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« December 2007 | Main | February 2008 »
Coley has been sick...
January 31, 2008
...so we haven't left the house much this week. Aside from work, and even that I have been doing from home until today because you can't take a sick child to play at a healthy friend's house, you know.
I am glad I have a job that is so portable and flexible with me. Although there are times that I wished being sick (or taking care of a sick child) meant having a night off. I also find myself wishing, at times, that I had more of a regular job that involved regular contact with other human beings in my age range. But, you know...I am very fortunate, and I suppose there is always something to complain about no matter what the circumstances. I am sure if I worked in an office every day, surrounded by people, I would complain about that way more than I feel the urge to complain about my relative isolation.
And anyway, I just feel more isolated this week because I have not been out at the sites and really interacting with people. And when I have, it has been to do unpleasant things.
But anyway, I did manage to sneak out for a bit yesterday and take a nice walk around the block over and over again. Actively combating the urge to think about diseases and statistics and predictable outcomes. But also retrieving calls from work about such things as "Where is such and such located?" and "I can't find thisandthat." from people who know I have even less of an idea where such and such is, because I'm not standing in the relative proximity of where such and such was alleged to have been left by another person who is not me. (and today I talked to my boss and reiterated an old comedy line from, I think, Roseanne Barr about how the uterus must be some sort of homing device, because people are always asking me where things are even though I had nothing to do with the getting them there.)
At any rate, that's not even what I was going to write about tonight. What I was going to say is that this afternoon we had to run out of the house abruptly to run an errand that I totally, in my pajama-clad-all-day induced stupor I had totally spaced off. And when we came back into the house...in reentering the place I had been holed up for what felt like eternity...I could actually smell it. And it smelled nice. I guess that's on account of how I did all of the rancid potato soup dishes earlier in the week, but also on account of how I have spontaneously sort of started doing this candle-lighting ritual at the end of my day. Nothing elaborate or extraordinary, but just lighting candles and burning some incense. Sprinkling a little lavender oil on things in the hopes of scattering some of the anxiety that hovers like the vultures who inexplicably live in my neighborhood.
You know. Rituals. Tiny ones that you don't even notice you are doing until they are habitual. Little ways to introduce consistency and constancy in the middle of chaos. But pervasive and far-reaching enough to hold back the vultures with the heavily wax scent of lavender as it rises from the wick.
World Leader Pretend Mix
January 29, 2008
I have been in my own little world, so I might as well pretend I am the leader. These are the current songs that compose the soundtrack of my pretend world that I am the pretend leader of:
REM - World Leader Pretend
Grey Matter - Burn No Bridges
Cat Power - Bathysphere
Dirty Three - Deep Waters
Jesus and Mary Chain - Just Like Honey
Eastern Dub Tactic - Brothers and Sisters
Grey Matter - Chutes and Ladders
De La Soul - Held Down (ft. Cee Lo)
Air - The Vagabond (ft. Beck)
Cibo Matto - Le Pain Perdu
The Clash - Bankrobber
Fugazi - Waiting Room
English Beat - I Confess
Jets To Brazil - Resistance Is Futile
The Clash - I'm Not Down
Get the whole mix here: http://www.sendspace.com/file/dsp8oo
Resale Zine Issues 1-7
January 26, 2008
Anyone who has ever visited my home knows I keep a wide variety of reading materials in every room. Especially notable is the towering, leaning stack of various publications I pile on the back of the toilet. Probably not the best place to store things, for the sake of preservation, but it serves a useful purpose.
Whenever I get a new publication, I add it to the stack. Occasionally the stack will topple over (monk calls this a magalanche!) and reordering occurs in the restacking...and perhaps a little weeding out.
So it was that one day I chanced upon a zine of unknown origin atop the stack. I sat down to read it, and was engrossed in the world of a traveling, organic farming, witty conversation having woman named Amie. And all of her stick-people creations.
Now, I am not sure if I picked this up on a random zine-buying excursion...or maybe long ago. I didn't know if this was one that wormed its way out of my vintage zine collection, or perhaps I picked it up a couple of years ago at the small press conference. Maybe it was one of the lovelies in the surprise package sent to me by friends in New York, or perhaps it was sent in hopeful trade for one of the zines I have long since ceased publishing. There was no date. No context, really, other than the activities of the characters, and no connection to my life, other than absolute fascination.
So, I sent an email to zinestress and asked if there were more. I had issue 2, I think. I wanted to know what became of Amie and her band of random interesting friends. Amie was kind enough to write back, so I sent her some money for all of her back issues, as well as the forthcoming issue 8.
