Hello old-same,
#firstworldproblems: So I've also been behind on blogging LoCo and yesterday said, Today is the Day, Going to Get it Done, but then ran into all sorts of technological roadblocks that are making me bitter. Like why does it have to be so hard, considering how "easy" it's all become. Or probably I'm making it too complicated, but ALL I WANT TO DO is a) upload photos b) arrange them in the order I want and c) caption them adequately, so as to tell enough of the story. And yet. Five hours later and I've gotten nowhere with Wordpress and its crapola setup. I could blame this all on my geriatrically slow PC, but even then, I'm finding the whole platform inadequate, and Blogger's hardly better.
But it also could be my impatient/restless/slightly bitchy about everything mood.
Which will pass in a few days or so.
They're cutting down more trees up the street, which is going to change my landscape again. DareIsay ruin the view, again, but obviously I'll eventually get used to it. I just hope that in fact our property line does extend into the trees, because whoever the tree-chopper is, they seem reckless and voracious and hellbent on total destruction. I suppose it makes them a lot of money. Or actually, this tree-chopper up the street may be completely different than the other neighborhood tree-chopper, who is in it solely for the wood-money, whereas this person could just be clearing land to build another home. Because they're aren't like 10 for sale already? There are. Ugh. People.
The fish tank and I came to a head in our long-standing passive aggressive battle yesterday, wherein I've failed to periodically clear its filter buildup and also may have scooted it too close to the wall or something, because it looked like it was sticking out too far, randomly, and the thing leaked onto the wall and onto some books and well, now I'll really have to paint the living room in the fall, if it weren't already on the list. And I put the books out to dry in the sun, and then forgot to bring them in when it started raining. "Carrie" has taken the worst hit, and all three are mass media paperbacks that are highly accessible at used book sales, so I'm not overly sad about it, but still. D'oh. Duh. It's like when I took some ibuprofen from the bottle this weekend and apparently failed to replace the top and inadvertently booby-trapped the thing for the next person, who spilled hundreds of pills everywhere. And I have no recollection of doing that, whatsoever. But it doesn't seem out of line with my recently very flaky character. And I haven't been particularly offended by this personal shortcoming, either, is the funny thing. I'm like - oh, I did that? Hum. Really? it does sound right... oops. I'm sorry, J.Lo. Shrug! And then I just move on to forgetting the next thing.
The west coast succulents all seem happy in their various new containers, but it's only been two days and who knows. However, I will say the succulents in the Easter Garden thrived the most, possibly on neglect. Although some magical person has been taking care of it regularly - but low light and little water and indoor living, they seem to love. And generally, less attention.
I've had a few weird recent dreams, surely media inspired, as Orange is the New Black - which is yes, occasionally uplifting but also raw and funny and dark and light - and its intense prison narrative seemed to have led to a scene in the Chicago dorms lobby, wherein a resident argued with the security desk, and the disagreement culminated in a microwave cooked roast being flung while the resident screamed. I have no idea. And then the escape from Pakistan dream, but clearly that was influenced by watching Argo, which was Iran, but still.
Today so far has been: Kindergarten screening for N.Lo, who wore his new red sneakers and "did AWESOME," in his own words. And the rest of the day holds: catchup to you and Cath on our book and our notes, more notes on my Giant Book of Parameters, some cleanup here and there, possibly some handbells (or maybe I'll just skip and go Wednesday), some pondering of life and taking in the delightful breeze. And a pie. Maybe it's time to make PIE.
xoxox
penelaotang
Monday, July 29, 2013
Monday, July 22, 2013
same/same,
I like that you phrase love as lack of control. It makes me look at it over and over again. Trying to remember my own words as it were. I think back to this conclusion and I think of my dog Bodo. Ever loving with those sad soul-filled eyes. Glorious.
There was a moment of sitting with him on the bench where I understood the root of my anger- and it wasn't love. It was control. I wanted things my way, the exact way, the right way. Not that my anger was all wrongly ordered- i can and was rightfully (righteously) angry about a lot of things. But with him- to expect certain things of this willful creature just wasn't realistic, and i was setting us up for failure. And then later with a particular friend I was constantly counseling at the time the absolute frustrated rage i would get in when they wouldn't take my advice. And it wasn't that I was wrong. But it didn't matter. Right or Wrong. It didn't make them see or hear. And that's when I shifted again to the concept of the heart- and how God is the one who has to bring the change. None of us on are own can. It's tyrannizing. Good habits help I'm sure. Relinquishing control and perfection bit by bit- knowing when to fight for it or let the hems be crooked on the curtains and knowing i can as soome 12steps must say I can only change what i can change, and the rest is in God's hands. Perfection is a sonofabitch though- that goes for how we want the world to be, we say it's for it to be better- but "better" in what sense? and for whom? Obviously it doesn't negate action but it humbles it. I think puts it in its proper- this is your plot of land- this is your actual neighbor- sort of space.
