Your name is important, whether you like it or not. It's an external identifying factor that separates you from the masses. Remember how excited you would get finding that bicycle license plate with your name on it? I don't. I never will. If my name is on anything it's because I put it there. My name is uncommon, and it wasn't until my late teens that I began to appreciate its uniqueness. As a child I faithfully watched Romper Room in hopes of hearing my name on TV. At the end of every show the woman would hold up this 'magic mirror' and look out to the viewing audience, she would then name all the kids she saw. I was front and center of my TV set, willing her to see me, just this once! But she never did. I would hear, "I see Brittany and Bobby, Jennifer and Jason", and I would think to myself, "Biatch – you said those names 3 times this week!" The point is, at long last there is redemption for Timika! I came across a posh hotel in my name, but it gets better. There's an airport called Timika and even an entire town named Timika, in Indonesia! Maybe my name is Indonesian. I was named after one of my mom's army buddies, but no one ever knew the origin. You might think I'm silly for getting so excited about it, but when you've spent your entire life defending your name, it's big potatoes. Now you might be wondering how it's pronounced anyway. The best tutorial I can offer without speaking it, not that speaking it guarantees you'll say it right either, is to think of combining the name 'Tim' with 'Micah'. Tim-micah. Timika. Got it? Ciao.

As I write this a part of me is dying. Just 3 hours ago I was outside taking a walk with one of my dogs, Twigi. We sat down under some trees and chilled for a while. As we started to walk back to the house she started vomiting. Not really a big deal, it happens. What's not supposed to happen is your dog collapsing. Just like that, she just kind of sat down and slumped over. I knelt down beside her and she let out a quiet groan. I stroked her a few times, tried to prop her up on her feet, and she just fell down. I scooped her up and rushed her into the house and called the vet...of course they JUST closed. I got the information for the nearest 24hr emergency animal hospital...20 minutes away. I drove like a bat out of hell. On the ride over she seems to be improving, her pupils less dilated, she even licked her teeny tiny teeth. I explained everything to the doctor. Her temperature was normal, he didn't feel anything abnormal, and her colour was good. I had hope. An hour after we returned home he called us. X-rays didn't show anything, but her pulse is dwindling, we can't do exploratory surgery. She's most likely going to die. WTF!!! One minute I'm enjoying a stroll with my pooch and now she's dying on some fucking cold table on Grand Island! As the tears burn my eyes I'm washed over with guilt...what if it's something she ate and it poisoned her and she's suffering because I made the choice to take her outside with me? UGH! Then to tell yourself, no, it's the way it is because it was meant to be. Meant to be. My cute little 5 year old miniature Yorkie, bouncing around at my feet and 30 seconds later slumped over in the grass. I'm a mess. My mom is on her way over to sign papers to put her down. My stomach is sick. I don't know that I believe in euthanasia. I don't want her to suffer by any means, but ending her life without at least trying for other options? Are our pets so expendable!?? Then I actually have to compose myself tomorrow morning and go to pick up her body!!!??? Life is so, so delicate. The balance literally decided in seconds. Oh Twigers, Twigerdito, Ye Mighty Twigster, Twigerdoodledoo...I love you so much my furry little munchkin.

I was depositing my check using the drive-up window at my bank. I had one of my dogs with me. Suddenly she began yodeling. Yes, yodeling, it's the only way I can describe the noise escaping her snout. It wasn't a bark, it wasn't a howl, and it wasn't a whimper....just a strange yodeling. The woman pops the drawer back at me, on top of my receipt is a milk bone! Bambi lunged out that window and snatched it up in less than a heartbeat. How cool is that, a milk bone for your pooch at the drive-up window. I love my dogs. Ciao.

bambi

I found this sweet retro Schwinn in the basement of my brother's new house, hosed her down, replaced the seat, pumped up the tires and took her out for an inaugural spin with a pal. We arrived at our destination just fine, but on the way home she got a flat. Apparently we had encountered glass along our route and it put a slow leak in her tire, and a halt to our ride. Walking a bike is always a bugger. We finally made back to base, and wouldn't you know it, my tire goes flat! But I go one step further...the glass had managed to wedge itself just right, so it ripped my tire a new one! Poor thing looked like a shredded chicken taco. Luckily there's a bright side. I've always been a mountain bike kind of girl and those smooth spindly tires were cramping my style. I'm going to see if I can pimp this green machine Lara Croft style and outfit it with more aggressive tires. Now we're talking business.

Speaking of bikes...Holy I almost creamed a kid on his bike last night Batman! I had to run to the market and took a spontaneous cruise on my way home. Sunroof open, windows down, stereo soothing my soul, the wind flirting with my hair – oooh it feels soooo good. I round the curve of the highway and there he is, the Kool-Aid kamikaze, heading right for me! He's in my lane, one hand on his bars the other clasping a large cup of sugary, grape flavored water...he doesn't even see me coming! Slow motion kicks in. My brain creates a horrific image: A joust. 10 pounds of aluminum at a velocity of 8mph VS 3,000 pounds of iron at a velocity of 60mph. Result: Kool-Aid and brain matter washing over my windshield and down through my sunroof and a new aluminum hood ornament. Barf! The kamikaze's wingman suddenly realizes the predicament and bellows a warning. I could actually taste grape on my lips as that cup passed inches from my driver side door.