So it is that I now have the complete resale collection. It's really an amazingly simple story, but so wonderful. Amie has a way of picking the most important snippets out of conversations to weave an entire novel out of scant dialog. You really get to know the characters, and to understand their expressions, even though they are stick people. hahaha. She's truly a gifted storytelling, plus...it doesn't hurt that she has led a very interesting and diverse life - working at a carnival and on an organic farm. Living on a boat for awhile. But even still, it's the way she interacts with the people around her in every situation she is in that really makes the story special. You get the feeling that Amie could be the checker at a supermarket and still manage to extract the joy of living from the people she encounters.
It's truly a wonderful read, and I recommend them highly. If you want to order your very own copies of Resale zine, you can email Amie at: handwrittenisbetter at yahoo dot com. She'll give you the scoop on how much and how to get them. :)
I might just have to dust off my ute for this one...
January 18, 2008
N.H. House votes to require insurance coverage for home births
CONCORD, N.H. -- The House voted Wednesday to require insurance companies to pay for children delivered at home by midwives in New Hampshire if the mother's plan would have paid for the birth in a hospital.Supporters noted that the federal government reimburses women for home delivery under the Medicaid program.
Currently, a woman with health insurance that includes maternity benefits must pay the entire cost if the delivery is at home.
And it's about damn time, too. I paid 10 bux out of pocket copay for a ridiculously expensive hospital birth for my first son, and about 1500 or so out of pocket for a very nice, healing homebirth for my second son.
While homebirth is not for everyone, and no woman should feel pressured to have an unmedicated birth...I think many women would benefit from having the option available to them without having to pay the cost of a midwife out of pocket.
And, hey...The Business of Being Born IS news to me, so I am glad Vanessa mentioned it.
(on a side note...I've noticed lately that reading blogs has become very alienating. I think a lot of you folks who are still blogging regularly assume the rest of us are in on all of the yummy internetty goodness that is out there. It makes me feel totally lost to read Pandagon these days, because names are dropped without any reference or link, and elsewhere, people say things like "of course EVERYONE knows about" this or that and such and such. Well, not everyone knows and not everyone has time to read up and keep up...so please don't talk down to your audience! We love you and want to be included even if we don't have time to keep up!)
Where I am at
January 14, 2008
Transitions are always so difficult. I used to blame the children, but it's really me. To go from 2 weeks of reflective solitude to a week of constant interaction is tiring for me. It wears me down. And then I start to feel selfish, because what parent resents the interaction...and I have made so many choices to ensure that my children are able to interact.
My kinder voice pipes in softly on occasion "It's ok...it's just a transition." But it gets lost in the white noise of frustration.
It's difficult, I think, to be a reclusive person with children. Also, sometimes it's difficult to be a romantic recluse. I can never have enough privacy OR enough intimacy. I can only comfortably deal with people one at a time...which is undeniably ironic, considering I make a living delivering training to groups of people. haha.
Sometimes I feel like every single aspect of my life is in direct conflict with another aspect. If I were a program, there would be little error messages all over the place.
But I am not a computer program. I am a human. So I sometimes hide in my room while the children scream at each other. I sometimes avoid talking to people rather than deal with conflict. I sometimes ask for more intimacy than I probably deserve. And I sometimes harbor a secret desire to run away to a desert island and escape.
And I guess that's ok, even though right now it doesn't feel ok.
Comparative Booger Eating.
January 10, 2008
It's been a rough couple of days for everyone. The boys returned from a 2-week stay with their dad, ending my blissful beginning to a gentle new year and heralding the return, for them, of more coarse behavior that is not allowed in the presence of their father. They tell me he is more strict than me, but I'm pretty sure he doesn't beat them, so I am not sure why they have all of this errant energy. Most likely, it's just the result of transition. They are acclimating to being with me, and I am acclimating to sharing my space again.
16 hours ago, I twittered: "Wondering why all of these small people have invaded my home and are demanding things of me. It's a really difficult transition." And that was at the BEGINNING of my day. By the time chess club was over and I was picking up Cole's friend to bring them to their afternoon activity, I had had it. I was beat. Here's just one example of the kind of stuff I am dealing with...
I got the other 7 year old into the car, Cole made some reference to having a finger in his nose, and the following conversation took place:
M (age 11) (in an attempt to shame his brother): Cole eats his boogers.
P (age 7) (the friend...absolutely unfazed by this fact): Oh yeah...me too. They're good, but you just can't chew them.
C (age 7) (the perpetual star of the sickening circus): One time? I pulled a big booger out of my nose? And it was in the shape of a ladle? And I was eating SOUP. So I used my booger as a ladle...and spooned my soup with it.
Mom (age 38) (gagging!): Uh...guys. That's REAL impressive, but you are making me want to urp. Can you please not compare your booger eating experiences in my earshot?
