On the last day of the calendar year, the air is cold, but the sun is shining. Robins chirp and chase each other across the road and into the trees as I walk down the block. Lots of robins. Chickadees. A sparrow. A lone hummingbird on a bare branch above me.
Lots to do, unmotivated, so I kill time reading Facebook for a while. Visiting family for a couple of days over the holiday week, staying in a hotel and renting a car, more than enough of a Christmas gift (though I suppose I wouldn't turn down new underwear or wool socks, other than that, don't really need anything.) Spent the second day in the hotel room, enjoying a clean kitchenette, and a bathroom I wasn't constantly having to clean before even touching anything in. Distracted all day with writing, then reading, then planning out possible art projects having been suddenly inspired, and napping, because I still wasn't feeling well. Later, having some regret at not going out and visiting town, or driving out in the countryside I used to know so well, but never have time to visit lately.
Distracted after dinner with the family, for my brother's birthday, and driving back to the hotel, I almost hit another car, but thankfully put my foot back on the brake before the cars made contact. Forced myself to pay attention. When I was just about back at the parking lot, I saw what I originally thought might be a large dog off to my right, I slowed down. It was a deer, long ears, furry against the light in its winter coat. Then a couple more, a small herd. After I parked I walked back to see them, further ahead security swept a light across a building, and I thought perhaps I shouldn't be out wandering around in the dark. They were still there, but I turned and hurried back to the safety of the hotel.
In the morning, before I left for home and to return the car, I stopped to say goodbye to my parents. My dad suggested taking pictures of the snow geese in the Skagit Valley. It was too dark, and they were far away. Mostly crossing the sky, hundreds aloft, the flocks crossing formations with one another, making cryptic patterns in the sky. One (huge) flock came down to land in a bright green field, swirling en masse, forming a tight white circle of birds on the ground. Something I hadn't seen before, though I couldn't really pull over, so I just slowed, and glanced repeatedly out the side window as more and more dropped down, widening the circle further and further out.
Back in town, I wondered how I could possibly fill the time of four more days off. I went out to walk the lake before it rained, choosing the opposite direction than usual. A white bird landed amidst some crows. A duck. No, a goose. A snow goose, alone, must've got blown off course, lost it's flock. It wasn't around on Christmas, that I noticed. The crows harassed it, a lone female mallard seemed open to the company. I haven't been back, so I don't know if it found its way.
I'll be glad when the holidays are over, and the expectations have passed. Think I'll go walk a labyrinth later. They say there is a place to burn things, and I have things I need to let go of. Let them burn, and start over.
Happy New Year.
Sunday, December 31, 2017
Tuesday, December 26, 2017
Driving at night in the country
I'm tired, so I get in the car and drive to my hotel. It's dark out. An all encompassing darkness not often encountered by my city eyes. I'm driving, alone. The tail lights ahead of me, two cars, suddenly veer and disappear, but I can't see the turn. The houses to my left come to an end, there is forest to my right. Headlights barely give off enough illumination to catch the turn to the right as I come upon it. A sudden wash of sodium glare from the gatehouse cuts through the darkness: a lonely artificial island in the night. I stop, reach to dim my lights, roll down the window, grab my paperwork, as a gloved hand waves me forward. The woman at the security check-point steps toward me and reaches for my gate pass; eyes me and my stupid owl sweater (stupid, but warm, and the night is cold), looks down at the paperwork, reads it, looks me over again, hands it back, then steps back to wave me through the gate. Up ahead one car comes toward me, then nothing else. I pass over the first speed bump before realizing I haven't turned the lights back to full. I switch them over: it doesn't help much. I pass the second speed bump. A few hundred feet ahead a single yellow streetlight burns near a small out-building a somehow welcome sight, even though I know it is empty of people. Ahead, only darkness, forests on either side. I'm wide awake, checking the automatic locks, then again, for a sense of security. I'm fully alert now, my eyes wide, scanning the dark in front of me, trying not to think of horror movies. Telling myself that the dark figures up ahead are driftwood, trees, stumps; not some person waiting along the side of the road to jump out in front of me...and then wondering what the plan should be if one did? But it's not. And the figures are only driftwood, and trees, and stumps. It's just a drive to a hotel. Further along, I can see lights of a town glittering across the water, behind me, the yellow light can no longer be seen, and only darkness greets my gaze out the rearview mirror. The smell of sulphur rises up to my nose through the ventilation system. I'm passing through a wetland, then the beach to my left. I glance over to see if the odor is from a low tide, but the tide is high, the water glistening in spite of the darkness. Overcast, no stars or moon. Up ahead, abandoned cars in a parking lot of the Exchange, the Commissary. Ahead of me a car coming toward me makes an abrupt left in front of me, and I am alone again. Yellow lights flood a gas station off to my right, but I go forward. At the last moment, see the swerve in the road to the left, to my destination, up the hill. A mostly full parking lot greets me. I can see a woman at the front desk, the door still open. I pull into a parking spot close to the building. Grab my bags and lug them to the entrance. It opens for me, the woman looks up and then away; a family plays a card game by a Christmas tree. I see the carpeted stairs to my floor, climb them, enter my room, and phone home. I've arrived safely, as I knew I would. Alone, and now too awake to sleep.
Monday, December 25, 2017
Christmas Morning
It started to snow around 3:30 yesterday afternoon. It snowed quite heavy all through the Christmas Eve service, and I drove home, roads to my house, a little icy, but manageable. Every time I had to stop, I gazed at the trees, and how beautiful they looked against the darker sky. Called home, decided not to drive up. Spent the evening watching "The Christmas Story" marathon on TNT (watched it more or less twice-I cooked dinner during the second time.) Four of my housemates were also in town, though they mostly hide in their rooms.
It snowed over night. There were about three inches in my neighborhood. I went out and traipsed around the lake for a couple of hours this morning, until my camera batteries died, and I was back where I started at that point. Also, I wanted coffee. Starbucks was open, and really busy. The park was crowded, people out skiing, sledding, creating snow people, building forts...I was somewhat surprised, being Christmas morning and all (but then, also a snow day/holiday, and we don't have that too often.) Felt festive. It's melting now.
I thought I might be melancholy, being here, but I woke up really happy. And I love snow. Don't know what I'll do for the rest of the day, don't think I'll drive up, not sure what the road conditions are, and I have a car I've barely driven before.
It's so quiet, and peaceful.
It snowed over night. There were about three inches in my neighborhood. I went out and traipsed around the lake for a couple of hours this morning, until my camera batteries died, and I was back where I started at that point. Also, I wanted coffee. Starbucks was open, and really busy. The park was crowded, people out skiing, sledding, creating snow people, building forts...I was somewhat surprised, being Christmas morning and all (but then, also a snow day/holiday, and we don't have that too often.) Felt festive. It's melting now.
I thought I might be melancholy, being here, but I woke up really happy. And I love snow. Don't know what I'll do for the rest of the day, don't think I'll drive up, not sure what the road conditions are, and I have a car I've barely driven before.
It's so quiet, and peaceful.
Sunday, December 24, 2017
Early on Christmas Eve
So, I got sick again, this time on Friday, which I guess was convenient only in that I had already taken the day off. Had another horrific headache that lasted about 40 hours. I probably need to go to a doctor, these were eight days apart. Had some chills and fever with it, too, so...I don't know. And a bit wiped out on Saturday, but well enough to pick up a rental car and run errands. But I'm not ready to go out of town tonight.
Had been planning on making calendars, but due to my computer being non-functional, had tried to save the files from a different computer, and they didn't open at the store, so went to a different store today for a plan B. That ended up taking longer than planned because I decided to have gift-wrapping done (I'm not going to get much else done today, I have to be at rehearsal for singing tonight at 4 pm, and I need to get gas for the car and a bribery present for the dog, since he's afraid of me.)
Walking to the store, I came across a Santa Claus and an elf outside the seafood market, someone told me there had a been a long line earlier. It cheered me up to see them, but they were gone when I walked back later.
Anyway, I bring this up because the timing of it all allowed me to come back to the car right as a family was walking down the street with paper bags with Christmas trees painted on the front. They walked underneath a stairwell where people sometimes hang out to get out of the elements, and who have no place else to go. As they walked away, I heard a voice from under the stairs holler back, "Thank you!" They were going out of their way to find people unsheltered in the U-District (and there are many) and to give them Christmas presents. So, beautiful it made me cry. So glad to have been there to witness it.
There is still love in the world.
Merry Christmas!
Had been planning on making calendars, but due to my computer being non-functional, had tried to save the files from a different computer, and they didn't open at the store, so went to a different store today for a plan B. That ended up taking longer than planned because I decided to have gift-wrapping done (I'm not going to get much else done today, I have to be at rehearsal for singing tonight at 4 pm, and I need to get gas for the car and a bribery present for the dog, since he's afraid of me.)
Walking to the store, I came across a Santa Claus and an elf outside the seafood market, someone told me there had a been a long line earlier. It cheered me up to see them, but they were gone when I walked back later.
Anyway, I bring this up because the timing of it all allowed me to come back to the car right as a family was walking down the street with paper bags with Christmas trees painted on the front. They walked underneath a stairwell where people sometimes hang out to get out of the elements, and who have no place else to go. As they walked away, I heard a voice from under the stairs holler back, "Thank you!" They were going out of their way to find people unsheltered in the U-District (and there are many) and to give them Christmas presents. So, beautiful it made me cry. So glad to have been there to witness it.
There is still love in the world.
Merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 20, 2017
Almost the end of the year
Still waiting on the dryer to be fixed, but landlord thinks the washer is okay. A friend offered to take me to the laundry mat earlier...might take her up on it, I still need to wash my sleeping bag from my trip. (Just haven't gotten around to it. Need a front loader, and we don't have one. On my last morning hiking, I found what I think was toothpaste all over it. Not mine, I think someone had spilled it on a couch in the last place I stayed. I sat on the couch in the semi-dark to stuff my sleeping bag in it's sack, and repack my backpack.) And ack! I can't believe Christmas is in less than a week! I have stuff to get done between now and then, but I just come home and sleep. Still pretty wiped out.
Last week was pretty rough, though there were surprising bright spots, which made up for the bad. Also, I found myself able to let go. In the past, I would've been stressed out all weekend (had a work thing happen late in the day on Friday), but by the time I was ready to go to sleep on Friday night, I'd already let go of it. My eyes are pretty open and it changes things, but I'm not stewing. I'm not driving myself crazy or making myself sick over it. I also received unexpected support, maybe because I'm learning how to let people in.
Been good at being independent for so long, learning how to balance that with letting people in. Learning how to give people a chance to care. I'm not good at it, but I'm realizing just because I've always (or at least half my life, I might have been different as a kid) been a particular way, doesn't mean I can't change. Since I'm still alive, I can change. Even if it's a steep learning curve, I can grow. I don't always have to be who I've become by default. I do still have agency. I can choose differently. And our past doesn't necessarily have to decide all future outcomes, changing one thing (outlook, behavior, learning something new which opens doors you always thought of as closed) could make all the difference. If a single choice can negatively effect your future, than a different single choice could just as easily positively effect your future. (I'm not thinking of what would seem like a major thing, but if I do it, it will change what my life could be. That's a strange thought, how something so minor could make that much of a difference, and yet it does.) And when I look at it that way, there is more hope in it.
Last week was pretty rough, though there were surprising bright spots, which made up for the bad. Also, I found myself able to let go. In the past, I would've been stressed out all weekend (had a work thing happen late in the day on Friday), but by the time I was ready to go to sleep on Friday night, I'd already let go of it. My eyes are pretty open and it changes things, but I'm not stewing. I'm not driving myself crazy or making myself sick over it. I also received unexpected support, maybe because I'm learning how to let people in.
Been good at being independent for so long, learning how to balance that with letting people in. Learning how to give people a chance to care. I'm not good at it, but I'm realizing just because I've always (or at least half my life, I might have been different as a kid) been a particular way, doesn't mean I can't change. Since I'm still alive, I can change. Even if it's a steep learning curve, I can grow. I don't always have to be who I've become by default. I do still have agency. I can choose differently. And our past doesn't necessarily have to decide all future outcomes, changing one thing (outlook, behavior, learning something new which opens doors you always thought of as closed) could make all the difference. If a single choice can negatively effect your future, than a different single choice could just as easily positively effect your future. (I'm not thinking of what would seem like a major thing, but if I do it, it will change what my life could be. That's a strange thought, how something so minor could make that much of a difference, and yet it does.) And when I look at it that way, there is more hope in it.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Sick day
Feeling listless, listening to a radio station pledge drive. Home for a second day. Yesterday I felt like I was dying, laid in a ball on the nasty couch for 14 hours straight. (Funny how circumstance will change one's standards. Under normal circumstances I wouldn't put my face any where near that couch.) Food poisoning or a stomach bug, raging headache (one of the worst I've ever had), which I couldn't get to go away. Listening to the tv, and having to bury my head whenever food commercials came on, which was often. Finally, got up at 3 am, finished the cup of licorice tea I'd started drinking at 1 pm (I was afraid of dehydration) and ate a few crackers, and went to sleep in my own room. Have no motivation to do anything at all now, maybe I'll get around to doing laundry. Briefly went to get a cup of coffee and return library books. Did a bit of writing.
Later, both washer and dryer have broken (washer leaking, dryer not turning.) I tested the washer with a small amount of water, and when it didn't leak too much, ran a wash anyway. Haven't done laundry in a while, and being sick, felt like it needed to be done. Have it hanging on a rack now, maybe it will dry by the end of the weekend. Stood around with a mop and tried to sop up the water. Surprisingly, landlord got back to me and said he'd stop by tonight. Fingers crossed.
It was a beautiful day out today. Ran errands, okay, errand: I went to the drugstore and bought ibuprofen and batteries; and looked at the sunset, also quite nice, while I walked back home. Now it's barely 5 pm and I want to go back to bed. I have very few thoughts rattling around my head. Just tired.
Later, both washer and dryer have broken (washer leaking, dryer not turning.) I tested the washer with a small amount of water, and when it didn't leak too much, ran a wash anyway. Haven't done laundry in a while, and being sick, felt like it needed to be done. Have it hanging on a rack now, maybe it will dry by the end of the weekend. Stood around with a mop and tried to sop up the water. Surprisingly, landlord got back to me and said he'd stop by tonight. Fingers crossed.
It was a beautiful day out today. Ran errands, okay, errand: I went to the drugstore and bought ibuprofen and batteries; and looked at the sunset, also quite nice, while I walked back home. Now it's barely 5 pm and I want to go back to bed. I have very few thoughts rattling around my head. Just tired.
