Monday morning before Christmas

The morning of Christmas Eve.  The sun is making an appearance, sending golden light under the edges of the  grey lid of cloud, lighting the upper edges of the apartments closer to the lake.  A dry lull in the cycle of recent storms.

Woke up to a downpour yesterday, and when I turned on my phone, found a text from a friend saying she'd be late picking me up.  I'd thought she was out of town, so it was a welcome message.  Also, I'd woken up late.  We made it for the last part of the rehearsal, I got relegated to alto, hopefully, not an on-going thing: I can't sing that low on a regular basis.  Spent the afternoon running errands; last minute Christmas gifts, and looking for anything to shorten the length of this (now day 6) annual virus I've managed to catch.  Last night definitely the worst, horrific headache, and I kept waking myself up gasping for breath, and drenched in sweat.  I think it's just a bad cold.

I'd planned on making biscotti, but now have to wait until I'm better.  And using up leftovers to make hash (before going up to visit my family), but have so far only managed to make, and drink, a cup of tea, and brush my teeth.  I need to go pick up a car in an hour.  And do laundry.  And run a couple more errands, before an early rehearsal and service for Christmas Eve.  I just want to sleep.

The traffic is steady and loud, like a distant river, or wind through a wood.  I can hear one chirp of a bird a couple houses over, bright enough to break through the drone of tires on road.  The house is silent.  The street is silent.  I might feel better if I do something.

For fun

Here's a metal version of a Finnish Christmas song we are also singing (we don't sing the metal version.)

Tulkoon Joulu as performed by the Finnish band Raskasta Joulua.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2s_QgMCW9ks

Something and nothing

The sun's out.  (The heat's out at work, but at least it's bright.)  Three weeks until Christmas (so I keep hearing.)  The man across the aisle from me on the bus was loaded down with bags last night, looking at a store flier for sales.  I found something sweet about it.  I went to pay a bill before rehearsal, and kept thinking I was running late, but ended up being 20 minutes early; had the start time wrong in my head.  We have four gigs this week, though I'm only doing two: Nordic Choir Concert, and Finnish Independence Day Dinner/Dance.

Finding I had a free evening last Friday, decided to catch a bus down to Renton to check out "Ivar's Clam Lights" at Gene Coulon Park. Figured out the correct bus, though unclear on where proper stop was; missed it.  Walked back toward the lake, in the promised rain.  Followed a couple of people who looked like they knew where they were going, it got me in the general direction.  I found it in the end.  There was a choir singing, people eating clam chowder under the shelters, but no lights.  I walked out to the pier and wandered.  I have a vague memory of going to the park when I was in college in the late 80's, but only the one time, and haven't been back since.  Around 7 pm, someone made an announcement that they'd turn the lights on early (because of the rain?  Not sure, it was pouring.)  So that happened, and I wandered around for awhile looking at the lights, the way they reflected on the water, getting soaked.  Someone had lit a fire in one of the shelters, people huddled around the provided warmth, and cheeriness.  In the back of my mind I was wondering how the heck I was going to get back home (I had directions, but they didn't really make sense to me.  Perhaps if it was daylight and I could see the street signs, it would have been more clear.)

Walking out of the park, the thwack of windshield wipers of the idling cars waiting for their turn to exit keeping me company.  At the first bus stop, saw a bus heading toward the airport, jumped on it, recognizing nothing outside the windows, but knowing how to get home from there. The road outside was lightly traveled, we made good time.  Looking for food, (it was late, I hadn't really eaten) settled for a donut and a hot chocolate, the woman at the cart mistaking me for a boy.  The flavor in my mouth being of a dirty deep fat fryer.  The airport empty, save one line checking in for departures.  An announcement of a final boarding call to San Francisco.  The bustle and loneliness of travel, the suspension of time, the in-between worlds.  I walked on.

Back out in the cold and wet of the light rail station, wet footprints lead away from the platform, socks maybe, but no shoes.  Recent, but I didn't see the source.

On the train, the intercom announcing the stations had them backwards.  The young men across the aisle started to get up to leave, but we were 20 minutes from their destination, and hurtling along in between stops, at that.  Eventually, a live voice came on, announcing the actual stops, but the lateness of the hour, and the emptiness of the car, made it all disorienting.  It took two hours to get home.

Went to visit the reindeer at a garden shop on Saturday.  When the woman asked if anyone wanted to feed them, I jumped at it.  I suppose it was supposed to be for kids, but they weren't coming forward, it's not like I pushed them out of the way.  I fed it a raisin, it nosed at my hand.  Cute critters.

Spent the rest of the night baking a ham I'd originally bought for Thanksgiving, but then got invited to a friend's family dinner, so hadn't gotten around to doing anything with it.  Have never made one before; turned out well.  Made beans (from dried), and sauteed greens to eat along with it.  Felt very much like an adult; I rarely eat a fully balanced meal on a plate at home.

Sunday's rehearsal/tutorial went well.  I had earlier found an emotional substitution, but couldn't connect with it while we worked the scene.  We were both stronger on voice.  The feedback and blocking directions were helpful.  We just need to rehearse, and I need to do more character work.  Our last class/presentation is this week.

Rainy, and Free, Satuday

Most of life is mundane: laundry, errands, cleaning, work, etc.  I guess I've been waiting for inspiration, to have some eloquence of writing, but it doesn't arrive.  And maybe I'm not eloquent, anyway.

It's raining now.  Got a walk in earlier.  Bumper crop of Amanitas under the birch and cedar trees.  Crowds of parents and dogs and runners and friends; shouts and cheers in the distance, for some rowing event.  A little while later the wind kicked up, boats and birds and flotsam all bobbing on the water.

Had errands to do.  Started making a salad three hours ago, which led to a scouring of the fridge and cooking various items before they went bad (and lots of cleaning, and taking out the compost and garbage.)  I haven't been home much, my good intentions haven't panned out.  When I've been home, I've mostly just slept.

Anyway, made a curried apple salad (yogurt, celery needed to be used), and that turned out the best of everything; it's pretty tasty.  (Apples, raisins, walnuts, celery, scallion, sheep yogurt, lemon juice, and curry powder.)  Also, I decided to go off of sugar for a while, as of Halloween, so, the sweetness of the raisins was kinda' pleasant.  The only thing I'm really craving is an eggnog latte, but that was more power-of-suggestion, because I read a news story that mentioned it yesterday.

Sauteed kale and garlic (kale been around all week.)  And then made apple sauce because one of the apples I bought earlier today was unpleasantly mushy, which led to me finding more and more apples stowed here and there.  Anyway, there's a lot of it, and I'm waiting for it to cool down so I can go pay a bill and get out of the house.

I thought I had to work today, but found out I had the day wrong, and so had a day with no "shoulds" attached to it.

Working on three scenes for acting class, all from "Kramer vs. Kramer" (Joanna and Ted).  (Curiously, all of our scenes for the class are from movies, though one was a play first, "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf".)  I need to write out my script; I keep changing where Joanna's coming from, and my "wants" from last week are not necessarily relevant to where I'm at now.  The stakes are super high, she's not the kind of woman that takes leaving her child lightly.  In the first scene, I feel like the first half is like a check list you make for youself to check stuff off that you did, all the while knowing that even as it looks like you've accomplished something, you haven't done the ONE thing that you had to do.  In this case, she's telling Ted that she's not taking Billy (their son) with her when she goes.  And then when that comes out, she has to convince herself that he's better off without her.  Because that's the choice: herself or her son?  And she says that if she stays, she'll kill herself, so, her choice is to leave.  (If you believe that the words are true for the character when they say them.  And I do.)  This is week four or five?  I can't remember.  Psychologically, logically, I understand it.  Emotionally, I'm still trying to find how to get there.  How I get there.

