tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-56473902012-01-19T21:43:30.463-08:00Here There Be Tygers[Or, The Foreign Nature Of Full Disclosure]annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.comBlogger3141100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-35589740927937864852012-01-19T21:38:00.000-08:002012-01-19T21:43:30.473-08:00drift
My leaden skis carve laboriously through the mess of wet powder lashing the slope before me. Each new track wrestles me down into the orbit of a conflicting trajectory, and my muscles shiver with the effort of staying upright.
The heavens are murky with a roiling morass, dragging a grey crayon sideways across the valley landscape, shading the gaps a dull flannel, daubing out the sun. annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-66771917342878175652011-09-04T20:54:00.000-07:002011-09-04T20:58:49.640-07:00ancient art
We've spent the past couple of hours making our way up the channels etched in these ancient cliff faces, wedging arms and legs and backs in the long striations chiseled by centuries of desert rainfall. The reward of the challenging climb is a perch that's eye-to-eye with the thousand stone spirits of the Moab mesas, all standing silent and tall against the blanched blue sky, all annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-43800874034136229462011-08-16T17:43:00.000-07:002011-08-16T18:44:09.329-07:00the valley of fire
We've driven hours to arrive here -- a barren nocturnal wilderness formed from time-worn heaps of jagged rock and the occasional struggling shrub. As we emerge from the car, the night air is startlingly warm. The moon is ripe and full, sketching unnerving shadows between the boulders and clefts.
From the approaching road, the tower appeared as a pinprick-thick line drawn from annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-82501637965102966982011-05-05T17:39:00.000-07:002011-05-05T18:06:58.382-07:00nine monthsLast week, I had every reason to be stoked: the skies were promising to be warm and blue, I'd just had a slider pocket installed to soften my rig's crackin' openings and I knew I had several jumps left on my account at Elsi.These things, of course, meant that I spent much of the past seven days in a state of white-faced, sweaty-palmed terror.Why?Two words: recurrency jump.We've been annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-21655098401328473352011-04-26T20:13:00.000-07:002011-04-26T20:30:07.724-07:00quietudeToday, as we ambled along the trail that rims the high ridges at the extreme south of the Salt Lake valley, I felt a profound sense of peace settle over me.Don't get me wrong; I'm overstimulated and bone-tired from the past several months. We've handled near-constant movement, production overdrive, the training of a stable of new vendors and, now, the prospect of closing the sale on our annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-43694931610541974712011-02-18T23:58:00.000-08:002011-02-19T00:27:28.717-08:00sailingI.Like a politician and his decoy, no one has ever seen my two halves standing in the same room. You'll either meet the expressor or the muse - the dreamer or the actuator - the poet or the sharpener of pencils. I've been in a firmly pragmatic mode for a handful of months, manhandling my way through a morass of short-term goals. Suddenly, I have the sense that I can relax that iron grip annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-8789421950094841442010-12-28T01:52:00.000-08:002010-12-28T02:05:37.867-08:00KPHI've noticed an unsettling thing about the world. No matter where you go, everyone ignores the speed limits.I guess they aren't ignored, strictly speaking. After all, one must know how fast they're allowed to go in order to go faster than that particular figure. Buzzing around on the back roads through the rolling, curving hinterlands of rural New Zealand, it occurred to me to wonder why the annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-5835718915681504212010-12-09T01:39:00.000-08:002010-12-13T00:00:49.922-08:00kitchen witch While the powdery New Zealand rain dusts the lawn outside, I'm learning to cream butter and sugar with my hands. You laugh when I call it "percussive dairy massage," pulling and twisting and feeling the cat's-tongue roughness of the mixture as it enters and leaves my fists. I've always loved to bake, but I'd always been sensually subtracted from this part of the process, letting my annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-64579504478981650682010-12-07T02:04:00.000-08:002010-12-08T01:53:21.546-08:00manaIn the Maori language, "Mana" means power.There's something in the earth at the Mana Retreat Centre in Coromandel -- something that makes you not want to wear shoes; to feel every root as it passes underfoot.The young chef, brought in to pinch-hit for the Druid goddess that usually mans Mana's beautiful old kitchen, hitchhiked from town to get here for her first shift. As we chopped a annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-41762357267689601962010-11-19T20:11:00.001-08:002010-11-19T20:13:31.656-08:00wavesThe bay spreads wide in front of us, its surface reflecting the mercurial silver of the clouds. A row of toothy cliffs hem the bay, each stretching volcanic claws out into the open water. Our safety-orange kayaks skirt the frothy border of their domain. The seabirds watch us dolefully as they circle overhead, occasionally punctuating the surface with a perfect spearhead dive.As soft as I'm annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-71530168010169992622010-11-19T02:20:00.000-08:002010-12-12T01:07:27.935-08:00we will be victoriousI'm wedged between a bulkhead and a pile of backpacks. Under us, the makeshift bed in the back of this sketchy van conversion rattles between plastic panels. We're careening through the mountains around the turns of a forest road. I'm alternately holding myself up with a seatbelt mooring and balancing my weight against your knee, depending on which side of the van we're beingannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-62778641119545284892010-09-06T13:13:00.000-07:002010-09-13T12:12:49.420-07:00up the coastI.Lima.It's San-Francisco cold here, and an impenetrable shroud of cloudcover dampens the city's voice. The brilliant paint jobs on the surrounding