Sunday, December 10, 2017
Sunday, waiting
Classing up the joint by finally hanging up artwork (oh, yeah, finally got around to making the Christmas swag, too.) I bought this watercolor picture of rhinos at at auction last year, and I wanted to put that up, so went to the the drugstore to buy some of those non-damaging hanger things, because my roommate raised the concern of lead on our walls. But after attaching the hangers to the wall, I realized the frame is not going to work with them, someone had attached a wire to one corner only, and I haven't figured out how to fix it, yet; it's a strange frame. I hung my own work up, instead. I'll probably do more, I have some time to kill before I have to go to work.
Anyway, I was going to buy those and then go to the Farmers' Market, but got side-tracked by looking at pretty rocks, and walking thru Whole Foods eating food samples; finally made it over two hours later. My day was pretty wide open, and luckily the market was still open when I got there. Spent the rest of the afternoon hanging art, and cooking random stuff from the fridge. (Made this Italian sausage, roasted brussel sprout, caramelized onion, pomegranate seed pasta thing...sounds weirder than it tasted.)
I was home too long, and feeling restless with a monkey brain, so went out and walked around the lake around 7 pm. It was the annual walk around the lake with the path lit with candles. I think it officially ended some time around 7, but there was still a jazz group playing, and managed to walk half the lake before there were no more lights. Lots of people. I like walking it at night, and needed the exercise. It felt safe enough, though I do have to say, while the candles are pretty, and mark the boundaries of the path, they don't really offer much by the way of illumination. (It reminded me, that the first time I ever walked the lake after dark, was in '91, on a pseudo date, at around 11 pm. It was pretty sketchy. It made me nervous, and my date said something to the effect, "Don't worry, I watched a Kung Fu movie earlier." Which I still think is funny. We didn't end up staying there all that long, and he didn't have to defend us from anyone.)
I think I'll take up running in the new year...running and tap dancing. (I need to get my ankles more stable first, and I need shoes.)
Anyway, I was going to buy those and then go to the Farmers' Market, but got side-tracked by looking at pretty rocks, and walking thru Whole Foods eating food samples; finally made it over two hours later. My day was pretty wide open, and luckily the market was still open when I got there. Spent the rest of the afternoon hanging art, and cooking random stuff from the fridge. (Made this Italian sausage, roasted brussel sprout, caramelized onion, pomegranate seed pasta thing...sounds weirder than it tasted.)
I was home too long, and feeling restless with a monkey brain, so went out and walked around the lake around 7 pm. It was the annual walk around the lake with the path lit with candles. I think it officially ended some time around 7, but there was still a jazz group playing, and managed to walk half the lake before there were no more lights. Lots of people. I like walking it at night, and needed the exercise. It felt safe enough, though I do have to say, while the candles are pretty, and mark the boundaries of the path, they don't really offer much by the way of illumination. (It reminded me, that the first time I ever walked the lake after dark, was in '91, on a pseudo date, at around 11 pm. It was pretty sketchy. It made me nervous, and my date said something to the effect, "Don't worry, I watched a Kung Fu movie earlier." Which I still think is funny. We didn't end up staying there all that long, and he didn't have to defend us from anyone.)
I think I'll take up running in the new year...running and tap dancing. (I need to get my ankles more stable first, and I need shoes.)
Wednesday, December 6, 2017
Back into my own life
Ended up passing up an audition (second one, actually) opportunity. It was sides, too, so if I'd had something I could've used a headshot, I would've done it. The other thing was since my computer died, and I somehow lost the back-up, I only managed to find an old resume, in an email, that needed updating. So, at least that's done now. I actually prefer sides for auditioning vs. a monologue, especially for new work; it gives you a sense of the material, and it lets them see you in context of the show that's being cast. My mom is paying for my TPS membership for the upcoming year (Christmas present), so I can see the audition listings again (I still see a few, but not many.) Headshots are just such a big chunk of change (and women usually have the additional cost of hair and make-up, on top of the photographer cost), I mean, you can take 8 weeks of theatre or dance classes for the same amount of money which would help your actual performance (not to mention eat, pay rent); but alas, you don't get the part without jumping through the hoops, and headshots are part of that. Pay to play.
I'll figure it out. I took the past year off, for the most part (I did a workshop, a monologue in a performance, and the video shoot) from acting to travel, and get better (health), and pay bills. Also, there have been a lot of singing commitments, but that's mostly over for a while. It's in my thoughts again, I want to get back to it.
I'm trying to reorganize my living space, only got to one small corner, but it's an improvement. I realized I've been living like I'm waiting for the next crisis and that even if I'm only here for one more day, it should still feel like a home. It hasn't, but at least I understand why. I've been crouched at the door ready to run out at a moment's notice for a long, long time, probably most of my life. Time to figure out how to turn the hyper-alert setting down, and breathe. Stay. Live.
I'll figure it out. I took the past year off, for the most part (I did a workshop, a monologue in a performance, and the video shoot) from acting to travel, and get better (health), and pay bills. Also, there have been a lot of singing commitments, but that's mostly over for a while. It's in my thoughts again, I want to get back to it.
I'm trying to reorganize my living space, only got to one small corner, but it's an improvement. I realized I've been living like I'm waiting for the next crisis and that even if I'm only here for one more day, it should still feel like a home. It hasn't, but at least I understand why. I've been crouched at the door ready to run out at a moment's notice for a long, long time, probably most of my life. Time to figure out how to turn the hyper-alert setting down, and breathe. Stay. Live.
Tuesday, December 5, 2017
Tuesday
For the record, I'm not mad. Just learning to value myself more than someone else, or the approval of someone else. Trying to figure out who I want to be right now, and where I want my life to go. What makes me myself, not anyone else.
Through no one else's fault, I've found that I tend to put everyone else first, and have been holding my breath so often on my own life, waiting for the right time, for something (relationship, job, weight to get carried by those responsible for it, ???) to happen before I live. And I want to stop doing that, it never arrives, I always find I'm waiting, and years pass by. (I'm not waiting for happiness, I already have that, I'm waiting for purpose, and what I contribute to the world. Where I fit in in the greater scheme of life.) It's not all the time, but it's too much of the time. A message buried so deep and ingrained in everything I do, that it's almost imperceptible, yet driving everything, every choice I make. I'm just suddenly very aware of it. I'm more aware of the time passing, that there are fewer years of life ahead of me than behind me, and what do I do with them?
Yeah, that's where I'm at.
Through no one else's fault, I've found that I tend to put everyone else first, and have been holding my breath so often on my own life, waiting for the right time, for something (relationship, job, weight to get carried by those responsible for it, ???) to happen before I live. And I want to stop doing that, it never arrives, I always find I'm waiting, and years pass by. (I'm not waiting for happiness, I already have that, I'm waiting for purpose, and what I contribute to the world. Where I fit in in the greater scheme of life.) It's not all the time, but it's too much of the time. A message buried so deep and ingrained in everything I do, that it's almost imperceptible, yet driving everything, every choice I make. I'm just suddenly very aware of it. I'm more aware of the time passing, that there are fewer years of life ahead of me than behind me, and what do I do with them?
Yeah, that's where I'm at.
Saturday, December 2, 2017
Later
After writing all that, I returned the book I wasn't enjoying, without finishing it. Why torture myself (and it was)? No good reason at all.
And I know those two points seemed contradictory, but in the first, it was about how pure someone has to be in order for us to accept the good work(s) they do/did. The chance to do better when we realize our errors: space for change, for grace. In the latter, open communication, even of doubt, to say you're walking away for a while, forever, to not be left fumbling in the dark by myself, would suffice.
Off to another gig.
(Sat around almost four hours for eight minutes of performance. Wish we'd gotten fed something besides carrot sticks and Cheetos.)
(Sat around almost four hours for eight minutes of performance. Wish we'd gotten fed something besides carrot sticks and Cheetos.)
Rainy Saturday
Went over to the market in the pouring rain to make holiday swag. Was much busier than I expected it to be, and while I was enjoying the atmosphere, the cheerful crowds, the music, etc., my hands were freezing and my jacket was soaked, so I grabbed some greens and wire, and walked briskly home. Now it's sitting on the porch drying off, and my clothes are in the wash. I want to add magnolia branches, but that will require putting shoes back on, so hasn't happened yet. It's really wet out. And chilly.
Was scrolling through email yesterday and a picture came up of a woman that looked familiar, but for some reason I couldn't place her. Later, I went to this artist talk (one that I thought would be interesting but which surprised me by leaving me super conflicted) and the same woman walked in late and sat behind me. We met 17 years ago (I figured out who she was, and when I thought about it, it makes sense she was in the photo, not sure why I didn't make the connection initially. I think she once sat on the board of the organization.) It's been years since we've crossed paths. We had an interesting friendship, love-hate at times. I didn't end up saying anything, wasn't sure if she remembered me, and I was feeling unsettled and wanted to get out of the room (not because of her, but something that happened during the talk.) People are complicated, we are never gonna find 100% "purity", so we have to live with the good someone has done in the world, even while accepting that they weren't necessarily perfect enough. We throw the baby out with the bathwater too often. We have to figure out how much uncertainty we can accept. The heroes and heroines don't always come easily recognizable on a white horse, but could still offer what is needed at the right time.
And to add to yesterday. I'm fine with me. I like my own company, I'm not looking for anyone to save me or complete me. I'm enough. I would love to have other company, people to share life, time, friendship, whatever, in a mutual respecting, loving way. Life is fleeting. Why would any of us spend what time and energy we have on a life and relationships that aren't fulfilling? What do we gain from that? How does it make our own lives, or the world a better place? If it can't be that, if we aren't reaching each other in mutual ways, if we don't enjoy one another's company, what's the point? (If you don't enjoy my company, you're under no obligation to be with me.) Until that time, I'm good with me. (There's a better existence than merely being tolerated or humored or kept on a long leash until something more promising comes along, not what's wanted in the end, but better than being alone, it's insulting really... and again, what's the point?)
Was scrolling through email yesterday and a picture came up of a woman that looked familiar, but for some reason I couldn't place her. Later, I went to this artist talk (one that I thought would be interesting but which surprised me by leaving me super conflicted) and the same woman walked in late and sat behind me. We met 17 years ago (I figured out who she was, and when I thought about it, it makes sense she was in the photo, not sure why I didn't make the connection initially. I think she once sat on the board of the organization.) It's been years since we've crossed paths. We had an interesting friendship, love-hate at times. I didn't end up saying anything, wasn't sure if she remembered me, and I was feeling unsettled and wanted to get out of the room (not because of her, but something that happened during the talk.) People are complicated, we are never gonna find 100% "purity", so we have to live with the good someone has done in the world, even while accepting that they weren't necessarily perfect enough. We throw the baby out with the bathwater too often. We have to figure out how much uncertainty we can accept. The heroes and heroines don't always come easily recognizable on a white horse, but could still offer what is needed at the right time.
And to add to yesterday. I'm fine with me. I like my own company, I'm not looking for anyone to save me or complete me. I'm enough. I would love to have other company, people to share life, time, friendship, whatever, in a mutual respecting, loving way. Life is fleeting. Why would any of us spend what time and energy we have on a life and relationships that aren't fulfilling? What do we gain from that? How does it make our own lives, or the world a better place? If it can't be that, if we aren't reaching each other in mutual ways, if we don't enjoy one another's company, what's the point? (If you don't enjoy my company, you're under no obligation to be with me.) Until that time, I'm good with me. (There's a better existence than merely being tolerated or humored or kept on a long leash until something more promising comes along, not what's wanted in the end, but better than being alone, it's insulting really... and again, what's the point?)
Friday, December 1, 2017
New month
Chilly and breezy to begin December. I'm trying to find moments to finish the books whenever I can, one is due sooner than I'd realized, and I'm not particularly enjoying it, but feel some sort of need to complete it, so it's one less thing undone. I like the subject matter (Do animals have feelings?) though not convinced by the writing. If I didn't believe it already, I wouldn't be sold, even if the stories themselves are interesting. Ditto the "Hidden Life of Trees;" I've heard much of this info elsewhere, and the writing style is not my cup of tea (jumps around, a little folksy for me), however, I'm glad it was written and that people are reading it, anything that helps people broaden their view of the world, our place in it, and helps to see that life has it's own worth apart from our ability to exploit it, is good a good thing. I'm preferring the other tree book (actually, more about ecosystems), even if the reality is depressing, the writing is solid. (I love the self-help book.)
My arm feels much better. I hope that lasts for a while.
Still feeling in limbo. (Or back in it, been that kinda' a year. There is no center, no certainty here. Things ending, not beginning yet. Saturn return, a 28-year cycle...is it real? I don't know. Did I suddenly find myself reviewing life events (more harassment, sexism memories coming up again, because of the news cycle), relationships (yeah, that's plural) from 27-29 years ago: yes, almost to the day. Bringing up a lot of memories to process, and what I want in life, trust issues, communication, love, boundaries, affection, touch, space (both allowing space in a life, and outside of one to be an individual), conversation, friendship, respect, choosing each other, seeing people for who they are now, and not just who they were then, who I wanted to be, who I wanted to see them as...we remain ourselves, I suppose, but 28 years of life is a lot, and everyone changes.) Trying to find peace in it, figure out what I'm learning about myself, my own reactions. That's good. For the moment, I'll learn as much as I can, but there are other ways to grow, so I'm not gonna stay here (limbo) forever. I can't do that anymore.
"We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." - Joseph Campbell
My arm feels much better. I hope that lasts for a while.
Still feeling in limbo. (Or back in it, been that kinda' a year. There is no center, no certainty here. Things ending, not beginning yet. Saturn return, a 28-year cycle...is it real? I don't know. Did I suddenly find myself reviewing life events (more harassment, sexism memories coming up again, because of the news cycle), relationships (yeah, that's plural) from 27-29 years ago: yes, almost to the day. Bringing up a lot of memories to process, and what I want in life, trust issues, communication, love, boundaries, affection, touch, space (both allowing space in a life, and outside of one to be an individual), conversation, friendship, respect, choosing each other, seeing people for who they are now, and not just who they were then, who I wanted to be, who I wanted to see them as...we remain ourselves, I suppose, but 28 years of life is a lot, and everyone changes.) Trying to find peace in it, figure out what I'm learning about myself, my own reactions. That's good. For the moment, I'll learn as much as I can, but there are other ways to grow, so I'm not gonna stay here (limbo) forever. I can't do that anymore.
