Getting away: Santa Cruz

In a previous post, I described myself as a “renaissance lady”; a college instructor, a linguist, a scholar of literature, a swing dancer, a member of a 20s/30s era chorus girl dance troupe, an artist, a model, and a DJ. That is a lot to pile on my plate, but I enjoy every bit of what I do. However, I often feel that I need to take time out and be away from everything. My week is spent with people; students, colleagues, professors, dancers, and photographers. Once Friday arrives, I want it to be all about me.

My weekends are spent hiking trails along the peninsular coast and antique/vintage hunting at local fairs. After a friend told me about her solo excursions, I decided that a monthly getaway would be good for me. This weekend, I stayed in Santa Cruz.

Santa Cruz had their monthly antique fair this weekend, so I packed a small bag with my hiking gear, a couple of cute outfits, and evening wear. While my purpose was to look for vintage items, I decided to make the drive worthwhile and turn it into a mini getaway. Instead of taking the fastest route, I took my time and drove along Cabrillo Highway.

Driving along Cabrillo Highway

I drove about 55 mph set on cruise control, hooked up my iPad to play 1920s music and took in all the sites. I made several stops along the way just to admire the surroundings and take a few snapshots. Pigeon Point was the loveliest with its historic lighthouse. There were some short trails nearby, and of course, I traversed them.

Once I arrived in Santa Cruz, I noticed that not much has changed. It looks exactly the same as it had when I last visited 17 years ago. That actually made me quite happy. It's nice to see a city retain its original charm. Since I had a few hours before checking in at the hotel, I walked along the boardwalk and the pier. It reminded me very much of New York's Coney Island except without all the circus freaks and hotdogs. I moved north along the cliffs toward the lighthouse. As I was watching the surfers in the ocean, I thought how much I regretted leaving my board at home (next trip). The surf museum was a nice alternative to wading in the water (but it was so tiny). During my walk, I chatted a bit with the locals about swing dancing, dogs (of course Daisy was with me) and Santa Cruz geography. I was told that just outside "The Mystery Spot" there was nice trail that was dog friendly.

After the sunset, I went back to the pier to see the boardwalk lights and then along downtown's main drag. I avoided the big named restaurants and dined instead at an off the beaten path hole in the wall. The evening temps were perfect enough to eat outside and watch passers-by. The Nick was nearby showing Silver Linings Playbook. I'd been wanting to see this film since it co-stars my all time favorite actor Robert De Niro. I stayed for the 9:30 show. (I'll post a review later in the week.)

 

Earlier this morning, I finally did my browsing of the antique fair. Unfortunately, it was a disappointment. Most of the clothing was 90s "vintage" with very few antique items available. It was someone's junk that would eventually become someone else's treasure. On the bright side, I didn't spend too much money (money I can use for next week's Vintage Expo). And I was okay with that. Had it been just a one day trip for the fair, it would've been a waste of gas and time. Instead, it was a pleasant experience where I could take in and admire the local attractions. Most importantly, it was time spent enjoying myself free from the stresses of every day life.

April's getaway: Folsom, CA

Renaissance Lady

Since moving back to San Francisco a few years ago, I'd been thinking a lot about what to do with my future since it took a couple of dramatic turns. Then I asked myself, "do I really have to do just one thing?" There's so much I love doing, and I feel that if I settle on just one type of activity (i.e. career),  I'd have cheated myself on fully enjoying my time on earth. I consider my talents and wonder how I can put them into productive use simultaneously. Of course my career will always remain in education; I love teaching college, and eventually I will teach at the university level. However, I am not JUST a professor and scholar. I am other things; a linguist, a dancer, an artist and model who occasionally dabbles in music supervision.

Language
I've always wanted to be a polyglot and learn as many languages as possible. I speak three languages fluently (English, Spanish, Italian), and I have a basic knowledge of Japanese.  I know some phrases in Korean and Turkish, too, but not enough to have a simple conversation. Part of the requirements for a Ph.D. at Stanford is to complete two foreign language requirements. I could take the easy way out and just use Spanish and Italian, but I love a challenge; perhaps French and Portuguese.

