A week or two back I was housesitting for my aunt and uncle who travel a lot.  Normally, when I do so, I earmark the cash I am to receive for something specific.  This is the way of one with no income.  No penny is left unaccounted for, even if that means I label $10 for miscellaneous purchases.  Well, this time around, my fee was set to cover the cost of a companion fair ticket to Portland with my mother to visit a friend of her’s in Vancouver, Washington.  And this all worked out quite splendedly in my mind until a couple days before leaving I received a call from my bank, Chase.  Chase wanted to alert me to some suspicious activity on my account.  And as a result I am now over $200 overdrawn.  Chase would not have caught that someone in Rhode Island was charging up a storm in my name even though I am in Oregon.  They aren’t that good and they don’t care that much.  They only noticed when my account became overdrawn.  If I lose money they don’t care.  If they lose money it becomes an issue.

allow me to take this moment to express my extreme displeasure at the demise of WAMU & the unwanted presence of Chase in my life.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!

Anyway, a chase representative called my house and mangled my given name (which is in no way an obscure name anymore) and then offered to cancel my debit card and send a replacement.  They then told me that when the charges were no longer pending and had cleared to file a claim for fraud to have the charges reversed.  Um, Hello.  You caught the fraud and brought it to MY attention.  Why do I now have to report it as fraud. The person on the phone then told me how long it might take for my new debit card to come in the mail and suggested that should I want access to my funds sooner I could go to a local branch and they could give me a temporary card….  Really?  A temporary card to access my negative account?  thanks.

I left for Portland the very next day with a few borrowed bucks in my wallet, very uncomfortable with the notion of carrying cash again for the first time In several years.  My mother paid our way through most things and I spent the majority of my money on a couple gifts and a whole lot of vegan junk food at Whole Foods.

Being Vegan on an impromptu trip anywhere is difficult.  Without proper planning you are left eating incidentally vegan food and bland food at omni restaurants with your companions.  On the spot, while there, I could have googled a bunch a vegan options, but sorting through them to find something convenient for my host was far too time consuming and stressful since I did not know the neighborhoods.  And since I was in Vancouver, not Portland, there was very little vegan variety.

Yes, we could have gone over the Columbia to eat, but I felt that that would have been an inconvenience for our host, who had not planned on having to drive me all over the northwest looking for food.  SO I more or less just snacked my entire time there and enjoyed the company of lovely ladies while they ate whatever they fancied.

Apart from being defrauded and lacking a proper meal I had a wonderful time.  It was the Chinese new Year.  Metal Tiger. RAWR.  My niece is a tiger.  I love her to death even though Tigers and Sheep/Rams/Goats are supposed to be enemies.  Anyway, after sitting around eating green beans during a whirlwind Dim Sum session at House of Louie, I finally got my way and we went to the Chinese Garden in Chinatown.  The line was loooong and the gardens were small.  The main attraction, of course, being the lion dance and such.  I really couldn’t care.  I just wanted to see the gardens and go have tea and some incidentally vegan vittles at the teahouse.

While the people were packed tightly around the inner ring  of the garden to watch the dancers I made my way through outer paths and rooms to take pictures and enjoy the sites as best I could.  And it was a good thing I did, because the minute the dancers were done, the crowds dispersed and flooded the rest of the gardens.  When I finally found my way to my conpanions they had yet to walk through the entire garden grounds (though THEY had been there before).  And after they had their fill of walking, and after saying I want to have tea a dozen times in the most polite manner I could muster, we FINALLY went over to the tea house… which was now booked with a waiting list of an hour because EVERYONE waited until after the dancers to come in.  My mother and her friends had already had tea there before so they weren’t very put out.

We left the LanSu Gardens and headed across the street to a gift shop where I was tempted to buy a cheaply made, but very pretty Chinese shirt.  But the crowds were really starting to get to me.  As we walked back to our car, they pointed out a couple places where we could have tea, but perhaps for the 6th time after leaving the Tower of Cosmic Reflections (teahouse) I had to remind them that it wan’t so much tea that I wanted, but the atmosphere.

Don’t get me wrong.  I had a good time, but I could have had a better time.  Our time spent anywhere was limited by the ability of my mother to endure lengthy activities and time on her feet, and her friends’ eagerness to move on from something that didn’t hold the initial wonder anymore.  So next time I am going to have to take events into my own hands and set out a list of things I would like to accomplish and things I would like to do.  Then maybe next time I’ll get to have tea, dammit.

Throughout our stay my mother’s asthma got worse and worse.  Eventually, on the morning of the day we were to fly home we had to take her to an urgent care clinic where they gave her a nebulizer treatment and a prescription for a steroid.  She wanted to avoid an ER because she feared being admitted and just wanted to go home.  So instead of any last day activities, we pretty much drove around the remote areas around Vancouver.  My mother fell asleep.  I wanted to too, having gotten just as little sleep as her, but someone had to stay up and talk to her friend who was driving.  Tiring of nothing to do, we got the the airport a little after 1pm.  We made our way to the gate and my mom fell asleep.  I them wandered the airport for the next two hours, bored out of my mind and eager to just be home.

