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Notes on a Walk

June 20, 2009

Walking through streets of my old neighborhood. Making observations based on remembrances of Halloweens past. So quiet here. So still.

I can totally *feel* myself covering the same amount of ground in so many fewer strides. Here, I am a giant. I go league by league.

There's the house where we babysat and, finding a mortar and pestle, told our parents there was drug paraphernalia.

That was the house with the trampoline...there, they had a pet skunk. I know all of these houses, and I know their histories.

I can identify the authentic from the imposters. I hear all the quiet mysteries.

My best friend lived here, her mother lives here, still. The split rail fence that never made sense to child me appeals to adult me.

I finally, as a grown adult, fully understand what the punks always said about the suburbs, though I thought I always did.

When everthing is pristine and clean, the old and dirty and out of place is obvious. The lure of a packaged serenity.

I camp out in the wet grass of my mom's back yard and hold these moments slightly, gently...before I let them go.

Posted at 11:40 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Getting things done (ish)

June 6, 2009

I have a crazy method for keeping chores in order when I have way more to do than I could ever possibly get done. I keep a huge list of all of the chores and activities that I need to get done on a regular basis, and I find interesting and creative ways of randomizing that list. I have been in robot mode all week, getting ready. Writing lists, and checking things off. And just moving from task to task...

So it was nice when friend stopped by today to rescue me from my self-inflicted state of doingness. It popped me out of productivity mode for a bit (even though my productivity mode was turning into making lists and watching TV instead of actually doing anything) and it was good to relate to another human being for a bit.

I don't think there's enough of that in my life. Normally, I am not a huge fan of random "pop-ins" from friends, but I am a HUGE fan of talking to people about random things. My day-to-day life doesn't involve enough of that, I don't think. Particularly with people I don't talk to often. I would like to change that, and invite more diverse perspectives and conversations into my life. It's making me really think about an idea that my neighbor M had about possibly having weekly or monthly "cafe's" in my house. Converting my rental room into more of a gathering space for artists and craftspeople or just plain old freaks and weirdos to come and share their knowledge and have conversations and maybe coffee. But how can I do it and still get some money from that space? Do I charge and entrance fee? Do I have workshops and fundraisers? Do I leave out a tip jar and sell $1 cups of coffee?

I've actually had this idea several times over, so it's not like I've never considered opening my home up to this kind of shared, communal space. I'm kind of weird in that I really love talking to and meeting new people, but I also really need a great deal of privacy. I get frustrated with housemate situations, because I always feel like I'm being anti-social with my housemates, and I worry that I seem snooty when I'm actually just retreating to my room to be alone. And I have this huge collection of zines, great music to listen to and share...and friends who do a lot of interesting stuff. It would be so neat if I could offer a space for people to teach and share and sell their creations...and perhaps incorporate some sort of zine library into the space, as well.

This is something I'm going to have to consider while I'm gone. I could easily make that back room more of an office space, and there's still plenty of floor space for movement or creation. It's a pretty versatile space, and has it's own bathroom. What I need to do is fine one person who I can rely on to brainstorm with me and come up with ideas for how to utilize it, how to "market" it, and how to make it happen.

Maybe I can just throw in a couple more washing machines and go with the idea I had to create an anarchist laundromat called "revolutions." hahaha.

Anyway, I know it's a crackpot, hare-brained scheme...but it's worth considering. There aren't enough cozy little spaces for people to just GATHER and talk and share without any sort of intervening commercial interest. Granted, my commercial interest is generating some sort of income for my spare room, but I'm not trying to sell anything other than the space...just trying to find a way to have my space, and my privacy too.

Posted at 3:12 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Preparing for a journey

June 2, 2009

I am going home, with all that entails, for a brief, but extended, amount of time. Here are my hopes for that journey.

First, I am thankful for my job, and hope it still exists when I return. hahaha. I'm thankful that I have a job from which I can depart for an extended amount of time so I can be with a loved one who is ill. I'm thankful that I have a job that affords me the luxury of being able to afford such a trip. I'm thankful I will be missed while I am gone.

I am also thankful for my friends, who will be looking after things for me while I am gone, and who I can trust and rely on when I need them. I'm thankful for their energy and creativity. I'm thankful for the friends I am temporarily leaving behind, as well as the friends I will be reacquainting myself with. I'm thankful I will be missed while I am gone, and that I will be welcomed back when I return.

I am thinking, specifically, about my friend John, with the photographer's eye that never ceases to amaze me. Mostly because I was just sitting here with another friend, getting psyched about the trip, and showed her his photos and we both were all "Awww....beautiful!...Love him!" And that made me think about John. Always smiling. Always happy. Always sweet. And how thankful I am for the ever-presence of such people in my life. People who rejoice in life completely, and still remain aware of the fact that the rejoicing is itself a privilege to rejoice in...and so we create.

And so, my goal for myself while I am away is to reconnect with that joy in living that doesn't just inspire but ENFORCES creativity. And to find new ways to release that joy...and in so doing, new ways to connect with life.

If I can do that, I will feel satisfied. And I'm pretty sure I can do it...so I'm pretty sure I'll come home feeling very very damn satisfied.

Perhaps I'll write more when I'm there and in it. :)

Posted at 3:14 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I was reminded last night...

March 17, 2009

That I am an original nerdster. Or perhaps I was more like second wave nerdster. Either way, I have been blogging for a long time, and evidently, the fact that I no longer blog regularly makes me EVEN MORE legit. Woot!

And, of course, when my waning desire to blog is validated, the desire to blog ceases to wane and begins to wax...so here I am waxing to all of you who still visit this space on occasion. Call it an update, of sorts. Random meanderings of more than 140 characters, unbelievably.

It's been a wonderful sxsw week so far. To think, before I became involved in the whole interactive festival, I scoffed at sxsw like every other grouchy Austinite, not wanting to deal with traffic and crowds that increase in proportion to your proximity to downtown.

This was the first year in 3 or 4 years that I did not manage to score a pass for the interactive festival. I did not witness a single panel directly, and I did not think I was going to be able to attend any of the good parties, seeing as how I have the children with me this spring break.

And yet...through the miracle of Twitter, I was able to keep up with at least the chatter during the panels, and through the wonders of children who are old enough to throw mama out of the house when her friends-she-only-sees-once-a-year are in town, I was actually able to make it out to some of the best events I've ever attended in the history of my sxsw goingness.

It's wonderful...refreshing...and altogether too rare for me to find time for a party, much less 2-3 parties within the span of a weekend. And yet, this past weekend, I forced myself to make the time, and was so glad for it.

More and more these days I realize how much my life is like it has always been. How I am the sum total of all of my experiences - good, bad, and indifferent - and I'm quite happy with the results. I can't imagine myself being any other way. And I realized this weekend that I have almost always met my favorite people in ways that some people label disconnected, virtual, or otherwise unreal. In high school, it was through zines that I made my best acquaintances - some distant, some close...both geographically and emotionally. These days, I am even less inclined to meet people cold, without some sort of technology-mitigated introduction. My life is busy, hectic, scattered, and oddly scheduled. And meeting people by chance is even more rare than the rarity of actually getting together with the people I DO know and love and, quite frankly, those people take precedence because...quite frankly...most new people I meet bore the living crap out of me. hahaha.

This is why my hackles get raised when people question the legitimacy of online relationships. Of course they are real...regardless of their scope. They are no less real than people you meet while at work, at the gym, at a bar, or in line at a grocery store. None of these situations are more organic than the other, and in any of these situations, people can lie about Who They Really Are and end up surprising you down the road by being Someone Else Altogether.

And so it is that I find myself every year - and occasionally, when I am lucky, more frequently - in the company of some of the most wonderful people I have ever had the privilege to meet. I am so glad I had the opportunity to share a couple of parties, some meals, karaoke, and a lovely adventure involving flowers, cameras, and silliness.

I know everyone thinks their circle of friends are the best. I know it's cliche to say "My friends are the awesomest and I am incredibly blessed to have them." But damnit if it isn't true of all of my little circles. And damnit if I am not blessed. But my twitter/sxswi/nerd circle is remarkable in the same way that most conscientiously selected communities are remarkable. It is a group of people who are all connected in varied and diverse ways, who are committed to learning from and teaching each other via shared experience. Each person has some unique, integral contribution to the group as a whole...and the group as a whole is a spectacular organism. A force to be reckoned with. One that I admire from the outside, and feel fortunate to occasionally participate in from the inside. I could probably write a bunch more superlatives and still not adequately articulate my appreciation for everyone...

So I will just say thank you to my sxsw/twitter nerds for yet another wonderful year of celebration. It's so timely that this event happens every year right before the start of springtime. All of the thoughtfulness, the laughter, the learning, the partying, the hugging, and the LOVE is such a wonderful way to remind myself that this season is all about renewal, hope, joy, and life.

Safe travels to everyone. I will miss your faces and the sound of your laughter, but fortunately I will still have your words...until next year!

Posted at 4:00 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Sidelined

January 21, 2009

I have a difficult time admitting to myself when I am in pain. I like to think I have a really high pain threshold and I just don't experience discomfort as intensely as most people...but who really knows whether or not that's true. Maybe I'm just not IN as much pain as most people. Maybe I'm really well practiced in the art of denial...

So I found myself with what seemed to be an injury a few weeks ago. A tweak in my right foot that ran the gamut from sharp, shooting pain to dull, throbbing ache whenever I would wake up in the morning and first try standing on my foot. I have to say, as old as it makes me sound, I thought it was the freaking weather! I brushed it off, thinking I just needed to walk it out. And I proceeded to maintain my normal level of activity (which isn't terribly strenuous, but I do like to dance around a lot and I love my daily walks!)

It took me about 3 weeks to admit to myself that it wasn't going away. Ha. Hey! I never said I wasn't a stubborn old lady! And I finally admitted that I might need to modify my behavior in order to allow myself to heal. In other words...I have put myself on the injured players list, and instead of heading out with the dog at 2 AM like usual, I am forcing myself to read a book. And instead of getting up and dancing around my bedroom when Sly and the Family Stone comes up in the mix (Uuuuuunderrrrrrdawwwwwwg!)...I shake my bootie in the reclined position only, thank you very much.

And my foot feels much much better. Of course, there's always that period, when recovering from an injury, where you feel better enough to resume activity...but you really aren't. For that, I have a good friend to remind me to sit my ass down and wait it out.

And so, because I like to draw comparisons and create metaphors out of silly things like an old lady injuring her foot because she's a klutz and can't seem to be able to resist twisting ankles or stepping on errant legos...I've been thinking about all of the ways in which we refuse to recognize when we need to take it easy. And how eager we are to continue on as if we feel no pain, when in fact a little rest will renew our vigor and allow us to invest ourselves in our activities with greater enthusiasm. Not to mention how being sidelined brings the importance of our normal activities into sharp focus. I mean, I have always appreciated my daily walks, but now I YEARN for them. And perhaps the pining away is good for me. I've always said that the better part of love is the longing.

What else, I wonder, physical, mental, emotional...what else do I need to take a break from? Are there things from which a break would allow not renewed vigor, but a realization that I didn't really need to be doing, thinking, feeling it in the first place? Are there things I have taken a break from inadvertantly or unconsciously that I need to renew?

And what have we collectively been neglecting? Obviously we, as a nation, have just rid ourselves of a horrifyingly debilitating entity. How long do we allow ourselves to heal before we do in fact, pick ourselves up, put our best walking shoes on, and go forth bravely into this new era.

I'm being told that the time is now, but I feel like I am still nursing some wounds.

Posted at 9:04 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

For a friend who is a closet situationist.

January 19, 2009

Yes
I realize
It's all a gigantic spectacle.

It's
just that for once
It's a spectacle I can enjoy.

Posted at 10:47 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Do you ever just stop short, breathless, in the face of your own stupidity?

January 14, 2009

There are things I need to say, but I stutter to remember. I shudder to think. And I think the reason I don't blog much anymore us that I fear that I might appear insincere by being overly sincere. Too often I find myself perched on my own shoulder, narrating the events I am experiencing as they happen. Too little am I immersed in the happening.

And yet, I wonder if that's just what being a writer is all about. This endless need to reinterpret events even as they are happening. To draw analogy and metaphor from life itself. Or am I merely justifying my own insanity by calling it art in some form.

I told him "I lost my zen." He said "Don't worry. You always do that."

But I found it, and took a walk, listening to music. Trying not to trip myself from kicking myself. "I'm so freaking MAD AT MYSELF!" Was what I was screaming inside my head.

It must have been just about exactly a year ago that I last saw her. I'm finding all sorts of reasons to justify having not seen her since. Self-pitying me says that I deserved to choose my last memory of her, and wouldn't she prefer it this way? Is it egotistical or insecure to think that I did/did not matter enough in a person's life to have my presence be desired?

But it was such a wonderful last way to remember her. So the mystical me tries to convince me that it was meant to be the last time. It was meant to be goodbye. And then the self-flagellating (and perhaps justifiably so) me smacks me upside the head with the memory of her specifically saying how much she wanted company. How abandoned and isolated she had felt.

He tells me "You can't help it, babe. You are busy. You have a busy life." He tells me "It's not your fault."

But it is my fault. Because there is a choice in whether or not to be a presence in someone's life. There is a decision in that. Even if it's to not. And I have made that decision about many people in my life. And this time I was wrong. And this one I regret.

There is so much temptation in these moments to draw conclusions about my own life. I think to myself...how cliched to frame the death of another person with one's own neurotic observations about oneself, as if it had anything to do with her.

"Sick of the solemn solipsism of the first person...(I) think it would be a good idea to stop narrating," she texted.

He responded, "haha. Probably."

Posted at 1:32 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I have reached that point in my vacation...

December 30, 2008

Where I am starting to wish I could be a stay-at-home mom and/or housewife. Yes, I know...there are inherent challenges in that career choice, as well...but man, I would love to be able to stay home and cook and clean all day every day. I would give it a year or so before I would get antsy and need an outside job.

Anyway, I decided that I need to make a list of the good and bad habits I have developed during this break, so maybe in 5 years I will read them again and go "Oh crap! I should have kept doing that!" Or "Criminy! THAT'S when I started doing that! I need to cut that out!"

(I'll let you decide which of these habits are good, and which are bad! I'm sure I don't know.)

laying in bed surfing the internets until 11 AM (or later, as evidenced by the time this is being posted.
staying up until 3 in the morning, dancing around my room and listening to music.
writing endless love-struck entries in my private journal.
NOT watching news shows.
Playing the Sims 2 (until my computer decided spontaneously that it can't handle the graphics, and started to blank the screen within 5 minutes of startup time.)
Planning and plotting news ways of being creative in the upcoming year.
Totally embracing my oddness, my kids' oddness, and our odd ways of communicating oddness.
REALLY not putting up with any bullshit from people, and not pretending to be nice and happy when I'm not feeling nice and happy.
Making a conscious effort to not complain.
Using google task lists excessively
Going out to be among friends whenever the opportunity arises, rather than giving in to my hermitude and staying home.
Making plans with people, rather than waiting for people to make plans with me.
Driving less, walking more.
Folding clothes right out of the dryer when I go to the laundromat
Using the dryers at the laundromat more frequently (when I can't hang clothes out on the line)
Not stressing about work so much.
Actively envisioning and articulating a "plan B" for my life.

I'm sure there are more...maybe I will add them as I think of them. Have your habits changed over the holidays?

Posted at 11:08 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I'm so mad they don't have a podcast!

December 30, 2008

Anyway...so on Sunday, the kids and I were off on a mad adventure that netted no results except overly much time in the car together and a fairly filling meal at Chuy's. Our intention was the visit the gardening center so I could get some good soil to lay in the box (that I builded all by myself!) But the gardening center is closed until after New Year's, so all we REALLY did was listen to the Hank Williams tribute broadcast of American Routes.

And I am so mad they don't appear to have a podcast, because it was an awesome show. (More and more, as I grow accustomed to dvrland, I find myself wanting to rewind the radio.)

Anyway, the boys were unimpressed with all of this Hank Williams malarky. I tried to explain to M. that Hank Williams influenced a WHOLE BUNCH of artists that he probably enjoys to this day, or is at worst twice removed as an influence. He wasn't buying it. "Mom." He explained, "this is *folk* music."

"Yeah, and?" I pressed...and then, resigned, sighed "Oh, you will understand once you are older and get your heart broken once or twice."

I could hear him rolling his eyes at me in the back seat "I'd rather take up DRINKING than listen to FOLK music."

"Well, ha!" I giggled, "They pretty much go hand in hand, my dear."

Posted at 2:28 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

It's been nice...

December 28, 2008

The other day I was at Ross...it was the day after xmas, in fact, and I was shopping for some coffee mugs and hopefully a punch bowl (which I didn't find). It was crazy ISH there, but not insane like those horror stories you hear about the day after xmas rushes.

When I finally gave up on the punch bowl, I went to stand in line at the one open checkout counter. It was a dude who was being harassed by a woman who was disputing the price of an item he had rung up. He handled the situation with such calm, sincere helpfulness, I was somewhat amazed. And impressed.

By the time I was next in line, they had opened another check out counter, but I didn't bother moving. I was kind of mesmerized by the way this dude was handling the crowds, being polite, even when people weren't polite to him...and just dealing with things in a totally even-handed manner.

When it was time for me to check out, he asked me how I was doing as he rang up my mugs. I said fine, thanks...how are you? His answer: "I am blessed."

Blessed. It's such a perfect word, isn't it? Although it is often used in a religious context, it's also delightfully secular (occasionally even seXular, as I originally accidentally typed there.) Not only that, but it's very, very true. I am blessed. And I hope I can remember that when I am faced with situations that require me to respond with polite, sincere aplomb.

I hope you all have a blessed new year.

Posted at 12:28 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I am having trouble getting work done...so I shall blog!

December 17, 2008

About random stuff. In no particular order:

The 12-year old birthday party went off swimmingly. Throughout the night, I was amazed and delighted by the wonderful young men all of my friends' boys are growing into. They were all well-behaved and sweet to me, and all seemed to have an awesome, fun, rocking time. I managed to capture some of the sweetness on video, which I'm glad for. Lots of video gaming, junk food eating, dancing around, noise making fun. Most of the boys stayed up all night (which I hope didn't piss off any parents...but every time I was tempted to make them go to sleep, I would walk out into the living room, and they were all having so. much. fun. I just didn't have the heart to make them stop) and I didn't even OPEN my bottle of wine. None of them drove me crazy. Not even Cole, who is known for being The Kid Who Throws The Temper Tantrum Whenever Guests Are Over. Sniff. My boys. They are all grown up.

It is cold in Austin. I can tell this because everyone is wandering around bundled up in sub-zero proof winter clothing, and wondering if stores will be closed due to "inclement weather." Seriously...Austin is like the little grandkid sitting at the knee of the grandfather who had to walk uphill to school both ways in the driving blizzard. Meanwhile, I throw on my cable-knit sweater and my arm warmers, and I am set. Of course, this makes me an awful, terrible parent because I always assume that it's much more bearable to the children than it is. So tomorrow we go to Target and get a fresh batch of hats and gloves for the kids to wear for the 5 cold days we will have, and then promptly lose on the playground when they throw them off on that day that it starts out at 37 degrees and ends up 93 degrees. Ah, Austin...

I was thinking today...there is a lot I will endure in terms of craziness to witness the genius of a true artist. I'm lucky to have some in my life. What amazes me even more are the people who don't realize that the 98% of things we love about artists are produced by the same tendencies of the 2% of things that drive us crazy about them. Fuck it...with some artists that I know, if there was 2% of truly great art in them, and 98% of the crazy...I'd probably still call it a wash. We need poets, we need painters, people. Deal with it. This world is not fit for sensitive souls.

More and more I am understanding that I am an introvert...and that extroverts have no idea how to relate to me. I'm thinking I need to write a book about the care and feeding of the introvert in your life. My housemate, for instance...great guy. Really nice person. EXTREMELY extroverted. He's always assuming that if I'm out of my room, I am up for conversation or being led in multiple direction, and I get the sense that it hurts his feelings when I'm not incredibly responsive to him. It's because I'm an introvert...and I wander around in a cloud of my own creation...It might LOOK like I am there, but I am not. And I do not want to be disturbed, but I'm too nice to tell you to go away. hahaha.

Sometimes I wonder if I am fit to live with people.

Sometimes I feel sorry for my children.

Then I realize they don't have to go to school, and that I'm basically a big pushover, in spite of my occasional bouts of grouchyness, and I don't feel so bad anymore.

I should be working right now, and I am not. I am distracted by the upcoming holidays. Yeah, that's my excuse and I am sticking to it.

I hope my boss isn't reading this...and if she is, I hope she doesn't fire me or take away my penny raise.

Did I mention I really love my job?

This time of the year makes me insanely happy. In a day or so, the kids will be at their dad's for a week, and I will spend my time wandering around Austin taking random pictures of things and pointing. Oohing and aahing.

I just yawned really big.

And loud.

I guess I should listen to myself and go to sleep.

Posted at 12:55 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Lately...

December 10, 2008

I have come to understand that I am not blogging because there is now the prospect of my son stumbling across my blog, and that idea makes me self-censor...and when ALL is not possible, NOTHING is.

Lately, to totally disregard the former, I have been thinking I would like to get past the sex and to the ART. There is a point where it's nice to tuck in for a bit and focus on something. ONE THING. Rather than constantly searching for some elusive else, better, or just different. It is winter, and I want to tuck in for a bit and not worry about finding anything new.

Lately, I am listening to a lot of Larkin Grimm, Decemberists, and Dead Can Dance...

Lately, I am really enjoying my children, and feeling like they are growing up to be sweet young men who will most likely be able to talk their way out of anything.

Lately, I am concerned that my kids will hone the art of talking their way out of anything to avoid having to take responsibility for something...

Lately, I am overworked, but at least I'm not underappreciated.

Lately...

Posted at 1:55 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

What I did during my break from the kids...

November 2, 2008

My goals were simple. In my month away from the children, I promised myself I would meet 2 new people, and I would complete at least one project from start to finish.

They sound like simple goals, really...but with the time I spend at work and with the kids, coupled with my crazy ass work schedule, both of those things are daunting, if not impossible. I mean, I rarely get to complete a project from start to finish at WORK, where I seem to be spending most of my time lately...lately I am realizing that that is the mos unsatisfying reality in my life. My utter inability to take on any out of the ordinary task and expect to accomplish it. I have a canvas with a painting I have barely begun, several ideas for novels, a webzine that is nearly completed but needs time and energy neither myself nor my partner can muster in order to make that final push to get it out...it seems like all of my extracurricular projects are stuck in the birth canal, and only the salad tongs of uninterrupted time can retrieve them. Which is probably why I always feel like I am being interrupted.

But I accomplished my goals, with the help of extended visitation, and a small vacation from work. It took me until almost the last day of my vacation, but I did it. I took on Cole's room, and I cleaned it. It was no small task, either. That room has been lacking any sort of organizational structure for years, and is a constant problem to keep clean and neat. So before the boys left, I had them put everything they own into plastic tubs. Then yesterday, I took everything out of Cole's room. Every tub, every toy, every scrap of paper. I put all of his furniture in the middle of the room and swept the floor clean. And I spent the entire day sorting through tubs full of miscellaneous toys, organized them in bins, rearranged the furniture the way cole had requested, and put everything back into its place. It took me all day long, but it felt good.

I even hung some temporary curtains, so the neighbors can't see right through the blinds that have been torn apart by cats and dogs who like to look out of windows. I was going to paint and buy some lights and get some actual curtains and hardware, but my car broke down the day before yesterday, so I spent at least part of the day coordinating with my housemate (who is my handyman hero) to buy a new fuel pump and figuring out how to pay him to fix the car, install the screen door I bought, and replace the broken windows that have been needing replacement for YEARS.

So, even though I waited until the last possible day of my vacation to get this shit done...it is all but done. Soon I will have a nice screen door that doesn't blow open in the wind, and that i can lock closed so I can leave the door open to the breeze. I got the kind with the screen on top, so the dog can't destroy it, and it's a full window door, so we can bring in as much light as possible.

I am hoping coley enjoys the new layout of his room. He has a space to play with legos, a little reading nook with a magazine rack, and his desk is now clear and clean and organized so he can draw and write and do his school work. My heroic handyman housemate is going to try to install a little puck light under his loft so he can see better under there, and I've made room in his closet for all of the toys and games I no longer wish to have cluttering up my hallway. :)

Today, I'm going to work on Monk's room, which isn't really as bad as Cole's was, by virtue of the fact that Monk just doesn't really have all that many toys anymore. I'm going to take everything non-monk out of his room, though. Who knows where I will put the multiple bins of zines, and all of the curriculum. Some of it will be sold in a yard sale, some will probably be tossed, and the rest will have to be stored. I'm thinking a nice climate-controlled storage facility might be a good option for me at this point.

But I am rambling. I feel like I have accomplished something, and it's nice. I forget sometimes that life isn't about the waiting for things to happen. You know...I know...it's a cliche...but it's about the time between things happening that is important. Too much in my life is controlled by outside forces. Other people who make decisions that I have no influence or control over, events over which I can't preside or predict. It's really about making myself comfortable and creating a space for myself that breathes with me. That we live in. That we are at home in.

My kids come back tomorrow. I have missed them tremendously, but I needed this time. It was awesome to see them on Halloween. They have been growing up so fast...it was really wonderful to see them frolic like children and really enjoy themselves. I am hoping when they return we can marry the rigid schedule their dad has them on with the carefree fun time they yearn for and recreate our lives so they have the space for both...and the time to enjoy it all.

And somehow...having completed that one day-long task...I feel like I am capable of that kind of creation.

Posted at 8:57 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Never Stop...

October 17, 2008

Dear you,

I remember what it was like to fall in love with life. Those days I spent describing the shape and texture of the clouds. The birds that gathered on wires, then in great droves issued forth into the sky like a never-ending ribbon. I told you those birds were my love, and the ribbon the ominous yet beautiful tie that bound us with resounding calls and the overwhelming orchestra of fluttering, flapping and finally smoothly gliding wings. The cries of crows stuck in my craw. Those were the days when I told you I wanted to know you inside out...wanted to lift the rocks of you and watch the crawling things beneath them recede into well-worn tunnels deep within. I followed them down those tunnels. I was not afraid, and I was not vengeful. I sat across the cave from you, eating candy as you eyed me suspiciously, until one day you sat next to me...and the next you held out your hand and allowed me to share.

And I shared.

And we sat there for a time, admiring the darkness. The birds were silent. I worried they were gone until I stole a glance at you from the corner of my eye and there they were again, rising from my gut to my throat that same fluttering, and a ribbon of sound passing from my lips to your soul.

And I held your hand and waited for the silent, dark season to pass. Remembering what it was like to fall in love with life...until it was time to fall in love with life again.

Posted at 10:38 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Good News/Bad News

August 21, 2008

That's pretty much what these past few weeks have been like...a long, drawn out game of good news/bad news, with every bad news item being something that costs more money than I really should be able to afford to spend, and every good news item basically relying on my ability to have a sense of humor about it...because there really hasn't been much good news at all, other than the usual things in my life that I am grateful for and are always there: good friends, sweet children, my job and co-workers...and that overall "I'm a relatively privileged American and have a great deal more than most as my baseline" thing that keeps me from feeling terribly sorry for myself.

At any rate, it turns out at the end of it all that the worst news of all was actually good news in disguise. I went to the vet today to have more of Twyla's stitches removed, and the vet informed me that the huge bleeding tumor that "had to come out"...was merely a bad infection. However, the small, unassuming little tumor they accidentally found and removed in the process of removing the big, scary, bleeding one...was an early stage of cancer. Thus, my sweet puppy was saved by a big bleeding tumor. At least for now.

I mean, I'm trying to be realistic here...cancer doesn't always just go away when you remove the tumor. But the placement of this tumor (under her front leg at the shoulder joint) was such that I would never have detected it until it was large enough to impede movement...and the vet believes they caught it before it spread. There's still a probability that more tumors and more problems will crop up...but we have a reprieve. Twyla can recover...and I have time to weigh my options about treatment and perhaps research alternative cancer therapy for dogs.

I'm having a hard time dealing with the future right now, though. I just want to stare at that damn dog and marvel at our present state of unbelievable good luck. It was a sheep in wolf's clothing. Imagine that! hahaha.

Posted at 10:34 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

So much to write about, so little time...

July 15, 2008

My mind is abuzz.

There is work stuff and life stuff and love stuff and art stuff all floating around up there. Crowding and clamoring for attention. Maybe I can attempt to tackle this whole update thing one issue at a time. I keep vowing to make it a practice to create a personal blog post every day, whether it's one sentence or many paragraphs, to just recap my day for anyone who might be interested...but the days keep getting away from me, and then I end up with this whole jumble of updates.

First, I guess, is work stuff. I am teaching a blogging and social media class next week, and I am THRILLED about it. Writing the curriculum (in blog format, of course) is so exciting to me, because so much has changed since the last time I taught a blogging class. Everything is so much less linear now. There's more texture and nuance in social media, more things to hook people with. Every time I think I have made a complete list of all of the special interest social networking sites I can have my class explore, 3-4 new ones pop into my head. I sat in on one of our beginner classes yesterday. They were learning about the internet and people were asking those kind of "what's in it for me, and why should I care about this stuff" questions, and I got totally arm-wavey about exactly why they should care. I love it when our clients look at me like I am Nerd From Outer Space. hahaha. But I play the part so well, you would hardly guess I am just ACTING. :P

So, there is that. And even though there's a lot of stress at work, I feel like I am getting opportunities to grow and experiment, and I'm delighted by it. Along with this blogging class, I am supposed to write a media literacy curriculum of some sort. Just a 3 hour class that introduces the main things everyone needs to know about using the media for participation in social, professional, and political networks...WISELY. This is all very exciting to me.

