Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Besides strange dreams and landscapes, I've slept through the night the last few. The trajectory of the downslope- gross things about slightly pitted skin, scabs and copious amounts of ointment...not whincing and saying breath prayers for unconsciousness. And besides photographing the journey, I'm reading a historical romance- a monk forbidden love a girl named celia- centuries later the two come together again... to contrast i'm also reading a book on chaos theory. I've just got through the section on fractals and now we're talking fluid dynamics and the problem of turbulence. Reminds me of when i was in school and the constant exchange of ideas were swirling around me. Ah, nevermind. Let's not romanticize learning and school. Pshaw.
As a sidenote have you tried ear protection for when you vacuum? Or mow the lawn. Or even noise canceling headsets... I have a pair and it does make it all better. They really should make those things more stealth like. It's enough that my computer has a loud hum to it and when i leave my dvd player plugged in it cycles on and whirrs. Most annoying.
Well nevermind. I'm full from pineapple and am vaguely sympathetic about the fish situation and obviously at this moment sort of glad to be single. The whole thing sounds terrifying. And also speaking of animals Mortimer hasn't quite got the hang of the hunting thing. I mean he caught a mourning dove and it looked like it was bearing up under its death well but sort of humiliated by the presence of Marley who clearly thought Mortimer was bungling the job. Which he was-- trying to bite at it, while it was still quite alive and not finishing the bird off fast and efficiently. Feathers everywhere. All of it unsightly. And i feeling as if i'd come to late to be of any use but to shake my head at the whole state nature and the fall. I apologized to the bird all day.
Sunday, May 29, 2011
I’m over the fish tank.Why did I replace it. I don’t want to clean it. It’s a pain in the ass. Verging on an eyesore. I kind of secretly wish the fish would die peaceably and then I can be done with the whole fishy affair. But they’re so damn hardy, those five remaining fish. Ugh.
I love oak trees. Spring, fall, dead of winter – doesn’t matter. Hands down the best tree shape and really it’s my favorite ever. Oak.
I’m also an idiot. Because for a few months now I’ve been all, I would love an oak tree for the yard! Wouldn’t that be cool to watch it grow. And while I was mowing today I realized the two young trees in our backyard are oak trees. Duh. It’s kind of like the lavender discovery, only less serendipitous than stupidly obvious.
Occasionally I wonder why any of us ever have children. Okay, maybe not everyone – allegedly there are people out there who love children. I’ve seen these people. They do exist. And I wish I was one of them. I mean – I love my children. Of course I do. But half the time I don’t know what to do with them, and the other half they’re vexing me with their noise and their needs. And in-between those halves I feel like I am penning their therapy pages. Bleh. Children.
I feel like it’s probably time for a change in routine so maybe I won’t feel that way about children. Because I don’t always. Just right now, the feeling is very strong.
Bourbon and ginger isn’t bad. I’m not sure it’s awesome. I’m not drinking any right now, but I did try some yesterday evening. Much sweeter and less a chest-hair tonic than I ever imagined.
Mowing the lawn trumps vacuuming every time. I hate vacuuming. But I also hate mowing in the oppressive heat, which makes my face turn reddish-purple. In spite of how much cold water I drink. And then every member of my household harasses me about said purple face. Which annoys me. Especially having just toiled in the hot sun.
A lot of things annoy me.
I’m even annoyed by it being nearly midnight. And I feel neither sleepy nor accomplished, considering the day gone by. Many undone things loom over my head. Annoying. But that’s all I’ve got for now.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
Goodbye dear blog whom we've known for at least 5 years or more. I would go back to check but it doesn't exist anymore. It was as if... and then... So here's to you, no more to have such insight, you have faded back into time, like a star extinguished, reached us finally only years too late, and then gone.
And a heaven in a wild flower,
Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,
And eternity in an hour.... WB.
Thursday, May 26, 2011
You mentioned in your letter you had thought due to the number of ailments someone else had taken over my blog moniker. Being self-analytical and neurotic are not good combos for when one becomes sick is all i'm saying. I do not handle it well. I do not have what you would call fortitude, especially if I feel whatever brought upon me is undeserved or over the top. But this year- only 4 months in was quite a doosey? doozy? i don't know. But 1. the cold that over took my camping trip in january 2. the wretching nightmare that almost made me miss chicago 3. my dog died in march 4. the death cold of april has lead straight into the 5. plague of may. not to be outdone by anal fissures sometime between 4 and 5. All of it heralded by a malaise lasting clear in from Novemberish and reaching a bad pitch in through early spring? Well what to do. One should make a story of peppercini seeds landing in your eye- as novelists it would be symbolic for life and some ironic twist that makes you see yes, the absurd, the random pain of life, take that. But the novel is becoming literal. They'd say, that's too much. Or I'd say, I'm going to make a comedy out of it. I may get there. I may make it to the frown upside down-- if i were writing.