You need to listen to the Keller sermon- because he talks about Anger as an aspect of Love- not the antithesis of it. But that it points to what we love. And that because of sin our love and thus our anger is sometimes disordered. As in not in the right place. It's good fodder for thoughtstuff. I found the concept to be the next fun avenue to venture down about anger- but yes- love is surrender. it's that heady dying to yourself- i will not hold onto this- it isn't mine. Hummm. Good stuff.
anyway -
Orange is the new - no. Is it a positive show? What's the sitch on it- i mean jail right? obviously? And then what?
Fake funerals = awesome.
Tomato blight = no bueno. It reminds me of the poor pumpkin harvests we've had the last 5+ years.
Pro-run - yea zacposen!
and - mental vacuum.
at church is just constant family politic negotiating- oh and the amazing coffee which tastes like butterscotch. so i had my fill of that until my stomach was eating itself. and as everyone - all those extroverted greeters were like- how are you? i replied with "driving rain"... and then said "well i do have an umbrella. so it's not all bad." and i managed to floor him/the greeter/ as he actually said, thank you for that thoughtful response, and then spoke in my language to say that he hoped that it would clear later in the day and that the sun would come out. i found articulating my day with various weather conditions to be the best so far for me in fighting my i will not lie or non-respond.
oh and mom is all bit by bit moving out- one sheet bundle of stuff at a time. as she has things to hang in her closet now. nice. like rods and a few shelves? well we have to start somewhere.
things to look forward to = finished painting, 2 finished necklaces, possibly batting cages. hanging curtains, various things in rooms... these are actually things to do but we'll see about momentum.
off to kill evil,
xo m.
There was a moment of sitting with him on the bench where I understood the root of my anger- and it wasn't love. It was control. I wanted things my way, the exact way, the right way. Not that my anger was all wrongly ordered- i can and was rightfully (righteously) angry about a lot of things. But with him- to expect certain things of this willful creature just wasn't realistic, and i was setting us up for failure. And then later with a particular friend I was constantly counseling at the time the absolute frustrated rage i would get in when they wouldn't take my advice. And it wasn't that I was wrong. But it didn't matter. Right or Wrong. It didn't make them see or hear. And that's when I shifted again to the concept of the heart- and how God is the one who has to bring the change. None of us on are own can. It's tyrannizing. Good habits help I'm sure. Relinquishing control and perfection bit by bit- knowing when to fight for it or let the hems be crooked on the curtains and knowing i can as soome 12steps must say I can only change what i can change, and the rest is in God's hands. Perfection is a sonofabitch though- that goes for how we want the world to be, we say it's for it to be better- but "better" in what sense? and for whom? Obviously it doesn't negate action but it humbles it. I think puts it in its proper- this is your plot of land- this is your actual neighbor- sort of space.
You need to listen to the Keller sermon- because he talks about Anger as an aspect of Love- not the antithesis of it. But that it points to what we love. And that because of sin our love and thus our anger is sometimes disordered. As in not in the right place. It's good fodder for thoughtstuff. I found the concept to be the next fun avenue to venture down about anger- but yes- love is surrender. it's that heady dying to yourself- i will not hold onto this- it isn't mine. Hummm. Good stuff.
anyway -
Orange is the new - no. Is it a positive show? What's the sitch on it- i mean jail right? obviously? And then what?
Fake funerals = awesome.
Tomato blight = no bueno. It reminds me of the poor pumpkin harvests we've had the last 5+ years.
Pro-run - yea zacposen!
and - mental vacuum.
at church is just constant family politic negotiating- oh and the amazing coffee which tastes like butterscotch. so i had my fill of that until my stomach was eating itself. and as everyone - all those extroverted greeters were like- how are you? i replied with "driving rain"... and then said "well i do have an umbrella. so it's not all bad." and i managed to floor him/the greeter/ as he actually said, thank you for that thoughtful response, and then spoke in my language to say that he hoped that it would clear later in the day and that the sun would come out. i found articulating my day with various weather conditions to be the best so far for me in fighting my i will not lie or non-respond.
oh and mom is all bit by bit moving out- one sheet bundle of stuff at a time. as she has things to hang in her closet now. nice. like rods and a few shelves? well we have to start somewhere.
things to look forward to = finished painting, 2 finished necklaces, possibly batting cages. hanging curtains, various things in rooms... these are actually things to do but we'll see about momentum.
off to kill evil,
xo m.