So, we will see. This next semester at work is going to be rough. I'm glad I am getting to do the fun stuff now...it keeps me from focusing so much on the scary stuff that always comes from working for a non-profit. But, you know, my philosophy of late is "enjoy it while you have it, you will miss it when it's gone." And that's what I try to come back to whenever I'm knocked off balance by something or someone.

Which reminds me that I had another appointment with the kids' therapist yesterday. You know...thankfully I have a good friend who is not afraid to be a total ass to me and let me know with no uncertain terms when I am being avoidant and/or selfish. Between him and the therapist, I can't really hide from my problems...and even though it PISSES ME OFF (hahaha) I'm thankful for it. So I think I actually am going to work on these achievable goals and steps that I worked out yesterday.

My main problem is that I have a difficult time letting people in only part way. I guess I always thought people wanted all or nothing from ME all of the time, but it turns out that I think I generally choose to give all or nothing. I'm going to try this new thing called discretion (as evidenced by the fact that I'm blogging about it in a public space)...but I mean, with specific people in my life (mostly a specific person) I am going to attempt to have a very very casual relationship in which there is no engagement beyond what I am comfortable engaging in. This will make other people who have expectations of me happy, and it will keep me at a safe distance from this person who has been given multiple chances to participate in my life and has failed multiple times at doing so without causing significant damage. I have the next step to take, and I'm biding my time before I take it...but it feels good to have a step. And even though I am LOATHE to thank him for it, I am glad my pesky best friend pushed the issue with me. Fucker! hahaha.

Regarding love and life and art (which, in reality, is kind of all the same thing) I have been compelled to look back at some Kerouac. I need to read _Desolation Angels_ again. It's amazing to me how a book I read when I was 19 can illuminate some of the answers to issues I am facing now. And I HIGHLIGHTED passages. You see, when I was 19-20, a couple of friends of mine and I started a little long-distance book club. It was me and my friend John, who lived with me in chicago, and our mutual friend Christopher from Wichita. We would read a book, highlight the important passages, then pass it on to the next person. I think I still have all of the books. I'm pretty sure we did Birdy, Harold and Maude, The Bell Jar, and I had totally forgotten that we did Desolation Angels...but I think it was just two of us who did that one (we each used a different color highlighter). The passages I highlighted then...mean so much more to me now. I love it when I find those bread crumbs, and I love that who I essentially am has changed so little, even though I think I have evolved much in the ensuing years. At some point, I will post the passages, but suffice to say they are about letting go of things, and not trying to control that which can't ever be controlled. And how love is one of those things. And how much better it feels when I give up control of that...even though it's scary.

So I have been creating and feeling and experiencing with that in mind. And it's good. And even the sadness I sometimes feel...that's love, too, and therefore beyond my control. All I can do is feel it and sit with it and let it go.

I guess I am saying that all in all things are good. I probably could complain. I most likely DO complain...but right now, I see no reason to indulge in complainingness. hood. itude.

I hope you are well.

Posted at 8:35 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

How's hope feeling today...

July 8, 2008

I am thinking about contentment. About how sometimes contentment keeps us in situations that we should not be in...and how sometimes contentment keeps us out of situations we should be in. I am thinking about the relativity of contentment, and how contentment can be a good thing, but can also be indicative of a fear of change. An unhealthy fear.

There is just such a fine line. It can be difficult to know when it's best to grin and bear it, and when it's better to make changes. And of course, I started thinking about this as it related to other people I know. You know...those OTHER people who are all walking around blindly screwing each other up and doing stupid shit that *I* would *never* (!) do! hahahaha.

But, you know how that goes. You can only sit on that limb for so long before you realize there's nothing holding it up, and before you know it, you have fallen down among the grit and dirt of *those* people because (you knew all along) you are doing the exact same thing you are criticizing from above.

Ha. Ah, well. As Maude (from Harold and Maude) would say about people "They're my species."

So I am thinking about this...safety. Safety in life. Safety in love. And contentment, which is a kin to safety, but perhaps not always.

It's funny how one trip to the therapist can reveal so much. She's a tricky one! She only had to ask one question, and I don't even think I answered it out loud. I don't have to reveal to her what I am working on in order for the work to bear fruit. She asked one question (which probably wasn't even a question) made one observation...and provided me with one, simple validation.

What I came away with was this: All of my life, almost every effort I have made to set boundaries with the people close to me has been nullified. The boundaries and barriers are bulldozed. It happened with my siblings, it happened with my parents, it happened with my lovers, with my husband...and it would have continued but for one thing...well, two things:

* I stopped trying to set boundaries
* I had children who force me to set boundaries and usually respect them

I am still working on figuring out what all of this means. I find it funny that though I am tempted to parent without limits and only deal in natural consequences, at least one of my children is constantly telling me he needs limits and consequences. So, I do step out of my comfort zone to provide him with those as necessary, although probably not as much as they would like. Perhaps there is some middle way.

And I'm not sure if I actually think it's necessarily bad to not set boundaries with the people I love. I find that it forces me to look at things from a wide variety of perspectives, and to really consider why people do the things they do. Of course, it also forces me to but up huge walls so I don't risk allowing too many people in at once. Because without barriers, it's kind of difficult to host a crowd. So, sometimes it feels lonely. And sometimes I don't get what I want because asking is a form of coercion in my world.

Most of the time, I am content with the way I am...but I am not sure if that is a contentment that keeps me from doing something better, or if it's a contentment that keeps me from doing something worse.

Posted at 10:32 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

The first time I heard Chumbawamba...

May 2, 2008

It was the summer of 1988. Probably the turning point of my life...or one of them. I was 18 and sitting in the back seat of someone's car. It was probably my car, and I was probably being driven around Chicago by one of my friends, while the rest of the passengers joked and laughed and talked about various things. I had my nose in a book I had just bought at Powell's. I had pulled it at random from the shelves, saw illustrations by Sue Coe, and decided I had to read it. That book was _Narcissism and Death_ by Mariarosa Sclauzero, which is an experimental prose book about the human psyche, love, ethics, beauty, narcissism...and death. ha. It was fascinating to me, because it was written in a sort of ADD skipping from one topic to the next style that seemed to be a salvation in terms of setting an example for a type of novel I could actually write. I have never been very linear...and I am not good at envisioning and bringing to life meticulously accurate story lines from beginning to end with any amount of cohesion.

At any rate, I had my nose in that book when we turned on to Kenmore street. I remember the name of the street because people were talking about Kenmore appliances or something. Maybe the topic of washing machines came up. Maybe someone was talking about duds and suds, the new bar/laundromat that we always talked about going to, but always ended up dragging bags and bags of dirty clothes to my moms house in the suburbs, anyway...on those weekends we would go back for shows at Dirty Nellies and, later, mcGregor's.

So we parked somewhere on Kenmore to visit with my roommates boyfriend Erich "Fish" Blocher, and his roommate Warren "Fish" Fisher. They were two men who shared an apartment and a nickname. Warren was fish for obvious reason, and I believe he played bass for screeching weasel for awhile and was in a band called Ozzfish or The Ozzfish Experience...although I recently chatted with my other old roommate and we can't for the life of us figure out who the Ozz in Ozzfish was. Erich was nicknamed fish for reasons unknown. He was a tall, goofy, John Denvery looking guy with round glasses and a sort of hippie, laid back demeanor. He was living in the other Fish's closet at the time. I remember laying on the pillows on the floor and looking up at the chain that hung from the bare lightbulb in the closet. there was a long string tied to the end of the chain as a means of extension "Because I am too lazy to stand up to turn it off at night." said fish.

And as I lay there, with my nose still in Narcissism and Death, one of the fishes made me a tape of the Chumbawamba lp _Pictures of Starving Children Sell Records_ because I just HAD to listen to it over and over again. And I have. And I still do. It is kind of a masterpiece.

And when I hear Chumbawamba now, I think of that day. I think of being driven, nose in book, refrigerators, washing machines, lightbulbs and fish and fish and fish's closet. And I think of black and white ink drawings and songs about anarchy and I think about Pictures of Starving Children and Narcissism and Death. And the richness and clarity of these memories amazes me always.

Posted at 10:37 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Vote!

April 21, 2008

Hey everyone...

One of the things I am most thankful for in my life right now is the presence of an amazing creative partner who inspires and surprises me.

A few weeks ago, I got an email from him asking if we should try to participate in this radiohead/aniboom video animation contest, and even though I don't really consider myself to be much of a visual artist, I couldn't turn down the opportunity to embark on a creative adventure with him.

So, I am pleased to announce our entry into the storyboard phase of the contest. We chose Weird Fishes because the story was evocative and, well, speaking for myself...because fish are relatively easy to draw. hahaha.

If you like the storyboard, it would be awesome if you would vote. I know it's a pain in the ass to sign up for a website to vote for something, but it'd be rad if you would. :)

Whether you do or not, I hope you enjoy the storyboard at least. It represents 3 weeks of brainstorming, chalking, pep talking, nagging, more brainstorming, more making a chalky mess of myself and everything around me, and lots and lots of wonderful creative processing...

I am looking forward to more of the same, for as long as I am fortunate to have such a wonderful artistic collaborator in my life.

Here's the video:

Watch more cool animation and creative cartoons at aniBoom

You can go here to vote for it:

http://www.aniboom.com/Player.aspx?v=206718

Posted at 12:14 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

So I have been thinking a lot...

April 19, 2008

...about what I leave behind. Not in a bullshit business productivity training "leaving a legend" way, but more like keeping track of where I am and where I want to be. What I have tried...all of the different ways I have tried to live my life.

And the thing is, I am happiest with my life right now in this moment...in this era. But, you know how it is when you feel you have something to lose - suddenly it seems as though you have everything to protect, and it's easy to start wondering if maybe it's not easier to have nothing at all.

The other day I twittered: Grateful 5: fun kids, rewarding career, adventurous lover, inspiring creative partner, and freedom in all these relationships. Why complain? And I meant it. Maybe the reason I am tempted to complain is that it all seems a little too good, and when things seem easy, I have a difficult time relaxing and enjoying. It's that old working class work ethic of "if you ain't sweating, it ain't work." (actually, I just made that up, I think...but I know that's how I feel) I have a tendency to feel like if my life isn't difficult or complicated in some way, I'm being somehow lazy.

I really need to stop that. hahaha. I do have all of those things I am thankful for, and then some, and I do feel fortunate for it. That is not to say there aren't plenty of things that I don't have...but the things I DO have keep me quite busy. My life is full, busy, and productive. I need to stop worrying about looking for more, more, more.

This spring in Austin has been the nicest I can remember. Every night is cool, every morning brisk and sunny and bursting with the sounds of doves and other birds I can hear through my open windows. The trees seemed to go from bud to full foliage overnight. I missed the unfolding...but there is always next spring to witness that.

Posted at 10:39 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Blogging about NOT blogging

April 18, 2008

So, it seems I never blog anymore. I was actually thinking about it today, because I read an article that I wanted to blog about...and it took me like 30 minutes to fully read the article, and then about 3 hours to get over how depressed it made me feel. And by the time I got to the end of that 3 hours, I was listening to Abba when I should have been blogging, and all I wanted to do was rock out to "Dancin' Queen" Who has time for blogging?

Oh, wait...that's what I am doing now. Haha. This blog will now be delayed while its author rocks out to Dancin' Queen. Feel the beat of that tambourine, baby!!!

**PAUSE**

I'm not sure why, but it seems like it's been awhile since I have had some alone time that I have actually enjoyed. Lately, I have felt a lot of pressure to be socially active and datingly inclined. I think that's what bothered me about that article I read. It was some single mother ranting about how you should settle for a man while you are young because by the time you are smart enough to realize you need a man to take care of certain more practical, less romantic needs, you will be too old and ugly to attract a good one.

Yes, I know I'm oversimplifying a bit...but not a lot. If you really feel like you want to read the entire article, you can find it here.

I think the thing that really got to me is that, yes I do occasionally worry about my future if I don't find some sort of partner to share the practical burden of day to day living and growing old. But I don't necessarily think that's productive, nor do I think "settling" for someone or some specific type of relationship or lifestyle is going to necessarily ensure my future will be less burdensome on the whole. The author of the article seems to feel that a healthy response to a fear of being alone is to, as she reports, remain in a relationship that would prompt someone to say "“You’re so lucky, you don’t have to have sex with someone you don’t want to.”

Because, you know, at least the woman who is having unwilling sex HAS a MAN!

Jesus fucking Christ. I don't think I have anything to add to that. I'm just going to play a bunch of '80's music in my house alone, and be happy that my fear of facing a future in which I am potentially alone for eternity exempts me from coercive sex. Suddenly being single doesn't seem like a bad thing at all.

Posted at 10:08 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Mood Swingy Bears...

March 16, 2008

I went to bed feeling really upset last night because I had spent some time earlier with people that were confusingly snooty. They didn't actually say anything mean to me, but I was so freaking uncomfortable around them that I didn't know what to say.

I think sometimes that because I have a (perhaps unhealthy) tendency to self-evaluate, I get extra super irritated with and uncomfortable around anyone who issues forth unexamined ignorance to an extreme degree. I don't know how to describe it. Perhaps it helps to say that even now, having just written that, I'm thinking "Wait...did that sound self-righteous? Maybe there's a different way to explain that so it doesn't seem like I'm saying "I'm better than other people..." etc, etc. So, I mean, I'm kind of aware that I have a bit of an obsessive urge to overthink everything. However, I don't think that fact should necessitate me being totally tolerant of people who UNDERthink.

At any rate, I'm not even sure why I am blogging this, except maybe to force everyone to witness my pms-insanity. hahaha. I am all over the place right now. Missing my kiddos, still keyed up by sxsw, looking forward to vacation time next week, feeling like I'm neglecting my mom because I'm too chicken shit to call her, worrying about my job, being absolutely elated about what a great job I have, having a lover/wanting a friend, wanting a lover/having a friend, having extra money for the first time in a LONG time, being scared to death about the future of the planet, tired of politics, feeling extra politically charged up, not having enough time, having too much time, looking forward to hanging out with my mama friends tonight, looking back on my week and wondering where all of my time went, and on and on and on.

Today, I'm looking for a perfect moment. Just one perfect moment where I can sit, and relax, and just be there now. Whenever that now happens. In the meantime, I need to catch up with myself, remind myself that all of these things will have their time to play out, relax, relax, relax...be thankful and chill. Be thankful that I'm even in a position where I can afford to overthink my overthinkingness. And chill.

(and as I typed the word chill, I suddenly became aware of this bird calling rhythmically outside, and I stopped, and listened, and immersed myself in that moment. And it was nice.)

Posted at 12:15 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Warning Lights and Short Circuits.

February 26, 2008

I had been driving the car for about 2 months like this. The brake light would come on and glow steady red whenever I would make a hard left, or brake suddenly, or go up an incline...and then it would go out.

At first I thought it was the brake fluid. Perhaps it was running out. But when I asked for them to check it when I brought it in for an oil change, all fluid levels were fine. That had been a month ago, and the light was still going on. As the days passed, I felt more and more anxious that something seriously and unaffordably wrong was going on. And the more time passed, the more symptoms of big problems seemed evident to me. Wait! I think the Brake Light just came on when I TAPPED the brake! What was that noise? Did I hear GRINDING? Maybe there won't be a warning...maybe this IS my warning that the brakes are going to go.

The other side of my mind would respond by reassuring me that I just had the brakes fixed 8 months ago, and they were still under warranty...and anyway, that light doesn't stay on for long. It'll all be ok.

Of course, neither side of my mind wanted me to bring the car in to the shop. The panicky side was sure there would be a million other issues that would be discovered and haven't I had to pay for enough car repairs over the past year? The calm side could never prioritize the trip over my other millions of daily responsibilities.

And so it went on until the brake light very definitely WAS coming on more frequently, and I happened to have a semi-unbusy day with plenty of time to bring the car in. Also, my tax return hit my bank account the same day as my paycheck, making me feel extra-super rich in spite of the fact that the majority of the money is actually spoken for. So I did it. I brought it in.

The problem? It was a loose wire on the sensor in the brake fluid tank. It cost me nothing to repair, and the courtesy vehicle dropped me back at home and then picked me right back up again.

I spent the remainder of the day laughing at my tendency to fret over warning lights, when all that's wrong is a short circuit.

Posted at 12:17 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Is it just me...?

February 17, 2008

Or has everyone/anyone else noticed a distinct shift towards hopelessness?

It seems like in the past year, all of the various doomsday indicators have been sounding out voluminously. It'd be a death toll except it's more of a peel. Like the squeal of brakes as they are quickly applied before an unexpected precipice.

I've even noticed the gloom in my children, who talk openly about the fact that the adults have fucked up the world for them. I don't know if my children are just extraordinarily jaded, but I just don't remember being eleven and even thinking about the future, much less mulling over having none and grouching about the fact that the planet might be "nothing more than an empty shell" by the time I was old enough to eat all of the candy I wanted whenever I wanted to. Because that's what I viewed as the main benefit of adulthood.

Well, guess what...the grown-ups have cleaned out the candy dish and broken it to pieces.

And those of us who have been paying attention all along have kind of known there would be a point of no return, but it's so easy to be lulled into tranquil security to the hum of the shift in targeted advertising. Lately, I am hearing strains of tune-changing as commercials on TV tout the benefits of NOT spending money (seeing as so many of us have so little to spend). I am wondering when reality TV will shift to pure fantasy TV, or perhaps...as actually my 11 year old so astutely pointed out after watching Nanny 911 with me..."I think the point of those reality shows is that when you are done watching them you are thankful for your own life because by comparison it looks pretty good."

And, you know, I don't want to lose hope. And I will actively set my mind and soul against losing hope...but I can't deny that the shift is palpable. I was watching the PBS show Now this morning, and a woman said (about something totally off this topic, but still somehow applicable) "There is right...there is wrong...and then there is reality." It's like the opposite of being given a choice between a and b and choosing C. And for the life of me, I can't figure out how to explain it better than that.

Posted at 5:12 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

An Update.

February 13, 2008

So here is what is up in my little corner of the world. In between reading headlines about the end of the world being nigh and all of the political infighting on the part of two politicians who pretty much have the same agenda (come to think of it, don't they all?) and economic and environmental collapse I am parenting. I am being a mom. I am being a boss. I am being a daughter. I am somebody's lover. I am somebody's friend. And I am trying to remember to breathe and stay focused on my little world, even though it feels smaller and smaller and less impactful all the time.

The kids are doing great. M, after a few weeks of trying his hand at being an obstinate, rebellious pre-teen is now testing what it's like to be cooperative and sweet. I, of course, prefer the latter, although the former is in interesting challenge for me. C is still zippy and bouncy and the sayer of weird stuff like "What happens when you try to take a zombie's pulse?" They are both learning and growing and failing and trying again, as am I.

My job is going well, but it's stressful. And there are some potentially stressful changes coming up that I don't want to have to deal with right now, but I will have to whether I like it or not. Damn the timing! But I have an awesome group of kids I am working with...and a great organization...and a wonderful slew of clients...and it is a rare day that I don't thank whoever is in charge of this weird, disordered universe that I somehow ended up in just the right place at just the right time with just the right skills to land this job.

My love life? Meh. hahaha. Not so much. But I'm getting by. A dear old friend asked me, a few months ago, "Lainie...how's your love life?" I responded that if he knew any men who would appreciate a 38 year old woman who spent two hours on her day off from work and children staring at, taking pictures of, and filming a lizard as it slithered around her window...and then spent the next 2 weeks talking about it excitedly...and pretty much spends all her free time staring at trees and birds and the sky...they need to call me. Until then, it just seems like most men really don't get me, or want me to be someone I am not, or want me to give them an inordinate amount of attention in exchange for very little...or are just plain tragically impossible.

Yesterday I told M that his mamaw has cancer. I haven't found a way to tell C yet. C is so sensitive. M is, too, but he's more able to handle news like this. C gets really emotionally affected by the news on the radio. He will cry when he hears a story about a kid who drowned in a flood. It's ironic that we started reading Ida B right before I found out about my mom. That was two months and two chapter books ago. Now we are reading On The Banks Of Plum Creek and I am only just now admitting to myself that the children need to know. That it probably wouldn't be fair for me to Just Not Tell Them. Well, also...that it's not something that will Quietly Go Away.

About my mom's cancer...I just don't even know where to begin. I am overwhelmed by a flood of self-examination...and not just of the boobie kind. Odd how cancer is so metaphorical. There are so many nodes and so many cells to evaluate. I am stuck wondering which are benign and which need to be excised. What to rid myself of and what to keep. What my options are and what is just not even within my control.

It's strange that I never have given a thought to my mom's mortality. Really, I haven't given much thought to my own mortality for quite some time...if ever. For awhile there, it seemed like people around me were dying young all over the place, so I guess I just thought I was lucky to hang in for as long as I have. Now, I'm like "Crap...you mean my time is limited here? Shit!" And then I busy myself with all of my goings-on until I am too distracted by living to focus too much on death.

But it's still there. And lately it is a little too close for comfort, like an old cat perched on the arm of the sofa, silent and still so that I hardly notice it. I forget it's there until it opens its slitted eyes, stretches, and meows loudly for attention.

Posted at 8:57 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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It always comes back to this...

December 31, 2007

"if you assume there is no hope, you guarantee there will be no hope." -Noam Chomsky

and this...

"Hope" by Dirty Three

Dirty Three Lived at Bridge: 2, 2006.06.27

[via FoxyTunes / Dirty Three]

Here's hoping for a happy new year...

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I'm just gonna close my eyes for a second...

December 14, 2007

I am sure I have used that title for a blog post many times, but this time it's almost kind of literally true. I have been stumbling around in a benadryl haze for the last 12 hours, after having spent almost 2 weeks without any sort of break from work/kids (and sometimes both at the same time...in fact MANY times). I am sniffly, tired, and have been learning way too many lessons about life and love and dependence and independence and interdependence and codependence.

But it's good. I feel good. It almost feels like I am bracing myself for something bad, but I am not going to think about that, no matter how fiercely it looms. I am just going to close my eyes for a second...and hope they don't get crusted shut!

Right now, I am drinking Pinocchio wine and listening to Beauty Pill and reflecting and preparing. I am not wanting to close my eyes while lying in any sort of horizontal position, because that would feel like I am wasting beautiful just sitting here being alone in my house with music playing loud time. It's nice. It's really nice. I don't have much to say, but I feel like I need to say it anyway. Saying nothing with style. Ha. It's a gift.

What can I say?

The seasonal change is almost here, and already I am reflecting on this past season and thinking about things that need to change in the coming season and the approaching year. Not as much to work on as you might think. I think I'm heading in the right direction...really it is all a matter of being patient with myself and allowing things to unfold as intended. Allow for those uncontrollable inevitables to come to fruition so I can adjust and adapt, as I sure as hell can't dictate.

That said...I think I am going to go lay down and close my eyes for a second. Night night folks.

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A survey...

December 13, 2007

Because I have nothing better to say right now:

WHEN YOU SEND IT BACK YOU MUST INCLUDE 1 WORD HOW YOU WOULD DESCRIBE THE PERSON WHO SENT IT TO YOU.

PERSON SENT TO ME? Colleen Zany

1. WERE YOU NAMED AFTER ANYONE?
I think I was named after some actress person, but I don't know the whole story.

2 . WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME YOU CRIED?
I think yesterday. I am frequently moved to tears, though. It doesn't take much, and I don't generally keep track.

3. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HANDWRITING
I tend to like handwriting in general. It's so rarely seen these days. I still write in a paper journal quite frequently.

4. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE LUNCH MEAT?
Um. The kind that doesn't involve meat?

5. DO YOU HAVE KIDS?
2 boys.

6. IF YOU WERE ANOTHER PERSON WOULD YOU BE FRIENDS WITH YOU?
Yes. I think I would. I also frequently wish I was 7, because I would totally be my son Coley's bff. Not that I don't love Monk an awful lot, but Monk's easier for me to be friends with as an adult. I would love to be young and in coley's little world as a child.

7. DO YOU USE SARCASM A Lot?
Hm...probably not as much as I think I do.

8. DO YOU STILL HAVE YOUR TONSILS?
Yes. We were just talking about this last night. Cole was wondering what tonsils do and why people have them removed. I told him about all of the times when I was a kid and would get swollen glands and how it used to make me talk like kermit the frog.

9. WOULD YOU BUNGEE JUMP? No.

10. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE CEREAL?
I have been thinking about apple-cinnamon o's since someone twittered about them the other day.

11. DO YOU UNTIE YOUR SHOES MOST OF THE TIME?
Most of the time I wear crocs (yes, even in the wintertime...WITH SOCKS!) But I don't untie the laces on my sneakers until I am putting them ON.

12 DO YOU THINK YOU ARE STRONG?
Fairly...but only because I'm aware of and generally patient with my weaknesses. GENERALLY.

13. WHAT IS YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM?
There's this stuff they have at Amy's on rare occasions called, I think, Aztec Chocolate. It's white chocolate with a hint of cayenne. Smooth and easy, but with a sudden bite as it goes down. Yum!

14. WHAT IS THE FIRST THING YOU NOTICE ABOUT PEOPLE?
Probably smile and eyes.

15. RED OR PINK?
Red, but the arm warmers that Susan made me a couple of years ago involve some really nice shades of pink that make me appreciate it more when the weather is cold.

16. WHAT IS THE LEAST FAVORITE THING ABOUT YOURSELF?
My awkwardness in unfamiliar social situations.

17. WHO DO YOU MISS THE MOST
Right now...I really miss my friend robby caldwell. I haven't heard from him in years.

18. DO YOU WANT EVERYONE TO SEND THIS BACK TO YOU?
I am only sending it to one person, so...no.

19. WHAT COLOR PANTS AND SHOES ARE YOU WEARING?
aqua sweat pants and no shoes. I am wearing an orange fleece sweatshirt that clashes horribly with the pants, but it's pj's and it makes Monk laugh when I wear clashing clothes. He says I look like a lollipop.

20. WHAT WAS THE LAST THING YOU ATE?
Homemade baked shells and cheese. I should probably eat some breakfast.

21. WHAT ARE YOU LISTENING TO RIGHT NOW?
Right at this moment, it's The Cure...but I have my entire music collection on shuffle, so you never know what's next. Oh...it just changed to Explosions In The Sky.

22. IF YOU WHERE A CRAYON, WHAT COLOR WOULD YOU BE?
Lime Green

23. FAVORITE SMELLS?
Lavender, sweet olive, wet leaves, the chest of the man I love.

24. WHO WAS THE LAST PERSON YOU TALKED TO ON THE PHONE?
Tracy. He called to tell me I butt dialed him and he eavesdropped on a conversation I was having with my co-workers about lime green knee socks. ha ha ha.

25. DO YOU LIKE THE PERSON WHO SENT THIS TO YOU?
Well, she's my sister, so I guess I am OBLIGATED to love her or something. hahaha. Kidding. Sure, I like her ok. :P

26. FAVORITE SPORTS TO WATCH?
Probably football, because it reminds me of my childhood. But I also like gymnastics and diving and swimming. And figure skating.

27. HAIR COLOR?
Brown

28. EYE COLOR?
Brown

29. DO YOU WEAR CONTACTS?
No. I did at one point, but they gave me the WORST eye boogers ever in the history of eye boogerdom.

30. FAVORITE FOOD?
Someone asked me this last night...sort of. They were like "What's the vegetarian version of, like, LOBSTER or something extravagant?" I dunno. I really liked that homemade mac and cheese. I love anything with basil, whether it's italian or asian food. I love artichokes. SOUP! And Indian food.

31. SCARY MOVIES OR HAPPY ENDINGS?
If I have to choose between those two...I'd probably go with scary.

32. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
Movie? hm...do documentaries count? I watched Rivers and Tides over and over again. Before that, the last MOVIE I watched was probably Network.

33. WHAT COLOR SHIRT ARE YOU WEARING?
Ah …here it is…well look above for this answer…

34. SUMMER OR WINTER?
Winter, definitely. But in terms of seasons, I am more of a fall/spring person.

35. HUGS OR KISSES?
Both, please! Also, lots of snuggling. :)

36. FAVORITE DESSERT?
Carmelita bars! Or fresh raspberries.

37. MOST LIKELY TO RESPOND? ???

38. LEAST LIKELY TO RESPOND ????

39. WHAT BOOKs ARE YOU READING NOW?
A People's History of the United States, by Howard Zinn and Women in Love by D.H. Lawrence. I started reading Sarah Canary by Karen Joy Fowler, but found it so dreadfully boring and disconnected that I had to put it aside & I don't think I will ever try again. I hate having my time wasted by overcomplicated bullshit. hahahaha. I think I'm actually pissed off at the author for that book.

40. WHAT IS ON YOUR MOUSE PAD?
Don't have one.

41. WHAT DID YOU WATCH ON TV.LAST NIGHT?
Hm...my usual reruns that I watch while working: Family Guy, Sex in the City, and Frasier.