"We must let go of the life we have planned so as to accept the one that is waiting for us." - Joseph Campbell
Mid-week
I went Downtown to pay a bill, then stayed to check out the gingerbread houses across from the Sheraton. Not ready to head home, I wandered the streets, window shopping, decoration watching.
I passed a photography class learning to pan their cameras on the holiday carousel. I admired the zebras, choose that horse as my favorite. Kids climbed the playground structures in the dark.
Further along, the Sequoia decorated at 4th and Virginia/Olive...is it lonely with no other trees to offer support, surrounded by cement and exhaust all day? Still, it remains festively lit up against the night sky. Perhaps oblivious to the traffic passing by.
I wanted to read. In a bar. So, I walked and walked through town, like Goldilocks, looking for just the right atmosphere, not too crowded, not too dark, not too fancy...but at 7 pm mid-week, in the Downtown core, not to be found.
I found myself once again in my old haunt, Belltown, near the old Freehold space, now for lease. Wandering up to a new place, unsure if it was actually open or not, and after standing outside trying to assess for a few moments, I pushed the door inward and entered. The bartender was just re-appearing behind the bar, I asked if it was open, it was. I looked for a table with enough light to read.
She brought me a bowl of Marcona almonds with my drink, after I asked if there was any food. I was trying to finish what I had, but then she brought me more, and I wondered if it would be wrong to put them in a container to take with me, so as not to waste them (I didn't.) It was a lot of almonds. I stayed for almost two hours, reading, and sometimes watching the customers replace each other as the evening passed, almost always choosing the same seats at the bar, so that three seats were used over and over, while the rest remained empty. I read a quarter of the book.
Cops on the street. Five squad cars for three people. We (the people on the street) watched until it resolved (some people recording it, just in case.) Further along, people lined up on the sidewalk waiting to get into a show; I waded my way through the crowd.
The flame burned behind the bus shelter, the one holding it oblivious to anyone that might be watching. Unsure what that was, but my bus pulled up to the curb just then. Home was quick. I found some clarity.
I woke up early. Wrote, showered. Reheated yesterday's coffee in the microwave and drank it, then left the house. I arrived at work a full 1/2 hour early.
I passed a photography class learning to pan their cameras on the holiday carousel. I admired the zebras, choose that horse as my favorite. Kids climbed the playground structures in the dark.
Further along, the Sequoia decorated at 4th and Virginia/Olive...is it lonely with no other trees to offer support, surrounded by cement and exhaust all day? Still, it remains festively lit up against the night sky. Perhaps oblivious to the traffic passing by.
I wanted to read. In a bar. So, I walked and walked through town, like Goldilocks, looking for just the right atmosphere, not too crowded, not too dark, not too fancy...but at 7 pm mid-week, in the Downtown core, not to be found.
I found myself once again in my old haunt, Belltown, near the old Freehold space, now for lease. Wandering up to a new place, unsure if it was actually open or not, and after standing outside trying to assess for a few moments, I pushed the door inward and entered. The bartender was just re-appearing behind the bar, I asked if it was open, it was. I looked for a table with enough light to read.
She brought me a bowl of Marcona almonds with my drink, after I asked if there was any food. I was trying to finish what I had, but then she brought me more, and I wondered if it would be wrong to put them in a container to take with me, so as not to waste them (I didn't.) It was a lot of almonds. I stayed for almost two hours, reading, and sometimes watching the customers replace each other as the evening passed, almost always choosing the same seats at the bar, so that three seats were used over and over, while the rest remained empty. I read a quarter of the book.
Cops on the street. Five squad cars for three people. We (the people on the street) watched until it resolved (some people recording it, just in case.) Further along, people lined up on the sidewalk waiting to get into a show; I waded my way through the crowd.
The flame burned behind the bus shelter, the one holding it oblivious to anyone that might be watching. Unsure what that was, but my bus pulled up to the curb just then. Home was quick. I found some clarity.
I woke up early. Wrote, showered. Reheated yesterday's coffee in the microwave and drank it, then left the house. I arrived at work a full 1/2 hour early.
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
Back to it
Back to the sobering reality of every-day life: everyone is dressed in practical black, ready for business. I've been feeling like I had too many days off, just feel like I won't remember how to come back; doesn't really make sense, but how I've been feeling. I don't tend to feel this way after vacations, I think not having a schedule of any kind threw me off. Guess I like a little bit of structure in my life.
In five days, the view to the sky has opened up more, like returning to some place I haven't quite been before, having to become reacquainted.
Earlier, I got a bit of a sucker punch. I later realized in might have in part been my own fault: my stress levels have been high, have been inundated with emails, and might not have responded the most important time, after responding to a request five or six times (over multiple sources of input) over the past few months...I lacked the attention span to read to the bottom of a longish email. Been happening a lot. I might have missed out regardless, but my lack of response didn't help. Sigh. (I can't keep track anymore, four months was a long time to follow a spec over multiple threads on multiple media. It was regarding a job lead.)
Feeling unsettled, in general. Not sure what it is I could do to change that. And I don't know where I want to be. I need to focus on something, but I feel like I'm being batted at from all sides, and maybe that's a distraction so that I don't end up doing anything at all, trying to get a clear view to see what's what. What to trust. Who to trust. Wanting to believe words, but not seeing clearly what lies behind them. And I'm all in for altruism, but it has been at the expense of helping everyone else move forward without my moving forward, and I think I need to find a better balance.
And then the moments of serenity and unexpected connection, for which I'm grateful for before sliding back into chaos.
A friend of mine passed along a book on the Spanish Civil War to me, because of Catalonia; he'd just read it for a book group. And I'm also reading two books about trees ("The Songs of Trees," by David George Haskell, and "The Hidden Life of TREES," by Peter Wohlleben), a book about animals also by Wohlleben, and a Co-Dependency book. The long-form writing actually helps with my attention span, so I get some break from my high-keyed state.
I should just get through every thing I possibly can do, probably cut back on the caffeine. (And take a another media fast: Humanity, you're leaving me heartbroken.)
In five days, the view to the sky has opened up more, like returning to some place I haven't quite been before, having to become reacquainted.
Earlier, I got a bit of a sucker punch. I later realized in might have in part been my own fault: my stress levels have been high, have been inundated with emails, and might not have responded the most important time, after responding to a request five or six times (over multiple sources of input) over the past few months...I lacked the attention span to read to the bottom of a longish email. Been happening a lot. I might have missed out regardless, but my lack of response didn't help. Sigh. (I can't keep track anymore, four months was a long time to follow a spec over multiple threads on multiple media. It was regarding a job lead.)
Feeling unsettled, in general. Not sure what it is I could do to change that. And I don't know where I want to be. I need to focus on something, but I feel like I'm being batted at from all sides, and maybe that's a distraction so that I don't end up doing anything at all, trying to get a clear view to see what's what. What to trust. Who to trust. Wanting to believe words, but not seeing clearly what lies behind them. And I'm all in for altruism, but it has been at the expense of helping everyone else move forward without my moving forward, and I think I need to find a better balance.
And then the moments of serenity and unexpected connection, for which I'm grateful for before sliding back into chaos.
A friend of mine passed along a book on the Spanish Civil War to me, because of Catalonia; he'd just read it for a book group. And I'm also reading two books about trees ("The Songs of Trees," by David George Haskell, and "The Hidden Life of TREES," by Peter Wohlleben), a book about animals also by Wohlleben, and a Co-Dependency book. The long-form writing actually helps with my attention span, so I get some break from my high-keyed state.
I should just get through every thing I possibly can do, probably cut back on the caffeine. (And take a another media fast: Humanity, you're leaving me heartbroken.)
Thursday, November 23, 2017
On Thanksgiving
When I was caught in the torrential rain, I was/am thankful that my destination kept me sheltered from the storms. Thankful for the electricity and heating. Thankful for a stove and the ability to easily prepare food for myself. Thankful for my job. Thankful for the cheerful messages written on the coffee cups this morning, by people who had to work this morning instead of being home. Thankful for the choirs that I sing in, for the community, the music, and experiences being a part of them has brought into my life. Thankful for the daily proximity to nature. Thankful for my garden, for the creatures that live there, for the chance to get my hands in the dirt. Thankful for my education, and the twisted path that has taken. Thankful for art in my life. Thankful for music. For music and stillness and touch when words are not enough. Thankful for my family, and my childhood friends. Thankful for all the people in my life, for those who have offered unconditional love, and for those who have offered challenges; the first because they believed in me and gave me courage, and helped me to love myself, and the latter because they helped me to grow and be a better version of myself. I'm thankful for the privilege to travel, and for the community that has come into my life from that. I'm thankful for the rain, and sunlight, and snow. Thankful for the seasons, and the migrations of birds. Thankful for trees and water and sky. Thankful for all the strangers (and friends) that have taken me in, for shelter, for celebrations, for support. Thankful for all the friends i have now. I'm thankful for 2nd, 3rd, 4th chances, thankful for the effort. And I'm thankful for being alive now, in this moment in time.
Wednesday, November 22, 2017
Maybe it's the prednisone
I just had this random memory pop up from my sophomore year of high school. I guess the recent passing of Malcolm Young of AC/DC made me think of the song "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" which made me think of my friend's little brother who really liked the song. And then I remembered doing something stupid one afternoon after coming home from school which resulted in my cutting my arm open in three places, and since no one was home at my house, somehow going to the neighbor's across the street with my arms bleeding. It was just my classmate, and her younger brother and his friends (one of whom was my other friend's brother) home at the time. They let me in, and I think it was my classmate who took care of me. But the junior high boys were standing around me, probably a little bit of "Carrie" fascination going on, but I think they were also generally concerned. Someone got ahold of one of my parents, or someone, because I had to go to the hospital and get stitches. And I got yelled at for the dumb thing that I did (even if I had a good reason for doing it, it was admittedly the wrong choice: I broke something, that then cut me.) My family's first reaction at the time tended toward yelling, "Why did you do that?" rather than asking how I was. Maybe that was a stress reaction. I imagine they cared on some level, I suppose they had a hard time showing that in a way I could understand. (Now I would say we had different love languages. And I understand why I got yelled at, I deserved it, but I also needed the spoken or demonstrated concern for my well being, in a way I could see.)
Anyway, I had just walked into the bathroom when I remembered this, and burst out crying for some reason, my face was soaked. And I had to stay in there until I stopped and could wipe it with my hands, since I didn't have a towel with me, and I didn't want to freak out my housemate as a sobbing mess. It was the memory of the junior high kids giving a damn, but even more so, I had friend, and we'd been friends since we were three years old, and I was over at her house a lot, but her father pretty much kept to himself; I don't think in all those years he'd even said a full sentence to me. He checked up on me that evening to make sure I was okay. Yeah, that thought of his concern is still making me cry. He passed away some years ago.
The next day, I went to school with bandages on my arms. After PE, one of my friends made a half-assed rumor/joke that I'd tried to commit suicide. The other girls chided me, not in an unkind way, "Liz, why you wanna' kill yourself." I may have been depressed in 10th grade, but I wasn't suicidal. Just did dumb shit at times.
And I'm fine, I was having a pretty good day today. Not sure why I'm remembering that.
Anyway, I had just walked into the bathroom when I remembered this, and burst out crying for some reason, my face was soaked. And I had to stay in there until I stopped and could wipe it with my hands, since I didn't have a towel with me, and I didn't want to freak out my housemate as a sobbing mess. It was the memory of the junior high kids giving a damn, but even more so, I had friend, and we'd been friends since we were three years old, and I was over at her house a lot, but her father pretty much kept to himself; I don't think in all those years he'd even said a full sentence to me. He checked up on me that evening to make sure I was okay. Yeah, that thought of his concern is still making me cry. He passed away some years ago.
The next day, I went to school with bandages on my arms. After PE, one of my friends made a half-assed rumor/joke that I'd tried to commit suicide. The other girls chided me, not in an unkind way, "Liz, why you wanna' kill yourself." I may have been depressed in 10th grade, but I wasn't suicidal. Just did dumb shit at times.
And I'm fine, I was having a pretty good day today. Not sure why I'm remembering that.
Day off
Another decadent weekday off. Made a list of things I should do at some point, but there is a beauty in the idea that I don't have to accomplish any of them today. I thought earlier that I would anyway, but it's already after 3 pm, and I've added stuff to the list, just so that I can check them off. It's funny too, how usually it's just one or two things that are important to get done, but I'll pad the list out with "Take Vitamins," "Go for Walk," which I will then proceed to do, just so I can feel like I did something, when what I really need to do is "Make Phone Call," or "Send Email Reply." I waited too long to get around to "Do Laundry," but snuck in between someone else's...didn't realize he was actually home. It's all figured out now.
Ducked into the library just as it was starting to rain again, got a walk in between showers. The clouds are moving swiftly, so the rain doesn't last all that long. Thumbed through cookbooks while I waited for it to pass, then went and ate comfort food (i.e., Mexican...actually, second time today.) And was blinded by the sunlight glaring off of the wet pavement as I finally made my way back home. It was balmy, almost 70 degrees this afternoon, which is ridiculous for late November.
I need to make something for a Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to. Said I'd make cranberry sauce and a pie, might make a cauliflower thing, too, but kinda' depends on how bad the weather is, and what buses are running tomorrow. It's supposed to rain.
Out of my window I can see a bunch of white birds circling the sky, when they catch the sun, they glow like glittering lights against the dark clouds, slowly drifting to the east, until they are out of sight.
Went to a play last night, a PWYC night at Seattle Rep. It was sold out when I got there, but they still sold me a Standing Room Only ticket, said it was the last one. I got to sit in the end. It was "The Humans" by Stephen Karam, basically centered around a family's Thanksgiving dinner, dysfunctional, but relatable in that dysfunction (which was obvious in the laughter, tears, and at least one time, shout, from the audience.) About the choices we make to survive, to get by, to cope, and how a single decision can drastically, and in this case irreversibly, destroy the future you had planned for. The more I reflect on it, the more I like it. The casting was outstanding as well. It was wonderful, and really sad.
When the play got out, the rain was just dumping down. It rained so hard that Mercer St. pretty much flooded from Warren Ave N to 5th Ave. 5th and Mercer was a lake. I ducked into the QFC (grocery store) to grab a sandwich, and on my way back out, three clerks were standing under the awning outside, watching the SUVs throw up walls of water as they drove through the intersection. Surprisingly, was not flooded at the bottom of the hill, but my clothing was all still wet this afternoon, hence, the laundry.
