Thursday afternoon I was lucky enough to get a ride with a total stranger to camp. We had a nice drive to the Sierra Nevada mountains. It is a bit mind blowing to be in Fresno at about 400 feet above sea level and the next time you see a sign you're at about 1500. In increments of about 10 minutes while driving we were quickly at 2000, 3000, and 4000. The camp itself is at about 4500.
Unfortunately I foolishly thought it would be easy breezy to use my phone to get on the internet, now that this site has cell coverage - previously no carrier had a signal up here. I should have tested things and figured it out while still in Berkeley. An ounce of forethought would have saved me 17 tons of anxiety and I would not have lost 10 hours (at least!) of solid work time. Sleep was hard to come by, tossing and turning on the air mattress I gave up and was out of bed at 4am Friday morning. It was a total disaster and I was unable to work until Friday around 2pm, campers were to begin to check in at 4:30.
The upside is that I was able to work finally, no campers really noticed there was any snafu, and by Saturday evening by 7:30pm I had caught up on work for Dance New England for a delayed deadline. Napping in the late afternoon increased my productivity and my mood. Even better is that I got some dancing in the first night, and tonight. Tonight, even better than dancing was this lovely stretching session I had on the dance floor. Being in my body, stretching, with moving bodies, excellent music surrounding me is like a form of meditation. I didn't even realize how much I had gone to another place until I was done and rising from the floor. It is amazing to feel the body respond in such a short period of time; this gives me hope that I can get back to a greater level of flexibility if I just can do this consistently.
Tonight it so much colder, the temperatures started dropping around 6:30. It's funny I just looked up the actual weather and by my east coast dance camp standards it's ridiciously warm but quite some time ago I noticed how different one temperature can feel based on so many things. Tonight I think I will be wearing a hat as well as clothes while in my sleeping bag.
In general I feel comfortable here, comfortable here as a single person - when was the last time I was at a dance camp single?? Way longer than I want to acknowledge. This camp is about half the size of my other one which makes it sweet and contained. I think it's a good way for me to reintegrate into myself to where I am now in the world. It occurred to me that I have danced in four states since being on my own - New Paltz at the Frolic, twice; Dance Friday in Boston; Club Masque in Dayton; and now at NCDC. This is so much better a life style for me!
Tonight I was talking to a friend here at camp, someone who I really clicked with last year - almost like a sister I forgot I had or a childhood friend happily rediscovered - upon telling her that I left Ohio on the spring equinox she noted that we were at the summer solstice hence I have moved through a season. What a wonderful observation and what a season it has been! It is a little mind boggling to realize I have been on this new path for 3 months, literally and figuratively. I am feeling more inside, more in touch with myself and at the same time more expansive with my interactions with other people. This is all really good, and good to remember when the moments of sadness take over, when the doubt settles in and when the unmoored feeling disorients me.
Peace out!
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Sunday, June 14, 2009
If it makes you happy
Then why the hell are you so sad?
That is today question. Leaving Dayton was extremely hard, not because I didn't want to be done, but because I was done. A chapter is now closed. Certain hard truths came to light that challenged me, and will continue to, in my last days there.
I have been in California since Tuesday, staying with Glamour Gal and her amazing beau. Since then I have shopped, gossiped, worked, and began to tell those hard truths. Yesterday I went to see my dear friends from graduate school since my visit fortuitously coincided with the residential conference. It has been two years since I saw them, at which time I was on the brink of moving to Ohio, and now I have left there. I cannot begin to tell you how amazing it was to see Sandra, Scott, Jennifer, Priscilla, John, Steven. A total unexpected treat to catch a few minutes with Annette and Jheri. My heart is full from spending time, some brief, some in depth with these people that have touched my life deeply. In many ways it was the same sort of experience as when I was a student, in other ways not, since it seemed overall a more subdued RC. Also it was not the same as I was now single, and I was telling hard truths about me, my relationship, my vague plans for finishing my degree, all of those things that I have been sitting with the last few months.
This morning I caught CalTrans down to San Jose to see more friends, these from my time of living out here. More bitter words spilled from my lips, which were parched from telling such sadness, hurt and anger; afraid of breaking other people's hearts just a bit in the process. Mostly though it was good, fabulous even to reconnect with these people. The occasion was Zaye's fifth birthday, hard to believe he is so big, so perfect still. It was wonderful to see his mamas and reassure myself that though contact had been limited, the affection and love has not faded as I had feared. Andrea & Liz's daughter Val is amazing, such an unusual beauty. The big surprise for me was seeing Wendy; we have always connected solidly, in a mildly flirtitous way and though she is happily coupled it was still fun to do just a little of that dance together.
Glamour Gal, Amazing Beau and I drove back to Berkeley in the Saab convertible with the top down as the dusk settled in, wind whipping my hair every which way and I was taken with unbelievable sadness. Sheryl Crow played for awhile and the title lyric hit me particularly hard because I am so happy, leaving was the right choice on so many levels and yet after these two days of reverie I am incredibly sadden by the very things that have brought me here, where I am happy. The truths that have been laid bare have made me incredibly sad, challenged me, left me feeling betrayal in a manner I have never felt before, and today in the car along with blocked tears I started to feel anger. A deep heart changing anger, a knowledge that I have lost an innocence I once had, a trust that I imbued happily on everyone, a willing suspension of disbelief that can not exist inside me anymore. Perhaps that is what is making me so angry and sad right now, because juxtiposed right up against my deep hurt is the Glamour Gal and Amazing Beau being so happy, so lovingly, all the things that I had hoped for, that I had pinned a future on in my last relationship. The two times I have taken a total leap of faith in love, ignored warning signs, fell in love in that way I don't believe in, I was left in a heap, crumbled and broken. My cyncism has done nothing but grow and that feels impossibly sad to me tonight.
I am sure some of my positivism and trust in people will return, at least I hope it does, but for tonight I am angry, sad, and feeling a little lost; longing for an alone space to curl up into and sleep endlessly, to snivel to myself, and to just be in my misery until I am ready to interact with people, to retreat to again and again. I do not have that right now. The closest I will get to such a thing is in a few more days, in a tent in the Sierra Nevada foothills, in between working and socializing. It is foolish to hope that my experience last year will repeat itself because moments like that are the ephianies that keep us going, and frankly I have had a few in unusual places of late so the best I can hope for in that desert climate is some sweet interactions, satisfying work, and just a few soul opening dance experiences. I'm not greedy. Well mostly not. So if I get just one or two of those things, it will be enough. Oh, and some good sleep would be nice too.
That is today question. Leaving Dayton was extremely hard, not because I didn't want to be done, but because I was done. A chapter is now closed. Certain hard truths came to light that challenged me, and will continue to, in my last days there.
I have been in California since Tuesday, staying with Glamour Gal and her amazing beau. Since then I have shopped, gossiped, worked, and began to tell those hard truths. Yesterday I went to see my dear friends from graduate school since my visit fortuitously coincided with the residential conference. It has been two years since I saw them, at which time I was on the brink of moving to Ohio, and now I have left there. I cannot begin to tell you how amazing it was to see Sandra, Scott, Jennifer, Priscilla, John, Steven. A total unexpected treat to catch a few minutes with Annette and Jheri. My heart is full from spending time, some brief, some in depth with these people that have touched my life deeply. In many ways it was the same sort of experience as when I was a student, in other ways not, since it seemed overall a more subdued RC. Also it was not the same as I was now single, and I was telling hard truths about me, my relationship, my vague plans for finishing my degree, all of those things that I have been sitting with the last few months.
This morning I caught CalTrans down to San Jose to see more friends, these from my time of living out here. More bitter words spilled from my lips, which were parched from telling such sadness, hurt and anger; afraid of breaking other people's hearts just a bit in the process. Mostly though it was good, fabulous even to reconnect with these people. The occasion was Zaye's fifth birthday, hard to believe he is so big, so perfect still. It was wonderful to see his mamas and reassure myself that though contact had been limited, the affection and love has not faded as I had feared. Andrea & Liz's daughter Val is amazing, such an unusual beauty. The big surprise for me was seeing Wendy; we have always connected solidly, in a mildly flirtitous way and though she is happily coupled it was still fun to do just a little of that dance together.
Glamour Gal, Amazing Beau and I drove back to Berkeley in the Saab convertible with the top down as the dusk settled in, wind whipping my hair every which way and I was taken with unbelievable sadness. Sheryl Crow played for awhile and the title lyric hit me particularly hard because I am so happy, leaving was the right choice on so many levels and yet after these two days of reverie I am incredibly sadden by the very things that have brought me here, where I am happy. The truths that have been laid bare have made me incredibly sad, challenged me, left me feeling betrayal in a manner I have never felt before, and today in the car along with blocked tears I started to feel anger. A deep heart changing anger, a knowledge that I have lost an innocence I once had, a trust that I imbued happily on everyone, a willing suspension of disbelief that can not exist inside me anymore. Perhaps that is what is making me so angry and sad right now, because juxtiposed right up against my deep hurt is the Glamour Gal and Amazing Beau being so happy, so lovingly, all the things that I had hoped for, that I had pinned a future on in my last relationship. The two times I have taken a total leap of faith in love, ignored warning signs, fell in love in that way I don't believe in, I was left in a heap, crumbled and broken. My cyncism has done nothing but grow and that feels impossibly sad to me tonight.
I am sure some of my positivism and trust in people will return, at least I hope it does, but for tonight I am angry, sad, and feeling a little lost; longing for an alone space to curl up into and sleep endlessly, to snivel to myself, and to just be in my misery until I am ready to interact with people, to retreat to again and again. I do not have that right now. The closest I will get to such a thing is in a few more days, in a tent in the Sierra Nevada foothills, in between working and socializing. It is foolish to hope that my experience last year will repeat itself because moments like that are the ephianies that keep us going, and frankly I have had a few in unusual places of late so the best I can hope for in that desert climate is some sweet interactions, satisfying work, and just a few soul opening dance experiences. I'm not greedy. Well mostly not. So if I get just one or two of those things, it will be enough. Oh, and some good sleep would be nice too.