42. FAVORITE SOUND?
Rain falling on dead leaves.

43. ROLLING STONES OR BEATLES?
Beatles.

44. WHAT IS THE FARTHEST YOU HAVE BEEN FROM HOME?
Hmmm...That's tough to say. I guess it would be Portland, OR.

45. DO YOU HAVE A SPECIAL TALENT?
Ha. Some say I do.

46. WHERE WERE YOU BORN?
IL

47. WHOSE ANSWERS ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO GETTING?
Everybody's...because I am nosey!

----------------
Now playing: Colin Bailey/Monty Budwig/Vince Guaraldi - Greensleeves
via FoxyTunes

Posted at 8:23 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

From my private journal 12/8/2007

December 8, 2007

12/8/2007 4:34 PM

"We could be together if it wasn't for that...which...is...in the way." -smart went crazy

(I begin with a word play exercise...) dogged damn driven this damp hypocrisy. Not knowing, ever going, system flowing, bloom growing. Interpreted endless moratorium on instinctual endlessness. Yesterday the skies were pink and blue. Pink and blue. Like a cheesy nursery painting, but more beautiful because more true. The realer the better, the better the realer. Convince condescend recind recondense. Retroactive recidivistic atavistic clamor.

I get up and get more coffee and think "If I had to think about a higher purpose, I would not be able to make it through one day." Amazing how some struggle through life trying to find it. Higher purposes are for those who believe in higher beings. What matters is right now. We can only exist to be here right now. I made someone laugh the other day, and that served a higher purpose. On occasion, we crawl outside of ourselves and have an effect on other people. That is a higher purpose. Some people have a broader reach than others - does that mean their higher purpose is higher or more purposeful? No. Usually it means that, by luck or circumstance, generally, more people notice something that they have done. It is amazing to me that an athiest, no less, would be depressed due to a sense of lacking purpose in life. Life is for the living. You have as much fun as you possibly can in as many different ways as possible without hurting other people too terribly much. If you fuck up, you apologize and try again...because you're going to have to live with the consequences if you don't, and that makes everything else slightly to way less fun. And, yes...by the way...fun is a totally arbitrary term that could, depending on the circumstance, mean laughing out loud at the bark of a tree or crying in anguish over the thought of never knowing anyone else who will ever be able to laugh out loud at the bark of a tree with you. Or, perhaps, knowing someone who is fully capable of understanding the ecstatic possibilities of the bark of a tree, but they are so hung up on never accomplishing anything in life that they can't allow themselves to laugh out loud, and when they do, they spend days afterward pondering the implications of having done so.

Living a fulfilled life does not mean living a life of mindless mirth. It is living a life of benevolent (fully aware) bliss. It means being turned on to life so much that at times the squelching dissonance of it all makes you want to cover your ears, hide under all of your covers, and weep for days and days.

If I had to focus on a higher purpose. If I had to think about making something of myself...I would not be able to raise children. And it's difficult enough without that distraction.

"They don't call me a con artist for no reason!" -smart went crazy

But it's silly to dwell, even on these kinds of conversations. They are small feelings or ideas blown up into huge, unmanagable preponderances. An entire cage built in a moment takes a life time to disassemble. It is enough to have to remember to look at the sky and see the natural beauty of pink and blue uncorrupted by gender-based marketing aesthetics.

I drink more coffee. Listen to some music. The kids play video games in the other room. The day has been oddly productive. I get frustrated with them. I try to give them methods to our madness. There are times when I wonder if I am cut out for this. Then again, there are times when I wonder if I am cut out for anything. That's when I remind myself that there is no higher purpose. There is just right fucking now. And if what I am doing right fucking now isn't immediately gratifying, then it better damn well be contributing to some sort of gratification down the line.

It's funny how it's always the most amazing people who worry about not satisfying some higher purpose. You don't see these qualities in yourself because you are too busy worrying about distancing yourself from any responsibility. You feel guilty over the fact that you haven't accomplished anything. You don't realize that it's everyone else who hasn't accomplished what you have accomplished - making it this far with soul intact. Everyone else is turned off. You are a lighthouse blinking and unwavering...beaming brightly on barren shores. Yes, it looks deserted. That's because everyone else has already given up.

"DC will do that to you..." -smart went crazy

But, you know, what do I know? I have my own issues. I alternate between catalyst and cataclysm on a seeming hourly basis.

"I fell beneath the grating of the world...or maybe I was born there..." -smart went crazy

(it doesn't really matter now...least of all to you.)

And it's funny, because nothing describes my joy of life better than that. It's a feeling that is so good, it makes me weep with abject sorrow that I can't express it better or share it.

Posted at 6:10 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

'Tis the Season...

November 26, 2007

to avoid television. I am telling you. I have been watching an overabundance of it lately due to having an extra eleventy gazillion hours in the day from a) not having to work and b) not having the children around, and it is freaking depressing as fuck. It is difficult not to feel inadequate as a single parent with not a whole lot of extra cash and no romantic entanglements that involve the bestowment of diamond jewelry...and I don't even LIKE diamonds OR jewelry. I feel curmudgeonly. This happens every year. The noise of Christmas never fails to interfere with my usual seasonal reflection and evaluation. My self-assessments are skewed. My self-image is distorted. My self-worth is deranged. Make it stop!

Hahaha. This weekend, the typical static of Christmas advertising was compounded by a rare Austin cold snap. So while I am being emotionally barraged with the constant reminder that I'm in this thing alone, I am also being physically reminded that, damnit, it's cold in that lonely bed, fuckers! Regardless of how mentally or emotionally ready or willing I am to embark on another relationship, regardless of the lack of available and desirable partners in my life, it's tempting to just grab the most convenient object and turn it into something that fulfills all of my practical needs. Emotional, artistic, spiritual attachment be damned!

Combine all of this with 5 full days without the distraction of children and work, and you have a recipe for utter disaster.

Thank goodness I am aware of this potential. Thank goodness I planned in advance. Thank goodness for friends both superficial and taproot to help anchor me and allow for my movement through this season and all of the turmoil it renders.

In the end, I made it through...and I did ok. I rejected the temptation to seek warmth at any cost. I spent my time, for the most part, with people who love and care about me. I allowed myself to indulge in precious solitude and bask in the presence of one who allows me to distract myself via fussing over and catering to, as well as those who are good listeners and good conversationalists. I surrounded myself with good music/art/media even though I found myself utterly incapable of expressing myself in any creative vehicle.

I am coming down now. Or perhaps I am coming up. Thanks to those to whom I have looked for oxygen. Thanks to the birds, the trees, the clouds, the reddened leaves, the fevered exchanges of passionate longing for some small breath of life amidst the dearth of emotional vitality and the overabundance of material indulgence.

The house has returned to it's state of fervor. C babbles. M emits random cynical observations with a slight stutter. The cat meows loudly, yet contentedly now that her boy is home. The dog follows me around that house in that constant state of panicked expectation. I have other, more important, things to fret about...and still the same beautiful things to appreciate. To center on.

And...I have a whole lot less time for television. And that certainly doesn't hurt. :P

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Sensitivity...

November 18, 2007

I learn so much about myself through my children. It's actually kind of amazing. I guess just being able to spend so much time with people who share your nature and your nurture really reflects back those things that you don't see in yourself. Or something.

At any rate, C is an exceptionally sensitive child. At least as compared to his brother. At seven years old, he is torn between mindfulness and appropriate protection of his sensitivity and his need to be a cool, big, maybe even macho kid. I other words, he exposes himself or allows himself to be exposed to media that his sensitivities can't fully deal with. But what he does is tough it out in the moment...and then relive those moments when he is by himself and get really frightened of the fearful spectres he wouldn't allow himself to avoid in the first place. Only out-of-context now...and that is confusing.

I'm totally able to understand that right now, because I'm experiencing the same thing. I put off dealing with things in the moment they are happening...acting as if I am tough and can take it...only to have those things (and the feelings those things evoke) creep up on me out-of-context in a manner that creates more confusion and self-doubt than would have ever been generated had I allowed my honest emotional response in the first damn place.

hahaha.

So, I guess it's nice to know that I have the emotional constitution of a 7 year old! Uh. I guess I need to work on that.

Oh, and I am not sure if this has anything remotely to do with the former, but yesterday I kept finding myself thinking: "It sucks to have elegant ideals about people, and yet to consistently be forced to deal with people in inelegant, unideal contexts."

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Without a Cairn...

November 3, 2007

Casey put a name to the piles of stones we found over by the creek that runs through Pease Park. She called them Cairns, but I guess hikers also call them ducks. Normally, they are used to mark important spiritual areas or to help people stay on a path. These structures, however, seem to exist just for the sake of existing.

It took some doing to get to the spot where the rocks were on display. Both myself and my mama friend got a bit wet in the going there (thankfully all of our electronics arrived without damage!) and one of the kids totally slipped and fell in a puddle of muck. At one point, too, I looked up to find Coley on the other side of the creek, balancing precariously on a very steep rock face, with about 20 yards to go before reaching a more reasonable incline, and about 5 feet up from the shallow, rock filled water. There was nothing I could do but try to be encouraging and ready to spring if he fell. He had confidence in himself that he could do it, so I cheered him on, but once he reached a safer vantage I had to say "I am so proud of you that you were able to do that...DON'T EVER DO IT AGAIN!!!!!"

I was pleased the cairns were still there. We first saw them last Sunday, but didn't have as much time to spend with them as I would have liked. So we planned a field trip for Friday to go down and admire and create some of our own precariously balanced sculptures of rock. I was delighted by the fact that the children spent a good deal of their time working together and/or at the very least not totally picking on each other. Neither did they seem the remotest bit tempted to knock over each others' creations or the creations that were there before we arrived. For some reason, these structures, impermanent as they are, seem to demand a certain amount of respect for their mere existence. I loved the offhand life lessons they seemed to generate in the unconscious conversations of the children. One of the kids accidentally knocked a small pile over and was regretful. But I pointed out that the beauty of ephemeralist art is its fragility. A brisk wind could knock one down. They aren't created for any other purpose than the joy of creation and perhaps the thought that they might be observed and enjoyed for what they are.

I have always been fascinated by ephemeralist art. In this age when everyone strives for more storage and more permanence, it is good to be reminded that sometimes beauty can be fleeting, and that's ok. Some beautiful things aren't meant to be preserved or put on display or even shared with anyone else. I know I am experiencing that in my life on a regular basis lately. I don't know if it is my age or just a phase I am going through, but I tend to not want to share the beautiful moments in my life with more than maybe one or two people at a time. Sometimes I even keep them all to myself! Of course, as I type this, I am uploading my images to flickr and I realize I am capturing the moment here in words, after having spent my entire time there ensconced in the glow of various technological devices recording in various ways my enjoyment of it...but I am nothing if not absolutely hypocritical, and you must learn this and deal with it. :P Also, I found it perfectly ironic in a most wonderful way that as I sat there, I mourned the fact that I did not have a copy of "Scriptures of the Golden Eternity" with me, so I popped onto the internet on my phone and found a copy online that I read and forwarded to my twitter friends. Hee hee.

At any rate, the children busied themselves with building. M seemed to enjoy construction the most of all, which was absolutely delightful to me. M, who spends so much time in his freaking brain and so little time allowing himself to step outside of the safety of rules and structure. It was good to see him creating something that couldn't possible be symmetrical. It was a lesson in the balance of asymmetry, actually, and I think it was a well-spent 4 hours for him. He kept asking me when we had to go home, reminding me that he had chores and homework to do, and I kept telling him to just relax and enjoy himself for damn once! And then he would go on building and creating and observing how some rocks seemed to fit together even though it seemed impossible that they would...and how some rocks appeared perfectly matched, but provided poor balance. Marveling, as well, about how sometimes structures gain more stability when more weight is stacked on top. All of these such wise ways of looking at the world. Ah, the wisdom of rocks. Ah, the wisdom of play.

Cole spent the majority of his time making up games and building cities in the water. I'm not terribly fond of the creek, but I am sure they have exposed themselves to more horrendous things before...and they were having such fun they did not even want to leave after 4 hours.

Anyway, it was a lovely day. I spent much of my time down by the shores clicky clacking away on my new toy. Taking photos, writing things down, doing some voice recordings, talking to C - the other mama present - and trying to keep the kids from injuring one another. The weather was absolutely perfect to the point of being unremarkable. I watched damselflies and dragonflies dance and mate on the water. Very few people passed through. It was absolutely refreshing and rejuvenating. :) I think it was my favorite field trip so far. I am so glad my guys enjoy such things. It reminds me that I don't have to worry. Sure, they are a bit obsessed with video games and other things that I would prefer they not spend so much time on, but they are also able to spend an afternoon playing with sticks and rocks in the sunshine and enjoying the beauty of those delicate moments that exist for no other purpose than absolute enjoyment. It is in those moments that it becomes abundantly clear that the best lessons are the ones we learn by just living and observing. It is in those moments when I recognize that so much of life is abstract, and takes on whatever form I perceive it to have. It is in those moments when it is clear to me that I have everything I need, and all I need do is relax and enjoy it.

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By the way...

October 22, 2007

I am feeling really tentative and self-conscious about blogging. I feel very rusty, and am wondering what is the point of it all. I'm just going to try to ignore those feelings and continue to write publicly. I think there is value in it, I'm just not sure what, exactly, that value is anymore...

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Mining for Cole.

October 22, 2007

It's Cole's birthday week this week. Wednesday will be his 7th bday. Seven. My baby is seven.

For me, Cole's birthday marks both one of the best and worst times of my life. Of course, it was wonderful to give birth to such an amazing little guy. The birth, which occurred at my home in my bed surrounded by people I cared about after a day spent visiting friends in a sort of peaceful haze of pain, was one of the proudest moments I've ever experienced. But there were less joyful circumstances surrounding his birth, as well. And the subsequent few years were very difficult for all of us.

Things are better now. For now. I try to be hopeful without being stupid about it. But still I tend to look back and cringe at all Cole didn't get in his first few years that Monk did get. Mostly little things. Because Cole did get a lot more of my time, but I'm not sure that he got as much of my focused attention.

I am thinking I need to dig up my journals from his first few years of life, because last night I was reading a journal from Monk's first few years and witnessing the joy of having that little person in my life and I just don't remember writing about Cole in the same way. Which is not to say that I wasn't happy with him. That child has always had an infectiously sweet way about him, even when he was a tiny infant who wouldn't sleep unless he was at least touching me and usually not even unless he was laying on my chest or cradled in the sling. And I know that second, third, fourth, etc., children usually suffer a dearth of memory books and remembrances of firsts, but the problem is that I don't remember things unless I write them down...and I am worried that I just didn't pay as much attention to Cole's development as I did to Monk.

Maybe that's the problem in general with my life post-Cole. I haven't been paying enough attention to anything. I lack focus. I am easily distractable and I go off on wild meandering tangents that always lead me back to where I started. I live, as one of my friends is constantly reminding me, in my own little world. And, unfortunately, I think it's a world that has become too well-guarded against invasion or even invitation.

So I am going to force myself to form a habit. I need to write about the kids every day. Because in writing about them, I notice them. I might not write so much about them in this space, because they are both older now and they don't necessarily appreciate my maternal gushing over their every day small victories...but I will record my memories of their abstract and concrete accomplishments in my paper journal. For a little while every day. So I can remember their place in my world. So I can prove to myself seven years down that I DO notice. And also...to train myself to pay attention. A little bit of focus every day on who they are as people and who they are becoming. And so one day we can look back at who they have been...

Excerpt from 11/23/1997 journal:

Monk goes about his way, learning and growing and becoming a young boy. Sometimes I wonder how we are doing as parents. There will always be things to resent, I suppose. It is frustrating and totally rewarding. To watch him grow. To be a part of his life. I hope he understands - I hope I convey the rewards more than the frustrations. He is a fantastic boy. Lately he has been amazing me with his practiced independence. He knows what no means, but chooses to ignore it..."

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The Dazzling Architecture of the Uninhabitable...

October 22, 2007

I would like to start blogging again. I would like to start putting out posts that have no moral/societal relevance whatsoever other than what the readers (however sparse) may assign. I don't know why I stopped, but I would like to get back in the habit, and what better time than the present.

Why did I stop blogging in the first place? I don't know, exactly. I know that I have grow increasingly disillusioned with the entire concept of news blogging. I thought about it pretty hard today, while walking, and I think right now I am just having a difficult time imagining that all the complaining actually does anything. I honestly don't think there's enough of a difference between republican and democrat to change the direction in which we are heading. Sure, there are some policy differences, and a degree to which the left might slow our descent into whatever a non-religious person might call "hell on earth," but I think the problems in this world are larger than that. And I think it's a shift in individual consciousness and, hopefully, collective consciousness that is needed to make a change.

No, I have not converted to any sort of bizarro cult, either. hahaha.

And, look...some of the idiots on the left irritate the shit out of me. For one thing, around here there's this whole "keep austin weird" contingent...and the "no wal-mart" crowd. On the surface, those sound like concepts I would agree with. But I dunno. It didn't take very long for me to get into a conversation with one of the no wal-mart people and realize that it's not Wal-mart that a lot of these idiots don't want. It's "those people" who shop at wal-mart (yes, I actually had someone from my disgustingly yuppified neighborhood say that to me) that are undesirable. I find it difficult to associate myself with a movement against large chain stores that isn't also against rampant consumerism in general. And I think that hypocrisy is what has made me feel incredibly blog-averse for a long time now.

And don't think I'm excluding myself from that judgment. Another huge part of my hesitance to blog about news and politics anymore is my own hypocrisy. Or, at the very least, my own reluctance to issue moral truths as if I somehow have a handle on right and wrong that no one else can figure out for themselves. I just don't.

Instead, what I am going to try to get back to doing is relating my experiences and my revalations and my own ideas about what it all means to me. I don't want to argue with anyone about what it means to them, and I don't want to assert my point of view as the only acceptable way of looking at things. I just want to WRITE. And be heard to whatever extent people want to hear me. I don't want to end up arguing with people about strollers again only to read countless posts from people who disagreed with something I said or some way I said it five years ago and use my frequent bouts of stupidity as a springboard to act like morally superior assholes. I fully admit I am an idiot. I have no answers. I only know that I have a way of looking at the world that I kind of want to share with other people. I miss it. I want to make time for it again.

The End.

Oh, P.S. Since I am, in fact, a total hypocrite...don't be surprised if I go around mouthing off on occasion. There's only so much mileage I can get out of talking about butterflies, spiders, and cute children. hahaha.

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ACL Fest was a gas!

September 16, 2007

I do believe I overtweeted, so I will spare my twits. My last tweet was "Monk ended our night the way he started it...by farting in the car." Thus the title of this post. Hahaha.

But we had A BLAST. I am so glad I brought Monk along, and so stoked that I got to spend the day with Melle and a little bit with Jason. It would not have been nearly as much fun if I had been by myself with Monk or with anyone who was the slightest bit less enthusiastic about all of the delicious delightfulness that abounded today. Melle and I got to freak out about Yo La Tengo together while Monk melted in the heat (I was so nervous that he wasn't going to make it based on his seeming discomfort in the first hour, but that child is a trooper & he stuck it out to the yummy end! Mostly because he hearts the decemberists so much, but also because he's getting to be such a big boy, and I think he really liked hanging out with mama and listening to music.) Yo La were awesome. I want to see them again for a longer set sometime. It made me squealy-happy that they all looked like they had just stepped on stage from the crowd. No fancy clothes. No pose. Just people having fun making music, you know? That's what I love.

At any rate, we kind of took a long break after Yo La and basked in the sun-behind-the-cloudsishness of the afternoon. Melle spent a great deal of time in front of the misters while Monk and I had our first round of veggie burgers and fries. I doused myself with sunscreen about a thousand times (and it WORKED! Look, ma...no sunburn!) and drank about a hundred gallons of water (it really takes a LOT to keep my hydrated.) but I felt pretty good.

The sun and heat reappeared when Jason arrived. And he went off to get a good spot for DevotchKa while Melle, Monk and I went for ice cream. We ended up standing back a bit for devotchka, but it was still fucking wonderful. The strings. The TUBA(!). The dancing. The banana-shaped shaker! I was tweeting like mad throughout the set. I almost missed the whole thing for tweeting about it. I am pretty sure I overtweeted all day, in fact.

After that, we went to stand in line for decemberists autographs. Monk was psyched, but sadly...due to his mama's unwillingness to leave the devotchka venue at the appropriate time, we missed the cut off. We got to stand in the line with some total decemberistsy-brand nerdy teenagers (monk in 4 years?) and met a guy who collects autographs for a living and said he would try to send me and Monk an autograph of the decemberists that he got awhile back. He seemed to feel really bad that the kids weren't going to get autographed. Melle got some good pics of the band, though. She came running up to me to show me one of colin signing some girl's boob...was about to show it to Monk, and then we both laughed at the inappropriateness of that! hee hee.

I think I am in love with Melle, by the way. She's a sweetie! I love her laugh. Absolutely priceless!

But alas, Melle and I parted ways. She met up with Jason at amos lee (who I guess I need to check out now...as well as The National, who sounded good to me in passing) while Monk and I moseyed over the Regina Spektor. I hate that I really like her, because I know she comes off as really precious...but I do think she is sincere. I don't think her sweetness is a schtick. What I get from her is that she really loves making music and being sillyish and having fun, and she's really glad that she is making a living doing it...and that makes me feel good about being a spectator of her. It was an hour of her delightful voice and her winning ways, and then Monk and I got some more veggie burgers and camped out in front of the Decemberists stage.

I had asked Monk about 152 times if he had to use the bathroom...and when does he decide he has an emergency situation on his hands? No less than 15 minutes before his favorite band goes on. Granted, we weren't all the way in the front, but the lines to the bathroom were long, and I was fighting for our space as it was with aggressive teenyboppers who wanted nothing more than to deprive my baby of his reward for putting up with my music all damn day. As my friend Gar would say...what're ya gonna do? He grabbed his walkie talkie and I stayed to hold down our little fort while he waited in lines that were 15 people long.

I could see him almost the whole time, but then there was this sudden surge forward and I had to hold our spot rather than move forward. I'm sure the girls I had griped at for trying to get in Monk's space were thrilled to be far away from me. Anyway, he couldn't find me for about 5 minutes after he got out of the bathroom, and the walkie talkies were crap and neither of us could hear each other (everyone around me was laughing because I would say "What? I can't understand you?" and Monk would respond "What? I can't understand you?!!!") but finally I saw him. He had his back to me and was about 15 feet away, and everyone else saw me waving at him before he did. And we were reunited after the longest separation of the day. I guess those damn walkie talkies that his dad loaned us actually DID come in handy. haha.

Anyway, gosh it was nice to be next to Monk for that show. He was all excited and arm wavey and grinny and he sang along to all of the songs and hee hee...he was even more thrilled to be there than ME...which says a lot. The Decemberists really rocked the fuck out, man. They were awesome. Once again another band that just looked like they were enjoying the FUCK out of being there and having the privilege to play music for a living, you know? I love that. I think I already mentioned that, though. I enjoyed the experience all the more for it.

After Decemberists, it was hugs all around and well wishes and Monk and I had thought about hearing dylan, but the old man just makes me sad with his barely audible voice. Monk made some comment about how Dylan is much like our old cat, Bela, and I couldn't stop thinking about that. I had told him, in response, that much like Bela...he's had a long and illustrious life and it would be a shame to miss seeing him much as it would be a shame to not appreciate the cat while she's still alive, but damn...both of them have that voice that would drive even the most ardent appreciator away, and I just couldn't hack it. I had to go. Fucking paying our respect, we had a shuttle to catch.

And we did. It was a long walk, but we made it. And we got on the bus and made it all the way home and Monk farted and I rolled down the window and we made comments on how smelly and tired we were and then we settled in for the night and I wrote this and now I think I am going to veg for a bit in my too messy house with my aching feet and my stinky self before I take a nice cold shower and hit the hay.

And tomorrow is another day in which there is not the anticipation of ACL fest in the near future. I wonder what I can anticipate now?

Posted at 11:00 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I have forgotten how to blog.

September 7, 2007

I have had a couple of requests from people who want me to blog more. To be honest...I have forgotten how. Hahaha. It has been so long, and looking back over old posts, I am amazed at how much time I spent on the newsy posts, and aghast about how much I revealed in my personal posts. I do not know if I have the time or the compunction to do either with the same regularity.

What I have been doing is taking care of the kiddos, writing in my journal daily, reading more, responding to angry anonymous neighbors demanding that I mow my lawn, working, attempting to meet people, and spending hours and hours of my time babbling to a good friend who is gracious enough to be a patient and often participatory outlet for my severe case of hypergraphia. So, if you want to blame my non-compunction on something or someone, you can blame my friend Chris - who for all intents and purposes (for better or for worse) has become my blog. The poor dear.

In spite of all the madness, I would like to return to the world of blogging. It's helpful to me to have this outlet and to get some feedback, or at least to know that my words are going out there, regardless of whether or not they are being received. It's just good practice for me.

And I guess the good news is that Chris and I will soon be taking our year+ worth of conversations, arguments, creative collaborations, and silliness and turning them into a webzine. I am looking forward to being able to provide more information about it, but for now I will just say you will either love it or hate it.

Anyway, I am off on a field trip with the kiddos. I hope everyone has a wonderful day!

Posted at 9:29 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

There comes a time when you just say "Fuck it."

August 28, 2007

Life is too short to take any one thing too seriously...and life is too short to not take things seriously at all. It's when I finally reach this point that I can just relax and enjoy what all is going on in all areas...and hope those around me can relax and enjoy things, too. Most of the shit I am worrying about, I have no control over, anyway, so why not just do what I can and relax and enjoy all the stuff that is right?

I called my mom yesterday to tell her about all of the driving and finagling I was having to do to get through my work day these days, and how it makes my work day span 12-16 hours sometimes just in the getting children to various places they need to be so I can go to meetings and trainings and just my every day job. I was feeling like I was acting like a weenie wimp because I ACTUALLY was hoping I would catch the flu that landed my ex in the hospital because, fuck, at least then I would get some rest. She laughed. She knows how it goes. My friends with kids know how it goes. Sometimes you get so caught up in that struggle, you forget what it is that you are struggling for.

Today, I looked up at that sky, and it was just right. And the birds are starting to gather for one of my favorite times of year. The kids were cracking me up and being cute, and I was remembering the magic of the lunar eclipse last night and feeling tired for having woken up at 4 AM to see it, but feeling so totally stoked that Coley loved it so much. And Monk was all grouchy, and I had been letting it get to me all day, and then it hit me that the reason he was being grouchy was because he didn't get enough sleep. Monk so frequently acts like an old man that I found myself being suddenly delighted that things like not getting enough sleep can make him lose control of his temper and act like a...well, like a child.

I finally had a chance to sit down and visit with two of my favorite mamas who I don't get to visit with nearly enough what with the major changes in schedule we have all endured. And it was nice to listen to how they have negotiated their differences and come out stronger...and it was nice to share my chaotic maelstrom of a life with them knowing that rather than worrying about me, they would reflect on the conversation later and smile about the fact that we are all living our lives in a way that makes us completely happy somehow, regardless of how different it is. Those differences, and that acceptance anchor me somehow. They make my life feel all the more chaotic and/but all the more wonderful for the fact that people who love me can appreciate my appreciation of it.

And on the way home from our friends' house, I told the children stories about road trips I had taken with their dad, and with them. And Monk remembered that one of the themes of a road trip we took when he was 4 and cole was 1 was "Cole eats dirt in all 50 states" because every time I would put that child down he would instantly insert a fistful of whatever the ground was made of and shove it in his mouth.

I asked the kids where they wanted to go for our field trip this week and Cole said "Japan!" and then "Mississippi" and I smiled, realizing that they get restless, too, knowing there is a wider world out there that they haven't yet explored...or even places they have explored that they miss and want to return to.

And I am thinking about those clouds and those birds and those children and those friends and all of those miles of road and life that snake and spider between and around and within it all, and I'm actually feeling pretty good. Summer is always hard. Things ease up in autumn. Everything will be ok. You are always loved. Everything will always be ok. Forever and forever and forever.

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From Wuthering Heights...

August 20, 2007

'And now, let us hear what you are unhappy about. Your brother will be pleased...The old lady and gentleman will not object, I think; you will escape a disorderly comfortless home into a wealthy, respectable one; and you love Edgar, and Edgar loves you. All seems smooth and easy: where is the obstacle?'

'Here! and here!' replied Catherine, striking one hand on her forehead, and the other on her breast, 'in whichever place the soul lives. In my soul and in my heart, I'm convinced I'm wrong!'

[...]

'I've no more business to marry Edgar Linton than I have to be in heaven; and if the wicked man in there had not brought Heathcliff so low, I shouldn't have thought of it. It would degrade me to marry Heathcliff now; so he shall never know how I love him: and that, not because he's handsome, Nelly, but because he's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same; and Linton's is as different as a moonbeam from lightning, or frost from fire.'

Dude, that's some gorgeously tragic shit right there. Sigh.

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My brain is mush

August 15, 2007

I am supposed to be sitting down to do my writing exercises right now, and I am rebelling by not feeling like I have anything particularly important to write about. Even though I do. Tons. But I am just really tired of trying to write my way through things that have no resolution. It's like my writer brain is screaming "RESOLUTION! CLOSURE! Dénouement, Damnit! DAY-NOO-FREAKING-MAHN ALREADY!

