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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 (0) • 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."

Posted at 3:27 PM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

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.

Posted at 1:52 PM • Comments (1) • TrackBack

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...

Posted at 8:27 AM • Comments (2) • TrackBack

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..."

Posted at 8:04 AM • Comments (0) • TrackBack

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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

By the way...

October 22, 2007

Mining for Cole.

October 22, 2007