Monday, June 08, 2009
Goodbyes
It has been a long year of saying goodbye it seems. This is not what I thought I would write about today, though it encompasses some of my recent ponderings. Just a few minutes ago I learned of another person in my overlapping circles has died. This is the second death in less than two weeks.
Last summer my cousin lost her spouse of 40 years; someone that has always been in my world even if we rarely had contact also died. Greg's father also passed last summer and just a few weeks ago I was honored to be present for his memorial at Greg's home. During camp last August three members of my Dance New England community lost a parent; coincidentally we had three very pregnant members on site which seemed like a profound and fortunate synchronicity.
Another type of passing of course, was the end of my relationship from Her Geekyness. Though I never wrote on this blog of our problems, and I still will not sully the good of that relationship here, but things had been building for at least several months before things ended in February. I have written about my journey, a bit, since that time of things I feel reside in me that form who I am (and lucky readers, there will be more of that) and the ones that cause me angst and those that bring my joy. I have been grieving, wallowing in finding me, happy, sad, and angry. I have been back in Ohio for about two weeks where all those emotions, and more, have made an appearance. Her Geekyness and I saw each other twice. The first time was awkward, not terrible and not fabulous. Mostly business was handled. A second time we went through the house to go over the belongings and what I would be taking as I had left some things back in March. The end of that visit was hard and the sadness overtook me because there was now no future date where we would see each other, this was the end in a different way.
I have been alone with my animal babies for over a week and it has been lovely but I need to say goodbye, again. Since I left Grace Ellen needed to be put down due to cancer so while she has been largely a quiet presence the last few months, the house feels different without her. Last night was my Sunday Night Knit Night and while it has been lovely to these last two weeks, it was so hard to say good bye because once again like with Her Geekyness and the babies there is not time that I know I will see these people again. Yes, yes I can and will keep in touch but it's not the same as being with the group, random snippets of conversation catching your attention, Emily succeeding in making me spit my tea last night - a feat no one has been able to get me to do in twenty years, someone offering a suggestion of using Febreze on a real hair wig to avoid shampooing too often. You had to be there.
Last weekend Dance New England lost another community member. Judit lost her bold, graceful, humor filled fight with cancer. I first met her in 2000, when I first returned to the community and we talked about her sons, about her first bout with cancer, her fiber arts. Judit was always smiling. Last year she came to camp, fighting hard, dealing with the effects of chemotherapy and her scalp gloriously gleaming. Nev henna'ed her dome and it looked like a crown befitting the goddess Judit was. I am grateful that her husband and sons have registered for camp, that they feel that we can hold them in this moment.
This morning I learned of an acquaintance's passing and tears started to flow. It wasn't just because Mike has left us, it is all the losses, all the transitions; it's about aging. I have moved past the time when grandparents die; now, not only do our parents die but our friends, people our age, people like me. While I enlivened by my life changes, my modern nomad phase, facing with all these losses, I know there are more to come who will be closer to me; my current single status sometimes feels frightening lonely. It occurs to me that I could die alone, that there will be no one who tell people I have passed, no one will know how I would want to be celebrated, or who gets my belongings. The reality is that I am probably halfway through my time here, or less because one never knows. My parents are closer to death, my friends are too as they age. I have thought of this before but I'm not sure I seriously thought that I might be alone, not that I planned to be coupled per se but at this age the reality somes down a little harder.
I do not feel morbid about this but I am sitting in the knowledge that time is finite; that things are temporary because they go away, while the presence is always there because of one's experience of them.
Tell people around you the truth, tell they about their beauty, importance. Reflect on your grace, your expansiveness in this moment. Experience the love in your heart, the love that exists in the sky, in the peacefulness that you can find chopping vegetables for dinner. Love is always there, with someone, alone, in a crowd, with your beloved. Find it and embrace it, remember it when you think it's gone.
Last summer my cousin lost her spouse of 40 years; someone that has always been in my world even if we rarely had contact also died. Greg's father also passed last summer and just a few weeks ago I was honored to be present for his memorial at Greg's home. During camp last August three members of my Dance New England community lost a parent; coincidentally we had three very pregnant members on site which seemed like a profound and fortunate synchronicity.
Another type of passing of course, was the end of my relationship from Her Geekyness. Though I never wrote on this blog of our problems, and I still will not sully the good of that relationship here, but things had been building for at least several months before things ended in February. I have written about my journey, a bit, since that time of things I feel reside in me that form who I am (and lucky readers, there will be more of that) and the ones that cause me angst and those that bring my joy. I have been grieving, wallowing in finding me, happy, sad, and angry. I have been back in Ohio for about two weeks where all those emotions, and more, have made an appearance. Her Geekyness and I saw each other twice. The first time was awkward, not terrible and not fabulous. Mostly business was handled. A second time we went through the house to go over the belongings and what I would be taking as I had left some things back in March. The end of that visit was hard and the sadness overtook me because there was now no future date where we would see each other, this was the end in a different way.
I have been alone with my animal babies for over a week and it has been lovely but I need to say goodbye, again. Since I left Grace Ellen needed to be put down due to cancer so while she has been largely a quiet presence the last few months, the house feels different without her. Last night was my Sunday Night Knit Night and while it has been lovely to these last two weeks, it was so hard to say good bye because once again like with Her Geekyness and the babies there is not time that I know I will see these people again. Yes, yes I can and will keep in touch but it's not the same as being with the group, random snippets of conversation catching your attention, Emily succeeding in making me spit my tea last night - a feat no one has been able to get me to do in twenty years, someone offering a suggestion of using Febreze on a real hair wig to avoid shampooing too often. You had to be there.
Last weekend Dance New England lost another community member. Judit lost her bold, graceful, humor filled fight with cancer. I first met her in 2000, when I first returned to the community and we talked about her sons, about her first bout with cancer, her fiber arts. Judit was always smiling. Last year she came to camp, fighting hard, dealing with the effects of chemotherapy and her scalp gloriously gleaming. Nev henna'ed her dome and it looked like a crown befitting the goddess Judit was. I am grateful that her husband and sons have registered for camp, that they feel that we can hold them in this moment.
This morning I learned of an acquaintance's passing and tears started to flow. It wasn't just because Mike has left us, it is all the losses, all the transitions; it's about aging. I have moved past the time when grandparents die; now, not only do our parents die but our friends, people our age, people like me. While I enlivened by my life changes, my modern nomad phase, facing with all these losses, I know there are more to come who will be closer to me; my current single status sometimes feels frightening lonely. It occurs to me that I could die alone, that there will be no one who tell people I have passed, no one will know how I would want to be celebrated, or who gets my belongings. The reality is that I am probably halfway through my time here, or less because one never knows. My parents are closer to death, my friends are too as they age. I have thought of this before but I'm not sure I seriously thought that I might be alone, not that I planned to be coupled per se but at this age the reality somes down a little harder.
I do not feel morbid about this but I am sitting in the knowledge that time is finite; that things are temporary because they go away, while the presence is always there because of one's experience of them.
Tell people around you the truth, tell they about their beauty, importance. Reflect on your grace, your expansiveness in this moment. Experience the love in your heart, the love that exists in the sky, in the peacefulness that you can find chopping vegetables for dinner. Love is always there, with someone, alone, in a crowd, with your beloved. Find it and embrace it, remember it when you think it's gone.
Friday, June 05, 2009
A quiz because I am tired, lame, and busy
Your result for The Mythological Goddess Test ...
Isis
Indeed, you are 75% erudite, 88% sensual, 29% martial, and 33% saturnine.
This Egyptian supreme Goddess is certainly the most influential deity on subsequent cultures. She was the ideal figure of womanhood, usually compared with the Greek Goddess Demeter or her Roman version, Ceres.
Isis was one element of a Holy Trinity, the remaining two figures being her brother and husband Osiris and their heroic son Horus. She was the Goddess of Magic for her brilliance, as well as the Goddess of Love because of her tenacious devotion.
She is often shown with wings, curving to caress coffins and sarcophagi of many a king. In certain papyri she is shown with her falcon wing headdress, covering her ears. One of her sacred symbols is the sistrum, a musical instrument that was believed to ward off evil spirits. Isis' sistrum was carved bearing the image of a cat and was representative of the Moon.
Isis was the High Priestess and an omnipotent magician as well as the only being ever to discover the secret name of Ra. She invariably carries the ankh, the symbol for eternal life. Her name is, by the rules of numerology, adding up to the number “2” and she just so happens to be depicted on the tarot card “Key 2 – The High Priestess”.
Compared to other takers
- You scored 75% on erudite, higher than 40% of your peers.
- You scored 88% on sensual, higher than 74% of your peers.
- You scored 29% on martial, higher than 3% of your peers.
- You scored 33% on saturnine, higher than 14% of your peers.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Where I've been!
March 21 Sat Landed at Sunny's. Croton on Hudson
March 23 Mon Got to Matt's Saugerties
March 28 I was at Greg's in Brooklyn for a couple of days. Was able to attend their open studio and helped prep for it.
April 1 or 2 Back to Sunny's then Matt's.
April 4 Sat went to Freestyle Frolic http://freestylefrolic.org/
April 7 Brooklyn for a few days - Seder with internet friends on the 8th, Seder with my family on the 9th -first time since at least 2001.
April 10 Back in Saugerties and another Seder, with Matt's family, who I haven't seen since his wedding in 1990!
April 17 Dinner with Greg in New Paltz
April 18 Freestyle Frolic
April 23 Go to Brooklyn
April 24 Concert in the Village (Hassan Hakmoun opening act was wonderful! Tinariwen main show - if you get the chance you MUST see them live!)
