A favorite memory from last time

I didn’t mention this in my big Burning Man write-up two years ago, but one of my favorite moments that year went like this:

It was one of the earlier nights, Wednesday maybe. I was on the Sol System dance floor, and the mushroom goddess was with me. I was wearing lots of fuzzy green stuff. I was dancing with VERY BIG MOVEMENTS. It was so fun. My arms and legs went all the way out to the other side of the world. This guy walked by taking pictures. For a few minutes I danced just for him and his camera, with those VERY BIG MOVEMENTS of my limbs. It felt like I was an alien from another planet, and he was taking pictures of me for some kind of nature magazine. Documenting a new green species. I would do almost anything to see those pictures.

Anxious

I’m leaving for Burning Man in a couple of hours. Yesterday morning Daniel and I picked up the cargo van I will be sleeping in. It’s big and pristine white, and I think I love it.

My preparation was very minimal this year. I didn’t start buying stuff until yesterday, but somehow I feel very well prepared. I definitely feel ready. I’m ready to ride my bike across the open playa, screaming or singing at the top of my lungs. I cannot wait to do that. I’m ready to prance around in boy shorts and Buffalo boots and shake my ass at anyone who will listen. I’m ready to wear the blue, star-shaped pasties I bought today. I’m ready to convene with the mushroom goddess. I’m ready to have smily conversations with random strangers. I’m ready to bare my skin and soul to whoever feels like a good fit. I’m ready to feel lonely and awkward and insecure among 35,000 people. I’m ready to feel all my feelings to the fullest. I’m ready to go there, wherever it decides to take me. And finally, I’m ready to return to the other, the “real” city and hang out with the very nice and very real boy I have been hanging out with.

I haven’t made much effort to figure out where all my favorite people are going to be camping. I know that I’m going to run into whoever I’m supposed to run into. I’m leaving it all up to the Universe.

Oh, and in case you missed them:
Burning Man 2004 pictures from my camera | from other people’s cameras.

I was eating a slice of pizza on the street in North Beach today

And this black guy walked by, looked at me and looked at my pizza and said “What kind of pizza is that? Vegetarian?” I said “Yep, it’s veggie.” He kept walking but then he turned back around and said “You’re skinny enough; you don’t need to eat that.” I said “I’m not trying to lose weight.” He kept walking, and I started laughing.

Sergio

When I was an exchange student in Pasadena, California in 1993 I sometimes went to the swimming pool at the Rose Bowl. The Rose Bowl was only a couple of blocks from my host family’s house. The first time I went, there was this life guard there. He was cute and very tan, although later I would find out that he wasn’t actually tan but Mexican. He smiled at me and said hi. I smiled back and said hi. I thought he was very cute.

The next time I was at the swimming pool again, he came over and said hi again. We talked for a little bit. I found out that he was 22. I thought “Wow, that’s kind of old.” I was 17. I also found out that his name was Sergio. I had him spell that for me because I didn’t know that name yet. I was new to the country. I had only been there for a few weeks.

He called me sometime and we decided to hang out on a Saturday. He was supposed to pick me up at 1. The week leading up to that Saturday, I was very excited. I kept thinking “Sergio, Sergio, Sergio” and imagining all the things we might do together. Thinking about him made me tingle.

One o’clock on Saturday came and went but he didn’t show up. Around 1:30 I called him. When he answered, I hung up. Around 1:45 I called him again. This time he answered with “Hello? Vera?” I reluctantly said “Yes.” He said “What’s up?” I said “You were supposed to pick me up today.” He said that he knew that but that his back was hurting or something. I said “So what’s your problem?” He said “I don’t have a problem, Vera.” We didn’t hang out that day. But a couple of months later, I ran into him at the pool again. He had turned 23 by now. He was even older. I was still 17. He confessed that the reason he had flaked on our date that day was that he was worried about our age difference. I said that I wasn’t worried. We decided to hang out that Saturday. This time he actually showed up. The younger one of my host mothers–she was 30–had been singing the Sergio song all day. She had seen him at the pool as well, and she agreed that he was hot. She was excited for me.

His car, I think, was something like a Honda CRX or something. It was white. We went to IHOP, I think. But I didn’t eat anything because I was too nervous. After it went dark, we drove up on some hill where you could see the entire city. We sat in his car and talked. And then we kissed. After a couple of minutes, I stopped and said “You are so cute.” He said “Are you infatuated?” I said “What’s infatuated?” I didn’t know that word. He explained it to me. I said “I don’t know, I just think you’re really cute.” I’m pretty sure I told him that day that I was still a virgin so that he wouldn’t have any expectations.

We hung out a few more times. One time we were going to watch Benny and June, per my request, at his place, but when we opened the Blockbuster box, it had the wrong movie in it, one I wasn’t interested in at all, so we just made out instead. I called my sister from his house that day and told her in German that I had tried LSD recently, with some kids from school. After I hung up, Sergio said “LSD?” That was the only part he had understood. I said “Yep, LSD.” He looked worried.

After about two months of my affair with Sergio, I moved away to live with another host family in Victorville, and I never saw Sergio again. As a going away present he gave me a black and white print of a photograph of some LA buildings and hills he had taken. On the back he had written “To Vera. From your friend, Sergio.” I thought it was odd that he called himself my “friend.” I thought we were lovers. He wrote the date on the back of the photo as I watched. It was 03/05/94. I told him that the way he drew 5′s looked weird to me. I showed him how I draw my 5′s. He said “Let me see you do 5′s again?” He thought mine were weird too.