One will just have to wait and see. But I take your point Bruckner. It's writing in the minuitia opposed to pulling out and developing an arc. A true arc of suffering or of comedic prat falls which say something, which tell you something. It's not just throwing stones in a pit or watching someone bail water from a sinking skooner 50ft from shore. My god my character has got to learn something. There has to be some-Thing behind all of this. Something funny and a bit pathetic in the character hunched over on a wooden box with a bag of frozen corn to her back.
Don't pay attention to her self-pitying demonstrance and her pleas for attention. It won't work. It simply won't work. This girl has a pie in the face coming or she's going over the waterfall in a barrel. She just wants to make sure someone's watching. Just give her a glance out of the corner of your eye and look the other way. That'll be enough.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Because I know you’re just suffering at the moment. With your shingles. Have you tried cold compresses? Ibuprofen? Weeping silent tears?
Anyway. I’m growing out my hair – part rebellion, part fear re: new town and new hairdresser situation. Can’t go there yet. So sometimes I like to pin it up. Usually when it’s hot. Which it is, all this week. Hot and stormy.
I also saw some lightning in the sunset-sky. And heard some super-loud, house-rattling thunder that nearly gave Bailey a panic attack. Actually, it really might have been a panic attack. She’s not as young as she used to be.
Here’s my pinned up hair. And the incorrigible but fabulous K.Lo. And oh, since I’m sitting at my desk – let’s have a look at your birthday present!
I found him. Jesus, I mean.
One of these days I’ll get to the post office and you shall have him.
Here’s the dusky sky. Sadly, not the best lightning of the evening, but I did capture a bit of it nonetheless.
And now I’m going to bed.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
who wants to see pictures?
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Monday, May 16, 2011
So let’s take a deep breath and shake off the ticks.
Butterfly! The hazy background was a fortuitous accident.
Particularly when they are, shall we say…well-fed. Picture a gray jelly bean. With 8 tiny hair-like legs that continue to move even though the rest of its body is basically a blood bladder. And what I suppose could be called a face, even though its really just a proboscis that exudes pure evil.
But one fell on the floor (from who? we check the dogs constantly). And I couldn’t not take a closer look.
Also, there’s a really sick picture here. In case mine don’t do justice.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Friday, May 13, 2011
On a 13th day of May, in a faraway land that was presumably very sunny, an M was born.
I wasn’t there for all that.
I was there many years later, in a windy city, in a class of 3, sometimes 4 students, containing one mysterious personage called mendacious.
You weren’t actually called that then. That would come later.
But surely there was nothing random about this intersection of lives. I blew in and out of that windy city in under a year. And me being fully submerged in my phase of complete reticence and somewhat fearful of the world – we might not even have talked much or hung out much during that time. But it didn’t stop me from being in awe of you, the Girl Who Wanted to be an Artist. With your curious short stories about dust motes and your sketchbook that transformed into another universe under your hand. Your astounding color choices. Your black and white photographs of a gerbera daisy engulfed in flames.
One day our teacher, not unlike Glenda the Good Witch, said, “You two girls will be friends for the rest of your lives.” And I think in that moment she made it so.
This girl not yet named M pursued me. Somehow made me answer the phone. And speak. And speak more. And say truthful things, laden with snark. We emailed. She made me blog. And keep blogging. She became M, and I Pen.
M wore down the concrete that lay over my head.
Among many other things.
And today is the anniversary of the day she entered into the world.
I’m thankful for you every day, my dear! May your 35th year unfold with wonder and energy and many opportunities to inform the world of your awesomeness. For you are, truly, a gift.
Happy Birthday, Mendacious.
all my love!