April 26 Back to Sunny's
April 27 Go with Sunny and Lindsay to hospital for a procedure for Lindsay
April 28 Head to Manhattan early to meet some friends
April 29 to Brooklyn
April 30 to Croton/Sunny
May 1st Eye doctor, lots of paper business, back to Brooklyn
May 2nd Memorial for Greg's dad.
May 3rd Back to Sunny - dentist and chiropractor
May 4 Back to Saugerties.
Next up:
May 12 Drive to Sunny's with all my stuff from Saugerties.
May 13 Brooklyn to housesit for Greg & Janet
May 15 Get to New Paltz and go with Hrana and Dave to Boston (Dance Friday - like the Frolic)
May 16 Drive to New Hampshire to check out the new camp site for August.
May 16/17 get back New Paltz and then Brooklyn.
May 19 see Sarah and Catalina
May 22 fly to Ohio
May 24 go to a wedding in Dayton
May 29 start taking care of my furry babies
June 9 fly to California to see folks before camp
June 19-28 NCDC camp
June 30 fly back to Brooklyn
July 2-5 Go to a kink event in New Jersey
Start housesitting in Brooklyn for the month
Sometime go to Jersey shore to visit my fabulous friend.
August 13 go to New Hampshire for DNE
After that? No idea!
So that my dear readers is part of why I have been silent. My brain has been quite noisy and I have lots of ideas for posts. Hopefully the noisy will come out my fingers soon and even more hopefully when it does, it will be entertaining, interesting or an otherwise positive experience for my readers who I thank for sticking by me and being patient.
March 23 Mon Got to Matt's Saugerties
March 28 I was at Greg's in Brooklyn for a couple of days. Was able to attend their open studio and helped prep for it.
April 1 or 2 Back to Sunny's then Matt's.
April 4 Sat went to Freestyle Frolic http://freestylefrolic.org/
April 7 Brooklyn for a few days - Seder with internet friends on the 8th, Seder with my family on the 9th -first time since at least 2001.
April 10 Back in Saugerties and another Seder, with Matt's family, who I haven't seen since his wedding in 1990!
April 17 Dinner with Greg in New Paltz
April 18 Freestyle Frolic
April 23 Go to Brooklyn
April 24 Concert in the Village (Hassan Hakmoun opening act was wonderful! Tinariwen main show - if you get the chance you MUST see them live!)
April 26 Back to Sunny's
April 27 Go with Sunny and Lindsay to hospital for a procedure for Lindsay
April 28 Head to Manhattan early to meet some friends
April 29 to Brooklyn
April 30 to Croton/Sunny
May 1st Eye doctor, lots of paper business, back to Brooklyn
May 2nd Memorial for Greg's dad.
May 3rd Back to Sunny - dentist and chiropractor
May 4 Back to Saugerties.
Next up:
May 12 Drive to Sunny's with all my stuff from Saugerties.
May 13 Brooklyn to housesit for Greg & Janet
May 15 Get to New Paltz and go with Hrana and Dave to Boston (Dance Friday - like the Frolic)
May 16 Drive to New Hampshire to check out the new camp site for August.
May 16/17 get back New Paltz and then Brooklyn.
May 19 see Sarah and Catalina
May 22 fly to Ohio
May 24 go to a wedding in Dayton
May 29 start taking care of my furry babies
June 9 fly to California to see folks before camp
June 19-28 NCDC camp
June 30 fly back to Brooklyn
July 2-5 Go to a kink event in New Jersey
Start housesitting in Brooklyn for the month
Sometime go to Jersey shore to visit my fabulous friend.
August 13 go to New Hampshire for DNE
After that? No idea!
So that my dear readers is part of why I have been silent. My brain has been quite noisy and I have lots of ideas for posts. Hopefully the noisy will come out my fingers soon and even more hopefully when it does, it will be entertaining, interesting or an otherwise positive experience for my readers who I thank for sticking by me and being patient.
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
To Dharma: Rescue Me. From Dharma
I wish I knew how to fly, how to let my feelings fly around my head, appreciate their dips and soaring abilities; it would be amazing to just enjoy them regardless if there was bounding sadness looping around my head or the thrill of silence.
My pattern of wanting every one happy or at least not mad or sad, particularly at me is really I suspect my own discomfort with the anger and grief that resides in me; that if I can make others feel better than there is hope for me. It is the same magical thinking that I have about my mother, if she became truly sane and functional than I would be safe from the crazy. I don't want my presence in someone's life to make things harder for them, but I suspect it does, because, well I am crazy in my own way; because while I am a realist a lot of the time I feel like I spin tales, recast the better side of myself that leads people to think I am more than I am. When the truth comes out, they are disappointed and feel a bit trapped by the fantasy. Then they are mad. Then I am mad at me, at them; I want to save them from the sink hole I have dug for them but I can't. In truth I did not dig it, though perhaps I helped lead them to the sink hole that resides within, so I can't rescue them either. Everyone, especially me, needs to rescue themselves and yet I yearn to rescue, to help, to offer sixteen lights at the end of their tunnel.
Rescue me by Buckcherry seems the closest to how I feel right now, except it's all about me, no one else in my head and heart right now to do this for me. I have no idea who Buckcherry is, I just did a lyric search for "rescue me," just in case you are wondering about my music choices. I need to learn, deeply, make it my operating system, how to take care of me, how not to obsessively rescue others, not to lose me inside someone. It is scary, I know how to do the basics like housing, job, feeding; it is the deeper stuff - being alone, facing all my feelings without judgment, pampering me, taking care of my health on all levels. To honor my needs and wants without rationalizing why I shouldn't have them or meet them.
I feel a little like an addict, like everyday is going to be a struggle to make the best choice, to not bathe in the waters of someone else's needs, to not offer lifesavers before some one actually says they need one.
So today I claim as day one of recognizing my lack of control over or for other's people's feelings; that people will get mad at me, they have a right to their feelings, as do I; that I will continue to be as loving and supportive to everyone as I can while remembering to do the same for myself.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Wishing for a shortcut
There are times when deeply sitting in your being is great, but inevitably there comes times when you wish you were done, or could ignore yourself. In this freeform time of being alone a lot, of wondering where to live for the next stretch of time, of seeing friends whom I have missed greatly, there comes these emotional bumps of sadness or that lovely sense impending doom. Today I feel like I am waiting for the shoe to drop. Grieving a relationship is hard work, going over details of joy and not so joyful times hurts. There is no pretty way to say it.
Sitting inside the well of yourself wondering if something is broken inside you is a less than glorious way to pass the time. It is harder to run away from myself here. For the second time ever I am living with no television - having that black hole available gave me a reprieve, a way to forget and now I do not have it. I don't rent movies, have only watched three shows online. My escapes are reading which works as long as my brain doesn't interfere; sleep is the other with the same caveat. Except even if I sleep my subconscious can get in my way. Yesterday while napping my brain worried over a stone, rubbing it until it shone. Ultimately the dreams were about relationships that it is too late to revive, about being told no, about how sometimes wanting something isn't enough.
In a way I feel like my life has been brought full circle, a way to begin again - which at my age is gracious of the universe, and cruel. It is a gift that is lovely but it's like the post office had lost it at least six times so it wrinkled, cracked and a good deal of shine has been rubbed off the pretty paper. That is a bit of what I see in the mirror half the time, the passage of time, aging settling in at my edges. It is scary as I don't often think of myself as older but I am. I do think I am a bit wiser than 20 years ago, and I hope to keep getting smarter about myself but the mistakes, the ways I have ignored my inner and outer self some days feel very, very loud.
For today I will try to remember that each day is new opportunity, a new chance dig deeper, to sleep away worry, to connect with people, to think of something new to do with the life I have right now.
Sitting inside the well of yourself wondering if something is broken inside you is a less than glorious way to pass the time. It is harder to run away from myself here. For the second time ever I am living with no television - having that black hole available gave me a reprieve, a way to forget and now I do not have it. I don't rent movies, have only watched three shows online. My escapes are reading which works as long as my brain doesn't interfere; sleep is the other with the same caveat. Except even if I sleep my subconscious can get in my way. Yesterday while napping my brain worried over a stone, rubbing it until it shone. Ultimately the dreams were about relationships that it is too late to revive, about being told no, about how sometimes wanting something isn't enough.
In a way I feel like my life has been brought full circle, a way to begin again - which at my age is gracious of the universe, and cruel. It is a gift that is lovely but it's like the post office had lost it at least six times so it wrinkled, cracked and a good deal of shine has been rubbed off the pretty paper. That is a bit of what I see in the mirror half the time, the passage of time, aging settling in at my edges. It is scary as I don't often think of myself as older but I am. I do think I am a bit wiser than 20 years ago, and I hope to keep getting smarter about myself but the mistakes, the ways I have ignored my inner and outer self some days feel very, very loud.
For today I will try to remember that each day is new opportunity, a new chance dig deeper, to sleep away worry, to connect with people, to think of something new to do with the life I have right now.
Monday, April 13, 2009
Next time just slap me*
When I start bemoaning that my family will judge me in a negative light. That totally did not happen. One cousin said, "Oh, so you are footloose and fancy free then?", like it was a good thing. My sister said it was great that I was being open to what came next. Terrible, right? Yeah, so next time remind me that in all my years with them they have never to my face said anything negative, never put me down. What they say in private, well whatever. They have supported me and worried about me but that's really not so bad, you know.
Next time I complain about not having a seder to go to, remind how this year I went to three! Yes three! I am a lucky, well fed woman. They were all delightful, different, fun, challenging, and thoughtful - like all jewish get togethers in my experience. For a mostly veghead, let me assure you that there is nothing like a really excellent brisket on the holiday. Nothing.
* That is a metaphorical slap which needed to be clarified to a pain in the ass, in the best way, to my friend Greg who wanted to know if if was really okay to slap me. It's not! Well at least it's not okay for him, other people may have different privileges.