Still haven't figured that out.

Transition

It was so dark this morning, I convinced myself my housemate had left earlier than normal and I didn't need to get up yet.  When I finally did check the clock, it was long past the time I should've gotten up.  Past the time to catch the bus to work.  And so, I guess I won't mind the impending time change and afternoon darkness quite so much.

Mid-autumn.  Scorpio season.  Halloween and All Saints' Day.  When people believed (believe?) the veil between this earthly life and whatever exists after death runs thin.  And we touch or glimpse the unknown, the things we fear the most.

I was watching a video on YouTube about how we have a light and shadow side, as does everything, and if we don't address the shadow, it expresses itself anyway, and if we are able to look it squarely in the face, we can learn from it and be inspired; or at least become aware of why we do the things we do, behave the way we do, respond as we do, without necessarily wanting to.  Understand more what has become ingrained behavior, and maybe decide it's not inevitable, we can change.

And the show from last weekend dealt with death.  I go back and forth in my mind whether or not the character had already died and the conversation was in a holding place after death, where one lets go; or if she was hallucinating it all at a point before death, and dies in the end.  Either way, there was a final transition of letting go at the very end.

Working on the show, and listening, experiencing what I could from the process and from backstage, didn't make me depressed.  It made me feel super alive, and happy, and in love with the world, especially all the people involved.  Someone said something about the going from two people to a crowd, and I can't remember what they said exactly, but there are two people, then the sensory deprivation, and beams of light that rise from the wings like sun (or a double sun, so that it washes away the darkness) and lights that twinkle like stars from the ceiling and a rising song, all before the HYPERCUT crowd (us) comes on stage...I don't know, the last couple of times I experienced that transition, the gentleness of it, like coming out of a long, dark tunnel, a long dark, night (out of the lonely dark, and into light and company) was so moving to me.  That someone designed that: it was perfect.  It made me cry.  (Of course, then I got disoriented on one of my very last exits, smacking hard into one of the main performers-I apologized later.  Hurt so bad, I missed my last entrance, standing in the wings in a daze. - Every transition happened in blackout.)

And what seemed like it had been longer than a week (barely a week), was suddenly over.

And it's on to the next thing.  (And autumn shows us how to let go, and move on.)  And I want that next thing.  I live for this.

Sore but Grateful

I woke up feeling, "Maybe I'm getting too old for this?"  Or at least feeling old in my body.  Probably got a decade on rest of performers.  Or, perhaps I'm just out of shape.

Get to be a part of this performance piece this week.  We've been in rehearsals all week.  When I applied, the qualification was being comfortable "running in the dark and hitting a mark on stage."  Which essentially is what we're doing, I suppose it's the daily six-to-eight hours of that that's hard.  On the upside, I'm sleeping like a rock.

I'm part of an ensemble in a section called "HYPERCUT" that is recruited locally for each city the show runs, and learns the choreography the week of the performance.

Still, super grateful to be working on this, with this group of people.

Our first show is tonight.

Andrew Schnieder's "AFTER" at On the Boards.  (Second piece of a trilogy.  They performed the first one, "YOUARENOWHERE" last weekend.)

How the days go

I've taken too much on.

In the morning the fog rises just enough to hover over the fields. And the sun sets the red hickory's golden leaves aflame, but no one seems to notice. Passing through stone-faced and looking at nothing in particular.  I've stopped pointing it out.  Two days later, already the top of the tree has turned to brown, and the all the leaves had darkened, soon they will fall to the ground.  People aren't ready for beauty.  I remember once, on a sight-seeing boat trip to a tulip festival, two eagles circled a giant eagle statue as we passed through the channel.  I pointed it out, but no one seemed interested, until it was announced over the intercom system. Once officially sanctioned, they flocked over to see it.  Have we become so programmed in our daily lives (because we have to, and should do, so many things) that we don't see, or hear, or taste, or sense anything without prior vetting?

Someone unexpectedly asked if I had seen the meteor shower, I had forgotten about it  He asked someone else, who also had not.  Maybe he was just trying to connect, but he reminded me of me.

So before I went to bed, I opened the blinds and cracked the window, in order to look for shooting stars.

A fragment of a thing

You're dirty. You smell.  21 days wearing the same clothes will do that to you. You're also hungry, so you head toward the only place open for blocks and blocks. It's fancy, but you forget about how you appear, and you have money.  You feel entitled to eat. 

You enter, the hostess comes over after you stand at the counter for an uncomfortably long pause, perhaps they were hoping you'd leave, but you don't. You order coffee and a pastry.  It's a fancy dessert.  After you pay, she suggests that you might want to sit outside. You look behind you at the room, mostly empty, saved a smartly dressed table having drinks, a business lunch. Late. You hoist your pack and walk back out through the doors to the nice, but separate patio. 

You muster up some dignity, as you sit alone and wait. Think to yourself, "You don't know what I'm like in my other life. I'm not like everyone else. We'd probably have things in common. Under better circumstances."  But you don't say it.

In another life you're a: Teacher. Doctor. Lawyer. Own your own business. Bartender. Waiter. Stay-at-home mom. Carpenter. Cook. Artist. Singer. Writer.  You run meetings.  You do volunteer work. You drive a car.  You walk your dog.  Go to concerts.  You remember people's birthdays.  But now you're the same as everyone else they see.  A vagabond, traveler, pilgrim, hiker, taker, entitled.  21 days out, wearing the same clothes, clothes that don't come all that clean in the infrequent washing in the sink.  Clothes and pack straps soaked in days of sweat and miles of dust.  Any sense of stratification has long ago been stripped away, it's easy bonding with fellow travelers.  But you're not with them now.

You sit outside and relish your dessert.  Are you being judged for how you spend your money? After all, you could've had a cheap beer and sandwich like everyone else, but you have the money, and you wanted to treat yourself. You wanted to remember who you used to be.  You want to be the exception, you're not like all the others!  But you are.  You're an exile.  An outsider.  No longer unique, and you have now been cast outside normalcy, outside the city walls.  

You have become the Other.

To be continued (not immediately)...

What I Did Read

In order of finishing, though not including all the books I started and got bogged down in, but didn't finish.