Swing Dancing
I enjoy dancing; it is not only physically healthy, but it is also emotionally healthy. I'm always happiest when I'm dancing. Swing dancing is an umbrella term and most lay people have no idea that there are various styles and techniques: Lindy Hop (Savoy and Hollywood styles), Charleston, Balboa, Bal-swing, Collegiate Shag, East Coast Swing, Jive. I am able to dance all of them, but my favorite is Collegiate Shag. It's high energy and super fun. The problem is, not many people know how or are too intimidated to shag. We're trying to build that community.

Before I left Southern California, I was asked if I'd be interested in being part of a dance troupe. I had already committed myself to starting my life anew in the Bay Area and respectfully declined. I tried to find some troupes and inquired about one. However, one look at my heavily tattooed arms and I knew the answer was no. There were others that had auditions but the locales were too far away to be able to commute between home, work, and graduate school. Then a friend introduced me to a fledgling troupe looking for swing dancers. It's a 1920s-30s chorus girl troupe performing Charleston. I accepted the invitation once I learned their acceptance of tattooed women. I'm about two weeks into my practice with the troupe, and I'm absolutely thrilled.

Ultimately I would love to assist other teachers at various swing dance festivals; I already have the experience having assisted three different leads. I'd also love the opportunity to swing dance around the world. The additional language skills would come in handy here.

Art
Very few people know that I'm an artist. I usually sketch pencil to paper often transforming my friends' pictures into Día de los Muertos themed portraits. What I'd like to do is transfer my sketches to canvas and be able to paint a background with depth. I don't expect to make money off them, but I wouldn't mind having them displayed around local galleries. We'll see.

Portrait of my prima

Music
I don't make music, but I can make a very good compilation. One thing Dem complimented me on was my talent for putting good tunes together. I moonlight as a DJ from time to time, and yes, I've had a paid gig here and there. I'd like to be good enough to DJ larger swing dance festivals just so I can travel and dance for free. Swing dancing is always the main priority. My music library literally has several thousand songs. When you put it all together, it's mind-boggling to see how many songs you know. Most of my compilations consist of various swing dance music, rockabilly (original and modern), psychobilly, and 80s. Perhaps I'll just make several copies and sell them for dirt cheap. I've known some L.A. DJ's who've done the same. Hmm...we'll see.

DJ Rose Red. I need to do another shoot now that I have red hair.

Modeling
My first shoot ever was when I was only 20 years old. I had been living in San Francisco for barely a year when I was approached by two gay men in the Castro. They looked at me and said, "Bettie Page!" They encouraged me to do some modeling since I had "that look" so I figured, "why not?" I used to work at a corsetry shop and the owner often used her employees to model her products. I regret not having asked for those photos. I don't even think the store exists anymore as I've tried looking for it recently. Lesson learned. I occasionally shot photos with a few amateur photographers in the late 90s so they could build a portfolio, but then I stopped in favor of getting a real job. I'd never taken it seriously. In recent years, I was encouraged to go back into modeling and I'm finding that although I am older than the average model, I find that I have more confidence in front of the camera. I guess that comes with age. Once this dance troupe gets underway, I'm pretty sure I'll be doing more current pictures. Although I already have a photographer who wants to shoot me, he's been pretty lax, lately. I need to get his bum in gear.

Life should not be spent doing one thing. We live an average 80 years, and I just find it unfortunate that people spend most of that time doing the same thing day after day. Once retirement kicks in, what is there left except to just deteriorate and die? I've seen it happen to many good people who forget to enjoy life more. When I retire from teaching (which won't be for at least 30 years), I expect to live another 25 years after that. After all, I'm seeing all these original swing dancers living well into their 90s (and still dancing!). And that's what I will continue to do. Utilize all my talents from here on out so that I live a long, healthy, fruitful life.

Cheers!

Antique/Vintage Hunting (UPDATED 4/11/13)

One of my longtime hobbies is antique/vintage hunting. This is thanks to my dad who'd always drag me around antique stores when I was a kid. Eventually, I'd end up dragging him around (though he was all too happy to join). Back in SoCal, we'd always go down to Old Town Orange, Downtown Fullerton, Uptown Whittier, Retro Row, and the antique/vintage swap meets in Pomona, Pasadena and Long Beach. Sometimes we'd drive along highway 99 often stopping at small towns with antique stores; we'd always find good deals. Of course there were days when we didn't buy anything at all. We'll do it for nostalgic purposes and take many trips down memory lane.

My love for antiques and vintage clothing has not waned. When I'm not dancing, gardening or hiking, I'm out antique hunting around the Bay Area's vintage fairs and flea markets. I've amassed a large collection of clothing, shoes and hats from the 1920s, 30s, 40s, and early 50s. I've also found some furniture and appliances; most were actually free.

