"Friday, I'm in Love" depicted visually.

I ADORE THIS. And waited until Friday to post it. Hat's off to the inimitable Rick Webb (via Ali, and also via Benjamin) for discovering this. I want this POSTER-SIZED over my BED.

I recently described myself to a (newer) friend as a writer. She – a very well-known blogger with a huge following and a book credit under her belt – looked at me suspiciously. She knows me as a Marketing Manager, an Event Planner, and as someone who employs the liberal use of curse words on Twitter. But writer? In her eyes, a "legitimate" writer herself, I was not.

At first my feelings were a little hurt, because this is always something I've considered myself to be. But within minutes, I realized that she – and others who only know me in this most recent incarnation of my life – don't see me that way. And frankly, they don't really have any reason to. It's been years since I've been published (save for Sarah Brown's amazing book, Cringe, and most recently, in Nick Douglas' book Twitter Wit), and even my posts on this site have become more sporadic, shifting much of my "writing" onto Twitter. Though this was a slow devolution, it's also one that I've been wishing to reverse. "Update my website" is perpetually on my To-Do list, and I've even tried to shift my thoughts from 140-characters back into real paragraph format. PARAGRAPHS, people. They still DO EXIST.

And so I've mentioned it to a few friends, noting that in my mental list of 2009 Resolutions (since I never got around to writing them down), "Begin freelance writing again" was near the top. Because it wasn't that I haven't been writing, as I write all of the copy for Digg, but I was afraid that I had lost the ability to write a post that didn't begin with "Hey everyone, Today we're excited to announce the launch of…". I was afraid I had lost my voice.

It's also not that writing is new for me; in Atlanta, I wrote two weekly columns for a local paper called The Sunday Paper, both in the shopping/fashion beat. I was a former freelance food editor for Citysearch, and even did a ton of corporate writing as well. But since I moved to San Francisco 4+ years ago, I have either been traveling too often or far too busy to pick up even one-off gigs. That, and I've been lazy. (Hey, I call a spade a spade.) I'd rather go out drinking with my friends than stay in writing to FUND going out drinking with my friends. But after a stark look at my finances – not to mention the fact that as with many things, writing is a skill requiring exercise, and without it, I was finding it difficult to put three logical words together – I decided it was time. Hell, it was overdue.

So by happenstance, a friend mentioned that one of the local SF sites was looking for a new tech writer. "Tech," I thought, "Now *THAT'S* something I have something to say about." And as it often is when things are meant to be, a few emails later, I was officially the new Tech blogger for SFWeekly.com. It's just a few posts a week, easily done after work or on the weekends since I'm still full-time here at Digg (and am elated that they're cool with me doing this!), so far it's been fun. (Check out a few of my first posts.)

So in my mental list of 2009 Resolutions, only 10 months in, I'm able to make my first (mental) checkmark. And maybe one day soon, when I tell someone I'm a writer, I'll know I'm justified in doing so.

I didn’t think that Rome, my new favorite song from Phoenix’s “Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix” album, could sound any better than when I heard it live the other week at The Warfield, and then Neighbors with Devendra Banhart came and just blew all of that right out of the water. 

“Like a lazy Ukulele, softly strummed among the ocean side palms, Neighbors and Devendra have longed to remix ANY Phoenix tune.

We LOVE and have LOVED Phoenix since Alphabetical, and have wanted to do more than just ogle at their awesomeness for quite some time. With the release of their luminary Wolfgang Amadeus Phoenix we got the chance to un-floccinaucinihilipilificate our dreams and with awesome, oceanic glee, we took Rome for a ride….. a mellow, meditative one, let’s bring out the candle-lit side, a side of the song suited for lucubration ! Cheeze whizz penis feels like a Burberrys still allowed was the name of studio we met at, had we been there before ? Was it all a dream ?………………”

Rome – Neighbours With Devendra Banhart Remix by Phoenix  
Download now or listen on posterous

Rome – Neighbours with Devendra Banhart Remix.mp3 (6981 KB)

"As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live."
– Goethe

Trust is a tricky subject. Trusting yourself, trusting others, and even distinguishing who is trustworthy can be beyond challenging. Often times we find ourselves disappointed by people, let down again and again, when it actually stems from you placing your trust in someone that doesn't deserve it. Or at least expecting something from someone who has given you no reason to expect that. 