1)  Franny and Zooey - J. D. Salinger
2)  Things that Make White People Uncomfortable - Michael Bennett
3)  Not That Bad-Dispatches from Rape Culture - Roxane Gay (ed)
4)  Born a Crime - Trevor Noah
5)  Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone - J.K. Rowling (The giant illustrated version which was fun to read.  And first time I'd read any of them, never really in my demographic.)
6) The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe - C.S. Lewis (Read before, but I needed to read something hopeful.)
7)  Girls Like Us - Gail Giles (Young adult.)
8)  Big Little Lies - Liane Moriarty (Recommended by a friend, and also, lighter than most of what I'd been reading, so a nice break.)
9)  Navigating Early - Clare Vanderpool (Young adult.)
10) Bitch Planet Book Two, President Bitch - DeConnick, Kelly Sue (Graphic Novel.  Read while doing laundry at a friend's house because our dryer had been out for weeks.)
11) Secondhand Time - The Last of the Soviets - Svetlana Alexievich
12) New Poets of Native Nations - Heid E. Erdrich (ed) (Another book that was a joy to read. And second favorite thing I read this summer.)
13) Calypso - David Sedaris (My favorite of his.  I appreciate the honesty.)
14) Encounters with the Archdruid - John McPhee (A book I put on a hold list, and then realized I had for years, and hadn't ever gotten around to reading, so I did.)
15) Razor Girl - Carl Hiaasen (Mystery.  The category of which made me confused on if this was or not, and then I thought, "Well, every book you haven't read is essentially a mystery, or you'd never keep turning the pages to see what happens next.  And yes, the genre is something else.  But...)
16) Yes Please - Amy Poehler (Far and away my favorite thing I read all summer. Struck a chord.)

Turned in all the rest of the partially read, and picked up Carrie Fisher's Shockaholic and finished that...I think I would have enjoyed knowing her.

Summer Part II

And for Part II: Whidbey Island (Oak Harbor, Dugualla Bay, Deception Pass State Park.) Days of heavy smoke from all the surrounding wildfires.

Pier in Downtown Oak Harbor, August 15/L Herlevi 2018

Roadside Poppies, Dugualla Bay, August 14/L Herlevi 2018

Northbeach, Deception Pass, August 14/L Herlevi 2018

Nature Trail, Cranberry Lake, August 14/L Herlevi 2018

Where the Sea Meets the Sky, August 14/L Herlevi 2018

Nothingness, W Beach, August 14/L Herlevi 2018

Summer

Keep trying to write, and then running out of steam.  In the meantime, some pictures of my summer. Part I: Mt. Rainier and the North Cascades. On Mt. Rainier it was cool, and cloudy with expected thunder storms (and relief from the smoke and heat.)  In the N. Cascades, the smoke was at hazard level, and it was around 90 degrees F.

Mt. Rainier Nat'l Park, August 11/L Herlevi, 2018

Meadow in Cloud, Mt. Rainier, August 11/L Herlevi 2018

Electric Forest, N Cascades, August 15/L Herlevi 2018

Newhalem, August 15/L Herlevi 2018

Newhalem, August 15/L Herlevi 2018

No more rush to finish a book

Was trying for the blackout in the Library Book Bingo again this year.  Blackout is 24 books.  Even though the deadline is technically Tuesday, and even though I technically could have finished a couple more books by then, I decided to turn in what I had today.  It was kinda' fun to do last summer, I was immobile for most of it with foot injuries, so had lots of time to read.  I finished 16 (I think) this summer, and got part-way through about eight others.  Several of those I just returned, I'll probably do the same with the rest.  It's good for me to be more aware of where I'm giving my time/energy/money/life.  I don't think I have any obligation to finish books that had become a chore to read, take on work that wasn't mine to carry, etc.  I'd like to not always find myself buried in the weeds; I'd like to begin to follow the good, good for me.  Believe I'm allowed to have good things.  It started to feel like a requirement, even if I put it on myself, and it's the end of the summer, a beautiful weekend, and I want to enjoy it.  This is all new territory, and good for me to be aware of; to put into practice.  (Also, I have had a headache for a good day now, and don't want to read anymore.  Partially, earlier dehydration, partially, possible food-born illness, lite.)

I will say though, I like participating in the challenge.  It helps nudge me to get around to reading books that I've been meaning to read for a while.  I like getting suggestions from friends.  I like that the categories expand my horizons, get me out of my reading auto-pilot.

Pretty much all new housemates as of this weekend (except the man that lives next door to me.)  So far, the household feels pretty social again, that past year was very anti-social overall.  Fingers crossed things work out well.  For all my complaints, my landlord does often find good people to move in (there have been a few scary people, but that's been true every place I've lived.)  I'm guardedly optimistic.

I should go to the garden, been over a week since I've been.  Planted beans, and had a nascent cantaloupe, should see if it's still around.

How it feels

Summer is winding down, and I wonder where the time went.  The heat continues, making the attic unbearable to sleep in.  Everyone has moved out of the house, save the one I like living with the most.  And we'll clean it all out, and it all begins again.  Feeling inner elation.

Here are a couple of pictures from 2017.  I don't feel melancholic, but there's still an appeal in that idea for me.  It's an end of summer, and a change in the weather signalling it's time for a new beginning, a new year to start.  I can start again.

Following the light, March 31/L Herlevi, 2017

Melancholy, March 31/L Herlevi, 2017

As of late

Woke up at 7, thinking it was 4 am because it was overcast, realized quickly I needed to get to work.  Had been having a dream where I was in a job interview that my mom had applied me for that I didn't know about, wasn't prepared for, wasn't dressed for, and a job a definitely didn't think I was qualified for (it was either a principal of a school, or a journalist...I could probably have pulled off the journalist thing).  I tried to come up with an answer to why they should hire me as a principal, and came up with some answer about being an outsider and shaking things up.  The interview was in a community center, all the chairs were set up in a circle, there were maybe 30-50 people there to ask me questions.  Right before I woke up, I leaned over to my mother and asked her if there was anything I should know about the job, and she said, "I told them you were 24."  (Wouldn't they figure it out that I wasn't?) I woke up before I got to answer any questions.  Curious as to what my dream me would've come up with.

Other recent things.  Saw an owl sitting on the ground while I was walking around at lunch yesterday, looking for a place to sit and read.  I was actually looking for rabbits.  Eventually, it raised itself up and flew into a nearby tree.  Seeing it during the middle of the day, and on the ground, was odd.  But it didn't seem in distress or injured, at any rate.  That was unexpected.  Saw a river otter surface and munch on a fish a couple weeks ago when I was walking near Lake Washington.  And then a short distance further, a bull frog.

Went to the beach on Saturday to muck around in the low tide.  The eel grass is way more extensive than it was last time I was there, hard to avoid, very little open sand.  I saw sea cucumbers (which I somehow originally missed, and then noticed through my camera lens while taking a picture of a worm), and then I found them everywhere; ochre starfish, sea anemones, barnacles, a live moon snail, wooly chitons, limpets, and lots of different seaweeds.  Got sunburned, too.  And probably food poisoning somewhere down there, was sick all the next day.

Low Tide, Golden Gardens, July 8/L Herlevi 2018

Sea Cucumber, July 8/L Herlevi 2018

Golden Gardens, July 8/L Herlevi 2018

Saw a friend I last saw four years ago, and probably not for 15 years before that.  Another friend invited me along to see him and his wife who are in town briefly for a visit.  I had some anxiety about it, kinda' dumb, he'd been one of my best friends in college, but we'd fallen out of touch.  It was good.  Eye-opening: reminded me of how it is when someone loves you openly, doesn't withhold, isn't punishing...when someone makes the choice to love you.  Attraction might not always be a choice, but love is.  I made a choice at 21, and I would probably make the same one again, but damn, it's nice to know someone loves you.  (It was always mutual, if not romantic.  It's the value, the worthiness recognized in the other.  He always treated me as if I was an equal, that I mattered.)  Meantime, "too busy" feels like "not choosing you."  Everyone is busy.  Everyone makes choices.