A month or so later, when I was living in Victorville, Sergio called me at my new host family’s house. He asked me if I missed Pasadena. I said that no, I didn’t miss it at all. I was loving it in Victorville. I had made lots of friends and even a new boyfriend about whom I was even more excited than I had been about Sergio. But I didn’t tell Sergio about the boyfriend. I was kind of short with Sergio on the phone that day. I never heard from him again.

Rejection sells

I intend to write a book titled Rejection. Each chapter will be named after a different boy. So far I have already written chapters titled Matt, Ethan, and Mill. Aren’t you just dying to read them?

Excitements

It’s the Ides of August, and I’m excited. But why? I’ll tell you.

• The new and improved Hooping.org Magazine launched today! Ariel, you will be missed.
• Remember when I wrote the story about the quirky mental disorder I had when I was 10? That story? It’s going to be in a book! Printed, bound and everything! A book that people will be able to buy at the bookstore. Woohoo! The book will be called You Are Not Alone and it’s a collection of stories about eating disorders. All earnings will go to eating disorders organizations. Did I say woohoo?
• My favorite aunt Inge, who is psychic and a homeopathic, is coming to visit me at the end of September. While she is here, we are going to go on a spiritual journey to Hawaii together for a week. Our flights to Oahu are booked!

So yeah. I’m excited about things.

Burning Man plans

It’s looking like it’s going to happen. My friend Antonio has hooked me up with Pinhole Camp. A photography-inspired camp! Camping with Antonio, one of my favorite people! We’ll be at 7:15 and Center Camp.

Then, and this is even better news, another one of my favorite friends, Daniel, is creating an art project on the playa, and he is renting a van to transport all the project stuff. In exchange for some help from me with his project, I can use the van as my sleeping quarters! Woohoo! I hate tents. Sorry, tents, I don’t mean to offend you but I really hate you. You do wonderful things for other people but you’re just not doing it for me.

So, to recap: I have a ticket, I have a camp, I have a place to sleep, and an art project to work on! I think that’s about all I need.

A gift I didn’t immediately recognize

Recently, while shopping at Borders for an Elizabeth Wurtzel book, a shiny pink book on one of the display tables caught my eye. It was Psychic Junkie, written by Sarah Lassez, an actress who has chronicled her addiction to calling psychic hotlines about her love life and her acting career. I decided to read that book next and put it on my Amazon Wishlist. I figured I would learn something from it and looked forward to reading descriptions of what it’s like to listen to psychics over the phone. Since I’m into both reading about addiction and about, well, psychic stuff, I figured this book would be a real page turner for me.

A few days later I decided to order the book from Amazon. Another few days later it arrived in the mail, and another few days later, another copy arrived in the mail. I thought “Huh. I guess Amazon made a mistake.”

I read the book probably within less than week. It gave me a nice new perspective on the subject of psychic counseling–fresh from the psyche of an addict. My favorite part was when Sarah decides to work for a psychic hotline herself and gives people GREAT advice, until she realizes that the work is really draining and quits.

After finishing the book, I sent Sarah an email thanking her for writing her story for me to read. I didn’t really expect a response because I figured that she gets lots of mail, what with being an actress AND an author. But she wrote back within 24 hours. And it turns out that that second copy of the book from Amazon had been from HER! She had seen it on my wishlist and sent it to me! How cool is that? And it’s very inspiring too because I know that when MY books are out, I’m going to buy them for people who want them. It makes perfect sense.

A two-fold thanks again, Sarah, for the book!

Taxi blog!

I started a new blog for my taxi stories. Ultimately I want to write these for a column in the Chronicle, or the Guardian, or Glamour magazine, for all I care. But for now, there they are. I have to start somewhere.

My first unrequited crush

I developed an interest in boys early. I had my first crush at the age of 5. His name was Marc. We were in Kindergarten together. His presence made me feel different, a different that can only be described as pleasant and exciting. I was in love with him. It was all good feelings, and none of the bad stuff. I never tried to act on my crush; I just enjoyed the feelings his presence elicited. There were no expectations, no consummation, and no rejection.

A year later, in first grade, I was introduced to some new people. One of them made me feel different in that good, tingly way too. His name was Andre and he had a pretty face and he cried a lot. I think I liked that about him. I was in love with him. But this time I wanted to take my love a bit further. I wanted to express it. So one time, when Andre was over at my neighbor Tobi’s, I announced to Andre that I was in love with him and that I was going to kiss him. He said that he didn’t want me to kiss him. I chased him all over Tobi’s backyard until I finally caught him, pinned him down, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He was struggling visibly, his face distorted and his eye brows in a frown. I was happy that I had succeeded at kissing him, but I was startled that he had not wanted it. That part didn’t feel so good.

That evening I told my mom that I had kissed Andre and that he had tried to run away from me. I said to her that I was in love with Andre, so why didn’t he want me to kiss him? It was obvious that there was something between us, some special energy, I was feeling it, how could he not be feeling it? And then my mom said something that I still remember word for word. She explained “Just because you are in love with someone doesn’t mean that they are in love with you too.”

And just like that, my world changed. From then on, every time I had a crush on somebody, in the back of my head there was my mom’s warning, that just because I have a crush on him doesn’t mean he has one on me too. And I would see, over and over again, that she was right. And over and over again, I felt the impulse to express my love but I knew that it wasn’t welcome if the love was unrequited. And yes, I also had expectations of my love being reciprocated, and when it wasn’t, I felt bad. Expectations killed the joy of any crush I ever had, especially when they weren’t met. But what was even more soul-crushing was having to roll in my tongue when all I wanted to do was express my love.