But, no. The story just goes on and on, with dramatic tension and dramatic irony galore. Not so much that it's ridiculously obvious what the conclusion should be, either. I can't even begin to guess the ending of this. I can't write it. I can't wing it. I can't fight it. I guess I just have to go with the flow, ride it out and see where it takes me.

And I will do that, but damnit...I'm not completely happy about it all of the time. Just sometimes. Well, most of the time. But at this moment? I'm feeling pretty damn impatient.

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Plans

August 8, 2007

I am nearing the end of my precious time of solitude, and I have a lot of thoughts about what I need to do from this point forward. Whenever I think about what I want, and feel a strong inclination towards something, I wonder about this inability some people have to know or act upon what they want. For me, the act of writing something down feels like I am exposing myself as a possible hypocrite if I don't follow through or if I change my mind.

The thing is, I think some people get hung up. They think knowing what one wants means knowing all of the whys and hows of achieving it, as well as all of the potential outcomes. Rather than acting, they calculate the odds and worry over strategies. And it's not always the other person they worry about...it's their own shifting desires. What if I want something, start to work towards it, and then change my mind?

I am fortunate enough to be able to, at least somewhat, put those things out of my mind. 90% of the time, I have no clue how I am going to go about getting what I want...nor do I have full confidence in the fact that what I want today is what I will want tomorrow...or weeks, months, or years from now. But I know I am resilient, so I will always recover. I know I am a good person, so if the object of my desire is a person, and those desires change, I will treat that person with the appropriate amount of care and respect. I know I take good care of myself, so I will not desire things to the point of hurting myself over them. Also, I know my priorities...and just because I have to sideline something for a bit to accomplish other goals, it does not mean I am a failure. Well, not usually, anyway.

So, with that preface, and after hours and hours of staring at the walls in luscious aloneness...here is the list of things I feel like I need to change in my life:

1. Movement - this one appears on all of my lists forever. At this point in my life, I tend to gravitate towards stillness. The kids and I need to move more often.
2. Environment - it really is time for me to work on the physical environment of my immediate surroundings.
3. Intention - More planning is necessary for me to accomplish all of the things I want to do.
4. Alignment - I need to work on aligning my actions with my ideals.
5. Integrity - This goes along with alignment. Too often, I think especially when I am not planning ahead, things get fragmented and I don't accomplish what I set out to accomplish.
6. Constant connection with my creative self, and an outlet for that creation - None of this "the kids interfere with my creative life" bullshit. They need to be included. I have plenty of time to create when they are asleep or I am away from them. I don't need to worry about being time-limited so much.
7. Community - Damnit, as much as I have loved the solitude, I need to be more active in my community...of friends, and on the whole.
8. Education - Both the kids and mine. We need to continue to create opportunities for learning and trying new things...even if we sometimes fail miserably.

***

There are actual activities that go with these actions. For one thing, to handle the issues of movement, environment, creativity, community, and education...as well as integrity, I am going to work with the kids to clean up our landscaping and create some nice garden spots in our yard...a little at a time. And document our progress in some sort of creative way as we haphazardly take on this project together.

In terms of community...I have often had the idea that I should start doing my monthly potlucks again. I get so freaked out about large numbers of people in my house, though...so I think I really just need to put forth a good effort towards inviting friends over to make food with me and have more intimate dinner gatherings more often. I have been saying this forever...but I think it's really time for me to make good on it. Sometimes it feels so freaking overwhelming to have to live my life AND to have to socialize with the people who make my life worth living (not to mention possible, because in a lot of cases, these people are providing me with a good bit of support, and they deserve to be catered to on occasion!) If I plan it, I can make it work.

In terms of my personal creative life, I think I am in a good place with that. I have several outlets and a wonderful creative partner who inspires me. I feel very lucky and I have no desire to mess with that other than to just keep things going.

I will be thinking about more of this stuff later...as the day progresses, I will slowly formulate a plan. The kids will be home tonight, all bubbly and no longer tired of their tired old mama, who herself will not be tired to receive them. We will hug and bubble over and read and kiss goodnight, and tomorrow morning, we will embark upon a new season together, with new ideas, new rhythms, new habits and patterns...and renewed love and appreciation for our little life together.

----------------
Now playing: Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds - Nobody's Baby Now
via FoxyTunes

Posted at 11:05 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

pomes from a walk

July 11, 2007

Birds
The hummingbirds in
my chest have been replaced by
weighty mourning doves.

Mom! Watch THIS!
Cole reminds me to
throw rocks in the water we
marvel at ripples.

Designs
Circles in circles
we make designs as a leaf
boat floats slow as swans.

...
The circles create
diagonal crosshatches
where they intersect.

Cole wrote this one by the waterfall
The wind is blowing niagara falls
cole is throwing, as all.
Time is rhymes, and rhymes are time
and rhymes are timed as cole was throwing
cole was throwing on the shore,
when i wanted to come and knock on his door...
And the end cause life is done
but my life is even better.

(i told him i didn't understand the ending, and he said... It's a
POME...yr not SUPPOSED to understand!)

Bugs
We found the wing of
a dragonfly: Coley put
it in his pocket.

...
I cry a little
Coley says...it's ok, mom...
It'll be ok.

Bug Wing 2, 3, and 4
The wing is veined and
exquisitely fragile, how
did it stay intact?

Cole says the veins are
for the blood and the blood is
for all that flying

we take it home, make
a display of a vital
organ twice removed.

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When it rains, it pours...

July 10, 2007

That is actually what the insurance agent told me today when I was calling in a claim on the back window of my van that was mysteriously smashed. (I have a suspicion it was the street sweeper, kicking up large shrapnel...but that could just be because a friend of mine had her van totalled by a street sweeper once, and I saw a street sweeper down the road once I got everyone going this morning.) Yes. This is the same van I have spent about 3200 dollars repairing in the past month.*

Indeed. When it rains it DOES poor. On the bright side, the actual rain here in Austin appears to have abated for now, so I don't have much to worry about with regard to leakage while I figure out how to get this fucker repaired. Also, I don't have a/c, and quite honestly...having no rear window makes it more comfy in the van. So, who knows...maybe I'll just leave it until the rains come again.

hahaha.

I think some people in my life question the sincerity of my brightsiding sometimes. I, myself, sometimes wonder if I'm not masking some deep-seated depression with cursed optimism. But I have to say that once I got over the initial shock of having to deal with YET ANOTHER fucking car problem, all I could do was laugh at my own weird misfortune. I am not at all sure how I feel about fate or any of that shit, but I do tend to believe that things happen for a reason, even if that reason is artificially generated. If I can create a reason for this event, it would sound something like "Quit yr fucking moping around, Lainie...seriously...it's just a car, and it's only life. Fucking DEAL."

Whatever the reason, the result of this latest pseudo-catastrophic event in my life has knocked my ass back to reality. It has made me laugh at myself like I should have been laughing all along. It has caused me to instantaneously and unconsciously reach an understanding and acceptance about the way things happen. There are no words. There are no thoughts. There just is. And when random events cause broken windows, even though it seems like vandalism, even though it seems like it's all about me...I will never know the cause anyway, so I might as well assume it wasn't anything personal.

Ah, life. *sigh* FINE. You win this round. I will return to optimism. I'll abandon my stupid grief and just fucking live. I'll accept things as they happen, because you know fucking what? Things are going to happen whether I accept them or not, and it tends to be more fun when I surrender and just go along for the ride.

So I cleared as much glass out of the back window as I could, strapped the kiddos in, and drove off...laughing.

*By the way, if anyone wants to contribute to the "fix the windshield" fund, there is a paypal link right there to the left. :P

Posted at 11:23 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Griffith Park Fires

May 22, 2007

Twitter is an amazing thing. Through it, I have been able to keep up with the happenings and goings on in far-friends' lives to an extent that I never could with blogs. I think it's that Twitter posts are quick and dirty and convey only the headlines of the lives I am interested in following. And I have some interesting Twits to follow!

A goodly contingent of my twits reside in southern CA, and have kept me informed about the fires that burn frighteningly close to their residences. Yesterday, Miss Martini posted a link to this flickr photoset that documents the aftermath of the Griffith Park fire. Some of the photos are disturbing, sad, and graphic...but there is also a beauty to them that is difficult to define. A horrific beauty.

I favorited this photo...and I keep going back to look at it. To remind myself. Yesterday, I really felt like that fire extinguisher. Today...not so much. Still, sometimes it's good to keep things in perspective. I am, afer all, only a tiny device in a vast, burning forest. It is true that I will never be enough...but I am something.

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Grateful Five

May 21, 2007

Trying to bring myself up this morning via some conscious gratitude:

Five things that made me smile big this weekend:

All of the sights, sounds, and smells on my leisurely daytime walks through my neighborhood. The weather was perfect. And getting to share a walk with Sam, too...it's always nice when I can drag someone else into my little private world for a tiny while.
Headless banjo players.
Futurama, season 4, disk 1.
Finding a babysitter for the Animal Collective show this Sunday.
Trout Fishing In America...particularly this passage: "A little ways up from the shack was an outhouse with its door flung violently open. The inside of the outhouse was exposed like a human face and the outhouse seemed to say, 'The old guy who built me crapped in here 9,475 times and he's dead now and I don't want anyone else to touch me. He was a good guy. He built me with loving care. Leave me alone. I'm a monument now to a good ass gone under. There's no mystery here. That's why the door's open. If you have to crap, go in the bushes like the deer.'
'Fuck you,' I said to the outhouse. "All I want is a ride down the river.'"

*sigh*

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My Brain

May 20, 2007

I have started to appreciate the spirit of gardening. It's such a creative and also time-consuming and labor-intensive practice. It seems to involve a great deal of forethought and artistry, but also there is this element of chance. It's one of those things that I find myself thinking "I wish I had time for that." And then considering that if I really wanted to make time for it, I probably really could. And then I start to think that I would rather appreciate the artistry of my neighbors than take it on for myself at this point in my life.

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about my brain. I can't tell if my thoughts about my thought-processes were what inspired a number of discussions on that topic this week, of if my week-long discussion of my thought processes has inspired me to think about it further. Either way, I am questioning a very basic way of viewing and processing the world that I have used for quite some time now, pretty much unconsciously. That is...I tend to narrate my way through life.

At the risk of sounding like a total nut, I am going to describe my history of this. hahaha.

When I was little, I did it with dolls and stuffed animals, and the disconnected imagining of what I called "scenarios." I remember when I was in high school, I managed to confess this constructed world of mine to a friend, and she agreed that she did the same thing. So I know I am not completely alone in this.

Later, this constructed world seemed to be replaced by a need to reinterpret my real world. Almost constantly. In my writing, I was always recording my emotional response to what I was experiencing around me. My journals from this time in my life are all weird disjointed sentence structures with words that sounded vaguely pretty together. It was very much a poetic picture of my emotional landscape. Meanwhile, the narrative began in zines and other forms of communication. Letter-writing. It seemed as if everyone I knew, myself included, had to spend a lot of time narrating and explaining their surroundings because we were all so geographically isolated.

And I kept communicating this way for years. Mentally writing notes about how I was going to describe my experiences in words once the experience was over. Because I am generally a fairly solitary person, but also because those who I was closest to emotionally were generally far away in proximity and could not share the actual experience with me. The retelling of the experience became part of the experience itself.

And I guess that is what I do today. I find myself searching for words to describe all of my senses in any given situation. It's not always something I am conscious of, but I am sure to an outside observer, it seems to be indicative of a disconnection from the experience when, in fact, it is my way of connecting TO the experience...and connecting others to the experience, as well.

I am not sure if any of this is making sense to anyone. I guess what jarred me about the week-long conversation I had on this topic is I was accused of being somehow phony because I find it necessary to expound on things that make me happy, and the feeling of happiness and gratitude that regularly comes rushing up through me even at the most depressing moments in my life. I think for this person, it is such an alien concept to find joy in sorrow that it seems to him that I am denying sorrow and manufacturing joy. I really don't think that is so. Just as I don't think it's ingenuine to feel nothing but sadness, I just don't feel that it's fake or shallow to seek contentment - even in the smallest doses - and focus on it until it expands exponentially.

I have more to say about this, but I think I will save it for later.

Posted at 6:24 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Three Parts Giving up, One Part Hope...

May 8, 2007

Part One
On my walk, I was thinking about how funny it is that I can so quickly lose interest in something. There are things that I have thought of as ultimate goals or desires, and really all it takes is one incident...one word, or a lack of words. Some small catalyst can quickly kill my drive or desire, no matter how strong the drive seemed to be just moments before.

I can't say the exact moment I lost interest, but I do know it happened quickly. One moment, anything seemed possible...and the next, nothing was desirable. It's not an incredibly happy thought, but for some reason it made me laugh. Perhaps it was nervous laughter. Who knows.

Part Two

I just realized why I laughed...and here is why: it is NOT at all easy for me to give up. I am ridiculously persistent to the point of obsessive. I will take a situation and examine it from every angle. I will see how certain people, projects, or situations might be able to fit into my life. I will exhaust EVERY effort to hold on to something that I deem worthy of holding on to...YET, when I finally reach the point where nothing works...*poof* it's over. No fanfare. No tears. No regrets. Just over.

I am tempted to say I have wasted years in trying to wrap my life around this situation...but I don't believe in wastes of time. I am just not quite sure what I was supposed to learn from it, and that kind of bothers me. I guess one thing I have learned is that sometimes things DON'T happen for a reason...but is that lesson worthy of the energy invested?

Part Three

Somehow, this song seems fitting...

Funny As In Funny Haha by Smart Went Crazy
A prizefight between your entropy and cowardice
The sweet science of being in love
The sweet science of giving up
Did she keep a file of all your lame excuses and vulgar transgressions?
Like the time that you said that you were afraid to confront your fear of confrontation?
A raw deal for your sweet complicit paramour
Someday she'll thank you, of course
That is what deathbeds are for
Now you'll have to dine alone

Part Four
(the hope is silent)

Posted at 10:12 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

My life in images, still and moving...

April 30, 2007

These seem to describe exactly how I am feeling lately...

This image:

This video:

Much, much more...but those about sum everything up.

Oh, and I have the frequent urge to shout out "Eat my dust, fuckers...I am fucking FREE!!!!"

Hahahaha.

Posted at 9:54 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Speechless...

March 30, 2007

Actually, not really. the thing is lately I am overflowing with ideas to the point of utter overwhelmitude. When I sit down to try to write about one thing, I can't narrow it down.

But, suffice to say, I am full of ideas. I have been using my voice recorder a lot. We will see if I ever have a chance to expound on the ideas I record there. I have been thinking a lot lately about fictionalizing my life...about creating a safe space in which to write about certain things I am experiencing by couching them in fiction so no one knows what the facts are. It's appealing to me, and I am kind of ashamed to admit that I keep forgetting that I have the artistic license to lie. I don't owe anyone the full truth about myself except those I am intimately acquainted with...and, to be honest, I am learning to be selective about what I tell THEM, as well.

Things are good, though. I had a nice interaction with a friend yesterday that helped me to pull my ass out of my head. I had to cancel plans with another friend because I just wasn't up for it...but then I had to eat, so I invited another friend out for PANCAKES (yum!) at Magnolia (not the trunk one). By the time the night was over, I was just so energized and happy it seemed ridiculous that I had ever felt exhausted or sad. So, yeah. I know I always say this, but I am really blessed with some pretty special people in my life. People who inspire me. People who conspire with me. People who I admire. Sometimes I forget how busy my life is, and how difficult it can be to have real relationships with people amidst that busy-ness. I am glad that I have friendships that accommodate that, and also those friendships that can be put on hold for weeks or months - or even through hundreds or thousands of miles and years and years...and can start right up again without even skipping a beat. People with whom I have been through a lot of shit, as well as people who have just quietly been There. People I have endured, and people who have endured me. hahaha. You get the picture.

Anyway, I feel pretty lucky right now. Or maybe I feel blessed. I always do...it's just sometimes I feel like I don't deserve it. And, also...I can recognize the importance of spending a few weeks in a state of somber reflection. I have come to some conclusions and gained some insight, and I am ready to move forward and take advantage of that wisdom.

Posted at 10:17 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

For a muse... (can you tell where I got interrupted and lost the flow?) :P

March 28, 2007

Our friendship is held captive by your desire & while I, too, desire - I don't require requisition - it's like you are on some kind of crazy mission to capture a flag or climb a mountain & meanwhile, I am enraptured by this fountain of you that these birds deftly bathe in, oblivious to the endless cat and mouse, they only twitter and chirp while you solemnly grouse and I rush in the save the bits and pieces from this ever-burning house.

Damn desire! Damn require! Damn requisition, too! Let's sit side by side, me & you. Forget the rest and watch the water as it beads on feathered breast. That, my friend, is all that I request.

For desire is fleeting as this fire, and while the flames burn ever higher - all in its path is destroyed. And to require is to deny the beauty of the unrequited, our love is more than bodies/souls united, and requisition puts us in the awkward position of being someone's precious possession.

Instead, again, let's watch the bathers bathe and, once clean, fly up as one in some unseen choreographed dream...and you and I, as if winged, may perhaps convene obscene before we part again - one part united, the rest untied & free to be each others' trees in which our hearts and souls nest. Free.

Posted at 9:28 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Argument Haiku

March 18, 2007

I just had the BEST idea while I was out there hanging laundry (yes, ladies and gentlemen, I did ANOTHER four lines today. That's 8 (I just tried to capitalized "8") count them EIGHT, lines of laundry in two days. Now I gotta fold that shit!). Here is my idea...you ready?

ARGUMENT HAIKU.

Think about it...the next time you get into an argument, why not argue IN HAIKU. You have to stop before everything you say and create the 5-7-5 flow...and not only that, but you have to say something naturey! If you still manage anger through that, then at least you will baffle, amuse, and/or irritate your fightmate - any one of which might create a less volatile situation in which to argue!

I would give an example of argument haiku, but lately all of my arguments have been about stuff like "clash vs. sex pistols" hahahaha...and I am not sure that would make good haiku. Lemme see...

"overrated tripe,"
you say? Let me tell YOU, sir...
...an earthworm tunnels.

hahahaha.

Posted at 5:36 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Twittery Haiku

March 15, 2007

twittery haiku
(inspired by smartiekat, composed while hanging laundry, for...)

When you see birds, I
wonder if you think of me.
Love chirps eternal.

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sxswi - the end

March 15, 2007

I am going to try to recap my adventures elsewhere (with links!) but I feel compelled to say "it's over." All of my sxsw friends have flown away until next year, and I'm still in Austin. As anticipated, it was almost like the ending of/beginning of a movie with everyone twittering their airport frustrations, and finally landing at their varied destinations, weaving in and out of each others' paths, and rejoining their lives already in progress.

I spent much of yesterday working, and much of today so far has been spent sleeping, as I seem to have a raging case of cedar fever. It's good though. My body knows me well. I could almost hear it plotting for/against me "Look," my body says to all of the overactive little white blood cells... "there is no way she is going to let herself sleep in on the first day of her vacation unless we take her down by force!"

And take me down, they did. Now, I feel ok. Refreshed. I have a bit of a headache, but my body really needed the sleep, and I am up and at 'em. Playing Sims, planning a total house cleaning spree, reading to the kids, and making reservations and itineraries for my short jaunt out of town next week. I keep wavering between whether I want to go for one night or two...I will have to decide by tomorrow. On the one hand, I might as well hit three different points in Dallas while I am out...on the other, it's expensive to be away from home base for that long. On yet another...why not splurge while I have a little bit of throwaway cash. I guess I will see how far I get with the house cleaning and decide from there. At least I got my seemingly inevitable sick-while-on-vacation thingy out of the way right off the bat.

The change of seasons is close at hand. Winter to spring is a time for renewal. I have a lot of old habits and worn out relationships that I either need to upgrade or trade in to make room for something healthier and cleaner. In the interim, I have much to consider. It's also time to think about the daily/weekly/monthly rhythms we have established as a family, keep what works and discard the rest...and perhaps seek new rituals to fill the gaps. The boys are getting bicycles from the spring fairy, in addition to our trip to the museums of Dallas. They refuse to learn to ride, but I am tired of being bound to the car. I need to prepare them for the potential of one day not having a car, and I just think it sounds nice to go on a family bike ride. We'll see how they do.

So, that's it. I love it when there is such a marked and tangible ebb and flow in my life. The sxsw'ers washed up on the shores of Austin, left little gems of love and knowledge, and have drifted away on friendly tides. I'm so happy I got to share their presence, even though their absence makes me sad.

Posted at 11:39 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

oh, and...

March 12, 2007

I almost just twittered that I was writing a blog post about twittering. Instead, I chose not to twitter it, and, instead, wrote this blog post about thinking about twittering about writing a blog post about twittering.

hahahahahahahaha.

Posted at 8:23 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

a couple of thoughts about twitter

March 12, 2007

I almost twittered these, but I thought I would spare my fellow twitterees and maybe entice some non-twitterers...

The idea of twittering faux responses to faux conversations makes me get all mischievously grinny inside.
I am seeing this pattern among sxsw'ers where everyone has converged and are now going their disparate ways and the idea of having a record of that convergence and dissipation kind of intrigues me. Esp. the idea of people going on and twittering about their every day lives.
Also, I'm digging the idea of having twittery poetry groups...or folks who create an ongoing twitter creative work. Like an endless fictional dialog.

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sxsw - night one

March 10, 2007

Didn't attend any of the day panels today, but as soon as the kids were gone, I started scheming my nighttime plans. Jumped the number 3 bus after hesitating for too long to get going. Long enough to where I wasn't going to be on time to get my badge tonight no way nohow...so looked on the capmetro site to find the best way to get to Freddie's for the BlogHer meetup, and although the site advised that I take the #3 for the fewest transfers, it neglected to mention that it's a nearly 2 hour bus ride that loops around on Lamar and back up South First after making the entire route.

No matter, though. Before I saw Oltorf whiz by, confirming that I had, in fact, gone way too far, I was busy marveling at the bus experience in general. I know it's dumb to say I'm not privileged enough to take the bus, but I do wish I had enough time in my day to allow me to utilize public transportation more frequently. There is just something to being on a bus with other people. It's kind of intimate in a way. And as I sat in my sit listening to music, I watched as a woman who resembled a greek goddess boarded, flowing wavy hair and aquiline nose and a face that seriously looked like it had been chiseled from marble. She sat down on the bench across from a man who seemed way too happy to be on the bus. As she sat down, I noticed a 20-something year old boy stealing shy glances at her, and I really didn't blame him. And the man (who was sitting next to him) kept smiling. And then, suddenly, he threw his hand up and gestured out the window at some invisible message-receiver. It was a thumbs up or a hook-em-horns thing. And the goddess pulled out her notebook and started scribbling something, flipping back and forth between pages, and the man randomly gestured in a benign way out the window. Thumbs up, power to the people, victory fist...stuff like that. With no apparent pattern or rhythm. And the goddess pushed her hair behind her ear and scribbled more in her notebook. And I observed, thinking "Man, I need to write this DOWN." because it was seriously like some sort of choreographed and coordinated performance that made absolutely no, yet somehow all kinds of, sense. But I didn't have any paper or pen and I thought about texting it to someone, but it seemed too long to text out...so I figured I should create a voice recording, and chuckled to myself that would be the height of audacity, wouldn't it? To be sitting there describing out loud what was happening in front of me. I think it means something that the idea of talking to myself into a recording device is somehow only crazy if the people I was talking about were right in front of me. But that's what my logic determined to be true. And as I was chortling to myself about this, Oltorf whizzed past and Oh Fuck....hahaha...I was way past my stop.

So, I'm getting texts from friends and twitter and I am headed for way south austin while everyone else is arriving at Freddies, but it doesn't really matter because I am honestly really enjoying the ride. So when we stop at the end of the line before we turn to go back up, I whip out my voice recorder and in fact do make a voice recording recounting the dance of the disconnected strangers, beginning with "I am now that crazy lady who talks to herself on the bus."

And finally I made it to Freddie's where I was greeted warmly by friends. Saw Tracy, got all loud and laughingy and totally rudely interrupted the conversation he was having with Erica, gave Jason and George hugs, said hey to a silent Baratunde (I forgot how to spell his name and hope I did not butcher it too much) talked to some random dude who was wondering where all of the people with nametags had come from, punched Lynne in the face (later, I nearly assaulted her with my yo-yo. SORRY LYNNE!) spoke with Adina and, oh, what IS her name...purple mohawk woman whose name escapes me...oh, yeah...Liz. Ate a portabello mushroom sandwich and some fries, had some conversations, stuck around until they were clearing tables, when we discovered the tab had been covered by lord knows who, so we got into Tracy's rental and drove to Opal Divine's for karaoke, decided it was not our scene, walked on over to Ruta Maya for coffee and met up again with George and Jason and Lynne (who I think I managed to not injure or even come close to injuring for the rest of the evening). Drank iced coffee, talked shit, told a scraggly hippy dude that we were not, in fact, in possession of any weed (is that what he called it? I think he called it something fancier than weed...but it's not coming to mind what term he used). We started yawningish, and george had left so Tracy drove Lynne and Jason home and headed back up to my place where I did dishes while he read and now he sleeps while I write and listen to music on my headphones, and even though I really want to stay up all night cleaning my messy house, I think I'm going to head to bed right after this.

It was nice to see everyone...and I think I did see just about everyone just tonight alone. I am looking forward to more!

ETA: Good conversations: w/George about presidential hopefuls, w/Erica about Metroblogging, w/Jason and Lynne about project management, w/Tracy about communication issues.

The quote of the night was from Jason who, in response to me saying "I wasn't lost, I just missed my stop and had to come all the way back around" said "That is the very definition of lost."

Posted at 2:37 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

geek by geek west

March 7, 2007

This year, there will be no breathless accounts of all the great bands I have seen, because I have my kids this week and they are not really compatible with crowded, loud music venues. Damnit, too, I really REALLY wanted to see Public Enemy! PUBLIC ENEMY! FOR FREE! IN AUSTIN! (Maybe I will find a babysitter for that)(although I am having a hard time imagining who would watch my kids rather than going to see public enemy live for free)

HOWEVER, I *am* attending sxsw interactive. So if there is anyone out there who will also be attending, let me know so we can hang.

Posted at 9:15 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

Soundscapes.

February 24, 2007

I am not sure if I have posted links to any of these, but I have been collaborating with a friend of mine on some soundscapes. Basically, I get to walk around talking to myself, and he takes my words and makes them somehow more. He's a freaking genius, is what he is...and I love the result. It almost makes it bearable to listen to myself talk.

Anyway, here are some links to the posts on my vox page:

Lainiescape 1

Lainiecast 1

Enjoy! I am hoping there are more to come.

Posted at 10:19 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Some Updates!

February 23, 2007

I can't believe how badly I have been neglecting my dear sweet bloggy blog. I think I am frustrated with the comment spam and having to approve comments and all that jazz and I have been using vox and myspace and even last.fm more for blogging, although my heart belongs to drublood, my first bloggy love!

At any rate, I have some updates, if not any actual writing.

First, I am finally going to say this out loud with a date attached to it because I am afraid if I keep it to myself I will find a way to cop out or allow my partner in crime to cop out...so here goes...I am starting a zine with a friend of mine, and I am very excited about it. We are aiming for a release date of April 1st for the first issue of Panopticon. I am not sure if my partner is joking or not, but the first issue could potentially be all about how difficult it has been for us to work together. Difficult and ultimately very fun and rewarding, at least for me. He's a treat and a half, and I think the zine, whatever we end up actually writing about, will have a good deal of energy and entertainment value. We'll see what it shapes up into and becomes. I'm pretty psyched. Ok, I am VERY psyched. It's looking right now like this will primarily be a web-based zine, but we have gone back and forth several times on that issue. I am sure we will go back and forth several more times before we come to some sort of conclusion.

Second...there is no second. Now that I mentioned the first thing, it's all I can think about. I am hoping to start blogging here more, and I will definitely post more information as I get it. Yay! :)

Posted at 8:51 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

If you always get up late, you're never gonna be on time...

February 3, 2007

Woke up early this morning, cold. I have this thing where, in phases, where the minute I get up my nose starts running and it makes it difficult to go back to sleep. So I was waiting around for my nose to stop running and decided I might as well go for a walk. I guess I figured it's not often that I am up early enough to watch the sun come up. And it's really kind of amazing to watch the light shift and the trees that are black against indigo sky become trees that are varying shades of brown against greyblue sky. I think trees have taught me more about negative space than any university level art class could. The branches all bumpy with buds as another faux spring is behind us. And, as I am noticing in my little weather report bar, one is upcoming, as well.

Right now, though, it's a chilly 29 degrees out there, and the walk was brisk and cool, but the music selections - as always - warmed my soul...as did thoughts of laughter and conversation throughout the week. Even though I have had a vague tiredness about me all week, it has been a good one. And now the sun is all fully out in the sky and the birds are singing and I am still not wanting sleep even though I really SHOULD. I am no longer tired, though...and might just as well go about my day as if a full night of sleep has been had. Right now, I am contemplating breakfast.