Cheers.

The week

I had a really good tomato salad on toasted baguette this morning.  It had the perfect balance, and I find I want no other taste, so I guess I'm satiated.

I felt an embarrassment of riches yesterday, and I prepared a bunch of food, but ate leftovers.  Half motivated.  Mostly stayed off-line, so even though I slept a good chunk of the day, I also managed to read, clean the bathroom, wash laundry (so, it'd have time to air dry...our dryer has been busted a good two out of the past eight months), go grocery shopping.  Feels decadent and productive; I blew off any expectations, feeling buried in "shoulds."

On Saturday, I took my sheets over to a friend's house to use his washer/dryer, as my drying rack can't accommodate them, and I'd been having night sweats and really needed to wash them.  Was holding out for the landlord to come through, but he just sent out a link to a laundry mat.  Sigh.  We went out for dumplings while the wash ran.  (The food was wonderful.)

I woke up on Friday morning with the right side of my throat swollen, as if I had inhaled an insect in my sleep and it had become lodged somewhere in my sinus tract.  Hurt to talk.  Hurt to swallow.  Went to work anyway because I needed to take care of some project stuff, but then went home after three hours.  Dosed up on elderberry syrup and tea and listened to the radio.  On Saturday morning, it hadn't improved, debated with self if I should go to a pharmacy and see if someone could run a test for strep.  Went for a walk instead, to visit the lake.  A misty rain greeted me when I got there.  Walked anyway.  Went to the farmers' market.  Smacked my head with a glass bottle because I forgot I was carrying it in my bag, and threw the bag over my head in an attempt to evade a crow's angry dive.  Made plans to meet my friend, and by the time he stopped by to pick me (and my laundry) up, the throat pain was fading.  By the time we finished lunch, it was gone.

Last week was rough.  Part of me thinks that throat pain was collective grief.

The prior Friday I gone to a professional baseball game, I've only ever gone to one other, and all I remembered about that was that we were in nosebleed seats, and the most interesting thing that happened that night was as giant carrot walking through the bleachers and people scrambling to get a picture with it.  I'd been on the fence about going again, but I think I'd said I was interested, and someone sent me a ticket in the mail, so that sealed it.  Anyway, this one was really fun.  I know next-to-nothing about baseball, but the people on either side of me were fans, and seemed happy to explain what was going on.  It was a good game, too.  We won, and there was a fireworks show after.

Saturday morning, a man in my basement told me my housemate was in jail for assault.  He was a friend who'd been staying with her in our house for a while, I guess.  I had to work at On the Boards, so I let it go.  While at work, I got a series of frantic texts from one of my other housemates, regarding the person I'd met earlier.  I don't know what's true, but my housemate was trying to get a hold of our landlord to get the locks changed.  Across the board, all eight shows of the NWNW were fantastic, but I was overly distracted during the final showcase because I was trying to figure out if it was safe to go home, and I was having trouble reaching anyone.  Finally, one of the men who lives next to me, told me he was home and would be home all night, so I wouldn't be home alone.  The housemate who'd been in jail, had moved out earlier in the day, but the stranger still had access to our house.  It was late when I arrived home, but without incident.

On Sunday, I went to the zoo, to get out of the house.  The landlord finally stopped by and changed the locks.  I called home for Father's Day.  Got some difficult news.

Monday, the head of my work area called me over, said he needed to talk to me.  My colleague's (and friend) partner had been killed on Sunday.

On Wednesday, my boss called me over, and told me another colleague/friend's mother had been killed in a car accident on Tuesday.

On Wednesday or Thursday, my sister contacted me regarding my parents.

I started reading a book of essays about sexual assault, "Not that Bad," Roxane Gay, and another book of first-hand experiences regarding the changes in the USSR/Russia since 1991, "Secondhand Time," Svetlana Alexievich, and seeing parallels.  And I kept finding myself holding my breath while I was reading, so much so that I had to keep forcing myself to inhale.

So, grief?  Yeah.  And I cried some last week for my friends, and for myself.  But I don't feel a great need to cry, and I don't know what to do about the grief.  It isn't overwhelming, still, solid, and assertive in the pain.  Maybe it only needed to be acknowledged.  So I did.  But I also want to take pleasure in things, like the feel of the sun, or the breeze, or the rain, or the perfectly balanced flavor of the salad.  To be present, and take care of what I can, and only that.  I'm trying to learn how to not dissolve into someone else's needs.  I'm trying to learn to stop losing track of myself.  I'm trying to learn to stay visible and real to myself.

Sunday

The crow gets me as soon as I get to the sidewalk, swoops down from the apartment roof across the street, just when I think the coast is clear.  The baby is in the tree just beyond our front steps.  I went to the coffee shop to write, first time in a long while.  A crow was waiting again for me, this time in the alley as I made my way back home.  Right before the walkway to the back door, I was greeted with a sudden agitated cawing.  I tossed out a piece of an omelette I was carrying, it appeased a different crow, one I wasn't aware of, who dropped down out of the neighbor's yard to snag it, but I was able to get into the house.  Can hear angry cawing outside, down the street; another interloper to ward off.  Sigh.  I'll need to get a big hat or something.

49 degrees this morning: Junuary, indeed.  High today is only 60 F.  My watermelons sprouted a couple weeks ago, but have been dormant since.  Now it's too cold to transplant.  Had a staged reading last night.  Our call was 7 pm, left with what I thought was sufficient time, and decided to take the light rail rather than the bus, as bus got stuck in traffic and I was late to rehearsal earlier in the week.  Made it to the U-District by bus on way to the light rail station, only to be stuck in traffic once again, having forgotten that it had been the UW's graduation earlier in the afternoon.  Beat the predicted rain, or so I thought, and made it to the International District with a little time to spare, so walked to Pioneer Square for coffee, and as soon as I got to the counter to order, I looked out the windows to see people covering their heads and cowering under awnings in the sudden downpour.  So I got drenched afterall.  At least the plants I have in the ground are getting adequately watered.

Wanted to stay for the talk-back after the reading (the play was about Enron and it's aftermath), but didn't relish waiting at my bus stop Downtown late, so, asked a friend that was leaving for a ride.  He was taking a car share.  Put in both our addresses before his phone died.  Driver took him home, but the reservation had dropped my address.  My friend got out of the car and left me there, not concerned if I got home safely or not, saying some incoherent thing about his cat being outside.  Making me feel like I shouldn't have taken him up on his offer to be able to ask him for a ride.  I guess it should've been enough that he showed up to the show (I appreciate that, I do.)  The driver said he'd take me home if it was less than two miles, which it was, so he did.  I could've walked, I suppose, but I appreciated him taking me home: it was late, deserted, and there's an unavoidable sketchy stretch.  I made it home.

Have notes for myself regarding the performance, but it's all a learning experience, and it was fun.  Makes me want to make more of an effort to do it more.  I have so much to catch up on.  Finally have the energy, and the time.  (Bought workshop access, online, months ago, that I haven't had the energy to devote myself to, but am finally coming back into clear enough mental space...three of them, actually.)