I'm gonna check the laundry, and get some writing in.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Ducked into the library just as it was starting to rain again, got a walk in between showers. The clouds are moving swiftly, so the rain doesn't last all that long. Thumbed through cookbooks while I waited for it to pass, then went and ate comfort food (i.e., Mexican...actually, second time today.) And was blinded by the sunlight glaring off of the wet pavement as I finally made my way back home. It was balmy, almost 70 degrees this afternoon, which is ridiculous for late November.
I need to make something for a Thanksgiving dinner I'm going to. Said I'd make cranberry sauce and a pie, might make a cauliflower thing, too, but kinda' depends on how bad the weather is, and what buses are running tomorrow. It's supposed to rain.
Out of my window I can see a bunch of white birds circling the sky, when they catch the sun, they glow like glittering lights against the dark clouds, slowly drifting to the east, until they are out of sight.
Went to a play last night, a PWYC night at Seattle Rep. It was sold out when I got there, but they still sold me a Standing Room Only ticket, said it was the last one. I got to sit in the end. It was "The Humans" by Stephen Karam, basically centered around a family's Thanksgiving dinner, dysfunctional, but relatable in that dysfunction (which was obvious in the laughter, tears, and at least one time, shout, from the audience.) About the choices we make to survive, to get by, to cope, and how a single decision can drastically, and in this case irreversibly, destroy the future you had planned for. The more I reflect on it, the more I like it. The casting was outstanding as well. It was wonderful, and really sad.
When the play got out, the rain was just dumping down. It rained so hard that Mercer St. pretty much flooded from Warren Ave N to 5th Ave. 5th and Mercer was a lake. I ducked into the QFC (grocery store) to grab a sandwich, and on my way back out, three clerks were standing under the awning outside, watching the SUVs throw up walls of water as they drove through the intersection. Surprisingly, was not flooded at the bottom of the hill, but my clothing was all still wet this afternoon, hence, the laundry.
I'm gonna check the laundry, and get some writing in.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Tuesday, November 21, 2017
To stem the inertia
The bright lights make the morning seem darker than in actually is. We are in the season of darkness and water. So much water, the sky wrings itself out.
I've just started prednisone again, and I feel weird. My doctor spent an hour with me, trying to get me to come in and get a drug infusion to calm the inflammation, but in the end, agreed to let me go back on prednisone and anti-malarial drugs. She also gave me a shot in the hand the other doctor said wouldn't help. Does it help? I don't know. I can't tell yet, over the weekend it hurt more, but maybe it's less swollen. Doing nothing hasn't really been helping. Constant pain becomes a bit of a background noise, because you have to go on living, but that doesn't mean learning to live with it is the only option. There's not really a point in being a martyr.
I figured out the notebook thing, but then had some deep experiences last week that seem more important than anything else I could say, and haven't figured out how to talk about them, or if I did, how much to. (And I feel like we have to fight all the time just to keep things from getting worse. More people are waking up to injustice; and many people are taking a deep look at themselves and seeing where they are part of the problem, and that's hopeful, but we continue to slide backward.)
Sometimes I feel like nothing changes, like I never do anything, but then I've also had really deep shifts this year: a couple of profound (one kinda' painful, one not) moments in Spain about identity/status/judgment; and more recently about settling and accepting the scraps others are willing to offer, and why I (or anyone) should believe that's all we are worth, and why we don't reject it outright. Do we believe it's the best we will ever get? I'm glad I've been experiencing all of this. It opens my eyes (and my heart) to my own life, but also to what others have been experiencing. My life (and yours, by extension) has as much worth as anyone else's; so why am I expected to be ecstatic for the crumbs, that the one offering would never put up with? (Related to privilege, too, so when we become aware of our own, how do we change?)
I am grateful for all I'm learning about myself. I'm grateful for the exposure of my tender spots that I'd been protecting so fiercely I'd forgotten they were still there, for knowing they still need love and attention. I'm grateful for seeing my own shortcomings, for the opportunity to grow.
And if we want there to be change in the world, whether larger or immediate, we have to be willing to change as well, to give something up (ideas, fears, privilege, inertia, safety of the familiar, the past, nostalgia) and create the space for new things to enter and take root. Love is action. Words and promises are meaningless until we back them up.
I've just started prednisone again, and I feel weird. My doctor spent an hour with me, trying to get me to come in and get a drug infusion to calm the inflammation, but in the end, agreed to let me go back on prednisone and anti-malarial drugs. She also gave me a shot in the hand the other doctor said wouldn't help. Does it help? I don't know. I can't tell yet, over the weekend it hurt more, but maybe it's less swollen. Doing nothing hasn't really been helping. Constant pain becomes a bit of a background noise, because you have to go on living, but that doesn't mean learning to live with it is the only option. There's not really a point in being a martyr.
I figured out the notebook thing, but then had some deep experiences last week that seem more important than anything else I could say, and haven't figured out how to talk about them, or if I did, how much to. (And I feel like we have to fight all the time just to keep things from getting worse. More people are waking up to injustice; and many people are taking a deep look at themselves and seeing where they are part of the problem, and that's hopeful, but we continue to slide backward.)
Sometimes I feel like nothing changes, like I never do anything, but then I've also had really deep shifts this year: a couple of profound (one kinda' painful, one not) moments in Spain about identity/status/judgment; and more recently about settling and accepting the scraps others are willing to offer, and why I (or anyone) should believe that's all we are worth, and why we don't reject it outright. Do we believe it's the best we will ever get? I'm glad I've been experiencing all of this. It opens my eyes (and my heart) to my own life, but also to what others have been experiencing. My life (and yours, by extension) has as much worth as anyone else's; so why am I expected to be ecstatic for the crumbs, that the one offering would never put up with? (Related to privilege, too, so when we become aware of our own, how do we change?)
I am grateful for all I'm learning about myself. I'm grateful for the exposure of my tender spots that I'd been protecting so fiercely I'd forgotten they were still there, for knowing they still need love and attention. I'm grateful for seeing my own shortcomings, for the opportunity to grow.
And if we want there to be change in the world, whether larger or immediate, we have to be willing to change as well, to give something up (ideas, fears, privilege, inertia, safety of the familiar, the past, nostalgia) and create the space for new things to enter and take root. Love is action. Words and promises are meaningless until we back them up.
Monday, November 6, 2017
Monday
Had recently been thinking that I don't get as many headaches as I used to, only to wake up this morning with splitting pain. Drank three glasses of water, and found a stray ibuprofen to take and that kept it at bay, but now it's returning. Sigh. Wasn't sure if it was dehydration or my sinuses, or a combination. I hardly drank anything yesterday, I need to find new ways to change that; I drink enough on work days, but not so much on weekends. (Also, house is probably dusty from furnace being back on.) It did get me out of the house early (just after 6:30 am, to go buy coffee and sit some place without dust) and consequently, early to work.
Got concealer on the skirt (had a very clumsy morning on Saturday, dropping things left and right), and was supposed to return it today, but have finally managed to muster the courage to tell the shop about the stain, and ask what I should do about it. I'm leaning toward taking it to the cleaners, it's acetate, and while I did finally get the make-up out, it created another stain in the process. I haven't heard back, yet.
The concert was a kick! It was fun to be on that stage, even with half a house, I think the people there enjoyed it. We sat in the house for the first half, and it sounded great. The whole experience was fun, the rehearsal, the professionalism of the hall staff, the decent bathrooms and changing spaces, the staff calling the entrances, etc., so that all we had to worry about was following someone else's directions, and then going out there and performing. That was awesome. A friend of mine came, too, and that made me happy. (Joining this choir has opened up a lot of cool experiences: the Finland tour (and everything that was a part of that), singing at Folklife, and while this is the second time we've sung at Benaroya, it's the first time we've sung from the stage, and in general, we have a lot of public performances, which has made me braver. And made me a better singer than I was.)
It snowed on Friday (which is super early in the season for us) and then again on Sunday, though it didn't stick either time. Just suddenly cold; the previous weekend it had been almost 70 degrees. It hardly ever snows here, so had to keep going out to walk in it while I could. Now it's sunny and bright blue out.
Oh, yeah, and my computer finally died (for good, I think) on Saturday. I have a notebook, but can't recall how to get the keyboard to sync, so won't be writing as much. Will not be able to waste so much time on youtube or trying to win at Spider Solitaire (what I do when I'm stressed out and procrastinating.) Guess I can work on other projects, and deal with stuff instead of putting it off.
Time for new things. Say "yes."
(She ended up being cool about the stain. Told me to drop off the skirt, as they were sending other clothes over to the dry cleaners. Not everyone is a tyrant, after all. Even if I do live in fear of them. Even if I am blindsided, I have to act at some point, regardless. Deal with the aftermath in exchange for actually getting on with my life and taking a chance; the only other option is stagnation.)
Got concealer on the skirt (had a very clumsy morning on Saturday, dropping things left and right), and was supposed to return it today, but have finally managed to muster the courage to tell the shop about the stain, and ask what I should do about it. I'm leaning toward taking it to the cleaners, it's acetate, and while I did finally get the make-up out, it created another stain in the process. I haven't heard back, yet.
The concert was a kick! It was fun to be on that stage, even with half a house, I think the people there enjoyed it. We sat in the house for the first half, and it sounded great. The whole experience was fun, the rehearsal, the professionalism of the hall staff, the decent bathrooms and changing spaces, the staff calling the entrances, etc., so that all we had to worry about was following someone else's directions, and then going out there and performing. That was awesome. A friend of mine came, too, and that made me happy. (Joining this choir has opened up a lot of cool experiences: the Finland tour (and everything that was a part of that), singing at Folklife, and while this is the second time we've sung at Benaroya, it's the first time we've sung from the stage, and in general, we have a lot of public performances, which has made me braver. And made me a better singer than I was.)
It snowed on Friday (which is super early in the season for us) and then again on Sunday, though it didn't stick either time. Just suddenly cold; the previous weekend it had been almost 70 degrees. It hardly ever snows here, so had to keep going out to walk in it while I could. Now it's sunny and bright blue out.
Oh, yeah, and my computer finally died (for good, I think) on Saturday. I have a notebook, but can't recall how to get the keyboard to sync, so won't be writing as much. Will not be able to waste so much time on youtube or trying to win at Spider Solitaire (what I do when I'm stressed out and procrastinating.) Guess I can work on other projects, and deal with stuff instead of putting it off.
Time for new things. Say "yes."
(She ended up being cool about the stain. Told me to drop off the skirt, as they were sending other clothes over to the dry cleaners. Not everyone is a tyrant, after all. Even if I do live in fear of them. Even if I am blindsided, I have to act at some point, regardless. Deal with the aftermath in exchange for actually getting on with my life and taking a chance; the only other option is stagnation.)
Tuesday, October 31, 2017
Halloween
Went to go get someone a cup of coffee while he waited for a meeting, to find a spider hanging out under where the cup goes. I had to point it out to someone, because it's Halloween and all, (and that never happens), and then caught it and put it outside, in the sun. I looked back at it, waving it's little spider legs at me, probably the equivalent of waving its spider fist at me, or flipping me off: the coffee pot was nice and warm, and there was frost outside this morning. (It'll probably find it's way back in.)
Thought about dressing up as a bat, but woke up late, and it was enough to get out of the house on time. The bus was overly crowded, either a bus was late, or it's mid-terms and students are attending class today. A few people dressed up, most memorable of those was a man dressed up as a slice of pepperoni pizza. I was sitting at the counter eating breakfast at the Sunlight cafe on Sunday, when a little girl a couple of stools over announced in exasperated seriousness that there should be at least two weeks holiday for Halloween. Everyone chuckled. Ah, just dress up every day anyway.
I have rehearsal tonight, so won't see any of the trick-or-treaters, if we get any. Keep thinking after Saturday, we'll get a break, but no break really until after Christmas, performances left and right. We really only have one gig in the spring. We had the option of taking next Monday off, but I'm opting to go to rehearsal even though I'd like a break, because we have a big gig on the following weekend, and though we know the music, we haven't rehearsed it much this year, due to all the other gigs.
I'm exhausted, and my stomach has been killing me for the past week. Pretty much only feel better by walking or curling up in the fetal position. Have been eating oddly for the past week, so, that's part of it. Not been home long enough to cook my own food, well, okay, choosing to sleep over cooking.
I was telling a friend that I didn't have clothes for the concert, and she hooked me up with a costume department, I'm going there later today, to see if they have a skirt or dress pants in black. I'm in the front, but I'm hoping the orchestra is actually on the same level and blocking me a bit: I don't really have the right shoes either, but I'm not gonna worry about that.
Think I'll go walk to the store and buy some Halloween candy; the sun's out and I can't sit still here any more.
Happy Anniversary to my parents!
Thought about dressing up as a bat, but woke up late, and it was enough to get out of the house on time. The bus was overly crowded, either a bus was late, or it's mid-terms and students are attending class today. A few people dressed up, most memorable of those was a man dressed up as a slice of pepperoni pizza. I was sitting at the counter eating breakfast at the Sunlight cafe on Sunday, when a little girl a couple of stools over announced in exasperated seriousness that there should be at least two weeks holiday for Halloween. Everyone chuckled. Ah, just dress up every day anyway.
I have rehearsal tonight, so won't see any of the trick-or-treaters, if we get any. Keep thinking after Saturday, we'll get a break, but no break really until after Christmas, performances left and right. We really only have one gig in the spring. We had the option of taking next Monday off, but I'm opting to go to rehearsal even though I'd like a break, because we have a big gig on the following weekend, and though we know the music, we haven't rehearsed it much this year, due to all the other gigs.
I'm exhausted, and my stomach has been killing me for the past week. Pretty much only feel better by walking or curling up in the fetal position. Have been eating oddly for the past week, so, that's part of it. Not been home long enough to cook my own food, well, okay, choosing to sleep over cooking.
I was telling a friend that I didn't have clothes for the concert, and she hooked me up with a costume department, I'm going there later today, to see if they have a skirt or dress pants in black. I'm in the front, but I'm hoping the orchestra is actually on the same level and blocking me a bit: I don't really have the right shoes either, but I'm not gonna worry about that.
Think I'll go walk to the store and buy some Halloween candy; the sun's out and I can't sit still here any more.
Happy Anniversary to my parents!
Tuesday, October 24, 2017
Day off
Woke up to a glorious morning of not having to get up early, been wanting to sleep in for a while now, looking forward to it. Still, got up and walked over to the newly re-opened coffee shop down the street to write for a while, and then ate breakfast as well, so that I could read more of the therapy book: I really want to do the work.