My Mom often says "People tell you who they are. It's up to you to listen to them", and I believe that unquestioningly. It gets hard, however, when what the person is telling you – in words or actions – is something unsavory. Something unflattering. Something unhealthy. It's then when we begin to make excuses, trying to justify or rationalize their bad behavior or actions or traits into something acceptable. In essence, you're repainting the picture, creating a new mental image of them instead of accepting the reality of their being, flaws and all. This is when we get into trouble.

We begin viewing the person as we wish them to be, instead of who they are. We may not be doing this consciously, but it affects our relationship with them because our expectations no longer meet the reality. This only leads to disappointment.

As with most of us, I've had this experience in the past. Hell, in my present. I've wanted so much for people to be their best – looking at their potential and translating that into their false reality – that I ask more than they are prepared (or are willing) to give instead of accepting them for their faults and adjusting my behavior accordingly. Basically, I am not trusting them enough to let them behave authentically to themselves. I need to let people be who they are, however unflattering that is.

My friend Maggie linked to a great article in Oprah Magazine (DON'T JUDGE US!) about trust. It asks you to think of someone important to you and then answer the following questions about them. I'm not going to try and paraphrase; here's a snippet from the article (written by Martha Beck):

Here are a few obvious questions I've found very helpful in quantifying the trustworthiness of people in my own life. The first three are the "yes" questions; if Person X is completely trustworthy, you'll answer yes to all three. The second three are the "no" questions—if Person X deserves your trust, the answer to all three will be negative.

The "yes" questions: 

1. Does Person X usually show up on time?

2. When Person X says something is going to happen, does it usually happen?

3. When you hear Person X describing an event and then get more information about that event, does the new information usually match Person X's description?

The "no" questions: 

4. Have you ever witnessed Person X lying to someone or assuming you'll help deceive a third person?

5. Does Person X sometimes withhold information in order to make things go more smoothly or to avoid conflict?

6. Have you ever witnessed Person X doing something (lying, cheating, being unkind) that he or she would condemn if another person did it?

These questions might seem trivial. They're not. As the saying goes, "the way we do anything is the way we do everything." I'm not saying we have the ultimate power or right to judge others. But if you trust someone whose behavior doesn't pass the six screening questions above, your trust-o-meter may well be misaligned. If Person X rated more than one "no" on the first three questions, and more than one "yes" on the second three, they don't warrant total trust at present. If you trust someone who blew all six questions, you need some readjustments. You don't have to change Person X (you can't), but you do need to take a hard look at your own patterns of trust.

By the way, if you're now rationalizing Person X's behavior with arguments like "But he means well" or "It's not her fault; she had a terrible childhood," your trust-o-meter is definitely on the fritz. These are the small lies we use to tell ourselves we're comfortable when we aren't. It's not the end of the world if Person X lies to you. Lying to yourself, on the other hand, can make your life so miserable, the end of the world might be a relief.

Thinking of someone who was often hurting my feelings or letting me down, I completed this exercise with him/her in mind. I answered 'yes' to two questions in the first set, and answered 'no' to two in the second. According to the article, they don't "warrant total trust at present." I started to defend them, started to list all of the amazing things they do for me and the traits they have and then…I stopped. It was pretty clear there that the issues I was having stemmed from me just simply not being able to trust them. Or, put more accurately, them not warranting my trust. 

Even in realizing that someone is untrustworthy, we're stuck in a tricky situation. Initiating a conversation with someone where the message is, in essence, that you don't trust them, is uncomfortable. Painful, even. And often causes them to be defensive. I don't really have a solution for this – at least not a "one-size-fits-all" one, since this should be addressed on a case-by-case basis – but advocate two things: Trust the person to be who they are, however disappointing that reality may be for you. And while you're doing so, trust yourself that in doing so, you're actually changing your expectations, and helping your relationship with them in the long run. And then, my friend, as Goethe says, you're living.

But touch the sky? Come on. I may be blonde, but I'm not DELUSIONAL, R. Kelly. 

