All posts in family

tuesdays with tara – volume forty seven

By On December 20, 2011 In family, friends, tuesdays with tara With 2 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume forty sevenPermalink

Christmas is a time of year that brings out a great deal of emotions in everyone around us. I do hope you appreciate how delicately worded and understated that sentence was.

I am not one of those bah hum bug types that dreads this time of year. For me, Christmas is, and has always been, all about my family; people who I am happy to say I am rather fond of and very attached to.

Yes, I am very much a family girl. Paradoxically, I always tend to live extremely far away from them. I returned from five years in Turkey only to haul ass across the entire expanse of the nation to Oregon. One would think I were making some sort of statement. It’s not the case. It’s just how my hand has played out.

The downside to this is that my one vacation of the year is usually spent flying home for Christmas. I don’t have to go into the headaches of flying during the holidays, or the additional expense of flying that time of year. But I will throw in the added crap fest of flying into a snowy place at that time of year and the flight delays and wing de-icings and emergency road closures. You know, just because I can.

In my entire life, I have only ever spent two Christmases away from my family.

The first was the year I was married (so so long ago!). Having gotten hitched and moved across the country, we were just too busted to fly home. We decided to drive out to Salt Lake City to spend the holiday with my sister in law, who was in similar financial straits that year.

Unfortunately, Salt Lake City freaked me the heck out. So white! So tidy! Everything closes at 6! The Temple is an ever present shadow! The beer is so weak!

We gave it a go. Honestly, we did our best. But I called home and whilst listening to the drunken merriment on the other end of the phone, proceeded to unravel entirely and curl into fetal position to cry myself stupid. It was a dark moment.

The last time I didn’t go home also involved a lack of funds: my first year in Turkey. I cannot tell you how incredibly pathetic it felt to be living in a country that didn’t even celebrate the holiday I would be missing so much. At first I thought the lack of Christmas-related ephemera would be advantageous. It only added to the sense of dislocation and alienation that I felt. I remember thinking that I was now living in a country in which one of the major celebrations involved the slaughtering of animals. It was another dark moment.

I won’t be going home this year. Again, it’s a matter of funds and the lack thereof. But I’ve made peace with all of this and am determined to do my best to make the most of what I do have ( an absolutely lovely man, two sweet kitties and a cozy home) and be happy for the people I love back home. I will miss them. I will yearn to be there. But I am determined not to fall apart and sob big baby tears.

I may even succeed!

She & Him – ‘The Christmas Waltz’

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for Christmas, you should do something nice for yourself and join the ‘T w T’ Facebook page.

twenty nine and 2190 days

By On August 14, 2011 In aric s. queen, family, life, my nephew, nyc, people, photos, the shanghai [exile] diaries, travel With No Comments Permanent Link to twenty nine and 2190 daysPermalink

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well, thanks, little nephew of mine.

it’s been a helluva year, since my last birthday…

let’s see:

- Josie and I spent my 34th cruising on Absurdity in the South of England, if you learn to sail, you can have her [boat].

- after that, I went to go see Nico [he'll be a quasi-uncle to you] in Paris and had the time in Paris that everyone wants.

- but I got into a little bit of trouble with the U.K. government, and had 30 days to leave.

- so, naturally, I dragged Josie to Vietnam. to live.

- we stayed there for a few months, but ended up going our separate ways. she to Australia to work. me to Oregon to finish a book.

- a few months into my stay in Bend, I finally got to meet you. and that very day, I started writing another book.

- a month of so after that, I flew to Perth to see Josie for her birthday. we took a campervan around wine country. it was fun.

- a few months later, I left Bend for a month in Oklahoma and the promotional run of the book would be released. it sold out.

- a few weeks after that, I got the call that I never thought I’d get – I was about to take a job in New York fuckin City! I’ve now been here a little more than 4 months and it’s been amazing. I’ve been sending you little postcards and stuff, hopefully one day you’ll be able to check them out.

- my birthday was spent with a lot of friends. which, considering how short I’ve been here, should tell you how lucky I am.