I took the day off because I needed a day of good weather to clean up the garden, almost noon, and have yet to go over, but will. They have to be ready for winter by the end of the month. And it will be nice to spend part of the day outside.
Went to this "welcome home" potluck last night, for people who'd volunteered or walked/cycled, etc., in Spain over the past year. Our table connected so well that we pretty much got kicked out at the end of the evening, because we were all still so engaged in conversation. Got a ride home, too. It's funny, there was a list of questions at every table to guide conversation, but as I said to someone in the car, you get kinda' use to opening up and connecting with strangers while traveling, that in a group of people who experienced the same thing, it's easy to fall back into the groove.
And part of the writing this morning was still trying to process the month in Spain, last spring. It was a little over a year ago that I felt the push/direction to go back. And since it felt so certain at the time, I still am trying to figure out why that felt so urgent, what happened there that I needed to experience? Maybe it hasn't entirely played out yet. There was that whole lack of status thing, which is part of it, I think. And because I spent so much time alone during that month, I wrote a lot, which is something I wanted to do. And yet, for months I've had a block about processing it, or even looking at what I wrote. Not sure why. Maybe I just need a framework, a narrative arc. I had a long conversation about it with a friend over the weekend (because she asked), and with the woman sitting next to me last night, but have yet to be able to share anything with my family, really, and I'd like to. It's just hard to explain, everyone that's gone and done it understands, book after book people come to the same conclusions...this is part of the reason for the potluck, to have someone else to process with. In some ways, nothing at all happened on this trip (and in that nothingness, something also life-shifting), and yet, it's harder to talk about than all the other ones. Curious, that.
I took the day off because I needed a day of good weather to clean up the garden, almost noon, and have yet to go over, but will. They have to be ready for winter by the end of the month. And it will be nice to spend part of the day outside.
Went to this "welcome home" potluck last night, for people who'd volunteered or walked/cycled, etc., in Spain over the past year. Our table connected so well that we pretty much got kicked out at the end of the evening, because we were all still so engaged in conversation. Got a ride home, too. It's funny, there was a list of questions at every table to guide conversation, but as I said to someone in the car, you get kinda' use to opening up and connecting with strangers while traveling, that in a group of people who experienced the same thing, it's easy to fall back into the groove.
And part of the writing this morning was still trying to process the month in Spain, last spring. It was a little over a year ago that I felt the push/direction to go back. And since it felt so certain at the time, I still am trying to figure out why that felt so urgent, what happened there that I needed to experience? Maybe it hasn't entirely played out yet. There was that whole lack of status thing, which is part of it, I think. And because I spent so much time alone during that month, I wrote a lot, which is something I wanted to do. And yet, for months I've had a block about processing it, or even looking at what I wrote. Not sure why. Maybe I just need a framework, a narrative arc. I had a long conversation about it with a friend over the weekend (because she asked), and with the woman sitting next to me last night, but have yet to be able to share anything with my family, really, and I'd like to. It's just hard to explain, everyone that's gone and done it understands, book after book people come to the same conclusions...this is part of the reason for the potluck, to have someone else to process with. In some ways, nothing at all happened on this trip (and in that nothingness, something also life-shifting), and yet, it's harder to talk about than all the other ones. Curious, that.
Wednesday, October 18, 2017
Wednesday
I know my situations are not extreme, (though the kissing things were kinda' terrifying, as they happened in deserted places, with no real escape. For the first one, I somehow got away from, the second, I started beating with a walking stick I was carrying until he let go, because he had gripped my arm and had started to pull me down the road. I was backpacking, so it was easy to throw off my balance with the pack weight.) But that's the thing, how many of these happen every day that people brush off, and what does the accumulation of them do to you? Who do you tell? What do you tell? And at what point has it escalated to a point where it's considered legitimate? That people believe you? That anyone takes you seriously, and doesn't tell you you should see it as some sort of compliment? (The first two people I told said the second man was harmless, only kissed them on the cheek. Didn't feel harmless to me when he was trying to drag me down the road.)
How does it affect your ability to trust others? Trust yourself? Set boundaries, know that it is your right to? To take care of yourself over considering how your response to the unwanted advance makes the perpetrator feel, essentially giving their behavior more legitimacy than your own right to decide what is and is not acceptable to you? Because you've been taught to take care of everyone else, even if someone else is harming you; because to stand up for yourself might make them "feel bad." And at what point did you capitulate to protect your own safety, whether that be actual survival, or to not be socially isolated (because for all the bravado, it's a hard choice to be a social outcast)?
Been feeling triggered all day. Crying, out of memory, and out of gratitude to the man that believed me. That validated my experience. That gave it a name, said that it was wrong and that he was sorry I had experienced it. Gave me a way out of the nebulous void I'd been stuck in.
Unexpectedly, got to play with a puppy for a while yesterday afternoon, which was good.
And I have a lot of good people in my life. Am grateful for all of them.
These things help, but, so many people re-living now, what they never should've had to experience at all. The abuse needs to end.
How does it affect your ability to trust others? Trust yourself? Set boundaries, know that it is your right to? To take care of yourself over considering how your response to the unwanted advance makes the perpetrator feel, essentially giving their behavior more legitimacy than your own right to decide what is and is not acceptable to you? Because you've been taught to take care of everyone else, even if someone else is harming you; because to stand up for yourself might make them "feel bad." And at what point did you capitulate to protect your own safety, whether that be actual survival, or to not be socially isolated (because for all the bravado, it's a hard choice to be a social outcast)?
Been feeling triggered all day. Crying, out of memory, and out of gratitude to the man that believed me. That validated my experience. That gave it a name, said that it was wrong and that he was sorry I had experienced it. Gave me a way out of the nebulous void I'd been stuck in.
Unexpectedly, got to play with a puppy for a while yesterday afternoon, which was good.
And I have a lot of good people in my life. Am grateful for all of them.
These things help, but, so many people re-living now, what they never should've had to experience at all. The abuse needs to end.
Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Me too
This conversation was taking place in the early 90's ("No means No" "I didn't call it rape."), and I imagine it's happened in various places, communities, and times over the years. I applaud those who have tried to begin the conversation, but right now we have the convergence of awareness and platform to do something about it, and we should run with it, and not shut each other down with finger pointing and who has it worse, and who has been more aware, and who said it first. This (toxic masculinity, status quo, abuse, harassment) needs to stop. Now. With us.
(Not including everything, and not including harassment and discrimination, which are sadly ubiquitous):
My first memory of what I will call a "sexually-motivated" assault I was 14. It was a physical "roughing up" because I didn't like someone who liked me and he wasn't okay with it. (He wanted to know why I liked some other guy more than him. I answered it honestly. An instance of non-ambiguity, but he punished me for it.) He yanked my arm and flung me around back and forth, finally letting go so that I fell and slid across the wet grass, staining my pants. As far as I can remember, he walked away after. It made my arm hurt. My friends were there, but I don't think they understood what had happened. I didn't talk about it, I hated him after that, and we ran in the same circles, so I had to be around him a lot. I witnessed other anger issues with him. I wrote a short story about the incident that my teacher wanted to publish, but I chickened out, afraid of backlash, afraid no one would believe me. He was more popular than I was. I later regretted not publishing it.
The second one was in high school, in my car, someone who had been my friend for a long time, who asked for a ride home. More of a creepy mauling session. I told two friends about it later, never spoke to him again.
Post-college, a friend I had a crush on, hit on me at a party, and mind you, I would have slept with him under better circumstances (consensual, non-forced, not in the dirt), however it got scary, aggressive, rough, really fast, and he forcibly shoved me down into the dirt. The only reason it didn't progress to rape was he had to get off of me to vomit (drunk), and another man had been looking for me and showed up at that point, I got up and ran away. I told my friends. (I somehow repressed this one, and remembered it during the election.)
My first time in Spain, in 2005, I was forcibly grabbed and kissed on the mouth two times (by two different men, both times, there was no one else around), and then fondled by a third; all on the same day. It freaked me out, and pissed me off, because I wanted to travel alone, and I no longer felt safe. (It also pisses me off that I get discounted on the forums for mentioning it.)
I haven't really talked about it because of not wanting to deal with the emotional backlash, that I had asked for it, that it didn't qualify as assault. Broken trust and ensuing harassment. It wasn't until recently, when I mentioned the kissing thing, that a man on a forum told me that it was sexual assault, gave me a permission to give the experience a name. To let go of the shame that I "asked for it" (especially the car and the party incidences, yeah, I had ambiguity-in the car, I just tried to endure it), to give myself the permission to say "No." I don't think I believed that I could (for a whole host of complicated reasons that I'm still dealing with, I didn't own my own sexuality/body, and I thought I had to give in or I was forever a prude. I was confused about what was and was not okay. It was uncharted territory, no guidance, no map.)
(Not including everything, and not including harassment and discrimination, which are sadly ubiquitous):
My first memory of what I will call a "sexually-motivated" assault I was 14. It was a physical "roughing up" because I didn't like someone who liked me and he wasn't okay with it. (He wanted to know why I liked some other guy more than him. I answered it honestly. An instance of non-ambiguity, but he punished me for it.) He yanked my arm and flung me around back and forth, finally letting go so that I fell and slid across the wet grass, staining my pants. As far as I can remember, he walked away after. It made my arm hurt. My friends were there, but I don't think they understood what had happened. I didn't talk about it, I hated him after that, and we ran in the same circles, so I had to be around him a lot. I witnessed other anger issues with him. I wrote a short story about the incident that my teacher wanted to publish, but I chickened out, afraid of backlash, afraid no one would believe me. He was more popular than I was. I later regretted not publishing it.
The second one was in high school, in my car, someone who had been my friend for a long time, who asked for a ride home. More of a creepy mauling session. I told two friends about it later, never spoke to him again.
Post-college, a friend I had a crush on, hit on me at a party, and mind you, I would have slept with him under better circumstances (consensual, non-forced, not in the dirt), however it got scary, aggressive, rough, really fast, and he forcibly shoved me down into the dirt. The only reason it didn't progress to rape was he had to get off of me to vomit (drunk), and another man had been looking for me and showed up at that point, I got up and ran away. I told my friends. (I somehow repressed this one, and remembered it during the election.)
My first time in Spain, in 2005, I was forcibly grabbed and kissed on the mouth two times (by two different men, both times, there was no one else around), and then fondled by a third; all on the same day. It freaked me out, and pissed me off, because I wanted to travel alone, and I no longer felt safe. (It also pisses me off that I get discounted on the forums for mentioning it.)
I haven't really talked about it because of not wanting to deal with the emotional backlash, that I had asked for it, that it didn't qualify as assault. Broken trust and ensuing harassment. It wasn't until recently, when I mentioned the kissing thing, that a man on a forum told me that it was sexual assault, gave me a permission to give the experience a name. To let go of the shame that I "asked for it" (especially the car and the party incidences, yeah, I had ambiguity-in the car, I just tried to endure it), to give myself the permission to say "No." I don't think I believed that I could (for a whole host of complicated reasons that I'm still dealing with, I didn't own my own sexuality/body, and I thought I had to give in or I was forever a prude. I was confused about what was and was not okay. It was uncharted territory, no guidance, no map.)
Thursday, October 12, 2017
Inner courage
I wrote this in a notebook recently, not sure where I originally found it:
In general, I agree with the sentiment. Someone suggested a book in this on-line support group, and so I'm examining dark, abandoned corners, hoping to change. It's those patterns that got programmed young, but now how I automatically respond or act. The things that probably had their place at one time, but have become constricting and detrimental over time. I'd like to not always be making my own life harder than it needs to be. I'd like to get out of my own way. I'd like to occupy space (to go back to what I kept being told in Meisner, but am understanding more. Or to quote Kate Winslet's character in that Christmas movie, I'd like to be the leading lady of my own life, and not the support player.)
Wish me the humility and courage to walk through it.
"Let mystery have its place in you; do not be always turning up your whole soil with the plowshare of self-examination, but leave a little fallow corner of your heart ready for any seed the winds may bring, and reserve a nook of shadow for the passing bird; keep a place in your heart for the unexpected guests, an altar for an unknown God."
- From Amiel's journal, translated by Mrs. Humphrey Ward.
 |
| Dreamscape/L Herlevi 2009 |
Wish me the humility and courage to walk through it.
Wednesday, October 11, 2017
Throwback
I saw the movie Tootsie when it came out in theatres. I imagine I didn't get a lot out of it, I was a kid, in a small town, with not a lot to do, and we went to the movies. (I remember seeing 9 to 5 also, but I liked that one more at the time.) Anyway, I've had an itch to watch it over the past month or so, possibly because I heard the Stephen Bishop song somewhere. A few weekends ago, I was flipping through channels on the tv and it was on, so I watched the last half. Last week, I finally went to the video store and rented it. It's so good.
The cast is strong; the acting, timing, and improv are great (Teri Garr, as Sandy, is hilarious.) The story's good, basically, Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) learns how to be a better man by pretending to be a woman. The writing (plot, story arc, character arc, set-up, resolution), directing, cinematography, editing, all great.
I watched it with the commentary on last night, which was fun. And Sydney Pollack (director) is generous in the info he shares: helpful for actors, screenwriters, directors, and cinematographers. He talks about the choices made in all of the above, the why and the how. I might have to buy it for the commentary, I'm getting a lot out of it.
My only critique would be as to the use of point-of-view in some of the single shots, and this is from sitting in the critiques in the directing for film class, (and it's often shot this way), when the characters are facing each other, and the camera angle is coming in from the side and not over-the-shoulder of the receiving character, I wonder who's looking at the character speaking. If I'd never sat through the critiques, I probably wouldn't care, and it doesn't necessarily distract from the story, but I notice it now.
The cast is strong; the acting, timing, and improv are great (Teri Garr, as Sandy, is hilarious.) The story's good, basically, Michael Dorsey (Dustin Hoffman) learns how to be a better man by pretending to be a woman. The writing (plot, story arc, character arc, set-up, resolution), directing, cinematography, editing, all great.
I watched it with the commentary on last night, which was fun. And Sydney Pollack (director) is generous in the info he shares: helpful for actors, screenwriters, directors, and cinematographers. He talks about the choices made in all of the above, the why and the how. I might have to buy it for the commentary, I'm getting a lot out of it.