skyscrapers have to fight through the silky, diffuse sunlight.This is a classy, classy city. It's as fashionable as New York, with the insouciant sex appeal of Barcelona. It's crowded with beauty salons and art galleries and cafes, and theannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-15498385599950609222010-06-06T21:25:00.000-07:002010-06-06T22:04:20.497-07:00stormI.The jagged mountains gnaw the bottoms of the galloping clouds, ripping them into tufts as they pour, panting and spent, into the valley. The wind comes in most nights like a howling drunk, throwing things down the street and beating the windsocks senseless. The sky burns and weeps and stews, and the pilots below send fervent prayers that she will never be too peaceful.II.This place is as annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-66418815551998670242010-04-11T09:56:00.000-07:002010-04-11T11:26:01.154-07:00holds and exitsI.I just set down Steph Davis's book - 'High Infatuation' - after devouring it in just two sessions. Steph is a full-time, sponsored, professional rock climber. A friend lent me the book on spec, so I read it without knowing much about Steph; as I read, I was struck by the covalences between her experience and mine. She was raised in an academic setting, coming to her sport later annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-34512335387769073552010-03-26T21:50:00.000-07:002010-03-26T22:05:42.480-07:00verticalI.Y'know what?This is WORKING.I've been reading voraciously, preparing, hashing and rehashing spreadsheets and checklists and blogrolls. I've been ideating circles around this for years - so much so that I didn't really believe it when I drove the bike up the ramp into the moving truck and polished off the last of the detritus into a final Goodwill run.That was a month ago - right on annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-36774967247459924782010-02-14T23:41:00.000-08:002010-02-15T00:04:30.564-08:00tracksI'm at the top, subtly tamping my skis into the snow at the cornice to bleed off my nerves.I peer over again, for the third time. It hasn't gotten any less steep since I looked last - about thirty seconds ago. There's a foreboding line of rocks cupping the outside of the run, like a tongue lying over sharp teeth, and I can't see anything beyond that.The tips of my skis hang over the maw, annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-88830456562265436562009-12-02T18:07:00.000-08:002009-12-02T22:51:40.013-08:00moabI.I'm lying next to you in the back of Nate and Sarah's car, watching through the sunroof as the power lines cut slashes through the twilight sky above us. I roll my head to the side, pillowed by my arm, to look at you. You're already looking straight at me, bright green eyes steadily meeting my gaze.Your jump was perfect. Your jumps are always perfect. I can hear the rustle of nylon in the annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-32349762069605826702009-11-30T22:42:00.000-08:002009-11-30T22:59:04.415-08:00on love, and other superpowers"I think I need a montage," I said, taking greedy pulls from the weak Utah beer in my hand. It's been a good long time since I was surrounded by people I don't know, doing things I have no idea how to do - and covered in cover-your-mouth-awful poison oak, at that.The girl who had never done more than amble up to a higher rock with a beer was suddenly pressed to annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-64354859781088024862009-11-09T16:09:00.000-08:002009-11-09T16:41:02.136-08:00i promise to be perfectI'm fascinated by our recontextualization. Over there, despite the off-putting plate tectonics of my vestigial life, we were simplified by the dynamics of the places we moved through. There was a simple poetry in the single backpack shoved in the back of that little blue Citigolf, white dashes flashing by on the pavement below, a hand resting on my knee. Back in the annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-84202753525475919332009-10-14T01:31:00.000-07:002009-10-14T01:43:43.892-07:00the envelope, pleaseI'm finally allowed to talk about it.I've been invited to join an expedition in the spring of next year. It's not a trip. It's absolutely, positively nothing like a vacation. It's a BASE expedition to the arctic. It comes complete with a world-class, awe-inspiring group of co-travelers and some delightfully resonant environmental aspects. And there's me, bio number nine annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-60938528850640149292009-10-11T16:04:00.000-07:002009-10-11T16:07:55.005-07:00no return"Skydiving is addictive," he said.I believed him, but he hadn't told the whole truth."Better start a timer when you leave the drop zone," he should have said, "'cause you'll start to go slowly crazy over the course of days you're not wearing a parachute."I'm chasing myself in circles around the room today, clearly in need of a fix.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-22199117081997894362009-09-30T23:33:00.000-07:002009-09-30T23:44:43.163-07:00inertia, joy, and boundlessnessI feel so light.I'm moving so quickly under my own power. I'm busier than I've been in years, which is funny because my capacity for productive work has always been high. These days, when my energy peaks it's like sticking a finger into a light socket and, when I recharge, I recharge quickly.This goal-laden calendar in front of me is playing testament to how annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-51016416717667933022009-09-28T23:10:00.000-07:002009-09-28T23:55:01.928-07:00learning curveI.It sounds counterintuitive, but it felt great to spend a long day at the DZ with absolutely no intention of jumping out of anything. Instead, I spent the day crawling around with the lead packer, learning how to convince my slippery behemoth of a canopy that it really, really wanted to squoosh down into the little d-bag. I packed it three times after I nailed it, just to be annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-25596228206818345862009-09-27T23:29:00.000-07:002009-09-27T23:48:43.880-07:00the nights are to get throughI.I'm holed up at the DZ again. I think I might be hiding. It's as good a place as any to hide.Uncertainty is exciting. It's *the* exciting thing, as a matter of fact. Certainty is the death