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
bruckner brought up some very good points as he always does- i mean if i were talking about a journey of jobs he would be a blazing highlight and of unexpected friendships too (he shouldn't feel so left out that he's not a higher blip on the church journey- you're in there too but i just dont have the head space right now to tell that story)--
so before i continue i'll address one in an addendum as i hope he wont mind that they're in a letter to you- this pushing for freedom thing is curious and he brings up a somewhatvalid and well articulated point that i do feel some of my more ambitious friends agreeing with him and nodding vigorously. so i will not dispense my wrath just yet. the woman actually meant it in a spiritual and emotional context though and she was dead wrong as i'd been doing quite a lot to unchain and unshackle myself by the time i got to her, and she was being arrogant in assuming that because my path isn't stereotypical to the totality of spiritual health i must clearly still have ISSUES. which i don't remember being a pre-requisite for the program, to be clear of them- and if she had, in some way, meant it in the other sense she'd be wrong there to- as i was in fact risking quite a lot and pushing for something i thought on the job front would really bring me some fulfillment and i was flayed alive. there was some risk there. GAME OVER. it wasn't just school. this was going to be a future and a hope AND an adventure. and i didn't get it. i will say i've done very little in the last year since then.
now my friends who aren't me are saying yes, BUT what about everything else, and my answer to those types would be to say, then God has to change me. i'm open to it. one of the greatest things we're tyrannized by is trying to be something we are incapable of being. i wish i could be a networker. i wish i could reroute my circuitry to give a damn about quite a lot of things. do i need to guard against sloth and complacency? yes. have i fallen victim to them? totally. in addition to despair and hopelessness. but i cannot make myself into something i'm not. i dont have ambition. it would be one thing to have my sights on something as a target and walk away from it. or have completed something and stopped shy of launch out of fear. i dont think i've done that quite yet. i think the problem is i have all the pieces of what could be success and accomplishment and when jobs come across my path i apply. i walk toward them with interest if not passion. but that doesn't add up to someone who is going to be successful in a worldly sense. and its beyond frustrating to talk to people who are successful and they ultimately think, well you just didn't try hard enough. as if the millions who aren't famous actors right now, and ooze talent, oh, well it's their fault. they just didn't try. or if they did, just not long enough... and that is a total crock! my abilities do not need to translate into cash. i wish for my convenience they would but they don't need to. more on this later- there's a good essay my friend wrote about it.
also lets keep in mind what i really want to be is a wife and a mother. i would pursue that with passion in a covered wagon across the plain, if i could. i have that in my sights and i want it. and yet. and even then people will say, you're just not trying hard enough to find a husband. now that's my fault to? now, back in the day it's true i wanted to be an author and an artist. and i am those things, but even then i didn't want to be "famous"- i thought, it would be nice to be known in a circle of people, of influence for the work i do. and there i suppose is where i've failed myself but with the usual excuses of moving slow and i did in the midst, climb a volcano, and create some jewelry whilst traveling here and there. but yes, he's right penelope that i do resist change and cling to comfort. but i can't say i feel very comfortable where i'm at.
but anyway i will take it all in a good hearted, we want the best for you sort of way. there is a fine line between waiting for opportunity to fall in your lap and looking for avenues of opportunity to pursue i suppose. and i have been terribly tired of looking down the lane.
anyway pen, i've got to get breakfast as i've gone on a bit too long per usual. so we'll just have to mindmeld about amazing race commentary, swimming on monday, unexpected meetings, traveling to the airport- for now laying out, a book and maybe-- 3 things from you just came up. what are they! i must go check.
free eps are now on HULU:
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
What sort of journey'ed tale did you have in mind? Mine is boring or if not quite boring mostly of the mind. For if truly we told the tale in concrete terms I've been sitting at this same desk for nigh on 2 years or more, with some jolts that may make it onto the scheme of life but otherwise my ass is sore as my bank account poor. The rest of the tale will not be so jaunty. It's like in that episode of 'Spaced' where daisy leaves this heartfelt note and the guys both go "skip to the ennnd". Just tonight when i was complaining and danica had to go make a frittata she said, skip to the end- i realize i struggle with encapsulating. Either I am completely cryptic or completely ridiculously longwinded. and even then i feel i'm missing something.
The journey to which you may be specifically alluding has to do with The Church. As somebody who has lately been studying the redemptive gifts i was identify'ed as RULER. It confirms every bossy impulse I've ever had. More on that later- But it also confirms how wrong this one particular person was in the worst interview I've ever had when she said I was waiting for life to happen to me (rulers totally don't do this. go manifest destiny! i am however waiting for something to rule.) and my essay told her nothing about me... my essay was about institutions and Rulers have serious issues with institutions as their principle is Freedom. We may or may not have a hard time respecting covenants and God-installed leadership. And so when my primary issues were with the Church, School and Family it really should've come as no surprise. It should've actually told her a lot. (It's near the anniversary of the Massacre.) I may or may not have to keep forgiving this woman in my mind who said i wasn't ready to help people and that I had to fight harder for freedom (as if its my initiative or strength that does the doing *snarf!)
But I digress. LIkE i said. S.T.T.E.
Anyway Bruckner, here is where the story starts (in vignettes) and it goes long.