The wind is kicking up, I can see trees waving, and birds flying close to the window.  I'm working later today, but rains means I can stay inside until then...maybe the crows will let me leave the house in peace.

The rain has begun.

Monday

Well, the vote happened, and it passed.  We are now in unchartered land, and I suppose a shake-up will be good in the end...as someone said, "Sometimes you have to say 'Yes' and trust."  And of course, now that it's happened, I'm not anxious about any further outcome: the door to the past is shut, and the possibilities entangled with that outcome are gone.  Have been wrestling with the related anxiety for months.

Worked a concierge shift for the film festival on Saturday night.  It ended earlier than slated, and my driver drove me home, so that saved the cab fare.  It had been a sunny day, so I didn't think to bring a rain jacket when I left to catch the bus, but halfway to Downtown, a downpour hit, and if anything, it just kept raining harder.  I was drenched from the four blocks of walking by the time I got to the hotel lobby, looking like a drowned rat to check-in for my shift.  Luckily, the bathrooms had real towels.  Luckily, I could get out of it, some people had no place to shelter.

Went to this museum event after work on Friday, and a matinee of a play on Sunday, so no gardening done.  At least it rained, so, if the plants haven't been devoured by slugs, they should still be growing.  I'll be there a lot this week.  I can't believe it's already almost Memorial Day weekend, feel like we just had our last holiday, and were talking about how long until the next one was...three-and-a-half months ago.

Have a staged reading coming up, and will probably audition for this other upcoming performance piece.  And look into tap classes for the summer.

And need to make the time to figure out/write down for myself what I actually believe, want out of life, give myself an anchor.  And decide if my day-to-day life is really what I want and if it's working for me, and if I chose it, or fell into a groove and stayed on auto-pilot.  Maybe there's more.  Finding out is care of self, too.

Empty Space

Been on a cleaning binge.  Started at home because my landlord mentioned he was stopping by to do a safety inspection, and that included rooms, and my room was a disaster.  Then I was thinking I'd really like to get a bag of documents shredded, and happened to see something on facebook for a free shredding event in my neighborhood, so lugged them there, and got rid of that.  And then clothes I don't wear, and clothes that are beyond repair.  And I've been clearing out stuff at work for a remodel, and that got picked up this week...all the open space is making me feel more free, and I'm enjoying being home more (minus the ant infestation.  The landlord put out traps, but the heat has made them increase in spite of that.  It's gross.)

And I went out to dinner with a friend, we were going to talk about this oral history project (though I haven't had the energy to think much about it, been overextended for most of the year), but ended up talking about a vote that's coming up, and then I told him a couple of things I haven't wanted to admit to anyone, but he seemed like he might be receptive to hearing them, and I needed to say them to someone...get the secrets to not be secrets; release the weight of them.  To let go of the shame of what drove some choices I've made; shame of how I've let others treat me.

And in multiple, major, areas of my life, things will change, that's inevitable both in the general sense, but now in the specific.  I think I'll accept the change, but is it just my stubborness that's resisting?  What am I afraid of losing, exactly?  I haven't made the time to think about it, and now that moment to decide has arrived, on timelines decided by others.  Why am I so resistant?  (Had conversations with two friends tonight about it.  I really don't like change, but I also know we'll cease to exist if we don't do something different, possibly something radical.  And the opportunity is here.)

Enjoy every moment for what it is.  We can never get it back again.  How much time is it that we think we have to squander?  The only certainty is right now.

Tuesday

If any stars aligned, they were surely tricksters.  Maybe "soul mates" are people that force you to grow into who you were meant to be.

The sun rises now a little after 5 am.  The robin (maybe more than one, but the nearest one was quite dominant) begins it's song around 3, it loudly echos in the dark.  Other, more chatter-y birds, joined in for a while, closer to the house.  I woke up every hour last night, the room too hot to stay asleep.  Fell back asleep instead of getting up at 5:30, and woke up again, after 7 am, late, with lingering film in my mind from last dream, that may or may not have involved a mass kidnapping, never did figure it out, but there was a cult-like figure in charge, and I was making plans for escape.

Went to water late, waiting for the sun to drop behind the trees.  A bunch of kids came tearing through the garden playing "tag" in the fading light.  The heat and the laughter made me believe it was actually summer, but it's still spring, and a school night at that.

Later, 9-ish, walking out of the house to write, (and find some cooler air) and read up on what I'm supposed to be doing as a site leader, I found all the cafes closed early.  Crossed to the park, stopped by an opening of the trees to watch several bats darting over the lake, the first of the season for me.  The air is full now of insects in the evenings, more than I've ever seen here.  The water smelt like raw sewage, but I stood for a while anyway and watched the bats.  Walked back up toward the house, and stopped at the pub to write, because it was open, and always is rather cold inside.  Ordered soup (because it was the least expensive thing on the menu) and wrote.

I know I have my faults too, for one thing, I'm stubborn, and I have a hard time letting go of hurts and bridging the gap to make amends.  (Though, once cleared, I won't tend to bring them up again, unless it becomes a continual pattern.  And forgiveness sometimes includes walking away.)  And I'm not the woman I hope to be, but I can see glimpses of that now, which is hopeful.  At any rate, it wasn't all bad, and I don't mean to imply it was, there were some moments of real connection and deep conversation, and some support, and sometimes fun, and he could be really generous, just not in the way I needed (time, connection, communication, affection), and not often enough, and when we didn't connect and didn't try, it was painful; and I don't have the energy or desire to deal with mind-fuckery right now (whether actually intentional, resulting from cluelessness, or only received/perceived by me as such because of my own insecurities or baggage, or a combination of the three-the latter of which would call for self-examination for sure.  And was it a sabotage of yourself, of me, or just a passive way of pushing me away?)  Does any of that matter now?  I need to take care of myself for a while.  (For nine months though, I chose you every day.  You rarely chose me.)

Where things are

We are having a heatwave.  The attic is sweltering.  I've got 1/6 of my garden planted, I was going to do more today, but I have to figure out where to put all the trailing plants (squash, melon, cucumber...in the garden, my optimism remains intact), and decide if I want to grow anything else.  I started some seeds a few weeks back, but I didn't have anything to mark them with, so, I'll need to look up the leaves to see what's what (and at the seed packets to remember what I even planted.)

Hung out with some former Meisner classmates last night.  It was good, had some real conversations, people asked how I was, and I think they really meant it.  Anyway, late in the evening, I was laughing so hard I was crying (I had accidently rubbed sunscreen into my eyes, so that added to the watering).  I don't remember the last time I've laughed that hard...I don't remember the last time I really laughed much.  I haven't felt consistantly good in a long time, more a series of highs and lows, with short stints of an even keel (defined here as "good")...I like the even keel.  I want more of it.  I've been describing myself as "like an addict."  And it's not fulfilling for me.  I can't go on like this.  But how do I let go of something that doesn't exist?  Month after month without clarity. (And what was ever in it for him?)  At any rate, I need to take care of myself.  I haven't been.  I've been holding my breath, waiting for something external to be solid.  Maybe nothing ever is.

