Words.

I’ve been driving around L.A. for about 2 months and I’m sorry but I still get lost.  Every corner looks the same and every exit off the freeway is identical.  

So, I’m on my way to a friend’s house and I get off at an exit because I think it may be closer than the one I’m accustomed to taking.  And since I’m so great at navigating, I turn the wrong way off the exit.  I’m pretty sure I need to turn around, so I do.  Now I’m going the right direction but I’m just not positive and I don’t want to drive in circles so as I pull up to a red light I pull my cell phone out.  While sitting at the red light I check out the map on my GPS.  Before the light turns green my phone is in the passenger seat and I know where I’m going.  As I begin to follow traffic and start on the right route, a police car that’s in the next lane and one car back, pulls behind me and puts on those beautiful patriotic red white and blue flashing lights.  

Great.

As I pull over and the light show parks behind me BAM! they add the spotlight.  Five hundred times worse then high beams in the rearview is a damn SPOTLIGHT!  Whose idea was that anyway?  Let’s shine a spotlight directly into the rearview so when the driver glances in it, he’s blinded!  Geez, awesome idea.  Using high beams incorrectly or when it’s not safe is illegal and a ticket-able offense in CA correct?  Yes, i learned that taking my driver’s test yesterday, but those are our rules, not theirs.  I really was fine until these guys came shining bright lights in my eyes while I’m trying to pay attention to the road.

There’s one more light, shining at me from my right.  I turn my head to the passenger window and there’s an officer looking in at me and talking through the window.  Now not only have I been blinded but I’m being mocked!  All I can see are spots moving where his mouth should be and I’m supposed to read lips?!.  So I reach over and roll down my window.  He says, “My partner is coming around to speak to you.”  OH!!  Well THANK you for letting me know that.  I really had no idea.

So I look to my left and right on cue, Mr. Officer #2 approaches my window.  The first thing I notice when he opens his mouth is that he has braces.  Hm, braces..he must be in training.

Great.

“Do you know why you’ve been pulled over?”

-No.

“You were on your cell phone.”

-Well I did quickly check my GPS at the red light because I got lost.

“Where are you trying to go miss?  I’ll give you directions.”

SSSSCCCCCCRRRRRR hit the brakes that is so not what happened…..Sorry I was pretending I lived in a land of decency where a police officer’s duty is to be as devoted to his humanity and to a country’s citizens as he is to making money for it’s government.

“Can I have your license, registration, and proof of insurance?”

-No you MAY not.

NO! Don’t worry, still kidding.  I handed over my info and waited patiently in the spotlight while the Tweedles went to write me a ticket.

They wrote me a citation for “operating handheld phone while driving moving vehicle, observed driver looking down and not at road”.  BULLSHIT.  Tweedle #1 informed me that any GPS had to be mounted.  Does that mean I should tape my hand written directions to the dashboard from now on as well?  I wouldn’t want to be ticketed for unlawfully glancing at a piece of paper.  

For argument’s sake, if my phone had been mounted while I was stopped at that red light I still would have been leaning over looking at it and not at the road.  Semantics?  Well why do I, or anyone else, have to pay a ridiculous ticket because some kid with braces probably just needs to learn how to give one out?!  Maybe he needed to practice his light shining skills as well.  I do like people with skills.  

I will be appearing for this ticket and pleading NOT GUILTY so the police force, courts, and government can waste more of my time and probably still take more of my money.  It’s additionally annoying and highly disappointing that so many current traffic laws are simply created to increase government revenue rather than improve road safety.  I understand the need and importance of traffic laws and enforcement.  What I don’t understand is the games that these supposed agents of safety and civil servants play with their fellow human beings to increase profits and meet quotas.

occupyxmas:

Buy Nothing Christmas is not really about refusing to spend a dime over the holiday season. It’s about taking a deep breath and deciding to opt out of the hype‚ the overcrowded malls‚ and the stressful to–do lists. It’s about reminding ourselves to really think about what we are buying‚ why we are buying it‚ and whether we really need it at all. (Adbusters.org.)

I wrote this back in April but I am posting it here in honor of Veteran’s Day.  For those who have given a part of their lives and for those who have given the whole thing, I pray in honor, in thanks, and in memory of you and your families.

April 16th 2011, 11:42 P.M.

Today I visited the Vietnam War Memorial in Washington D.C.  As I entered the area there were podiums that held these very thick books.  The pages of the books were covered in plastic and they were encased in glass.  There was an opening in front so visitors were able to reach in and turn pages, allowing one to find the name of a loved one and therefore easily locate them on the very large and very congested wall of deceased heroes.  