Next time I complain about not having a seder to go to, remind how this year I went to three! Yes three! I am a lucky, well fed woman. They were all delightful, different, fun, challenging, and thoughtful - like all jewish get togethers in my experience. For a mostly veghead, let me assure you that there is nothing like a really excellent brisket on the holiday. Nothing.
* That is a metaphorical slap which needed to be clarified to a pain in the ass, in the best way, to my friend Greg who wanted to know if if was really okay to slap me. It's not! Well at least it's not okay for him, other people may have different privileges.
Thursday, April 09, 2009
Catching up a bit
Due to sloth and distraction I never wrote about my travels to Greg and Janet's home at the end of March. Shameful I know. Arriving on a Friday night I was happy to see a scene I had not experienced in a long time - Greg sketching a model for a painting. Janet was bopping around her studio and greeted me with a big hug, leading me to the kitchen to help myself to dinner leftovers.
Saturday we prepped for the Open Studio scheduled for that afternoon which mean that Greg and I walked up the farmer's market up at Grand Army Plaza. Talking about life while taking in vistas of Brooklyn that I had not seen for quite some time; sunlight was lighting up the limestone, sparkling the sidewalks and glinting off the sculptures of the arch. The market was bustling, filled with people, children and dogs.
After coming back to their home I took over the food prep, which was largely making the plates of prepared food look pretty and chopping vegetables. It also offed me an escape during the open studio -something to do when I felt restless, too quiet for chatter, or like my heart was suffering from the sporadic pangs which manifested as a body ache that wanted me to propel into their bedroom in a fetal position with the cat.
Slowly those moments of awkward emotions lifted, or perhaps I was able stow them away in order to be present in the moment. Wonderful flows in and out conversations, slowly the open studio time faded to a more intimate setting to celebrate Greg's birthday and gave us time to talk in slower manner. It was a lovely a day in the end when I reviewed it all before bed.
Monday I finally roused myself to do something on my own, thinking I would go to the yarn store a mere three blocks from their home. As I turned left out of the door I realized that for some odd reasons most yarn stores in the United States are closed on Mondays. It was possible that this being within the confines of New York City would have better sense than that but I was doubtful. As it turned out it was shuttered by the typical irons gates that pull down over many storefronts here. Being out was a good thing so I simply decided to walk and stroll through the neighborhood that on and off many years ago had been my home turf. It was amazing to see so many storefronts the same in the past 10 or even 20 something years and not surprising at all to see so many things that had sprouted new life. One of the few stores I went into has been there since at least the mid-80's; an odd, narrow crowded store with mostly shoes but also a rack of fairly eclectic clothing, some of which seemed like it had been there since my first visit over 20 years ago. I walked up Seventh Avenue until I hit 3rd Street where I turned west towards the corner of 3rd and Fifth Avenue, where I lived in the early eighties. The corner of my former block is now chic and the block has been rehabbed for a long time. A far cry from when I lived there where half the buildings were abandoned, including half the units in my abode. It is the first since I left New York in 1990 that I thought, "I could live here". My large nostalgic circling took over an hour and I felt enlivened, happy, and even a bit peaceful.
(A wall of Janet's studio)
It was a lovely visit and as I write this I am back that their place visiting yet again. This is my other home base for the moment which allows me quiet, companionship, and waves of creativity as their art hangs on the walls, colors hits various types of canvases with oil paints, water colors, and food-based dyes.
(A piece of Greg's work on his studio wall)
Saturday we prepped for the Open Studio scheduled for that afternoon which mean that Greg and I walked up the farmer's market up at Grand Army Plaza. Talking about life while taking in vistas of Brooklyn that I had not seen for quite some time; sunlight was lighting up the limestone, sparkling the sidewalks and glinting off the sculptures of the arch. The market was bustling, filled with people, children and dogs.
After coming back to their home I took over the food prep, which was largely making the plates of prepared food look pretty and chopping vegetables. It also offed me an escape during the open studio -something to do when I felt restless, too quiet for chatter, or like my heart was suffering from the sporadic pangs which manifested as a body ache that wanted me to propel into their bedroom in a fetal position with the cat.
Slowly those moments of awkward emotions lifted, or perhaps I was able stow them away in order to be present in the moment. Wonderful flows in and out conversations, slowly the open studio time faded to a more intimate setting to celebrate Greg's birthday and gave us time to talk in slower manner. It was a lovely a day in the end when I reviewed it all before bed.
Monday I finally roused myself to do something on my own, thinking I would go to the yarn store a mere three blocks from their home. As I turned left out of the door I realized that for some odd reasons most yarn stores in the United States are closed on Mondays. It was possible that this being within the confines of New York City would have better sense than that but I was doubtful. As it turned out it was shuttered by the typical irons gates that pull down over many storefronts here. Being out was a good thing so I simply decided to walk and stroll through the neighborhood that on and off many years ago had been my home turf. It was amazing to see so many storefronts the same in the past 10 or even 20 something years and not surprising at all to see so many things that had sprouted new life. One of the few stores I went into has been there since at least the mid-80's; an odd, narrow crowded store with mostly shoes but also a rack of fairly eclectic clothing, some of which seemed like it had been there since my first visit over 20 years ago. I walked up Seventh Avenue until I hit 3rd Street where I turned west towards the corner of 3rd and Fifth Avenue, where I lived in the early eighties. The corner of my former block is now chic and the block has been rehabbed for a long time. A far cry from when I lived there where half the buildings were abandoned, including half the units in my abode. It is the first since I left New York in 1990 that I thought, "I could live here". My large nostalgic circling took over an hour and I felt enlivened, happy, and even a bit peaceful.
(A wall of Janet's studio)It was a lovely visit and as I write this I am back that their place visiting yet again. This is my other home base for the moment which allows me quiet, companionship, and waves of creativity as their art hangs on the walls, colors hits various types of canvases with oil paints, water colors, and food-based dyes.
(A piece of Greg's work on his studio wall)Wednesday, April 08, 2009
Rumblings in the brain
For many years, maybe three-fourths of my life, I have experienced these feelings of impending doom - something I should be doing, something I haven't done, something I did wrong will come tumbling forward and I will be a puddle of despair of entirely my own making. These feelings come over me at random times, often in bed when falling asleep, sometimes when out having a good time and a quiet moment crosses which allows that spidery web of distress envelop my gut and shake it, hard.
Last night I had it again. Greg and I had just gone to hear Jay Wiseman give a presentation on Immobilizing Bondage which largely was god awful. We were tearing it apart, having fun in our more polymorphous view of the world and thus more correct view versus his limited heterosexist and sexist style. A moment of satisfied silence was suddenly overtaken be this sense that I shouldn't be having fun, that my life should have more form, that I should be a good little societal mole and finally act like the grown up I imagined from time to time when I was young.
Many years ago when I first was on anti-depressants the impending doom sensation disappeared and the idea that I was not in fact being presentient was incredibly liberating. When I was not on my happy pills it was useful thing to remember that it was simply my brain misfiring and only appearing cruel or psychic. It is not surprising that I am having waves of this now giving I am not following any particular model, watching my donated pennies until I can form my own cash flow. Largely I am on my own schedule, I am not responsible in a day to day way for anyone for the first time in years and years. It feels so liberating. I am going simply by my rhythm and working not to judge myself for it. Tomorrow night I will see a number of my family for the first time in five years. What will I tell them? Am I afraid of their judgement? Could I view it instead that I am being brave, that they would find what I am doing scary and somewhere deep inside they could be in awe of me? I'm not sure. In truth their reaction will probably be a mix of worry that my life has no form and a little wistful that they are not, maybe have never, been in this place.
This morning Greg and I talked some more about the gut shaking I get. He offered that maybe I could try to find a way to turn it into something constructive, creative, or other wise work this sensation into a positive. From there we talked a bit about what my plans are, where my focus is in terms of the next short and intermediate steps in my path. Encouraging noises were made on his part, and I, in turn, realized I had some shape, solid ideas about where and how I wanted to go but that I was also keeping some things open ended since there are many unknowns that are only somewhat in my control. I will continue to take my life in my hands, chart my own waters, and know that I have many good friends to visit with, help guide me, and generally love me well through thes travels.
Last night I had it again. Greg and I had just gone to hear Jay Wiseman give a presentation on Immobilizing Bondage which largely was god awful. We were tearing it apart, having fun in our more polymorphous view of the world and thus more correct view versus his limited heterosexist and sexist style. A moment of satisfied silence was suddenly overtaken be this sense that I shouldn't be having fun, that my life should have more form, that I should be a good little societal mole and finally act like the grown up I imagined from time to time when I was young.
Many years ago when I first was on anti-depressants the impending doom sensation disappeared and the idea that I was not in fact being presentient was incredibly liberating. When I was not on my happy pills it was useful thing to remember that it was simply my brain misfiring and only appearing cruel or psychic. It is not surprising that I am having waves of this now giving I am not following any particular model, watching my donated pennies until I can form my own cash flow. Largely I am on my own schedule, I am not responsible in a day to day way for anyone for the first time in years and years. It feels so liberating. I am going simply by my rhythm and working not to judge myself for it. Tomorrow night I will see a number of my family for the first time in five years. What will I tell them? Am I afraid of their judgement? Could I view it instead that I am being brave, that they would find what I am doing scary and somewhere deep inside they could be in awe of me? I'm not sure. In truth their reaction will probably be a mix of worry that my life has no form and a little wistful that they are not, maybe have never, been in this place.
This morning Greg and I talked some more about the gut shaking I get. He offered that maybe I could try to find a way to turn it into something constructive, creative, or other wise work this sensation into a positive. From there we talked a bit about what my plans are, where my focus is in terms of the next short and intermediate steps in my path. Encouraging noises were made on his part, and I, in turn, realized I had some shape, solid ideas about where and how I wanted to go but that I was also keeping some things open ended since there are many unknowns that are only somewhat in my control. I will continue to take my life in my hands, chart my own waters, and know that I have many good friends to visit with, help guide me, and generally love me well through thes travels.