of interest.Even so, a bit of encouragement would be nice. I'm ready to gnaw off my own arm.II.Someone compared me favourably to "the redheadeded girl" on the TV show 'Mad annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-81307276982487226762009-09-24T12:32:00.000-07:002009-09-24T13:47:06.725-07:00aim highYesterday's jumping was a delight. Being packed into a plane with a grip of Air Force flyboys was like suddenly being surrounded by tussling, hilarious brothers. I felt so at home in there, sardined in with a bunch of khaki camo, showered in affectionate razzing and gear checks.I'm so glad for my Air Force roots, as ephemeral as they are. It's good blood to have in my veins. I'll annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-36408862917413651812009-09-23T00:02:00.000-07:002009-09-23T00:15:55.957-07:00snapshotThings I know to be true:1. The heart of darkness is where all the light is.2. I'm hurtling forward at top speed around totally blind corners, and I've never had so much fun.3. My heart and my head are finally in agreement. It's flabbergasting what magic happens when they're working on the same projects.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-30388939581516179102009-09-17T14:24:00.000-07:002009-09-17T17:15:20.300-07:00the princess and the skygodI.My dreams have been incredibly lucid, of late.There’s a level of realism there that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced. For the past three days, I’ve woken up a bit tired; I’m living a second life.I think it’s about anticipation. Impatience. A wanderlust so strong (and so, well, lusty) that I don’t have enough time in the day to see to it.We’re driving in a annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-29644275038856900942009-09-14T13:57:00.000-07:002009-09-14T17:42:38.523-07:00glideI'm still thinking about it.It was this past Sunday, on my second jump. I'd just done six perfect flips, popped a perfect canopy, and had settled in for a sweet swoop down. Suddenly, I noticed I wasn't alone.A red-tailed hawk was slipping through the wind perhaps ten feet off to my right. From where I was, hanging in the sky directly next to him, I was able to watch the air moving throughannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-57285178905845062172009-09-11T11:44:00.000-07:002009-09-11T13:13:56.985-07:00try this trick and spin itI.I was Tyler Durden last night.Somewhere in a black-sangria dreamland, I found myself standing at the window next to Marla. She and I were calmly watching everything explode.It was a symphony of twisting, shivering steel. It was orange against black. It was beautiful.II.I got into the tunnel yesterday afternoon for my weekly training and, due to a titch of a annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-56310111820011083802009-09-06T20:01:00.000-07:002009-09-06T21:02:29.736-07:00relative windWhen I was a baby in the Philippines, my dad would pass my room as he went off to work in the mornings and hear me singing to myself in my crib. Even now, when I have a little too much inside to safely hold there, I'll sing to let the valve open a bit.Today, I sang myself from canopy check all the way to the ground. Twice.So much has changed, so quickly.It's amazing to me how annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-65644673337475114492009-08-28T16:23:00.000-07:002009-08-28T17:28:31.036-07:00stiflingIt's too damned hot here.I'm sitting alone in an empty drop zone waiting area, watching the scorched air wash through the sparse forest of windsocks. John Lennon is singing to me over the speakers, softly begging me to shoot him. A tiny plane hustles quietly, almost furtively, down the dirt runway. Its dust forms long fingers to comb the landing grass. My skin prickles with the annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-66862366983834940912009-08-06T01:15:00.000-07:002009-08-06T01:20:32.139-07:00walkaboutMy little orange book is full, now, as is my heart. Logic is huffing and puffing to catch up.It's sad. It's complicated. It's joyful. It's RIGHT. It's fair and it's unfair and it would be much better for the narrative structure of this thing if the plane didn't make it back to LAX. Cleaner. Nicer denouement.I don't know how I failed to notice that the room was on fire, but now theannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-17860795358225477522009-04-01T23:34:00.000-07:002009-04-01T23:47:38.661-07:00gravityI wonder how an astronaut feels, down here. Walking through city streets, heels hitting sidewalk, the occasional jostle of crossed paths, a mumbled apology. Fork scraping plate. Flopping into the driver's seat, a moment listening to the key's-in-door's-open dinging sound, the rumble as the key turns. Television voices, radio voices, a thousand overheard conversations from lovemaking toannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-49975108126530650952009-03-22T20:32:00.000-07:002009-03-22T20:50:46.754-07:00queen of culver studiosThere were so many of us there, listening for each other in a forest of swinging china balls, the orbs bouncing off our arms and shoulders as we muscled the frame through the narrow studio alley. Wending and weaving through an obstable course of parked cars, trucks, and forklifts, we began in anger and ended in howling laughter, our shouts echoing from the high stage walls.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-82319285691907724692008-12-23T22:48:00.000-08:002008-12-23T23:30:50.311-08:00stretchYou never learn from the easy stuff. And I like to learn. And I love to say 'yes' - yeah, sure, I'll try that...I can do that...I can totally figure that out...I'd love to...absolutely...you got it.So I started saying 'yes', and it's working. I've been working so hard that I've hardly come up for air, but I feel profoundly energized on this side of it.