when i was 8 i wanted braces – i’d make my own with paper clips.

when i was 10 i wanted contacts – i’d suck on ice and put it in my eyes.

when i was 12 i wanted to be an alcoholic – and get caught, and have someone to fight with me, for me, love me, save me, hold me. instead i hid a bottle of whisky in the basement and counted bug bites and scars with my sister – we each wanted to have it worse off than the other.

at 12 i started smoking – under the bridge under a church, and cried when we got caught and lost our limousine ride.

at 12 i wanted, finally, boys instead of to be one, a boy – i wore showy clothes until a sketchy man followed us on a bus for days: she has a sweet ass. until we rode with mom who talked of target practice and our black belt tests and he never followed us again.

when i was 14 i wanted something to stand for: no war – beads in my hair, hacky sack circles, pot, green beret, red and blue lennon glasses. i’d smoke on the roof of the school and write my own basketball diaries.

when i was 16 i wanted to die, i lied. i wanted someone to discover me and find me worth loving, saving, holding, helping and tell me life would be ok. instead i found my sister and fought for my brothers.

at 28 i’m a perfectionist at 12 times 4 and want time to fu¢k up, with someone, a safety net, to catch me.

The post a perfectionist at 12 appeared first on Jewels.

if i’d have known you as a Saguero, i’d have hunted for your flowers at night: suckled stamina, swam in scents, and kissed each sweetly good night – before they close in morning (for eternity?)

if i’d have known you as a Vampire, i’d have been seduced into the quagmire of dead love – dived from the tallest sky ledge: a gyring peregrine to battle blind bat – no blood required for a beatless heart.

if i’d known you as a Gladiator, i’d have given you an iron mask to bask in the crowd’s glory before watching you die.

if i’d known you as a Man, i’d have held your hand, your body and your mind: loved you in every particle and antiparticle, vast as sand and rings of saturn – and let go.

The post desert poem appeared first on Jewels.

Then I received a letter from ODS saying that I was declined the health insurance I applied for over a month ago, because I answered “yes” to having ever gone to therapy. In the box provided, where they wanted to know what ailment I suffered from, I wrote: “trauma. somatic theraphy – not covered by insurance. not sure this is even applicable here. call me with any questions.”

I figure most of us have had a traumatic childhood or past at one point or another, so it seemed like an OK answer. I haven’t been diagnosed with any mental illness, learning disorder or personality disorder which is what I figured they were going after. I just want to learn new behaviors so I’m not stuck in the mind of a freaked out, frustrated and bitter 16 year old for the rest of my life.

Now I kick myself. I should have known to lie: “Nope, never gone to therapy. I don’t believe in a person’s ability to mature emotionally, nutrition’s role in physical and mental ailments or one’s right to better their experience of life.”

Really?

Apparently, their take is that people who seek out support and guidance are more likely to get sick or need a doctor or file a claim. Only my experience has been quite the opposite. Take, for instance, a friend who suffered from chronic headaches and muscle pains (she had an arm like Dick Cheney). She went to doctors and no one knew what was up. She then took a week long meditation retreat and “magically” the pains went away and she could move her arm again. Or a friend whose severe migraines stopped recurring after a few months of therapy. No more doctor visits, copays or claims needed. Hmmm…

I’m utterly confused. When will this country get its head out of its arse?

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Music:

• DJ Tiesto + Ferry Corsten
• Armin v Buuren
• Daft Punk

Movies:

• Oldboy
• Tale of two sisters (Janghwa, Hongryeon)
• House of flying daggers (Shi mian mai fu)
• Goodbye Lennin

Drunk recommendation:

• Kung Pao – can’t figure out what movie this would be after multiple searches on IMDB

The post To Watch, To Listen: Dutch Influence appeared first on Jewels.

Wow, who would have imagined how much time it’d take to develop and parse through 30 rolls of film and over 1,500 digital photos? Fine, laugh away…

Good news is that I’m slowly getting there and willing to share my portfolio and albums along the way. Just remember they’re not complete and I appreciate any and ALL feedback. You may also click through to comment on any photo directly on Flickr.com.

• Strangers: Portraits from the Road (in progress)
• American Sign Language (in progress)

info on the trip

The post Talk to Strangers Road Trip appeared first on Jewels.

My best girl from Portland, Elisabeth, met me here on Tuesday and since then we’ve managed to hit a couple of beaches, tour Wildstorm comics, an offshoot of DC and kill karaoke not once, but twice. My new favorite karaoke bar is also a classy hotel bar, like Suki’s back at home and folks rock out to air guitar on a fabulously blue blow-up guitar.

My favorite part of San Diego, other than Elisabeth time? Learning a couple Jack Johnson songs on the guitar, thanks to Allen from the Hostel Cat (pictured above), and adventuring onto the roof for sunrise. (Despite the hostel being in a shady part of downtown, the police station sat across the street and the gaslamp district was a mere 5 minute walk. If you’re born in the 80’s and like to party, then you’d likely enjoy this hostel.)

Today I’m looking forward to practicing the Jack Johnson, some romantic sight seeing starting with ocean views and seal pups, to Balboa park and then back to the beach for the sunset. Then it’s full speed ahead back to Portland for Jaik’s gallery show opening. It’s a 2 day drive if I skip the grand canyon, lake mead, death valley and yosemite …

The post San Diego and Jack Johnson appeared first on Jewels.