I am also thinking about a conversation I had yesterday in which a friend of mine was proposing that joy is shallow and that all creative urges arise from sorrow. I have been thinking this throughout my joyous walk, greeting my joyous day, surrounded by the joyous chirping of birds. Of course I know my friend knows better, but it struck me. Made me think a lot about happiness...not mere contentment, but utter bliss...as a creative process in and of itself. At least as much as sorrow, if not more. And it was extra super funny, because I was listening to my friend's music at the time that I thought this and noticing no small amount of joy in what he has created...no small amount and on occasion an absolute and unmistakable ecstatic expression of love for life. In fact, it's one of the reasons I admire him so.

So, yeah. That's me. Stumbling along feeling mystified and alive and watching the day break (and now...trying HARD not to think about Barry Freaking Manilow)("and let it shine! Shine! Shine! All around the world!")(ah...fuck!) and listening to bird songs and dog sighs and that certain silence that exists in a house that is absent its children.

Love love. Hope yr day is wonderful.

Swimmers
by Broken Social Scene

I was
Waiting for you
I was
Standing around
I was
Getting older
I was
Going down

If you always get up late
You'll never be on time
If you always make it after lunch
ba ba dada

I've done work
Oh, the day never comes
And I stand up
Waiting on

I saw you down there
I know you were tired
I saw you
You looked like a swimmer

I wanna be with you
All of the time
Why can't you satisfy?

You look good
But you sound better
You were the best I had

If you always get up late
You're never gonna be on time
If you always get up late
You're never gonna be on time

And that's a shame
Cause I like you
I never see you.

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Love the Life you Live

January 28, 2007

[source]

I'll be honest. It was a sucky week. Everything was all knocked off kilter due to various scheduling trickeries I had to pull in order to simply get to work every day. Come to think of it, it has been a sucky few weeks. I have had a difficult time finding reasons to enjoy life. Inspiration comes in small doses and is measured out in tiny spoonfuls into the gaping ocean of my life.

And yet. Somehow...Impossibly...I find ways to remind myself. Like going to a random website linked to off of someone's last.fm page and finding the photo above. A simple photo with a simple message that had me singing "And if you can't live the life you love, honey...LOVE the life you LIVE!" to myself all weekend long.

And it works in theory and in application. There just seem to be several situations in my life over which I have no control. I am bothered by this, and I attempt to exert whatever small amount of control I can muster in order to deal with the frustration of having none that is direct. This doesn't help, so I have to learn to let go. I have to learn to surrender. I have to learn to love the life I live.

And there are plenty of opportunities to practice this. With my children today on our Sunday hike. Things didn't go as planned and Monk spent the entire time moping, disappointed that the spot we chose was so much better the last time. We are suddenly invaded by overly-friendly dogs, and I marvel over the fact that I would rather sit down and be molested by canines than simply stand up for myself...by simply standing up. I marvel because, you know what? Sometimes it's true. Sometimes it's ok to remain seated. Sometimes magic exists in the things you allow to happen without influence or coercion.

In attempting the talk the children into having a good time, pointing out all that I was observing, talking about expectations and disappointment, discussing how to learn to love the life you live in kid-terminology. It occurred to me that this, too, was a point of surrender. It suddenly struck me that my children, in choosing find the worst in the situation, were merely giving me an opportunity to share with them the methods I have learned to employ all of my life to escape those negative thought patterns that would tend to keep me bound to ennui and terminal disappointment. In their way, they are allowing me to leverage their misery into a life lesson that will hopefully provide them with coping skills they can use later in life. They are forcing me to teach them, through consistency and repetition, how to love the life they live.

And they know this. They griped the entire way back to the car while I tripped along pointing out the edges of trees against sky, the red robin fluttering through the trees, the particular shape of a horseshoe. All of these things that they have pointed out to me countless times in brighter moments (which, believe me, are more numerous than the miserable ones, if hopelessly underappreciated). At one point, they began to grip about how cold they were. Monk looked at me slyly saying "You could have WARNED US!" Laughing because he KNEW before we left the house I had asked them, countless times, if they wanted jackets, warmer clothes, etc. and both of them poo pooed my experience and chose to wear short sleeves/shorts...no socks on their feet. My obstinate children.

But it's all good. This is all a part of that life that I love and am living. And the same week that gave me frustration and sadness and anger gave me a humongous tickle war (which I WON - don't you fucking listen to what Monk would tell you!) and lots of good music to listen to and overly friendly dogs shaking creek water on us all and horses and riders and thoughts and feelings and most of all, love. Love and practice loving the life I live.

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Five Things Meme

January 25, 2007

Richard tagged me for this meme...probably because he knows how much I like to talk about myself. ha! It's a simple one...Reveal Five Things About Yourself is my directive. Well, ok, then:

I am left-handed. Writing, cutting, eating..lefty. Playing softball, though, I am a righty. Sometimes I feel an odd sense of pride over my left-handedness, as if that somehow makes me more authentic as a total weirdo.
I do a lot of crude chalk drawings when no one else is looking. I have been doing these for years and years. I have some up in my room, and I have shown some to a select few people. They aren't terribly good, artistically speaking, but they are mine...and I think they reflect me.
I'm not sure how obvious this is, but I'm terribly obsessive. I have recently discovered, in comparing myself to other friends I have who have obsessive/compulsive thought patterns, that I somehow managed to train myself to shift my obsessive focus to something positive or at least neutral whenever I start to get overly focused on upsetting stuff. Thus all of the weird tangents into things like birds and trees...and, really, my obsessiveness explains my need to have a running dialog in the form of blog or chat. It's good to have a place to put one thought so I can move on to the next.
I don't have a functioning clothes dryer in my house, so I hang all of my laundry out on the clothesline. I actually started doing this before the clothes dryer broke, and I think the dryer would be an easy repair, but I am worried that if I fix it, I will be less motivated to hang clothes out.
When I was in middle school, my mom took the whole family to this dude ranch in Chicago. We had been there one time before, but this time there was this whole Urban Cowboy thing that had just begun to ignite, so my brothers bought into it hook, line, and sinker. Anyway, I spent my junior high years earnestly listening to country music and recoiling whenever I would find random makeshift spittoons lying around the house. One of my brothers actually went on to get a degree in range and ranch management. I wonder if John Travolta appreciates what he did to my family. Hahaha. (I actually had to just visit IMDB to reassure myself that it was, in fact John Travolta who starred in that movie. And...Indeed. It was.)

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I narrowly escaped with my pocketbook

January 22, 2007

This morning, I had a dental appointment in which our new dentist informed me that my son does NOT need the over 1000 bux worth of dental work that our old dentist insisted he needed. Needless to say, I am thankful for that. So, yeah. I am marveling at our healthcare system today.

The unbridled greed of corporatized healthcare is breathtaking. United HealthGroup, currently listed as #37 on the Fortune 500, earned $3.3 billion in net profits in 2006--up 28 percent from the year before. Wellpoint made a whopping $2.5 billion, a 157 percent increase. When is the last time you got a 28 percent raise? 157 percent? It's blood money, pure and simple. How much profit is generated by the death of an uninsured or undertreated American?

Motherfuckers.

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Alternate Universe

January 19, 2007

Susan and I were discussing the concept of an alternate universe fantasy today. We were mostly talking about how we create alternate universes to act out in our minds what we cannot have in real physical lives.

I've been thinking about this concept ever since. I think I spontaneously create these alternate universes all of the time - not just involving people, but situations and lifestyles. Usually, I keep it all in my head, but sometimes I write about it. The trick is to always be aware that this is a universe that I am creating, and that people in the real world should not be held accountable to their role in the alternate universe. Hahaha. It sounds kookier than it is. It also sounds, I think, more sex-oriented than it is. Mostly it is just about exploring possibilities and venting the frustrations that arise from living in a world where so much is out of one's control. In your mind. Like an endless Sims game. Only, you know, in your mind.

The important thing is that, when awakening from this alternate universe, it is important for me to take stock of what actually exists. It is important to take stock and be grateful for all of the wonder of the real universe...to appreciate what I have created in reality, and to enjoy all of the beauty that surrounds me without me ever having even given it a thought.

It is true that it can be cathartic to manufacture a reality, but once you have reached that point of catharsis? Reality itself, in all of its infinite unpredictability, can be pretty fucking awesome.

"the butterfly doesn't take it as a personal achievement...it just disappears into the trees..." -Jack Kerouac

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A note to my fellow Austinites, from someone who hails from a colder clime

January 17, 2007

One alternative to spending the better part of 3 hours banging at the ice on your windshield until you actually CRACK the surface upon which you are beating (which, by the way, causes one of THE MOST irritating noises when heard one house over) is to actually, you know, warm up your freaking car. That way, within 20-30 minutes or so, the ice really just melts off. Ta-da!

Or, you could just keep banging until your angry neighbor marches out, grabs the keys out of your hand, turns the car on, and introduces you to the REAL reason there's a deFROST exhaust on your car's dash.

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Forgiveness and worth

January 14, 2007

I was just thinking about forgiveness...and whether one is worthy of it. It seems, just as most people (if not all) are worthy of love, most people are worthy of forgiveness...if not all. And even if that was not true, those that are truly unworthy are really good at pretending they are. So why punish those who are worthy for the misdeeds of those who are not?

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Talking to Myself

January 11, 2007

For my birthday, I got myself one of them fancy mp3 player device thingys. A really fancy one with a voice recorder. So, last night on my walk...I started thinking about some lines for a poem (like I usually do) and I was cursing the fact that I don't have a ticker tape attached to my brain, but then I remembered (cha-ching!) the voice recorder, so I whipped it out and do you know I spent the rest of my walk talking to myself. That shit is addictive. I sent all but the most embarrassing ones to my friend so he can totally make fun of my goofy-ass voice. I think once I get over that kind of vain/childlike joy of hearing the sound of my own voice, it will be fun to play with sounds. I am getting that the recording device doesn't pick up very subtle sounds (I was trying to record the sounds of leaves in the wind, but all I got was the wind part) but I am thinking if I do some research there might be some good ideas out there for how to optimize the recording capabilities.

Either way...what fun! A new toy to play with! A new way to create things! Possibly a new possibility for collaboration! It was, I think, a worthwhile investment.

Oh, and it's also nice to have my entire mp3 collection at my fingertips.

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Love

January 9, 2007

Have you ever just fallen totally in love with someone you have no freaking business falling in love with, and you KNOW IT, and yet you can't seem to stop yourself and months later you find yourself sitting there, still totally in love, limping along, nursing that huge huge feeling, not quite knowing what to do with it all but knowing that any expression of that love would only cause pain and sorrow for everyone involved and still trying to pretend that you can carry on and be friends and hang out and act like it's really No Big Deal when HOLY FUCKING CHRIST is it EVER a big FUCKING deal. So you sit and wait for all of those delicious feelings that have no home to fade and they don't and they don't and STILL they don't through all of it and you burst into tears for no reason at random intervals for SIX FUCKING MONTHS and still no relief from this love or this pain...

...and at the same time, HOLY SHIT! This is LOVE we are talking about and it's HUGE and it's beautiful and it's wonderful and six months of random tears are nothing compared to the random intervals of just full-in-the-chest bursting you experience...and it's the kind of love that although there is pain in non-reciprocation there is really no reciprocation necessary because there's this person, right? This wonderful beautiful birds-in-the-chest-fluttering inspiring person who exists in this world totally independent from you and you will never be close enough to them to fuck up that image of them, you will always have it and you will always carry it with you to remind you that you are whole and you are human and sometimes humans do crazy ass shit like fall in mad, impossible love for months at a time for no apparent reason and defying all logic and even though you are still sitting there with tears in your eyes, all of a sudden the view shifts just a little bit, and a tiny glint of light becomes rainbows cascading all around. And birds and butterflies, too.

And you laugh and laugh and laugh and oh holy fucking shit do you ever laugh.

Not that I know any of this by experience, mind you. I was just wondering if it's ever happened to any of you.

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Top Things of 2006

January 7, 2007

Here are some of my favorite things from 2006, in no particular order other than the order in which they pop into my brain:

Sharing my home with Pansy & fam
Sharing my home with Rachel & fam
Finding the best housemate ever
One Mr. Christopher J. Lilly and all his varied variosity
Always, my boys.
Broken Social Scene
Getting back in touch with my friend John, and getting to view his wonderful photojournals
Vacations alone
Susan (no other words necessary)
One Mr. Sam Berry and peels of laughter & bad movies
My Awesome Job
"Crown of Love" by The Arcade Fire
LOVE
One Mr. Harold Lehman and all that entails.
Black Wax Machine (see also: Christopher J. Lilly)
Megan and family and various kindnesses therein
Parrots in the middle of Austin
Longing as the better part of love
My awesome job
"We are going to eat pizza and watch a movie about bugs?" "yes" "Thrilling" "Would you rather eat bugs and watch a movie about pizza?"
Leaves blowing in the middle of the road, and turning out to be butterflies
sxsw interactive 2006 (including...gah! Too many groovy people to list, but I will try anyway...Anna and Jason and George and Felicia and Tiffany and EJ and Timothy and of course j. I should probably link all of those to the appropriate sites, but I am feeling so so so so lazy right now. Maybe I will do it later.)
Card playing on Thursdays (uh...need to revive that one!)
One Mr. Tracy Ruggles and a week of debauchery.
Little Miss Sunshine
Falling completely, irrevocably, and IMPOSSIBLY in love
Oh k8!
Tripping over dogs
Neutral Milk Hotel (yes, I know I'm like 6 years too late, but still! !!!!!!)
The Proposition (and its wonderful soundtrack
One Mr. J.S. and all of his yummy delicious goodness
Any of several arm-wavey conversations about music with friends in person and online.

(I am sure there is more that I am egregiously forgetting)

Things to look forward to in 2007

Artistic collaborations with dear, inspiring friends.
Panopticon!!!!
More outdoor time
More music
Finding the joy and bliss and love in everything around me, even the very most difficult things.

Love love!!!

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Me in my birthday suit!

January 5, 2007

(click to go there and peep my birthday self portraits. I'm all fancied up to run my errands)

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This is Cheesy and I Know It

January 3, 2007

I just took the kids out to see the Eragon movie, and I was struck by something that I have noticed strikes me in other movies of that ilk. And, no, it's not hot guys in leather pants, although...yes. I am sure they threw all of them in there for the mommy set.

Anyway, what struck me is this concept of love as a source of vulnerability as well as strength. That you can be complete without love, and that love is scary and opens you up to all sorts of vulnerability, but that it ultimately makes you stronger.

It's difficult for me to determine how much of this is reality and how much is more bullshit being shoved down our throats, but I tend to believe that it is so. And the thing is, too, that it's not necessarily romantic love that leads to this vulnerability/strength. In movies such as Eragon...and really...what I was thinking about as I was watching that movie was The Crow. This concept of an external being that represents love, and that weakens and strengthens the coefficient depending on its state of vulnerability.

Anyway, I think the concept is beautiful, even if it is not necessarily realistic or true. And since I am largely an optimist, I even believe that it IS realistic and true, in spite of my logical mind that plaintively bleats otherwise.

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What I have done on my vacation, parts 5 and 6

January 1, 2007

The day began yesterday with a hike on the concrete trail of Pflugerville's Northeast Austin Municipal Park. The kids hated it (but I am an evil mommy and am going to start enforcing weekly doses of traipsing around outdoors) but I loved the trees

(sparse though they were) and even saw what I think was a great blue heron, although I was too surprised and amazed to take a picture. After I recovered from the shock and realized what I was looking at, it flew away, and kept evading camera capture. The boys weren't helping with their loud complaining. hahahaha. I am the worst mom in the world. I kept telling them to save it for the PILLOW FIGHT, which got underway shortly after our late dinner.

The boys both stayed up until midnight to ring in the new year playing video games. I was bouncing around asking them if they wanted to bang together pots and pans or whatever, Coley said "No." Quite flatly. Monk said "I'm not a lunatic." and when I yelled happy new year out the door, he said "Now all of the neighbors think YOU are a lunatic...and I am son of a lunatic."

Ah, nothing like jaded, video game playing kiddos. I sent them to bed shortly thereafter! Teach THEM to be ambivalent about the new year!

Of course, Coley woke up at 8 AM, which means guess who else woke up at 8 AM? ME. That's who. He's all "I need to have my morning snuggle, or I will be grouchy all day, mom." Who can refuse that kind of threat?

*sigh*

One whole week left of my vacation! Unbelievable. I have forgotten what it is like to go to work.

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How Things Go

December 28, 2006

So, the subject of purple bananas came up here, and in an attempt to discern the truth from the myth, I ran across this essay, which magically mentions McGreevy's (the dance club I, and evidently the author of the article, used to hang out at) AND purple bananas in one essay. How funny!

But I'm still not having any luck determining the veracity of the assertion (by Monk) that all bananas used to be purple, but they were bred to be yellow. Does anyone else know the answer to that one?

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What I have done on my vacation, part three

December 28, 2006

Today, on the request of the children, we are sitting around all day playing video games in our underwear. There will be no pictures due to silly privacy issues, but since mama is somewhat of a prude, I am sitting around in my sweatpants all day instead...and I'm only MOSTLY playing video games, although, really...I'm just fucking around on the computer as usual.

Oh, and...I'll probably do the dishes. But I most likely will order pizza for dinner tonight, but that's just because I forgot to soak the black beans. Silly me!

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What I have done on my vacation, parts one and two

December 27, 2006

I took a bunch of pictures of myself laughing:

AND, I took a bunch of pictures of birds and trees:

...more adventures to come!

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Weekend Recap

December 11, 2006

Last night was a nice conclusion to a good weekend, the highlights of which included:

A walk with my children to the neighborhood store to get cocoa. They were being all silly and weird and we laughed and laughed.
KICKING MONK'S ASS at Lord of the Rings Monopoly
Watching Scooby Doo with Coley-Pie (I find it so odd that he totally digs Scooby Doo. He even laughs hysterically at all of the bad jokes. Do other 6-year olds like this show as much?)
Monk getting all nerdcited over Return of the King
A very good meeting at work. Fuck do I ever love my job.
Birds galore in the sky, on telephone wires, doing their little practice flights in formation everywhere.
Hanging with Pansy afterwards, laughing about silly rituals, boys, craziness, and how life is short, so whatever the fuck makes you happy, right?
Two wonderful late night walks
A new scented candle that smells like spruce. It's a soy candle, so it burns subtle and smoooth and aromafies the whole room.
Homemade Mac & Cheese for dinner. Only I wopified it and made it ziti and cheese.
J brought wine and I got tipsy.
Reading the new King Cat out loud to J while coley and Monk played video games. Damn do I ever love John Porcellino. He makes me want to write and create things. I know a few comics skeptics who are going to be getting subscriptions to King Cat as a gift this year.
The little dance Coley does when he's doing something exciting in his game. He likes to play Contraptions and Lode Runner, only he doesn't actually play the games, he just builds contraptions and mazes and gets totally TOTALLY excited about them.
Silly flirting all night. Somehow having the kids present while we flirt makes things more fun and challenging. hahaha. (Can I borrow you in the other room for a minute?) Maybe it is the opposite of having your parents around, but somehow the same, too?
Causing homework procrastination for some sexy candlelit grown up time after the kids went to bed. mwahahahahaha.
Absolute love and adoration for life and everything/everyone in it.
Oh, and playing the Sims, too.

Life is grand. How was your weekend?

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Trees

December 6, 2006

Driving to work yesterday, I was noticing trees. One, in particular...a lone tree in front of an auto shop on Airport - near the mall. The wind was blowing, and it was shimmering. The leaves, still green, flapping and clinging for dear life to branches swaying connected to the trunk. The trunk that stood, steadfast, supporting and absorbing all of the movement of its connected limbs.

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I have the sexiest accent ever!

December 4, 2006

Well, not really. I mean, it's sexy on boys, that's for sure. Yum! Boys with Chicago accents and chain wallets! That's almost as sexy as boys with houndstooth caps and dark blue mechanic's shirts.

What American accent do you have? Your Result: The Inland North You may think you speak "Standard English straight out of the dictionary" but when you step away from the Great Lakes you get asked annoying questions like "Are you from Wisconsin?" or "Are you from Chicago?" Chances are you call carbonated drinks "pop."
The Midland
The Northeast
Philadelphia
The South
The West
Boston
North Central
What American accent do you have? Take More Quizzes

Oh, and...I call them soda pops and/or sodey pops, depending on how feisty I am feeling. But that's just because I was influenced at an impressionable age by a friend from the east coast. I spent much of my childhood/teenage years ordering a "big pop" as my beverage. hahaha.

[link via Pinko Feminist Hellcat]

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Squinting.

December 3, 2006

This afternoon, I left the house without my sunglasses on because it was such a grey-sky day and so late in the afternoon that I didn't think I would need them. However, waiting in the parking lot for my passenger to arrive, suddenly the sun burst out from behind the clouds, and the drab, colorless day became blinding. Such a drastic change so quickly. I found myself, squinting, thinking how glad I was that I left my sunglasses behind.

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The Dude Abides

December 3, 2006

I am having a very, very lazy day. All I want to do is lay around in love with life and everything in it. I am sleepy and feeling unproductive in a good way. Glad that I was so productive yesterday.

Anyway, it is the time of year for reflection (like, what time of the year ISN'T, really?) so I am glad that I saw The Big Lebowski last night. I love how the dude just goes with the flow and ends up pretty much where he started out, only with a significant number of experiences under his belt. I love how he manages to be himself in all situations, and really just rolls with it. Hahaha. I know it's not supposed to be an uber deep movie, but it has a lot of lessons in it, nonetheless. Plus it is always nice to laugh and laugh and laugh, especially in the company of someone so dear.

It was a good night in the midst of a good life rolling straightaway into a good lazy new day and what promises to be a good week. Goodness, like the dude, abides. I am glad to be alive.

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Life and such

November 28, 2006

Life and stuff
We have a houseguest today. A small, 6 year old houseguest, who is here while his mother has something taken care of. It's a traumatic day, and he is oblivious, which is a Good Thing. He and Coley are in the living room calling dibs on everything. Monk is reading. I am drinking coffee. It's going to take a bit to get me going this morning. I convinced myself to go on a walk late last night, after having spent much of the evening trying to talk myself out of it. I'm glad I walked, but I always pay for it in the morning in tiredness.

Saturday is Monk's birthday. He will be 10. I have a child who is double digits. Or will be. I am old. Old. Old. Old.

The Thanksgiving weekend was good for me. I had a lot on my mind. I thought over a lot of stuff and came to a lot of conclusions about my life. Mainly about the way I spend my time. I lack motivation in some areas that I need to work harder on. If I can be vague and specific at the same time. I spent the entire weekend shirking all social obligations and just hanging out with me and the kids, and it was wonderful. They are great kids. They are enough. I have to remind myself of that. Anything else is Extra. It might not be what I had ever imagined my ideal family to be, but three IS a magic number.

Like I said, I need to remind myself of that. Over and over again. Especially in the midst of a season in which the warmth and idealism of a two-adult family (with or without kids) is shoved down my throat at every turn. I swear I am going to have to avoid television, because if I see one more commercial about how I am worthless unless some man is buying me a car or a diamond ring, I am going to freaking vomit. And the worst part is that it makes me feel worthless in spite of myself. I don't even LIKE freaking diamonds. I would have to give someone a long, hard look (and not in a good way) if they ever gave me a diamond ring. But, you know, this shit is insidious. Hahaha.

At any rate, other than feeling like I am washed up and worthless in the romance department, I am doing great. hahaha. I have, you know, invented my very own holiday to avoid dealing with all of the christmas crap. The kids are not going to be with me for the solstice this year, so I'm thinking about just hanging out by myself or with one other person and staying up all night making art. I might even buy myself that huge canvas I have been promising myself so I can take a stab at painting. I want to create something big. Perhaps mixed media. I don't know. I want it to remind me of all of the beautiful things I harbor and nurture and never let die.

Anyway, yeah. Monk will be 10. The tenth anniversary of Monk's birth. It is difficult to believe. Wow.

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Peripheral people

November 20, 2006

I got to thinking this weekend about all of those people who are on the periphery of my life. In all of our lives. The woman at Tamale House, for instance, who knows me by my name and weekly order. The waiter at Kim Phung who always smiles and says hello. The guys who run the convenience store down the street. Our letter carrier. People I see on a regular basis, some of whom I have known in this way for years, but who aren't really part of my life. They know some of my intimate details, like my eating, drinking, and bill-paying habits...but I know nothing about them.

Plus, there is this element of time. Some of these peripheral people in my life have been there on the sidelines for years and years. I first went to Tamale house the weekend after I moved to Austin in March of '92, for instance, and the woman who works there and knows my order by heart (and always gives me whole wheat tortillas, even when I neglect to ask for them) has witnessed almost all of my life changes - all of my boyfriends, both of my pregnancies, the growth of my children...all of it. She has been there through it all, saying hello and making very casual conversation.

It's an interesting concept to me, and I wonder in whose life I am one of these peripheral characters. I wonder, too, what would happen if one of these people broke through the periphery and entered my day-to-day existence. What secrets would they share? What are their lives like? What do they order for breakfast?

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Writer's Block

November 15, 2006

I am having trouble sleeping, which is rare for me. I am just laying here thinking about writer's block, which I am evidently suffering from.

Every night when I take my walk, I think of a million things to write about. But for some reason, I don't write any of it down. There are a couple of possible reasons for this. One is plain old laziness. I mean, I am working on something that I want to post on my last.fm page about the Jesus and Mary Chain...and I have some ideas for the project I am working on - both writing and artwork, but there is almost so much to write that it is daunting. I lack stamina, and I lack sufficient time to just sit and let it flow. I am hoping my upcoming looser work schedule next week will help with that.

But there is also this general idea that I have lately...kind of an idea that I have had for the past 6 months or so...that none of it really matters. This is kind of odd coming from me, as I have always been a firm believer in the spirit of "everything matters"ness. But when I think about the shit I want to write about...the current events politics have been done to death, and my personal politics are at the moment a little too personal and probably too confusing for me to try to sort through in public. This pretty much leaves me with the option of writing about memories (which I normally can do with zeal, but...lately? Meh.) or writing about my zany ideologies.

I am trying to convince myself that my sudden silence is a form of gearing up for something big. But who the fuck knows. I think, too, as far as my private journal goes, I got so tired of hashing and rehashing my thoughts and feelings about certain situations in my life that I just can't even pick up a pen anymore without wanting to throw it and my notebook, along with everyone involved in all of my life's tiny miserys, right out the fucking window.

So, who knows. I guess I did manage to write for 10 minutes or so about how I have nothing to write about. I hope that, at least, was somewhat entertaining to anyone who happens to read this. I now have a splitting headache and a sore throat and I really think it is time for me to give this whole sleep thing another chance.

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Inclusion

November 13, 2006

I am trying to go back to church. Not CHURCH church, as anyone who actually reads this blog knows I am a shameless heathen, but the UU church, where they accept my skeptical-optimistic ass down to the last dimple. Although, I don't know. The interim minister dude they have there mentions the G word way more than I can bear.

Which is why I found myself in Coley's* classroom yesterday, sitting on a tiny chair while he steadfastly refused to participate. First, he refused to color, then he refused to sit in the circle and share a story about his week, then he refused to watch the PUPPET SHOW (a puppet show that was, ironically, a native american tale about humility and gratitude. Then he got to play on the playground, which actually pleased his majesty. Then we went home.

In the past, when Coley has behaved this way, I have felt frustrated and victimized. Yes, victimized. In my frustrated mama brain, Sunday at church after a long weekend of having the kids with me nonstop is a time to recharge and not deal with the constant petty arguing. Coley's refusal to participate forces me to focus on him and his consistent refusal to go with the flow, and interrupts my hour of sitting idle that I have come to enjoy. Yesterday, however, since I really can't stand the interim preacher anyway, I simply stuck with Cole and observed, along with the R.E. teacher. And towards the end of the hour, to prove that he was listening even though he had spent the entire puppet show scribbling on a piece of paper with maker, he actually contributed something to the discussion. They had been talking about humility and gratitude as it relates to providing for those less fortunate. The instructor was moving the conversation towards a project where the uu youngsters are going to gather goods for the homeless, so she was talking about the things someone might need if they didn't have a home. The children were all interjecting items we could provide to keep people who didn't have shelter warm in the winter. "Boots!" "Gloves!" "Blankets!" and Coley, calmly scribbling away, pretending not to listen or care, said "A home!"

Hey, it wasn't universal health care, but I was proud of his little logician's brain in his little artist's body.

It occurred to me then, and double occurs to me now that Coley is not the only reason I have had a difficult time connecting with people at that church. I think it's the same reason I have trouble connecting with people in general as I get older. Mostly it is about me. I mean, it is not like people intentionally make me feel excluded. But I get tired of the attitude among the people I hang out with of "the poor" as this other entity that we must reach out to and provide goods to. Not because I am necessarily one of "the poor" - although in most situations I find myself in, I am probably less wealthy than 90% of the people in the room, but because it just feels odd and awkward. And it's not just about finances. In the last week, I have felt othered based on age, education, and marital status, as well.

I admit that I am generally an overly-sensitive sap about these things, but it does get tiring, regardless.