I have learned some things about myself, I've grown a lot and I'm grateful for that.  If anything, I've learned to appreciate myself more.  Love myself more.  (And I do love him, but that's not enough) and I am tired of being sad.  Tired of feeling invisible. Tired of aching, the lack of connection, the withholding, the feeling like a "duty."  (Feeling like time spent with me was something checked off a list because you had to.  Why then?  Asking me to be there, then pushing me away when I get there.  Saying you enjoy time with me, but acting as if you can't wait for me to leave.  Checking your phone, for the better offer that negates our time.)  Tired of thinking things will get better, of believing in "promises" (statements of intent?) and being disappointed in that when I trust in what was said, and it's suddenly pulled away (and that is my own fault, I know, but where are we without trust in what we say to one another?  How can you build any type of relationship without that basic grounding of trust?  Words are just sounds if they aren't true after you speak them.  Or  write them.  Without trust we're all adrift with every whim, without any direction or anchor.)  Tired of being last.  Tired of scraps (and how willingly I grab at them because something is better than nothing.  So also tired of my own lack of healthy boundaries.  Hearing about how good you've been to other people.  Other people are worth the good, and I get the bad because you've been hurt by someone else?)  Tired of vagueness, the non relationship.  Tired of not being worth honesty, feeling that it's not safe.  Tired of not being seen, not seen as having worth in me, the person in front of you.  Tired of secrecy, the squirrellyness.  Tired of my own insecurities.  Tired of poor communication (on both sides).  Tired of a lack of affection or warmth or genuine interest in me.  Tired of feeling dirty and untouchable.  Tired of settling for less than I want, and tired of believing that this is how life will always be, and that I should be happy for any attention at all, that mutuality is only for other people.  Tired of believing in a carrot that I follow into a future that will never happen.  Someday.  Was going to.  Next time.  We should.  In the future, a future that only exists in the words as they are spoken.  And maybe they are true in that moment, but they never become reality.  And I keep following them.  Believing them.  Until they dissolve back into the air.  And you're standing there saying it's time to go.

Known by its absence

The fog billowed in like smoke, temporarily obscuring the sky.  The air smelled like bbq.  So much traffic, dodging cars just to get to the bus stop.  The bartender introduced himself last night as I closed my dinner tab, I'm not quite a regular, but maybe I'm becoming one.  Sitting in the cafe to read and write, the latter not quite going as I'd hoped.  Practice.

Long walk at lunch, to check out the wildlife.  The osprey have returned, nesting on the designated platform created for them.  Circling and chirping over the water.  As I look toward the nest a heron flies low over my head to land in the near pond.  Possible sighting of a cinnamon teal a little further on, but too far to be certain.

Late in the day, I feel an absence and realize I've lost a necklace I just bought from a friend.  I loved the necklace.  I check lost and found after work, and then re-trace my entire walk from earlier in the day, backward.  It gets a second walk in.  The air is pleasant, the sun is shining, if dropping lower in the horizon.  Back in the Fill, an eagle chases an opsrey, but the latter is more agile in flight, and it banks and gains more and more distance.  Some crows join in and chase off the eagle.  A woodpecker knocks on a nearby tree.

I don't find the necklace.  Slightly sad about it, but maybe it wasn't meant to be mine, and I hope it found a new home.  Money is only an exchange of energy, not a guarantee of ownership.  I got a week of enjoyment from it, and a good walk and wildlife sighting.  This morning when I was telling a co-worker about it, my story was interrupted by a rabbit leaping down from a planter and coming to look at us through the glass door, and then hopping away again.  I guess we're trading sightings now: I usually go out to look for it.

Needed a dress.  Went to Goodwill.  Tried on a bunch, then as I was about to pay for one, found the rack of the nicer dresses, and then found one of those that fit...trade a necklace for a rabbit and a dress?  I guess so.

Ridiculous occupation of my thoughts

Woke up wanting to implement change.  Witnessing other people go through seismic changes, and realizing that I don't/can't stay the same forever, so what can I change now?

Other than that, the world could be crashing in on itself (people are needlessly dying, suffering, losing shelter, war, injustice, job loss, weather cycles messed up, etc), and I am completely consumed by thoughts of wanting lasagna.  Hit me at 5 pm yesterday, and occupying about 99% of me now.  I kid you not.  (And it's not like it's a comfort food for me, or something I've eaten all that much.  And I ate pasta last night, but that didn't relieve the craving.  And I can't make it tonight, I have rehearsal.  Ugh.)

Thursday

Every morning I awaken to the sound of bird song, usually a robin is the loudest.  Does this happen everywhere?  Makes for a pleasant alarm.

Today's rain drips thick and heavy, pooling like mercury, until the leaf flicks, and it suddenly drops down to soil.

I shake the thought that today is Friday.  It's not, been off all week.

I joined a protest, then joined a march, on one of the days where the sun shone.  For my lunch break.  Walking back to work, I saw the snow goose swimming in a fountain with the Canada geese.  When I returned later to take a photo, all the birds had flown away.

I went back to look again today, but found a small flock of ring-necked ducks in place of all the geese.  Nearby, the herons have returned to nest in the rookery for the season, and I came across my no-longer-mini rabbit for the third time this week, eating grass at the edge of a field.  Now that the crowds have receded, I guess it's safe to come out during the day again.

An old email system is being deleted, so I decided to look through it, see if I needed to save anything.  I was reminded that I had worked with a lot of amazing and compassionate people.  I wouldn't go back there, but it's good to remember.

Perhaps my eyes need to be more wide, more open, more seeing of what is there, and not always what I wish I saw.  That maybe we got lost here somehow, that it was really only catching up, a way to remember who we once were, and no longer are.  (And I wouldn't go back.  Life changes you, that's okay.  Who we've become really is enough.)

Oh, and that's an early call tomorrow.  Guess I'll be catching a cab.

Tired

I'm trying to finish a book: Patti Smith's "M Train."  I'm enjoying it, but slow about it: I think it must be past due by now.  It's a series of essays, related to one another, not necessarily linear, though, they could be.

Catching up on things, but there always seems to be more.  Have an acting thing at the end of the week that I'm looking forward to.  Hope to do it justice.  And more garden stuff to catch up on.  It's a lot of work, and I'm still tired.  The first phase of a work project got completed today, and someone else contacted me about a story project, so that might happen.  Several people I'm quite fond of at work are leaving soon, and we have a vote for the future of a central part of my life coming up.  Emotionally I'm drained, wavering between ache (which has been off and on for months) and defiance (why do I care? Still I find I do.)  Every day I have plans for my evenings, since there is extended light now, and every evening I just end up sleeping instead. 

These are basically two pictures of the same thing, but the light was glorious.

The Quad, April 10/L Herlevi, 2018

The light in springtime, April 10/L Herlevi, 2018

What I want most of all right now is to sleep.

Oh

Used.

(I don't know if that was his intention.  It's how I feel, regardless. The source of the rage.)

I give it a name, and it curls up and goes back to sleep.  (Though it doesn't clear the air.)

Still

Rage.  It's the emotion that causes women (typically) to be accused of being "psycho" by men (typically.)  Often the result of the former feeling: used, disregarded, unheard, unconsidered, ignored, etc. by the latter.  Whether that be deemed rational or not.  And it's easier to dismiss someone as psycho rather than dealing with what they need, that it might not all be on their irrationality.  That there might be a point, something unaddressed underneath it all.  That they feel invisible.