Friday, April 03, 2009
Clarity, my kingdom for clarity
Okay I have no kingdom to offer but you get the drift. Her Geekyness and I are trying to negotiate the waters of no longer being a couple but are still connected, still care deeply for each other. I feel like my words are failing me which frustrates me no end. Within myself I am trying to understand how I got where I am, what it means and am trying to dig into the work on myself in an honest, real, and loving way. Everything feels a bit shallow rather than deep, a touch of playing at the edges rather than placing myself in the middle of my metaphorical pile of shit and wallowing in the positives and negatives.
I hear of other couples splitting, of still other couples hashing it out and I wonder how each happens even while I am aware that I have no idea what their relationship actually feels like so I can have no realistic notion of whether I want to emulate them. This is something I ponder a lot about myself, about whether I am missing some component, whether I have less fortitude surrounding certain discomforts of life. It is quite possible that I am in complete model with an inborn defect. However I also know that I do not enter relationships planning for the end. I enter filled with hope that we can do what's necessary to make things work. Tempting though it might be to place blame on simply oneself or solely the other person the reality is that it takes two people create whatever becomes, whether it is a love of the moment, an era, or forever; it take two people to make it a healthy growthful thing or something inhibits the stretch.
It is a hard morning. I feel awkward, out of place and time. In reality I know this moment is necessary and fleeting though it will return, just like all emotions do, I only hope that I can keep digging in the mud, nurturing it, honoring it so that one day a lotus may take root.
I hear of other couples splitting, of still other couples hashing it out and I wonder how each happens even while I am aware that I have no idea what their relationship actually feels like so I can have no realistic notion of whether I want to emulate them. This is something I ponder a lot about myself, about whether I am missing some component, whether I have less fortitude surrounding certain discomforts of life. It is quite possible that I am in complete model with an inborn defect. However I also know that I do not enter relationships planning for the end. I enter filled with hope that we can do what's necessary to make things work. Tempting though it might be to place blame on simply oneself or solely the other person the reality is that it takes two people create whatever becomes, whether it is a love of the moment, an era, or forever; it take two people to make it a healthy growthful thing or something inhibits the stretch.
It is a hard morning. I feel awkward, out of place and time. In reality I know this moment is necessary and fleeting though it will return, just like all emotions do, I only hope that I can keep digging in the mud, nurturing it, honoring it so that one day a lotus may take root.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Rises and dips in the road
Where did I leave off? Oh yes. Moments before Matt came home. Up in my tiny room which I was decorating to make less drab by hanging sarongs on the windows, I heard his voice slightly boom as he greeted his son. Suddenly he was upstairs just over the threshold with his arms outstretched which then encased me a hug that was sweet, protective and incredibly imbued with love. In a slightly hushed husky tone he asked me how I was in a way that people use then they really really want to know the complete answer. It brought tears to my eyes. All the angst I had been feeling traveled down my body and out the crevices in the floor boards.
Later still he and I went to the grocery store to pick up some essentials, mostly milk which his son demanded in a not particularly whiny way. “How’s your heart Dharma”? My reply was "slightly broken", which is how it feels. I cannot recall ever having left while the love was still so front and center, not pushed to the far corner of the room so that I could move on without the ache being so strong. Honestly I think this is the first time I have a broken heart. I do not think it is a bad thing for me to experience; it is rather reassuring to me because it means that maybe I do not have an ice core after all.
Later still he and I went to the grocery store to pick up some essentials, mostly milk which his son demanded in a not particularly whiny way. “How’s your heart Dharma”? My reply was "slightly broken", which is how it feels. I cannot recall ever having left while the love was still so front and center, not pushed to the far corner of the room so that I could move on without the ache being so strong. Honestly I think this is the first time I have a broken heart. I do not think it is a bad thing for me to experience; it is rather reassuring to me because it means that maybe I do not have an ice core after all.
After his son and he completed a wonderful science experiment – making hydrochloric acid to but into balloons that they lit to fire up the gas – Matt and talked until about 2am. We covered all sorts of topic, including his divorce, a post-marriage relationship which he is still obsessing over just a bit, his sons, my relationship, the nomadic existence I have mapped up, and reminisced our past just a little. Did I mention we were involved a thousand years ago, actually had a city hall wedding? No? Well we did. I went up to my little room and finished Rubyfruit Jungle which I had decided to reread. Truly not her best work by any definition except for it’s boldness.
Tuesday I unloaded more of my things, set up my little travel bookcase and settled into my non-routine. Eli was home all day as he homeschools but he was pretty quiet. Matt came home in the evening and asked if I wanted to go for a walk after he brought Eli to his mom’s house. Since I hadn’t left the house all day except to grab things from the Purple Beast I thought it sounded like a fine idea. At about dusk we walked a path to the Saugerties Lighthouse which bears no resemblance to any other lighthouse I have seen. It looks like a rather stately home, made of brick with large windows. The top floor is a bed and breakfast which I think would be delightful to spend a few days in surrounded by water; watching, listening to the tides go in and out, trying to identify bird calls and breathing in the solitude. I think I will go there a few more times while I’m here.
The next day was the sunny and the most amazing quiet I have experienced in forever. No television, I listened to no music and there is no street traffic to speak of. I felt joy radiate in the silence. At the behest of friends via the internet who were horrified that I had not ventured outside the entire day I drove across the bridge into town and found the Muddy Cup where I browsed the oddly laid out books, ordered a too sweet chai and had a slice of lovely quiche. Once again Matt and I stayed up after midnight talking. It has been such a joy to gab and gab with an old dear friend where the comfort level is wide and deep.
Yesterday was a bit the same except not as sunny and my mood was sadder, feeling more uncomfortable in my skin. I suspect some of that is related to Her Geekyness deciding to cut off contact for the moment. No idea how long it will last, no idea what it means but after almost five years of regularly, almost compulsive contact I think it left me a bit adrift. Certainly having to firm plans and nowhere relatively permanent to live is also part of the unmoored feeling. I suppose that feeling we could still talk and email somewhat at will gave the illusion of something of my former life intact, a sheen of respectability. Without it my transformation to gypsyhood is complete I suppose.
Today I began to feel a little guilty, at least I think that's what the feeling is, that I am happy being unmoored even as it can leave me unsettled. Sometimes I wonder what it says about me that I am not, like many people I know, able to celebrate 15 or 20 years with a person; that the idea of regular job makes me break out in hives. As I write this I am riding the Metro North to Grand Central Station where I will hop on the subway with my over weighted back pack to see Greg and Janet (they are having an open studio tomorrow 3/28 in Brooklyn from 2-5pm, contact me if you want the address!) and hang there for a few days. After that my plans once again drop in the murky river which I hope will carry me to a happier place in my soul, will allow me find who I really need to be, how to take care of myself without losing my center to others, and earn enough money to continue on the path of evolution.
Monday, March 23, 2009
Initial visions of the next stop
Life has become more surreal. I have just arrived in Saugerties. The room is barren in a “in shambles” kind of way. Single mattress and box spring on the floor, a small but neat table, and a horribly beaten up small foam filled couch. How do I know its foam filled? Because the covering on the seat is almost completely devoid of fabric, the top of back has tears displaying white poly fill. The walls are painted soft lovely lavender in distinct contrast to the century old, scratched wide plank pine floors and the sad furniture.
The younger son is home, listening to NPR while making tea or some beverage for himself. Imagine that, a teenager not texting, in front of the computer or television. Hell I was surprised to see there was a television in Matt’s home, I fully expected there not to be one. From downstairs there is a banging as if Eli is repairing something, or building something. Who knows? Marketplace is covering the latest economic news in between banging, odd noises coming out of the boy. From the moment I opened the door the aroma of fried food, like grilled cheese sandwiches made on the stove and the butter burned assaulted my senses. The scent is present even upstairs in my little room. The house is down the road from a river. Out of the window I can see what looks like an old mill that has been turned into condos that are no doubt over priced for the area but I suppose “having a water front view” helped sales. I have barely seen Matt in the last 8 years or so. The boys and I have had almost no interaction with for their entire lives so it should prove interesting to live in a house of testosterone after living with no males for over 20 years.
I have not unloaded much stuff because it feels odd right now. Since I cannot figure out how to get on their wireless (later I discover that there is none), not sure my computer is even finding it, I am drafting this in word until I can figure things out. It could be good to not be online for a bit. I still have my phone if I need contact. I brought in the audio books so I can finish listening if I desire. Staying in Sunny’s basement gave me the opportunity to search some of her book shelves so that in addition to finishing up my rereading of Rubyfruit Jungle and two other books I brought with me, I have three of her books to tide me over.
Staying randomly in people’s homes may prove trickier than I had hoped. Finding one’s rhythm without crossing unknown boundaries is an interesting challenge. Luckily Sunny gave me her leftovers from lunch, yummy rice and beans from the Mexican place down the road from her house, plus the rest of my fried yucca for my dinner tonight. Being physically unrooted is a bizarre state, even at my mother’s home it is hard, though she is giving me large berth, not even using her bathroom once while I was there for two days since it is down in the basement. Her bathroom is her haven, designed and decorated to her specifications down to the color of the towel warmer. Eli told me, “Dad said to make yourself at home.” What does home mean right now? Oh sure I had an answer to one version of that esoteric question. On one hand I know Matt in a historical manner, in a family type way, in a body sense memory way; we have now each other more than half my life. We lived together a thousand years ago as a couple, so yes if I felt like grabbing a book and going downstairs to read on the couch it would be fine. Really. I get the sense that his sons could care less; they have had other roommates sleeping in this room, sharing their space. I am merely another friendly transient. After staying at Sunny’s that sounds wonderful because there is no such common, comfortable gathering space so the idea is compelling. The reality feels tentative. However soon I will venture downstairs, grab a fork, get something to drink and eat my dinner, with a book in hand in the living room. Well assuming I can block out Terri Gross’s interview with one of the actors from “I Love You Man”.
