Falling Home

The tenderness of a fall breeze, the way it brushes past my cheek, running its soothing waves of waning life against my body.
The way the air takes my own away in consensual breaths of exhilaration and anticipation.
Oranges burn reds into ambers of light between branches and wrap the afternoon warmth in circles around its bark.
Falling, passing leaves, to the uneven earth in green frenzied fashion, knowing not where to go but what to do.

Aching with life to live and hours mocking to do so, lunging into time without fear, without poise, clumsily cautious but clamoring for something else.
Summer's arms are lowered and the shadow of the sun has cast a new season, when all begins to die, and nature mourns a visceral loss.

I found you amongst stifled buds and tortured late blooming flowers, when the moon seemed to almost catch the sun on its way to sleep.
Through slow moving clouds wishing for precision in their direction, but floating nonetheless as perfectly as they arrive, they leave.
I first saw you amid an evening as brisk as its soul old and wise, and there was a stillness in the way it all stopped, and you moved.

Somewhere between a crescent black sky and the quiet of the gray sidewalk lining my way home with ease and pleasure, the season knew to fall.
And as I turned and felt the breeze once again embrace my resolving being, I knew that because of you, I was home.

Wok Weiss

I have a very hard time listening to criticism. Besides the fact that I am near perfect and thus find most critiques (especially those aesthetically-oriented) a waste of time and makeup, I have always had a knack for seeing myself for what I am (a solid 9.8, 10 if I had better feet), and not in need for other people's "candid" opinions. But this morning was the first time since 3rd grade gym class when my teacher advised me to wear pants that do not promote camel toe even if I was 140lbs and 5 foot nothing, that I understood someone's honesty and guidance as really just trying to help.

My wonderful and tall boyfriend Bob frequently asks me what makes my face so tan. He is confused by my before and after bathroom looks in the morning, going from natural olivey skin tone, to florescent orange with a slight shimmer, enter Fried Weiss. I have explained to him, and to many of you who ask, that bronzer is a way of life not just an accessory and without my odd-reddish glow, I wouldn't stand out in a crowd of unsuspecting Caucasians, or have this blog. Bob then asked me to show him how much bronzer I wear and how I do my make-up. I didn't look up at his face until I opened the third bronzer in my 5-bronzer routine, and when I did, brush in hand, paint strokes almost even and ready for the next coat, he looked stunned, slight disgusted, and well, disturbed.

I had gotten so used to the bronzing ritual, I had forgotten how much of a maniac I was making myself look like everyday. I always wondered why none of the other sales reps at my job had printed proposals with orange fingerprints, or why my keyboard was a slightly pink/tan hue, or why my boss always asked me if I went away for the weekend and seemed skeptical when I said no. It was in that moment, in that simple moment of MAC tools and tall Bob's horror, that I saw myself for what I was - Burnt Weiss...

Today, I sit before you (pretend we are actually talking), a new shade of Weiss. With only one, and I repeat, ONE coat of bronzer and slight blush, I can actually feel the breeze touch my face today, I can touch white without worry, and my face matches my neck, chest, well, my whole entire body. I have gotten endless compliments (I think), from "you look so much better without all that crap" and "wow you really should spend less time in the morning getting ready - trying doesn't work for you." And so my friends, today and for the next few days (all I can promise for now), I will go where no overly tan, Jersey-looking, 5-bronzed women has gone: Weiss Au Naturale.

In the meantime, here are some ideas for my new blog name, just in case the anti-bronze thing sticks:

Wok Weiss
Pan-Fried Weiss
Baked Weiss
Seared Weiss
Lightly Toasted Weiss
Under the Broiler Weiss
Crock Pot Weiss
Weiss Tempura
General Tso's Weiss
Nuked Weiss

Opinions welcome...:)

Filet-O-Weiss

What a brilliant way to sell fish during a recession, especially at McDonald's. Can someone please make the hip-hop remix so I can dance in public to this amazing tune? I wouldn't be laughing if I were up on that wall, although if they fried me, well then I wouldn't argue. Fried Weiss, Filet-O-Weiss, either works...Check it out!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6bJOIqVAD-s

Valentine's Day and The Black Death

We are fast approaching one of the most paper-wasteful of the Hallmark holidays on our calendar. A day that is not remembered by what was given or received, but by how those gifts compare to what others get around you. A day founded during The Middle Ages, an era that started off well, but ended with the Black Death, war and economic strife. A day thought to have been based on a the story of Saint Valentine, who was rejected by his mistress and was so heartbroken, he stabbed himself in the chest and sent his "still-beating heart" to her to show is "undying" love. Ironic, and a bit disgusting, but this is why we send heart-shaped crap to one another, as a tribute to the Temple of Doom-like gesture that Saint Valentine so thoughtfully acted out.

It is approximated that nearly one billion valentines are sent each year worldwide, which makes Valentine's Day the second largest greeting card holiday of the year, only second to my birthday. It is also estimated that men spend twice as much money than women each year on this holiday. While I think commercialization is important, and responsible for most of my better physical features, I can't imagine what other gifts aside from chocolate, roses, heart-shaped boxes, jewelry and mixed tapes (is that just me?) they are going to have to push this year to try and get men to throw money away on such nuisances, when they can barely pay for their own necessities these days.

I do believe a romantic thought or two should be applied to this upcoming Saturday, February 14th, especially if done with originality (and includes a ten-pack tanning package), but this year, V-Day is gonna be a tough day for everyone. Given how hard I work at looking busy in the office, I need to save that little cash I do make, as do our men, so my vote is to forgo a lavish love fest this year, and go back to the small stuff, the little things that used to matter like fondue and feety-pajamas.

Feeling warm and fuzzy this year doesnt have to cost much, involve ripping out your still-beating heart and mailing it to your date, nor does it have to involve a mixed tape because where the hell do you find a tape deck anymore? This year, during a spiraling recession, late Middle Ages-like Valentine's Day, it should be more about what this holiday has always has been about, and I think somehow we have forgotten: Absolutely nothing.