My only critique would be as to the use of point-of-view in some of the single shots, and this is from sitting in the critiques in the directing for film class, (and it's often shot this way), when the characters are facing each other, and the camera angle is coming in from the side and not over-the-shoulder of the receiving character, I wonder who's looking at the character speaking. If I'd never sat through the critiques, I probably wouldn't care, and it doesn't necessarily distract from the story, but I notice it now.
Tuesday, October 10, 2017
Lately
It's feast or famine with my library holds: four at once, including one I wanted to read for the Bingo thing. On Monday, the morning was socked in with a dry fog. In the evening, three hours of singing rehearsal, Oma Maa is sounding good, and we have our first gig of other music this weekend.
Been walking a lot to make up for being immobile for three months. The trees are glorious, I missed half the summer. The air is suddenly chilled in the morning. Everything changing.
Can't find my camera, not a lot of places it could've gotten to, but still, it eludes me.
Saturday morning. Empty. A few hardy souls line up in their winter jackets, waiting for the car tabs place to open. I'm looking for a cash machine. Later, two hours at the Farmer's Market, talking to people. Cooking, cleaning out the cabinet, post-ant situation, although, there were still some around.
Digging through 14 boxes to find one small box I offered to give away, and when I was at the point of aching until I wanted to scream, and couldn't stand to be home anymore, I got up and went to a party where I wouldn't really know anyone, but the possible social awkwardness seemed a better option than being alone with my thoughts for the evening. I was late, but the musicians were still playing, and ended up being people I liked, and everyone was nice; no cliques. Two hours later, I walked home, and I was fine again. The rain had passed, leaving the pavement wet, but the clouds scuttled across a rising moon, now you see it, now you don't. It wasn't too late, and if felt good to be able to walk.
On Sunday, a detour home through the ravine, for more nature time. And then later, having been lazing around the house for hours, watching youtube videos, a walk out to Aurora to donate some old clothes in a drop box, and then continuing around the lake, even though the light was quickly fading. A glorious evening, Jane's Addiction's "Summertime Rolls" playing in my head the whole time I walked, even though it is no longer summer. Briefly stopped by the spider metropolis to give myself the heebie-jeebies, but they were down in numbers, and perhaps it was too early for them to be cruising around much. I continued home, my favorite time of day, post-sunset, pre-fully darkened sky. Dark enough to not really see the ground, a few of the brighter stars visible, but dreamy all the same.
Insomnia. Feeling like someone is sticking a knife in my chest, which is hopefully just a hormonal thing, my doctor didn't seem overly concerned, though I did go get a mammogram, which are always fun, if thankfully, brief. (And I tell myself that if it were a heart attack, I'd probably already be dead, been going on for a while. It's how I calm myself when I wake up with it in the middle of the night.) Walking back along rarely traveled paths (for me), enjoying a brief stint of shake-up to my morning routine: boats gleam on the water, piles of small stones in regular intervals on the sidewalk, oak trees with leaves in green, gold, orange, red, and black: magnificent. A chill in the air, and the sky thickening with clouds, but no rain, yet. Walking northward, until a bus shows up to get me to work.
Been walking a lot to make up for being immobile for three months. The trees are glorious, I missed half the summer. The air is suddenly chilled in the morning. Everything changing.
Can't find my camera, not a lot of places it could've gotten to, but still, it eludes me.
Saturday morning. Empty. A few hardy souls line up in their winter jackets, waiting for the car tabs place to open. I'm looking for a cash machine. Later, two hours at the Farmer's Market, talking to people. Cooking, cleaning out the cabinet, post-ant situation, although, there were still some around.
Digging through 14 boxes to find one small box I offered to give away, and when I was at the point of aching until I wanted to scream, and couldn't stand to be home anymore, I got up and went to a party where I wouldn't really know anyone, but the possible social awkwardness seemed a better option than being alone with my thoughts for the evening. I was late, but the musicians were still playing, and ended up being people I liked, and everyone was nice; no cliques. Two hours later, I walked home, and I was fine again. The rain had passed, leaving the pavement wet, but the clouds scuttled across a rising moon, now you see it, now you don't. It wasn't too late, and if felt good to be able to walk.
On Sunday, a detour home through the ravine, for more nature time. And then later, having been lazing around the house for hours, watching youtube videos, a walk out to Aurora to donate some old clothes in a drop box, and then continuing around the lake, even though the light was quickly fading. A glorious evening, Jane's Addiction's "Summertime Rolls" playing in my head the whole time I walked, even though it is no longer summer. Briefly stopped by the spider metropolis to give myself the heebie-jeebies, but they were down in numbers, and perhaps it was too early for them to be cruising around much. I continued home, my favorite time of day, post-sunset, pre-fully darkened sky. Dark enough to not really see the ground, a few of the brighter stars visible, but dreamy all the same.
Insomnia. Feeling like someone is sticking a knife in my chest, which is hopefully just a hormonal thing, my doctor didn't seem overly concerned, though I did go get a mammogram, which are always fun, if thankfully, brief. (And I tell myself that if it were a heart attack, I'd probably already be dead, been going on for a while. It's how I calm myself when I wake up with it in the middle of the night.) Walking back along rarely traveled paths (for me), enjoying a brief stint of shake-up to my morning routine: boats gleam on the water, piles of small stones in regular intervals on the sidewalk, oak trees with leaves in green, gold, orange, red, and black: magnificent. A chill in the air, and the sky thickening with clouds, but no rain, yet. Walking northward, until a bus shows up to get me to work.
Monday, October 2, 2017
Monday
Saw a lot of heavy theatre this weekend (Belarus Free Theatre's "Burning Doors" at On the Boards, a friend's reading of a new play, and Fantastic Z's powerful production of Geoffrey Nauffts' "Next Fall" at the Ballard Underground) and then woke up to the news from Las Vegas. Comfort and strength to all who are oppressed or suffering. We have work to do.
Cheryl Waters played this song earlier on KEXP today, and since it was also the song-of-the-day, I've now listened to it about 50 times. (Anything else feels jarring.)
Iron and Wine, "Call it Dreaming."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=BXC80ZXQhvQ
Cheryl Waters played this song earlier on KEXP today, and since it was also the song-of-the-day, I've now listened to it about 50 times. (Anything else feels jarring.)
Iron and Wine, "Call it Dreaming."
https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=2&v=BXC80ZXQhvQ
Thursday, September 28, 2017
Change
Today would've been a good day to play hooky: probable last super nice day of the year, it's already 84 degrees out. I had an appointment to get my foot looked at this morning, and the doctor was running an hour behind schedule (and I couldn't reschedule as he's going out of town, plus I was already there, and I want to stop wearing the boot as soon as I can; it's gonna be raining more, and because of blood clot risk.) Five more weeks until he wants me to start PT, and if it doesn't hurt, I can switch to an ankle brace instead of the boot. I didn't make it into work until 1:30 pm.
For last night's insomnia, I did a personal strength quiz (VIA, it ranks 24 strengths; my top had to do with learning and knowledge, my 22nd was self-regulation, which I mention because I've known that one was weak, and have been trying to work on it.) It's funny, I'd bought Gretchen Rubin's book (Better than Before) about forming habits a while back, but had gotten stuck on trying to figure out what my tendency was, then recently there was a quiz attached to an article, which calculated it for me: Rebel (basically, rebel against outer and inner rules, so I have to find some other reason. Shame doesn't work. Cost doesn't work., etc.) Anyway, I was talking to my dental hygienist about (not) flossing regularly, decided to be completely transparent about it (usually I make myself floss some few weeks before the appointment.) And things like gum recession or future surgery don't work, because they are an unknown somewhere in the future which may or may not arrive. And he gave me a reason, which I think will work. (You'll have to find your own.)
The self-regulation gets harder as I get older. I think I had other conditioning that has faded over time, that formerly overran my rebel-nature, and it doesn't anymore. A friend was saying she has the same problem. But I also figured out where all that came from, too. Not sure what to do about it, but acknowledgment is a start. I'm trying to learn that what I want and need, matters, and that a lot of the things I do on automatic are not based on actual truths. (Just because something is ingrained, doesn't mean it's true, or should continue to be acted upon.) And the angry god, paternalism, doesn't carry the weight it once did, a good thing, but it leaves a void. And control through fear is unhealthy and dangerous, at any level.
Meeting the friend (not the phone call person) has brought up a lot of this. Things that hurt, that I need to deal with. Things I need to change in my own behavior, especially towards myself. (I also have been feeling listless and depressed; irrationally, it feels like I just went through the break-up again, something that happened more than half my lifetime ago.)
Finding out new things every day. Ultimately, I suppose it's for the best. It sucks.
For last night's insomnia, I did a personal strength quiz (VIA, it ranks 24 strengths; my top had to do with learning and knowledge, my 22nd was self-regulation, which I mention because I've known that one was weak, and have been trying to work on it.) It's funny, I'd bought Gretchen Rubin's book (Better than Before) about forming habits a while back, but had gotten stuck on trying to figure out what my tendency was, then recently there was a quiz attached to an article, which calculated it for me: Rebel (basically, rebel against outer and inner rules, so I have to find some other reason. Shame doesn't work. Cost doesn't work., etc.) Anyway, I was talking to my dental hygienist about (not) flossing regularly, decided to be completely transparent about it (usually I make myself floss some few weeks before the appointment.) And things like gum recession or future surgery don't work, because they are an unknown somewhere in the future which may or may not arrive. And he gave me a reason, which I think will work. (You'll have to find your own.)
The self-regulation gets harder as I get older. I think I had other conditioning that has faded over time, that formerly overran my rebel-nature, and it doesn't anymore. A friend was saying she has the same problem. But I also figured out where all that came from, too. Not sure what to do about it, but acknowledgment is a start. I'm trying to learn that what I want and need, matters, and that a lot of the things I do on automatic are not based on actual truths. (Just because something is ingrained, doesn't mean it's true, or should continue to be acted upon.) And the angry god, paternalism, doesn't carry the weight it once did, a good thing, but it leaves a void. And control through fear is unhealthy and dangerous, at any level.
Meeting the friend (not the phone call person) has brought up a lot of this. Things that hurt, that I need to deal with. Things I need to change in my own behavior, especially towards myself. (I also have been feeling listless and depressed; irrationally, it feels like I just went through the break-up again, something that happened more than half my lifetime ago.)
Finding out new things every day. Ultimately, I suppose it's for the best. It sucks.
Monday, September 25, 2017
Monday
Put my sweater on backward, again. I noticed as I was leaving the house, but wanted to get to work on time, so left anyway. I really should put a new light-bulb in.
Worked on a video shoot last night for a performance project. It's for illustrating the project to potential venues. It's slow-tempo movement; it was fun. I'd been looking forward to it all month, but was still anxious all weekend about not wearing the "right" clothing. I could've emailed someone about it, but didn't. In the end, what I had was fine (and I mentioned that to one of the other actors, she said she did the same thing.) Anxiety: welcome to my head. Anyway, I hope the project happens, and I can be a part of the actual work. I love performing (and it's a cool project.)
My co-worker thinks I should talk to the phone-call person. I was thinking about it yesterday, I agree. We have to work together, it'd be weird to not acknowledge it, and less cowardly to deal with it on my part. (Although, still have to figure out the circumstances to address it.)
And I was wrong. On deeper thought, I know what I want.
Worked on a video shoot last night for a performance project. It's for illustrating the project to potential venues. It's slow-tempo movement; it was fun. I'd been looking forward to it all month, but was still anxious all weekend about not wearing the "right" clothing. I could've emailed someone about it, but didn't. In the end, what I had was fine (and I mentioned that to one of the other actors, she said she did the same thing.) Anxiety: welcome to my head. Anyway, I hope the project happens, and I can be a part of the actual work. I love performing (and it's a cool project.)
My co-worker thinks I should talk to the phone-call person. I was thinking about it yesterday, I agree. We have to work together, it'd be weird to not acknowledge it, and less cowardly to deal with it on my part. (Although, still have to figure out the circumstances to address it.)
And I was wrong. On deeper thought, I know what I want.
Wednesday, September 20, 2017
Awkward
I had a voice message from someone I've been loosely associated with for a while, and somehow his saying his name made me realize that we briefly dated back when I was 22 or 23. (We actually had met in high school at a camp or something.) If he hadn't said his name, I wouldn't have made the connection. He doesn't look the same at all. I'd forgotten about it (blocked it out? I dated a lot of people at 23, more than the rest of my life put together. None of it meant anything, i.e., wasn't serious, not for them, I don't think, either.) I'd briefly had a crush on him in high school, but dating was weird: dark, borderline abusive. After thinking about it, I now remember one of my roommates saying at the time, to our third roommate, plus myself, that he wasn't gonna change our phone number because we gave our number to people and then didn't want to answer the phone. And now it's awkward. I actually hope he doesn't make the connection at all. (Or hasn't, apparently, I'm really slow.) Or hopefully I'm wrong, and it's not the same person. (Most likely, it is. We had a conversation about something we had in common some months ago, which increases the odds.) I don't want to leave something that's important to me, kinda' done with all that, actually, the whole shrinking of my life: it was my world first. (And I'll accept that people can change over time. It was a long time ago.)
For the record, I've blacked a lot of things out. (Or perhaps they've all blurred together in my memory, and now suddenly, they are separating into the individual stories that they are. All of them, let loose by a phone call.) The political climate has brought stuff back up, stuff I'd rather not remember, though I'm surprised I'd forgotten about some of it, didn't happen all that long ago. (The memories are real, I wrote about them at the time. I've kept journals since high school, plus I told the friends I was with.)
I find that I'm unexpectedly free. I should finish the book; "Anne of Green Gables." It's sweet, and poetic, and I originally picked it up because I remembered that my mom liked the series on public television. It's a nice respite from most everything else I've been reading. And I've been getting "your library book is way past due" emails. It is.
For the record, I've blacked a lot of things out. (Or perhaps they've all blurred together in my memory, and now suddenly, they are separating into the individual stories that they are. All of them, let loose by a phone call.) The political climate has brought stuff back up, stuff I'd rather not remember, though I'm surprised I'd forgotten about some of it, didn't happen all that long ago. (The memories are real, I wrote about them at the time. I've kept journals since high school, plus I told the friends I was with.)
I find that I'm unexpectedly free. I should finish the book; "Anne of Green Gables." It's sweet, and poetic, and I originally picked it up because I remembered that my mom liked the series on public television. It's a nice respite from most everything else I've been reading. And I've been getting "your library book is way past due" emails. It is.