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-59152059037225507532008-12-01T19:23:00.000-08:002008-12-01T19:34:16.363-08:00snow, bones, trinketsI'd never driven in the snow before. It was disconcerting because my eyes didn't know where to go; all these thousands of flecks of glinting whiteness made my eyes cross to look through them. It's cold here, and full of corporate shopping experiences, and nobody has soy milk. Perhaps they don't yet know that the technology exists to make milk out of beans and not grieving annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-54686152794223421842008-11-04T21:34:00.000-08:002008-11-04T21:55:58.723-08:00the world has changed, and so must iI, like so many people of our nation, feel a strength in my Americanness that I haven't felt in a long, long time.This is about 'change' as an imperative, not a slogan.Change course.Change lives.Change your mind.Change the set of assumptions that's gotten you through this far.Change is here - and it's big - and we can all find a spot on the rope to pull it annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-84242319892140760092008-10-26T18:58:00.000-07:002008-10-26T19:09:31.870-07:00happiness isTwo glasses of great cabernet and dancing around the living room to Buena Vista Social Club.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-53068359060767104222008-10-07T14:44:00.000-07:002008-10-07T14:47:00.418-07:00*but*...Netflix is OK.Netflix is *just* fine.I've been delighting in the sordid, saucy, obscene, and yet delightfully heartfelt world of Californication, and it makes me happy that some creatives out there are picking up this stuff.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-89155351771790876252008-10-02T16:44:00.000-07:002008-10-02T17:14:02.181-07:00televisoreThat's it.I'm done.Me and TV - we're over.I've been blessedly televisionless for most of my life. And for many, many months in this flat, the set lived peacefully on the other side of the room from the cable plug. But then, one day - I arrive home to find that the TV has made its way to the plug-wall.I made ":/"-face and went about my biznatch.Since the cable plug snuck into the wall,annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-1318507474890375862008-09-11T11:26:00.000-07:002008-09-11T14:19:25.142-07:00rhetoricUnbreakfasted, I had a jones for food porn this morning...so, of course, I headed over to The PPK. Mmmm, PPK. Mmmm. I wanted pictures of saucy barbeque tempeh and roasted everything and great heaps of quinoa. I didn't want conflict. Of course, I found it. Urgh. Unappetizing.Toodling through, I ran across a link to someone else's blog. He's a dad, and he writes a lengthy treatise annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-48458792315024120592008-09-09T11:58:00.000-07:002008-09-09T12:12:16.151-07:00wildlifeBefore I got home last night, Eric took a walk - and smelled goats in the Grand water court.He investigated further, and discovered that the hill by Angels' Flight is currently populated by a herd of brush-clearing goats. They're keeping them there 'round the clock, behind chain-link fences warning (skull-and-crossbones-style) of the goats' poisonous coats. Last I checked, this was not aannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-48762667834864512712008-09-02T23:06:00.000-07:002008-09-02T23:34:13.459-07:00summer's endI.You're walking slightly ahead of me, as you've been for twelve miles. It'll be another eight (and change) until we collapse, salt-streaked and pack-bent, back into the car. I've been watching you swat this onslaught of gnats for hours as we climb; watching the black soil dust your ankles and calves like cocoa. I worry for your exposed skin. The poison oak is always thick in thisannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-70995676844819664462008-08-20T23:04:00.000-07:002008-08-20T23:08:19.568-07:00on my mind1. Brazil. Brazilian people. Portugese. Being sexy without being perfect.2. The sound of bent handlebars being rocked on a counter.3. Summer bean cassoulet, by surprise.4. A movie star's conversation at the next table over.5. Famine.6. The dreamtime of the Irish. Vegan food in Ireland. Gaelic.7. Thighs.8. Drinking water.9. Location independence.10. Books. The summer reading club annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-55511540422575808652008-08-18T16:12:00.000-07:002009-09-06T21:30:58.674-07:00a first time for everythingIf I sorta knew it was going to happen from the first moment I threw a leg over the bike in the morning, I didn't let it stop me. And honestly, I was too tired to be altogether surprised to find myself splayed out on the 10, watching my riderless bike lamely try to chase down the van that hit me.I came away with a scuffed knee and a few bruises. And the injured annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-42555514604661587192008-08-09T15:07:00.000-07:002008-08-09T15:26:28.769-07:00fever dreamsI've felt this before, but never so strongly.I think I picked something else up in Thailand - something more than the mysterious Dengue. Something even more resounding than the ebullient "Sawadekaaaaaa!" and "Kap khun kaaaa!" that I can use almost exclusively in nail salons here in this city.I picked up a cowbell-resistant fever. For roamin'.I read ravenously, snacking on other annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-18804263508824910992008-08-07T15:06:00.000-07:002008-08-07T16:35:54.292-07:00after these messages, we'll be right backI'm experiencing an exhilarating flip in perspective.Perhaps it's because of the books I've been reading, or perhaps it's something else: that subtle something that snapped back into place when I went to Thailand...like setting a bone after a break.Los Angeles feels like a quiet bower - a grey, neutral space in which to rest and refuel between annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-64008500187276395922008-07-19T11:37:00.001-07:002008-07-19T11:57:53.374-07:00syllable after syllableWords are betrayers, gathering in great number all around you as the attack is planned, then fleeing entirely and leaving you alone with nothing but a searing-hot sternum and a lame, listless tongue.All my life, I've been a stranger to the languages around me. The stacatto syncopation of military acronyms; long strings of letters like popcorn garlands. The shivering, annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-64667134497230938762008-06-26T17:28:00.000-07:002008-06-26T17:37:34.137-07:00not the way i picturedI had no way of knowing what lay ahead when I wrote my last post - a week alone in a Thai hospital, dragging an IV around when I had the strength to walk, thinking my way down a long, long, long list of subjects while I waited for the other side of the world to light up enough to place a phone