Sunday, July 21, 2013
old-samey,
I was able to watch ProRun online like you said - and today found the right app, so score for next week. Since my computer finds tasks like streaming apparently insurmountable, and it's all choppy and mind-boggling as it plays and I have to read the Ginormous Book of Preschool Parameters and take notes while watching to curb my hostility toward technological deficiency. Anyway, HOW DID THE VAG-DROP GUY NOT GO HOME? And not even in the bottom two! That outfit was beyond heinous, with or without the unfortunate shortness. Also, even though I suppose the cut girl needed pants, I'm overly partial to hoodies and so that look was one of my favorites.
Zac Posen jumped several notches in my book with the sex-toy-for-a-cat comment. #channelingMichaelKors
I love the idea of the three of us starting a new job/chapter in September! Each of us in our own separate worlds but journeying together. I feel like a job at an art school would suit you perfectly. Or maybe overseas again? Speaking of Korea I ran across this article about fake funerals being popular lately in SK and I meant to click but then didn't.
The days are filled with a thousand distractions over which I'm only occasionally bitter. I mean I do get a little resentful when there doesn't seem to be time to even get in a few exercises while watching something mindless on Netflix or to read my mindless book about girls sentenced to picking peaches for a summer. Rather than being summoned over several hours to help a child excavate her room. And breaking it down to specific, singular directed tasks and still having to repeat those 12 times. My hair is still attached to my head at the end of the day, so. Success?
Oh and then the other day. K.Lo's ears got a little infected post-6 weeks, with all the changing into new pairs and whatnot. And we were traveling and I kind of knew there would eventually be a scene. So we did triple antibiotic and let them rest and I crossed my fingers and said a little prayer the things would heal up fast and all would be fine. But no. Recreating the holes had to occur. There haven't been many times or maybe any in which I've felt like a murderer, but re-piercing the ears of that tiny poetic soul was one. And I flashed back to my own forced re-piercing and the word KARMA wouldn't leave my brain.
I mean.
Holyshitpassthebourbon.
I'm wicked behind on the book discussion, won't look at the notes for 4 until I'm done reading, but I feel like I'll catch up all in a day, 5 included, before Cath goes to sodak, and all will be equalized. One thing I keep returning to that you said at the end of a long thought, about love almost being a lack of control - FASCINATING. I had unrelatedly been pondering lately the idea of all anger being rooted in control and ooo let's connect those dots if we can.
Whatelse. Besides that some details of last week's excursion aren't bloggable so I'll have to e you. Are you watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix? Because that's way brilliant. J.Lo's on a 13-day heavy steroid treatment for the pinched sciatic nerve and we're hoping that will... do something. Anything? That would be great. Because it's been about a month at Pain Level: Excruciating. The fish tank needs new inhabitants again - it's a little depressing in there admittedly, but I mostly don't think about it. (Sad?) I'm going blueberry picking on Tuesday! And then canning a batch of Mom's tomatoes. Every year I say it will be my tomatoes that I'll can but so far that hasn't happened yet. Garden Soil Year 3. Should we put our money on it? Although to be fair we are all battling Tomato Blight this year, which is formidable and unconquerable and a bummer.
On to devising a topic for my next magazine deadline, or somesuch.
love,
penelope.
Zac Posen jumped several notches in my book with the sex-toy-for-a-cat comment. #channelingMichaelKors
I love the idea of the three of us starting a new job/chapter in September! Each of us in our own separate worlds but journeying together. I feel like a job at an art school would suit you perfectly. Or maybe overseas again? Speaking of Korea I ran across this article about fake funerals being popular lately in SK and I meant to click but then didn't.
The days are filled with a thousand distractions over which I'm only occasionally bitter. I mean I do get a little resentful when there doesn't seem to be time to even get in a few exercises while watching something mindless on Netflix or to read my mindless book about girls sentenced to picking peaches for a summer. Rather than being summoned over several hours to help a child excavate her room. And breaking it down to specific, singular directed tasks and still having to repeat those 12 times. My hair is still attached to my head at the end of the day, so. Success?
Oh and then the other day. K.Lo's ears got a little infected post-6 weeks, with all the changing into new pairs and whatnot. And we were traveling and I kind of knew there would eventually be a scene. So we did triple antibiotic and let them rest and I crossed my fingers and said a little prayer the things would heal up fast and all would be fine. But no. Recreating the holes had to occur. There haven't been many times or maybe any in which I've felt like a murderer, but re-piercing the ears of that tiny poetic soul was one. And I flashed back to my own forced re-piercing and the word KARMA wouldn't leave my brain.
I mean.