I don't shake easily, but that was a bit too close for comfort. I head to a wicked cool graveyard and cop a squat under a particularly gnarly tree. The sweet scent of night blooming Jasmine fills my nostrils, helps to calm my nerves. The evening sky compares to an African sunset with its streaks of magenta emanating from a resplendent sphere of orange crush. The last of the rays are burning into the crumbling cross at my feet. Damn I wish I had my camera (and a beer), these shots are amazing! The sun dips below the horizon, nature's cue for me to head home. Graveyards are so soothing by daylight, and exaggeratedly creepy by moonlight, but I'd rather have a partner to share the shivers with. Ciao.

P.S. Yes, we read you (e:Thesimeon)! I gave you props for your cleverness!

I love trivia. This is way simple, but I wouldn't want to slam you with something too complex just yet. $5 to the first (e:peep) that can comment correctly! FYI - my motto is 'say what you mean and mean what you say'; I will chalk up the $5. Here it goes: 0,1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21,34,55.......

Tell me what it is. Ciao.

I hardly ever have cash on me. If it's an actual lack of cash to play around with, or just a preference not to carry it, I don't know. At any rate, a fellow co-worker was experiencing a cash flow problem due to a banking error. I've only known him 2 weeks. We've just ended up having lunch outside at the same table every day, and we hit it off. What's my point? That it makes me feel great that people are comfortable coming to me, whatever their need. Some folks think it's a crock to say it truly makes me happy to make others happy - but it's true. I'm not saying I like to give up my own needs and wants, I am human. But if there's something I can do, big or small, that is going to be of assistance, I'm happy to do it. Honestly, sincerely happy to do it. So, back to the story...I just happened to have cash on me today, and this new friend quietly pulled me aside and asked if I might have $5 to loan him to gas up his car so he can make him home. Come to think of it, the last time I was carrying cash a woman at a gas station was having problems with her debit card and started freaking out because she couldn't pay for her gas. She needed $10. I just happen to have a $10 bill in my pocket. So I gave it to her. Though I think there is something 'karma' like happening in this world, I don't do good deeds with intentions of falling in good graces. I just hope that when I'm stuck, stranded, hopeless or lost, that someone would care to lend a hand. Psycho killers need not apply. I think it's just plain cool that of all 700 employees this guy could have asked to help him out, he felt comfortable enough to ask me, a relative stranger. I of course expect nothing less in my world. Apparently I have some secret invisible ink tattooed on my forehead which reads, "Ask me, I can help". Perhaps I am in the makings of developing some super power, which would be sweet. Ciao.

My love affair with Batman spans over 2.5 decades. Watching re-runs of the caped crusader with my dad are among my favorite childhood (TV) memories. I had the great pleasure of meeting Adam West when I was 21. I knew he was only the man who 'pretended' to be a hero, but as I approached his table, my eyes became cloudy, my senses diminished. I didn't see Adam West, I didn't see Bruce Wayne, I only saw the dark knight...and the stars twinkled in my eyes. His voice was deep and raspy, "Well....hello beautiful. Do you know you are the most gorgeous woman in the room tonight?" Holy I'm melting like butter Batman! (If you ever meet me in person, you'll hear me make 'Holy

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Batman' quotes, be warned). Seeing Batman Begins with my old man flooded my brain with these memories. So thank you Christian Bale, for being so friggin' hot, and thank you David Goyer for writing such a wickedly superb movie.


tada!


ciao.

I had a lovely session of people watching the other day. I do believe it is among my favorite mental sports. If you like you can make a game of it; it usually starts out this way. How many people can you spot wearing fluorescent orange socks? You get 10 points for calling out the first woman with 3 inch talons on her hands. Maybe even voice over a conversation (this requires a partner observer). As much fun as the games are, I inevitably resort to wondering who these people are. What sort of lives do they lead? She looks like a high-maintenance prissy-pants with her salon perfect hair and meticulously groomed toenails...but maybe she goes home to a man that beats her because her spaghetti is too red. That guy smells like a parking garage stairwell ...but maybe his wife just died and he's so clouded in grief he forgets to shower. Humans are incredible creatures, we're so infinitely complex! It always reminds me to try and not pass judgment on others based on a quick glance or brief encounter. Had I always been callous and dismissive there are a number of people in my life right now that simply wouldn't be. That's mad crazy! Many people judge because they are afraid of diversity, afraid they might realize the very things they deem negative in others, are in fact extensions of themselves. Holding up the almighty mirror to one's face is not, by nature, desirable. Maybe we're just afraid that the next person will be another black hole. We've all experienced it. Their gravity pulls you, you burn your rockets in every futile attempt to escape, but once you pass the horizon, the point of no return... you're stuck. You slowly drift to the crunch, waiting for that moment when you are crushed out of existence. No trace of who you are will survive, you cease into nothing but matter-free mass. Maybe that's derivative for the term 'to have a crush' on someone. Forgive me, if you haven't noticed, I'm very tangential. On those days when you want to do something, but you don't 'feel' like doing anything – try people watching.
Ciao.

A few friends from Boston came to visit me this weekend. I gave up my bed and did some couch camping. It made me wonder just how much time I've spent sleeping on floors and sofas in my lifetime. According to my calculations I have surpassed the 2 year mark. At first I thought that was something, but then I remembered who I am, and I wouldn't expect anything less! Ciao.

For the first time in 2 years I took my book outside to read. The sapphire sky was cloudless and sunny, the emerald grass was soft and sweet. I'm not afraid of bees anymore, so I didn't mind their buzzing in the plum tree I was rested against. Sometimes I feel the world slipping through my fingers. People are becoming so disconnected from the earth, from each other. When is the last time you took off your shoes and felt the earth beneath your feet?