(snickering as all three boys plot their next momnoying topic of conversation)
I guess it just goes to show that amidst the delirium-inciting chaotic tedium (no...that is not a contradiction. Just try living my life for a day and you would understand) there is always a conversation that reminds me that there is a tremendous amount of rich entertainment in parenting...even if it does turn my stomach.
And with that, I close the book on the day and go to sleep, in hopes that tomorrow will be slightly less shellshockishy.
Follow-up to obligatory political post
January 9, 2008
You know, I hate to sound like I'm throwing myself some sort of weird superstitious pity party...but I really need to learn to keep my mouth shut about what I desire. Because it never fails. It's not really that I always cheer for the underdog...instead, it seems like whoever I cheer for somehow ends up becoming the underdog.
hahaha.
Obligatory political post
January 8, 2008
By the way...I am astonished to discover that I might actually feel semi-ok about actually voting for people who might win in an election. So I thought I would share that I am really kind of hoping for an Obama/Edwards ticket in November. Hillary can bite me. hahaha.
Reunion
January 7, 2008
I was thinking about writing another yo-yo post...and in fact I did start writing one...but the thing is that my whole point with this yo-yo thing, or the lesson I am needing to learn, is to get OUT of my head for a bit, rather than more into my head. And though I do feel that you have to do one to get to the other, I think I'm going a bit overboard with the introspection lately. Which, you know, will happen when you are delivered somewhat devastating existential news in pretty much the eve of a) the holidays and b) an extended period of time in which you do not have to work or look after little people who rely on you.
That period is ending. And while it's been an enjoyable vacation in a weird way, I am really ready to have some distractions. Not to mention I miss those little people who rely on me awfully awfully much.
And all I can do when I think of how happy I will be when those boys walk through the door in the morning is stare at the screen with a little smile on my face and brimming wetness in my eyes. So I guess that, my friends, is that.
Yo-Yo (part 1)
January 6, 2008
Susan asked me last night to tell the story about the yo-yo trick I did on the Jane Pratt show. This is what Susan does. She draws me out. She makes me think all of my stories are interesting, and that I am fascinating. And she draws other people in in the same way. Always thoughtful. Always remembering little details that I allow myself to forget, as well as some that I would never find important in the moment, but which later turn out to be integral.
As I write this I am struck with this technical question about writing that I am not sure I know how to answer. It seems to me that the difference between expository and creative writing is that if I were creating the character of susan in a novel, I would have to find a way to do so by her character alone, rather than describing her outright in words. I am not sure if I am capable of that. I mean, I can't think of a human characteristic or behavior that would convey the aspect of Susan I just described in a succinct manner. But then, perhaps it is not the sum of the novel to be succinct. Perhaps I lack patience. In fact, I know I lack patience. I want to tell all the story all at once. In fact, if I could just skip the telling of it and just somehow psychically transmit how the story or the events made me FEEL, I would be very happy indeed.
But anyway, I am getting away from myself here.
"It was around the world" I called out from the other room, where I had gone on some unknown errand that I can neither remember now, nor probably did I even know then. "And I was SITTING DOWN."
Gasps of awed appreciation erupted from the kitchen where Susan and Brian were sitting. Not insincere, but exaggerated. I smiled as I sat down and told them the story.
It's funny how I always come to this point in my life where I realize that so many of the things I have done in my past...so many of these stories I tell and so many of these public writings I have done, serve as signposts to direct me back to myself in the present. I call them breadcrumbs. I like that term, because it alludes to a sort of personal mythology, much like the hansel and gretel story refers to a collective mythology. I leave myself reminders of what is important whenever I communicate with someone or even when I communicate to myself through my writing or whatever form of art I create.
I don't think this makes me unique in any way. I think we all have a personal mythology that we share, and I believe that it can be useful for everyone to record it in some way.
The yo-yo story is important to my life right now on many levels. I'm not sure if I will be able to get to them all here, but I think it would be instructive for me to write about it for some time, if necessary, to get my mind back on track...via breadcrumbs dropped in the lainie lexicon.
It's a simple story, really, that is a part of a much larger story. The Jane Pratt yo-yo story is actually in the middle of my yo-yo history. I'm sure I've told parts of it before, but I will start with the Jane Pratt yo-yo trick and move backwards and forwards from there as it suits me. Because you know why? This is my blog, and I can write any damn way I feel like it. hahaha.
So it happened that in 1993 or thereabouts, I was asked to be on the Jane Pratt show about alternative media. This was pre-blog. This was old-school zine geekery. I was on the show with the girls from Ben Is Dead, as well as a independent documentarian, Adrian Tomine (a now fairly famous comic book artist) and some professor of media studies from some unnamed University who, Jane Pratt was heard to say, was there to give "a depthless topic some depth." (We simps on the panel got a kick out of that little faux pas.)
