Wilderness Photographer’s Neighborhood

Frequently, I will fall madly in love with a piece of furniture that leaves even my closest friends & allies scratching their heads in confusion. Such was the case with my new desk. When I first showed it to my husband, I could tell he was skeptical, but knew better than to say so...When the glimmer is in my eye, just back away.

It was love at first glance on Craigslist for me: 

As you can see from the original photo, the desk & chair look a bit rough around the edges; the image itself was taken from inside a cramped storage locker of some sort. I knew, however, from first sight, we were destined to do great things together.

So I contacted the owner to arrange a viewing. We had several conversations over the course of a few days while attempting to fit our schedules together and I learned that the desk had belonged to his mother and he had the pity-able task of sorting out her belongings. I told him that I was a furniture maker and would take really good care of it...that I wasn't sure if I would refinish it, or leave it alone, but either way it would be loved. In a small way, I think these exchanges may have been a bit therapeutic for him, as I sensed he was perhaps a bit choked up on the other line.

I should mention, in addition to being incredibly kind, he was also extremely fair with the price ($45 for desk, chair, & mirror) and generously offered to deliver it to me for free.

So yesterday, when he showed up, it was an easy no brainer. I saw it on the truck, knew it was love, handed him the money, and brought it in the house. It was a little dirty from being in storage, but a little simple green & elbow grease was all it took to clean up nicely: 

While pulling out one of the drawers, my husband discovered hidden treasures had fallen into the back of it. I couldn't believe it - a beautiful desk AND hidden treasure! I had hit the jackpot. The best things we found: an antique bottle opener, stolen from a San Francisco hotel called The Raphael; a porcelain lid to a tiny box (this must have made her CRAZY trying to find it); an old silver swiss army knife? or nail cutter?; and best of all - a tiny gold skeleton key with a #2 on it.

Doesn't that just pique your sense of wonder & adventure like crazy???!!!! WHAT on earth does that key open and HOW will I find it?

Well, those questions may have to go unanswered. I plan to call the man today and offer him what I found...but I'm REALLY hoping he doesn't want them back, because I love them so much! I would like to keep them with the desk, either displayed behind my computer or in a shadow box on the wall. Each item has so much history and so many secrets to tell...If I am allowed to keep them, I know they will provide endless inspiration and possibly good luck while spending long hours feverishly writing at this desk.

 

When I was a desk jockey in San Francisco, I frequently changed my desktop image to something happy and tropical because I was, well - unhappy & cold. Now that I'm back in Hawaii, I wanted to put some images out into the internets, in case anyone out there is searching for warm, flowery, happy, tropical, Hawaii wallpaper:

As the pipe clamp blisters began to pop and heal on my hands, I knew I was in a race against myself to find my next gig in woodworking. I had just quit my job after I was put on a mandatory 72-hour work week schedule, which was neither safe nor necessary in the warehouse where I was a full time furniture maker. From my first taste of sawdust, I was hooked. I loved everything about it, especially the aches & pains associated with putting in a hard day of manual labor.

I had moved thousands of miles from my industrial Michigan factory roots, only to go to college and decide the blue collar life is what I wanted. I quit my job, only when it was obvious that it would either kill or permanently injure me...but it was still one of the hardest decisions I have ever had to make. Besides the fact that I love it, I realize now how wrapped up I was in the identity of being just one thing...In my working life, I have always had to have at least three side hustles going on and I've done everything from nude modeling, to being a maid, a well-paid executive assistant, an extra in movies, a make-up artist, to an apprentice sander in a woodshop.

When I call home to update my family, typically, whatever it is I describe is met with unconditional love & acceptance, even if there is a tinge of it not necessarily being understood. As a woodworker, I was finally able to align myself with an identity - one thing that I loved being and doing...and it was so much easier to explain that!

Predictably, when the job fell apart, I scrambled for any paying gig I could find on craigslist. As it turns out, it was a good time to be involved with film making and I even signed up for acting classes. Being involved in the process is as exciting as it seems like it would be - even the long hours of waiting, while being completely dressed to the nines for a 6:00 a.m. call time, shouldn't be exciting, but it still is.