Regardless, I figured I'd put this theory to the test last week and went up in my first chartered plane EVER. Now, given the amount that I travel, it's unsurprising that I'm not afraid to fly. You'll often find me (hopefully upgraded to first class) asleep before we even leave the ground. That's not to say, however, that I wasn't a bit trepidatious to head up, up, and away in a teensy little plane. You know, the ones that are always crashing into mountains or are lost at sea. I had never even been in a plane this small, so when I asked Sam if we would be able to walk around in the cockpit, his reaction was as incredulous as it was when I asked if he had gotten a new watch to tell America time. (CAVEAT: Lots of alcohol was involved that night, and I was kidding. Totally. Really.) Anyway, the cockpit is TINY, and it was, in fact, smaller than my car, just as he had described. Kind of bummed that the Saabalamobile doesn't have plush, maroon velour seats and curtains, though. That was HOT.

But I was going up with a trained pilot, and one that I trust to not only fly me through the air, but also to do the really important things. Like make sure I get home when drunk. And not flush the toilet when I'm in the shower. TRUST IS IMPORTANT, PEOPLE. So when he suggested that we should "go for a fly" (say this in your most authentic New Zealand accent for the full effect) I figured "why not?" The worst that would happen is that we'd die, and I already have someone lined up to burn my diaries & hide other unsavory items, lest my parents find them, so the contingency plans were well in place.

I wasn't sure what to expect…I had thought it would be very loud and quite a bit bumpy. But either to the credit of Sam (most likely) or the fact that the day was super calm (probably didn't hurt), the takeoff was so smooth I hadn't even realized that we were off the ground until we were a ways up. The rest of the flight was quiet; peaceful, even. I had on the headphones so I could listen to the traffic control tower, which was also really interesting. We did a circuit – which included flying around a bit then doing a touch-and-go, where you land and then immediately take off again – and before I knew it the flight was over. Which sucked…I had heard great stories about this super exclusive in-flight club you could join, and I had hoped to apply for a membership exception since we weren't technically a mile up. 

Damn, maybe next time. 

I love to travel. And in my short(ish) life, I've been lucky enough to have seen some amazing places on this fine earth. Puerto Rico. Aruba. London. Paris. Cannes (for the Film Festival). Amsterdam. Munich. Sydney, a few times. My favorite New Zealand city to say, Putaruru. (Ok, not sure I've actually *seen* this place, but I've definitely seen a street sign directing me to it. POO-TAHR-ROO-ROO…what a great word!) Beijing (once for work, once for the Olympics.) Seoul. Pyongyang, North Korea. (Don't ask, it's a story best left for another day.) And now, after much wishing and hoping and thinking and praying (my respects to Burt Bacharach), I can finally say, Greece. 

My dear friend Maggie – she of MightyGirl fame – has created a life list, 100 things she wants to do before she kicks it. I think this is a wonderful, inspirational practice, and something that has remained on my "To-Do" list for way too long. In fact, I think I should get to that soon, shouldn't I? Enough about me, however. One of the items on Maggie's life list involved going to Greece…and here's where it gets fun.

Intel stepped in. As part of their Sponsors of Tomorrow campaign, they offered to help Maggie out with checking things off on her life list. And this trip did just that, and more. 

Along with the lovely Laura Mayes, we had a blast.

We made new friends.

We tried new foods.

We saw the sights.

We relaxed.

We partook of the local culture.

And we took photos..

OH YES, how we took photos. (You can see a pretty huge subset of mine here on Flickr.)

It was lovely.
It was BEYOND lovely.
I opened my computer two – yes, you read that correctly, TWO – times in two weeks. That's ONCE A WEEK for you non-math majors. Unheard of in this here internetty age o' electronic attachment. What did we do instead?

We read.

We wrote postcards.

And, ok fine, you got me, we *may* have texted now and again. 

After it all, we took our sun-kissed bodies and calm(er), relaxed minds back to our real lives, and the blue skies and waters of Greece have started to become a facsimile of their stunning, azure blue realities. But as Laura so aptly coined, Greece is the word. And what a word it is.

My endless, eternal thanks to Intel for sponsoring Maggie's dream, and helping make this trip possible for all of us. My tomorrows will never be quite the same after this jaunt. I dedicate all my nine-hundred thousand Flickr photos in beautiful, warm afternoon light, to the people there. Especially this one.

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Sullivan: September 6, 2000-September 6, 2009, originally uploaded by Aubs.

