Mama Earth

Last Friday, April 22, the world celebrated Earth Day. One day out of three-hundred-sixty-five when we are asked to recognize our planet's selflessness, our selfishness and to act on our own selflessness. I hugged a tree. I recycled. I walked into town instead of driving. I planted four different types of perennials: Lavender, Georgia Blue, Coreopsis 'Early Sunrise' and Jackanapes. While digging in the dirt and apologizing to various underground bugs for disrupting their afternoons, I wondered why we only recognize the earth once a year. It's wonderful that we do, but why can't we celebrate monthly? We should be giving back to the environment on our own every day, and many of us do. We purchase reusable bags and beam while telling the cashier at Trader Joe's, "I brought my own bag." We participate in trash pickups. We volunteer to clean beaches on Saturday mornings. We leave our cars parked and ride our bicycles. We carpool. We take public transportation. We compost. We recycle. We use cloth rags instead of wipes and paper towels. We drink from canteens instead of buying cases of bottled water. We turn off the water while brushing our teeth. We use energy-saver light bulbs. We install solar lights along our home's exterior pathways. We do what we can to reduce waste and reverse enviro-damage. But we can all do more.

Lavender

I'm an Angeleno. I've been one for the past 4.5 years. While I still fantasize about living in Paris, writing at quaint sidewalk cafes on Boulevard Saint-Germain, I do love my current city, especially the west side, specifically Venice. But like the rest of the sprawl's 9.9 million inhabitants, I'm tired of the smog. I'm tired of looking out on my city after a hike and being blinded by that disgusting brown blanket. This is not every day, but when the temperature's high and the winds are wrong, this is the typical scene. L.A. is the fourth most polluted U.S. city by short-term particle pollution, the third most polluted U.S. city by year-round particle pollution and THE most polluted U.S. city by ozone pollution, according to the State of the Air 2010, a report conducted by the American Lung Association.

In honor of Earth Day, I have pledged to do more for Mama Earth every day. I also urge Angelenos to do more throughout the entire summer in my latest LAist post. You can read it here. After researching numerous local green events, I rounded up the ten most interesting finds.

Jackanapes, Coreopsis 'Early Sunrise' and Georgia Blue. And solar light.

Embrace your inner treehugger. There's nothing wrong with taking responsibility for your planet. There's everything right about it.

Edward Scissorhands

The number of times I watched this film eludes me. It released when I was seven, and though I cannot recall how old I was when I first experienced it, I can tell you the entire film, from start to finish, from every snip of Edward's scissors, is unforgettable. One of my best friends, Bubba, and I had a habit of constantly watching the same batch of "favorites" while devouring "Italian" offerings from our local Dominos. Sure, the weather may have been just right for play, but we had cinematic worlds to explore. Plus we'd probably already been outside for most of the morning and afternoon, poking around in the neighboring creeks, practicing field hockey passes in the backyard (once accidentally hitting my collie's frail ankle with the ball), throwing sticks onto Powder Mill Road and exploding with joy as cars crushed them with their wheels at a safe, suburban 40 miles per hour, turning over rocks, stalking my brother and his "hot" older friends or rolling tea cigarettes. FACT: York, PA offers an abundance of activities for minors. FACT: York, PA offers an equally impressive list of things to do for adults. HONEST FACT: I escaped as soon as I finished high school and will never move back.

Justin Parpan: Coming Home

My recent LAist coverage details an upcoming exhibition which features artworks based on the film, some of which were submitted to Sebastien Mesnard's Scissorhands 20th blog. I highly recommend following to receive updates on all amazing submissions. Unfortunately pour moi, the opening reception takes place this Saturday while I'll be roasting in the California desert at Coachella, but I cannot wait to visit Gallery Nucleus upon recovery to be transported by the 50+ pieces in the show.

One other reason for my excitement about this particular project is that my good buddy, Justin Parpan, created a piece for it. See the image to the right. Spectacular, oui? Justin is an immensely talented illustrator enamored by creatures - monsters, Bigfoot, reptiles, dinosaurs - you name it.  Remember the late-eighties movie, The Wizard, starring Fred Savage and Jenny Lewis? Remember the scene when they're in the desert with a giant dinosaur? That dinosaur still stands in Cabazon, CA, about 25 miles from San Jacinto, Justin's hometown. Understand his fascination now? If you ever have the privilege of meeting Justin, ask to see the tattoo on his wrist and ask him any dinosaur queries you may have. I'm 99% certain he'll have an answer for you.

Shoe Awareness & Mindful Manners

My two most recent LAist posts are very different and provided much insight on two awareness topics - shoes and etiquette.

I did a quick 10+ minute phone interview with Blake Mycoskie, Founder and Chief Shoe Giver of TOMS Shoes - very laid back and brilliant fella. While I was unable to participate in One Day Without Shoes last Tuesday, April 5, due to my still healing broken foot (I'm not taking any chances, people), I still feel very close to the cause. Checkout my coverage here.

On Thursday I participated in the Hammer Museum's Greeting Committee, an interactive experiment teaching guests lessons in etiquette. I can now give the perfect handshake. Come see me, I'll show you. If interested, you still have today & tomorrow to experience this project. Read my article here.

Look What the MySpace Dragged In...

Upon returning from my second weekend of Cabin de Wise fixin' uppin', I failed to muster up enough brain power to be truly productive. Tomorrow. So instead I decided tonight is the night to cancel my MySpace membership. Why? Because I haven't used it in years, and it just seems silly to leave it out there, floating online. But before I laid to rest that impressive profile I'd spent so many hours perfecting, finding the perfect layout and most relevant song for that time in my life, I had to backup all of my photos. And then I decided I had to read all of Hudson and I's conversations, since our relationship began on MySpace (special thanks to Mortek). I giggled at our early stages of courting one another, sometimes sounding like we do currently, though sometimes sounding like completely different people. After 4.5 years, we both are very different people. But we're still together. We do not, however, flirt with each other via social networks any longer. What a shame. We should resume. As I backed up those earlier chapters of my life, I couldn't help but read through my MySpace blog posts, minimal in their content and number. One of them really hit me, effective in its honesty and sense of self-actualization. My skin grew cool, and I shivered, remembering that feeling of true independence and happiness.

Dated December 9, 2006...

"Capacity Perceptions"

So I've discovered a way to gauge if I'm ready for a move, for a new city, for a green land. One day in Philly I was driving along the Schuylkill, and I looked over at the skyline and suddenly felt bigger than the city. Its capacity no longer overwhelmed me, no longer left me curious about its inhabitants, its contents. I could map it out in my head, picture the streets, any mystery had been replaced by familiarity and almost a warm sense of boredom. It's nice to feel comfortable in a place, to know every corner and crack. But the feeling that encompasses me as I drive to work every morning and stare to my left at the Downtown LA skyline is thrilling. I feel small and overwhelmed, almost minute, and I fucking love it. I have no clue what lies in between those buildings. I have some clue of the surrounding LA/Hollywood/Beverly Hills land, but not enough. That feeling rushes back to me when I drive home from work and the Long Beach skyline appears. It's refreshing. It's awakening. It has made me feel alive again, young but more mature, affected, affecting, genuinely ecstatic about my life in California. And the best part is, I'm never bored. There's just too much that remains unknown, could keep me occupied for years...