1. the 20 something mom is bathing her daughter in the sink. she loves the light from the window. the daughter to this day loves the sink and likes to sit on the lip of it. the deep cool ceramic and the mint green tile. part of the mythology the mom is creating in the daughter is telling her this story: when you were a baby i was giving you a bath and i baptised you in the name of the father, in the name of the son, and in the name of the holy ghost. she motions with her hand the cupped water spilling over the infant head. and in that moment I felt the Lord heard me. i felt the Lord claim you as His. what the mom actually means is that, it was a special moment. but all she actually does-- she touches her heart to indicate the feeling. what the daughter believes, a divine anointing.
2. when the daughter was 3 she did not like DaddyLongLegs or worse yet, JuneBugs, that haunting buzzing thwacking sound. she remembers the fear of those particular bugs in her room. and her mom said, one night you screamed out really loud, I WANT GOD! the mom knows the Lord brought her to provide for the daughter and care for her. for she's the one removed the bug. the daughter sees it as a sign that God has long been instilled upon her heart. that she knew who was the utmost boss of her bossy self. from where does my help come from?!
3. when the daughter was 6 or so she was on the toilet talking to jesus. she was really worried she didn't have jesus' forgiveness. she really really wanted to make sure he loved her and accepted her. this worry was probably not unrelated to the fear she had of never passing each grade she was in. she felt irrespective of grades that something in the inbtw time of summer- something would go horribly wrong. am i saved jesus she'd ask? she'd hope yes yes yes. please FORGIVE me jesus. please love me.
4. along the way she became really upset at the devil. she remembers singing "if the devil doesn't like it he can sit on a tack!" she doesn't remember the rest of the song but here is part of it. i think it's appropriate the girl did not remember the joy part.
Where? Down in my heart!
Where? Down in my heart!
I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart,
down in my heart
down in my heart to stay.
And if the Devil doesn't like it he can sit on a tack.
Sit on a tack.
Sit on a tack.
And if the Devil doesn't like it he can sit on a tack
Sit on a tack today.
To worship you, Oh my soul rejoice!
Take joy, my King, in what you hear
May it be a sweet, sweet sound in your ear...
Lay my life before You
How I love You
Lay my life before You
How I love You
Lay my life before You
How I love You
Sunday, May 8, 2011
My natural inclination toward a holiday like Mother’s Day is just – no. Don’t give me presents and look at me. It’s nearly as bad as my birthday. I mean, not that moms shouldn’t be celebrated, because they really, really should. It’s the hardest job there is, and you don’t even get paid. And I do know quite a range of amazing mothers, including both mine and yours. But I reject anything faked or forced, as you know, and often take serious issue with societal conventions. I’m cursed with always seeing the shadows. Anyway – all that aside, today was a good day.
I had an omelet with sliced tomato on top. I was showered with flowers to plant in the ground. Three different sorts, and they are all relatively low-maintenance and attractive to butterflies. My card made me laugh. I watched a movie I hadn’t seen before on the Wiiflix that didn’t inspire much, if any, new cynicism. I walked and hiked and got a little lost in the green, green woods for a whole hour by myself. And ordered entirely too much food by mistake at the Mexican restaurant, but what I ate (chicken-tortilla soup with rice and avocado!) was good and the rest I took home. And it was all half-price bcs of the mom thing.
Success. I’ll take those lovely moments and put them in my pocket and bring them out to reminisce over on a rainy day.
Here’s some pictures from today and also one of Bender yesterday.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Just, my new tags. My license. I got them finally. There was obviously a reason I waited well past the limits of legality. Two children. A portal to Hell itself. Who wants to go there.
It only took 3 trips, 2 separate days, 2 separate DMVs on opposite ends of the earth, 2 horrible mug shots, a McDonald’s bribe and every scrap of patience in my possession to acquire said tags and license in their correct form. And I might have snapped at one point and nearly strangled the children. It’s entirely possible. It was DMV Trip Number 3.
Whatever. Check that shiz off the moving list. CHECK!
Thursday, May 5, 2011
There was a small room and a handful of writers. I told the professor, I'm afraid I'll never write again. She dismissed it, but I wasn't reassured. Perhaps I always knew there would come a'time when my imagination would lie fallow and be heralded into a different direction-- not forever but for a long while. Maybe the next 20 years? I can't be certain.
But imagine then if you can, a field of trees I was ordered to keep watered and primed in the meantime, a whole village in fact relying upon the water irrigation and me walking a long ways to see fields wilting set off running only to find a landslide- and my hands cramping, my mouth dry, the spade broken, clawing into the dirt and rocks with the sun blazing one last time before i collapsed. And then came a small stream, just enough to revive me...we still don't know about the village though.