… so there you go, nephew – it’s been a fun 34th year. you just started walking and by the time my 36th [ugh] rolls around, you might even be able to talk with me on the phone a little bit. a lot of your and my birthdays will be spent on the phone, but I’ll try and make that up to you.

so, thanks for the card and the cheeky little grin. I showed this to a lot of people here and they all thought you were amazing.

and I think so too.

love,

Uncle Aric

11.38p

By On July 26, 2011 In family, life With 2 Comments Permanent Link to 11.38pPermalink

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fuck me, I’m drunk. most nights, it’s a nice drunk – a controlled drunk. I know how much I can drink by now, but I wasn’t expecting a late night call from yesterday. I was happily having my cigarette in the backyard of my Brooklyn residence and I get a call. it was a call, but all I remember was a laugh, a laugh that immediately brought back the nostalgia of a decade ago. were we really such assholes? so sure we were meant to make a difference that we would take too many percocet and cry – embraced – over the fact that we had done nothing for the kids? I have no idea what we were meant to do for the kids, seeing how we were them, but we were heartbroken nonetheless. it was so long ago, but not too long ago that we had big dreams – of being pilots and weathermen and whatever the fuck I thought I was going to be… we had big dreams and we were inseparable because of them. I just had to spell check ‘inseparable’ because I’ve had too much wine. I don’t usually have too much wine, because I know my limit, but tonight, after talks of airport legalities and Mexican moped rules, I had to pour another drink. I had to because too much happened during those 3 or 4 years we were inseparable [fuck me, that's a hard word to spell]. we fought, too – once, funnily enough, because I didn’t know the meaning of a word one of them called me. I had to fight because I didn’t understand the word. we fought outside of the apartment I would be kicked out of because I spent all of my money on drugs and then, we’d Delta Force into the apartment building to try and get my golf clubs. fuck me, we were going to be big. I suppose we ended up that way, one flying planes, the other on television and me writing some book, but that laugh said it all, didn’t it? that laugh told me that we still remembered each other with big dreams. maybe that’s why we got along. there were too many pills and too many nights in the hottub to remember exactly, but we know there were nights. fuck! what was that word you called me? it pissed me off so much, I had to shove you up against the wall… you walked away and 30 seconds later, I had to run after you because I was sorry. borrowed phones, ruined ice cream sandwiches, shaved legs and arm wallets. can we get the band back together once more to remember the innocence? probably not, because there wasn’t a lot of innocence. but I heard the laugh and it was a laugh of someone who knew me before the bullshit, and I knew him. and somewhere, probably asleep, was someone else who could testify. if I wasn’t drunk, I could find a photo, but fuck… I am. and I won’t say ‘I’m sorry’ because I opened up that bottle of wine for innocent’s sake. I opened it up because I remembered someone who remembered me before it all became so serious. we did it, we did something, between the three of us, we did something. we’re still assholes, but at least we did something.  I needed that phone call today, I wrote, it was good for my soul. at this age, when memories are more of a conversation piece than something to make, I needed it. I needed it because I needed to be reminded of being a punk kid, with two punk kid pals. we were ready to set the world on fire, and we accidentally did. I forgot about my 22-year old laugh.

2027

By On January 12, 2011 In books, family, friends, life, my nephew, travel With 3 Comments Permanent Link to 2027Permalink

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if you’ve ever wanted to drive me nuts – I mean, nuts – say something like ‘remind me to tell you something later’. I’m serious, that phrase alone, or one like it, does my head. I go crazy trying to figure out what it was, or what I’ve done wrong. same goes for me, I can’t keep my own secrets – even at Christmas, my parents have to buy presents for everyone else from me, less I end up telling them early what’s in the box.

it’s bad.

in fact, it’s so bad that I can’t even not come clean about the book I’ve started.

the other one is almost done, due early April, so please buy it – my self-validation is still dangerously in the balance.

but this one, this is one I kind of feel I was meant to write – as upmyownass as that might sound. but it’s true and I can’t keep a secret any more.

see, the birth of my nephew affected me so profoundly, I knew something special was happening. and then, this past Christmas, where I finally got to see him in real life, well, it became very, very clear to what my magnum opus was to be.

it’s called ‘dear nephew’ and, due to a certain amount of adult content, it’ll be given to him on his 18th birthday. with each place that I travel, with each fascinating person I meet, with every experience that shapes me and with each mistake I make, I’m writing it down in letter form to him. and, a quick look back on my first year of his first year on this earth will tell you I’m not with lack of content – be it for destinations or screw-ups.

and the best part is that I’m writing it to him and only him. in this last book, I wrote to an audience of friends, but this one is simply uncle-to-nephew… and I’ve never been more excited to write something. granted, I get to spend most of the chapter talking about myself, but in all honesty, ‘me’ is probably the only thing that will hold my written-attention for the next two decades.

and who knows? maybe that’s why I’m here – not just to live it, but to write it down for someone I love.

it’s somethin’ to help me cut back on the whiskey nights and chemical sunrises, that’s for sure.

an early year in review

By On November 21, 2010 In aric s. queen, family, friends, life, my nephew, people, photos, travel, tuesdays with tara, work With 1 Comment Permanent Link to an early year in reviewPermalink

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I had a rather exciting year.

and, as of last Sunday, have spent this past 12 months literally around-the-world.

if this is your first time here, I feel the need to preface this with sure, from the surface, I might come across as an adventurer, which is great – no one hates being called an adventurer… and I do love a good adventure, but if you’ll take the time to read the stories and not just look at the pictures, you’ll see how surrounded I am with very generous, very kind and very tall people who let me stand on their shoulders to see The Big Show…even if that means that they’ll miss it.

and therein lies my gold.

but yeah, 2010…

sheesh.

