I'm a Lady Rocker Now

This post is a wee bit personal in nature in so far as it involves my hair, and the cutting of. Don't worry, no long diatribes about my commitment phobic nature, struggle to be loved, and constant duality....yet.

So I got my hair cut!!! I got it cut at a place within ten blocks from where I live, named Hair Today. The external cutting of the hair is in my mind a very shallow event, but as any self reflective girl or a Sikh can tell you there is deep psychological significance to the act.

The Sikh's believe as part of their 5 main tenets of faith that one should never cut any hair on ones body, ever. Hair is considered "God given", therefore should be accepted and honored as a creation of the Divine. The personal implication is to avoid vanity, any kind of tampering with yourself that leads to a greater ego.

I can understand where they are coming from. This haircut has not necessarily sent me on a megalomaniac rampage for compliments, but it has helped me lay the groundwork for a newer identity to grow (and it needs coaxing along with compliments!!). It's the sense of Self and the ever hurtling quest for identity that drives me. Will I be more emotionally independent now? Stronger as a person? More magnetic? Able to handle myself better now that my external matches what I see internally? I don't know. I don't believe a haircut can really change us all that much, but it can give us an illusion of difference, quite possibly enough to start us down that road.


P.S. The very fact that I just used photo booth to snap some pics shows that I'm on the road to becoming to the newer, better, more vain Kyla.

Grit, Carnies and the Like

There is nothing more nostalgic or reminiscent for me than a summer evening at the Lane County Fair. I remember the growing excitement in my gut that first week in August, knowing that it was right around the corner. This year's fair was every bit expensive, tempting, and delightfully ridiculous as years past. Sarah, Sean, and I spent an afternoon at the fairgrounds wandering aimlessly, stopping when something entertained us, taking in everything our eyes magnetized to: observing a horrifying near fatal motor cross crash, downing a deep fried twinky, 'Ridin' the Dragon', watching pigs race, hanging with a Roo at the Aussie Outback tent.

Here is a link to the the entire fair pics gallery.



Now I'll share a video for you of the All Alaskan Pig Racers

On Travel

My favorite blog has taken up the side topic of traveling, in a philosophical and international sense, here are a few quotes that really caught my eye. It fits in with the mission of this blog, which is the striving to truly know your immediate surroundings.

The intellect is vagabond, and our system of education fosters restlessness. Our minds travel when our bodies are forced to stay at home.-Emerson

The human bond that he feels at home is not an illusion. On the contrary, it is rather an inner reality. Man is inside all men. In a real sense any man may be inside any men. But to travel is to leave the inside and draw dangerously near the outside.- Chesterson

At home I dream that at Naples, at Rome, I can be intoxicated with beauty, and lose my sadness. I pack my trunk, embrace my friends, embark on the sea, and at last wake up in Naples, and there beside me is the stern fact, the sad self, unrelenting, identical, that I fled from.- Emerson

The proper conservative resistance to travel is not, therefore, a blinkered resistance to the new; it is an understanding that we have never fully absorbed or understood what we already know; that the places we love are still mysterious, and understanding of them should never be mistaken for simple familiarity. Seeking new superficialities at the expense of familiar depths is a neurosis, not an adventure.-Andrew Sullivan, on tourism.

A Brief Overview

The picture above is of Roger and Woz, the newly married couple that Sean and I became very close with in a short period of time. Sigh. They are are Ithaca, NY bound as I write this.
A cool piece of art work at the new waffle place in town, Off the Waffle. These guys are amazing. Took Sean on his word that he would pay them, gave us two Banana infused waffles with chocolate chips. Yyyyuuummm!
You can tell by the look on Sean's face that he is tired, way too optimistic, and weary of my constant photo snapping. We were lost on Mt. Pisgah for 5 hours, luckily we found our way back to our car right before dark.
Two Fridays ago Sean's friends were in town for the Eugene Marathon. We were all walking home from The Vintage and around 7:45pm we looked to our right and saw a big gathering of drunken carolers around a bonfire in an apartment complex on 10th and Lincoln. It was like a tractor beam, I was pulled towards the chaos. In this picture, "Hash Mother" and the ringleader of all events with the bedpan.

Sean laying out in front of the new Cornucopia.

View from a log looking down river near McCredie Hot Springs.

An awesome log tee-pee built by the Willamette on the West Bank Tral.

Mountains.

Shortly after Sean and I found out that he had not been accepted to University of Indiana, we took a walk on Mt. Pisgah. Our inevitable separation seemed cemented with his little letter from Indiana. As we walked, and meandered through Mt. Pisgah's open meadows, dark forests, and labored it's steep inclines I realized we were working through our internal struggle with every step.