Or better, more closer to the truth, it was an ordinary day. The girl parked the car in the shade. She saw a friends car and thought of missing the meeting and drinking coffeebean instead. But the girl didn't like coffee bean and ultimately you know meetings, they were expecting her. Little did she know.
The girl sat in the room with a glass of water, cross-legged on the couch.
And the other one, the dark one whose spirit screamed wrath, screamed hostility, told the girl that she loved her as if that was enough to make amends when the word spoken hollow had the air of a curse- and the conflict rising up surged against the girl as she sat silent, baffled and uncomprehending.
It followed her out of the house and there was an ominous stillness to the air. Her body leaned forward hunched by the weight of something, she didn't quite know what. But it had come over her, it was trying to over take her. She knew it the next day as a tickle came down her throat, as she violently was brought to her knee on the boulevard. The jalapeno in her eye mere mockery to what was threading all around her, trying as it were to choke and expire the very light within her.
Here she stood on a precipice, the edge crumbling, the earth giving way, and down down she went scraped and bruised to a ledge overlooking the dark space of nothingness sometimes called despair.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
Alongside the back road I take to the library sometimes. So cute! The picture doesn’t really capture their awesomeness, and I admit I’m slightly disturbed by the choice of passage on the sign, if you zoom in. I see "Romans 1:27-28,” but I could be wrong. I do need bifocals as you know. Something about it gives me the shivers – like why, if you must post a verse? that one? And a slight worry re: pulling over to photograph and exclaim about said creatures. Like what kind of angry, sad soul dwells there, on the land with the baby goats.
But anyway – clouds, trees, grass and little baby goats with little horns. Love.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
How did we only do 8 posts in April? I mean it’s appalling. A bad month shouldn’t equal a reticent month, should it? Of course sometimes life is just too overwhelming to speak. But I really feel like messenger had something to do with it. The non-public portal of communication between pen & m. We truly must not deprive our reader(s).
So even though I’m spiraling into the depths of hormonal despair, I’ll post about My Very Eventful Life. I painted (with my mom’s help) the play room – flipping finally. It wasn’t just that the cave-like paneling needed to be addressed, it was that I had started to paint it cream months ago, decided I didn’t like it, purchased the sky blue, and then never did anything about it. So it was a half-painted eyesore. *shudders* Anyway, that and the magical red table and chairs. The last tabletop coat of which I just completed maybe an hour ago, and now it’s pouring, and I hope it doesn’t somehow blow onto the deck and ruin my finish. I could see that happening. Just because.
On a related note, it’s been windy for all of 2011. It’s not my location. It is just windy. I do occasionally wonder what that’s all about – and is it a portent. I suspect strongly that it is.
Tomorrow I have to clean up said paint project and somehow reattach the chair seats? Which are blue, but they work. Americana, yo. But how do they go back on? They were much easier to remove, I must say. The furniture set, I also feel worthy of mention, is an estimated 65 years old. My dad used to play under the table as a baby. Love.
I haven’t really exercised since November. Let’s be honest. No yoga. No cardio. Nothing. It’s sad. My joints and my jeans and my spirit are all feeling it. Today on a whim I took the kids on a wagon ride up and down a few hills. I felt like Rocky training in the mountains to beat the Russian. Hauling logs on my back. Rah. Seriously it the hardest damn workout I’ve done in a long while. That’s 70-some lbs. of children, you know. My heart might have taken a long while to calm down.
It’s entirely possible that I spend more time adding books to my goodreads and movies to my Netflix than I actually do reading and watching. It’s like I’m preparing for Someday, provided these luxuries and services still exist by the time I’m able to indulge for realsies. This also might be sad, but I’m not sure.
Also, I swear I need bifocals. Or reading glasses to supplement my contacts, whatever. Killer headaches. Eye strain. And bitterness. If it turns out to be true, I find it completely unfair.
And I broke my SHIFT key. Because breaking things is what I do.
I suppose that’s all for now – lest I tap myself out on words.
let’s pace ourselves
and make it a brilliant may,
In the meantime I have enjoyed the letters even if from time to time they are lost at sea or found months later clutched in the dead hands of some postal carrier in the desert. I dont know what he was doing there anyway.
I would say more but given our state this seems quite a lot, so why push it eh? The usual going to shower, go to pasadena, try not to complain about the lack of digestive enzymes in my bowels still applies for the day to day operations of me. Oh and I finished quilting phase1.
Chat you later.
Sunday, May 1, 2011