However, being of a solutions-oriented, generally optimistic mindset, I learned a lesson yesterday. In fact, I learned more from the story about humility and gratitude and from watching my kiddo otherize himself than I would have ever learned from the loathed interim minister. I figured out that, duh, I only get what I put in. In all of those conversations during the week where I felt as if my experience was being excluded, at LEAST the exclusion wasn't hostile or aggressive. AT LEAST I have the option to give voice to my experience without fearing further alienation. In choosing not to, I am being like my son - standing on the outskirts with my arms crossed. However, I also need to be kind to myself - as I was with my son. Sometimes I just NEED to stand on the outskirts. Sometimes it is tiring to have to assert myself as the odd woman out (even if in so doing I frequently discover I am not the only odd woman out) and sometimes I need to allow myself the space to build up the energy to contribute my thoughts.

And, too...I can't just blame myself. How much responsibility does a community have to actively attempt to include people? Last night on my walk, in thinking of ways I can participate in the community, I thought maybe I should start a single mom's group. And then I laughed, because I thought "Why isn't there ALREADY a single mom's group there?" and quickly was overcome with the prospect of having to organize ANYTHING in the midst of my chaotic, disorganized swirl of a life. So, how much of that is the church's responsibility? Or the responsibility of any given community?

I am not sure. All I know is that I crave some sort of community in which I am not quite such a freaking oddball. Perhaps it is true that I will have to create it myself. I am not sure how I am going to find the time, but it is becoming increasingly more important as my life gets more and more stressful.

*As an aside, we stopped going to church due to Coley's antics during a lovely flower communion. Coley has...certain issues...that cause him to behave inappropriately at the least opportune times. He's actually quite a challenge. So it was that when I showed up in church yesterday, the director of the R.E. program squealed delightedly "Oh look! It's MONK!" and then her delight slowly diminished as she said "And...Monk's mom...and, um, Monk's brother." So, yeah...Monk is well-loved at church, even if his demon-spawn brother and his hapless mother is maybe not.

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Breathless

November 7, 2006

I love it when the sadness breaks and suddenly, oh man...what have I been missing out on for this past week and a half? Like the lines of the trees against moonlit sky and sounds of laughter and playing in the other room that makes spine tingle instead of hair raise and all the everything that exists in me and all the everything that exists outside of me and all of the little things that are beyond me and keep me moving and moving and moving forward and upward and onward.

Last night, I had a visitor. Briefly. It was the ex. He came to drop something off and chat for a bit. I love talking to him. He makes me smile and laugh, and he always has something interesting to say or to offer. He is beautiful, as always. I adore him. And yet...there is always that moment that happens in the midst of the joy that I feel in his presence where he admits to his unabating sadness. Where he lets it slip that he is never really happy. He feels no joy. Anhedonia sucks ass. I gave up a long time ago on the nagging suspicion that it was ME that made him feel that lack. Although there are times when my unabating joy seemed to make the abyss seem more pronounced - and there have been times when his unabating sorrow has dragged me in.

I wonder if there is a way to coexist with that. I don't know how he keeps on. I get to feeling the slightest bit of sadness for a week, and it tears my entire world apart. I twist in midair, attempting to right myself. I panic, feeling sure that this time I will hit the ground with my back down and shatter into a million pieces. I have been there - in that place where nothing feels good. I have set up camp there for months and years before. But I haven't done that for a long time, and I can't remember what it was like.

So, I am thankful. I am thankful that I am somehow miraculously able to twist and right myself. I am thankful for the knowledge that I do have everything I need. Right here. Me. I just need to remember that, and remind myself how to access it. I am thankful for my warm and giving heart, but moreso, I am thankful for my unending ability to receive.

And I am breathless in the face of the beauty of it all...Grinning madly.

"Breathless"
Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds

It's up in the morning and on the downs
Little white clouds like gambolling lambs
And I am breathless over you
And the red-breasted robin beats his wings
His throat it trembles when he sings
For he is helpless before you
The happy hooded bluebells bow
And bend their heads all a-down
Heavied by the early morning dew
At the whispering stream, at the bubbling brook
The fishes leap up to take a look
For they are breathless over you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your mind
Still your soul
For still, the fare of love is true
And I am breathless without you
The wind circles among the trees
And it bangs about the new-made leaves
For it is breathless without you
The fox chases the rabbit round
The rabbit hides beneath the ground
For he is defenceless without you
The sky of daytime dies away
And all the earthly things they stop to play
For we are all breathless without you
I listen to my juddering bones
The blood in my veins and the wind in my lungs
And I am breathless without you
Still your hands
And still your heart
For still your face comes shining through
And all the morning glows anew
Still your soul
Still your mind
Still, the fire of love is true
And I am breathless without you

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Flickr Foto Friday: Version Halloween and Birthday

November 3, 2006

Halloween and Cole's birthday party photos are up at flickr! Enjoy!

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We are all bound by the limitations of others.

October 26, 2006

I never had a curfew when I was living with my mom. I sometimes wonder whether my mom was that invested in my freedom, or whether she was just plain brilliant. She must have known, on some level, that my friends all had curfews, and therefore I would always be home at a decent hour by default.

An email from a friend has me thinking about the fact that freedom is relative to the people you relate to. We are all bound by the limitations of others we care about. Those who want to cast anarchism as a selfish, amoral, unethical system of beliefs don't get that love exists in anarchy, and in love we make adjustments for other people, even if it means compromising freedom. We all make these choices every day. It is in working together with love and compassion that we all progress towards true liberation.

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Off the Docket

October 9, 2006

This morning found me at the county courthouse trying to take care of a legal issue that has been dragging me down on and off for a year now. It's nothing major - just a stupid financial thingy. One of the many fallouts from the divorce. I keep thinking that once I get this matter settled for once and for all, I will finally be rid of all of the extraneous leftover marital bullshit. At least the external stuff.

Funny, then, that even though I had months to prepare for this court hearing...and even though I suffered through my vacation, thinking the court date was LAST Monday and that I was just not emotionally capable of dealing with preparing for and going to court by myself...I found myself in a panicked frenzy last night, pulling documentation together to prove my case and imploring random strangers on various websites for advice and information.

Only to find when I arrived at court today that I am not on the docket. The opposing attorney postponed the hearing because they felt they didn't give me adequate notice. I am going to take this as a sign that they know they don't really have a case against me and actually act accordingly, rather than postponing my action until the last minute yet again.

It occurs to me that much of the stress in my life is generated through my insistence upon procrastination, and my refusal to face things head on. Of course, I came to this conclusion when this whole thing started a year ago, and I still didn't learn my lesson, but perhaps this time I will. Hahaha. I am procrastinating having to deal with my issues of procrastination!

And as much as I like to think that this tendency to procrastinate is limited to my external circumstances, I am starting to think that I am procrastinating dealing with some emotional fallout from the divorce, as well. I realized last week that I am spending a lot of time finding ways to distract myself and get out of my head and heart rather than face head-on the significant emotional baggage I am carrying as a result of the divorce and the three years or so of hell that led up to the divorce. Things bubble up, and I find a way to put a cap on it. Like I said...optimism is good thing, but there is a fine line between optimism and avoidance.

That said, I need to reform my rhythm with an emphasis on emotional honesty. Part of my healing process involved sharing my struggles openly in a public space. I think that was a healthy thing for me to do...and I think I need to get back in the habit of doing it. I have always believed that, insignificant though my life maybe be in the grand scheme of things, the more we share, the easier it becomes.

In fact, I proved that theory just last night when I revealed to my friend H the cause of my jitteriness and he confessed some similar concerns of his own. The healing is in the sharing. Both the giving and the receiving of it. It's not the easiest thing in the world to do, but damnit, it has value. I have value. You have value. And it is about time that we all testify.

ha! Can I get a witness?

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Butterflies, or On Optimism.

October 8, 2006

I can tell it's the Monarch Migration season, because those fuckers are all over the place. I thought I was seeing things for awhile today...and then I thought maybe I was just seeing leaves blowing up all over the place, but I realized there is no wind and I am not hallucinating. Those little leaflike things have wings, and they are frantically beating their way across intersections and over fields. Those that make it.

Before today, I had never really considered the difficulty butterflies have in urban situations. When I think of butterflies, I think of flitting critters in gardens and across meadows. Once those babies hit the open highway, though, it doesn't take much for their precarious aerodynamics to be overpowered by the downsuck of passing automobiles. And it's weird that I have never really considered this, because we have studied monarch migration before - in both spring and fall. I always got the wonder and beauty of nature, but never the grit and tenacity. And, yeah, maybe it is strictly hard-wired behavior, but that hard-wiring had to evolve from somewhere, right? Some biological urgency created the biological need for such single-mindedness. I think it counts. I think that butterflies are optimistic.

I sent an email to a friend yesterday attempting to explain my state of mind of late. I mentioned something about how I am generally optimistic and yet sometimes the...facade (and here I mentioned facade was the wrong metaphor but I also mentioned I am a hack and could think of none better) peels away and reveals utter hopelessness. Well, maybe I am not such a hack, because today it occured to me that it is not a facade. That my joy and optimism are sincere, but they are also focused, and it is when I am forced to pan out that it can start to appear that my focus is a tiny little oasis of green in the midst of some pretty fucking grim panorama.

Of course, if I were to pan out more, I might see other oases that are equally seemingly isolated - yet connected somehow.

Ultimately, it is my choice what I focus on and how far in or out I zoom. Optimism is important, but it is also important to look up and note the lay of the land every once in awhile - and to fully understand my place in it. When I do this, I am like those millions of monarchs struggling against the downdraft of vehicles whizzing by, trying to keep myself from splattering on a windshield or being sucked into an exhaust pipe. In other words, it's hard freaking work. I need to recognize that, reward myself, and give myself the space I need to regain my energy and strength and flutter off again in that seemingly haphazard yet absolutely methodical way that butterflies make their journey.

Posted at 4:40 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Alignment

October 1, 2006

All I am saying is that when I have to choose between my head and my heart, and I choose my heart, thereby forcing my head to realign, I am almost never disappointed. When I give someone a chance to be as beautiful as I think they are, without interfering with unrealistic expectations and doubt...I am almost never disappointed.

The challenge lies in keeping my head straight and my expectations realistic. Once I master that shit, I'll be golden, baby!

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Stuff.

September 29, 2006

I have not really had anything to write about for at least 3 months - at least not publically. I was thinking for awhile that I was maybe stagnating, and that a situation in my life had become too distracting and was devouring too much of my energy.

But last night I came to a realization that the situation in question is not doing either of those things. Instead, I think it is slowly causing me to focus, and the energy that it has been devouring is going to return in a different form. I am not really able to write about the situation because it's too complicated and it involves more than just me...and also because there really aren't words to describe it. I am writing about it in my private journal, but those entries are haphazard and in a language few would really understand.

I am figuring things out. What I am made of, what is important to me...what I am worth, and what is worthy of me. I have to admit that I have spent much of the past month or so in a state of occasional misery, but I am feeling great now. Strong. Unstoppable.

I don't know if that means I will start writing again. I hope it does. I miss writing publicly every day, but I still have some more stuff to figure out - not the least of which is the rearrangement of my time to allow for more writing.

There are a jumble of topics in my head right now that want to be written about but aren't fully formed. I will get to them, eventually. In the meantime, I will still be posting periodic little updates and news items and whatever else I can find to fill in the gaps.

I wish you well...

livelifelove
Lainie

Posted at 8:20 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Balance

September 24, 2006

Yesterday marked the autumnal equinox, which means there is, at the very least, one thing in the world that is somewhat balanced. It also prompts me to examine and work towards eliminating the accumulated detritus of imbalance in my life.

There is a relationship in my life right now that is absolutely imbalanced. I am eyeing it closely, trying to figure out whether it is worth trying to bring it into alignment, or whether to work towards ridding myself of it completely. Either option will require work...and it is difficult to say which will require more work. I guess the difference is the former requires work of myself and the other person, and the latter puts all of the responsibility for the work squarely on my shoulders.

I hate that people can be so wonderful and yet present so many barriers to enjoy that wonder. And I hate that I can't be more fucking mercenary when it comes to decisions like this. It also bothers me that in the past when I have attempted to resolve these issues, I end up being the one that compromises my comfort for the comfort of the other person. I allow myself to be convinced that what I am asking for is impossible and therefore I must swallow my dissatisfaction and accept what I am given. To a certain extent, this is ok -- to the extent that the other person might also be challenged to grow and accept and accommodate. But there are times when I give in too easily and feel that I am doing all of the accommodating. I believe this is my fault, but the choice to abandon the relationship completely is also mine to make, so there is that out. Every time I make that choice...it feels almost instantly wrong, and I set about seeing what I can do to make things right.

Imbalance.

The larger issue here, though, is what I am losing in the meantime. The constant energy that is absorbed in attempting to correct the imbalance impacts everything else in my life, and knocks even the relatively harmonious aspects of my life into a state of chaotic disarray, and not in a good way.

So, blah. I feel like I lose either way. If I give up, I lose the wonderful things about this relationship that have made it worth fighting for. Anyone who knows me knows that I am a fighter, and I hate feeling like I have given up on something or someone too easily. However, if I hang in, I risk knocking my entire little universe even more off-kilter than I already have. Although I do enjoy drama and chaos more than the average person, I am really craving a tiny little oasis of peace in the midst of all of this. It is not something I can even ask for advice about, because the only person who truly knows the right choice is me...and I'm too dizzy to make up my mind right now.

Perhaps if I step off the ride for a bit and clear my head, I will be able to make a wise decision. Perhaps I am getting some enjoyment from the ride itself, and the prospect of stepping off is simply not appealing to me.

Hahahaha.

Ah. I am a mess. Let's just hope the equal balance of day and night will somehow inspire me to come up with a solution I can feel satisfied with. Or perhaps the solution is to focus on bringing the rest of my life into balance and allow the messy disarray in this one relationship to exist as a reminder of the beauty, joy, tragedy, and sadness of life itself. In other words, to not let me forget that in the end, I really don't know anything, and I can't control everything. And that is ok.

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When a matchbox is just TOO BIG

September 19, 2006

BBC NEWS | Technology | Projector size of sugar cube made

A video projector that is the size of a sugar cube has been created by researchers.

I am posting this because I have to lug projectors around on occasion, and the idea of a projector the size of a sugarcube is quite appealing to me, however...

Other laser-based video projectors have been created, but have been limited to the size of a matchbox.

...have we really become such anti-size queens that a matchbox is JUST TOO BIG?

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Love

September 13, 2006

The boys have been up since negative o'clock thirty this morning. They brought me toasted freezer waffles with raspberries and a cup of orange juice for breakfast before the sun even came up, and they have been up running around, screaming, giggling, playing, and causing general havok ever since. How on earth am I supposed to be cranky and exasperated with them when they brought me breakfast in bed?

I have been thinking about love. Not this love that causes me to refrain from murderlizing my waking-me-up-at-negative-o'clock-thirty children because they are sweet and silly, but romantic love. I am craving something epic. Something sweet. I am wanting the kind of love that causes me to write silly love screeds and have them returned. I am desiring the kind of love that involves toe curling cuddlishness and maybe even cut flowers. I am considering the kind of love that involves waking up in the middle of the night to watch someone sleep, even if they snore and drool. I am wishing for the kind of love that shares responsibility as well as encouraging wreckless abandon. You know? THAT kind of love. The kind I usually give...only, like, mutual.

It is all the fortune cookie's fault. I took myself out for Chinese buffet yesterday, and my fortune said that soon I would have a great deal of love in my life, and that I will be blessed. I snorted, and my mind snapped to its usual defensive state of "I am already blessed! Stupid fortune cookie!" but then I thought...um, no. There are certain areas in which I am decidedly not blessed. I keep seeing people around me in snuggly smile-when-you-talk-about-the-other-person love, and I am ENVIOUS, not blessed. hahaha. I mean, oh yes...am I ever blessed with love in some regards. I certainly can't complain. But I have an ache. And when I get to aching...watch it the fuck out!

So, when my peaceful sleep was interrupted by my squealing children this morning, I started thinking about it again. Thinking about my mom, and how she never seemed to have any love in her life after she divorced my dad. About how she gave up on love. How tempting it has been for me to give up on love, or settle for people I love, but who don't really love me back in the way I need to be loved. But I look at these children, and think about how nice it would be for them to witness the kind of love that I am craving. And I know it is not something that can be forced or demanded...but yeah. I can desire it. Ain't nothing wrong with good old fashioned desire. And so, that's just what I will do. I will sit here and desire a big, old, sappy, keep-me-warm-when-it-gets-cold love affair. Certainly if I wander around with this forlorn look in my eyes for any length of time, some fellow sap will snatch me up. Right?

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Believe the Hype

September 6, 2006

Pretty much I am just popping in to say that all of the good things you have heard about _Little Miss Sunshine_ are all TRUE. It is flawless. As a person who fancies myself a writer, I was amazed at the integrity of the characters and the plot and all of the settings. Everything seemed plausible, even the ridiculous implausibility of it...like those times in our lives when we take a moment to pause and think "Holy fucking shit! This is unbelievable! If this was a movie, no one would believe this shit!"...THAT kind of plausibility.

I loved that all of the characters were so well-rounded and human, and the realness of how the humanity of some of the characters was buried under a totally transparent film of attempted cynicism, or over-optimism. It seems like the only two characters who were unafraid to be fully human and expressive were the mom and Little Miss Sunshine herself. But we weren't forced to look at the other characters in a less favorable light because of this, we just accepted them for who they were...loved them, even - perhaps more than the others - for their fragility that caused them to nurture that film of cynicism in the first place.

Truly it is a beautiful film. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend it. I laughed. I cried. I laughed a fuck of a lot more. And I left the theater filled with an appreciation for all of the beautiful perfectly fucked up and wonderful people in my life.

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Is this thing on?

August 31, 2006

Today, for the first time in a long time, I was able to drive around with the windows rolled up in my car (no A/C) without sweating profusely. Previously, with the windows down and sitting still, I would have arm sweat. ARM SWEAT! What is up with that?

At any rate, I just came home from a nice walk, and while I am sweating a bit, I am not uncomfortably drenched. It was a nice walk. It is nice to know that summer is almost behind us. I fucking hate summer. I am sorry. I do.

Even the boys are noticing. They are wanting morning and evening walks to resume where we left off with them several months ago. Soon, we will spend a lot of our time outside instead of lolling about the house. Perhaps it will save me from the carpal tunnel syndrome I am developing due to day-long chat sessions with random individuals. Not that there's anything wrong with that, but mama needs her fix of less-harsh sunrays. I am actually pasty from summertime cabin fever. Or I would be if the sun didn't instantly fry my ass the minute I set foot out of the house.

It is almost time for flying kites in the school yard again. Perhaps some dodge ball, if I can find some willing children to play along. Maybe this year we will play basketball or tennis. I am feeling the urge to move around outdoors and be active. A fall garden, perhaps. I need to see if my black tarp fried out a nice patch of grass into a good little garden plot for me. I can plant lettuce and maybe a pumpkin or two.

Ah. Autumn is near. Maybe my brain will also reconstitute itself so I can return to blogging in complete and interesting sentences. Who knows? Maybe I will even be able to write about political things again without resorting to random pounding at the keyboard in absolute frustration.

I guess we will just have to wait and see. Today made anything seem possible.

Posted at 12:34 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Meme, adult style

August 22, 2006

via Goddess Musings

The "Older People" Survey (Meant to be completed by those ADULTS out of high school)

Tired of all of those surveys made up by high school kids?

'Have you ever kissed someone?'
'Missed someone?'
'Told someone you loved them?'
'Drank alcohol?'

Here are some questions for the people who are a little ... Okay,
okay... OLD FOLKS like us......

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?

Mortgage. Fucking fuckwads.

2. What's the best place to eat a romantic dinner?

My house.

3. Last time you puked from drinking?

Never (I thought this was the adult meme)

4. When is the last time you got drunk and danced on a bar?

Um. I have never been that drunk.

5. Name of your first grade teacher?

Damnit! I can't remember! Oh, yeah...Mrs. Foote.

6. What do you really want to be doing right now?

I can't think of anything I would rather be doing right now. And I do not even think that is pitiful.

7. What did you want to be when you were growing up?

A veterinarian, a world traveler, a writer.

8. How many colleges did you attend?

Zero. Well, community college. Does that even count? Also, the school of life.

9. Why did you wear the shirt that you have on right now?

It doesn't have sleeves.

10. GAS PRICES! First thought?

Panic. And I wish my life allowed for more use of public transportation.

11. If you could move anywhere and take someone with you...

Chicago.

12. First thought when the alarm went off this morning?

I don't need no steenking alarm.

13. Last thought before going to sleep last night?

I was thinking about work. Something I needed to do...and I thought about getting out of bed and jotting it down, but then I thought "Nah...I'll remember in the morning." And now I can't remember.

14. Favorite style of underwear?

Boy shorts.

15. Favorite style of underwear for the opposite/same sex?

Boxer Briefs.

16. What errand/chore do you despise?

Paying bills.

17. If you didn't have to work, would you volunteer at an art gallery?

Nah. I might volunteer doing advocacy work for children, though.

18. Get up early or sleep in?

Depends on my mood. I can go either way.

19. What is your favorite cartoon character?

It's not really a CARTOON, but that penguin character in The Wrong Trousers cracks me right up.

20. Favorite NON sexual thing to do at night with a girl/guy?

Listening to music

21. A secret that you wouldn't mind everyone knowing?
Um. Heh. I can't think of a one.

WHAT HAPPENED TO 22 and 23?

You couldn't think of enough questions? (Educand's comment...too perfect to delete.)

24. Your favorite lunch meat?
Well, I really like southern fried tofu from Wheatsville

25. What do you get every time you go into Costco?
I have never been in Costco

26. Beach or lake?
yes, please!

27. Do you think marriage is an outdated ritual that was invented by people who died at 20?

It is an outdated ritual, but sadly still somewhat necessary. More as a means of tactical/logistical support than anything having to do with love or romance. Blah.

28. Who do you stalk on MySpace?

Anyone I once knew.

29. Favorite guilty pleasure?
mindlessly clicking around on the internet, and having endless chat conversations

30. Favorite movie you wouldn't want anyone to find out about?
Um. I'm not proud. I love biker flicks.

31. What's your drink?
Pomegranate Italian Soda.

32. Cowboys or Indians?

Um, racist question! (stolen from Roni!)

33. Cops or Robbers?

Robin Hood (also stolen from Roni!)

34. Do you cheer for the bad guy?
If he's cute. Sure.

35. What Hollywood star do you think resembles you best?
hahahaha. hm. I wish I knew enough about Hollywood stars to say something clever and witty here. But, no.

36. If you had to pick one, which cast member of "Lost" would you be?
I have no clue. What is this "Lost" you speak of?

37. What do you want when you are sick?
My bed. With fresh sheets. And lavender. And for someone to whisk the chidren away.

38. Who from high school would you like to run into?
Jenny Almblad, Tom Prather

39. What radio station is your car radio tuned to right now?
NPR (KUT)

42. Norm or Cliff?
Woody.

43. The Cosby Show or the Simpsons?

Simpsons

44. Worst relationship mistake that you wish you could take back?

Hm. Getting involved with the asshole in the first place?

45. Do you like the person who sits directly across from you at work?

Nobody sits directly across from me at work.

46. If you could get away with it, who would you kill?

I can't even imagine someone I would kill...whether I would get away with it or not.

47. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?
Nick Cave

48. What famous person would you like to sleep with?
Er. Nick Cave? All of the members of The Dirty Three?

49. Have you ever had to use a fire extinguisher for its intended purpose?
No.

50. Last book you read for real?

Currently reading _Soledad Brother_

51. Do you have a teddy bear?
Just my kiddos.

52. Strangest place you have ever brushed your teeth?
I got nothing.

53. Somewhere in California you've never been and would like to go?
To see the Sequioas.

54. Number of texts in a day?
On average? None.

55. At this point in your life would you rather start a new career or relationship?
Relationship...but they are both pretty low on my list of priorities. I'm fairly happy with things as they are.

56. Do you go to church?
I would like to go back to the UU church, but my demon child bursts into flames when we enter the doors. hahahaha

57. Pencil or pen?
Pen. Well, it depends. If I am writing on a hard surface, I prefer pencil. Otherwise, pen. Sharpie marker!

58. bueller??? bueller??? bueller?

whatever

59. How many jobs have you had?
Lemme think...Market research, Kinko's, telemarketing, another copy place, Kinko's again (various positions held) my current job, some freelance design work, some freelance training work, some freelance curriculum design work. Let's call it 5-6 jobs.

60. What do you want to achieve in life?
Inner peace radiating outwards. Or, to quote cheesy punk rock lyrics from the 80's "Strive to survive causing the least suffering possible."

Posted at 9:08 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Kindness.

August 21, 2006

Last night on my walk, I managed to lose my phone. It must have fallen out of my pocket. I went back through my walking route in my car after I got home, and again first thing in the morning, but didn't see it anywhere.

I spent the morning and afternoon calling my cell phone from my home phone, hoping someone would answer it. Of course, I had left it on silent after returning home from my movie...

This afternoon, some guy called me to let me know he had my phone. I met up with him and reclaimed it and everything is kosher.

Yay. Problem solved. Thank you, kind stranger!!

Now, if only the other huge looming problem in my life could be dispatched as easily!

Posted at 4:32 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

I've kind of been on a frenzy...

August 19, 2006

So I am almost ashamed to respond toThis Meme:

List your last five purchases. Mine:

I bought Husker Du's Zen Arcade and The Smiths' Meat is Murder from (gulp) Best Buy. I had to! I had to buy those two cds, and I couldn't find them used and Best Buy had the Best Price by far!
I got some pizza from Aljohn's on my way home from work
I bought The Smiths' Louder Than Bombs at Encore on my way to work (I told you I have been on a frenzy! Why didn't you believe me?)
I bought The Smiths' Rank & Best Vol. 1, and The Pixies' Surfer Rosa from Cheapo Disks
I took the kids out bowling at Dart Bowl. Does that count as a purchase?

Thanks, Mr. Rowland, for exposing me as the shameless consumer that I am. I actually haven't bought so much STUFF in one weekend in a long time.

Um, I am going to tag...who? Who wants to play?

Posted at 6:57 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Heaven Knows I'm (not) Miserable Now

August 18, 2006

It is almost a pity. I can't seem to work up a long-lasting depression anymore. No matter what the circumstance, I just seem to bounce back. Like a flea. Or an over-inflated volleyball. Or something else that is bouncy backy. Clearly my inability to be depressed has interfered with my ability to write with any sort of metaphoric zeal.

So, in honor of my midlife uncrisis, I am going to take myself out this evening and indulge in some shopping reverse therapy by buying a bunch of Smiths CDs. Maybe if I confine myself to a darkened room for the weekend and let Morrissey's dulcet tones lull me into a stupor, I will be better able to muster some angst and sadness out of what proved to be an angstful and sad (but evidently not scarringly so) week. Or not. Maybe I will just sit and listen and reflect on the times in my life when I WAS depressed, and marvel at the fact that I just am not anymore. And thank Maude for Morrissey. And maybe even sing along.

HEAVEN KNOWS I'M MISERABLE NOW
The Smiths

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?

Two lovers entwined pass me by
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

I was looking for a job, and then I found a job
And heaven knows I'm miserable now

In my life
Oh, why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die ?

What she asked of me at the end of the day
Caligula would have blushed

"You've been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled

In my life
Why do I smile
At people who I'd much rather kick in the eye ?

I was happy in the haze of a drunken hour
But heaven knows I'm miserable now

"You've been in the house too long" she said
And I (naturally) fled

In my life
Why do I give valuable time
To people who don't care if I live or die?

Posted at 6:18 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

ass from head, extracted.

July 25, 2006

I am feeling markedly better now than I was when I wrote the last two posts. I am still coughing and sniffling, but I am not as stressed. I have found that little calm place in my being. That place of stillness where I rest. Hahahaha.

Actually, what happened is that just as I was feeling at my lowest on Sunday. You know, at that point where I started thinking "Damn. No one actually LIKES me. I have NO FRIENDS!" I got a call from a friend, and went out with him to see a cheesy-ass movie at Alamo Drafthouse. We shared a pizza, laughed a bit, talked excitedly about all manner of things. Got silly. And parted ways.

It is so good to be connected. And sometimes I get caught up in creating new connections, and I forget that I am already connected to some pretty wonderful people who make me feel good about myself without even trying. So often I go overboard on "making an effort" with people because, man, people fucking EXCITE me...and I get all arm-wavey and wanting to know every single last little thing and I get totally immersed and everything else in the world starts to get smaller and smaller and smaller until finally it all disappears, along with me, in the face of this fascinating new person I have discovered. I need to quit that. Ha! I haven't figured out how in all of my years on this planet. One day, I will figure it out, and I will be able to flit from person to person and discover things little by little by little instead of eternally pushing for everythingallatonce.

So, yes. My head is now free of ass, and vice versa. And although things are still hectic (why, just a moment ago I had to think. Hard. about where on earth my children are at this moment.) I am moving forward. On the edge of my seat. Ish. Excited about life and all its joys and sorrows.

Yes. Oh, yes. Oh freaking yes.

Posted at 7:46 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

I am not a mess. I am just messy.

July 23, 2006

So, basically, my feelings of ookiness over the past week or so finally culminated in an explosion of Lainie messiness this weekend. I am all over the place. Lashing out. Also, I am sick. And tired. And depressed. And wanting out of everything.