Luckily, my mother didn’t let that ruin my day. I woke at Marfa’s Mystery Lights rest stop, to photograph a Prada store in the middle of no where and a dying town, Valentine (not to be confused with Valentine, NE) and chase a UFO I now think may be a weather balloon. A few hours later, I stopped off in El Paso and learned some Spanish from some adorable parking lot attendants. “Quiero tomar una photo?” Along with “Como se llama?” I nabbed what I hope will be awesome photos and stories of locals. Bummed that I couldn’t go into Mexico, I left as soon as my 2 hr meter expired and made it to Tucson at dusk, rarely breaking the speed limit.

After a home cooked meal and 2 glasses of Texan wine, I crashed out early. I’m sooo glad to be out of Texas. Now I’m drinking the BEST bloody mary’s ever – compliments of the BEST bartender in Tucson, Hannah @ Hotel Congress. Thanks again Michelle & Joel – your friend rocks … maybe even a little more than I do.

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I wrangled the Ausie’s into signing up for a team and w00t, can Cricket players hit a ball! We all caught on quickly to win 2 games and advance to the championship game. It was looking meek when we were down 0-9 at the bottom of the first inning, but in what was hailed as the comeback of the century, we rallied to win at the bottom of the 7th and final inning 17-16. Nothing bonds people like winning together.

At the start, I wasn’t sure we were going to figure out how to function as a team. We were disorganized and at a slight disadvantage with a quarter of us unfamiliar with technicalities, like rules. I’d like to think that my chatty instigations and cheer leading helped pull us together … at least everyone knew my name. And by the final game, even though I sat out after the first inning with a smashed toe, everyone knew everyone and cheered everyone on. (Note to self for future games: catch the ball first, then tag the runner to avoid a stomping at home plate.)

I could go on about how much it rocked to play, and especially to win, but I’ve got a championship dinner at the Salt Lick to attend. Larry the Lawyer says it’s the best Texan BBQ in town.

The post On Being a Champion appeared first on Jewels.

If only New Orleans wasn’t such an awesome city, filled with fun and friendly people, delicious food and an abundance of liquor and festivals I wouldn’t be in this predicament. Yes, another sign that life on the road can be challenging.

Let me go back to the beginning. As a highway ferry transports me across the Mississippi, I transfer my love of Mississippi into Louisiana. Spanish moss hangs from statuesque oaks, black cats roll on the ground, baiting me to pet them, at the #1 haunted mansion in the world and Jaik’s mom welcomes me with the finest home cooked dinner I’ll have all trip. (I need to take better notes since I’m not quick with French, but the dinner included lots of crawfish in both etouffee and pizza and a French cake with 7 layers of pudding diving a rich, white cake.)

I spend Saturday learning all things Cajun and some of the Creole, before heading to the Atchafalaya basin, towards New Orleans. In Breaux Bridge, locals point me to a meat market for some famous Boudin (pronounced BOO-dan). Though the owner doesn’t want his picture taken, he packs a beer from his personal stash in the back, along with the purchased sausage and stuffed mushrooms in my cooler. And it continues to get better.

Once in NO, I manage to get the last dorm bed at the India House, the best hostel in the city and meet up with two fellow travelers I met back in Flagstaff. As we head for the French Quarter to check out the Friday night life, I text Hannah from Tucson. (She’s a friend of a friend I just met and absolutely adore.) A few excited messages later and we’re sitting in the bar Hannah used to work at, doing some shots with her best friend (in her honor of course) and making a positive first impression of the city.

The next day we set out for plantations and will have taken 10,000+ steps by the time we retire at 6am, including the time change. We all stay in the French Quarter and make a trip down Bourbon avenue: drunk people overflowing in the streets, each with beads, beers and fancy daiquiri to-go cups. We try the Texan sized mixed drinks and stand awestruck as a karaoke dj/performer dances MC Hammer style, complete with a standing flip. As we wind up our morning at the hotel, I learn Dutch while teaching Go Fish. Yep, I can really travel the world now with “give me”, “do you have”, numbers and face card names, “go fish” (my favorite!) and a swear word I cannot repeat.

Despite having to check out of our hotel only four hours after falling asleep, we find energy in Cafe du Monde’s coffee and beignets. And I can’t leave out the impressive troupe performing acrobatics and break dancing. Unfortunately, a lavish military performance for Extreme Home Makover across the street in front of the cathedral, forces a frustrated man with a megaphone to shut down the troupe. Apparently they can’t hear their TV show host above the music and fanfare from our crowd. (I’ll post a video, as the guys are phenomenal and I want Joe to learn these tricks. They walk up stairs on their hands, slide across the ground on their heads, break dance and make the grumpiest laugh.)

Lousiana is hard to leave. I want more days to tour the swamps, to walk the antique malls, eat Cajun and learn French. If I don’t get this ticket I may just have to go back.

The post Lovin and Leaving Louisiana appeared first on Jewels.

I make no guarantees I’ll get around to everything, but you’re welcome to ASK JEWEL and share your thirst for knowledge and crazy schemes.

If you’re willing to part with $20, I’ll even deliver a singing telegram upon request. Restrictions limit the song to one I can (easily) play on my guitar (and no, I couldn’t find a way to make Guitar Hero mobile), a stop along my route and no guarantee on time of delivery.

The post Ask Jewel appeared first on Jewels.