I was not there in memory of anyone specifically so I decided that I would choose someone at random and send my thoughts and prayers to their soul and loved ones.  I believe this idea spawned from my early afternoon visit to the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and the emptiness I felt when thinking of lives lost that could never be named and recognized.  I turned a stack of pages at once, closed my eyes, and moved my pointer, middle, ring, and pinky fingers down the page until i felt every finger lift off the page except one.  

That one little finger was lying on the name of Thomas Aloysius Lawless, SP4, AR, Newark, NJ, Born 1945 Died 1966, Panel 12E, Line 14.  I hurriedly turned to the wall and began my search.  

I glanced at each section of the wall as I walked by but as I continued each panel got larger and the number of names increased.  I finally reached a panel near the center and knelt, it was engraved in the bottom left corner as 12E.  As I counted down the lines I couldn’t help but feel sorrow at the fact that I had skimmed across the identification of so many heroes.  So many fathers, brothers, and sons.  I reminded myself that I had chosen to select one soldier to honor his memory and in doing so, in my own way, I’d be honoring all those who had been lost or who no longer had anyone to come and recognize their name….12…13…14…across the line, to the right…Thomas Lawless.

I prayed, for his soul, for his family.  I told myself I did not know his character, I did not know anything except that his life was lost in Vietnam and someone mourned for him.  As I stood there I couldn’t recollect his year of birth so I walked back to the book and realized he was just 21.  I was shaken and engrossed in the experience.  I didn’t know what any of the initials stood for or how long he’d been in the army.  So I memorized the line of information in the thick book of lives taken.  When I got to my computer I searched for him.  Mostly out of curiosity, but I think there was something else pushing me.  What exactly I was looking for I’m not really sure.  

I found and read a comment left by a friend of his from High School on a Virtual Wall.  I found his length of service and his place of death.  I learned what the initials stood for.  And I learned about the Selective Service.  I found an old article about the 1969 Draft Lottery.  I realized that I really knew nothing about Vietnam or about the impact it had on the youth of that generation, or anyone who lived through it for that matter.  Obviously as an individual in my mid-twenties I’ve heard my parents and my friends comment and reflect about the impact and of course, there was SOME curriculum in social studies or history class from junior high school or high school.  But what I’ve realized is that it wasn’t enough.  Though everyone has an opinion of war and of each different war at that, we need to pay attention to the sadness that overcame our fellow human beings during each one of those events.  We need to remember the individuals who forfeited their lives or a part of their lives for an idea, for a reason.  It’s time to stop being so self righteous and start learning from each other.  We need to teach our children and ourselves about those individuals no matter how sad it may be.    It could save them.  It could save us.  I thank you Thomas Aloysius Lawless for in a way, teaching me what no one else had.  I thank you and every other soldier for your selflessness and hold you in high regard for the sacrifices you and your loved ones have made for us.

Respectfully,

Shaina

On October 31st 2011 I said “this isn’t real, they can’t hurt me” about a thousand times, both out loud and to myself.  I was at the Haunted Trail of Balboa Park in San Diego, CA.

One of my friends showed up in my room dressed up in her Halloween costume.  I was confused because our Halloween party was a couple nights before.  She asked me and my roommate if we wanted to go to a haunted trail.  She said, “I really want to go to this haunted trail at Balboa, I heard it’s really scary.”  My roommate immediately agreed to go and started putting her Halloween costume on.  I’m sitting there thinking, I used to say “Yes!” when that show on Nickelodeon asked “Are You Afraid of The Dark?”  

So why in sam hell would I go to the supposedly scariest, longest Haunted Trail ever?  Especially, on Halloween night when it’s so foggy outside it’s hard to see ten feet in front of you?  Because my friends wanted to go, and it was my last night in San Diego, and I didn’t want to be a party pooper.  

I begrudgingly dressed in my costume and mentally prepared myself to be scared out of my wits.  I don’t even watch scary movies!!  Let’s also keep in mind that the mastermind of this plan actually cursed me out in High School once because I shut the lights off on her while she was in my basement.  She was in fact scared of the dark.  MmmHmmm.  This was going to be fun.

Yoshi, Miss Cave Woman, and Lara Croft arrived at Balboa Park and proceeded to sit in the car because they all had props that were not supposed to be brought on the trail.  I think we were already channelling our fake personas because these weapons, I mean props, were not going to be left behind.  There was no way Yoshi was leaving the egg (plastic or paper mache with a string), there was no way Cavey was leaving her club (cardboard and tape), and there was no way in hell I was leaving my guns (plastic).  After much discussion we locked and loaded and set off in the direction of fear.

As we approached the park the fog began to thicken.  I’m serious.  Talk about creepy.  We had barely stepped out of the car and were scaring ourselves half to death.  We entered the Haunted area and waited on line to be “Scared Shitless”.  Believe it or not that is exactly what the announcer on the giant projection screen who was psyching us up said.  “Get ready to be scared -beeep-less.”