call.It was infuriating - and bitingly ironic - and just terrifying. There were annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-74243185820184009402008-06-11T08:31:00.000-07:002008-06-11T09:02:17.538-07:00endangeredI.I ran across this image today on Threadless (of all places.) It made my breath catch in my throat - so simple, but so affecting. I'd buy it in a second if it didn't hurt to look at.Maybe I will anyway.II.I've withdrawn from the city and am tucked into a sleepy little river-valley town in the north.Predictably, it's beautiful - borne here over the sinuous curves of a four-hour trip annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-41603123320798364892008-06-09T18:54:00.001-07:002008-06-09T19:06:23.077-07:00chiang maiI'd almost forgotten this magical thing about the tropics - the schedule-massaging power of a clockwork daily rain in the late afternoon. It politely follows the same predicatable patter, so as not to catch you out: first, a battalion of dove-grey clouds appear on the horizon and advance to throw a shroud around the city. Then the air cools, thickens, stills. Then, the smell. These annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-26901608854895490352008-06-07T14:20:00.000-07:002008-06-09T19:06:59.058-07:00emancipate yourself from mental slaveryEven though my little homeopathic jet lag chewies worked five hundred times better than I expected, due to the searing wet midday heat I'm still up for lateness. And guess what? Pretty much everybody here is up for lateness, too!I spent the day learning how to cook Thai food (SO easy and lazy and non-chop-intensive!) on a beautiful farm, and now I'm just annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-44939737567255341242008-06-07T02:01:00.000-07:002008-06-07T02:19:07.277-07:00(From the plane, yesterday)Bibimbap.Just say it - feels good. Bibimbap.I'm deep into this flight. We're just a couple of hours out of Narita.I've finished my vegan zucchini-something-or-other while the rest of the plane chowed down on reconstituted - say it with me now - bibimbap. I've narrowly escaped being broadsided by a secretly meaty dinner roll. My seatmate even shared a couple of her annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-16314427085683044332008-05-19T10:32:00.001-07:002008-05-19T12:55:18.897-07:00to a crawlI want everything slower.I want slow food. Slow days. Slow transportation - walking; long conversations on trains. Slow builds and long collapses. Time to move like breath in savasana; like batter poured carefully into a muffin tin.I've begun to experience the sensation, lately, of riding time - feeling it under me, moving steady and uncheatable and solid. Yesterday, Bear and I annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-3681092384915275832008-05-16T15:05:00.001-07:002008-05-16T15:16:03.236-07:00the romance of nerdishnessI want a magical Google maps mod.I want a shortcut on my desktop. It'll link to a realtime, auto-refreshing Google satellite map. And it'll have pindots where someone is thinking of me. And I can zoom far, far in and see what they look like when they do. Perhaps I could switch over to a hybrid map and find out exactly how to get to where they are, if they look like annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-4681960155606964542008-05-15T13:06:00.000-07:002008-05-15T13:54:02.715-07:00all heartI can't help it. I'm all heart.Last night didn't feel much like work. It felt (as discussed with our awesome set medic) like we had all convened at an outdoor music festival venue and were waiting for the bands to show up. (OK, it felt like that to me, at least, 'cause I didn't have to pick up any c-stands or mombo-combos or futz with the light balloons or worry about the guy getting annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-45122540902330851452008-04-09T00:00:00.000-07:002008-04-09T00:22:56.083-07:00summer in abaddonI think that I'm overinvolved with the past.I want to edit. I want my past to be as flexible as my present; that these unresolved plotlines should find a natural close. I've marked the pages where the narrative drifted off, and I come back to those pages when I should continue to write forward. A found-then-lost phone number; a series of calls unreturned; a cryptic message forannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-760899446390821012008-04-05T19:35:00.000-07:002008-04-05T20:23:20.945-07:00what better place than here, what better time than nowSomething struck me this week, as I was baking up a stack of chocolate-chip cookies - how stupid I've been to buy in to animal-product culture. I keep having these forehead-slapping moments when I sub out veg products for animal and realize they're not only just as good, but often *better*.You don't need butter or eggs to make a succulent, annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-5817880777861666012008-03-30T23:27:00.000-07:002008-03-30T23:30:50.520-07:00as if my neighborhood weren't cool enough......there's yet another reason to blow off my westsider friends' yammering about how "the beach is SOOO close!"Have fun over there. I like it over thisaway.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-60958517921891643142008-03-30T08:42:00.000-07:002008-03-30T09:15:01.495-07:00evaluating my impactI'm not quite sure what to do with the realizations about my personal impact that have been trickling down into my consciousness over the past few weeks. They're ruffling me.First of all, I love my job! It's always interesting (often downright exciting), pays really well, matches my unique rhythms and proclivities, and introduces me to fascinating new people all the time. annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-88249268585517501892008-03-25T23:53:00.000-07:002008-03-26T00:05:58.484-07:00vegan dayWe celebrated Vegan Day on Sunday night, after a brilliant day of rubbing pig bellies at the animal sanctuary and strolling down along a sunset beach. We tucked in to a table at the Inn among the swirling conversations and the constant chirrup of crickets and night frogs, smiling quietly with each other in the sweet canyon air. It's still amazing to me that we've extrapolated such annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-2487654229871487212008-03-07T21:40:00.000-08:002008-03-07T21:55:13.912-08:00here's