Having pets is one of the best choices I’ve ever made. It’s also one of the hardest because quicker than any other relationship in your life, you experience a condensed version of all of the stages. The delight in meeting your new friend and incorporating them into your life, learning about their idiosyncrasies, becoming exasperated during their ‘teenage’ (kitten/puppy) years, settling into their patterns, and finally as they ease into old age. And in the latter stage is where it gets the hardest.

I’ve owned four pets as an adult. When I lived in Atlanta, I had hoped to get a dog, but alas, my travel (and my jerk roommate at the time who owned the apartment I lived in) prevented this from becoming a reality. I decided, then, to get Sebastian, a docile little stray that I got from the Atlanta Humane Society. He was a ball of fur, and a delight to have around; until, that is, he turned 6 months old. Something seemed to have snapped in his kitty brain; formerly docile, he would attack anyone who stepped foot in the house, latching onto their leg and refusing to let go. After a few successive trips to the vet trying to figure out not only what was wrong, but what we could do to fix it, we settled on the solution of getting him a friend. “He’s bored!” they said. So a few months later, along came Sullivan.

Sullivan was a teeny little kitten as well, but little did I know that he’d soon turn into a…well, a hoss. He was QUITE A CAT, pushing nearly 20 lbs. in his heyday, despite everyone’s best efforts to get him more exercise and decrease his (diet) food intake. Perhaps it was a thyroid or glandular problem; I prefer to say he just had more to love, this small-headed, big-bellied roly-poly ball of fur.

And he was the SWEETEST. Always wanting to be around you, he’s the only cat I’ve ever met who responded on command. Not sure how we came to know this, but with the right command, he would roll over on his back, not-so-subtly soliciting belly rubs. His favorite place to hang out was the bathroom sink; getting him to move out of it so I could brush my teeth was a daily occurrence. His eyes were big and alert, giving him a sort of perpetual ‘deer-in-headlight’ look about him. Loving to people but trepidatious in nature, I never worried about him running away, getting in a fight, and being anything other than a sweet, loving, semi-obese feline o’ love.

Last winter I noticed the hair on his back seemed to be thinning, and taking him to the vet revealed that he was actually biting the hair out. Not a skin-disease as originally thought, it was more of a warning sign; the visit prompted a full series of blood tests, where we learned he was actually in the midst of kidney failure, a result of kidney disease. After going through this exact diagnosis a few years earlier with my (now-deceased) cat Samantha, I knew what this entailed. Kidney disease – while not painful – is irreversible. You can enter into treatment – low-protein food, IV fluids to keep them hydrated – but at some day in the near future, you’re going to have to make a very hard decision.

That day was this past Sunday. And it was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life.

I had been traveling for a few weeks, and while I was away he hadn’t been eating as much as normal, but upon my return on Saturday night, he was happy to see me and seemed to be in great spirits. Yet by the next morning, it was very clear that he wasn’t feeling like himself. We had found him hiding in the closet, something very uncharacteristic of his personality. The other signs were there, and while this may sound really contradictory, this made the whole decision easier. I think I was secretly worried that I wouldn’t know when it was his time to go, but seeing him so unlike his jovial self (in addition to a few other noticeable signs) helped prepare me for the most gut-wrenchingly painful decision I’ve ever made. As cheesy as it may be, I think he was holding out until I retuned to let me know that it was time to say goodbye.

It’s still too recent, too raw, too painful to write more than this – tears are actually streaming down my face as I write this – but Sunday afternoon we took him to the vet and said our final goodbyes. Sullivan was calm; peaceful, even.

It was a few hours later before I realized the significance of the date; Sullivan was exactly nine years old when we bid him a final farewell. So instead of choosing to grieve for his death, we instead chose to spend the rest of the afternoon walking around by the water, trying to enjoy the sunshine and quietly, hand-in-hand along the Bay, celebrate the nine years that he was in my life.

RIP, Sullivan. I know you’re up there somewhere, hangin’ out in the big bathroom sink in the sky.

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Voilà – Mykonos!!, originally uploaded by Aubs.

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Sunset in Oia, originally uploaded by Aubs.

A sneak peek of the photos to come from our trip to Greece.

.flickr-photo { border: solid 2px #000000; }.flickr-yourcomment { }.flickr-frame { text-align: left; padding: 3px; }.flickr-caption { font-size: 0.8em; margin-top: 0px; }

Sunset over the Caldera, originally uploaded by Aubs.