What the Hell.

 

Right now seems like a good time to start writing again.

Somewhere along the line of life I forgot about blogging. Things happened. I somehow got myself busy with life. I put on my big girl pants and got a full time job. I moved the fuck out of my parents house and in with my boyfriend. I ended up starting a furry-child army and now I have three dogs and at the rate I collect dogs, I'll have 20 in no time. I cook every day like an idiot. There are reasons why restaurants exist yet I don't use them often. I like to get around and go places or spend entirely too much time at Dodger Stadium. My boyfriend recently decided to upgrade his title to fiancé via this thingamabling on my finger. Holy shit, I might be an adult now. Kinda. Sorta. I'm getting there. 

I just got back last week from a trip to Belize and Guatemala. I have A LOT to stay about both countries in the very short amount of time I spent there. I was gone a week and felt like I saw a lot. I talked to a lot of locals. I drove people crazy with the millions of questions I asked and wrote down things I can't even read because apparently when I write, I write in a secret language only my hand knows. Hands: Please communicate to eyes. Thank you. 

I'm going to try to start blogging again. Like really blogging. Like actually writing down my thoughts whether jumbled or not and click the PUBLISH button and get it out there. We'll see how I do, but I'd like to document how completely bat-shit crazy I go over the next however many years...

America, I'm learning you.

It's possible that I may be going through some sort of quarter life crisis, or maybe my mind stopped filtering out spontaneous acts of fiscal recklessness. I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking today, but I did something very dumb and it's taking me to the heart of Middle America: Ohio.

In my younger years, I always looked at the map of the US and said FUCK ALL THIS SHIT IN THE MIDDLE. I never really cared about travel because I was stupid, superficial and materialistic. I was so ethnocentric that anything outside of California, NYC or Miami, I honestly thought was below me and a waste of time. I never cared nor did I want to. I  closed my eyes, put my hand over my ears and yelled obscenities at the thought of anything other than my precious California.

As a side note, I also partly blame that on being wrapped up in a world of equines, the dressage kind of equines, the most bloody expensive sport in the world, with the least amount of participants that cannot even fake being down-to-earth. I surrounded myself with obsessive loonies. I was an obsessive loony. Granted while a few of my closest friends are still those obsessive loonies, they're not on the level of those psychotropic drug abusing elitists I rode with.

Then something happened. Something major happened.  Somewhere between selling my horse and getting royally fucked by a 'best friend' in the deal,  my very first trip to Europe care of my loving parents, a horrendous break-up of a relationship that lasted entirely too many years, a post-break up party binge, and whatever other shit I went through --- I woke up. I was enlightened. I found that America is not so bad after all. All the areas in the US so often belittled by media (Utah, Kentucky, North Carolina are prime examples) are the areas that make up REAL America. Hardworking, genuine, kind people. By the dozens (or thousands). I love real America. I am in love with Utah and all you ever hear is OMG EW MORMONS EW OMG. Zion? Arches? Canyonlands? DE QUE HABALS!? I learned that food in real America tastes better. That people care more. That you'll get for what you asked for instead of being told to deal with it and to pay for it with your first born.

I learned I actually despise California, the people in this state, the lifestyle this state promotes and the type of people this state breeds. From this point, I could rant on and on about the Hollywood crowd, the hypocritical liberal non-liberal policies of this state and the surplus of brainless blonde or Kardashian wanna-be drones. But I'll stop here, mainly because I'd like to sleep at some point tonight.

My point is that I'm going to see America. Real America. Not Hollywood back-drop or green-screened America. The America with a backbone and integrity. Abandoned warehouses, abandoned steel-mills, pig farms, the stark contrast between the influx of southern hospitality and the abrasiveness of eastern european culture. From fried chicken and smothered biscuits to kielbasas and chicken paprikash, as perfected over the generations. I will learn Ohio through its cuisine, and yes, that includes some chili on pasta. 

Canyonlands.

 

Jamie and I absolutely love Southern Utah. 

Besides the fact that Jamie and I love hiking and adventures, Southern Utah provides us with more than that. We can find that here in California. We both have a passion for anthropology (pre-Colombian culture in particular), Southwest cuisine and old westerns. You can't take a step into old Utah without all of the above overlapping one another.  

What southern Utah DOES have is an economy solely run off of small and friendly businesses. No Walmarts or any other chains allowed. Mom and pop restaurants and hotels --- featuring Puebloan people artwork and photographs dedicated to Utah's Puebleon people's history, restaurants that heavily use Anasazi beans and locally hunted game meats. Some restaurants will offer 'cowboy' meals where everything is cooked for an entire day in a cast iron dutch oven. Hikes in the middle of nowhere, you'll find petroglyphs along the canyon walls. A couple of hours drive in any direction and you'll find Puebloan ruins. If you want to get lost in ancient American history, I suggest getting lost in Utah. 

Maybe it's just better in theory.

There's a disoriented moth on my screen. I've flicked it several times and it refuses to find another light to perch on, and it also refuses to die. Irritating.

A number of months ago I started working in a different field of law - Estate Planning and Probate
 (hereinafter EPP as i'm too lazy to keep typing that shit). I'm not sure how Family Law isn't tied into this field because other than guardianship issues, it's pretty much all the same crap anyway. Now while I suppose a majority of EPP seems like paper pushing work, it's by far the most soul-sucking, heart-wrenching and downright dirty law I've worked in to date. Granted I've never personally worked in criminal, but I think that's fairly obvious: X person commits crime, X person sees trial, X person either serves time or doesn't. Fees typically attached.