Around this time I also found work as a fit model, working for a local design house. It's a job that pays very well but the work is inconsistent. Still, I am extremely thankful to have it, even if it is a bit weird for me to use it as an identifier at the dentist's office and have the receptionist squeal and ask me a bunch of questions about the job. That's a rock star moment, I'm not going to lie, but it's completely foreign to me to identify myself as "model" in any capacity...especially when "factory rat" was a closer signifier just weeks ago.

I'm not sure if all the discomfort in lacking a fixed occupation or identity squarely rests on my shoulders, or if I am reacting to other people's confusion when I try to explain, "Well, I'm actually a furniture maker, but I'm out of work, so I'm doing the acting and modeling thing, while looking for another woodworking gig." Who does that? I'm not sure if I even understand myself anymore.

In the long run, it's probably a good thing that I am so versatile & adaptable - I always have something relevent for any type of resume I'm creating for myself (and I have at least 3); but I long for the day when I have a short answer to the question, "So what do you do?" 

 

 

My first job was working as a make-up artist in my mom's cosmetic shop, which was located in "the dead mall" across the street from the mega-mall, where everyone respectable went to shop. The only folks who ventured into the dead mall were those with bizarre fetishes they wanted to try out in "public" without actually being too far out into the public sphere. My four hour shift was often punctuated with high school principals and construction workers in drag, trying out the new high heels they just scored at Payless; a 60 yr. old woman dressed as a naughty school girl being led around on a leash by her husband; your occasional flasher; foot fetish guy who would creepily make me show him the colors of "toenail" polish we carried and on & on...

Anyway, it appears that Vox is now the dead mall. Of course, I'm sure there are still many "respectable" folks on here...but more so, there are a lot just letting their freak flag fly. And I love it. You are my people and I'm happy to be back. But don't send me pictures of your penis. Thanks.

Hello Members of Girl Germs,

I am very sorry that I went MIA for so long and spammers have been allowed to contaminate this space. I'm back now and ready to lay the smack down. I nuked as many spam posts as I could find and members that are clearly robots...but I'm sure I didn't catch everything. If you see something that should be destroyed, please let me know so that I can take care of it.

Thank you so much for adding all this wonderful content to the group - I have enjoyed catching up with everything I missed and have learned a lot. Also, you have inspired me so much! I can't wait to start writing again!

xoxo,

Miss Scotch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Finances are about to get very interesting - with only one more month of certain employment left, a move to Hawaii, and two major world trips on the books for the second half of 2009...paying off my student loans may have to take a backseat to big fun and big adventure. If I were to continue at the current rate, I would be finished with them in five months...

But I am now planning a trip to Thailand with my best friend in November, to celebrate our joint 30th birthdays. The ticket from Honolulu to Bangkok is $784, but that's the biggest expense - I'm sure it will be cheap once we are there. We still have to sort out the details, but it's looking like it will be a two week adventure from November 12 - 26...she will fly from Cairo to Bangkok to meet me. With two weeks to kill, I would like to take a train to Phuket and another to Cambodia to visit Angkor Wat. I can't think of a better way for us to celebrate this milestone, than to meet half way, on the other side of the world, for a grand adventure. 

The second big trip will take place over New Year's Eve. Steve & I have our eyes on either Australia (for the Falls Festival) or a trip to Vietnam, where we would buy scooters and drive them up the coast from Ho Chi Minh to Ha Noi...I'm kinda leaning toward Vietnam...but I will gladly do either.

As for the loans...I have managed to really kick them in the pants this year, it's possible they may have to wait while I have a little fun!

 

 

 

 

Aloha & Happy Friday/pau hana...I wanted to share a couple of my favorite pictures from our Hawaii wedding this past August. I wasn't posting a lot around that time and was in the mode to be really private...but now I'm in the mood to share and I hope these images fill your heart with aloha, as they do for me:

 

 

OMG. I just ate a pound of poi, smuggled here from Hawaii this morning. Yummmmmmmmy.

 

 

According to Maxim magazine (yes, I have a subscription - don't hate):

In Ireland they say a pint should be drained in seven swigs, leaving seven foam rings (laces) inside the glass.