I can't even explain in any rational way why.  No one thing would warrant it in someone else's eyes.  It's, I suppose, not from what was said or done, but rather perhaps, what was not.  The not even on the radar consideration of how I feel.  That it's likely not going to be about me, or us, even if that had gotten better in recent weeks.  And again, not that that has to be there, but why have I stayed?  I was sure that I loved him.  Wanted to tell him.   Relationships default to who wants the least.  What makes me think that would change?  It's working for one of us. (Hence no reason to see a need or want the change.)

It's disempowerment.

So, there's that.

Tried to go to a Buster Keaton film tonight, but when I got there the door was locked.  The bus was late, but only by a couple of minutes, perhaps they cancelled it.  Walked back home for the exercise.

We have another ant infestation, can't figure out where they are coming from or where they are going, but they are crawling all over the silverware.  That'll be the rest of my night.  The other part was taxes, but those went fast.

After doing something

(My spell-check is in Spanish-that's not entirely on purpose-so everything is currently "misspelled".)

Had to go shovel manure after work.  We received a truckload for the garden last week, this was the first free time I've had, and it's supposed to rain tomorrow, so today seemed like as good a time as any.  My arm felt good enough to be able to both use a shovel to lift, and to move a wheel barrow; past few years it hasn't, so that's a plus.  Did some weeding for good measure, and turned some soil.  When I got home later, I saw that everyone is supposed to have begun working the plots as of April 1.  I should send out a reminder.  I finally have time to read my manual.  Someone complimented the meeting I ran.

Walk over to get a burrito, and visited the neighbor's chickens on the way back.  I like listening to chickens "talk", I find it really peaceful.  Went back to pick up my weeding to carry home, walked to bus stop, only to get there right as the bus was speeding past.  My feet didn't hurt too bad, so I walked home.

It was near sunset, the sky a pale gray with a dull peach along the horizon.  Silent.  Cherry trees blazing white in the dimming light.  Flowers bursting out everywhere: winter will be over.  The scent of vegetation.  In the silence, the buzz of a bee circling me is like a distant engine: loud and unexpected, and then just as suddenly it's gone.

I was calmer by the time I got home.  Still, I told him, via text, it upset me, the impersonal nature, the indifference to seeing me after two weeks.  Maybe not diplomatically.  Been the same cycle for months.  I'm tired of being his yo-yo.  He wants a relationship, he disappears.  He doesn't want a relationship.  He does, sorta', he disappears.

It's not the end of the world.  I like myself.  Whatever happens, I'll live.

Still tired

Oh, I'm feeling even more aggressive.  Would help to have somewhere useful to direct it, rather than wanting to rip someone's head off (and my job is working with the public, so it would be good if I didn't give into the impulse.) I can't focus, and then after saying I was exhausted, couldn't really sleep last night.  That'll get better, I think.  Finally took some magnesium this morning, and hoped I would wake up in time for work (turned on my phone to set an alarm, but it took so long to boot up, that I fell asleep in the meantime, but I did get to work on time.)

At one point I was asking for guidance and then later checked email (since I was already awake) and found I had received this email around 4 am which talked about what story you are telling yourself.  (The questions are: "Am I absolutely certain this story is true?" "How do I feel and behave when I tell myself this story?" and "What's one other possibility that might also make the ending to this story true?" It's from Marc and Angel's "Getting Back to Happy" blog.)  I don't really understand the third question, but in general, the questions help with all-or-nothing cycles of thinking.

Not only this, but a big part is feeling that one of us is more invested than the other.  One out of love, one apparently, as a business contract (and if only the latter, not a particularly fair one.  But at least I know what would be now.  Either way, I allowed myself to be used because I wanted/loved him, and he needed something from me, and so I'm mad at myself, too.)  I'm only responsible for what I want to do with that; for owning my expectations and disappointments.  For communicating better, at least from my end, whether or not they choose to listen.  For knowing what I want, and saying it.  For stop trying to prove my worth: people value you or they don't; you matter to them, or you don't.  It's all a choice, what or whom you choose to care or focus on; what or whom you love.  I'm not sure you can change that (how someone else values you) without selling your soul.

And sadly, none of this makes me any less pissed off. (The impersonal nature of the communication since he's gotten back...among other things.)  I wish I were.  (I also wish I could remember how this feels when I need it for acting, but I don't.  When it goes away, it will be gone.)

(And on a completely unrelated note, but one that relieves anxiety, just paid off a third bill that's been hanging over my head for a while.)

Back home

One last morning with the wide open view to the west: moon set, clear sky, snow-capped mountain range.  Glorious.

Saturday was a perfect "summer" day, though it cooled off quite fast.  Tried to sit outside to read, but kept getting too hot.  Sunday brought thunder storms, and three separate bouts of hail.  Every time I thought I could make a run for it to take my stuff back home, another bout hit.  Finally just went anyway, and hit a lull in the weather.  It needed to get done.

Still have more to carry home.  I've had three brief stints at home over the past couple of weeks.  It's a mess, and I have stuff I need to catch up on.  The dog seemed to know I was leaving this morning.  The cat has resorted to licking throw pillow (kinda' mindlessly) until I pulled them away to get him to stop.  One of them is kicking cat litter around.  (I've cleaned up everything but that, it's just the litter, not any pet waste.  Only so much time.)

I feel like I've been working the equivalent of three jobs for the past couple of weeks: my regular job, the house/pet sitting, and a combo of the two choir commitments/garden leadership, and maybe getting four hours sleep a night.  I'm exhausted.  Wiped out.  Burned out.

I was super frazzled yesterday morning (translate to blunt and tart), a friend caught that and came and talked to me for a while (mostly just to see that I was okay.)  When I got back to the house, I called my parents, and then had a message from someone else wishing me a "Happy Easter" which was nice, since they don't share my beliefs.  And by that point was super emotional, and burst out crying.  (Like at Thanksgiving, only no memory or thought tied to it.  Emotional release, I guess.  Couldn't pin it to any one thing.)

I'm not thinking straight.  I probably just need to get some sleep.

Easter

Happy Easter!

Where I was last Easter.

Santibanez de Valdeiglesias to Astorga, April 16/L Herlevi 2017

I need to sleep more

I must've been asleep at some point.  I was suddenly aware of the sound of bird song, a robin, loudest, singing (which I realize I haven't heard in ages, the ones I've heard recently were chirping) and a quieter bird that has stopped.  The dog was staring at my face.

Outside it was still dark, quiet, aside from the bird.  The full moon dropping down over a pair of cedar trees to the west, in a clear sky.  A light drifting silently southward, an airplane.  The communication towers blinking red in the distance, and street lamps sending light toward the ground below from where I am looking.

The cat is sitting staring at me from the end of the bed.  I have a brief dashed hope that it is a weekend, but somehow that doesn't jibe, and I decide it must be Tuesday (?)  I really haven't been getting much sleep...it is actually Saturday.  I want to sleep more now that the dog is no longer shoving me over the edge of the bed.  The cat smacks my arm: they are ready to be up.

I follow them downstairs, let the dog out.  Let him in, go back upstairs to try to sleep a little more and I close the door on them (I can hear them on the other side) and establish only my second boundary in over a week.  (My first was last night, when I kenneled the dog so that I could actually cook and eat something.)  When I'm here, they are both pretty much joined at the hip to me.  The only time alone I've had is in the bathroom.