the questionI.I have been going to Bikram Yoga every day, religiously, for almost a month.I have cleansed my diet of all flour, refined sugar, bovine dairy, and chemical preservatives.I follow a program of dry brushing, breathwork, and meditation.Am I ready....to try Vegemite?If I jump the gun, I'm a dead woman.II.I missed SXSW...AGAIN this year. Fuck! (Sorry, mom.)III.I have an amazing annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-60644958595383697852008-02-22T12:49:00.000-08:002008-02-22T16:47:16.621-08:00country radioI.There's a certain je ne sais quoi about a radio station that sings to you about tequila at 8 in the morning. "Don't ask her on a straight tequila night," he beseeched me as the third merge-monstering luxury sedan of the morning careened into my lane, "She'll start thinkin' about him, and she's ready to fight." Funny thing is, it's a beautiful song.Many of them are. Hokey, yeah -annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-3873009865340103452008-02-14T22:21:00.000-08:002008-02-14T22:54:03.688-08:00the feast of saint valentine, esq.The only thing that's truly known about St. Valentine is that he was a martyr, and that he died horribly. He might've been a priest, or a bishop, a hermit, or an African (gasp!) The feast of St. Valentine may actually celebrate more than one saint. Nobody knows for sure. He/they may have died up to three times. The original iteration of the holiday was annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-68669475037626181452008-02-13T10:24:00.000-08:002008-02-13T10:25:09.079-08:00annies aftermathI have Spongebob Squarepants' personal Superman address book, and now I have to make arrangements to return it.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-77655833029910539922008-02-11T21:26:00.000-08:002008-02-11T21:55:34.463-08:00life, but not with toxinsI.The old mattress? Gone. The old couch? Gone. Nothing old remains. New things have taken the place of the old in almost every sense. All is full of love - and colour, and texture, and light.There's an awesome new table, where there was no table at all before; in its Platonic form, the table is a locus of nutrition, conversation, togetherness. We have this, now, inannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-52137344203740232382008-01-28T14:50:00.001-08:002008-01-28T17:36:10.860-08:00oh, darn.What a sock in the gut - to finally try to help after the longest time of deliberately not helping, only to have it blow up on me. I used to be impossible to breathe through my anxiety over this state of affairs; now, it's much easier, but I can't help wanting to make it all better. And I can't help wanting to get this part overwith so we can get the hell on to the next part of the annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-8510652060364415202008-01-16T19:42:00.000-08:002008-01-16T19:59:42.307-08:00the perils of barnes, the pitfalls of nobleMaybe this is just The Way It Is. This is my house, this is my body. This is my antisocial life. This is my role - to be the one who doesn't dream. To be the one who supports pies in the sky.I saw a book today in the store. It was about learning to not be a perfectionist. It was about teaching female overachievers to let themselves be.I looked at annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-9529204057672076522007-12-28T22:35:00.000-08:002007-12-28T22:59:12.335-08:00tizzyI.Couldn't sleep last night. If I had, the zombies woulda got me. Slept fever-sleep with the covers pulled over my head.Our collective unconscious is losing hope, feels like. Our dreams are of apocalypse, and there be tygers where we least expect them.My mind has been full of weird questions today - about whether the world will end with a bang or a whimper, about the rising scream of annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-60886564537066034882007-12-27T17:02:00.001-08:002007-12-27T17:03:18.826-08:00every little thing is gonna be alright'I Am Legend' just kicked my ASS. I am slain. Friggin' A.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-32560230729300091242007-12-24T12:54:00.001-08:002007-12-24T13:22:44.491-08:00giddyapWhen I get to feeling like that, there's only one place I want to go. So I went.I was so worked up, sweating through an enochlophobic fever, pinched in on all sides by the battle around me - self-respect versus pie-in-the-sky romanticism versus incredulity versus despair - I could hardly make it to the gates. But once I did, it was okay - the too-many-speed-bumps and the gentle hummocks annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-10255406815823564442007-12-07T19:18:00.000-08:002007-12-08T11:30:44.892-08:00things i did today1. Printed 200 pictures of snow2. Bought the world's biggest gummi bear and shipped it priority overnight to myself3. Ate drunken goat cheese to the booming soundtrack of Chicago's I'm Sorry 4. Called my grandma5. Watched Andrew Bird spin harmonic gold within the ornate womb of the downtown Orpheumannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-57500605915214433042007-11-26T11:06:00.000-08:002007-11-29T10:07:40.040-08:00painted ladyI.A year and a half, and we're finally nesting. It feels good! From the first swath of smoky bluish-greenish-grey that spilled out behind Eric's meticulously-applied roller, we knew that important changes were stirring.II.We watched The Pillow Book last night. I hadn't seen it for ten years - and it was amazing how different the film was from this perspective.Most of all, it was annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-84999506340375744292007-11-14T11:33:00.000-08:002007-11-14T12:38:58.106-08:00alas, poor dell - i knew him wellI.Some have wondered why it's taken me so long to realize that my relationship is fundamentally flawed. They're becoming more and more vocal about it; it's as though they were too polite to talk about it at first, but have been emboldened by my obvious frustration.There are problems I just can't resolve, no matter now hard I try - and they're getting impossible annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-52605485022455813862007-11-12T13:00:00.000-08:002007-11-12T13:38:05.784-08:00happy talkI."You got to have a dream/If you don't have a dream,/how you gonna make your dream come true?"If you weren't raised on these things, the