In honor of St. Patrick's Day, I decided to put this to the test. Unfortunately, I couldn't record my results until the experiment was completed and at this point, I may be too drunk to adequately convey the results.

Much of this experiment relies upon your definition of "swig" - I interpreted the data in "gulps" vs. "swigs." If taking one swig is filling the mouth and any number of gulps is allowed to finish the drink, then yes, I was able to finish a pint in seven swigs. However, if we are counting the number of actual swallows - or gulps - then my minimum number is 24.

As I said, I'm really too drunk to convey this information. Let's hope the pictures do this experiment justice:

Oh shit! They uploaded in reverse order, but that totally reminded me of what I wanted to say! The experiment was flawed from the beginning...when I got my crappy bottles of Guinness home, I discovered they are only 12 fl. oz., not the requisite 20 oz. that I needed to make a full pint.

Also, my beer didn't even make rings on the glass!

Therefore, I am calling this whole study flawed - I think I probably need to be in the company of real Irishmen, in Ireland, to be able to convey this data in it's purest form and to obtain the guidance I obviously need.

Having said all that - FUN! Yay! Happy St. Patrick's Day everybody! I'm going to continue on now and get lit! WAAAHOOOOO!!!

Oh, before I go, I should give credit to my faithful assistant on this project:

I have been staring at this blank page for about two minutes. Whenever I try to write about this topic, I find I cannot, because it is something very close to me, that affects me very much. I don't really know where to start, so I'm just going to write what comes out off the top of my head.

When we moved into our new place a year ago, I was immediately drawn to the filthy plot of hardened earth on the sidewalk outside our building. It looked like this when we moved in:

Well, actually, it looked much worse than that. The photo at left is after I took out most of the used plastic utensils, old batteries, orange peels, assorted rusty keys, nails, a single razor blade, and a condom wrapper. It took awhile to aerate the dirt and mix in a new layer of top soil. I then bought 500 worms to mix in and planted some flowers. Here is what it looked like after all that:

Unfortunately, those flowers did not prove hardy enough for the foot traffic coming in and out of the parking spot adjacent to the garden. The stone border got kicked to shit and the flowers trampled upon. After a little while of continuing to water & nurture the soil, as well as keeping my worms happy and removing trash daily, I decided it was time to upgrade the garden, which I refer to as "the bum patch" with some hardier succulents and ground cover plants.

 

My husband rented a car for us, and we visited Home Depot to procure my new babies. I briefly considered planting nothing but cactus, but my conscience wouldn't allow me to actually do so. Instead, I purchased aloe, some ground cover with pretty hot pink flowers, and a succulent of some varietal I could not name. Thus, I cultivated bum patch 2.0 and for about a week, it looked almost as though people were going to respect my little plot. There were still daily deposits of trash - lighters, cigarette butts, styrofoam coffee cups, and animal feces - none of which bothered me, as I have grown accustomed to picking these items out of the patch.

The real offense came this past weekend, when some godless fuck went to the trouble of digging out and stealing my fucking aloe plant. Now, I don't know the street value of aloe or if it can assist in the procurement of crack or crystal meth; nor do I know if this vermin simply decided to take my plant because it was there and not chained down...but really - REALLY - is that REALLY what we have come to as a society? That anything not nailed down is free for the taking? That it is okay to destroy someone else's property, just because it's unguarded?

I know that I should not be upset; I knew this could happen, even that it was highly likely to happen. I even gave my plants a little pep talk when I put them in the ground - I told them that they had been selected for a tough job, because they were the best of the best and I knew they could take it...but now I just feel bad. For humanity. For my stupid abducted plant, which for all I know ended up in a dumpster or a crack house. And it's hard for me to talk about this shit, because no one, EVER, should be this sensitive to the world and I hate that I am this vulnerable.

Here's the current state of my garden:

I will do what I can to maintain what is left, but in 75 days we will be gone and it will be totally on it's own. While the plants will likely go unwatered and the trash will undoubtedly pile up, my only hope is that the 500 baby worms I mixed in the soil - which are huge fatty's now by the way - will continue to be nourished from my efforts. I did the best that I could do for them, and for this tiny piece of urban landscape. What happens next is no longer in my hands.