Sean was divided and spent on what to do with his life. I was as well, but feeling an ego boost from my recent acceptance letter. We made it up to the top that day. We took a skinny side trail down, leaving us wandering for hours---working through our immediate frustration as well. The importance of Mountains.

Chickens

"Hi neighbors,

Missin some chickens? I have three visitors I think, as I write this. You can come over any time to round them up. They're no problem, Bill (The Cat) is a little confuse. Being a city boy.
I take it that's not your van bench seat out front. Not ours either. Oh well.

Take care

-Pat"

"Damn this Valley, and Damn this Cold"

Despite teeth chattering temperatures, it was a bright day that illuminated the sky into a fluorescent blue. My mom and I took a quick hike on Mt. Pisgah in the afternoon and Sean and I went to the Interfaith service, followed by a dark beer at the Monroe St. Cafe. Pictures and video to follow.

The interfaith service is a collaborative effort amongst all of the faith communities in town to share their beliefs and practices in order to promote tolerance. It was borne out of 9/11 in an act to further dialogue between faiths. While this message is left firmly intact, given the time and place (Eugene, OR. @ 7pm) of this event it can degenerate into a rather strange circus. I am not meaning to be disrespectful to those religions that are represented at the service, but instead to the new agey movements/cults bordering on self devotion. Hence, "The Ascended Masters"... a group that took the stage tonight, that thoroughly freaked me out. Below is what they are chanting, and also a video (coming soon!)

"Om Mani Padme Hum, AUM
In the name I AM THAT I AM, I pray for the
washing, cleansing, spinning, raising, and
sealing of the earth and its evolutions with
the violet fire, for the transmutation of all
karma, burden, suffering and substance
that opposes the dawning of the great golden age
of Aquarius and all light-bearers this day.

Wash the earth in violet fire! (4x)
Cleanse the earth in violet fire!(4x)
Spin the earth in violet fire! (4x)
Raise the earth in violet fire!(4x)
Seal the earth in violet fire! (4x)

In the fullness of your cosmic joy, we accept
this prayer manifest here and now with full
love, wisdom and power, anchored in the
earth, air, fire, water and ether and tangibly
manifest our lives and in the lives of all evolutions
of light throughout the cosmos!

My favorite is when they chant "Spin EUGENE IN VIOLET FIRE!" It's around the 1 minute mark.

The Monroe St. Cafe is a little hole in the wall that is comprised of a cafe, convenience store, and bar. It's the kind of place you would find me on a rainy night playing a game of scrabble, reading, or writing. I've heard tell of their wondrous open mic nights, but have never attended one. I wasn't ready to settle down after the Interfaith madness, so we dashed on over to Monroe St. to check out the fireworks. It was definitely more than we bargained for, it was the most impressive open mic night I have ever been to. Granted, when we first walked in there was a drag queen reading erotic poetry in a whisper of a voice being drown out by raging customers acquiring beer and wine. Sean was turned off by this, I was turned on. The rest of the night ranged from Jr. Soapbox, a dude from Missouri who wore overalls and had a slight lisp, to a rather impressive young woman singer songwriter.

I am not sure what it is, but whenever I am in completely authentic settings of local culture and creativity I feel walled in. I feel as if my soul is not as free as those around me; they actively create in the world and I generally sit on the sidelines and watch these people. My new goal is to live more freely, unrestrained by insecurity and apprehension.

Great night.

'What the Hell Dat?!'

Oh, what a night...late February back in 2009. I'm a volunteer with the Oregon Toxic's Alliance. I agreed to help them with a fundraising event this evening, a Zydeco dance at the local bar referred to as "The Hodeo" by most Eugenians. The Logging Convention was in town for the week, and as I'm sure the Hodeo is a main hot spot for their patronage, the "damn tree hugging bastards" were holding an event there tonight. As I sat innocently at my small table, holding literature on the proposed Insecticide Drop over South Eugene (More on this later), and the dangers of "topping off" at the pump a brusque gentleman weighing about 330 lbs strolled in, looking bewildered by the table and by my presence. This was a normal occurence for the night....for we had about half of our guests show up this way, as if every single one of them had "logger" tatooed on their forehead. It's dissapointing when stereotypes are fufilled by loggers or by lefties. I explained that this was a Zydeco Dance (the word 'Zydeco' was tough to move past...) benefit for the Oregon Toxics Alliace. This gentleman took one look at the sign next to my raffle basket that read "Free From Pesticides" with a pastel hummingbird floating above the words and remarked "I ain't down with no tree huggin' hippy shit!"...then, just as he was to turn around to leave he caught a glimpse of one of our attendees with her Mardi Gras mask on...and exclaimed this time... "What the HELL IS THAT!" right into her face.