Holyshitpassthebourbon.
I'm wicked behind on the book discussion, won't look at the notes for 4 until I'm done reading, but I feel like I'll catch up all in a day, 5 included, before Cath goes to sodak, and all will be equalized. One thing I keep returning to that you said at the end of a long thought, about love almost being a lack of control - FASCINATING. I had unrelatedly been pondering lately the idea of all anger being rooted in control and ooo let's connect those dots if we can.
Whatelse. Besides that some details of last week's excursion aren't bloggable so I'll have to e you. Are you watching Orange is the New Black on Netflix? Because that's way brilliant. J.Lo's on a 13-day heavy steroid treatment for the pinched sciatic nerve and we're hoping that will... do something. Anything? That would be great. Because it's been about a month at Pain Level: Excruciating. The fish tank needs new inhabitants again - it's a little depressing in there admittedly, but I mostly don't think about it. (Sad?) I'm going blueberry picking on Tuesday! And then canning a batch of Mom's tomatoes. Every year I say it will be my tomatoes that I'll can but so far that hasn't happened yet. Garden Soil Year 3. Should we put our money on it? Although to be fair we are all battling Tomato Blight this year, which is formidable and unconquerable and a bummer.
On to devising a topic for my next magazine deadline, or somesuch.
love,
penelope.
Friday, July 19, 2013
old-same,
By chance i came across the premiere of project runway. As the only things i seem to come across now adays is say yes to the dress and antiques roadshow. I find by and large nothing else appealing. And i did like the concept of parachutes as an unconventional design but most designers hardly did a thing with them, along with the occassional nutter and disaster piece. IN my mind it was suppose to premiere in August.
But then for the first time in years (possibly ever) I missed my car registration payment having thought for some reason it was on the 14th. No the 8th. Also I've given charge of Lolly to mom as I can't afford her or the July $1037 pricetag I owed for all the bells and whistles combined. And apparently I had to get her smogged? Whatever that is about. Conspiracy abounds. As if paying $28-$60 for something the government is making you do... Nevermind. I ultimately didn't pay for it anyway. I mean thank the Lord Jesus I have a mom who is my mom and no other kind of mom. I would still however like to be able to afford to exist in LA. But apparently not enough to hustle. You know what i mean. I'm not totally adverse to going to back to Korea. I guess? Maybe ironically when I finish moving the parents. I'm hoping God will work some miracles in the meantime.
Yesterday I fought through some seriously searing daggers whipping through my mind in the a.m. to rally and actually write a cover letter and application and submit it. I even went so far as to call the HR department prior to it. I do not jest when I say even opening up a job site makes me passively suicidal. And other people who do not struggle with how dark the dark can get or are constantly employed don't really get it i dont think. Like, I wish i was being melodramatic. Anyway it's for a prop supervisor who has to hire a staff of 20 student volunteers? And only gets paid $14 p/hr. Such is the sign of the times. But i like objects and it would be for an art school.
Any "productive" thing I did on top of that was just aces. And any less productive thing inconsequential.
You and cath are starting jobs in September. It would be nice to do the same I feel. In a show of solidarity.... and as i drink my 2nd cup of coffee there was something about bruckner hearing from God i thought. Some near death experience? But back to coffee- i have to use 4 scoops to make this trader joe batch i got worth anything close to something i can taste. And in such an ironic LA turn the best coffee there is - it's free and it's at my church. Not the best of the best. But at least the 2nd. It tastes like butterscotch. It's written up to be one of the best and because of the work of this guy named Bob is why we have it at our church in the first place... if it's not the sermons or the people by Gods good grace it will be the coffee that got me to go to church. What a change! If my 8 year old self could see me now!
Meanwhile Marley my cat- who in people years is at least 118 and 19 in cat years, keeps yowling in senility and sometimes laziness and sometimes hunger which drives me a little nuts and is annoying until i remind myself he might not remember where he is and that's distressing with his bad hips and his general oldalpha surlyness. It's funny to see in contrast Twist and her mewing- who is trying to see what her different calls yield- if i mew here will she open the door? open the window? give me a treat? pet me? It's pretty adorable. Ah the life of human to cat relations.
Otherwise i'm pleased that my nails are almost returned to their nonwrecked state. Hope for the future and all that- alright i'm going to go play some teamdeathmatchesonxbox and later my ch4response on the meaning of marriage. Que: sigh heavily at this singlesadstate.
m.
