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.)
Tuesday, November 28, 2017
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.)
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