I know, logically, that this is temporary. That I will come through. But in the meantime, irrational thoughts rule my day. You know, the old "everyone hates me...my life is a mess...the world is going to shit...BLAH!" stuff.

And, talking to my mom today, I realized just how deeply ingrained it is for me to internalize it all. To hide and not speak. To slap on that happy face and pretend that everything is groovy. Because somehow even though I have total and complete empathy for all of my friends who get depressed, I am ABOVE THAT. How fucking snooty of me! I just started reeling off this laundry list of Shit That Is Going Wrong in my life, and I don't even know how many times I stopped to apologize, and my mom finally just said "Look, everyone has days where everything seems to be going to shit!" I was like "Well, it's been a whole week...a MONTH...for me." She said "Well, ok then! A month! there are twelve of those, you know."

My mom is a wise woman. heh. It's not like I was miraculously cured when I got off of the phone with her, but I did feel more hope. There are lots of reasons for my life to feel shitty right now. Most of them are totally outside of my power to control, and I just have to deal. Some of them are within my control. Some of them aren't even reasons to be depressed, but they are easy to blame for my depression because everyone else in my life seems to think they are recipes for disaster.

So, I will start from the beginning. I put forth an effort to make amends with someone I felt like I wasn't fair to last night, but I can't wait around for the response to that. I am going to spend the day cleaning, resting, reading, taking care of myself (I am still sick from this cold I caught Tuesday. Monk got over the same cold in two days, but since I am not taking care of myself, this fucker has dragged on for 5 days now) balancing the budget, writing. Doing things that make me feel GOOD about myself. Planning something for the near future...a retreat or something. Writing off those things I can't control, and writing about those things that I can.

It has been a long time since I have felt truly depressed. I need to look at that as a good thing, rather than beating myself up over the fact that I am feeling down in the first place. I made this mess, and I am going to clean it up. And hopefully, when all is said and done, I can snuggle up with someone sweet and just rest to the sound of another person's beating heart.

My grateful 5 for today:

Michael Franti, particularly "Love Invincible"
Monk's get well card to me last week "Get better, or ELSE! <3 Monk"
Getting complimented by a stranger for the good behavior of the boys at a restaurant we went to on Friday
Finally taking care of Monk's teeth
A clean kitchen floor and champa incense
A sweet, yet bewildered man I know <3<3<3
My mom
Having more than 5 things to be grateful for, even when I am feeling crappy
Plowing forward.

Onward!

Love Invincible Michael Franti And Spearhead lyrics
Artist: Michael Franti And Spearhead
Album: Everyone Deserves Music
Year: 2003
Title: Love Invincible

When I fall down, I need a helping hand.
And when I lose my head, it's cause it's buried in the sand.
When I get stuck on myself, feelin' sorry for myself.
Will you help me grab a hold and please don't patrionize my soul.
When I start to lose control, when I get irrational, when I start to get too high,
you see me come floating by, I say

Touch me in the morning sun, when I feel impossible.
show me what is possible. Teach me love invincible
Touch me in the morning sun, when I feel impossible.
show me what is possible. Teach me love invincible

When your down, you need a helping hand.
And when you lose your head, I'll help you wash away the sand.
And when you get stuck on yourself, feelin' sorry for yourself.
I will help you grab a hold and I won't patrionize your soul.
When you start to lose control, when you get irrational, when you start to get too high,
I see you come floating by, I say

Teach me love invincible, Teach me love invincible

When we're down, we need a helping hand.
And when we lose our heads, it's cause they're always buried in the sand.
But when we get stuck on our selves, feelin' sorry for our selves.
Will you help us grab a hold and please don't patrionize our souls.
When we start to lose control, when we get irrational, when we start to get too high,
You see us come floating by, I say,

Touch us in the morning sun, when we feel impossible.
show us what is possible. Teach us love invincible
Touch us in the morning sun, when we feel impossible.
show us what is possible. Teach us love invincible

Teach us love invincible, hold us love invincible, share us love invincible,
be us love invincible, help us love invincible, touch us love invincible,
breathe us love invincible, sing it love invincible.

Love invincible. Love invincible. Love invincible.
Love is invincible.

Posted at 11:48 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Decluttering

July 11, 2006

You know...I feel oddly, um, liberated by the loss of my hard drive. It inspires me to start fresh. And I realize that it is the same thing, in a way, as my last post. It's not just about losing people and making room for other people...it's about losing [whatever] and making room for [different whatever]. Or losing people or [whatever] and allowing for more breathing room.

Either way, I am noticing a theme, and I am thinking it would be wise for me to heed the signs and start considering what I have in my life that is excess and interfering with my enjoyment of what I want, or keeping me from obtaining what I want. It's not necessarily about getting rid of stuff, it is about making room.

Posted at 12:55 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Independence Day

July 4, 2006

For the first time since they returned from their 3-week stint with dad, coley is playing by himself in the other room. His separation anxiety has been causing him to linger at my side and, if forced, directly outside of the door of my room. And sometimes it has been necessary to force him from my side so I can accomplish a task or complete a thought that can't be accomplished or completed with a 5-year old tumor at my left elbow.

This is not the sole reason for my absence, but it is one of them. The kids are doing well. I think it was hard for them. Not necessarily because of where they were but because of the length of time and the fact that it was their first time away for so long. Coley, especially. My little mama's boy.

The other reasons for my absence are more about my insatiable lust for human contact and the getting-to-know you phase of that contact. I am immersed in a soul so convoluted and beautiful it is like an all-day acid trip. Still, it remains undefined. Indefinable. Indefatigable. And the rest of my life and relationships continue on around this little bubble of something that has arisen out of nowhere, which makes it all the more surreal.

I am finding, in this relationship, that it is absolutely necessary for me to believe that I am kind and good. To trust that I am not and never have been intentionally cruel. Well, rarely anyway. And to also believe in the gentleness of the soul I am witnessing. It is an amazing journey. I am enjoying it wholeheartedly. Tongue-lollingly. Open-souled/close-eyed. Fucking beautiful.

And I am feeling the need to rein in some of this chaos I have created in my home. To organize. It is one thing to experience the joy of random anarchic encounters with fellow humans, it is another to have disorganized clutter everywhere in my surroundings. I have a lot to do. Writing is happening, ideas. I can't waste time cleaning up after myself because a pile of something was knocked over by mistake. I crave sparse surroundings as the everything within me greens and lushens up.

Lushens. Ha.

In other more mundane news - my hard drive failed on my desktop computer yesterday. Not only that, but my back-up drive, on which I had stored all of my backed up files, also refuses to work. I am hoping I can retrieve the data somehow, and I had been planning to buy a new hard drive anyway, but it is a pain in the ass. I am not going to really panic about it now except to mourn a bit for lost bits and bytes and 3 or so months of my freeform writing exercises. Thank Maude I have also been writing in my paper journal over that time, so I have at least captured the essence if not the precise words in both places.

Also, though, all of my music! Gone! Except for what I have managed to save here and there on disk.

Again, I am hoping it can be retrieved. We shall see. I shall reserve fret for the moment someone says "irretrievable."

Is anyone still reading this? Give me a shout out!

Posted at 1:08 PM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

My suspicions have been confirmed. It IS all about the hair.

June 23, 2006

She was petting the neighbor's cat when I drove up. I got out of the car, and she waved, enthusiastically. I thought maybe there was something wrong with the cat, or that maybe she thought the cat was mine. She motioned for me to hang on a minute while she impatiently waited for a car to pass by and hurried across the street.

"Hi! You probably don't rembember me!" She said, with a Latina accent that I instantly recognized. We had had a long conversation in the park several years ago. I can't remember what it was about, but it was fun and arm-wavey and delightfully mundane. That much I do know. I thought she was kind of insane. We probably talked about the kids and neighborhood animals.

"Yes! I remember you!" I said.

She said "Oh, it is probably the accent. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that haircut REALLY works for you. It is fabulous! And, as a woman, I know how difficult this can be to find. But you should know that it looks REALLY good."

"Aw...thanks! Wow. Thanks a lot!"

"Well, I just thought you should know, because I know about these things, eh? And your CHILDREN! They are getting so BIG! But, anyway - yes...the haircut really works. And I know about these things, as a woman...It is more difficult to find a good haircut than it is to find a good GYNECOLOGIST!"

We both laughed and waved each other off and that. Was that.

Posted at 9:36 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

Single. Mother.

June 21, 2006

It has been a mellow day. I have taken the night off today to be with my kiddos for the longest night, and I am taking the night off tomorrow to be by myself and perhaps a nice boy for another solsticey celebration. Maybe.

It occurs to me that I suddenly have multiple boys in my life. Not all romantically oriented, either. This is odd for me. I think it is a function of fully gaining the outsider status of a divorcee - even if that status is all in my mind. I don't feel right around married mama friends. Not fully. The other day, on father's day, I forgot it was Father's day until I called one of my married mama friends. She said "Oh, yeah. Since you don't have a husband or really a father, it figures you would forget." I don't think she meant it to be as mean as it sounded. In fact, I am certain she didn't. And I wasn't really upset by it. But, still. Yeah. That pretty much pegs it.

Which might explain this sudden influx of boys in my life. They are single. I am single. That seems to be the predominant factor in forming "hangout" relationships. Availability. I am available. It is an interesting time in my life. I am enjoying my newly refound ability to be around boys, and enjoying my singledom also. I am having my cake and eating it, too. But I do kind of miss the mamas.

And, too, there is this idea that I fight against. Now that I have come to terms with being single and a parent, and being glad for it. For now. Like, to the point where when I hear of my friends talking about all of the little obligations that partnership entails I am not wistful for them but, ack! somewhat appalled by them. There is this idea, though, that I still fight against...the idea of this ideal family structure that I am expected to provide for my children. The structure that I know my children crave, but that I am, for now, unable to provide without doing some serious compromising - first, because there is really no one promising in my life right now to build that kind of structure with unless I force the issue (and I so do not want to try forcing that issue again. Ever.) And second, because really I am exploring this idea that perhaps there Might Never Be. And I am learning to not fear that for my children, just as I have learned to accept that I don't really fear that for myself. That I never really have needed a partner to feel fulfilled, and that it's not fair for anyone to find someone to merely fill a logistical/practical role in my life for the sake of my children. Even though a year ago or so, I truly thought it was perfectly fair. Now, the idea of living with someone who is practical but with whom I am not fully engaged with does not satisfy me or interest me in the least - even though I do occasionally long for...something. A break. Solace. Another pair of hands. Someone to change the damn lightbulb on the front porch. Damnit.

Perhaps it will happen one day that I will find someone who fulfills my romantic desires as well as those practical needs. In the meantime, I am happy with the way things are. I hope I can find a way to communicate this satisfaction...this JOY...with the children so they understand and do not feel a sense of longing for a fabricated structure that I am incapable and/or unwilling to provide. I have foundation here, and solid walls. And a roof over my head that does not leak. And, while it does feel precarious at times, and sometimes the doors stick or the hinges squeak, this house of mama love stands just fine on its own. Better than just fine. Fabulous.

Posted at 7:54 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

I am alive

June 16, 2006

And, I mean, like TOTALLY fucking alive. It has been a good three weeks in spite of the missing of the children. However, right now, I am feeling the same way I felt the night they left. I am weepy and empty and reuniting myself with that tender heartbreak that I have come to know as motherhood.

But my adventures have been wonderful and wild over the past three weeks. Too much to contain, too much to explain. And I am in a private mood, anyway. For once. I want to save things up and share them with a select few. Sometimes so select it is only one. I am inspired and firing and breathing and beaming and it is fucking awesome. I am also, it seems, having my cake and eating it too. And I am feeling deliciously vague about it.

The kids return on Monday. It will be a hard week...I can anticipate that at least. I have many things to integrate into my life. Some vital shifts will have to be made. Some of my recently acquired freedoms and the habits that have been borne of them will have to be abandoned until next my children are away. I need to take this weekend to embrace that.

Also, the solstice. The half way marker of the year. Where am I? Where did I want to be. I am writing religiously, which is good. And I am striking a balance between social activity and solitude. I am still working on financial stability. (speaking of which, I need to get my fucking tree trimmed before it rips all of the fucking shingles off of my fucking roof). New rhythms need to be established. New alliances formed.

Oh, my sweet coleybird calls me every day and mourns. He loves me he loves me he loves me he loves me is all I hear. He sings songs into the answering machine and exhales into the receiver, on the verge of tears. It is almost over, dear bird boy. And Monk...doesn't say much of anything. But I know he misses me, too.

And there is another boy. A man. And he is sweet and smartassy and soulmateish. I am not sure what to make of it. Of him. I regard him out of the corner of my eye. He refuses to be looked at head on. He is a slow-moving train, and I am standing on the tracks, waving my arms. Delighted with the onrush of wind. Anticipating collision.

And that's about all you are going to hear about that.

Posted at 8:49 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Extropic Art

June 12, 2006

I was noodling around looking for information on the ephemeralist art movement, and I found "We're not in Kansas Anymore":

One of the impatient ideas suffusing the EAM is that the artistâ€™s greatest work is his/her own being. An extropic artist is an "Automorph," a kind of continuous canvas in time, not only in the sense of "body art" but in a constant refinement of emotions and intellect. The way to make a perfect painting, suggests a passage in T minus, is to become a perfect person, and then simply paint. Automorphing picks up on the Extropian theme of transhuman becoming post-human. "How old are you?" they asked. "My intelligence augmentation is three years now, my right hip, five. Ocular implants, just two weeks, age reversal nearly nine." "How old are you?" they asked...just to realize before she left, She was not yet born (from the Automorpher, a performance piece by Natasha More). Though extropic art and automorphism may seem like symptoms of millennial hysteria to some, extropic writer and philosopher Reilly Jones finds its seeds in Renaissance humanistic ideals. He quotes Pico della Mirandola (1486) from "Oration on the Dignity of Man," "Adam, to the end that according to thy longing and according to thy judgment, thou mayest have and possess what abode, what form, and what functions thou thyself shalt desire...Thou, constrained by no limits, in accordance with thine own free will, in whose hand We have placed thee, shalt ordain for thyself the limits of thy nature." To Jones, the aim of self-transformation is to "structure an architecture for the soul."

I had never heard of this movement before, and while some of it sounds a bit kooky...it strikes me. I will have to read more about it.

I do think they have ephmeralism pegged wrong, though. My understanding of ephemeralist art is not deathist. To me, ephemeralism is about capturing a moment and letting it go. That is perfectly descriptive of life as I know it. Appreciating what is so as not to expend the possibility of what will be.

Posted at 10:44 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Shockingly Beautiful.

June 7, 2006

I love my friend John, and am so heartened by his continued presence in my life. What, has it been 20 years or so of frequently interrupted but still uninterruptible friendship? â€“ taxed by distances of geography, affinity, and occasionally ideology and still so strong.

I remember John driving me in his car in the city. Chicago. It was a sunny day, but winter, and I was wearing my cowely-necked poncho under my black capey thing, and I had the cowel pulled up over my eyes as he drove and was seeing the crisp world in this wonderfully vague and blocky way. I was pretending I was John, which is something I find myself doing often, and looking at the world as shapes and feelings rather than concrete objects. Photographer John. Always inspiring me to look at things in different ways.

And so it is that as I balance on this tilting bridge of love, arms akimbo, I look to John for another way of looking at this complicated emotional topography, lest I focus too closely and fall in a bad way. And John responds, as he always does, with wisdom and a surprisingly concentrated knowledge of Who I Am. And this makes me so happy I want to cry for my good fortune.

I think a lot about my fortunate relationships with people. My heart is open, and while good close proximity-wise friends seem sparse, I feel full with people past present and future who are truly wonderful and inspiring. It is amazing, actually, how wealthy I have been in terms of these relationships. It is how I know that I make good choices when sometimes circumstances might try to convince me otherwise. And some of these friendships have been hard-won and fought for. Even John has not existed in my life without a certain degree of challenge. And yet, when all is said and done, there he is. A flitting constant. Wonderful.

So, about this rickety bridge I am balancing on. I am sick to my stomach and on the verge of tears and absofuckinglutely loving every damn second of it. I am seeing things. Maybe not with a photographerâ€™s eye, but with some kind of vision that is not my typical vision. Today, driving home from work, I spied a tremendous flock of grackles in a tree outside of the mall. They all rose up at once, as if to fly off, but something stopped them and they all impossibly managed to roost in the same tree. I found it difficult to believe that one tree could contain them all without bursting. And that is how my heart feels right now. I am finding myself flying out, only to return and reroost, and each time gathering more and more until I am almost bursting with feathers, beaks, and talons. Yet, although the invisible net draws me back in and back in and back in, I miraculously find the strength to continue to attempt to burst forth and burst forth and burst forth until maybe one day I will break through the net in all of my bird-hearted joy. But for now I am managing, somehow, to refrain from unleashing completely. Gathering myself in this one small tree of me. Hopping from one branch to another. Chirping.

And I am thankful for the inadvertantish wisdom of Caution and Slowness. Me? Typically, I am impatient, needy, and weak. And that is OK, too. Because even though I am bursting, I can be contained. Barely, but it can be done.

My eyes crinkle at the corners as I regard this situation. External to me, I am viewing the geometry of my emotions. With my shirt pulled up over my eyes, I can see shapes and feelings â€“ abstractions rather than concrete desires. I am trying to look at the world with the photographerâ€™s eye, to escape my demanding for immediate action and be content with the back and forth motion of silence and stillness. I am thinking about Right Now. Every Right Now that passes. And though I want and I want and I want, I feelâ€¦satisfied with what I Have. Full and empty both. If I listen, I can hear the chatter of a thousand birds. If I listen closer, I can hear the silence in which that chatter echoes.

Posted at 12:18 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Update. Life. Complications.

June 5, 2006

I just got home from work to my emptyish house, and it feels so weird. I keep feeling like I am forgetting something. I guess the last few times the kids have been at their dad's for extended stays, I have had other people around. Now it is just me, and I feel very displaced.

I also am feeling oddly on top of things. I can go in to work and work 8 hours without having to worry that I am burdening someone else with my children. I can go out for a swim in the middle of the afternoon without having to drive 5 miles out of my way to drop the kids off somewhere. I can involve myself in complicated social dealings without having to reserve my energy for the children.

And, oddly, though I am writing more in my journals...I am not in the mood to blog. I am finding myself embroiled in a situation that I feel very protective of, and I really do not want to share it with anyone. It's the kind of thing that can only be understood if I give all of the background information...and I am totally not wanting to give all of the background information, because that information is not mine to share. In my mind, it is all good. However, I am sure if I attempt to share my feelings, it will seem not all good in the lack of context and completeness. So, I won't share any. You should just know that I am feeling mushity and happy and full of life and love. And I'm also feeling some less positive feelings, but that is all part of the everything that makes us human, and I totally love that, too.

I swam 40 laps today, which was enough to get me good and rubbery feeling. I figured out that if I go swimming after swim lessons are over, I can get my own lane and not have to worry about any of that confounded lane sharing. I do not like to share lanes.

I miss my boys. As logistically smooth as my life is without them, I crave random chaos. The house is too tidy. I find that I am leaving the dishes in the sink on purpose, just because that is the only thing I seem to ever mess up around here in this house by myself. It is very weird here without them. I wake up in the morning and long to tell someone to go away and leave me alone, but I am already alone. Without Coley around to knock on my door and wake me up, I am finding that I wake myself up by my loud nose snoring.

What else? That is about it. Nothing more to report. My little empty world. It's kind of nice, actually. There is expansiveness in all directions. I can choose to be solitary, and I can choose to not be solitary. These days, I feel very privileged to have that choice.

Posted at 9:19 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Cool Air and Crushy Boys.

June 3, 2006

It has been one of those "I know why I believe in the inherent goodness of people" weeks around here. First of all, we had the cute, sweet A/C repair guy who totally went out of his way to find the missing part to my A/C unit so I could get it repaired without replacing the whole furnace. Also, while he was replacing it, he discovered that the collar thingy that holds to blower motor in place was totally rusted and falling apart, so he actually machined a new part for me because no one makes parts for my unit anymore. I am telling you that when he came and fixed that thing and I really truly realized all of the work he did just to help me out and not charge me for it...I was on the verge of tears. What a wonderful nice person. And I don't even have to believe in god to see that or receive it. hahahahaha.

So I made him a lasagna. I big, heavy, feeds about 82 people lasagna. I hope he really enjoys it. He not only helped me make my house about 20 degrees cooler, he really gave me a lesson in human kindness and for that I am most appreciative of all.

I also made a lazagg for my cute crushy boy who came over last night for a nice date-like thingy. Although I wasn't sure if it was a date or not. I'm still not sure if it was, either...but it sure was nice to hang out with him. Crushy boy (who will remain a mystery to everyone moo hee hahahahahahahah) is quirky and sweet and gosh is he fun to cuddle. He makes me smile, and I am grinning dumfuckedly at the screen as I type this. We watched Brazil, and he even seemed to not mind that I had to get up and move around about a zillion times during the movie, even though he is a total film snob and he had predicted that he would get pissed about my movie ADD. But I did him up right with pesto and bread and salad and lasagna and berries with choc covered espresso beans for dessert. Also, he liked my dog. And I like him. An awful lot. Yeah. Immensely.

So, what crushy boy has taught me this week is that certain needs can be satisfied from unlikely sources. Like, when I first started talking to him, I had no idea of the depth of his ability to satisfy some of my more bizarre desires. Things like chatting all day off and on - it is like there is a nice little disembodied voice in my house with me. A grown up voice. And poetry and silly sappiness and music. So many sweet little things that I have not been able to share with anyone before, I seem to be able to share with crushy boy. And I am so thankful for his presence in my life. Plus there's that snuggling thing. That's important too...when the voice has a body. Hee. I am getting all dreamy sitting here.

At any rate, yeah. I would say it has been a good week, notwithstanding the absence of my two favorite little wacky sidekicks. Life is pretty fucking grand.

Posted at 8:31 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Keep your ear to the ground...

June 1, 2006

Last night before I went to bed, I typed up this note and magnified the font and left it on my computer, which was on all night with the monitor off:

Dear me:
Do not sit around pining away for impossible boys on the computer all day and waiting for the AC repairman. GO SWIMMING! TREAT YOURSELF! HAVE FUN! ENJOY LIFE!

Love,

Me.

Ha! I crack me up sometimes.

Of course, this morning it is raining and not really good swimming weather, so go figure. However, I am not pining in the least, nor do I care if the AC repair guy EVER shows up. At this point, I am starting to calculate the cost savings of not even having AC at all and maybe just investing in one good window unit to keep us cool this summer...or until I can save up to get a whole new HVAC system that is energy/cost efficient. Fuck central air! Fuck luxury!

I am slowly crawling out of my self-induced hell of no children. It feels shockingly empty in this house. And tidy. And I have nothing to distract me except for impossible boys on the internet, and the news - all of which seems bad, and my books and journals. I wake up, having slept with my journal, and I write for 30 minutes. And before I go to bed I tap madly at the keyboard. Pecking out words.

Oh, it's not so bad as all of that. I am not completely insane and isolated. I played card last night with A. He taught me how to play Fluxx and it was enjoyable. A is a nice person to spend time with. He is not an impossible boy, but a Truly Nice Guy. So if any of you ladies out there are looking for a nice guy - I can introduce you. Come play cards with us!

My housemate keeps to herself mostly. And I have been working. Free from the logistical nightmare of childcare, work is so easy to accomplish. I go into the office early, and I feel compelled to stay late. I have been forgetting to scan the Chronicle for shows and movies that I want to see. I feel kind of broke what with the ac repairs forthcoming, but I might still find a way to afford to go see blackalicious tomorrow if it isn't totally sold out and if my tentative movie-watching, lasagna-eating plans with #1 impossible boy get canceled - which they likely may, because he is Impossible.

Other than that...nothing. I still wake up at Coley Time every morning. My goal was to swim in the late morning and walk late at night. I have been doing the walks, but the swims have not been happening.

I spend my days at home listening to old punk rock on cassette. I need to get a new turntable. It's in the works. Today it is the Discord State of the Union compilation. "I want this candle lighted for the dear departed." I remember my friend Gar had a big crush on this woman. Gar. Gah. I need to email Gar. He always can pull me out of semi-funks and leave me laughing and laughing and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Time is too short to mope. Almost 1 week down, a little more than 2 to go.

Posted at 10:36 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

Without fear she'd give up and die...

May 30, 2006

I have created a pretty good summer mix. I just need to get permission from someone before I include a couple of his songs on the mix. I am not sure if he would want me to share them, but they are so so so so good, I am hoping he says yes.

I am in the 4th day here without air conditioning, and I have to say I had been so spoiled by the A/C that I forgot how to do those basic thingys that we do to conserve energy. Like, for instance, well-placed fans. I think I am going to at least attempt to go A/C free while the kids are away. My housemate has a window unit, so I am not terribly worried about her up and leaving in a huff (plus she is also really a very nice person...which, YAY! for me for finding such a cool housemate).

I have also done a fair amount of housecleaning this weekend. My kitchen is quite tidy, and I am working on the living room bit by bit. going around the room in a methodical fashion. I am enjoying it immensely. It makes me, once again, want to have a companion here that will just quietly Be Here while I do silly stuff like cleaning and dancing around with the vacuum cleaner. I could save a ton of money if I could multitask my socializing with puttering around the house. I'm a huge fan of puttering, but after awhile by myself, I start to feel all crusty and in need of external stimulus. Some other voices to focus on, rather than just those in my own head.

And mowing my lawn. I actually started working on the front yard today and got almost all the way done before the lawn mower started to smell like it was on the verge of bursting into flames. I unplugged it and turned it over to look at it, and some lady drove up and was all freaked out saying "UNPLUG IT FIRST! UNPLUG IT!!!!" I held the UNPLUGGED end of the extension cord out for her to see and said, puzzled "Um, I'm not THAT stupid." meaning...yeah, I wait until my lawn is like 8 feet high before I mow it down, but nyeesh. Give me a freaking break, lady.

What is it about me that inspires people to think I need advice, anyway? Really, I do know I am kind of a freak and an arm-waving seemingly-on-the-verge-of-catastrophe freak at that...but seriously...if you are so interested in preventing me from doing dumb stuff, kindly donate some money to the paypal account and keep your stupid advice to your stupid self. I'm liable to wave the unplugged extension cord of my actually fairly joyous life in your face, otherwise. Yes, I do recognize a live wire when I see one. Don't worry, I do wear rubber gloves to avoid electrocution. Nyeesh. I am not lacking in wisdom...just time and money.

I had my first swim of the summer yesterday and it was fucking awesome. I got 30 laps in right off the bat and felt like that was a good enough number for now. I am still walking every night and my stamina is really improving. I will probably swim more and more over the summer, but I just don't want to overdo it at first and burn out. I want to swim until it's not fun to be swimming anymore. Today, I drove out to the pool and it looked way too crowded for a leisurely swim so, fuck it. I came home and watched a video and paid my bills. Or, at least I wrote the checks and put them into the envelopes. We have yet to see how they actually get paid. And when. A little at a time. Pressure valve bill paying. The good thing about a three day weekend is only 3 days until payday.

I have decided that I MUST find a way to get that big pomegranate tattoo on my back. Maybe it won't be a full back piece, I don't know. It depends. I need to write up the conceptualization I have and send it off to my friend so she can sketch it out for me. I might not be able to get it by August...I might even have to wait until next year. But, damnit, I need to have a pomegranate tattooed on my back, and that is FINAL. Three pomegranates, actually...well, no...two and a half.

I have thought about a million times this weekend about never ever blogging again. I am feeling very over-exposed lately. Also, it really seems like I am finally communicating with someone on a regular basis who sort of "gets" me without me having to go to great lengths to be "gotten." That is a nice feeling. But tonight I was chatting with my wacky-sidekick-in-training and I realized that blogging is about me and not about whoever is reading this. So I need to just sit down and let the words come. I am doing more private journaling about my more private thoughts, but I still have plenty of things to share, in case anyone is interested.

Speaking of wacky-sidekick-in-training, he had some wisdom tonight to share about love and practicality, and thinking about that conversation reminded me of the conversation I had with my friend S last night about my parenting angst. I was telling S that I have all of this weird angst about not being a "complete" family for the boys - not being good enough just on my own, but not feeling like I really even will ever want to have a partner. S sagely responded that, you know, almost all kids complain about SOMETHING from their childhood. In other words, if it wasn't my lack of a partner, it would be something else. It was so simple but so immensely calmly delivered and wise. I was grateful to him. I always forget that my friends without kids actually HAVE BEEN kids at some point in their lives, and are therefore very well qualified to give parenting advice when called upon to do so. Silly me. Always underestimating!

Germ Free Adolescents
by X-Ray Spex

I know you're antiseptic
Your deodorant smells nice
I'd like to get to know you
But you're deep frozen like the ice

He's a germ free adolescent
Cleanliness is her obsession
Cleans her teeth ten times a day
Scrub away scrub away scrub away
The S.R. way....

You may get to touch her
If your gloves are sterilised
Rinse your mouth with listerine
Blow disinfectant in her eyes

Her phobia is infection
She needs one to survive
It's her built-in protection
Without fear she'd give up and die

Posted at 12:57 AM • Comments (4) • TrackBack

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Ways I Hate You!

May 28, 2006

There is something satisfying about waking up feeling angsty and listening to punk rock...especially hyperbolically angry punk rock.

