mandalay

the Why

I absolutely love throwing myself into new situations. Now, this is not to say that I don't fear it. I think it would be a little odd if I didn't. But I love that two weeks ago, there were all of these people who I didn't know from Adam. And in two years, I will love and possibly hate some of them (well, hopefully not hate) and will probably be great friends with them. Right now, I get to learn their stories. That, to me, is one of the best parts of life.

posted by amanda @ 11:16 AM 0 Comments

the post-it

This monday and last monday, I became acquainted with the local DMV. I had to register my car, which involved getting new plates and a California title, as well as getting a California driver's license. The registration process was definitely the most involved and I ended up having to leave after paying $200 and waiting in line to find a smog check place before returning to get my car inspected so I could leave with new plates. When I returned to the inspection station outside the DMV, there was a guy in the bay in front of me digging through his car. I walked up to the door and rang the bell (following the sign on the door) and stood around, waiting for something to happen.

It didn't.

After glancing around, starting to pace, returning to the door whilst considering ringing again, the guy said "Yeah, I think the bell's just a sham. I've already rung the thing three times." We struck up a conversation and I soon learned that this here was a Navy boy who is finishing his undergrad work—finally, he said, with a bunch of kids—and is in pre-med and psychology. He asked me what the practical application for Social Documentation was (after being unable to really figure out what it meant) and I have to say: I was stumped. The application is documentation, right? I wasn't committed to my answer. After about five minutes, someone finally came through the door and commenced to inspect his car. He kept trying to talk to me while the lady was asking questions of him. She moved on to my car and he said it was nice to meet me, introduced himself, and then tried to shake my hand with the woman in between us. It was a bit awkward.

He drove off and I continued my inspection and then went inside to finish up. Once I got a number (you have to wait in line to be assigned a number to wait: a brilliant system), I saw him sitting in the front row of chairs and sat down beside him and we resumed our conversation. While we were talking, he pulled out a not-really-pocket-size knife and started cleaning his fingernails. The action in itself wasn't surprising to me. My dad does this, I've seen it done by many men around me. In West Texas, all boys carried knives. The main goal of half the guys in choir when we toured Germany was to buy switchblades that are illegal here. And they did. Personally? I use my other hand to clean under my fingernails. This knife was a sort of large black utility knife. And I have an active imagination.

I won't say that I am prone to fantasize in my daily life. I think of it more as "running through scenarios." It's something I do throughout my day, during many activities, and I have no idea how many other people do this as well. So even while carrying on a conversation with the nice Navy boy, I was glancing around at the people in the room, wondering if he could be a psycho. Would someone behind the counter start screaming? See the knife and call in the police? Slyly reach behind the counter and trip a wire? Would he grab me and stab the thing into my neck? (Cambria, this is where your movie theory collides with my inner dialogue.)

The automated voice came over the speaker announcing his number. He stood up, closed and returned the knife to his pocket, excused himself, and walked over to the counter and perched as the woman dug around for a temporary registration permit for him. He walked back a couple of minutes later with a little yellow post-it with his name and phone number on it, smiled, and said to give him a call and we could get coffee some time. I smiled back and said sure, that'd be great.

What do you think? Is it weird to go out with a guy who has killed you in your head?

posted by amanda @ 2:11 PM 2 Comments

i would be proud to partake of your pecan pie

on the way into cali, driving through the gold mountain haze, smiling into the yellow light, a coyote sprinted across the highway in front of my car. it was so close that i could see the individual strands of fur, could see its wild coyote face. had it paused a thousandth of a second to look at me, i would have killed it. and yet it disappeared through the brush on the other side and my car sped on without ever having hit the brake. the joy i feel driving on these roads on this place i can't begin to describe to you. i am not in texas anymore and i feel like i have escaped that life which was not my destiny.

for the last few years i've been working doing something which i'm good at but was miserable doing. i figured it out when i applied to grad school for creative writing in '04. by the time i got accepted in the spring, there i was. in new york city sitting in on an amazing class, knowing i'd be working with sharon olds, surrounded by interesting poets whom i genuinely wanted to know, completely interested in the discussion at hand... but it just didn't feel right. i had an overwhelming sense of ick. i wasn't ready to be a writer—or, rather—to be *just* a writer. in fact, it turned out that getting accepted was just the kick in the pants i needed to realize how much i wanted to be doing photography. there's that line in when harry met sally where he says "When you realize that you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible." this is how i felt once i had made my decision not to get an mfa. how do you make the rest of your life start right now? unfortunately, the answer seems to be "with infinite patience and a broad interpretation of the word now."

more than two years later, i'm finally here. and here is a 273-square-foot lofted cabin in a backyard in santa cruz, california. when i go to sleep at night, i can here the sea lions barking from the ocean, three blocks at the end of my street. my credit card overfloweth, my nose runneth, and i know not a soul, but i am finally, finally here at that precipice.

posted by amanda @ 2:00 PM 1 Comments