Seriously though, I know humans by default are more greedy than giving. I understand the concept of wanting it all. I get that we want to have our cake and eat it too. For fuck's sake I'm an only child and I never learned to share and I don't think I ever will. So, I sorta get that mentality in a way. What blows my mind is how careless people can be with money that belongs to his or her deceased parents or other relative. How children can go from grieving to draining a million dollar account in a matter of minutes. How Trustees can commit breach of fiduciary duty against beneficiaries --- usually the trustee's own siblings or children. How sick can one be? How can one steal $400,000.00 from entitled siblings and refuse to pay it back? WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH THIS FUCKED UP WORLD? Brothers getting judgments against one another. Sisters will contesting over appropriated and gifted jewelry. Sons wanting to know when the estate can start distributing the cash gifts from said son's newly deceased mother. Seriously?

Worse, and by a long margin --- I sit and watch an elderly woman that is dying of a terminal illness get  her bank account cleaned out day by day by her Filipina caretaker. Blowing $8,000 on this dying woman's card this month like it's water. Nordstrom's shoes, $300+ lunches, Louis Vuitton purses, $30,000.00 loans and not paying on the promissory note, calling me and asking for her paycheck days in advance. The caretaker reeks of this vile perfume I'm fairly certain she bathes in. She comes in and leaves me with a stack of bills on my desk to pay for the client and my desk smells for the rest of the day. I'm left gagging every time. I've gotten to the point where I can't even fake a smile when I see her. Chipper and cheery? Fuck you, I wish YOU were the one that was dying, you scummy bitch. I see what a scummy piece of shit she is. Everyone sees it. Then I get phone calls from a crying client who tells me she's bedridden and the 'kids' (the caretaker and her husband) "really need her" and to go ahead and advance thousands of dollars for the "emergency oral surgeries" needed for their poor, poor family in the Philippines. As if out-right spending her money wasn't bad enough, but to lie and manipulate an innocent older woman that's just trying to help thinking it's TRULY NEEDED is BEYOND wrong. If the client's caretaker got hit by a mack truck and flattened like a pancake I would happy. Karma's a bitch, as they say.

I just don't understand it. I've been bad with my money in the past. I've been reckless with credit cards and I've not paid my bills on time. I spent my entire late teens and early 20s blowing money on horses and clothing like I was a millionaire. Damn, I sure looked it... But either way, I was careless with my own money, and careless with billion dollar company's credit lines. I'm sure they could give a damn. I've never hurt anyone directly with money. I used to steal $20 here and there from my mom when I was in my teens to go buy food, booze (ya-ya, whatever), or get my nails done. She knew it though and it was one of those things that went unmentioned because she didn't care. I've never taken even a penny from a stranger, much less a friend or a relative. I may not want to share my water, and I'll have a hard time actually sharing my true recipes without altering something, but for fuck's sake I'd never manipulate or just straight steal anything from anyone. Boggles my mind. I'm so sad for all the people out there who cash paper, hurt the ones they supposedly love and think that's the key to life.

On a separate note, I'm leaving for a quick vacation on Friday. It couldn't come at a better time. My job is hurting my heart too much.

Orb.

It's June, the sun is still peeking its face just slightly over the mountain and I have a sweater on. I guess this is June-Gloom. I, myself, am gloomy. There is no real reason for said gloominess. It's an emotion that has reared its ugly head for some odd reason or another and it too shall pass.

I saved a dog's life and kept her. Her name is Trona, named after the Trona Pinnacles (see picture above) where I found her. Trona is the polar opposite of my Sierra Havana. Trona is my nightmare dog and everything I never wanted in a dog but I just can't help but love her anyway. I'm a Doberman person and she's a Chesapeake Bay Retriever/Choc Lab mix. Dobermans listen and Retrievers do not. They also have long tails that knock water glasses off of coffee tables, thick long hair that sticks to everything, and attention deficit disorder. Maybe that's why I love her, because I understand where she's coming from. I'm clumsy, I shed long dark hair on everything and I'm most certainly ADD. Or so WebMD and all the ADD med advertisements on TV have told me.

I also started getting back into horses, and please put on the record that I state that with utter disdain. I get sucked into this vortex of ponies and more ponies and nothing but ponies. A few months ago I was planning my next trip somewhere around the world and now I'm looking to spend said ticket money on an expensive saddle. What the FUCK is wrong with me? Maybe it's been too long since I've been on a plane. It's been almost a year since I've had some out-of-California adventure. Thankfully I have an E-ticket in my inbox, and I'm going out of state in July. I'm hoping that redirects my focus on travel. Adventures are far less frustrating than a 1200 pound animal. Focus. On. Adventures.

I don't know how people sit still in the same place for so long. Considering I'm a hermit, I don't REALLY understand myself. I never want to do anything other than sit at home and save my mere pennies for hobbies. But then I get restless because I don't do anything other than sit at home. For once I'm in an environment that at least keeps me outside enough to be happy enough.  I guess that is not saying much.

Move on.

Sometimes when I see these lazy horses walking through my backyard I wish I still had my old horse, Charm. Not that I terribly miss her, or riding, or the care, or the cost, or any of the above... But I miss knowing that if that were her backyard her bitchy, territorial self would chase that damn horse out of the backyard.

What drives me crazy is when I'm fighting off a cold that's attempting to metastasize into something greater than an irritation, and I have to deal with a dog pacing around the house growling at the gigantic four-legged, spotted thing 10 feet outside the window. Needless to say I'm grouchy from it. Whatever. I just need to get better. Pronto.

We're moved in.

Don't mind the shitty fridge, Jamie and I are going to replace it like we did the shitty stove that was there before...

Anyway. We're moved in and we're happy. Our bedroom is still a complete mess but somehow his office has come together, my kitchen is totally set up and our living room has been overly used already. The bathrooms are half-organized. Sierra seems pretty settled but she needs more time to adjust.