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14 countries.

32, 168 miles.

and many more highlights that I’m sure are being forgotten.

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it was a good year, as was the last. and the one before that.

but, as stated, if you look closely, you’ll see that I had very, very little to do with it.

pack. repack. but, stay for a while.

By On November 17, 2010 In family, friends, life, travel With 1 Comment Permanent Link to pack. repack. but, stay for a while.Permalink

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I live between a theatre room and a chicken coop. there’s really no other way of describing it.

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4 days ago, I was stabbing my way through the streets of Saigon on a motorbike. and now I’m here, between a theatre room and a chicken coop. in Bend, Oregon.

jet-lag takes great pride in smacking me. what was it Spalding Gray said?  ’I refer to jet lag as ‘jet-psychosis’ — there’s an old saying that the spirit cannot move faster than a camel.’ and I’m feelin’ it, lemme tell you. if I hadn’t had torn down all the mirrors one night in a friend’s apartment and then stood in front of them whilst pissing myself asking ‘what is the matter with you?’, I’d be tempted to drop an Ambien and wake up refreshed – but does anyone feel bad for me?

you shouldn’t, as I’ve only described a small part of the new chapter.

I’m with two of my best friends - no, hang on, I use ‘best friend’ term a lot and, while I mean it when I say it, the two people I’m living with are so far beyond that – they’re family. so I’m living with two extended members of my family in the most ridiculous house I’ve ever set foot in – my room’s location should be an indicator of that. walk out past the theatre room and there’s a fully-stocked bar. to the left is an old arcade game that plays all the old arcade games. and then there’s a breakfast nook where I’m sitting as we speak. behind me is a view that I’m actually holding off on photographing until it’s absolutely clear, just so you can understand the ridiculousness of it.

okay, no – I at least have to show you what it looks like from the balcony at 7 in the morning.

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so yes, I left Ho Chi Minh. it was fine and I was making money and 6 months there would have made me more than enough for the big sailing trip next year, but one night, Josie and I had a wonderful grown-up talk about her not really liking it there and, while we were fine – more than fine, actually, we were really good – there’s no substitute for happiness in the place where you are personally and I cherish finally being of the mental maturity to not take something like that personally. she’s doing a great job of documenting her own journey and I highly suggest you delve into it a little.

she left for a beach and I left for some cold mountain air. the book is the priority as it’s going to pay for my little trip – more on that in a bit as well.

but if we’re going to talk book, then I should mention something that’s been a huge catalyst for my constant revisions of this little memoir I’m penning. see, ever since I was given a nephew, I’ve started realizing who, and what, is important… and it’s him. and while Uncle Aric might have been able to sell 1000 more copies of the book if he left in the original amount of drugs and sex, 1000 copies is nothing when you consider his parents might [rightfully so] not want him to read it. so it’s being cleaned up and I can’t wait – mom and dad will be happy with that. as will some of you.

does this make any sense, this entry? it kind of does to me, but I’m also walking under water right now, what with living in the mountains, being surrounded by people I love, and people who love me, and mircobrews that would make even a non-drinker weep.

so yeah, I’m all over the place.

but the more I write about it, the less I think it’s jet lag.

in fact, I’m sure it’s not jet lag.

my body is just experiencing another vicious case of fortune.

mission l’impossible

By On August 16, 2010 In family, friends, life, music, people, photos, travel With 2 Comments Permanent Link to mission l’impossiblePermalink

we had this one night in Paris

someday I’ll say

and then try to explain everything that went on.

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but it’s not today.

I can’t write that well.

fortunately, my man Nico was taking a few photos.

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none of the 4am bike rides through the quiet streets of Paris

both of us in tears - some for a friend, and some for the bikes.

the most unfortunate accordion player is just a blur

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as was his switching from Edith Piaf to Radiohead without missing a note.

earlier macaroons

and even earlier petanque.

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so you get the pictures.

and can fill in the blanks as you go.

because, well, that’s basically what we’re doing.