KEEP CALM & CARRY ON
(poster from the govt. as seen on antiques roadshow-uk edition worth 900pounds)
But then for the first time in years (possibly ever) I missed my car registration payment having thought for some reason it was on the 14th. No the 8th. Also I've given charge of Lolly to mom as I can't afford her or the July $1037 pricetag I owed for all the bells and whistles combined. And apparently I had to get her smogged? Whatever that is about. Conspiracy abounds. As if paying $28-$60 for something the government is making you do... Nevermind. I ultimately didn't pay for it anyway. I mean thank the Lord Jesus I have a mom who is my mom and no other kind of mom. I would still however like to be able to afford to exist in LA. But apparently not enough to hustle. You know what i mean. I'm not totally adverse to going to back to Korea. I guess? Maybe ironically when I finish moving the parents. I'm hoping God will work some miracles in the meantime.
Yesterday I fought through some seriously searing daggers whipping through my mind in the a.m. to rally and actually write a cover letter and application and submit it. I even went so far as to call the HR department prior to it. I do not jest when I say even opening up a job site makes me passively suicidal. And other people who do not struggle with how dark the dark can get or are constantly employed don't really get it i dont think. Like, I wish i was being melodramatic. Anyway it's for a prop supervisor who has to hire a staff of 20 student volunteers? And only gets paid $14 p/hr. Such is the sign of the times. But i like objects and it would be for an art school.
Any "productive" thing I did on top of that was just aces. And any less productive thing inconsequential.
You and cath are starting jobs in September. It would be nice to do the same I feel. In a show of solidarity.... and as i drink my 2nd cup of coffee there was something about bruckner hearing from God i thought. Some near death experience? But back to coffee- i have to use 4 scoops to make this trader joe batch i got worth anything close to something i can taste. And in such an ironic LA turn the best coffee there is - it's free and it's at my church. Not the best of the best. But at least the 2nd. It tastes like butterscotch. It's written up to be one of the best and because of the work of this guy named Bob is why we have it at our church in the first place... if it's not the sermons or the people by Gods good grace it will be the coffee that got me to go to church. What a change! If my 8 year old self could see me now!
Meanwhile Marley my cat- who in people years is at least 118 and 19 in cat years, keeps yowling in senility and sometimes laziness and sometimes hunger which drives me a little nuts and is annoying until i remind myself he might not remember where he is and that's distressing with his bad hips and his general oldalpha surlyness. It's funny to see in contrast Twist and her mewing- who is trying to see what her different calls yield- if i mew here will she open the door? open the window? give me a treat? pet me? It's pretty adorable. Ah the life of human to cat relations.
Otherwise i'm pleased that my nails are almost returned to their nonwrecked state. Hope for the future and all that- alright i'm going to go play some teamdeathmatchesonxbox and later my ch4response on the meaning of marriage. Que: sigh heavily at this singlesadstate.
m.
KEEP CALM & CARRY ON
(poster from the govt. as seen on antiques roadshow-uk edition worth 900pounds)
Friday, July 12, 2013
lao-tang,
The puppy sleeps next to me; the pool is being refilled. It's relatively cooler today than usual from storms. Which I love, because the heat can suck it. Yesterday I spent the day cleaning out a craft supply room for church and discussing my new THREE'S classroom, which is going to be completely overhauled before I start in Sept. Which is a good thing: currently, think dingy white paint, old awful yellow trim, out-of-date circus curtains. Lots of clutter. It will be: no curtains, all white trim, wall color TBD. And organized however we say, at least in accordance to the Big Honking Manual I also took home yesterday. Which is simultaneously completely overwhelming to the point of maniacal laughter - all these nitpicky regulations to establish "quality!" Geez. But also kind of helpful to someone such as myself starting completely from scratch. It's a giant Book O' Parameters, with which I can totally deal. And welcome in a lot of ways, because a direction is good, very very good. And later when I've gotten a handle on it all, I'll totally mock its nitpickiness as begged.
I don't know if you're still mad at me, or wounded, or _____. I will say that intent is completely important to me and shouldn't be disregarded. Certainly you must express your hurt feelings and so you have. I take listening prayer and your practice of it seriously enough that I wouldn't pretend to love it or connect with it just to spare your feelings. I appreciate the freedom to not love something and express that, too. My apologies if that manner of expression was hurtful, although it was more a self-mockery or commentary on my own lack of connection. But maybe too flip. I will also put out there as an intending-to-be objective observation that with ministry, perhaps it's important to meet a person on their level, considering personal style, personality type, etc. There is the element of challenging a person to stretch themselves, too. But then, how fine a line is that, particularly when the person is already stretched to the point of snapping anyminutenow. I know you're looking at a different side of the elephant and seeing your own version of truth while I see mine. Maybe yours is more about sharing and opening up when mine is that it's shutting me down. I suppose we either inch toward each other's truths to at least see what the other sees, or we move on to a different creature.