(Since writing this a few hours ago, life has become gentler, easier, and feeling like a good place to rest)
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Landing but the ride has only begun *
As I suspected I did not sleep well. Too hot, tossed and turned. Slept two hours woke up cranky but back to sleep quickly only to wake two hours after that. Woke around 7 am and decided to just be awake.
The radio provided memories and feelings again today. At some point I remembered that a song played yesterday that brought a name for the long ago past up from the depths. Mr. Keirmeyer? Something like that. He was my gym and health education teacher back in junior high. He was an unlikely ally in my burgeoning adolescence which was heavily colored by depression. If I remember correctly he reached out to me and to my mother to act as a support. It has been probably decades since I thought of him; he was blond and really tall as I remember.
This morning I heard "Addicted" by Saving Abel, a favorite song of Her Geekyness. It's totally her kind of song but I also like it; the sound of it works. Then I heard a song became a favorite of mine when I heard on So You Think You Can Dance, it was one of my favorite numbers from the last season. Stark played this as the second song of that incredible set at DNE this summer. I adore everything about this piece. As I sang along this morning the tears flowed without thought, just pure sadness, loss. Immediately after this I changed stations and I caught the end of a bizarre song that rarely gets played anywhere, which luckily just made me laugh as if I was just as mad as the lyrics implies.
Somehow near the end of my trip I totally missed a turn off and drove an additional good fifty miles to my already long day. I am going to blame Dawn who in an attempt to get me hooked on audiobooks, succeeded as I listened to Nick Hornby's "A Long Way Down" - it's amazing! Yesteday I had started the other book she gave me, Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Unfortunately the second cd had a skip and I had to stop listening to it yesterday. Dawn may have convinced me of the charm of audio books, at least while driving - great stuff. Plus these were two truly excellent choices, from what I've heard so far! Of course almost no food all day and emotional/physical exhaustion may have contributed to the extra drive time as well.
In the end, after eight hours of being on the road I landed at Sunny's. Sunny kindly put me in her amazing massage chair for 15 minutes which was a miraculous experience. Afterwards I announced that while I realized I need to not be in a relationship right now I wanted to marry this chair (not sure this is exact one but she has one very much like it!). We went out to dinner and afterwards I began to get settled in the basement space. I also checked the boxes I had shipped and realized that all of my Cooks Illustrated bound magazine volumes had gotten lost. It is very sad but at least I know exactly which books I am missing. Sigh. This will be an expensive thing to replace. Oh well, another opportunity to practice letting go.
Now I just feel rather surreal and am trying to make friends with this hobo life I have assigned myself for the moment.
*Thanks to Dru for inspiration of the post title.
The radio provided memories and feelings again today. At some point I remembered that a song played yesterday that brought a name for the long ago past up from the depths. Mr. Keirmeyer? Something like that. He was my gym and health education teacher back in junior high. He was an unlikely ally in my burgeoning adolescence which was heavily colored by depression. If I remember correctly he reached out to me and to my mother to act as a support. It has been probably decades since I thought of him; he was blond and really tall as I remember.
This morning I heard "Addicted" by Saving Abel, a favorite song of Her Geekyness. It's totally her kind of song but I also like it; the sound of it works. Then I heard a song became a favorite of mine when I heard on So You Think You Can Dance, it was one of my favorite numbers from the last season. Stark played this as the second song of that incredible set at DNE this summer. I adore everything about this piece. As I sang along this morning the tears flowed without thought, just pure sadness, loss. Immediately after this I changed stations and I caught the end of a bizarre song that rarely gets played anywhere, which luckily just made me laugh as if I was just as mad as the lyrics implies.
Somehow near the end of my trip I totally missed a turn off and drove an additional good fifty miles to my already long day. I am going to blame Dawn who in an attempt to get me hooked on audiobooks, succeeded as I listened to Nick Hornby's "A Long Way Down" - it's amazing! Yesteday I had started the other book she gave me, Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman. Unfortunately the second cd had a skip and I had to stop listening to it yesterday. Dawn may have convinced me of the charm of audio books, at least while driving - great stuff. Plus these were two truly excellent choices, from what I've heard so far! Of course almost no food all day and emotional/physical exhaustion may have contributed to the extra drive time as well.
In the end, after eight hours of being on the road I landed at Sunny's. Sunny kindly put me in her amazing massage chair for 15 minutes which was a miraculous experience. Afterwards I announced that while I realized I need to not be in a relationship right now I wanted to marry this chair (not sure this is exact one but she has one very much like it!). We went out to dinner and afterwards I began to get settled in the basement space. I also checked the boxes I had shipped and realized that all of my Cooks Illustrated bound magazine volumes had gotten lost. It is very sad but at least I know exactly which books I am missing. Sigh. This will be an expensive thing to replace. Oh well, another opportunity to practice letting go.
Now I just feel rather surreal and am trying to make friends with this hobo life I have assigned myself for the moment.
*Thanks to Dru for inspiration of the post title.
Friday, March 20, 2009
In which our heroine embraces her gypsy spirit
There has been a lot that I have not been writing about, most prominently I have not been discussing the turmoil between Her Geekyness and me. We had to process, cry, laugh, and agonize a great deal; I felt that privacy was necessary so there was no mention of such things here, on twitter, or facebook, so please know I wasn't keeping anyone out so much as respecting the relationship. In the end we decided to separate. We both have things we need to work on, living together our baggage crashed against each other so that rather than enjoy and revel in our differences they began to bristle, leaving us raw.
Unlike what happens other places I will not be enumerating her faults, recounting she said/she said arguments. What I intend to do is talk about my patterns in relationship, areas where I think I need to do some examining and growth. I will also talk about my less esoteric journeys, starting now!
As many you know I love my neighborhood of South Park, but Dayton itself, and Ohio? Eh. I never felt at home so given the separation I decided to head east but I did not know where specifically. Again in an uncharacteristic move I wrote to my Dance New England community, to my GLBT Knit elist and a handful of friends far and wide asking for cheap housing in either the Boston area, Hudson Valley (New York), or Western Massachusetts. Given my work plans which mean I need to be in California in June and New Hampshire in August I wasn't looking for anything long term. The responses I received eveloped me in love and validated my choice to actually reach out rather than do something last minute and fume that no one cares (see? baggage). In the end I received offers of couches, guest rooms, crash space in about seven states.
After reviewing everything I decided a number of things, plus other things unfolded that are helping to shape the next few months. Being a jewish buddhist, flavored with neo-paganism I decided that I would leave on the Spring Equinox, today. This decision was made about a month ago. I will be staying in Saugerties New York until about the end of May when my friend is planning on moving to New Paltz. As it turns out I have been invited to a wedding back in Dayton for late May. Her Geekyness also started making plans as well - which include beginning a certification program that will make her even geekier (if that's possible!) and together we figured out a time that coincided with the wedding date and my California plans. This means I will return to Dayton for the wedding and stay through the beginning of June to take care of our babies while she is getting schooled down in Atlanta. I may head directly to California from Ohio. Or not. It's all open right now. Either way I will need to find another place to lay my head after NCDC's camp until DNE's camp. Oh yeah, and beyond that since I have no plans. Hell maybe I will see if Steven is still living in Thailand and go hang with him there in the fall.
My focus will be on being alone on purpose, writing, internal growth. For the next two months I will be able dance at the Frolic, or drive up to Northampton to dance (I can't link to Dance Spree since my system sees a trojan there, bummer), to see friends. I am hoping to spend at least part of Mother's day with Sunny since this is the first year in many that I can. Oh yeah, I need work. Or, um, send money folks if you want me to only dance, write and soul search!
love & rocket people!
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
January was for finishing
Yes, yes I know I totally missed posting in February. Happens. Life has been very topsy turvy. In the meantime I have been meaning to post about this stuff.
I wanted to finish projects in January and I did actually finish a few.
One was a holiday gift for Aunt Suzy. This pattern was easy, fast, reversible, unisex - in other words, pretty much perfect! It's Steam Scarf and free on the web! See perfect.
Another project I finished was the matching sweater for Henry. Here is a photo of Owen's, Henry's is identical but just a smaller size. It's amazing what happens when one stops freaking about the idea of twisted cables and pays attention to the flow of the pattern! The second one went SO much faster and not just because it was smaller. Lesson learned - breath, read the pattern in the yarn, flow in the knitting and less in words.
Finally I finished th
e sweater I started in November 2007 for Nation Knit a Sweater in a Month. Yeah well that didn't happen. Another lesson was learned here - the right tools make the craft so much more enjoyable. Never again will I use needles that make me feel like I am experiencing nails on chalkboard on every.frigging.row. Once I finished the second sleeve of doom (seriously I reknit serious sections of both sleeves!), the joining and yoke cruised.
The project that
gave me the most joy on many levels was the shawl for Michele. It really deserves it's own entry but it was finished in January as well. I searched high and low for just the right yarn but like Dorothy I found what I sought in my own backyard, er, stash. In the hank it seemed okay but did not make my heart race. Then I wound it and fell in love.
However the issue of the pattern still loomed. The one I did was the third pattern I tried. Leaf Lace Scarf, nope. Nereides, nope. Finally tried this one, but started with a size 9
needle. Changed to size 8 and added a pattern repeat. I think it's a winner. After blocking it measured 13.5 X 70 inches.
So that was my finishing month! I have finished two more projects, another getting closer to done. Those matching sweaters still need blocking though. And one of the newly finished projects still needs to be felted, but hey it's done-ish!
More later my beauties. Promise!
I wanted to finish projects in January and I did actually finish a few.
One was a holiday gift for Aunt Suzy. This pattern was easy, fast, reversible, unisex - in other words, pretty much perfect! It's Steam Scarf and free on the web! See perfect.