Part of the fun of antique/vintage hunting is exploring other areas beyond your locale. I've taken short day trips to Petaluma, Concord, Port Costa, and Stockton for their fairs. I also went as far as Sacramento for a daytrip which proved exhausting. So I've decided if the drive is 2+ hours, might as well make a weekend of it and enjoy the area and its antique fair. Next week, I'll be staying in Santa Cruz for their monthly fair. (Warm weather permitting, I may enjoy a morning surf session.)

My current hunt is for a victrola. In fact, I'm looking for "the victrola man" who is selling a pristine condition portable victrola with 78s and multiple needles. I didn't have the money at the time, but I said, "if it's meant to be, I'll find you again."  It's been two months thus far, but he did mention that he only occasionally sells around the bay area. I didn't find him today in Alameda, so here's hoping he'll be in Santa Cruz next weekend.

So what am I to do with all the stuff I accumulate? My dream is to be able to buy an older home (preferably in HMB) and design it to my vintage specifications. When I have visitors, I want them to feel as if they stepped back in time when life was simpler and carefree.

Stay tuned to this post. I'll be adding more pictures of my vintage purchases. Meanwhile, admire the most recent finds below.

A typical day at Alameda Antique Faire

Some of my vintage appliances and furniture

A small selection of my vintage dresses circa 1930s-40s

Today's (3/3/13) finds: 30s oxfords, hat and dress; 40s overalls and blue day dress.

3/16/13 From the SF Vintage Expo 40s on the left 20s on the right

From the Vintage Fashion Faire (3/23/13) Perfect for swing dancing!

1930s dresses for the low, low price of $140 (total!)

A 1920s cabinet purchased from an estate sale.

Green Thumbs

In an earlier post, I wrote about my desire to move to Half Moon Bay. I frequently visit there on a weekly basis often finding different trails to hike and explore. Other times, I drive around gazing out at the farmland. What I love about HMB is this mixture of beach/country culture. It fits my character perfectly; I'm part surfer, part country girl.

I used to spend summers in the San Joaquin Valley at my grandmother's house. SJV is the agricultural capital of the world. I recall walking with my grandmother near the vineyards on our way to church. Other days, were spent at a dairy farm or an egg-producing farm. Some days I would sit in her living room browsing all the picture books she kept readily available. I loved looking at old pictures of my dad's childhood. His family was migrant farm workers often following the season to tend the harvest. No matter how tough the farm working was, he and his parents & siblings always took the time to pause from their work and smile for a picture. These are the images I love most.

Those valley summers were insanely hot; triple digits. Sometimes it was best to spend the day outdoors because it was much cooler than being in a house without air condition. I'd always walk around the house admiring the gardens. My grandmother's backyard was huge! At least it was when I was much younger. As I got older, the yard just seemed to get smaller and smaller (yet still much larger than most suburban homes). The side yard was lined with the most beautiful roses in reds, yellows, oranges and pinks. There was always a sweet, rosy smell in the air. On the far end of the backyard was her vegetable garden from which she made her salsas, beans, and other dishes. God, how I miss her cooking.

That tradition of maintaining a sustainable garden was carried on by my dad. He maintains a huge yard at his home. He raises lemon, orange, pomegranate, and grapefruit trees. He grows tomatoes, jalapeños, bell peppers and various spices such as cilantro and basil. He takes great pride in his urban farm. Every weekend, he awakes at dawn to begin trimming, pruning, cutting and watering.Whenever I visit, I often join my dad; quality father/daughter time. The best part is just sitting on a bench admiring the hard work.  Later, I'll pick through all the tomatoes and peppers to make salsa; just like my grandmother made it.

I, too, am currently maintaining a vegetable garden in my backyard. Since I am a strict vegetarian, it made sense to start growing my own food than relying on the grocery. I try as best as I can to follow the seasons, but San Francisco seems to have only two; spring and winter with the occasional Indian summer.  Regardless, I've been quite successful with growing food from seed. I've grown the following vegetables to abundance: zucchini, tomatoes, baby red potatoes, green onions, garlic and spinach. It was tough keeping up with the zucchini to a point that I invested in a spirooli and learned to make zucchini pasta. I also made zucchini bread as a dessert. The tomatoes, onions, garlic and jalapeños were used for my salsas. It seems to taste so much better prepared within moments of harvesting.

