.
current music: ralph stanley - dixieland

Monday, January 10, 2011

look what i can do!

below are the reasons i've not been blogging:

stationary set (envelopes)

Stationary set

roll-out and hang-able to-do list

love magnets

more magnets

magnets are fun to make
i'm gonna try to see if i can't sell some of my wares on consignment at the store. it'd be under the name "Peanut Butter & Jealous".
Would you buy any of this stuff?

current mood: exhausted.
current music: flatline.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

welcome, 2011

At these times of the year I inevitably ask myself where I was in my life 1 year ago. And I wrote a whole post about how I used to be engaged and miserable, never able to fall in love with him but self-loathing enough to believe and take on all the crap he threw at me, blamed me for, accused me of.
But it was just so far removed from where I am in my life now. I could barely look at the pathetic, histrionic story, laid out in simple words on the screen. I deleted it and it felt good. And it feels good to write about it this way.

Instead I’d like to tell you about my New Year. It’s the beginning of a new decade, ya know.
Well I’ve so far given some hints as to the new direction of my life, but I’m about to spell it out for you. So far in my life, I’ve either been in a relationship or recovering from one. Those were the 2 modes I consistently found myself in. So this is the first time that I’ve been completely alone, with no one to tell me its my fault, with no one to judge my whims, with no one to hold me accountable. Its just me, just Kendra, facing Kendra, living with Kendra. And alllll this stuff started to surface.
I’ve become increasingly dissatisfied with modern living. I’m not on Facebook, I don’t Tweet, I don’t spend my time watching YouTube; none of it has ever made sense to me, its always all felt so far away. Blogging is one of my exceptions, because it feels like writing, and it feels like connecting. The rest of today’s ‘conveniences’ feel so foreign and uncomfortable. Its just never made SENSE to me.

The more I’ve been exposing myself to things that feed my soul, the more I realize my heart longs for a simpler time. So I’m going back to that. No, I’m not going hardcore like Tasha Tudor, but I now officially deem myself a Homesteader. Homesteading is embracing the domestic arts, seeking self-sufficiency, and going back to a simpler way of life, when things were done by hand instead of by pressing a button.
I’ve always been naturally inclined to domesticity, and when my classmate called me ‘little Suzy Homemaker wrapped in a layer of urban city girl’, it just all made sense, it all clicked.
I already put on an apron to do my daily chores and cooking tasks. I already compost. I already light my house mostly with candles than with the flip of a switch. And I already wake up at 530am to feed my chickens (sadly theres a big empty space where the chickens should be, and so instead I tend to the crafts and I write here).
It seems to me that in simpler times, people did things ‘properly’. Life was of a better quality when you spent your day growing your own vegetables and baking your own bread to share with friends and family. There is so much LIFE in the home. That’s where everything feels ALIVE to me, in the home, with friends, with family, with neighbors.

Also, I just want to be more in control of what I choose to embrace into my life. I want everything to be lovely. For me, this includes everything from the people I want in my life, right down to the ingredients I want in my food. I want to do it myself. I want to make it myself. I want to.
And I’m not alone.
Ever since a perusal at Green Apple Books where I was drawn to Made from Scratch, I’ve been highly inspired by everything Jenna Woginrich has accomplished all on her own at Cold Antler Farm. Since when is an aspiring farmer one of my heroes? Since 2011, thats when!

And here’s another post from a like-minded blogger (Maple Hill 101) who has an echoing New Years Resolution and says it more concisely and poignantly than I ever could.

By following my heart, it has lead me to a community where I at last feel like I am finally as I was made to be.
I am finally as I was made to be.

I said it at the beginning, and I'll say it again:
I'd give it all up to live in the Anne of Green Gables movie.
So follow me as I begin with the baby steps of growing my own herbs and baking my own crumpets.

“It’s a big time, folks”

Current mood: bliss.
Current music: cat stevens - the wind