Another project I finished was the matching sweater for Henry. Here is a photo of Owen's, Henry's is identical but just a smaller size. It's amazing what happens when one stops freaking about the idea of twisted cables and pays attention to the flow of the pattern! The second one went SO much faster and not just because it was smaller. Lesson learned - breath, read the pattern in the yarn, flow in the knitting and less in words.
Finally I finished th
e sweater I started in November 2007 for Nation Knit a Sweater in a Month. Yeah well that didn't happen. Another lesson was learned here - the right tools make the craft so much more enjoyable. Never again will I use needles that make me feel like I am experiencing nails on chalkboard on every.frigging.row. Once I finished the second sleeve of doom (seriously I reknit serious sections of both sleeves!), the joining and yoke cruised.
The project that
gave me the most joy on many levels was the shawl for Michele. It really deserves it's own entry but it was finished in January as well. I searched high and low for just the right yarn but like Dorothy I found what I sought in my own backyard, er, stash. In the hank it seemed okay but did not make my heart race. Then I wound it and fell in love.
However the issue of the pattern still loomed. The one I did was the third pattern I tried. Leaf Lace Scarf, nope. Nereides, nope. Finally tried this one, but started with a size 9
needle. Changed to size 8 and added a pattern repeat. I think it's a winner. After blocking it measured 13.5 X 70 inches.So that was my finishing month! I have finished two more projects, another getting closer to done. Those matching sweaters still need blocking though. And one of the newly finished projects still needs to be felted, but hey it's done-ish!
More later my beauties. Promise!
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Winter Notes
The winter season has never been a vast favorite but I can find it charming nonetheless. I am not a fan of the cold like some, the winter outdoor activities have never appealed - I have never even put on skis (cross country or otherwise), as I mentioned to a friend I find no reason to sled, though I like speed. I do wish to learn to ice skate but have no desire to do it outside on icy ponds.
Still I delight in watching snow fall, marvel at how beautiful bare trees are when encased in ice, particularly when the sunlight alits and makes the limbs sparkle. Shoveling is not a favored activity but I do like some physical labor and really like it when there is enough snow that one must move it in order to navigate the sidewalks and such. The Thursday before last it was delightfully warm, in the high forties to low fifties giving everyone a thin ribbon of spring fever very early in the year. After some of the brutally cold single digits, even going negative, we had just had this was a welcome reminder that it would not always be that cold. Then began the predication of much snow. Since moving to Ohio I have not seen what I consider a lot of snow, and no major ice storms so despite my less than graceful adaption back to winter temperatures I have not found winter so bad. On Tuesday we had snow, not a lot but it was pretty. Then came a freezing rain or sleet, or whatever it's called that adds that terribly frustrating layer of ice atop everything. This was followed by more snow. On Wednesday we had what I consider a reasonable amount of snow, maybe 6-8 inches here in our neighborhood; north of us got 9+ inches which I would have loved, except for the shoveling. The other thing I have noted is the snow here is usually light and fluffy. Not once have we gotten the heavy slushy type of snowfall that feels like one is moving wet cement from around their car - I consider this a plus to living in this area.
I love the quiet that snow brings with it. Cars move slower with more attention, fewer people are bounding about, and there is something about the particular winter sky right after a snow fall that is ethereal and still. All the usual sounds are either in hiding or muffled by the layer of crystallized water covering everything. The sun glints off the fresh sun fooling us into thinking there is mica mixed in with the frost. Except for walking the dog I have remained homebound delighting in the quiet, secreting loving that the cars are covered by a snow-ice-snow layer. It has been with a mix of sadness and thrill that I walked on untreaded snow on the greenway while I alternatively walk inside of others' footsteps and strike out on virgin territory. Because of the ice that fell between the snows sometimes my footstep sink, crushing the false shelf of stability; other times, where it is thicker, I feel inches taller as my perspective changes with the added height.
Yesterday I noted how similar snow can be to sand - it polar opposite in one's ideas of ideal landscapes, vacations and temperatures. In the street, where the walking is some of the easiest the snow has been churned up by tires and has the gritty texture of dampened sand. The soft crunch under my feet is satisfyingly dense and reminds me of beaches on both coasts, though in truth it probably more similar to the collection of sand on the boardwalks, bathroom stations and other sites further from the water's edge. From there I head to the greenway and walk the virgin area where the snow now resembles the sand dunes on Cape Cod - weightless and easily blown about by wind, my foot gently submerges briefly before kicking up a wisp of snowy crystals as I step.
This morning I woke, knowing by the way the light was falling that it was before 8am though I had no clock by my head to confirm it. I had given up on falling back to sleep despite how I love and crave sleep because it just seemed to beautifully quiet to miss. As I walked the dog this morning I watched my breath as I exhaled but this time carefuly noted as the breeze carried it to and from. I wondered how I had failed to notice this before after all the times I seen my breath but never bothered to watch it dance on air.
Still I delight in watching snow fall, marvel at how beautiful bare trees are when encased in ice, particularly when the sunlight alits and makes the limbs sparkle. Shoveling is not a favored activity but I do like some physical labor and really like it when there is enough snow that one must move it in order to navigate the sidewalks and such. The Thursday before last it was delightfully warm, in the high forties to low fifties giving everyone a thin ribbon of spring fever very early in the year. After some of the brutally cold single digits, even going negative, we had just had this was a welcome reminder that it would not always be that cold. Then began the predication of much snow. Since moving to Ohio I have not seen what I consider a lot of snow, and no major ice storms so despite my less than graceful adaption back to winter temperatures I have not found winter so bad. On Tuesday we had snow, not a lot but it was pretty. Then came a freezing rain or sleet, or whatever it's called that adds that terribly frustrating layer of ice atop everything. This was followed by more snow. On Wednesday we had what I consider a reasonable amount of snow, maybe 6-8 inches here in our neighborhood; north of us got 9+ inches which I would have loved, except for the shoveling. The other thing I have noted is the snow here is usually light and fluffy. Not once have we gotten the heavy slushy type of snowfall that feels like one is moving wet cement from around their car - I consider this a plus to living in this area.
I love the quiet that snow brings with it. Cars move slower with more attention, fewer people are bounding about, and there is something about the particular winter sky right after a snow fall that is ethereal and still. All the usual sounds are either in hiding or muffled by the layer of crystallized water covering everything. The sun glints off the fresh sun fooling us into thinking there is mica mixed in with the frost. Except for walking the dog I have remained homebound delighting in the quiet, secreting loving that the cars are covered by a snow-ice-snow layer. It has been with a mix of sadness and thrill that I walked on untreaded snow on the greenway while I alternatively walk inside of others' footsteps and strike out on virgin territory. Because of the ice that fell between the snows sometimes my footstep sink, crushing the false shelf of stability; other times, where it is thicker, I feel inches taller as my perspective changes with the added height.
Yesterday I noted how similar snow can be to sand - it polar opposite in one's ideas of ideal landscapes, vacations and temperatures. In the street, where the walking is some of the easiest the snow has been churned up by tires and has the gritty texture of dampened sand. The soft crunch under my feet is satisfyingly dense and reminds me of beaches on both coasts, though in truth it probably more similar to the collection of sand on the boardwalks, bathroom stations and other sites further from the water's edge. From there I head to the greenway and walk the virgin area where the snow now resembles the sand dunes on Cape Cod - weightless and easily blown about by wind, my foot gently submerges briefly before kicking up a wisp of snowy crystals as I step.
This morning I woke, knowing by the way the light was falling that it was before 8am though I had no clock by my head to confirm it. I had given up on falling back to sleep despite how I love and crave sleep because it just seemed to beautifully quiet to miss. As I walked the dog this morning I watched my breath as I exhaled but this time carefuly noted as the breeze carried it to and from. I wondered how I had failed to notice this before after all the times I seen my breath but never bothered to watch it dance on air.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
It's A New Day
Two weeks ago today I was nervous. At 11:00 that morning I had an appointment with the psychiatrist at the crisis center I had been to the Monday before and given what a treat (NOT) that had been I was hesitant despite the so-called therapist and the apparently competent nurse telling how wonderful this doctor was.
Happily they were right, the doctor was calm, efficient with a kind face. I was also in much better spirits and better able to present myself, which no doubt helped her assessment of me - "You clearly have a good handle on your issues and know what you need to do to take care of yourself". That is very true, I just forget to actually take care of myself sometimes. As we were going over my medication she noted that the therapist (what a peach, again NOT) had written a different one. Smiling, I said, after correcting her three times I gave up. The doctor nodded. In that visit I also learned that my medication had gone generic and would only cost me $4 for a 30 day supply. I was doing proverbial cartwheels for hours about that information. One of the things I had been dreading was figuring out how to pay for happy pills that I expected to run more like $100 a month on no income. Did I mention we are both still out of work?
It has been almost two weeks since I started back on the medication, and a few days on the full dose (side effects required me to build up to the appropriate dosage). Yesterday I noticed that I was feeling happy in a way that had been largely missing for what feels like forever, but in reality has been a few months. The other day I noticed that my food cravings have changed. This was a positive side effect that I remember the strongest from the very first time I went on anti-depressants - I lost my food cravings which are clearly most emotionally driven and some of my appetite. It was an enormous revelation to me as someone who has battled with disordered thinking around food and my weight for the majority of my life. The other day I went to pick up some soda for Her Geekyness and thought "hm, ice cream sounds good". However the reality was that was patterned thinking because I walked away from the ice cream case empty headed. Me, no ice cream! Seriously for those who don't know me in real life, I consider ice cream a food group. I have since bought ice cream to have on hand but I recognized this moment as a sign that the pills are doing something positive.
This morning I got up first and took Puppyman for his morning stroll and damn if it wasn't beautiful out. The sky was all shades of light blue with cloud ranging from wispy white to deep pearl gray. The light was bright despite the sun being largely covered by a band of gray. The trees were bare, their silhouettes looking elegant in the morning light. It was a perfect winter morning except that the recent warm days had melted away the snow. There was a barest suggestion of snow falling, so slight one could think that were seeing things. The air was still and no one else was out but us. Everywhere I looked the sky was beautifully different in it's shading and clouds, the sunlight lit the house and tree limbs subtly.