Like books. Did I dust you? When I posted notes for chapter 3, it wasn't to leave anyone out; I sort of just did it to do it and figured there'd be email catchup whenever each person had finished the chapter. Kind of like when we watch ProRun and say okay - read this email full of my commentary after you've watched, too.
Anyway I'm glad it's a Friday with nowhere to be. Tomorrow, earring shopping with K.Lo, who is at her milestone 6 weeks. And an oil change, yawn. Monday, some travel. Which I suppose means Sunday, some packing. Oof. But onto the most pressing item du jour, which is cleaning up the disaster pit down the hall, also known as K.Lo's room.
xoxox
I don't know if you're still mad at me, or wounded, or _____. I will say that intent is completely important to me and shouldn't be disregarded. Certainly you must express your hurt feelings and so you have. I take listening prayer and your practice of it seriously enough that I wouldn't pretend to love it or connect with it just to spare your feelings. I appreciate the freedom to not love something and express that, too. My apologies if that manner of expression was hurtful, although it was more a self-mockery or commentary on my own lack of connection. But maybe too flip. I will also put out there as an intending-to-be objective observation that with ministry, perhaps it's important to meet a person on their level, considering personal style, personality type, etc. There is the element of challenging a person to stretch themselves, too. But then, how fine a line is that, particularly when the person is already stretched to the point of snapping anyminutenow. I know you're looking at a different side of the elephant and seeing your own version of truth while I see mine. Maybe yours is more about sharing and opening up when mine is that it's shutting me down. I suppose we either inch toward each other's truths to at least see what the other sees, or we move on to a different creature.
Like books. Did I dust you? When I posted notes for chapter 3, it wasn't to leave anyone out; I sort of just did it to do it and figured there'd be email catchup whenever each person had finished the chapter. Kind of like when we watch ProRun and say okay - read this email full of my commentary after you've watched, too.
Anyway I'm glad it's a Friday with nowhere to be. Tomorrow, earring shopping with K.Lo, who is at her milestone 6 weeks. And an oil change, yawn. Monday, some travel. Which I suppose means Sunday, some packing. Oof. But onto the most pressing item du jour, which is cleaning up the disaster pit down the hall, also known as K.Lo's room.
xoxox
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
well good morning
I do so love being told off to start my day. Not everyone associates Ouija playing with demons, firstly, and my comment was merely to say that I, personally, don't feel grounded enough within listening prayer to practice it myself. I feel like I, personally, am playing a game rather than connecting to it. I did not intend for this comment to incite a complete spiral into hurt and disrespected descent. Let me clarify that I respect your level of faith and the way you practice it, I appreciated deeply your opening that door and your ministry through you and the others you asked to listen-pray on my behalf. I in no way meant to trivialize your practice. Or convey anything less than what 13 years of your friendship means to me. I meant a plain and simple, I can't right now. Just me.
that's all for now.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
lao-tong
i more than disagree- if disagree means "no". what i feel about equating what i've spent the last 5 years of my life doing with a demonic and/or occasionally hoax like farcical practice that is the ouiji board, can be more accurately described as slightly offended with a main course of that hurts my heart. granted you're not out right telling me to fuckoff, and i appreciate the honesty which is why how can i possibly rail- that's where you're at. it's what you're feeling. i mean yes, i would remind you that the words my mom got and prayed for you weren't demonic, or made up or entirely hers, and they seemed at the time to minister to you- but maybe i misunderstood. i mean leave me out of it entirely and I know God will continue to minister and care for you, but it is a way to cultivate a deeper relationship with God, and it's true i have to resist control, but let me just acknowledge the divide it creates, and the disappointment over something that can't be shared and infact in an instant is being rejected. It hurts. Also though it may not seem like it- since i am seen as a usually very forceful person- sharing something like that with you, and trying to open the door to a large part of my life and going so far as to practice it with you was me being vulnerable-- and excited and expectant.
And that's my own balloon, and the air escaping it and whining out. So I have to take responsibility for it. And that's not yours. But as you sit with your anxiety and worry over the unnamed things. I sit with mine as well for you, on your behalf, along with my ownbags on the curb. And that is not just entirely yours. I see the trapped and fluttering distressed thing. I share it with you because I love and care for you. Our stories are never are own. They reach out beyond us. As they should. They are not for us. We cannot accurately see ourselves anyway. We are all entwined. And that speaks just as much to covenant and community too. A book apparently i am already a chapter behind on.