We got put into a group of about ten and were herded into a small room.  We were told “these are the people you will go through the tour with”.  We enter a hallway and BEEEP goes DOWN!!!  Yoshi’s holding onto Cavey, who’s holding onto Lara, who’s holding onto her guns.  It’s pitch black and we’re walking into walls every way we turn.  There’s people screaming and then there’s a light.  So we walk towards it.  Moth to a flame.  Suddenly, three or four of the scariest people I’ve ever seen are growling at us and telling us to run and that we’re going the wrong way.  Are we actually in a horror movie??  I can’t even let go of my friends because I’m afraid of getting lost, never to be seen again, except by the zombie who’s eating me for dinner.  We are literally not with anyone else in our group anymore and then there’s a security guard and he’s telling us to “Go that Way!”.  YEA!  This is the moment I hate, when you feel like you’re putting your life in someone else’s hands.  Oh wait, “this isn’t real, they can’t hurt me”.  We keep walking and following Security and then WHOOSH.  Fresh air, and trees, and I can see my friends.  The Angel, i mean security guard, disappears as fast as he appeared.  Weird.  Oddly enough we are giggling AND trying to catch our breath.  I can feel my friends’ heartbeats as much as my own.

Luckily for the three of us, security had been walking a man and his TWO or THREE year old daughter through the FIRST part of the trail when he found us lost as well.  I can not even begin to get into all of the things that are wrong with this picture.  This man is talking about how he doesn’t want his daughter “to be no Snookie and she’s gotta be tough and she’s gotta know that daddy’s here to protect her…it’s not real, she’s gotta be brave…it’s only once a year she knows that she gets scared and she gets candy…people scare us and we get lots and lots o’ candy.”  

Are you on crack?  Okay, possibly.  

Children who had to be carried were not allowed on the trail so this child was standing between her father’s legs hanging on for dear life.  If my mid-twenty friends and I had been scared out of our brains this child must have literally been soiling her diaper.  

All child protection thoughts aside, we ended up going through the rest of the trail with Daddy of the year and his kid.  As much as I was pissed about the fact that she was even there, he talked her through the entire trail.  All thirty minutes of it.  By association, he talked us through the trail too.  Go ahead, laugh out loud.  But, you would cry too if it happened to you!  Doo doo doo doo DO. 

The worst part of following Daddy Dearest through the trail was that we were stuck going at his slow pace.  He had to walk like a penguin with his kid between his legs.  There were times when I just wanted to run…fast…and couldn’t.  That’s when I started staring these zombie mofos down.  I had to make eye contact with them and try to see their makeup so I could remind myself “this isn’t real, they can’t hurt me”.

There were zombie busses, I Am Legend infected person sheds, murder kitchens, bloody bedrooms, and it goes on…and on…for thirtyminutes.  Every horror movie or disturbing scene that you could possibly think of was there.  There was a small break between each scary section because if there wasn’t, there would have been more than a few heart attacks.  The final straw for the three amigos was when we had chainsaws at our kneecaps and could feel the wind from the motor.  We practically trampled the man and his child as we ran for our lives out of the final shed of the Haunted Trail of Balboa Park, never to return again.  At least, not this girl.

Don’t get me wrong, please go experience it for yourself next year.  It was absolutely amazing.  The details, the concepts, the structure of the buildings and the trail itself.  But I think next year on Halloween I will be content watching Hocus Pocus and Casper The Friendly Ghost.

My favorite part of Halloween has always been dressing up.  I love to make my own costumes whenever I can, whether it’s a week early (rare) or the afternoon before I go out (most common).  This year, a night of good old pumpkin fun won my heart over.  

A few nights before Halloween my friend Erin and I took a ride to a pumpkin patch.  Also known as a sectioned off area of a Grocery Store parking lot, with a bunch of pumpkins in it.  I noticed these must have been some very special parking lot pumpkins because they cost more than a mouthwatering dinner.  So we walked to the back where all the deformed and forgotten pumpkins go.  We picked out the best ones we could find and told the rest they were still beautiful, especially with the decreased price tags.  After the purchase of some carving knives we were all set to get creative.

The process of picking out the carving design was a bit overwhelming and I admit I was feeling anxious about it coming out horribly wrong.  I’m pretty sure the last time I carved a pumpkin it was two holes for eyes and a scary, jagged-lined mouth.  We both finally settled on our designs.  Erin decided to do a very detailed Caterpillar from Alice in Wonderland sitting on mushrooms, smoking a pipe, and of course the smoke rings.  I was starting to feel ambitious so I chose a scary face with a witch hat on.  