above is my favourite snippet from a song in the musical South Pacific. It's performed in pecking, brittle pidgin English, and delivered in a silly caracaturish fashion that belies its razor-sharp meaning to anyone who's ever wanted to do some annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-18674698703081090702007-11-06T19:54:00.000-08:002007-11-06T19:58:35.311-08:00office spaceI remember the first time I walked into one of these offices - so stark, so modern-for-the-sake-of-modernity. So empty - long, bare tables with simple lights and lonely wall plugs. There is no "officey" warmth here. There are no family pictures. There are no stuffed animals; no indoor plants; no cheery pegboards.I remember wondering if anyone could really feel at home here, among annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-81935125151663299222007-11-01T22:13:00.000-07:002007-11-01T22:26:13.324-07:00all souls'I was thinking a lot today. Musing. I was primarily doing this because there wasn't a whole lot more I could manage, curled up in a little hung-over ball with a bottle of Advil on the bed next to me and a pillow pulled over my head.I was thinking about costumes. My costume. My mask.Inside, I am now and have always been a quiet, withdrawn creature who finds it difficult to connect annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-56351189585674466392007-10-26T11:41:00.000-07:002007-10-26T12:22:37.163-07:00creakY'know when you've been working so hard for the past few days that your body doesn't want to quit? An object in motion remains in motion, and so on.This week has been intense - though I have deep appreciation for these shorter jobs that teach me just how much stuff I can do; that show me the absolute limit of the number of things I can accomplish in a small period of time. I was annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-84457470047015186052007-10-15T21:14:00.000-07:002007-10-15T21:37:25.651-07:00from your first cigarette to your last dying dayI.I started out the morning ever-so-early, scooting to Venice at the asscrack of morning to extract my precious mobile office from ground zero of my first-ever job quittage.It felt good to get the hell out. But it felt strange and sweet to be so angry about it. So adversarial. So bellicose. I was called "the Big Bad Wolf," and I felt like it...annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-66317046704888704582007-10-11T14:50:00.001-07:002007-10-12T15:32:30.964-07:00the death of makeover-maniaI read a blog today, just by chance, and it really struck a chord with me.Here's the question it brought up in my mind - where lies the line between self-bettering and self-battering? At what point is it perfectly okay to say, "This is aight. This is me. I'm okay." At what point is that sentiment just lazy? America is obsessed with self-betterment, but America's annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-80879735386982561212007-10-09T16:03:00.000-07:002007-10-09T16:08:36.772-07:00not a day for the tough stuffThe air smells like giving up. Wait - strike that. The air smells like releasing what doesn't work, and returning to a smarter, less frenetic, more honest state of being.When we woke this morning, I had the sudden sense that today was a day for farmers' markets - perhaps even farm-visiting - and wide open spaces, and walking under trees. For blankets and jackets inannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-11014314073327607012007-10-08T14:55:00.000-07:002007-10-08T18:16:53.757-07:00eggshellI.It's time to paint. It's time to nest. It's time to take this perpetual skybox for the metaphorical Los Angeles home game and make it amazing.II.What a weekend. This is the stuff weekends were made to be; were conjured out of moon-based, pasted-on linear measurements to provide for us. It was a heart-pounding solo hike in flawless weather, accompanied by a freshly-synced iPod. It annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-11844057295290319232007-09-27T16:38:00.000-07:002007-09-27T16:42:38.309-07:00fun-size happiness1. The building manager replaced all our appliances with fresh-from-the-box, still-gotta-peel-the-plastic-off, factory-shiny new stuff! Oven, microwave, fridge, and dishwash. Everything. I heart our house.2. My job means that sometimes I have to tour amazing hilltop houses and dig my feet into beachsand in the interests of the work.3. The British call tech scouts "tech annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-13138178841855940512007-09-26T14:04:00.000-07:002007-09-26T14:55:21.152-07:00dogpaddleI'm keeping my head above water, which is good. I'm not sputtering, which feels nice.Problem is, I don't like the feeling of just swinging my legs in eggbeaters under my body. I wanna swim. I want to feel the water sliding over my back, and my hands cutting deep and pulling hard, and the giddy flipper-sounds of my feet behind me. Even if it means breathing a little seawater.I've beenannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-64272055744541047822007-09-21T21:49:00.000-07:002007-09-21T22:27:57.955-07:00ch-ch-ch-changesBecause it lost a few dress sizes in data (thanks, Blogger), my blog got a new outfit today. If you were previously linked-to and care to be again, let me know.The last couple of days have been stewing with mirror-house oddness. I got a call late on Wednesday, during the final moments of wrap on the last job, to start an unenviable new project (honestly, the least-enviable of annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-14875185478677343162007-09-11T00:37:00.000-07:002007-09-11T01:07:05.137-07:00signoff from the far, salty side of the worldBouncing over the Twentynine Palms moonscape in the hushed moments before the sun rolled itself out from over the Iron Mountains, it felt like an adventure.Crunching over great drifts of salt, which looked and sounded for all the world like snow...in hundred-and-eight degree weather...it felt like a trippy fever-dream.Sitting down to the rest of my annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-23522744054404577212007-08-19T21:02:00.000-07:002007-08-19T21:08:54.459-07:00harryingI've wanted to punch someone all day. I know I shouldn't let work frustrations take hold of my weekend, but it would be nice to play dentist with a screwdriver and a