Thursday, June 25, 2020

house




This is the house i grew up in. 
1990 Manhattan beach, CA my parents buy this shingly 1940s house on a culdesac street right up from the beach.
They were 38/39 years old. My mom had me at 36. Blair was born 2 ½ years later. 
Due to a large fuck up when my mom was in labor, Blair’s brain was damaged from lack of oxygen and she came out with a whole lotta cerebral palsy. 

i never felt proud to live in the house, it wasn’t a big nice house. It wasn’t a shithole, it was meh. Behind the nice orderly living room, it was random, disheveled. piles of paperwork/mail/magazines. bulky wheelchair equipment everywhere. It always felt unfinished, an incomplete home. 


After i moved back home after college, into my bare, former room space, I never decorated it. It felt pointless, makeup on a troll. I didn’t like anything about it, why try to make it look nicer, or worse- my own. No, I did not want this to be mine. 
Besides, I was going to get my own place eventually. 

we had become a family of isolationists, living together, existing in loneliness next to each other. Everyone's shells so strong. robotic tense purposeless interactions. it felt darker than I remembered.
[I now see that] 
My continuing to live there was like dropping myself into a bowl of (thicc) depression syrup, and every day not rescuing myself. letting myself flail around til I lost enough steam that I didn’t care about anything, let alone pulling myself out. 

What a damn bowl, my special weird home bowl, extra slippery sides. 


The other night I stopped over there to pick up my dog. It was the perfect time of eve, just past sunset pre-darkness, when you can really feel the ocean in the air. feel it in your inhales and your exhales. I was putting stuff in my car about to leave, and I stopped to look back at the house
And I loved the way it looked. Character and age, one of the last old beach houses that remain untouched. The red door has been there from the beginning, my dad built the deck when i was 6ish. I like how the shingles look now that the paint has worn off, it used to be dark gray. 
My mom says the reason the house is still standing is because all the termites are holding hands. 

It’s been almost 7 years since I’ve lived there. 
[I now see that] 
I had to step away from it to notice its value, to realize that there are things i actually like about it.  
If only they’d let me help with the inside.  






Wednesday, April 22, 2020

gather round, it's story time




one time, like 4-5 years ago I applied for a job at Hedley & Bennet, the colorful ampersand apron company headquartered in the arts district, where there's a zipline running through the warehouse office.

I had completed the first part of the application - making a one minute video and uploading it to youtube. I spent two days making a sweet graphic video that was awesome. I even made a little 'HB' cake pictured above for one of the slides and told them I'd bring it to them if they wanted.
It was met with enthusiasm and they asked me to come interview.

The interview was with a woman, their hr manager. It went incredibly well, we talked for an hour and it was all great and I've never felt more confident about an interview, etc.

she popped out of the room and came back with a packet. I was to complete this 200 question personality test, she leaves room.

she comes back in, gives me a second different (but same) 80 question personality test.

then a series of oddly basic "IQ" worksheets* where the woman sat in the room and timed me on her phone.
*like, drawing shapes

I was there for four hours.

the woman hugged me on the way out, told me she was excited, that I was perfect for the job, and that I'd be hearing from her very soon about next steps.

and then, never again.
ghosted my every message/email/phone call.
So, IT SEEMS MY PERSONALITY TYPE JUST DIDN'T CUT IT.
alas, I am less desirable on paper, for a FUN company.
or perhaps I matched my shapes wrong.

Anyway.
I started baking at Lodge later that year, so it all worked out as it should have
and I went back to the kitchen, where I rarely wear aprons.

muaha

just call me 'unprofessional slob with mediocre personality'




Monday, March 23, 2020

wow ............?


what in the heck
hi


everything is so strange and eerie and sad and frustrating. 

i'm not certain what brought me here tonight
but I do know that this quarantine is making me face myself 

it's very easy to be detached from yourself when you work so dang hard most of the day. pouring yourself into your work is a great distraction from actually looking at yourself. asking the hard questions, making the choice to rise to the challenge

and now I have this time, all this extra time that comes with the constant uncomfortable weirdness in the air. 
I want to know what to do. I want to know what project to start with. intense indecision coupled with endless distractions coupled with harsh self-criticism is not ideal. 


anyway. the nostalgia has been running high,
past trips and meals and good times, I've been looking at photos, sad happy, happy sad, trying to remember it all, relive the good stuff, tell myself there is so much more good stuff to come, eventually.


I baked at home for the first time in well over 2 years. (I would always always prefer baking at work)
I made the Loose Tea Yogurt Cake from Molly Baz, a solid lovely recipe. I knocked the sugar down to 200g, I wanna try it with coconut oil and olive oil. comes together so quickly, I was barely even frustrated making it in my apartment kitchen.
work/bakery baking and home/apt baking feel so different, and you know what, this was nice.