It is a new day.
Happily they were right, the doctor was calm, efficient with a kind face. I was also in much better spirits and better able to present myself, which no doubt helped her assessment of me - "You clearly have a good handle on your issues and know what you need to do to take care of yourself". That is very true, I just forget to actually take care of myself sometimes. As we were going over my medication she noted that the therapist (what a peach, again NOT) had written a different one. Smiling, I said, after correcting her three times I gave up. The doctor nodded. In that visit I also learned that my medication had gone generic and would only cost me $4 for a 30 day supply. I was doing proverbial cartwheels for hours about that information. One of the things I had been dreading was figuring out how to pay for happy pills that I expected to run more like $100 a month on no income. Did I mention we are both still out of work?
It has been almost two weeks since I started back on the medication, and a few days on the full dose (side effects required me to build up to the appropriate dosage). Yesterday I noticed that I was feeling happy in a way that had been largely missing for what feels like forever, but in reality has been a few months. The other day I noticed that my food cravings have changed. This was a positive side effect that I remember the strongest from the very first time I went on anti-depressants - I lost my food cravings which are clearly most emotionally driven and some of my appetite. It was an enormous revelation to me as someone who has battled with disordered thinking around food and my weight for the majority of my life. The other day I went to pick up some soda for Her Geekyness and thought "hm, ice cream sounds good". However the reality was that was patterned thinking because I walked away from the ice cream case empty headed. Me, no ice cream! Seriously for those who don't know me in real life, I consider ice cream a food group. I have since bought ice cream to have on hand but I recognized this moment as a sign that the pills are doing something positive.
This morning I got up first and took Puppyman for his morning stroll and damn if it wasn't beautiful out. The sky was all shades of light blue with cloud ranging from wispy white to deep pearl gray. The light was bright despite the sun being largely covered by a band of gray. The trees were bare, their silhouettes looking elegant in the morning light. It was a perfect winter morning except that the recent warm days had melted away the snow. There was a barest suggestion of snow falling, so slight one could think that were seeing things. The air was still and no one else was out but us. Everywhere I looked the sky was beautifully different in it's shading and clouds, the sunlight lit the house and tree limbs subtly.
It is a new day.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Holding my breath with hope
The television is on, it's early, nothing is really happening but yet everything is changing. My heart randomly seems to stop, tears well up at nothing in particular. The last time I watched an inauguration was Clinton's with his promises and charm; what I remember was hope and Maya Angelou. Now I am glued to the television. I am moved and fearful.
"The people we are waiting for is us". That piece of Obama's message was just stated again and it was projected that it will be a theme in his speech. That would certainly echo Kennedy's "ask not what your country can do for you but what will you do for your country" theme. It is a far cry from Bush's style of engagement with this country. We will just leave it that.
This is a day I always hoped for, very much tied in my mind with the hope of a woman president for this country, since I was a child. Raised in a democratic household, an academic household, and a feminist household gave me a sense of the injustice in the world but also they somehow managed to cultivate my innate hopefulness in humanity. That hopefulness, my optimistic nature has been scoffed even by my father who said a number of times that I would outgrow what he called my naivete. I would like to think that I have not.
My mother's first political activism was campaigning for Kennedy even though she was not old enough to vote (one had to be 21 years old at that time). She felt so connected to him that she sent him a birth announcement when I was born. it is had for me to imagine, even today doing the same with any president. I suppose it was a different time, or perhaps it was more about how connected one can feel to a public figure. It is true that I feel like I could actually have a conversation with Obama, but my mother's act feels like a stretch and yet I can imagine people sending birth announcement to him as she did all those years ago. She also received a formal acknowledgement from the White House. It is postmarked 11 days before he was assassinated.
Growing up my parents marched for civil rights, the women's movement, and against the Vietnam War. I went to a number of these events, though I remember little of them I am certain that they contributed to who I am today. I have no conscious memory of King's or RKF's assisnations but they too shaped me as they were topics that ran our kitchen table. Vocal condemnations rang out again Nixon and his politics. When Shirley Chisholm was campaigning her image littered our home, buttons on labels, and words of hope whispered, shouted. Stories that though my grandfather was a white European, an escapee from Dachau, he was so dark (helped by lying in the sun at every opportunity) that he and my grandmother were refused service. Even looking not white enough left one vulnerable to prejudice.
Today we have an African-American president. How did we get here? I don't actually know the answer, on a really deep profound level. I really don't. I am awed that we are but I also do not think this changes everything. Not even close but what a start to the potential new world. Now my heart has regulated, the tears have stopped (mostly), and my breathing is easier (again, mostly) because he is now officially our president and it does change everything regardless what happens next.
"The people we are waiting for is us". That piece of Obama's message was just stated again and it was projected that it will be a theme in his speech. That would certainly echo Kennedy's "ask not what your country can do for you but what will you do for your country" theme. It is a far cry from Bush's style of engagement with this country. We will just leave it that.
This is a day I always hoped for, very much tied in my mind with the hope of a woman president for this country, since I was a child. Raised in a democratic household, an academic household, and a feminist household gave me a sense of the injustice in the world but also they somehow managed to cultivate my innate hopefulness in humanity. That hopefulness, my optimistic nature has been scoffed even by my father who said a number of times that I would outgrow what he called my naivete. I would like to think that I have not.
My mother's first political activism was campaigning for Kennedy even though she was not old enough to vote (one had to be 21 years old at that time). She felt so connected to him that she sent him a birth announcement when I was born. it is had for me to imagine, even today doing the same with any president. I suppose it was a different time, or perhaps it was more about how connected one can feel to a public figure. It is true that I feel like I could actually have a conversation with Obama, but my mother's act feels like a stretch and yet I can imagine people sending birth announcement to him as she did all those years ago. She also received a formal acknowledgement from the White House. It is postmarked 11 days before he was assassinated.
Growing up my parents marched for civil rights, the women's movement, and against the Vietnam War. I went to a number of these events, though I remember little of them I am certain that they contributed to who I am today. I have no conscious memory of King's or RKF's assisnations but they too shaped me as they were topics that ran our kitchen table. Vocal condemnations rang out again Nixon and his politics. When Shirley Chisholm was campaigning her image littered our home, buttons on labels, and words of hope whispered, shouted. Stories that though my grandfather was a white European, an escapee from Dachau, he was so dark (helped by lying in the sun at every opportunity) that he and my grandmother were refused service. Even looking not white enough left one vulnerable to prejudice.
Today we have an African-American president. How did we get here? I don't actually know the answer, on a really deep profound level. I really don't. I am awed that we are but I also do not think this changes everything. Not even close but what a start to the potential new world. Now my heart has regulated, the tears have stopped (mostly), and my breathing is easier (again, mostly) because he is now officially our president and it does change everything regardless what happens next.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Enter? I think not.
Seriously, I mean I just cannot begin to fathom would possess anyone to okay this design. It is not as though I ever thought the Bratz dolls were an ideal toy, and certainly they wound up being desired and purchased for much younger children than the presumed market. Or were they? So hard to know what toy is really geared to what ages given the number of "spa" and make up like products geared to the under 8 years old set. I did kind of dig their weird proportions, so clearly not life like versus Barbies who look more like (on first glance) and designed as a "realistic" body ideal (though they are not). Mostly I thought the look reminded me of the lollipop heads label being thrown on women (mostly starlets and stars) who are scary thin. Not any better I grant you.
In the comments in the article were not surprising, especially the people who said the woman quoted in the article deserved the dilemma since she was unconscious enough to buy the doll in the first place. While there is that high and mighty piece of me which agrees wholeheartedly, a large piece thinks of that saying which includes words like: stone, cast, first. Really is there anyone who's parenting we totally agree with? I mean assuming you could live on their shoulder for a couple of weeks, not just what you see during visits or what they write about on their blogs. Probably no one. Would I buy any of these dolls for my child? My niece? No I would not. Would I ascribe to all my philosophies full on given the stress of life, the whine of the child (because though my parenting skills so far are stellar, children are born with their own personalities which means we only have so much control), lack of private time to regroup? Sadly, I am certain I would not. As much as I would like to do otherwise I know I would use the television too much, I would not read to my child every day, and would not go for walks every day talking about the species of trees, the migration habits of birds, and collecting autumn leaves to preserve in wax later while sipping warm cider.
However given the realities of the world today I would be tempted to sew all of her clothes, think hard about homeschool networks, and give up cable. And I would not be buying or receiving toys of this nature. Mostly because you know, I don't want strangers making comments on internet about what a slacker feminist parent I am.
In the comments in the article were not surprising, especially the people who said the woman quoted in the article deserved the dilemma since she was unconscious enough to buy the doll in the first place. While there is that high and mighty piece of me which agrees wholeheartedly, a large piece thinks of that saying which includes words like: stone, cast, first. Really is there anyone who's parenting we totally agree with? I mean assuming you could live on their shoulder for a couple of weeks, not just what you see during visits or what they write about on their blogs. Probably no one. Would I buy any of these dolls for my child? My niece? No I would not. Would I ascribe to all my philosophies full on given the stress of life, the whine of the child (because though my parenting skills so far are stellar, children are born with their own personalities which means we only have so much control), lack of private time to regroup? Sadly, I am certain I would not. As much as I would like to do otherwise I know I would use the television too much, I would not read to my child every day, and would not go for walks every day talking about the species of trees, the migration habits of birds, and collecting autumn leaves to preserve in wax later while sipping warm cider.
However given the realities of the world today I would be tempted to sew all of her clothes, think hard about homeschool networks, and give up cable. And I would not be buying or receiving toys of this nature. Mostly because you know, I don't want strangers making comments on internet about what a slacker feminist parent I am.
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