mallet when I'm in this charming mood.In other news, we met two complete charmers at Hidden Springs. It's been a long time since I've been convinced to be social, and now I'm all excited to meet a load of new people on annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-17285386137135716362007-08-11T22:25:00.000-07:002007-08-11T23:19:57.121-07:00mphToday was a golden day. We woke at dawn, hopping onto the bikes to see the sun rise over Placerita Canyon and then whizzing down through the curves for a well-deserved breakfast. We're beginning to inaugurate a Saturday-morning habit of this particular corner diner, in which we always catch sass from a waitress who doesn't so much as take an order but assigns an order on our behalves. annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-22666075618392247872007-07-26T09:55:00.000-07:002007-07-26T10:13:02.901-07:00mcmansion economics and a brown worldStaring out the window yesterday as we chugged through the Bel Air part of Sunset, I became fascinated by the scene at the roadside. It was bus stop upon bus stop, populated by the nannies and housecleaners and laundresses that allow the artifice of that neighborhood to function. Am I the only person in the world that believes that needing a staff to take annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-15617411073333649302007-07-16T12:24:00.000-07:002007-07-16T12:43:12.333-07:00life is a highway...and I'm gonna ride it until - well - about 4:45 AM.I was pretty sure I wasn't going to make it. I'd spent the night before in wakefulness, wringing my hands, thinking about what stuff can happen when one's body is hurtling along at freeway speeds on a machine you're not *quite* used to manipulating - and which still feels as though it has a malicious mind of its own, annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-42350986821275891652007-07-11T22:14:00.000-07:002007-07-11T22:16:38.143-07:00keep it simple, stupidI.I have - by far - the sexiest, awesomest boyfriend ever conceived. He's so good, I'm jealous of myself sometimes.II.I have the bike. She is MINE! Mwa ha ha ha ha.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-82238290655022971252007-07-01T21:57:00.000-07:002007-07-01T22:47:40.510-07:00i want my bottleI would be very curious to observe myself under pressure. Am I overconciliatory? Patronizing? Overtly hand-wringing? Didactic? Or do I seem all cucumber-cool and sane-alicious, even though there's a small nuclear device detonating in my emotional core? Gee, that'd be swell.I know I'm not as cool as I'd like to be. I take it personally. I care.I inherited the 'caring' thingannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-40461052792593003372007-06-16T17:42:00.000-07:002007-06-16T17:57:18.594-07:00the list of things i never thought i'd love, but madly do- bragging about my standout, grade-a, gold-star flossing habits to my duly impressed dentist- cleaning house- the way i feel with no caffeine in my body whatsoever, ever- choosing "waaaaait for it" instead of "do you take VISA?"- monogamy- the never-predictable ebb-and-flow of freelance work- a filing cabinet for widows and young annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-2226057700222443142007-06-15T18:41:00.000-07:002007-06-15T19:21:27.767-07:00and the livin' is easyI.I like my perch.Cerb and I are sitting in a pool of late-afternoon sun, looking out at the world through the glass walls of the solarium. You can view the very circulation system of the city from these windows - it's Los Angeles reimagined as an animated film about the body. The roads wound tightly around below us flow with red-blood-cell cars and white-blood-cell annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-88035283016720042002007-05-18T13:50:00.000-07:002007-05-18T15:37:46.961-07:00and whether pigs have wingsI.I've rolled directly from one commercial to another. I don't mind the short order at all - every step closer to the bike feels good, though it feels odd to be juggling a pair of huge car jobs like they don't mean a thang. Which they don't, really, in the big scheme.I'm working in a very interesting place this time. It's a meticulously scrubbed cavern of concrete annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-60358730658606048802007-05-10T10:14:00.000-07:002007-05-10T10:25:55.483-07:00the black-spidey paradeUm.So we went out to see Spiderman 3 last night. It pretty much amounts to this.Watching Tobey shake his itsy-bitsy little moneymaker like a gigolo on crystal meth was not unfunny, but I was hoping for a little more than action-porn...especially considering how fun and involving the first two were.Let's not make a four. Please? Thank you.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-73540873389180748392007-05-07T12:33:00.000-07:002007-05-07T13:10:14.406-07:00estate vintageMy legs were bruised and sore from kicking a disinterested horse - and Bear's were tired from his own long day of riding - but it was far too beautiful a day to stay home. After weeks of living under a grey-brown curtain, I finally came to the the top of my hiking hill to see Catalina's long green back rising out of the water...and such a thing bears celebration.So we met up in annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-17987372991843436142007-05-03T23:25:00.000-07:002007-05-03T23:26:03.635-07:00This is amazing.annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-79966130466938355752007-04-27T23:40:00.000-07:002007-04-28T00:02:30.116-07:00us, year oneI.I want to say so much, but I don't know where to start.About screaming through a gritted smile, hurtling headlong down a tropical road on a clunky, lurching scooter. About the sunset view from the pineapple fields, as seen from behind the chestnut withers of Mr. Kurt Russell. About the insouciant butteriness of fresh-caught ahi, perched on a pillow of coconut rice. About annette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5647390.post-80300022005963580162007-03-25T09:08:00.000-07:002007-03-25T09:38:12.244-07:00current obsessions* eco-friendly prefab* a treadplate-faced, EnergyStar-rated fridge on wheels* awesome lofts with a private dog park* Austin* the ninja 650r with my name on it* andiesannette lyn o'neilhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02009349936925908316noreply@blogger.com0