I've also become adept at canning. I currently grow strawberries and rhubarb, and I am looking forward to making jams and fruit spreads from my garden. Usually I purchase strawberries from the local farmers' market to make my jams. Hopefully I'll be able to grow cucumbers this year, too, so that I can make my own pickles.

This season, I've planted the following items: cabbage, romaine lettuce, broccoli, artichoke, brussel sprouts, and onions. Since having a terrible January frost, I've had to restart my spice garden (cilantro, basil, oregano), though the parsley and rosemary have survived and continue to grow.

Like my dad, I often pause to admire my fruitful efforts. I realize that maintaining my garden is not only benefiting my physical health, but it also benefits my emotional health. Rising with the sun and tending to my garden is definitely therapeutic and rewarding. You know that when you produce healthy fruits and vegetables, your self-healing efforts are working.

My garden

Romancing Yourself

[An] important part of recovery is to continue to romance yourself! 

At the end of the day you are the one who knows your heart best 

and you can’t wait on others to fill it. 

               -"TNG"

Sometimes you think that you're the only person in the world with troubles that no one understands, but in truth, everyone goes through some rough patches. Every person walks along different paths, yet the trails always seem to parallel. As you share your stories, you find similarities. You learn from and/or perhaps even influence the other to find healthy ways to heal.

A friend of mine had gone through a similar ordeal with her ex, though I would imagine the loss was much greater and more painful as she had married this individual. I can't imagine going through a dissolution of marriage; ending a long-term relationship is tough enough. As I learned more about this individual either straight from her or others that know him, it is quite apparent the man is a psychopath with little to no regard for other people's feelings. I once thought Dem was, too, based on his dismissive attitude of my feelings, but Dem's problem has more to do with alcohol influencing his bad behavior and poor choices. He can change if he wants to. My friend literally shared her life with a psychologically sick, sick person, and there's no curing a psychopath. However, she has refused to let herself crawl in a corner and hide from the world. She's held her head high and is moving forward. I'm quite sure she's not without personal, emotional turmoil as she, too, often references the need for healing.

Today she shared her blog entry with me, and the quote above struck me most. Romance yourself. I think, as women, we often forget to take care of ourselves. We are so focused on taking care of everyone around us that we often neglect our own needs. We need to be selfish sometimes. We must tell ourselves that we are important, too. But not just saying it; acting on it. That's what my friend does. She throws herself to the wind and lands in the most adventurous places.

Lately, I've considered all the pleasures I enjoy. I love to go out swing dancing. Hiking along various scenic trails brightens my day. I often take in an old film at many of the local historic theatres. I spend most Sundays vintage shopping and antique hunting. I consider my friend's out-of-town ventures, and I think, why not leave town for a weekend and continue my hobbies at a different locale? I've decided that one getaway each month is doable.

My first getaway was a trip to Sacramento last weekend. They had their weekly Midtown Stomp (swing dancing) and the monthly antique faire. It wasn't much of a weekend since I had few dances and I didn't find any antique goods worth buying, but it was a start. I could've done more, but I didn't research well enough to explore other attractions in a short period of time. 

When I returned to San Francisco I immediately began researching more vintage/antique faires. Some places will have monthly, quarterly or biennial faires, so I've decided to create getaways around these events. Much of my "to do" list will definitely consist of patronizing vintage/antique faires but also: hiking local trails, finding a swing dance venue, watching a film at historic theatres, visiting museums. It's an opportunity to do the things that I enjoy; immerse myself in activities I love; remind myself that I am important to me.

March's destination is already set: Santa Cruz for their next vintage faire and some local attractions. And most importantly, time spent romancing myself.

Ink Therapy

When I was little, I used to stare at my dad's tattooed arm, trace my finger along the lines and ask endless questions. Sometimes I tried to rub off the ink, but my dad said that the only way it would come off is if the ink was burned off. I didn't understand the concept of inked skin or even the rationale for it, but all I knew was that I loved gazing at these paintings on a human canvas. I have always been fascinated with tattoos since childhood, and it stems from the fact that had it not been for a tattoo, I wouldn't be alive today. 