With designs picked out we carved the holes on top and began digging out the guts.  What fun!  As I pulled out my first fist full of pumpkin mush I saw pumpkin seeds.  Go figure.  A light, that I wish I’d taken the bulb out of, flashed in my brain and I decided I had to bake the pumpkin seeds.  That means that after we finished digging the insides out of our pumpkins with hands, fingernails, and spoons, I had to separate the guts from the seeds.  Let me tell you, it was a great idea.  It only took me about a half hour.  Once the pumpkin seeds, that better be delicious or else, were in the oven I held my breath and made my first cut into the face of my scary man.  

It went surprisingly well.  I felt great about my scary man and Erin’s was ridiculously awesome.  When we put the candles inside and turned all the lights off to get the full effect it was absolute Halloween pumpkin beauty.  I took the seeds from the oven, salted them and it became a night to remember.  A roommate turned on It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown and the night officially embraced all of my six year old Halloween nostalgia.  Halloween Pumpkin Carving Night had me at hello.  I can’t wait for next year!

So, I just biked it to the grocery store.  What is this 1956?  Nope.  It’s 2011 in San Diego, California.  My car’s in the shop and some places are just too far to walk to, like the market that I just have to go to.

“You can use my bike!” says my roommate.  Hmm, a bike?  Okay sounds good.  Meanwhile, the last time I rode a bike for more than 10 seconds I was about 10 years old.  So I get directions that eliminate most of the hills that are so beautifully prevalent in California.  Most of the hills, still leaves some of the hills, and I promise you I proved the Granny theory that it was uphill both ways.  

So I hop on the bike in all it’s white and teal vintage glory and start pedaling.  Wouldn’t you know I went about 3 blocks before feeling the burn.  Well, there’s no turning back now.  I mean I’d already gone through the trouble of putting the bike outside and learning to use the lock, I needed to follow through.  So I keep pedaling and I’m sliding off the seat and readjusting myself and trying not to swerve and attempting to not hit pedestrians or run into a moving vehicle.  Wow, this bike thing is harder than I remembered.  Then I get the hang of it and I notice that I’m looking at the basket, yes a basket, on the front of the bike and I’m humming the theme for the Wicked Witch from the Wizard of Oz.  You know, Da-dun Da-dun Da Nuuuhh Nuhh, Da-dun Da-dun Da Nuuhhh Nuuhhh, or something like that, you know what tune I mean.  Suddenly, there’s a man in the middle of the sidewalk, well at least I think it’s a man because from where I am it just looks like a giant sign with legs.  There’s no way off the sidewalk without hurting both myself and the bike.  I’m yelling “Excuse ME, EXCUSE ME” while realizing back-pedaling doesn’t help me brake and as I’m about to run wheels first into the walking, talking billboard he turns sideways and I glide by safely.  Phew.  I thought I was going to get charged with Sign-Slaughter.  Haha…uh…yeah…moving on.

As I turn the corner I see a giant hill.  I mean as giant as a hill can be, I could ski or snowboard on this hill.  If I rolled down it circa 1989 I’d probably throw up from too much spinning.  Hell, who was I kidding?  I was probably going to throw up after riding up this hill anyway.  I decided I needed to stop for a breather.  I took my backpack off and put it in the basket, how handy.  I actually stretched my legs and quads.  My ears were hurting from that wonderful cool breeze off the pacific so I wrapped my scarf around my head in some chic -I’m getting my ass kicked by riding a bike- sort of way.  I jumped back on, feeling fresh and ready to attack this hill.  In my head I’m making fun of myself, for being so out of shape and not even knowing it, and before I get to the punchline I see the Market on my left!!  Eureka!!!  I don’t know if I was more excited that I had reached the Market or that I was at the top of the hill which meant I didn’t have to do the climb again on my way out.  It was literally ‘all down hill from here’.  Score!

I locked up the bike and before I entered the supermarket a faint smell of grease and potatoes tickled my nose.  French fries!  In .2 seconds I convinced myself that I deserved them and followed my nose.  Satisfied by salty greasy goodness, I completed my shop, packed all my groceries into my basket and my backpack, and set on my way repeating my new mantra in my head. ‘It’s all down hill from here.”  Was Not!!!!  I never believed my grandparents, or my parents for that matter, with their silly stories about walking to school and to work, in the rain and the snow, and how it’s uphill both ways.  Uh yeah, puh-lease, that’s impossible.  WRONG!  My quads will attest to the fact that somehow, after I rode down the hill the market sat atop, there were many hills on the way home.  But I took no breaks!  I pedaled like I’ve never pedaled before, even with the extra baggage.  Haha…yea again…sorry.  I laughed at myself to make it easier.  I took deep breaths.  I made it.  And then I finished my fries.  Good thing I didn’t know I was heading out on an 8 mile bike trip when I left this morning.  3 blocks definitely would not have seemed like I’d gone too far.