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tuesdays with tara – volume fifteen

By On July 13, 2010 In family, life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 5 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume fifteenPermalink

[not taken by me]this is quickly becoming the most popular visit on this little blog. and I feel the need to explain to the new-comers. it ain’t me, babe, this is Tara Noble writing. and gosh, can she write. she has 433 books in her head [studies have been done] and is nice enough to share a few chapters with us. not to mention her music is better than your music, meaning you should listen up as well. listen to Tara. then listen to the music. then re-listen to Tara while re-listening to the music. shit starts to make sense then. there are now fifteen ‘tuesdays with tara’, which is more than 4 months worth. fifteen is also an arbitrary number used to refer to a large quantity of things, but that’s neither here nor there. the funniest part of all of Tara is that she and I have never met – and I seriously can’t remember how we met. I just know we did. and I know how happy I am about it.

aric

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Every now and again, we all earn the right to just blow it out.  This feeling can erupt suddenly or it can be a creepy sneaky thing that pokes its head around the corner and retreats, only to come back when you least expect it.  When we feel as though a little celebration might be in order, it’s important to first recognize how beautiful that feels; that piece of knowing.  It’s a something that deserves to be savored because it encompasses so many things.  Maybe it’s a lot of hard work that you’ve put into a project.  It could be that a lot of sacrifices you have made to some end have finally produced fruit.  It may well be the satisfaction that one feels when they understand with absolute certainty that they “finally get it.”

Epiphanies are surely as good a reason for a little celebrating as anything else.

When I was home for Christmas, my father tried to have one of his words-of-wisdom talks with me.  This usually happens about every five years or when I seem to have fallen off track a bit too much for his comfort.

What he said to me this time around was that his greatest wish for me was that I could take some time just for myself to think about what I wanted out of life and not allow someone else to dictate the direction in which I moved (literally and figuratively).  I knew what he was saying, of course, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, but instead of reacting like an adult who appreciates the knowledge and love of her father, I got overly emotional and acted as though I had missed the point entirely.  And my dad is a pretty typical guy in that once the waterworks start, all bets are off.  He backed away and we rode in silence until the subject had dissolved into the air.

I’ve just recently come to the realization that I am presently doing exactly what my father suggested that I do for myself.  Not only do I have the luxury of time for self reflection (in my currently unemployed state), but I have the benefit of people in my life with whom I can relate these discoveries and victories.

The long and the short of it is that I am feeling pretty darn good about myself these days. I am beginning to feel validation about my most recent life choice to give up the comforts of life abroad to come home and start from Square One.  It took a lot of courage, but courage I have always had in spades.  What feels so glorious about now is the fact that everything seems to be falling into place for me and I have a sense of harmony that I may never have truly known before.  Years of crying and struggling and confusion and paying my dues in ways I never imagined have all apparently paid off.

The Head and The Heart – ‘For The First Time It Sounds Like Hallelujah’

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r.i.p.s.b.

By On July 8, 2010 In family, friends With 4 Comments Permanent Link to r.i.p.s.b.Permalink

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this is the sad story of a boat gone too soon.

christened ‘scuffboat’, the name coming from the neglected home she came from – abused. cast aside. abandoned. if boat-abuse was a movement, this poor soul would have been pictured on a print ad in the rain, with a soft ‘why???’ as a caption at the bottom followed by a toll-free number. she was basically given to us for free [read: given to us for free]. it wasn’t a good place she came from.

but that all changed when we adopted her. told her she was special and different from other dinghys. and I think she even believed us. we cleaned her up, put some wood on the side and her dirty bottom and voila! a new boat arose from the ashes of a hard English Winter. she was the first boat to take me to my bigger boat. a family of misplaced orphans we were. I took her out when I was blue and she nicely tipped over to make me realize just how important things like ‘getting wet’, ‘being broke’ and ‘falling out of love’ were.

she knew.

and she didn’t deserve to… well, see, this is where it gets hard. not emotionally – I mean, yes, emotionally, but hard in the sense of I don’t exactly know what happened to her.

I lost her.

as in – I lost a boat.

thought my boarding the wrong plane was impressive? yeah – me too.

but, well… she’s gone.

I tied her up one day out on the mooring to go sailing and decided to – seeing how some bad weather was on the way –  tie up next to the boatyard – one of my favorite places in England. came back the next day and headed back out the next morning.

there was no scuffboat. no ropes. nothing.

some say she blew away.

other’s say she sank.

I prefer to think she, like the rest of her family, fancied an adventure.

and went to have one.

or, that’s what I’ll tell myself.