My dad was 19 when he got his first tattoo. He went down to The Pike at Long Beach with his brother-in-law.  He chose a rose with a scroll and asked to have his last name inscribed in it. Fast forward 2 years later at Camp Pendleton Marine Corps Base. My dad was at the mess hall retrieving his meal when he saw a tiny Woman Marine (WM) looking at his arm. She pointed at his tattoo and said, "that's my last name!" Long story short: they dated, they married, they live happily ever after; the WM is my mom. I once asked her if she would've noticed him had he not had that tattoo. She said, "No. All I saw was some guy with my last name tattooed on his arm." So naturally I would be drawn to tattoos; it was my destiny. At least that's how I rationalize my own tattoos to my mom.

I have quite a few tattoos myself. I was a bit of a late bloomer when I started getting tattooed; my first one at 24. My cousin and I walked in to a San Francisco tattoo shop on Divisadero. She was there for moral support since she already had hers a few years earlier, and her only regret was going alone and picking a crappy artist. I opted for some cherries with flames on my mid/lower back; nothing special and definitely without much creative thought, but at least the work was done well.

There is just something euphoric about the tattoo process. It all starts with an idea and continues into a collaborative effort between artist and canvas. When I walk into the studio, I just stand and take in the atmosphere. The flash covered walls, the smell of sterile air and cleaning products, the melodic buzzing of the tattoo instruments and, of course, the camaraderie. I get such a rush when I sit at the chair and watch my artist get ready to sling ink to skin. Since I have an incredibly high tolerance to pain, I'm rarely uncomfortable. Sure there are spots that make you go, "oooh!" but for the most part, I find it quite soothing. When it's over, I can't help but stare admirably at my work of art.

The most common questions I get about my artwork is "what does it mean?" or "why did you get that?" The truth is, there are various reasons for getting them. My first one was just because I wanted the experience of getting one, but as I've aged, my tattoos have become more personal; some with deep symbolic meaning and some a reflection of who I am or what I love. I like to think of tattoos as illustrated representations of a person's life. The tattoos below are the ones I cherish most.


The Knock Out

Ms. Knock Out was my 36th birthday gift to myself. She was also the first new tattoo I got in four years. Prior to that, I spent most tattoo sessions touching up or reworking older tattoos. When I found the artwork, I knew I had to have it. She is a likeness of one of my favorite actresses (Clara Bow) as well as a good representation of the constant battles I've fought in recent years. I've taken some hits, but I'm a tough gal, and I manage to overcome the myriad obstacles along my life's journey.


Robert DeNiro

My most recent work (as of February 2013) is that of my all-time favorite actor. Before I decided on this piece, I considered all the people images I currently have. They're all women: Bettie Page, Clara Bow, Ms. Knock Out, and 2 pin-up faces. After I finished Clara, I decided that my next piece would be a man. But not just any man. I wanted an Edwardian gentleman in the likeness of Robert DeNiro. My tattoo artist felt the Vito Corleone character best fit that era, so I went for it. What he represents for me is the perfect man. He's handsome, dark and mysterious. He's a gentleman yet tough when he needs to be.


La Llorona

When I was a little girl, my dad used to tell me the story of La Llorona; the weeping woman in search of her children she murdered. (Hispanic parents don't really believe in the fairy tale, happily ever after bed time stories.) However, It was less a horror story and more of a cautionary tale for women; be cautious of men who make false declarations of love. La Llorona is also a ballad; one that I enjoy singing. My favorite lyric: No dejaré de quererte aunque la vida me cueste. I've listened to and sung this song for years. I never realized how much it mirrors the feelings I have now; quite prophetic.


Casados Muertos

The famous Vegas tattoo. Over the past several years, my Easters were spent at Viva Las Vegas. In 2006, I received a random email from a tattoo artist. He liked my style, my skin and my tattoos. He asked to tattoo me at the next VLV show. Why not? My friend and I (because I wasn't about to go alone) met with him at this super seedy hotel on the old strip...at midnight. We met him at his hotel room where everything was completely legit. He had his traveling tattoo equipment, new needles and a saran wrapped chair. It was definitely a good time shooting the breeze and slinging the ink. One of my best Vegas memories. I always enjoy telling the story about the tattoo more than sharing its meaning. Besides it's pretty self explanatory. El Amor Eterno.