I can't find one of my private journals and it is pissing me off and freaking me out. I am sure it is around somewhere, but not absolutely sure. My private journals are, like, the place where I dump all of my thoughts in the moment and not look back. I don't even know what I wrote in this particular journal, but the idea of anyone reading it without context freaks me right out. They are not meant for public consumption. At all. So there's that, and there's teh fact that the journal contained, like, thoughts from the past 4-6 months or so of my life, and I really need to get it back.

I remember one time I left a private journal on a bench somewhere and when I realized I had left it, I went back in a panic and there were a bunch of people reading it. I was embarrassed enough to consider not even saying anything - I mean, how would they know it was me? But we are talking about my JOURNAL here...so I got it back. blah.

And then there was the time my ex read my journal and it sparked his final descent into depravity with regard to our relationship. I had written very frankly (in my PRIVATE journal) about some feelings I was having about our relationship, sex, being touched, etc. It was a very bad time in my life, and I had a lot of pain that I needed to let go of. My journal was always my escape. They were hurtful words, but they were words that were never meant to be read by anyone other than me. Really, it was just a lot of stuff I needed to work through and get over, and an exploration, using words, of all of my options. After he found it (and broke up with me as a result) I had a difficult time writing anything in my journals. I have only just now begun to recover the ability to not self-censor when I write.

I am hoping I find that fucking journal. Damnit.

In other news, I have spent the past day and a half in hiding from the world. I have an inkling that I am going to make a break for it today...and maybe go swimming or something. I'm still not really feeling like being around people. Maybe one or two people. Blah. I miss my boys. I am going to take a vacation upon their return and spent the whole time hugging them. The little twerps.

You know, it's actually not so bad in here without A/C. I have a fan by my bed and on the couch, and I just flop in one place or another and take a lot of showers. Cooking is gross, but it is perfect for enforcing laziness which, you know, every once in awhile needs to be enforced.

Posted at 9:48 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Spread Your Wings

May 27, 2006

Have you ever had a time in your life when a bevy of seemingly ill-timed or ill-advised events come together to form some sort of gorgeous symphony? Like how sometimes trash can lids can sound like music, and the smell of your sweat can become a comforting sweetness, or how three weeks of freedom can become three weeks of...caged insanity?

This is the way it is for me lately. Or maybe it has been this way forever. I can't keep track. But right now, I have no a/c in my house, my kids left yesterday and tore my heart out along with them, I am hopelessly enamored of a boy who presents a significant set of challenges (but who is absolutely deliciously sexy and wonderful and mushy and sweet and sour and, oh, everything.) and I spent pretty much the entire night last night taking pictures of myself crying. hahaha.

I laugh, because in spite of or because of this, I feel like bursting open. It is all emergence in the end. It is so funny how beautiful life is, and how every little thing leads into something else which causes another thing which sparks a raging conflagration. I can't say that I am overjoyed today. I am tired from sleep interrupted with bouts of extreme wakefulness. I am crusty from tears. I am addled in the head with feelings of lust and love combined (oh, my!) and I am here sitting on the edge of my seat, wondering how this is all going to come together.

"Spread Your Wings"
by Spiritualized

Oh babe
You know Iâ€™ll take
Just a little bit more
Just a little bit more
And time
Time goes
Time goes slowly by
When I know that it can fly
Câ€™mon spread your wings
Spread your wings

You can do anything, everything, anything

Posted at 2:05 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Flickr photo friday - version blast from the past

May 27, 2006

An old friend from high school sent me some photos from my misspent youth:

Also, a couple of tearful arty shots, which are part of a series that I'm too, um, impaired to decide if they are safe to share.

And some photos from last week's trip to the Nature Center:

Enjoy!

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It's a Decemberisty Day

May 25, 2006

Maybe because I am wishing it was December - or any month, really, in which it wouldn't matter that my fucking A/C fan is broken. Fuck. I thought I was going to be totally flush for my vacation and now I am going to, instead, be scrambling for money.

At any rate, J is going to come over and take a look at it, which is funny because it was J who fixed it the last time...banging away on the damn thing until the fan motor came out. He spent about 24 hours working on it. I am hoping this time, if it is the motor again, it won't be quite as rusted tight. What I really need is an entirely new unit, but that will have to wait. I am hoping that it is the motor again. Or the solonoid. I am hoping this isn't an expensivey repair. All the better if J can pull it off for the cost of parts and lunch and the pleasure of our company.

I had a nice conversation with J last night. We haven't seen much of him around here lately, and I, for one, miss him. A lot. Monk misses him, too. I'm sure Coley does, as well...but lately all Coley ever thinks about is his mama (me). We are all supposed to go on an outing tomorrow before the boys go to their dad's house for. three. weeks.

It was a nice conversation with J, but I wish I wasn't such an oversharing freak. You know, for once in my life, I would like to be able to keep a freaking secret or two. I am finding that oversharing has become almost compulsive with me. Like there is nothing about me that I'm not absolutely willing to prattle on and on about. I want to be able to play it cool with someone...to hold back information. To not be such a freaking arm-waving dork so much of the time. But, no. I will happily spill whatever I am asked (or not even asked in the most remote sense, depending on my mood) to spill.

I would make a horrible spy. So, instead I will listen to the Decemberists and dream of a me who could, instead of spilling factual information, make up elaborate lies about who I am and what I am thinking or feeling or doing. Wouldn't that be fun?

My mother was a Chinese Trapeze Artist
by The Decemberists

My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist
In pre-war Paris
Smuggling bombs for the underground.
And she met my father
At a fete in Aix-en-Provence.
He was disguised as a Russian cadet
in the employ of the Axis.
And there in the half-light
Of the provincial midnight
To a lone concertina
They drank in cantinas
And toasted to Edith Piaf
And the fall of the Reich.

My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy
And left for the cattle
But later was found by a communist
Who'd deserted his ranks
To follow his dream
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina.
I get letters sometimes.
They bought a plantation
She weeds the tobacco
He offends the nation
And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear."
"Sincerely, your sister."

So my parents had me
To the disgust of the prostitutes
On a bed in a brothel.
Surprisingly raised with tender care
'Til the money got tight
And they bet me away
To a blind brigadier in a game
Of high stakes canasta.
But he made me a sailor
On his brigadier ship fleet.
I know every yardarm
From main mast to jib sheet.
But sometimes I long to be landlocked
And to work in a bakery.

Posted at 7:34 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Random thoughts.

May 23, 2006

I have been walking around in a weird semi-daze all day that usually means one of two things: either I am about to come down with some sort of illness, or I am balancing on the rickety bridge of love, on the verge of totally taking a dive. I am praying in that way that only non-praying people can pray that I start barfing soon. Either way, my dog is pissed. I had to skip our walk tonight so I could take a nap and now, though I feel somewhat less flushed and disoriented, I am still too tired to walk, and I have a bunch of work to finish up before I can go to sleep sleep. She (the dog) is pretending to be innocently asleep on the couch, but I think in reality she is secretly plotting something evil.

This is the last week that the children are with me before they go to their dad's house for an extended visit. I have wacky sidekicks lined up to distract me, and all sorts of plans and ideas for what I need to do. Luckily, I am also suddenly feeling very inspired in the writing department - only it's mostly stuff that I only really want to put in my private journal for now...so readers of the blog might not witness the impending flood of words. Or, as Coley would maybe say - floodNADO. Of words.

I spent the weekend doing mostly mellowish things of little consequence, and some of major consequence. Cleaning up the house, seeing a movie with Hay-rolled, meeting a new friend who is really good at hugging (and maude knows you can't have enough of THOSE in your life! Yay for friends who give good hug!), thinking, walking, writing, reading...making soup..hanging laundry. I will let you decide which is minor/major

There are some feelings that I am having that I think have their origins in this sudden spate of reconnections with old friends combined with hanging out with someone new and considering what I want to relate about my past. I find myself smiling, and suddenly there are tears in my eyes and I cannot place the sadness. Tonight, it hit me that the people I am reconnecting with are not only all from the era in my life that I remember as being particularly full of kinship and love, but also that which ultimately led to a great deal of pain for me. Pain that made me flee my home state and move somewhere I never thought I would live. Pain that would make me hide away geographically and learn to tuck away parts of myself out of the reach of anyone. I learned in those years what vulnerability was, and gradually I learned that it was not OK to allow myself to be vulnerable. In spite of appearances, I have still not really learned how to allow myself to be vulnerable with people. I frequently pretend I am invincible. I allow people to say/do things that hurt me, and I brush these things off as if they are no big deal. I act like I am Not Sensitive when really I am Ultra Sensitive. I like to think I'm pretty transparent. I also like to think that at some point someone will realize that about me and not rely on me to say "ouch" before they stop. hurting. me.

And, here's the deal. Right now, I am involved with a couple of people who are exposing a great deal of stark vulnerability to me. The vulnerabilities that are being exposed originate from totally different situations, but with both people I feel a tremendous amount of gratitude for the trust they have invested in me. I feel like it has been a long time since I have been witness to someone else's vulnerabilities in such a way. On one hand, I feel like I have been in training my whole life for just this type of thing...on the other hand, I am frightened that I might screw everything up. Either way, I think I am learning something important. I think that a lot of times random events in my life come together in a seemingly coincidental way that is actually not coincidence at all, but rather a sign pointing me to some sort of self-reckoning. I'm waiting to see what ends up happening here, but I'm also participating in the end result. I feel inspired by these people and their vulnerabilities. It is forcing me to consciously exercise the tendency that I have to be overly-cautious about what I say and do, and that isn't such a bad thing at all.

Driving home from picking up the kids tonight and listening to the Dirty Three, I suddenly was able to define at least some of what I am feeling. It is...relief? Prescience? Some sort of notion that soon I will be able to lie back comfortably and Be Understood. And not have to work so hard at it. I don't know if I am just thinking wishfully here, but with at least one of these relationships, I am getting a sense of kinship which on the surface might appear to be yet another tricky personality to manouver around but underneath might actually provide me with that Calm Knowing that I have desired for so long. When I was trying to think of a way to describe it, I pictured someone walking past a window of an empty building and not really paying attention enough to notice beyond the apparent darkness within...but about a block away, stopping...returning...standing in front of the window with hands framing eyes to see inside and...finding something. Something that looked like nothing before, but is Really Something. Something delicate and intricate and fragile and beautiful. Something never before considered. Like an overgrown path that with only a slight amount of work in the beginning, becomes a more enjoyable route. Or something.

Oh, I don't know. Maybe I am just babbling because I am getting the flu or something. I should probably go take some echinacea and finish this work that needs to get done so I can go to sleep.

Posted at 12:22 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Lester Bangs, blogging, and the art of romancing the mundane.

May 21, 2006

My little imaginary friend inside of the computer and I got into an argument last week. Actually, he is no longer my little imaginary friend, because I actually got to meet him last week, also...but before I got to meet him, we got into an argument about art.

No-longer-imaginary friend (who wants to be referred to as "skippy" but I think he is more of a "bear") feels that a strict definition needs to be applied to art. We argued because he flatly refused to believe that the writing done on blogs can be art. I think, too, that he might have a problem believing that vaguely non-fictional personal essays like those that I write here, can be art.

I was frustrated, mostly because I am tired of men defining what is and isn't art for me, as if I am incapable of discerning or defining or experiencing or coming to my own conclusions. And also because his refusal to accept a wider scope WAS so flat, and it was so so easy for him to deny my experience as an artist and of the process of my creation.

I was so frustrated, in fact, that I set out to commit artistic homicide! That night, before I went to bed, I went to the website where Bear's music is stored, and I set it up to play his music for me while i drifted off. I was hoping that if I listened to his music earnestly I would be able to approach him with a secret air of smug disdain. I would never tell him that I thought his music was trite, but I would KNOW...and I would no longer have to be effected by his opinion of my mode of creative expulsion. I think I fell asleep before the first song (when I told him this story in chat the next day, he interrupted me here by saying "Heh.") HOWEVER, I woke up several hours later to the most amazing sounds I have heard in a long time. Something totally unique and something that totally rubbed this spiritually orgasmic spot in my chest. I sat straight up in bed and thought "Oh, fuck. Bear is a fucking genius."

This is troublesome on several levels...not the least of which is the fact that I am perpetually drawn to crazy mad genius types, and at this precise point in my life, I really do not need to be chasing boys around with my tongue hanging out, mad for whatever they have to offer me*. But also...fuck. Now I have to take his opinions about art seriously because, indeed, he is an Artist.

So, all weekend I have been considering this. Art. I have defended personal blogging as a political act...but have I ever really considered whether or not it is an artistic act? Is my life...a work of art? And does sharing it here with you make me an artist?

I gotta say...I don't know. I think it is subjective, although I see the validity in Bear's idea that art needs to be defined and filtered and criticized in order to prevent muddying of the waters. But perhaps it is so that I am more of a socialist of art. That I feel that everyone needs to create art in whatever way it is within them and through whatever means are available to them. I am not saying that blogs are art by definition, but blogs can be art. And I am not saying that writing auto-biographically is always creative, but I am saying that, at least in my place, there is no difference between the creator and the creation. What I offer (at my best) is no different than a well-framed photo or a beautifully composed symphony. I still have to choose what to relate and how I am going to set about relating it. And, baby, that is art. I mean, a photographer takes about 100 shots (or more) to get that ONE. PERFECT. SHOT. I bet the ratio of crap to decent writing on this site is way better than that. The only difference is that I am putting it out there, flaws and all, and allowing the reader to decide. And isn't it true that the most lauded artists are those who take mundane objects and elevate them to something to be revered? Doesn't the true artist inject beauty into the banal and cause spectator to become participant? Those are the artists *I* prefer, anyway.

Ultimately, Bear and I came to a middle ground somewhere. He admitted that he was being a bit touchy, and I admitted that 85% of what I write here is probably safely well out of anyone's definition of art. And I am OK with that, because I know that I am an artist, regardless.

And what does all of this have to do with Lester Bangs? Well, after our argument, I typed two words into my chat client and sent them off to Bear. Lester Bangs.

Who? What?

Lester Bangs raised music criticism to a high form of art, using personal experience as a vehicle. He makes me care about stuff I don't actually really give a shit about.

Bear responded: I thought you hated critics.

I said: But I love Lester Bangs...and that is, precisely, my point.

*I am definitely going to have to come back to this later...as this weekend I have had about a zillion thoughts, conversations, ideas, scary moments of panic about this tendency of mine...but inevitably I know I am fine. So don't go worrying about me or anything. Basically, the conclusion I have reached is that it might be so that I am drawn to crazy men...but this attraction has really only bitten me in the ass once or maybe twice in my life...which is more than most people who AREN'T attracted to crazy men can say. And in the meantime, I get the added joy of having a little controlled chaos in my life that not only serves to awaken but also inspire me. Immensely. So, whatever. Bite me if you want to pathologize me based on my love of the crazy men...because, like I told my mom..."So, like, if you are crazy that needs to condemn you to a life without love? If so...UNFAIR! And if not...who will love the crazy man, if not me?"

Posted at 9:49 AM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

More Craig's List Mayhem

May 16, 2006

It was another one of those platonic-only ads that really wasn't looking for anything platonic. I am about to give up. I mean, I don't necessarily mind if I start chatting with someone, discover there is crushiness happening, and maybe develop something more than friendship, but I am not at all interested in talking to people with S-E-X, or one of its many subsidiaries, being the primary focus of the conversation. Right off the bat.

So, the dude starts chatting with me yesterday, and within the first 5 minutes he's all "send me a photo! I am curious about what you look like!" and I was busy cooking and...multi-tasking...and being mama and stuff, so I got pissy with him and was like "I don't have time for this. You can stay curious!" and I closed the window.

Later that night, he started chatting me up again, and I was just kind of watching the train wreck as it happened. I think he was wanting to flirt (which, in hindsight, I had been jokingly flirting with him before, and said something like "flirting is only good if it is bad." And I think he might have taken that to mean bad as in naughty, when I ACTUALLY meant bad as in cheesy.) or maybe even talk sexy talk with me, which kind of cracks me up. Sorry if that offends anyone out there who might be into sexy-talk online, but it just seems sort of silly to me. At any rate, he asked me about myself and I obliged a little and returned the question. He said he was "becoming more and more conservative" as he got older...and then he tried to continue the conversation...and I was all "Dude, you kind of lost me at the part where you said you were conservative."

But I was being work-avoidant, so I hung in. Until the jackass tells me he has a wife and 4 kids. I'm all "Why are you trying to flirt with crazy internet women when you have a wife and FOUR CHILDREN? Shouldn't you be flirting WITH YOUR WIFE?"

Gah.

He laughed it off, and was all "Well, the meds make her not want to have sex with me."

EYEROLL.

I was like "Dude, I don't think you want to talk to me...because I will only lecture you."

and then I said

"hahahahaha."

And he said "What is so funny?"

And I said "It's just that it is kind of ironic that the ANARCHIST is schooling the REPUBLICAN on MORAL ETHICS."

But, actually...if you think about it...it kind of is not.

Suddenly, my little wife and four kids dude had to "run to the store." I don't think I will be hearing from him again. It gives me an idea, though...maybe I should become the MASKED CRAIG'S LIST CRUSADER! I can chat up married dudes and teach them about relationship ethics! It sounds like a fun pasttime.

Posted at 9:53 AM • Comments (6) • TrackBack

Snake and Turtle

May 13, 2006

I just have to say that I am so proud of myself for this picture. I was so busy concentrating on getting the flower just right, I totally didn't notice there was a snake AND a turtle in the shot until I was uploading the pictures to flickr. Isn't that the neatest thing?

Posted at 11:09 AM • Comments (3) • TrackBack

flickr foto friday: a day at the botanical garden

May 12, 2006

I haven't been uploading photos! I have a backlog! I'll start today and work backwards in the coming weeks. I have photos up from our trip to the botanical garden:

also, some shots by coley:

and a few self-portraits from a good hair day (both me and cole!):

Enjoy!

Posted at 6:31 PM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

It was then that I broke down, it was then that you lifted me up again...

May 12, 2006

Lately when I walk past my dream house, there is someone in there! He's tall and has a shaved head and seems to be alone whenever I walk by. I wonder if he likes Nick Cave.

If you know what is good for you, you will take my advice and listen to the Abbatoir Blues/Lyre of Orpheus 2xCD over and over again. You might learn something. Especially you boys out there. I am noticing that the majority of people who do not "get" Nick Cave are boys. What's with you guys? Are you jealous of Nick's weasely manliness? Disregard that line about the "deep sea diver's suit" - the man can pull a lyric out of his ass like no one's business, and he can pull off lines that no other singer can accomplish without sounding just silly. And he still ends up sounding totally swoonworthy. And relevent. Because in the end, it IS beauty that is going to save the world now:

"You pointed at something and said
Have you ever seen such a beautiful thing
It was then that I broke down
It was then that you lifted me up again."

It's so simple, and yet...so vital. This is what I live for.

Lately, I've been caught up in learning more about my little imaginary friend inside of the computer. He is a nice imaginary friend, but I can't seem to get past the screen. It is frustrating. I think I am being paid back for all of the times I have been impossible and vague with people. But, in a way, it is also very fun. I am learning a lot about myself, as well.

For instance, I am a total brat when it comes to meeting people at homeschool park day. I sit here online and spout off all of the time about how fascinated I am with people...and yet - I go to park day armed with a book and my journal, and curl up in a corner and ignore everyone, unless certain people are there. Today, a nice mom tried to befriend me. I was attempting to make small talk back, and there was really nothing wrong with her, but I find it difficult to muster. She asked me something about the philisophical composition of the homeschool group, and I said, kind of chuckling "I don't actually know much about the other homeschoolers. I am pretty much anti-social." I think she felt like I was trying to tell her to leave me the fuck alone, but I wasn't. I was just being honest. I don't really talk to anyone save the 5 or 6 people I already know at park day. I meet maybe 1 or 2 new people a year. I already feel pretty overwhelmed with the number of people I know and need to keep up with!

It is a social habit for me to pick 2 or 3 people from any given social circle that I am involved in and leave the rest. An economy of socializing. I feel the need to diversify. My circle of friends already suffers from a lack of diversity. For instance, this year has been the first year since the kids were born that I really have had any good male friends. It is a nice change of pace, but I am glad that I have some good bonds with women, too. For a long, long time all of my close friends were males & I dunno...I just think it is important to have good friends all over the spectrum of gender.

Ummm...it is late, and I am getting distracted. I have been distracted all week. I have a headachey crush* on a boy, but it's an imaginary crush* with an imaginary boy and I can't know if it is a real crush* until the boy becomes real...you know? So I am distracted with trying to see through the shroud. And my head hurts from squinting through the haze and mist.

Somehow, even this headache is kind of fun, too. Confusion is sex, you know.

Which, by the way, when did it become an "showing my age" rather than, you know, "being old school" to like pre-Daydream Nation Sonic youth? Not that I care so much for being considered cool in my musical tastes, but I feel like I at least deserve a little credit for having seen Sonic Youth live during the Sister Tour - rather than being called an old lady because of that. pft! I have noticed, too, that I seem to have conversations with people where I say "Oh, yeah...I saw them live during the "blank" tour." Followed by awed silence. This happened at dinner the other night. We were talking about how Bauhaus (!!!!!!!) will be touring with Nine Inch Nails, and somehow that got us talking about The Jesus and Mary Chain (maybe they toured with NIN at some point) and I was like "Yeah, I saw JMC during the Psychocandy tour." And there was silence. But it was a silence of respect, not a silence of "Damn, you are an old fucking lady!" See...I *AM* old school, Damnit!

In a couple of weeks, the boys will be going to stay with their father for three whole weeks. THREE WHOLE WEEKS. This is very daunting to me, and I realize for the last three extended stays with their dad, I have managed to recruit whacky sidekicks to take their place in my life. Over Thanksgiving, it was a trip to New Orleans to visit C; over winter break, it was my cricket; over spring break, it was sxsw with Tracy (who I am thrilled to note is blogging again. I had a fun little IM chat with him in which I waxed maniacal about Mr. Cave and he just sort of sat there, sweet man that he is, and feigned interest in a very convincing manner. Thanks, Trace! You are the greatest!)...I figure I need to set up auditions for the summer incarnation of the Whacky Sidekick character. Who will it be? Who will it be?!

I have an idea of who I want it to be, but I'm afraid that if I say it out loud, he will go hide under a rock and never come out - no matter how much candy I try to bribe him with**.

Ha!

*I need to clarify that this is one of my patented "want to find out every little thing about, but not necessarily have hot sex with" crushes. I tend to reserve judgment about the potential "hot sex" factor until I have actually met someone in person and witnessed how they interact with the world. So, I hope my little imaginary friend doesn't freak out that I have a crush on him. As if he doesn't already know. Ah, fuck...I am just digging a huge hole here, aren't I? I suppose anyone worth knowing will understand whatever the fuck it is I am talking about, or at least allow for explanation before freaking out.

**Actually, Whacky Sidekick would be the perfect clarification of what I desire of above-mentioned crush. I want to roam the streets of Austin in the middle of the night and sing songs and maybe dance around and be silly and, you know, that little fantasy I have of someone just being here without demanding anything and without any real pressing demands being placed on him. That's what I'm really auditioning for. And if my little imaginary friend isn't up for that...I guess I will have to look elsewhere.

Nature Boy
by Nick Cave

I was just a boy when I sat down
To watch the news on TV
I saw some ordinary slaughter
I saw some routine atrocity
My father said, don't look away
You got to be strong, you got to be bold, now
He said, that in the end it is beauty
That is going to save the world, now

And she moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
She moves something deep inside of me

I was walking around the flower show like a leper
Coming down with some kind of nervous hysteria
When I saw you standing there, green eyes, black hair
Up against the pink and purple wisteria
You said, hey, nature boy, are you looking at me
With some unrighteous intention?
My knees went weak,
I couldn't speak, I was having thoughts
That were not in my best interests to mention

And she moves among the flowers
And she floats upon the smoke
She moves among the shadows
She moves me with just one little look

You took me back to your place
And dressed me up in a deep sea diver's suit
You played the patriot, you raised the flag
And I stood at full salute
Later on we smoked a pipe that struck me dumb
And made it impossible to speak
As you closed in, in slow motion,
Quoting Sappho, in the original Greek

She moves among the shadows
She floats upon the breeze
She moves among the candles
And we moved through the days
and through the years

Years passed by, we were walking by the sea
Half delirious
You smiled at me and said, Babe
I think this thing is getting kind of serious
You pointed at something and said
Have you ever seen such a beautiful thing?
It was then that I broke down
It was then that you lifted me up again

She moves among the sparrows
And she walks across the sea
She moves among the flowers
And she moves something deep inside of me

She moves among the sparrows
And she floats upon the breeze
She moves among the flowers
And she moves right up close to me

Posted at 1:12 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

Just some random thoughts.

May 8, 2006

I sometimes wonder why anyone reads this blog. I actually frequently think about disassociating myself from the feminist blogs and anarchoblog feeds because, although I consider myself a feminist and an anarchist, I don't really talk about feminism or anarchism. I'm not really writing this stuff for any real purpose other than the joy of writing, and I think sometimes being associated with those feeds makes me self-conscious about doing what I started this thing to do in the first place, which is write silly stupid stuff about how I spend my time and allow the reader to decide whether or not my day to day existence is actually politically relevent. I think it is...just as I think everyone else's is...but I still feel self-conscious about it.

At any rate, that said, I'm going to commence talking about silly stupid stuff that may or may not have any political relevence. I suppose I'll stay on those feeds until someone finally tells me I'm irrelevent and kicks me off!

Today I took care of a financial issue that has been hanging over my head for a year now, and which came to a head on Saturday and I couldn't deal with until today because the offices were closed for the weekend. I have to say for the amount of worrying I did about this issue over the weekend, it's resolution was extremely anti-climactic. At the same time, I feel tremendously relieved. If I play my cards right, I will have this issue totally dealt with and off my back within a couple of months. Maybe then my sudden outbreak of nervous acne will disappear.

Like I mentioned in an earlier post, I had a really nice weekend - communicating with people on all sorts of different levels. I think I am addicted to people. For a long time, I have thought that I have a weird penchant for befriending and being attracted to crazy people. This weekend, I realized that I have the urge to befriend and be attracted to just about anyone. It's just that *I* am perhaps a little crazy, so crazy people are the only ones who respond to me with any level of openness. Or, perhaps, you have to be a little crazy in this world to open up to others. Maybe our definition of sanity is remaining stoic in spite of what we really truly need to do, which is burst open on each other and let it all hang out. I'm in need of more safe venues of bursting open. I'm in need of more witnessing of others' bursting open. I crave it. It is an addiction. I just know it is. I love people - getting to know them, finding out more and more and more. It makes me happy to connect with others, even just a smile as I walk past them on the street.

I was absolutely delighted when, on Saturday, my mom called to let me know that she had chanced upon a friend of mine from high school. JC was one of those kids you knew in high school who seemed impervious to the social bullshit that was happening all around him. He was fantastically weird and funny and sweet and yet so removed from everything as to be unknowable. He sat in front of me in Algebra class, and used to make little paper hats and clothes for the teddy bears I carried with me everywhere. Of course, I had a huge, unspoken crush on him. I'm not even sure if I was aware I had a crush on him. I think I was conscious of his unknowability and therefore never allowed myself to attempt to know him. I knew that any attempt would end in heartbreak, and I would never again be able to appreciate him for his adorable silly randomly outrageous self. I think I was pretty ignorant of my wisdom back then, but I'm sure I was acting out of a weird wisdom when it came to a lot of the choices I made.

At any rate, a few months back, a friend of mine asked to look at the high school yearbooks I have up on my top shelf, and JC had written in it in his usual undescribably imaginative and silly way, and I thought "HmmmmMMmm." I attempted to do a google search to

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June 20, 2009

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I was reminded last night...

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Sidelined

January 21, 2009

For a friend who is a closet situationist.

January 19, 2009

Do you ever just stop short, breathless, in the face of your own stupidity?

January 14, 2009

I have reached that point in my vacation...

December 30, 2008

I'm so mad they don't have a podcast!

December 30, 2008

It's been nice...

December 28, 2008

I am having trouble getting work done...so I shall blog!

December 17, 2008

Lately...

December 10, 2008

What I did during my break from the kids...

November 2, 2008

Never Stop...

October 17, 2008

Good News/Bad News

August 21, 2008

So much to write about, so little time...

July 15, 2008

How's hope feeling today...

July 8, 2008

The first time I heard Chumbawamba...

May 2, 2008

Vote!

April 21, 2008

So I have been thinking a lot...

April 19, 2008

Blogging about NOT blogging

April 18, 2008

Mood Swingy Bears...

March 16, 2008

Warning Lights and Short Circuits.

February 26, 2008

Is it just me...?

February 17, 2008

An Update.

February 13, 2008

Coley has been sick...

January 31, 2008

Where I am at

January 14, 2008

Reunion

January 7, 2008

Yo-Yo (part 1)

January 6, 2008

Ye Olde Birthday Poste.

January 6, 2008

It always comes back to this...

December 31, 2007

I'm just gonna close my eyes for a second...

December 14, 2007

A survey...

December 13, 2007

From my private journal 12/8/2007

December 8, 2007

'Tis the Season...

November 26, 2007

Sensitivity...

November 18, 2007

Without a Cairn...

November 3, 2007