Dealing with myself
Woke up late. Less pissed off (almost not, bothers me still, but I'm not pissed.) Had insomnia and a long ear worm playing in my head around 3 am, and my leg hurt. Dreamt about travel, but never arriving, never actually taking off, and the destination kept changing (as did the people I was traveling with.) I wondered how much time I'd taken off of work, and then wondered if I'd actually gotten around to telling anyone. And then I sat at a different chair at a long table for dinner, so never got the food I ordered. Left wondering if I still had to pay for it (the bill never came), and hungry. Walking back to our rooms, a co-worker was suddenly there, and she grabbed something out of a display case to eat, I asked if we could do that, she just did it anyway. (Go ahead and take what you need?) I woke up before I took any food. Stumbling around because I wasn't fully awake, but didn't want to be late for work.
Head more clear. Cold-read, but haven't finished the book. Trying to face my own issues, so that they don't overtake my head, apparently, I think too much: rumination. (I wasn't wishing I was anywhere, or with anyone, else.) Would like to focus on doing something useful in the world. Much greater issues than mine: feeling used to get back at/gain the attention of someone who wasn't in the room. His trying to feel something that he can't, doesn't, is not in a place for; that is what it is, the latter is life, not everything is gonna work. And I think I was too bold, anyway. Obviously it's the first part that bothers me, feels like sleight-of-hand, had been under the impression it was a date, with me. And it's true, it bothers me, in general, when you're hanging out with someone, friend/date/family member, and they are checking their phone the whole time (he wasn't doing that), it's the idea of being present with who you are with. So, what's my issue that this bothers me more than that? History (shared) and baggage (mine.) Thought I dealt with this, ugh. And I guess I need to face it again, now; if not now, I'll have to face it again later. Do we get good at this? (Edited this at 3 am on Saturday, because I don't feel like writing a different post. Plus, someone is stomping around downstairs, so, probably not falling back asleep until they stop. Have to go lead a work party in the morning.)
Still, I do have to take care of myself. What I want matters too, for me, for any healthy relationship; and I'm not sure what that is.
Head more clear. Cold-read, but haven't finished the book. Trying to face my own issues, so that they don't overtake my head, apparently, I think too much: rumination. (I wasn't wishing I was anywhere, or with anyone, else.) Would like to focus on doing something useful in the world. Much greater issues than mine: feeling used to get back at/gain the attention of someone who wasn't in the room. His trying to feel something that he can't, doesn't, is not in a place for; that is what it is, the latter is life, not everything is gonna work. And I think I was too bold, anyway. Obviously it's the first part that bothers me, feels like sleight-of-hand, had been under the impression it was a date, with me. And it's true, it bothers me, in general, when you're hanging out with someone, friend/date/family member, and they are checking their phone the whole time (he wasn't doing that), it's the idea of being present with who you are with. So, what's my issue that this bothers me more than that? History (shared) and baggage (mine.) Thought I dealt with this, ugh. And I guess I need to face it again, now; if not now, I'll have to face it again later. Do we get good at this? (Edited this at 3 am on Saturday, because I don't feel like writing a different post. Plus, someone is stomping around downstairs, so, probably not falling back asleep until they stop. Have to go lead a work party in the morning.)
Still, I do have to take care of myself. What I want matters too, for me, for any healthy relationship; and I'm not sure what that is.
Tuesday, September 19, 2017
Where I'm at
"Something doesn't actually need to be real in order to have power in our lives." Stolen from a friend's facebook post.
Mood swings
I think it must be raining. I'm feeling too lazy to look, plus, it's still dark out. Woke us yesterday morning feeling the opposite of Sunday, like all the joy had been sucked out, that it was a fluke, that I was played (maliciously or not, and I don't necessarily think it was malicious, but thinking that somehow doesn't make me feel any better.) Yeah, I get it, life is messy. I respect that, but I still need to clear my head. Is it true, was I? I don't know, I haven't been able to shake the feeling. Even thinking it sucks, especially if it's not (consciously, meaning: caluculated. And transactions that look fair on paper "win=win" don't necessarily play out the same, emotions get involved) true. It makes me feel disloyal, and distrusting...because I gave too much trust, too soon. And it sucks if it's true, we had just had a conversation about it.
A change in the weather dramatically blew through yesterday afternoon, darkening skies, a big sudden drop in temperature, wind, and pounding rain, and then our usual "one peal of thunder." Guess it wanted to get our attention. My coworker came by a little later to say she'd seen a flash of light, and briefly wondered if she'd been hallucinating (she wasn't facing a window), but then heard the thunder, so figured she wasn't.
Another friend who works in the building had found a massive fig tree on his daily walk and came in to throw some at me...they were really good. I thought the trees were done a month ago. He says it's loaded still, he knows where all the fruit trees are.
And we mostly ended up rehearsing "Oma Maa" (Sibelius) last night (we have three gigs coming up, all with completely different music); the harmonies give me goosebumps, and the people who sit behind me have gorgeous voices. It's my favorite piece of music to sing (also, at the very top of my range, so it's hard, too. And since we don't have the orchestral part, and will have maybe one rehearsal with the conductor, that'll be hard, too. When we sang "Finlandia" at Benaroya a couple of years ago, I couldn't figure out what the conductor was counting-couldn't see his down beats, and the time signature kept changing-and we were spread out in the audience to sing it, which made it even harder. At least this time we will be on the stage, together, and facing the conductor.)
The best of it was that in being around him, (aside from that he's funny, he's wicked smart, we have a lot in common, and in general, I enjoy his company) I saw the good in myself, what I bring to the world, and whether he remains a part of my life or not, all those things are still true. I need to remind myself (constantly) of that, too.
This is me acknowledging that I have feelings, I'll get over it. (And this has nothing to do with sex.) In the meantime, life goes on.
A change in the weather dramatically blew through yesterday afternoon, darkening skies, a big sudden drop in temperature, wind, and pounding rain, and then our usual "one peal of thunder." Guess it wanted to get our attention. My coworker came by a little later to say she'd seen a flash of light, and briefly wondered if she'd been hallucinating (she wasn't facing a window), but then heard the thunder, so figured she wasn't.
Another friend who works in the building had found a massive fig tree on his daily walk and came in to throw some at me...they were really good. I thought the trees were done a month ago. He says it's loaded still, he knows where all the fruit trees are.
And we mostly ended up rehearsing "Oma Maa" (Sibelius) last night (we have three gigs coming up, all with completely different music); the harmonies give me goosebumps, and the people who sit behind me have gorgeous voices. It's my favorite piece of music to sing (also, at the very top of my range, so it's hard, too. And since we don't have the orchestral part, and will have maybe one rehearsal with the conductor, that'll be hard, too. When we sang "Finlandia" at Benaroya a couple of years ago, I couldn't figure out what the conductor was counting-couldn't see his down beats, and the time signature kept changing-and we were spread out in the audience to sing it, which made it even harder. At least this time we will be on the stage, together, and facing the conductor.)
The best of it was that in being around him, (aside from that he's funny, he's wicked smart, we have a lot in common, and in general, I enjoy his company) I saw the good in myself, what I bring to the world, and whether he remains a part of my life or not, all those things are still true. I need to remind myself (constantly) of that, too.
This is me acknowledging that I have feelings, I'll get over it. (And this has nothing to do with sex.) In the meantime, life goes on.
Sunday, September 17, 2017
Sunday afternoon
Hallelujah, it's finally raining! (Doubly pleased because we really need the rain, and also because it means I can get away with basically doing nothing much for the rest of the day. Need to go work on the garden...really need to work on the garden, but don't feel like going.) The rain will kinda' be a pain with the boot (which I am now wearing for three more weeks, and I overwalked on it, and it hurts a bit. Somehow misplaced the compression wrap last night, not too many places it could've gotten to, but eluding me at the moment.) Reading "High Fidelity" to try to finish it. Had a conversation about it (well, the movie) with a friend a few weeks back. Thought I'd try to read it for part of the Bingo thing (book that was turned into a movie), but the hold didn't come in in time, so read "Fahrenheit 451" instead; I'd watched the latter movie earlier in the summer, book and movie different enough to make it interesting (the ending is very different, the book more grim.)
I have another book, overdue, to finish, and I want to work on cold reading (need to work on monologues, too, but wasn't gonna do that today.) Went to a show with a friend on Friday night, and made me think that it's time to get off my ass and audition, again. If you don't work for the things that matter to you, you just find yourself older and in the same place.
And then the facing of myself in ways that only come out in relation to someone else that brings them out. As in everything, theory is interesting, but not the same as living. And getting along with someone so well, I find myself afraid it's a fluke...only to remind myself, I have had real, honest, close friendships that weren't hard work all the time. I have to remind myself: not everything has to be hard all the time.
I have another book, overdue, to finish, and I want to work on cold reading (need to work on monologues, too, but wasn't gonna do that today.) Went to a show with a friend on Friday night, and made me think that it's time to get off my ass and audition, again. If you don't work for the things that matter to you, you just find yourself older and in the same place.
And then the facing of myself in ways that only come out in relation to someone else that brings them out. As in everything, theory is interesting, but not the same as living. And getting along with someone so well, I find myself afraid it's a fluke...only to remind myself, I have had real, honest, close friendships that weren't hard work all the time. I have to remind myself: not everything has to be hard all the time.
Thursday, September 7, 2017
Re-injure
On my way to run errands before choir practice, I tripped and landed on my foot sideways. Made it home, but it's pretty swollen, and it hurts (not unbearablly so, but pretty bad.) Kinda' threw out my back, too. So, instead of choir, I'm lying around with my foot wrapped in an Ace bandage, and elevated. Waiting for the ice-pack to re-freeze. I guess, at least it's the same foot as before? I can use the boot if necessary. I hope it's just a sprain. My new housemate asked if I needed a ride somewhere, which was nice. I'm gonna wait and see how I feel in the morning, and there's clinic across the street from work.
Speaking of the house, the whole house turned over, except the man in the room next to me, and myself. Change is inevitable, as much as I get anxious about it. Lot of change, which alternates between excitement and terror, or maybe they are two sides of the same thing.
The hoped for rain never arrived. So the smoke still lingers. Yesterday and today, all day, an orange glow where the sunlight broke through. It was like dawn all day. Every moment a new beginning, a chance to start over. Endless chances. Strange light.
After saying I didn't know what I would do with my time, a neighbor posted that she was giving away plums, if anyone wanted, so I walked up and picked some. Coming home, not very late, very little traffic, no one out on the streets, the few cars I saw had headlights burning early. It must be the smoke.
Maybe I should've taken higher anti-inflammatories...this is really starting to hurt.
Speaking of the house, the whole house turned over, except the man in the room next to me, and myself. Change is inevitable, as much as I get anxious about it. Lot of change, which alternates between excitement and terror, or maybe they are two sides of the same thing.
The hoped for rain never arrived. So the smoke still lingers. Yesterday and today, all day, an orange glow where the sunlight broke through. It was like dawn all day. Every moment a new beginning, a chance to start over. Endless chances. Strange light.
After saying I didn't know what I would do with my time, a neighbor posted that she was giving away plums, if anyone wanted, so I walked up and picked some. Coming home, not very late, very little traffic, no one out on the streets, the few cars I saw had headlights burning early. It must be the smoke.
Maybe I should've taken higher anti-inflammatories...this is really starting to hurt.
Tuesday, September 5, 2017
Finally done
Now that the Summer Book Bingo is over, and my foot is more or less weight bearing, what shall I fill my time with? I feel very free.
By author, I read (since beginning of July, sat around a lot with the not-being-able-to-walk thing):
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams*
I, Robot - Isaac Asimov
Are You My Mother? - Alison Bechdel
In the Unlikely Event - Judy Blume
Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
The Martian Chronicles - Ray Bradbury
Time Out of Joint - Philip K. Dick
Following the Milky Way-A Pilgrimage Across Spain - Ellen O. Feinberg
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald*
i am Brian Wilson - Ben Greenman and Brian Wilson
Langston Hughes Short Stories - Ed. by Akiba Sullivan Harper
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L'Engle*
True and False-Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor - David Mamet
Night Train to Lisbon - Pascal Mercier
19 Varieties of Gazelle-Poems of the Middle East - Naomi Shihab Nye
You & Yours - Naomi Shihab Nye
Citizen 13660 - Miné Okubo
Felicity - Mary Oliver
Boy, Snow, Bird - Helen Oyeyemi
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
Shrill - Lindy West
A Room of One's Own - Virginia Woolf
* have also read in full in the past. The Mamet and Feinberg books, I've read in part in the past, but re-read, in order.
By author, I read (since beginning of July, sat around a lot with the not-being-able-to-walk thing):
The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams*
I, Robot - Isaac Asimov
Are You My Mother? - Alison Bechdel
In the Unlikely Event - Judy Blume
Fahrenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury
The Martian Chronicles - Ray Bradbury
Time Out of Joint - Philip K. Dick
Following the Milky Way-A Pilgrimage Across Spain - Ellen O. Feinberg
The Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald*
i am Brian Wilson - Ben Greenman and Brian Wilson
Langston Hughes Short Stories - Ed. by Akiba Sullivan Harper
Brave New World - Aldous Huxley
The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L'Engle*
True and False-Heresy and Common Sense for the Actor - David Mamet
Night Train to Lisbon - Pascal Mercier
19 Varieties of Gazelle-Poems of the Middle East - Naomi Shihab Nye
You & Yours - Naomi Shihab Nye
Citizen 13660 - Miné Okubo
Felicity - Mary Oliver
Boy, Snow, Bird - Helen Oyeyemi
The Catcher in the Rye - J.D. Salinger
Shrill - Lindy West
A Room of One's Own - Virginia Woolf
* have also read in full in the past. The Mamet and Feinberg books, I've read in part in the past, but re-read, in order.
Apocalyptic
Ash, from forest fires. Swirling around my head when I got off of the bus, I tried to brush it away with my hands, thinking it was a swarm of gnats, then noticed it falling from the sky. Last time we had ash was in 1980 when the Mt St. Helens blew. Wondered if I missed the news (joked about nuclear winter. Perhaps if you were born after 1991, you don't get that. We thought we were free of the fear, but there was never a full disarmament. But we all grew up with the fear of nuclear war, or at least it always played in the background: life goes on.) The sky full of smoke above. My co-worker pulled me outside to look at the sun: red.
Last night I walked out to the lake to watch the sun, trying to finish one last book in my room, and lying in a pool of sweat, the orange light shining on my wall. The sun disappeared into nothingness, as a man pulled out his camera to shoot a photo behind me. Didn't even set, just faded into gray. When the light got too low to read, I went to a bar, which has some air flow, stayed 'til it was dark.