La Maestra

 

I am currently an English instructor at a local college, but I used to be a high school teacher. In 2005, I decided to have Ms. Page tattooed as a teacher to represent my profession and my admiration for her. People often commented that I must be pretty vain to have myself tattooed on my arm, and I feverishly explained that it was Bettie Page. I decided to grow out my bangs to lessen my likeness to her. I've since become a redhead and now I get more comparisons to Rita Hayworth.

The tattoos above are just a few of the many others I have on my body. I also have red roses, sugar skulls, pin-ups, swallows, cherries and hellcats but they're more for my affection of American Traditional art than any deep meaning. The next few sessions will focus more on smaller images and filler art to connect the larger pieces.

I do have another planned project: An American Traditional tattoo of Saint Catherine of Alexandria - the patron saint of women, scholars and educators. She will be depicted in prayer and framed within the breaking wheel. I just need to consider placement. Stay tuned; there is definitely a story and a parallel of our lives; coming some time in late 2013 or early 2014.

Faith restored

I've had my doubts about whether or not to trust the court system because it seems people are granted requests for the most absurd reasons, but after today's events, I now have an increased faith that the justice system can make the right decision.

As written in a previous post, I had received (completely out of the blue) a harassing (borderline stalking) email from an individual with whom I've never had contact; be it personally, virtually, 3rd person, etc. In other words, she was a nobody to me just as I was a nobody to her. At least I should have remained a nobody to her after a bizarre chance encounter over two months ago.

As I reflect on this whole situation, all I can do is laugh, shake my head and say, "all because I bought a bottle of shampoo." This whole thing started because I just wanted high quality hair products since I'm obsessed with my hair. Had she not realized that none of this would've happened had she not sent her harassing email to begin with? I never had contact with or from her before giving her my information for the company's records. Of course I'm going to file a complaint with her employer. But I wasn't going to obsess about it. After reporting it, I went on with my life, but she just couldn't let it go, and it had been a nightmare since.

This girl pretty much demonstrated in open court that she has been obsessed with attacking me any way that she can. I originally thought it was Dem who put her up to this but judging from his demeanor, he obviously did not want to be there. And I will publicly make my apology to him here: I now realize that you weren't behind this ridiculous situation. I was wrong in my assumption that you put her up to this just to get back at me. But that certainly doesn't excuse your abusive behavior during our relationship and in the months immediately following the break-up.

During this hearing, she dragged out information that was never in the original report, and it caught me completely by surprise. The problem was, she had no proof available to back up her claims. They weren't available because they don't exist. I came prepared with my witness and evidence, but they weren't needed. The burden of proof was on her, and she had nothing.

Bottom line, she didn't like the fact that I have a blog. She didn't like the fact that I have written about my experience with an abusive alcoholic. She didn't like the fact that people who have nothing to do with her could be reading about my living with post traumatic stress disorder. She didn't like the fact that I refused to be bullied nor back down from defending myself. Contrary to her delusional belief, this blog does not revolve around her. I write about what I feel in one moment, and I move forward and on to the next thought that encompasses my mind. My life does not revolve around her. I have better things to do. I dance, I hike, I garden, I teach, I go to graduate school, I go antique/vintage hunting, I attend classic film festivals. Add one more thing to my already busy schedule: I'm now a 1930s chorus girl. (I'm finally part of a dance troupe. Yay me!)

I am completely thankful that the judge saw through her. She demonstrated her lack of maturity and made a complete fool of herself, and that was quite apparent with all the laughing I heard from everyone else in the court room. Even my witness and I were withholding bursts of laughter because that was how ridiculous and immature the claims were. And as we were dismissed, I couldn't help quietly laughing and shaking my head as I whispered a parting shot under my breath before sitting tall and taking great satisfaction in watching her angrily leave in her agony of defeat. Let this be a learning experience for her. Hopefully she will now leave me alone because I want nothing to do with her; never had, never will. 

As per the parting shot, it was not meant as a dig at her. It was meant for Dem (and I know he heard me) for allowing himself to get involved with a kid. For allowing himself to take a huge leap backward. For allowing himself to reach way down to scrape the bottom of the barrel; a 40 year old man with a 20-something kid. Dating a woman-child does not make a man look younger. It makes him look older, desperate, and pathetic. And he looked hella old and haggard

Before I end this, there's just one thing I want him to ponder. When we first started dating, he had asked me if I would be strong enough to stand by him should his baby-mama ever bring him to family court. Considering this is the second unsuccessful attempt at using the court system to unjustly punish me, I can say with 100% certainty that yes, I would have been strong enough to handle it, and I will continue to maintain strength. There was never anything to fear but he allowed himself to be influenced by what other people (people who don't know me) posted about me online. Perhaps he should take a better look at what's online and what she posted about her own self. Better yet, he should take a long look in the mirror; only then will he have a legitimate reason to be scared.