Currently, unrelated, i managed to make a necklace. I take this as major breakthrough, and I hope tricia likes it. Besides we are being assailed with hot weather. I'm drinking an unpleasant blackberry jasmine tea or some such and i'm going to go watch the end of miss marple's 'a murder announced', and just the other night a giant raccoon snuck in the backdoor to eat the cat food. The nerve. I wonder if he's what's killing our lawn. A giant spreading patch.
Otherwise the bedframe is 1/2 stained. The room is 1/2 done along with everything else everywhere. But it seems like it's getting on. With every hedge i trim, and angel trumpet i manage to plant. Seems like something is happening. The peaches are delicious. And the abandoned bags of grapefruit in my car make it smell really good. And i did almost cry when danica wondered where all my dresses had got to, but i can only assume God has ones that fit me in store for me. Or he doesn't- and i'll have to make do.
Good night dear friend. Goodnight.
m.
And that's my own balloon, and the air escaping it and whining out. So I have to take responsibility for it. And that's not yours. But as you sit with your anxiety and worry over the unnamed things. I sit with mine as well for you, on your behalf, along with my ownbags on the curb. And that is not just entirely yours. I see the trapped and fluttering distressed thing. I share it with you because I love and care for you. Our stories are never are own. They reach out beyond us. As they should. They are not for us. We cannot accurately see ourselves anyway. We are all entwined. And that speaks just as much to covenant and community too. A book apparently i am already a chapter behind on.
Currently, unrelated, i managed to make a necklace. I take this as major breakthrough, and I hope tricia likes it. Besides we are being assailed with hot weather. I'm drinking an unpleasant blackberry jasmine tea or some such and i'm going to go watch the end of miss marple's 'a murder announced', and just the other night a giant raccoon snuck in the backdoor to eat the cat food. The nerve. I wonder if he's what's killing our lawn. A giant spreading patch.
Otherwise the bedframe is 1/2 stained. The room is 1/2 done along with everything else everywhere. But it seems like it's getting on. With every hedge i trim, and angel trumpet i manage to plant. Seems like something is happening. The peaches are delicious. And the abandoned bags of grapefruit in my car make it smell really good. And i did almost cry when danica wondered where all my dresses had got to, but i can only assume God has ones that fit me in store for me. Or he doesn't- and i'll have to make do.
Good night dear friend. Goodnight.
m.
Monday, July 8, 2013
allo allo
Welcome to the summery days of little peace. Last night K.Lo had a sleepover and I was smart this time about ending it early today on a good note, rather than dragging it out to the point of (my) insanity. They always wake up a little off-kilter and before you know it, not only is the puppy across the street with her eff-you-I-can't-hear-you ears on, but one child is being bopped by another with an inner tube and screaming ensues. Be kind, people, be kind. And wear shoes while bike-riding, and a helmet too.
I feel like it's been forever since my last correspondence, although I continue to write you letters in my mind and wonder why you don't receive them. Have we not worked out all the bugs in our telepathy program yet? They keep landing in your eyes, I think! The dead ant was horrifying, by the way, and the whole peach-picking attack. What an insult! Kind of like the epic battle with fruit flies I've been fighting in both the kitchen and my car, not to mention the miniscule ants and that terrible winged thing I saw by the sink this morning. Oh, July.
I'd say it's my least favorite month, and maybe it is, but not really. There' are always silver linings, such as an almost anonymous ninja's visit! Which rocked. Although I hope we weren't too grumpy for her. J.Lo's sciatic nerve is fully pinched and its pain and inconvenience continue to radiate through all of us. However, we all enjoyed a lot of downtime and some driveway fireworks along with water balloon target practice. And some mini-tours through town.
The white and purple calla lilies are blooming and the brown-eyed susans have unfurled. But don't clip those and arrange in a pitcher, as they will soon become wilty and sad. Not unlike myself in the humid-blanket-like heat. We're drawing straws on who gets to mow the front yard (I think I lost). I'll be taking care of that at dusk.
Also my shipment of succulents (THANK YOUUUUU!!!) has taken up temporary home on the back pork, where they're growing roots before planting. I have a location all picked out, on the previously overlooked side-porch, although I might have to play puppy police there for awhile. Because some furry creatures have destructive agendas toward new plantings. Their names rhyme with Loafie, even though she is anything but.
I haven't been Listening. I know. I'm not sure it's for me, like I can't help feeling like I'm playing on a Ouija board, though I know you'd completely disagree. But my mind just can't accommodate its possibilities at the moment. Too full. Too worried. To which you'd say, duh, it's the perfect time then. But I have to go about it in my own way, right now. (Uh-oh, I can already hear you railing in response!)
But I do feel like, in spite of my resistance to the marriage book, I'm learning some things or absorbing some ideas anyway, about love. The daily work of love-as-action, in spite of what you're feeling. Important not only as a spouse, but as parent, friend, teacher. And yet sometimes so hard to execute...