I remember Karin from Ben is Dead was wearing a band t-shirt from I think the band Silverfish, and it said something like "lips, tits, hips, POWER." She was asked to cover up the part about the tits, so she went on stage with a piece of black electrical tape covering THAT WORD. Ironically enough, I was sitting next to her, wearing a Chumbawamba t-shirt adorned with the word "Shhhh!" in large letters, which was actually somewhat of a commentary on the oppressive censorship by exclusion of the media. The back of the shirt said "Go on, you've got 5 seconds...say something outrageous" but no one in the audience saw that.
At any rate, I could probably write several essays on the whole experience (and I most likely HAVE) but the point of this particular post is my yo-yo history, so I will proceed to the very brief yo-yo tastic event. Which is merely that I totally unconsciously did around the world with my yo-yo while seated without even thinking about it...and I didn't even realize I had done it until I viewed a taping of the show several months (perhaps even YEARS) later.
It is this that is striking to me, and this that serves a useful purpose to me now. Because if I had been aware of the fact that I was doing a somewhat complicated yo-yo trick on the stage of a live television show...I probably would have clonked myself in the head and somehow managed to clonk at least one of my fellow panel members as well.
But in the unconscious act is an inherent confidence. And in the remembering of this that I must receive a lesson of quieting the meta-Lainie that I am finding myself listening too too much of late. The form of consciousness that not only feels it is necessary to remain hyper aware of what I am doing, but also overly aware of how what I am doing is perceived by others. And I search for other breadcrumbs I have left for myself that have, in the past, helped me to overcome this meta-consciousness. I remember a few years ago I came up with the concept of "just drive." Based on an awareness that I had that the less conscious I was of what I was doing behind the wheel, the easier it was to drive. And also various quotes from Lao Tzu and inspired by Taoism that have always seemed important to me help to guide me back to a path I have veered from for whatever reason I may have veered.
I am a thoughtful person. I am an introspective person. I think a lot, and I think a lot about who I am and what motivates me. This thinking is not always a conscious choice even when it's a conscious act.
So the yo-yo story reminds me to relax my awareness of my self, even while maintaining the necessary amount of introspection to maintain who I am.
But there's another level to the yo yo story that I will save for my next post, which I might write later tonight, or I might write tomorrow...depending on how engrossed I become in the writing of it.
Ye Olde Birthday Poste.
January 6, 2008
Hello. It is my birthday today.
Or it was...yesterday. About 11 minutes ago is, I suppose, when it technically ended.
And it was a good day. It began, I suppose, with the evening before. I had a nice hangout with a good friend. I suppose you can go back even further to the afternoon before, when I got a haircut.
To tell the damn truth, I have been on vacation from work and kids for over a week, and I feel like I have been contemplating, anticipating, prevaricating, pontificating, and celebrating the end of the 38th year of my life and the embarkment on the 39th for pretty much the entire time I have been existing in this strange realm of absolutely no responsibility for a single other human. So pardon me if I don't allow the celebration part to last a bit longer than the actual day in question.
It has been a particularly thinky time off for me. Partially due to the fact that I am always thinky this time of the year...but also due to the fact that I have recently had some distressing news about the health of my mother. I am not sure if it's normal for a person to be thrown into self-examination when faced with the potential of a parent dying, or if I am just an exceedingly self-centered person...but the news of my mother's ill-health has forced me to do a whole ton of thinking about who I am, what I am doing, what I plan to do, and how the hell am I going to do it.
Of course there is worry for my mom in there, and worry about the rest of the family. I am trying hard not to overdo any of it. And I suppose it is actually healthy to be self-reflective at a time like this, because the only person in this equation who I have any control over is my damn self...or maybe that's just, you know, rationalizing.
Anyway, I keep finding myself trying to find words for all of this, and having difficulty expressing...and I think it's because it's too much for one sitting, and try as I might to get it ALL out, I can only get out a little at a time. And I am thinking perhaps that is the best way to write about it as well as deal with it all emotionally. One little piece at a time...consistently and methodically. Well, perhaps not either of those in terms of tenor and tone, but definitely in terms of frequency.
I think that's the first step in this process...the decision that processing is going to occur. And I intend to take a little time each day to write a bit about what I am thinking, feeling, creating...or just noticing. Just one item a day...maybe sometimes more than one...that indicates where my head was at that day.
I think one thing I did wrong in 2007 was to stop writing as frequently. Whether it is public or private, I need to make space for myself to write every day. To work through whatever it is I need to work through...and hope that somewhere along the way, someone who needed to hear about what I was working on might read something I had to say and perhaps not have to start at complete and absolute square one.