*TAKES A MUCH NEEDED DEEP BREATH* Thank You, God, for blessing me with supportive family and friends. And thank You for restoring my faith in justice.

This post brought to you by our favourite band.

You think you've got a hold of it all
You haven't got a hold at all
When you reach the top, get ready to drop
Prepare yourself for the fall, you're gonna fall
It's almost predictable 

           - Depeche Mode

Demian Griffitts

Forever Faithful

Half my life ago, my Niners won SuperBowl XXIX. It has been 18 long years since that win, and in those 18 long years we've come close. However, the last 10 years saw some below .500 win/loss ratios, a string of lousy QBs and horrible coaching. Last year was a heartbreak as the Niners were stopped short of the SuperBowl.

Today, I watched the game among with my fellow 49er Faithfuls. When we were down 17-0, I never let up hope. My die-hard Raider fan Uncle Joe from Hawaii called to tease me. I just said, "the game is not over, and Falcons are known to blow leads. We'll win this game." My fellow Faithfuls and I watched the game with intensity; we whooped and howled; we exchanged high fives. When the game was over, tears streamed down our faces as we gave each other hugs shouting out "18 Long years!!!" Yes, Faithfuls, our Niners are back in top form.

I never let up hope that my 49ers would come back from dismal past seasons. In Harbaugh I trust, and Kaepernick had my 100% support when he was made the starting QB. I was born a 49er Faithful; and I'm a 2nd generation Faithful. I grew up watching Montana, and my young adulthood cheered Young. It had been a long time coming to cheer a new QB, and Kaep is right up there with greatness. I haven't been this hyped over a QB in years. Kaepernick is incredibly athletic, handsome and tattooed!!! But I digress...

49ers were at the bottom for a long time, but I never jumped ship. I proudly showed my 49er support even in the worst of losses. But hard work and determination gets you out of adversity and on to greatness. Never lose hope.

It may be just a sport, but it's also a life lesson. ALWAYS  a 49er Faithful. GO NINERS!

My 49er game face.

Proof of my long time 49er loyalty.
Sporting my 49er shirt at age 6.

Negative ninnies

Demian Griffitts

You can please some of the people some of the time, 

all of the people some of the time, 

some of the people all of the time, 

but you can never please all of the people all of the time.

-Abraham Lincoln

 

I began writing this blog with full awareness that not everyone would like or agree with its contents. That is just a fact of life that Lincoln so eloquently conveyed. Since its publication, I've received positive feedback from friends about not just for what it says but that I was brave enough to share.  I've also received a few messages from complete strangers who have changed their perspective about the causes and symptoms of PTSD.

Some bad always comes with good. Have I received negative feedback? Yes. From just one person thus far. And it comes as no surprise that that one person plays a not too flattering part in a story I've shared. As a result, I've been attacked, but I can't say that I'm surprised.

Attacking a person's character is usually the first line of defense for any person. That is, for any person who knows he or she is guilty, is in the wrong, or knows that they don't have a leg to stand on. It could be about anything. 

A few examples follow: 

In 2012, I was often engaged in some civil debate about politics. It was an election year, so whether or not you vote, you have either listened to or participated in political debates. It can't be escaped. I believe the topic was about the economy, and I had a retort for every argument "Tom" made. His last arguing point was, "whatever, you're fat and ugly." I immediately replied, "okay, this conversation is over. Once a debate turns into personal attacks, that's when you know that the other party has nothing further to contribute." He tried to continue egging me on, but I refused to engage. Ultimately, Tom apologized and admitted that he was just trying to get under my skin. He respected me in that I didn't let his comments get to me. He even admitted that I was very attractive with a good shape. 

One young girl*, "Elena" made a statement that many people responded to. I, of course, presented a more objective viewpoint, but she took it personally because I didn't agree with her position. I told her not to expect everyone to agree with you. The response, "you're the one with the rocky past!" So that's the card being played. The "you have a rocky past" card. I simply stated,   

Honestly, who doesn't have moments of adversity and despair on his/her life's journey? The key is to challenge it, overcome it and move forward. Not one person is perfect, and if you're going to judge me based on hearsay, then you really don't know me and you are undeserving of my friendship. And if throwing someone's past in his/her face is the only card you can play, well, that speaks more of your character than the person you're trying to insult.