Ah, what a harmonious blending of two political-social cultures. I love Eugene.

There was an amazing band playing tonight, Voodoo Mountain Zydeco.

More on the pesticide drop in South Eugene...I plan on fighting this one to the death, because it could very well effect me directly in addition to a school, two parks, and about 1500 South Eugene homes. Please read up on it.

Brewfestin' w/ Kimmie Jimmie

Last weekend was the annual KLCC Brewfest held at the Lane County Events center about 4 blocks from my house. While it happens every year I have typically been too cheap to attend. In retrospect, I was an idiot not willing to indulge in the luxuries of my place and time. It was $15 to get in and $1 for each tasting...which was half a pint. It was incredible. I was lucky to have my most enjoyable companion along with me, Kimmie "jimmy". We circled the brew tables probably about 50 times, running into former teachers, former volunteers, current volunteers, a kitten foster parent, and 'Old Man Dancing' (see video below).

Below is a list of my top five favorites from the night.

1) 'Seven Grain' Porter from Hopworks Brewery (Portland, OR.)
2) Wild Blueberry
3) Oakshire Wheat (Eugene, OR)
4) Waconda Amber Ale (Florence, OR)
5) Too tipsy to remember this one, was from Bend, OR!

Saturday was one of the happiest nights of my life. I was completely unabashed and out there, yet not too embarrassing to warrant any harsh criticism. Kimmie is my perfect counterpart in these situations because, well, she is "more composed" than the average Kyla on an average night. She lets things slide, and for this I am grateful.

This man, lovingly referred to as 'Old Man Dancing' in the community was at the Brewfest on Saturday twirling to the Essentials. His dance moves are legendary, his glitter and long white hair proudly displayed. The video below will be worth millions someday, or maybe already is. Thank you, Old Man Dancing.

Whitaker Art Walkin'

"There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . . And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . . So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark — that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back."- Part of Hunter S. Thompson's 'Wave Speech'

I've always felt connected to the West Coast, specifically the Pacific Northwest. I can LIVE here. This place is still wild. We are new. There is a romantic notion that sometimes only proves itself true in spirit- that the West is the land of prosperity, unbridled freedom, and progressiveness. It's much more complicated in reality, but it is tough not to see the spirit of this freedom all around us.

I've often wondered if I would fit in better on the East Coast. My new friend, Anne, is from Philadelphia. She is awesome, elegant, and I find that we have many subsurface qualities in common. I dig her. Which coast do you identify with?

Sean, Dr., Anne and I meandered through the streets of Whitaker, awake to the sounds of drunk bohemians screaming about art and champagne. After an hour long conversation with Anne over wine, we went to the Blair Street Housing Co-Op. The co-opers were putting on a show of enjoyable Cuban drum beats with a Japanese singer.

I've been considering this thought recently, spurred by 'Revolutionary Road'---the idea that 'maturity' translates to settling in, down, and becoming comfortable. To actually live, take chances, travel, experience culture on a moment-by-moment basis is considered 'flighty'. What say you?

From the Land of Tuva!

About a week ago Sean and I went to see 'Daughters of Tuva', an all women Tuvan throat singing band at Beall Concert Hall on the U of O campus. Until recently, women were not allowed to perform throat singing in their native land because it was thought to cause infertility or even death. We sat next to woman who had just moved to Eugene from a small coastal town near Newport. She was quick witted and a little eccentric---we had fun laughing at some of the more traditional songs (which included loud grunting and sheep noises).

From the wikipedia article about Tuvan music: " The musician's intention was usually to emphasize timbre and harmonics over rhythm. The performances were often in places of natural acoustics such as caves, cliffs, rivers, and so on. The performer would often take long pauses to allow nature its own chance to converse back. The modern music found today is often composed of ensembles of musicians playing multiple instruments and often is much more pulsatile than its traditional uses".

Shamanism is prevalent in Tuva, so much of the music is seen as a utilitarian device to converse with nature or to help herd sheep.

Below is a video of the last song they performed.

Knowing Our Place

I have always been a very place oriented person. While residing in my head most of my early days, I found joyous escape from the toils of my thoughts in my environment. Personality, ideology, basically every facet of my identity is an emanation of my place, my home.

This blog is going to be about living on Lawrence St. in Eugene, OR. and all the crazy experiences/ideas/people/cats/philosophical musings that occur within the 10 blocks around it. These two pictures were taken today 1/29/2009 at 5pm within two blocks of our apartment.

What is your environment like?

Consider this article about the effects of city life on the average persons brain. I thought it was just the alcohol...