I hope you spot your fish soon, little pelican. Let's phone-chat soon!
xoxox
pen
Dear Penelope,
I've been waiting by the post everyday so I don't know if your letters have been delayed, did you get mine, or if you received my last care package? But it does finally occur to me to write and ask instead of just experiencing the vacuous sucking sound of silence. And make judgments there in which are tied to my rather tenuous mental state. Of which, usually center around me and are never good.
I am curious if Bruckner has been experiencing God lately and if you, besides the book on marriage and the most hilarious email by cath, have any listening prayer thoughts of late, and perhaps you have had some interesting conversations to share? We should do more. Perhaps you could listen on mybehalf? I have been walking the block as mentioned in a prayerful non slavetraffiking way. And still wondering about 2wks till impending financial doom. Maybe I was wrong to be a pelican this entire time, expecting to see a fish and diving. How does one really live that way? Though I am reminded when even Nordstrom Rack didn't want to hire me. So it's not like I haven't tried the non-pelican way.
And of course yesterday was the great ant incident of 2013. Where upon I was attacked by something whilst picking grapefruit. I bent down scrunching up my left eye, gropping for the water faucet handle, wrenching it open and finding the spout- aimed the stream of water to flush whatever IT was out. I felt better. My vision returned. I finished picking grapefruit, slightly worse for wear but then I thought well, the peaches are ready for harvest aren't they- so i begin to pick peaches. Something even bigger hits my right eye- and i can't blink that eye, so if it's shut so is my left. Again my body doubles over, my arms flail out for balance and i find the faucet, wrench it open, grab the spout and flush out my right eye, over and over. Now my hair is wet, my shoes are soaked and my vision blurred. I stumble dripping inside. The fruit is now by the door, i decide no to make up because of the eye trauma- i pin my dress in using safety pins because it's too big and like a haggard doll i make my way to church. I have three separate people pray for me- it seems to effect me not at all. I eat a tommy's burger which has pickles, tomatos, chili and onions on it. You know the one- its right there off Hollywood blvd and Canyon Dr. And i make my way home. I feel my eye twinge as I sit composing an email and i grab the mirror and pull my lower right eye lid down- and there is this dead black thing in my eye still- i wash it out- and look at it- an ant. A few hours later i'm in the bathroom shaking my head over the day and i lean in to look at my left eye- crusted over and in the nose corner is another dead ant which i bring closer with a wipe of my index finger. Now throughly traumatized i retire for the rest of the day.
i mean what are the chances?
m.
I am curious if Bruckner has been experiencing God lately and if you, besides the book on marriage and the most hilarious email by cath, have any listening prayer thoughts of late, and perhaps you have had some interesting conversations to share? We should do more. Perhaps you could listen on mybehalf? I have been walking the block as mentioned in a prayerful non slavetraffiking way. And still wondering about 2wks till impending financial doom. Maybe I was wrong to be a pelican this entire time, expecting to see a fish and diving. How does one really live that way? Though I am reminded when even Nordstrom Rack didn't want to hire me. So it's not like I haven't tried the non-pelican way.
And of course yesterday was the great ant incident of 2013. Where upon I was attacked by something whilst picking grapefruit. I bent down scrunching up my left eye, gropping for the water faucet handle, wrenching it open and finding the spout- aimed the stream of water to flush whatever IT was out. I felt better. My vision returned. I finished picking grapefruit, slightly worse for wear but then I thought well, the peaches are ready for harvest aren't they- so i begin to pick peaches. Something even bigger hits my right eye- and i can't blink that eye, so if it's shut so is my left. Again my body doubles over, my arms flail out for balance and i find the faucet, wrench it open, grab the spout and flush out my right eye, over and over. Now my hair is wet, my shoes are soaked and my vision blurred. I stumble dripping inside. The fruit is now by the door, i decide no to make up because of the eye trauma- i pin my dress in using safety pins because it's too big and like a haggard doll i make my way to church. I have three separate people pray for me- it seems to effect me not at all. I eat a tommy's burger which has pickles, tomatos, chili and onions on it. You know the one- its right there off Hollywood blvd and Canyon Dr. And i make my way home. I feel my eye twinge as I sit composing an email and i grab the mirror and pull my lower right eye lid down- and there is this dead black thing in my eye still- i wash it out- and look at it- an ant. A few hours later i'm in the bathroom shaking my head over the day and i lean in to look at my left eye- crusted over and in the nose corner is another dead ant which i bring closer with a wipe of my index finger. Now throughly traumatized i retire for the rest of the day.
i mean what are the chances?
m.
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