By the time I walked home, the moon had risen high enough to see, blood red. No one else seemed to notice, and I wanted someone else to look at it. Finally, heading up my street, a man walking his dog stopped to take a picture of the moon but I didn't say anything to him, he was on the other side of the street and in his own world. It was visible from the sidewalk in front of my house, but no one was home, so I couldn't drag any of my housemates out to look at it. Went on facebook, and the first post I saw was a friend mentioning it: knew there must've been some deeper reason I wanted to know you back when we met. Today, more of my friends are commenting on it.
Still haven't finished the book. The bingo thing needs to be turned in today. I've got about 100 pages left, so might be doable (but it's dense.) I'm in a section where a long-term friendship (decades) was destroyed, and I remembered one of the first books I finished for this thing dealt with a similar issue. (Judy Blume, "In the Unlikely Event," and Pascal Mercier, "Night Train to Lisbon.") The unquenchable pain, bookends my summer.
Last night I walked out to the lake to watch the sun, trying to finish one last book in my room, and lying in a pool of sweat, the orange light shining on my wall. The sun disappeared into nothingness, as a man pulled out his camera to shoot a photo behind me. Didn't even set, just faded into gray. When the light got too low to read, I went to a bar, which has some air flow, stayed 'til it was dark.
By the time I walked home, the moon had risen high enough to see, blood red. No one else seemed to notice, and I wanted someone else to look at it. Finally, heading up my street, a man walking his dog stopped to take a picture of the moon but I didn't say anything to him, he was on the other side of the street and in his own world. It was visible from the sidewalk in front of my house, but no one was home, so I couldn't drag any of my housemates out to look at it. Went on facebook, and the first post I saw was a friend mentioning it: knew there must've been some deeper reason I wanted to know you back when we met. Today, more of my friends are commenting on it.
Still haven't finished the book. The bingo thing needs to be turned in today. I've got about 100 pages left, so might be doable (but it's dense.) I'm in a section where a long-term friendship (decades) was destroyed, and I remembered one of the first books I finished for this thing dealt with a similar issue. (Judy Blume, "In the Unlikely Event," and Pascal Mercier, "Night Train to Lisbon.") The unquenchable pain, bookends my summer.
Wednesday, August 30, 2017
Inner earthquakes
Woke up to the sound of a firecracker being shot off in the alley, and a wicked dehydration headache. The heatwave has been back, and I'd forgotten to open my window earlier in the day, so the room (and house) were sweltering. Can't remember what I was dreaming about, but I thought of the "Great Gatsby" (because I finished it on Monday-one of the faster reads, he was a good writer, and it's short) and when I awoke I wondered why, on the day that everything happened, Gatsby says to Nick, about Daisy, that her voice is the sound of money? There is disdain, but he still somehow wants her, or what she represents, even though by the time he says it, his dreams of a life with her are already slipping away to nothing. (Though, I suppose it's the clinging of the desperate to an obsession his whole life had been built in service to.)
Was up writing in the middle of the night. Couldn't sleep. Seismic shifts in my head from a conversation, one line of it really. And you can't change the outcome of something that happened almost three decades ago. But I regret my own lack of self-love or self-worth that caused my own blindness at the time. But there were still things none of us said to each other, things we didn't know about each other, and who knows at the time, what will matter in the end? (And the sudden joy of remembering that someone made his life hard at the time, the joy now not because I wanted him to suffer, but more because she (because anyone) cared enough about me to defend me. That someone thought I was worth defending. And the core group of friends during those two years...I would choose them all again.)
I remember the last time I saw each of two friends from that era, right before I moved to finish college. One instance I've thought about a lot over the years, the other, I'd somehow forgotten. A close friend had come into where I was working (I was waiting tables) and asked me a favor, which I said I'd do, but I never saw him again, because we somehow lost touch. I remember having the impression that he had shrunk, that all the air of his life had been sucked out. I tried to hug him, but he pulled away. The other set of eyes disapproving, which I get, a new phase of life and all...to you, I hope you got yourself back.
To me, I've lived my life way too cautiously, worrying about the wrong things.
Was up writing in the middle of the night. Couldn't sleep. Seismic shifts in my head from a conversation, one line of it really. And you can't change the outcome of something that happened almost three decades ago. But I regret my own lack of self-love or self-worth that caused my own blindness at the time. But there were still things none of us said to each other, things we didn't know about each other, and who knows at the time, what will matter in the end? (And the sudden joy of remembering that someone made his life hard at the time, the joy now not because I wanted him to suffer, but more because she (because anyone) cared enough about me to defend me. That someone thought I was worth defending. And the core group of friends during those two years...I would choose them all again.)
I remember the last time I saw each of two friends from that era, right before I moved to finish college. One instance I've thought about a lot over the years, the other, I'd somehow forgotten. A close friend had come into where I was working (I was waiting tables) and asked me a favor, which I said I'd do, but I never saw him again, because we somehow lost touch. I remember having the impression that he had shrunk, that all the air of his life had been sucked out. I tried to hug him, but he pulled away. The other set of eyes disapproving, which I get, a new phase of life and all...to you, I hope you got yourself back.
To me, I've lived my life way too cautiously, worrying about the wrong things.
Thursday, August 24, 2017
Books, books, and more books
Hate to say it, but I'm getting somewhat burned out on reading. (Well, in particular, reading to fulfill a category. I've completed 16 books, though one of those was about trauma, so doesn't count, and have started ten others, not sure if I'll finish them all or not.) The deadline is Sept 5, maybe I'll just fill out the card in an interesting pattern. I'm not super excited about any of the books I'm currently reading, and they are long (but I want to complete the challenge, to not have something hanging over me, undone) Plus, it's the end of summer, and the smoke has cleared, and the days are getting shorter, and minus this boot (which I'm still wearing), I'd like to get out and enjoy it more. It's starting to feel like school, a self-imposed one.
Some photos from the past couple of months.
Some photos from the past couple of months.
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| Lights to lead you home, August 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Soft, July 6/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Shroud, August 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Big, sunflower face, August 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
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| Field, August 17/L Herlevi 2017 |
Monday, August 14, 2017
In flux
It's odd how it suddenly feels like autumn: the cooler breeze, people wearing jackets, leaves falling, the earlier dusks. I feel optimistic with the approaching autumn, it's from being a kid, that this year, things will be different. Nothing is settled yet. That this year, I can reinvent myself.
One side of our kitchen blew a fuse (unclear why) yesterday. The side that included the fridge. I only noticed because the time was off on the microwave. It got fixed at some point today, I had moved most perishable food to the other fridge, but there is a lot to dump. It needed to be cleaned anyway, but I'm not in the mood to do it tonight. I dumped a few jars I was willing to open, but I think I'll stop, and read. Not sure why I'm letting all the responsibility fall on me, ditto for cleaning the house, but they can all hold out longer than I can. I'm trying to not let all these things be an excuse to not take care of myself (had a thing at work today, too, scheduled at the same time as my foot appointment. I didn't change either, and it went fine without my being around, which is good.) This is unfamiliar territory for me, but healthy to try.
(I'll probably still be the one to clean the fridge, but just on my own time. And it'd be nice to clear out old, scary stuff, rather than avoid it out of guilt, for wasting.)
Have to talk to a surgeon regarding my foot, probably won't do it (the surgery), but it would help. They'll give me a shot when I next go in. I just have a lot of stairs in my life, so that would need to change first.
Finally decided to respond to a friend from my past who has been throwing out hooks for years (not often, but they've been thrown.) I never really thought he meant it; that it was just something you say, in passing. And perhaps it is. And perhaps it was rude for me to brush him off. I had a good reason, though (he was married, we used to date when we were in college, meeting felt weird), it wasn't personal. I do like him, any lingering, whatever, is long gone. Maybe there's something good in knowing each other again.
One side of our kitchen blew a fuse (unclear why) yesterday. The side that included the fridge. I only noticed because the time was off on the microwave. It got fixed at some point today, I had moved most perishable food to the other fridge, but there is a lot to dump. It needed to be cleaned anyway, but I'm not in the mood to do it tonight. I dumped a few jars I was willing to open, but I think I'll stop, and read. Not sure why I'm letting all the responsibility fall on me, ditto for cleaning the house, but they can all hold out longer than I can. I'm trying to not let all these things be an excuse to not take care of myself (had a thing at work today, too, scheduled at the same time as my foot appointment. I didn't change either, and it went fine without my being around, which is good.) This is unfamiliar territory for me, but healthy to try.
(I'll probably still be the one to clean the fridge, but just on my own time. And it'd be nice to clear out old, scary stuff, rather than avoid it out of guilt, for wasting.)
Have to talk to a surgeon regarding my foot, probably won't do it (the surgery), but it would help. They'll give me a shot when I next go in. I just have a lot of stairs in my life, so that would need to change first.
Finally decided to respond to a friend from my past who has been throwing out hooks for years (not often, but they've been thrown.) I never really thought he meant it; that it was just something you say, in passing. And perhaps it is. And perhaps it was rude for me to brush him off. I had a good reason, though (he was married, we used to date when we were in college, meeting felt weird), it wasn't personal. I do like him, any lingering, whatever, is long gone. Maybe there's something good in knowing each other again.
Sunday, August 13, 2017
Sunday
The rain didn't amount to much, though the change in the atmosphere after so many days of hot, sunny, smoky, broke me from inertia.
I woke early, wind blowing through the windows. Finished the Brian Wilson book, then got dressed and walked over to the library to drop it off. Detoured through the park, it was quiet, not many birds around. As I walked back out toward the road, I heard something fall from a tree: an apple with a bite out of it bounced against the front of a parked car. I went over to take a closer look: it fell from a tulip tree. I suppose some animal had stashed it up there for safe keeping, though it seemed like a large apple for a squirrel to manage.
I stopped by a coffee shop, every one was cleaning. I had to ask to make sure it was open, I was assured it was. I was the only person purchasing anything, a man sat reading a paper behind a merchandise display. It's almost always packed.
I came home to make breakfast, got side-tracked with another book, "Night Train to Lisbon" by Pascal Mercier, and then reminded myself I needed food in my stomach for the Prednisone. After I ate, I started cleaning the house, and after three hours am taking a break. I think the bath mat shrunk, and someone pissed on the floor again, after I wiped it up. It's a losing battle.
Seems like time to let things change.
I woke early, wind blowing through the windows. Finished the Brian Wilson book, then got dressed and walked over to the library to drop it off. Detoured through the park, it was quiet, not many birds around. As I walked back out toward the road, I heard something fall from a tree: an apple with a bite out of it bounced against the front of a parked car. I went over to take a closer look: it fell from a tulip tree. I suppose some animal had stashed it up there for safe keeping, though it seemed like a large apple for a squirrel to manage.
I stopped by a coffee shop, every one was cleaning. I had to ask to make sure it was open, I was assured it was. I was the only person purchasing anything, a man sat reading a paper behind a merchandise display. It's almost always packed.
I came home to make breakfast, got side-tracked with another book, "Night Train to Lisbon" by Pascal Mercier, and then reminded myself I needed food in my stomach for the Prednisone. After I ate, I started cleaning the house, and after three hours am taking a break. I think the bath mat shrunk, and someone pissed on the floor again, after I wiped it up. It's a losing battle.
Seems like time to let things change.
Saturday, August 12, 2017
Quiet here
Sitting in a coffee shop, eating popcorn for dinner, trying to finish up Brian Wilson's memoir: "i am Brian Wilson" tonight. This is only book 13 since end of June (I'm trying for 24 by September 5, not sure if that will happen, but it's already more books than I've read in the past few years combined, though I've read a lot of plays), I'm in the middle of five others, I'm hoping the combination of the lot will add up to something new in my head, though I now can't remember exactly what the first one I read was about, though it reminded me of "The Truman Show" ("Time out of Joint" by Philip K. Dick.)
Just before 10, I walk out and head home. The evening is mostly silent, someone talks on a cell phone in a car; a man runs down the sidewalk; but no sound of traffic. A breeze has kicked up, the smoke has cleared out: it's starting to rain.
Just before 10, I walk out and head home. The evening is mostly silent, someone talks on a cell phone in a car; a man runs down the sidewalk; but no sound of traffic. A breeze has kicked up, the smoke has cleared out: it's starting to rain.
Wednesday, August 2, 2017
Fires
The air last night was acrid. Acrid and hot. Stopped by a grocery store to pick up something for a block party, put some ice and water in a small cup and walked outside. By the time I'd gotten to the end of the block, the ice had melted.
This morning there was some haze, but air seemed cleaner than last evening. By midday the smoke had sunk in down to ground level, on a wind blowing south from British Columbia: forest fires in Central B.C. I saw a map earlier that showed the entire Washington state, minus the higher parts of the Cascades, covered in smoke. Air quality is listed as "moderate to unhealthy." You can see it hang in the air when you look outside, making the air look thick. My nose burned when I stepped outside.
Everything a tinder box. It rained a little bit at my house last Thursday morning, but it's been dry, 45 days without measurable rain.
The sun was unctuous and luscious as it set: first a rich gold, then deep shades of orange, then a duller red, then pink then fading into gray as it dropped below the facing hill; the accompanying trail on the water a golden river, to a red streak like a carpet rolled out, to a broken, faint pink line, then: nothing. No sunset in the rest of the sky, just the smokey haze to dull into darkness.
It never got as hot as predicted, but it's still 81 outside now, and probably closer to 100 inside; no relief tonight.
This morning there was some haze, but air seemed cleaner than last evening. By midday the smoke had sunk in down to ground level, on a wind blowing south from British Columbia: forest fires in Central B.C. I saw a map earlier that showed the entire Washington state, minus the higher parts of the Cascades, covered in smoke. Air quality is listed as "moderate to unhealthy." You can see it hang in the air when you look outside, making the air look thick. My nose burned when I stepped outside.
Everything a tinder box. It rained a little bit at my house last Thursday morning, but it's been dry, 45 days without measurable rain.
The sun was unctuous and luscious as it set: first a rich gold, then deep shades of orange, then a duller red, then pink then fading into gray as it dropped below the facing hill; the accompanying trail on the water a golden river, to a red streak like a carpet rolled out, to a broken, faint pink line, then: nothing. No sunset in the rest of the sky, just the smokey haze to dull into darkness.
It never got as hot as predicted, but it's still 81 outside now, and probably closer to 100 inside; no relief tonight.
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