I enjoy their company.  But I might as well learn to have some boundaries.  Funny that it took a dog to teach me that.

I hope they don't tear up the house.

Sick dog

Unexpected day off, woke up to find the dog had vomited at some point during the night, and then did again.  I can't leave him home sick.  I am thankful I have leave.  I made him special food, (rice/broth/baby food) which he did eat, and he perked up briefly to try to beg me for my food, but has mostly been sleeping.  I'm watching to check if he drinks, but as I haven't been home with him during the day, I don't know what normal for him is.  I'm keeping an eye on him.  Hoping he'll get better on his own, without a vet visit, but have that info if needed.

I've had so little sleep.  My mind is pretty blank.  Maybe I'll try writing while I sit around.  If I sit on the couch, the dog wants me to cuddle with him. (And at 60-70 lbs, he's big for a lap dog...but he's sweet.)  The cat is hiding out in the basement.

It's breezy, cold, and overcast out.  Lights swing outside the window.  Across the way, flowering quince, and an apple tree are in full bloom.  There were a few people in the grocery store when I went to buy rice and baby food for the dog.  Otherwise, it feels so empty.  I have the local news on for company.  It's so quiet of people sounds: just wind, and the movement of trees against the house, and possibly freeway traffic.  I'm feeling an inner obstinance to writing.  Why everything you want to get better at is a daily practice: do it even if you don't feel like it, are uninspired.  Inspiration may never come.  I should turn off the tv and bear the silence, get to it.

On a tangent

I had to run errands after work, and letting the dog out of the kennel for a bit.  Managed to not do the first couple things on the list, and the reason I went to the store in the first place, so will have to find time before tomorrow morning.  I have a singing gig tonight.

Anyway, I walked home to get the music for the gig.  By the time I headed back out, this massive dark sky had built up, and it looked like it would rain soon, so I tried to hurry, not that I could out-walk a storm, but you know, to limit the drenching.  I did beat it, and then I forgot about it once I started cooking dinner, feeding the pets, etc.  They were unconcerned when the lightning, thunder, and hail finally struck, finding themselves much more interested in watching me cook and waiting to see if I would share with them.  I'm gonna have to start eating in the bathroom.

The dog is still moping, wishing, I suppose that I would turn into his person, but I don't.  They did let me sleep with my legs stretched out, so that was progress.  The dog jammed his face in my armpit at one point, but thankfully, quickly resorted to putting a paw on me for safe keeping instead.  They held their respective territories until morning.  I got a little bit of sleep.  Passing storms woke me up off and on: rain and branches hitting and creaking against the windows, the sound of wind.

It's been snowing this morning, the clumps falling in the rain, vanishing as they touch down.

When the sky cleared, March 23/L Herlevi 2018

Later, the sun came out, people began returned to the rain-soaked Quad.  I rushed home to let the dog out before the singing gig, and then rushed home after, to let him out again: been long stretches.  Both of the pets were stir crazy tonight, and he and I had a stand-off; he frightened me a bit, so I walked away from him.  Now he's pouting.  (I don't know him well enough to know what the behaviors mean.)

The singing gig was part of a discussion regarding the continuation of the Finnish Lutheran Church in Seattle.  I don't have say in the matter, but joining the community through the choir changed my life for the better, got me in touch with a part of me I didn't know about.  Would be a huge loss for me, but like many groups (religious, cultural, language, stories, to name a few) now, too few people are trying to hold things together, and many of those people are elderly; if you can't get vibrant multi-generational involvement, the communities will dissolve.  The visiting pastor from Finland recently asked an Estonian interpreter what the Finns could learn from the Estonians, where, when under Communist rule, religion was banned (as were traditional songs), and she said, "Don't lose the tradition."  And that made me think of all that we're losing now, all the knowledge (language, cultural, stories, histories, species, genes, diversity) we are losing every day.  When they are gone, we can't get them back.  Why are we so willing to let them go?  What would we be willing to fight for?  What would it take to get us to care?  How do you have a cohesive society that's multi-cultural, without recessing to the blandest common demoninator?  How do you survive in multiple worlds, or is that even possible?  And if you can do it, where do you fit in?  (I'm all over the place with this, apologies.  I think about this a lot.  I'm writing down so that I can wrestle with it more.)

Life with Pets

Change in the weather, March 22/L Herlevi 2018

In the morning, a change in the weather, the sky is pouring down rain, and it's colder.  Big pools of standing water in the Quad, only one person visiting the trees to take pictures when I hurry through: soaked and late.  The sound of the rain on the cherry blossoms was pleasant, different than the sound on leaves, a softer patter, I guess.

By afternoon the rain has let up, but the air was chilly.  I went out to visit the trees, but the coolness and flatness of the light kept the visit short.

What a difference a day makes, March 22/L Herlevi 2018

Was looking forward to spending time with the pets, and still am, but they don't really know what to make of me.  I think the cat is better with it than the dog.  The dog misses his person, and eyes me warily.  When I let him out, he sits on the porch and gazes at the street, waiting.  Or maybe he always does that.  He also hits me with a paw, but I'm not sure what that means.  I don't think he dislikes me, I'm just not who he wants me to be; and perhaps he's having separation anxiety.  They both slept on me.  I didn't get much sleep, but it made me feel more secure.

And because it's raining hard, I decided I should clean up after him sooner rather than later.  I decided that after I had locked the door and was heading for work.  So, I put my work bag down and grabbed a bag to pick it up.  I guess there was a hole in it, and I ended up getting dog poo on both my hands.  Stood there a moment trying to figure out how I could wash them, since the house key was already in a pocket, and finally grabbed another plastic bag, and put my hand in it so I could get the key and open up the door.  Washed them about 10 times, and then used a disinfectant wipe on my hands when I got to work.  I'm sure they're clean enough, it's just kinda' gross.  I'll live.

Other than that, it's strange (as always) to be living in someone else's house, to imagine a different life, to witness a different reality.  But also, since it's not my regular space, it clears my head, and helps me look at my own life from a bit of distance.  Always an interesting space to occupy, like a vacation, though I do need to find some time to get back to my own house...I don't want to yet.

Around and About

Spring has arrived.  Birds sing, the trees are in full blossom.  The heat was off in the morning, but late in the day, coming in from the coolness of the afternoon and walking back inside the door, the air felt like a fever: dry, hot, claustrophobic.

Anxiety (and a bit of anger) and things that need to be cleared up keep me awake throughout the night, most nights.  And I've been having bizarre dreams for weeks now: sad, disturbing, unfinished, vivid.

Guess I could get up and do something useful instead of stewing.

I took on a leadership role, and then suddenly had to be the one to make a major decision without gathering input (which would be my style, but time was short.)  Bunch of singing commitments coming up, (along with a longish, last minute house/pet-sitting request/favor-at the same time as everything else) and then there will be a break for a while, first time in months.  It'll be brief, but it's nice to have the breathing space.

Some photos from recent days, the ones I like best were all black and white.

The Trees Say it's Spring, March 15/L Herlevi 2018

All the Lights, March 14/L Herlevi, 2018

Stillness, March 14/L Herlevi 2018

Paper Flowers, March 14/L Herlevi 2018

In Trees, March 17/L Herlevi 2018