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there’s a new tender now.

‘scuffboat II – the revenge’

we lover her. a good boat. could possibly be even better…

but, much like The Godfather Part I and II – even though the latter might be a better film, you can still never like it more.

the eldest sibling in me would like to assume this is how the birth-order works as well.

and this is not the first scuffboat.

that’s why my mentor has a more solemn look in the second photo.

shit got real.

such is our predicament.

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Nick bought me a big book of knot-tying the other day… I tried not to take offense.

trippin’

By On July 8, 2010 In family, friends, life, my nephew, people, travel With 3 Comments Permanent Link to trippin’Permalink

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I have lots to catch-up on. lots, I tell ya. stories of Venice. stories of England. loads of interviews for the friday cinco. life. grubcrawling™. the-girl-with-the-great-name. and how I managed to lose a boat.

but all I can think about is the big trip. if I believed in writing in capital letters, the big trip would be capitalized. it’s going to be a very, very big trip.

now, yes. any scan through this little site of my hopes-and-dreams and what happens when I plan will tell you it ain’t gonna end up like this – but keep in mind, that was before. I was young. misguided. unaware. without direction. and without boat.

at least now I have a boat.

see, this time next year, I’ll be a few months into the big trip [seriously, feel free to capitalize it in your mind]. and brother, what a trip it will be.

can I at least list the highlights?

thanks.

may-ish, we take off – I say ‘we’ because I’ll be following Mel-and-Nick’s journey. pretty much crashing their party. but hey, when you squat in their homes for the better part of a decade, what’s one more annoyance? they did front me the money for the boat – it’s the least I can do to thank them.

okay, yes – the path. the plan. the Bi… ah, see how excited I am? damn near went against all of my grammatical beliefs there.

the big trip.

[may-ish. but I've said that. I'm on fire.]

- leave the UK for France [Mt. St. Michel - maybe?! have been trying for years]; spend a month or so making our way down the coast to…

- the Bay of Biscay; hopefully stopping in/around San Sebastian, which is one of my favorite cities in the world.

- from there, it’s down around to Portugal, where hopefully someone can tell me what my tattoo means.

- and then across to The Azores. I’d never even heard of these islands before, but the fact that a large number of ‘scholars’ think it to be part of Atlantis is enough for me. and they’re gorgeous.

- then, the second-to-longest stretch, down to The Canaries. have a peek. good stuff.

- Mel and Nick will stay here for a few months, I’m going to grab a flight [not a sail, mind you - have been warned] to Morocco for a month or so.

- …and then. the Atlantic Crossing. 40+ days at sea*. just me and my little red boat.

- ending up in The Caribbean. not sure exactly where, but I’m not fussy when it comes to The Caribbean.

… and that’s it, the big trip. the very big trip. should be about 13-15 months in total. a lot needs to be done by then, saving some pennies [shockingly cheap, when you consider everything - 6 grand for the whole year], fixing up the boat [she's getting prettier by the day. except for the day when I had her tied up against a big stone wall and a storm came and slapped her around. but we're not talking about my negligent parenting right now]. and oh yeah, learning how to properly sail. I’m slowly getting better at that as well… slowly.

so – I leave the U.K. around the middle of September. head home for a few weeks to see the fam and my brand-new nephew. and then back to Oregon, as I miss my closest friends, the O’Sisneys. and they’re going to speak to the entire city about finding me some work. this is also the time when the book will be completed [tired of hearing that? me too. thus - a real deadline. more on that in a bit]. I’ll stay there until late winter/early spring, when I’ll come back here and have a few months to work on Absurdity and then…

well…

away we go.

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*I could talk ad nauseum about how much a 40-day solo voyage excites me. in all seriousness, there’s not a lot of sailing, per say, going on. the Trade Winds blow you and, funnily enough, the people I’ve spoken to who’ve done the trip say ‘boredom’ is the biggest challenge. that, and having to wake up every 15 minutes to check the horizon. but I’ll be taking no booze, no ciggies, no Facebook [!], no music, no one. on a very tiny boat. they psychology of this entire thing fascinates me. of course, I say this, but have never been alone for so long, not to mention with no vices. might get out there and find some stuff out I don’t want to. which would be funny… in time. but I want to do stuff – fish. read. shoot off messages in bottles with my information and then promise to visit whoever finds it. and find the humor in making twosies in a bucket. etc.

[I'm also going to try and find a sponsor who'll foot the bill for a satellite phone so I can send little Twitter updates along the way - I think that'd be a good read.]

so, you know. stuff like this.

adventure is out there!

or… so I hear.

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