I’m not angry with my mother for having asthma or cutting short everything we did because of it.  I’m angry with myself for not being independent enough to walk a couple blocks down from House of Louie to the Vegetarian House to get something to eat alone.  I am upset I didn’t go straight to the teahouse alone instead of waiting for my party of four to arrive after the crowds had descended on it like locusts.  I’m upset I wandered endlessly through the overhyped Powell’s Books while they had coffee and tea instead of hitting the streets foe more interesting sights.  I willingly shackled myself to events that weren’t really meant for me.  But the one thing I would have changes, is I would have taken my mother to a hotel instead of sleeping in a small apartment with an indoor cat and dog that inflamed her allergies and asthma.

Portland also made me feel fat and lazy.  Which I am.  Despite all the negative though, it was a good experience.  But how to put that in words is beyond me.

At least I walked away from that ugly unwelcoming beast of a book store with a used copy of a vegan cookbook I’d been sort of wanting but never finding in stock.

I asked a friend what he would do different if he had to live his teen years over.  And at first I thought he would reply with the oft repeated though seldom meant answer, “I wouldn’t change a thing.”  But much to my surprise he actually said he would change things.  his answer to this pointless query was that he would apply himself more instead of just skating by.

A weird thing happens to  adults triggered by a combination of regret and an increase in the perception of their own mortality.  They wish that they had taken advantage of the opportunities that were so ample in their youth.  I imagine a lot of people think that if they were to relive their youth there are mistakes that they wouldn’t have made.  They imagine they might have been better athletes, taken better care of their bodies, taken their academics more seriously or what not.  From the perspective of an adult who did none of those things, the opportunity to be able to have the chance to remedy that must be like a mystical cure-all for what ails them in their current life.  But I also imagine that if you are the type to be discontent in your life and wish you could change something, then no matter how you lived (or re-lived) your life you would still feel discontent.

So, what would I change?
Pfft.  Everything, of course.

Generally, when you enter into a contract as an individual it is not to your benefit.  I never liked having to enter a contract with a mobile phone company just so I could afford a phone.  And for a long time, if you used your phone a lot, it made since to commit to a contract in order to get a good rate.  But anymore now you can find a prepaid or pay-as-you-go plan that meets most of your needs.  The only real downside now is phone selection.  You generally aren’t going to be able to get the shiny new phones with all the cool features that makes the contract companies give their indentured clients.  But I’ve never had the latest and greatest anyways.  The other downside is you have to pay for your phone up front.  There are no specials that lower the cost of your phone because you don’t sing a contract.  For the most part this isn’t a problem.  50% of the prepaid phones on the market are exceedingly inexpensive… and generally boring.

So when I was housesitting a couple weeks back I misplaced my phone.  Upon returning home I had no clue that it was lost.  I use my phone very little.  I live so rural an in the mountains that I am 4 miles past where the last cell signals travel.  And since I don’t work and am not currently in school, I don’t spend very much time in areas with service.  So it wasn’t until some time later when I left the house to do the obligatory seasonal shopping that I realized my phone was missing.  I’m fairly certain that my phone remains at my aunt & uncle’s house.  And I would have called it, but the battery would have long since died.  So I took this opportunity to finally get a prepaid phone.  My contract is finally up with AT&T, something that is bittersweet. I’ve been with them since ‘03.  It feels weird not to be tied to them anymore.  But I also feel great to no longer be hemorrhaging money for services I barely use.

I bought a candybar phone.  “Candybar” is what they call flat phones with no sliders or anything.  And I went with t-mobile.  Not because they were much better than any other option, but because I wanted their phone.  I didn’t want any of the sad little phones that tracfone offered because the weren’t cute enough.  Services and apps don’t matter to me because, like I said, I don ‘t use my phone that much.  So the simple things like personal aesthetics are the only thing that matters to me.  And of course I want to keep my number.

This experience has made me feel giddy.  I love that I am free of the final contract I had binding me.  I like that I finally have a phone that is my choosing, not the most convenient/free offer from my phone company.  And of course, I love new things.

If I don’t find my old phone I’ll need to buy a new microSD card and regather all my old contacts.  Maybe one of these days I’ll actually write them down in an address book.

My Phone

my phone

it’s white/silver and lime green.  It’s not fantastic by current phone standards but I ♥ it.

I’m doing the pay-as-you-go program.  For me and the amount that I use my phone it is the most economical option.  It amounts to 10 cents/minute and the send txt messages.  5 cents to receive text messages.  There are some months where I might only use 10 minutes.  So since I’m in no way a power user, this is a good plan for me.  When I go back to school in the spring my usage will go up and when I get the fuck out of the Valley my usage will increase again.  But since I’m not bound to a contract, if I need to change my service I won’t experience any penalties.

I’ve been at a loss as to what to write about lately.  I think this is in part due to my extremely erratic sleeping schedule.  My body has been so confused that I am unable to sleep when I want to and unable to stay awake when I want to.  I also sleep fitfully and am zombie-like when I am awake.  But this is stating to settle down and in the most alarming fashion.  For the past couple days I’ve been asleep before midnight and awake before 8 am.  And I don’t think that is going to change anytime soon.  Yep, that’s right.  I have a “normal” sleeping schedule.  How strange is that?  But up until my sleep schedule settled down I have been out of touch with reality.