And that brings me to another young girl, Gia.  All we wanted to do was watch a film, but because my friend was late, we had to wait an hour for the next showing. So what do people do to kill time? Walk and shop around, take photographs of the Christmas scenery, and maybe have a hot chocolate along the way. As we ventured from store to store, we made polite conversation with the staff; all related to my hairstyle, my tattoos, my cateyeglasses, my friend's outfit, etc. One of our stops was at a beauty supply shop. Like the other shops, this staff was also friendly and very helpful with my purchase. Gia asked if I wanted to "opt in" for the mailing list. Why not? I gave her my name, email and phone number before leaving with my friend to pick up some snacks and return to the cinema. Five days later, I received an email through my modeling website. I was stunned by its contents. I was even further surprised that the email came from Gia. The message was unprovoked, unwarranted and a classic form of harassment. After putting two and two, together, I realized how she found my profiles online.

I filed a complaint with the store manager, district manager and the Better Business Bureau. I also contacted my attorney. I did not appreciate a store employee using company information for personal use, especially considering the nature of the situation. So what is Gia's natural reaction? Counterattack. Rather than admit to and accept the consequences of her inappropriate and illegal actions, she contacted authorities and twisted the facts of the situation to put herself in a favorable light. I'm not worried. I have witnesses. I have her email. She doesn't have a leg to stand on.

Lets get back to my original point: People attacking when they're guilty, wrong or have nothing better to say. The three examples above reiterate that point. As per this blog, the one naysayer is a clear example. Has he defended himself? No. He knows he's guilty. His actions demonstrate that. He has gone on the attack and playing the "she has a rocky past" card.

Unless a person was a participant or witness to that traumatic 2007 event I survived, he or she has nothing to say about it. No one has a right to disclose my past to others. It is my story to tell. I own it. The greater distance I put between that event and myself, the easier it is to share. As of this writing, I've only shared it in-person. Anyone who knows me today, knows about that event. This includes family, friends, and yes, even my boss. (I made sure to close that loophole.) When the time is right, I will publish it.

That said, the abusive relationship I shared is my experience. An experience that I am working through to help me heal. If that person does not like what I shared:

1. He should have behaved better.
2. He can defend himself. HOWEVER, he has no right using and manipulating the facts of my experience of which he had no part or witness to to defend his actions. It's irrelevant. And frankly speaking, it's a flashing neon sign of desperation masking that guilt.

As I continue my writing, the experiences of that abusive relationship may pop up again, but only in reference. It has its effect and influence in future decisions that I will make for myself. But the experience needed to be disclosed to make sense of everything else I will write. My PTSD originated some place in my lifeline, and it was compounded elsewhere. In order for me to learn from the experience and move on, I have to acknowledge it.




* I use the term "young girl" to describe the females in this post because they're behavior is unbecoming of a lady. Plus, being in your 20s does not automatically place them in that category.

HMB

The peace and serenity that is Half Moon Bay, CA

When my parents last visited, I took them on a drive through Half Moon Bay. My mom's initial reaction...BORING. I wouldn't expect anything less, but I think she could appreciate some of its charm and beauty. She asked what the appeal was considering that there wasn't much around; just farmland, mountains and beaches with a few shops and restaurants here and there.

The geography is precisely why I love HMB. It's rural AND coastal. I feel so much at peace when I'm there; whether it's walking along the coastal trails, the farmland's valley floor, the creeks or the open space preserves. There is just something about the sounds of rustling leaves, trickling waters and crashing waves that calm my nerves and bring peace of mind. After a long work week when I'm constantly moving about, presiding over my classes, or developing new curriculum, "boring" is what I need. I welcome it. Rather, I pursue it.

It isn't just the work stress from which I seek relief; it is also the tribulations of life. Sometimes I wonder how I even muster the strength to move past and away from these tumultuous events that seem to jump out at me. It has been a very rough six years, and though most of those distant memories are fading, the more recent painful memories of an abusive relationship are still ingrained in my mind. Hence the frequent trips back to HMB. It quiets my mind, and eases my PTSD symptoms. I liken the ocean breezes to God's whispers; as though He is telling me not to worry and that everything will be okay.