Now that I feel more lucid I feel compelled to get back to writing about what is going on in my life for all my stalkers.  Are you ready?

Nothing.  Nothing has been going on in my life.  I’ve been sleeping and trying to sleep.  The only thing I’ve really accomplished is knitting & crocheting a few things because it seemed that every moment I was moderately awake I also had needles and yarn in my hands.  I don’t even recall making half the things I’ve made.  I think I even watched a full Korean drama.  I have to actively wok to recall it though.  and, um.  yeah.  that’s it.  Exciting, no?

Chris and I were talking.  He was giving me the update of his life in all the meaningless ways in which we measure such things.  He says he can relate to assertions that I can’t possibly be in my 30s because I feel 17.  But in his eyes were a touch of bitterness or acceptance that only haunts grown ups or children who have seen too much.  I wonder if my eyes betrayed the years in between. He laments his expanding waistline as I awkwardly fail to disguise mine.  These are pointless tasks though, as we both still see each other as we did a decade ago.  For now I’ll try to shake my horror at recalling my past and using words like “decade” to relate the passage of time.  He’s starting to get little wrinkles around his eyes.  He was always quick with a smile so that wasn’t surprising.  And the Arizona sun brought out the freckles I had nearly forgotten.  I laugh now and wonder how I could possibly forget his freckled skin and how I would torment him endlessly by trying to count them.  A task that even had we had an entire lifetime together, I would have failed at.  His freckles were my very own Milky Way.  You can try and count the stars with the best intentions.  My intentions were never curiosity, though I suppose you could call them the best intentions I could have.  To “bother” him so he would be forced to “distract” me.  This was my youth.  And I couldn’t have spent it better or endure more pain at it’s end.

He talks of his job and how he makes enough to exist in that dangerous “comfortable” zone.  He fears becoming complacent in his life even as he settles into his routines. And I think that is why we talk.  Just as he is my youth, I think I am his.  The happiness of a youth spent both frivolously and on the verge of collapse is invigorating to the 9-to-5 tennis playing inhabitant of the Yuppyville suburbs.

It’ll probably be another 5+ years before I see him again.  And I don’t know how I feel about that.  During the most profoundly life changing years of my life he was there.  And seeing him in the flesh is like being 21 again. For whatever that is worth.

So middle of nowhere, a thought pops in my head. “Melanie, why not create a zine?” Now, I’m not entirely sure where this idea spawned from, but like most creative outbursts I am not quick to stifle it. I thought this through and decided that despite the fact that there is ZERO monetary gain in a grassroots zine, the experience itself is what I was most craving.  So I’ve decided to create one and get it out into the world.  Let’s be honest, I’ll probably give it away to anyone who wants to read it and several people who probably don’t want to.  But maybe if you like it I’ll publish a second volume.  If I charge at all it would be to cover publishing fees (printing and added ‘prizes’) and the cost of mailing.

You may be wondering why I want to create a actual physical zine instead of simply an e-zine or just expand my blogging.  The answer to that is I’m de-E-volving.  We started in print, moved to emails, blogs, websites & social networks.  And now I am moving bacwards through the techno-strata to find myself at a simpler place.

I don’t have the idea fully fleshed out, having just formed it a few hours ago.  So don’t be surprised if it fizzles.

Like most women, I am on a quest to lose weight.  I suppose if I really wanted some  marked results I would work out or be in some way physically active.  But I’m still a little too lazy for that.  For now, it’s not a problem.  Simply by going vegan I have seen some weight loss.  I has been slow but consistent.  But as a result of this weightloss I am starting to realize that this might actually happen.  Losing this little bit of weight has encouraged me to commit to losing more.  I saw an actress talk about how she would download a TV show to her iPod and only allow herself to watch it while on the treadmill.  Well, I don’t have a treadmill, but I do have an exercise bike that did not make the move upstairs with me because it is so heavy.  And with the restrictions of my satellite internet I can’t exactly download tv programs as I might like to.  I do get Korean dramas in the mail again, so I could rip them to my iPod.   But reading subtitles off of a small screen while riding a bike sounds like a hassle rather than a treat.  Yes, I could actually ride my bike downstairs while watching something I like on TV, however the downstairs TV is used by my parents who do not have the same viewing preferences.  I’m not so good at the individual exercise programs.  I’m too much in the here and now when I do that.  I’m aware of the work and the annoyance factor.  But getting lost in a favorite TV show is different.  I’m contemplating taking my exercise bike apart to move it upstairs.

But weightloss itself is not a good enough motivator for me.  Yes, it is my ultimate goal, but it’s not strong enough to get me off my ass.  I have to encourage myself with material goals.  I have a veg t-shirt I’ve bought with the goal of looking good in it ( ie. not stretching it out).  I’ve also been romancing the idea of more piercings.  So I’ve decided that once I reach the goal of having well defined clavicles, I will get dermal implants.  These are not goals with concrete numbers.  I was never a numbers girl anyways.