Let me preface this by saying - I archive almost all of my nonjunk email, like letters and pictures from family, friends, even the little bits and pieces of conversation, just because and just in case. But as far as the actual inbox is concerned, ideally it is kept neat and clean. Then when the little smartphone arrived on the scene last year, and as the computer because more and more decrepit (I'm cursing it for its incompetence as we speak), I fell behind in my archiving. Like, way behind, to the point of I Give Up behind. There were over 1,000 non-archived emails weighing down my inbox and my shoulders when finally, the other day, I found a solution via google to bulk archive through a simple filter. At first it didn't work, but then I switched something and it did work! In a matter of seconds, poof! Emails archived, chaotic unarchived weight from shoulders lifted.
But then, today it occurred to me - why it took 2 or 3 days to dawn on me, I do not know - that no longer were any new emails coming through. No "I'm back in the country, how are you?" emails from mom, no prodding,"hey, what are you doing, tell me MORE!" messages from mendacious. No articles from my coworker I said I'd edit and she said she'd send? Hmm. Except, oops, they were there, just not in my inbox. Automatically archived. So, wtf? I don't even know how to fix that, and do admit to feeling slightly panicked all over again at undealt-with email.
Ugh, my brain! Isn't there a way to archive my peskier thoughts. (Without fubar-ing that, too.)
So teaching is really quite lovely, so far. Still so much to incorporate and learn, to-do lists everywhere, but also the feeling that - we're off to a good start, and introducing new things in as the year goes on is the right way to do it, anyway, for us all. Thursday, I had a thought that perhaps 2 out of the 3 were already a little too comfortable with us, the teaching team, because all of a sudden they were block-crushing little monsters who would not be stopped. But it was also Thursday, i.e. our Friday. And then there's the problem of the afterschool crew, whom I stayed with Thursday, but not Wednesday, after my coworker and I convo'd and decided having 2 people stay for 1-2 children was not only pointless, but also possibly illegal, pay-wise. I had 3 kids on Thurs, which brought me up over minimum wage (holla), and also, I earned every penny with the wild monkeys under my care. Sheesh.
Outside school, I daily fend off a connected series of muscle aches and panicky-type waves, so I can only assume by now all of the monster is stress-borne. My upper spine is like a barometer for mental duress.
But then, I ponder the force field of calm I carry with me in situations where others are calling for it. Like the children in my care, or the parents dropping them off, or the old dog in pain, or the child upset about xyz at school today. Not always, but often, I can carry this shield for others, but not myself, like some kind of gift (but also a curse, since I am apparently unable to partake in it).
Well so, J.Lo's off to a tiny northern state this week for a conference, so I'll be here, holding down the fort. Watching normally booed and hissed shows on the large TV instead of the tiny tablet or phone, making pasta di fagioli and eating the leftovers everysinglenight if I want to. Facing down Full Week 2 of school, managing the puppies and the children. And generally trying not to lose my shit! (Exclamation point absolutely required.)
love to you xo,
your penelaotang
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Showing posts with label anxiety. Show all posts
Saturday, September 14, 2013
Thursday, April 25, 2013
and then sometimes, too, you're all
encountering ants floating in your tea, attacking the cat food, crawling over-EVERY-THING. Just now on your arm as you try and type. Rude. And having dressed yourself, and cut those short pants to capri length- realizing the outfit is not appropriate for either working in the garden or doing yoga. The only two things you've set out to do today. And the stripped shirt has a hole in it anyway and a couple stains so you might as well junk it but who has the monetary funds to do that? And the pants, they work- they fit great. They were free. It was a gift. It was amazing.
I did edit a document last night for $20. That was nice and unexpected. It took too long. Did I change too much? Did he really like it? How about that ending though? He didn't say it was amazing but it really was, unless it was too much? Was it too much? It was good though.
But then there's the - am i using too much butter? Am i eating too much healthy ezekial bread with that butter? Too much snacking right? Clearly. Not enough movement. But my foot. The snarfing. And these allergies. The popcorn though, and the fruit, and the hummus and crackers, am i back sliding? I'm not backsliding. What is that anyway. But down the ladder that's where I want to go. Not undo what was done. Because it's amazing. If i make it to october or november this size it'll have been a year. A cause for celebration and downward trending.
But nevermind, the day is partly cloudy. It's ticking by. The dishes can wait. This beating oscillating hemming and hawing, that can wait. Let me go pull weeds. Let me go do just the one thing. Among the blooming buzzing brilliance--- be, beauty, being, best...
m.
ps. I don't even have bruckners address- but if it's the same place its off LFB near Normandie... right oh or was that Franklin before LFB forms. Ok yes, i think that's it, on the left hand side- no right hand, i'm dyslexic--
I did edit a document last night for $20. That was nice and unexpected. It took too long. Did I change too much? Did he really like it? How about that ending though? He didn't say it was amazing but it really was, unless it was too much? Was it too much? It was good though.
But then there's the - am i using too much butter? Am i eating too much healthy ezekial bread with that butter? Too much snacking right? Clearly. Not enough movement. But my foot. The snarfing. And these allergies. The popcorn though, and the fruit, and the hummus and crackers, am i back sliding? I'm not backsliding. What is that anyway. But down the ladder that's where I want to go. Not undo what was done. Because it's amazing. If i make it to october or november this size it'll have been a year. A cause for celebration and downward trending.
But nevermind, the day is partly cloudy. It's ticking by. The dishes can wait. This beating oscillating hemming and hawing, that can wait. Let me go pull weeds. Let me go do just the one thing. Among the blooming buzzing brilliance--- be, beauty, being, best...
m.
ps. I don't even have bruckners address- but if it's the same place its off LFB near Normandie... right oh or was that Franklin before LFB forms. Ok yes, i think that's it, on the left hand side- no right hand, i'm dyslexic--
Friday, March 22, 2013
Grit,
My dear laotong, and maybe this is perhaps where the dragon and the horse speak a different language. It's the Pam question- Why isn't being a mother enough? Now I know this is some sort of existential question, like why isn't being X enough. So I'm not dismissive of you grappling. And let's forgo that, yes you could use the money so that you're not on the razors' edge every month, AND that as a human being you need mental stimulation outside of your 24/7 never stops work as a mom. So let's just not argue those points. I get those. Absolutely. I just don't like these sorts of things tied up into your worth and ultimately your VALUE since I love my friend, I don't like to see her abused in any way, even if it's by herself- especially so. And it's good; you need to have, find those avenues in which to have another facet of your life, but not just so that it's not just (while valid) the relentless pursuit of money, or filling up time.
And as we process aloud, I did the job that most people were like really you? And I was like really me? Granted my job made it sort of a worst case scenario and I was drained 2 hours into the day and still had 3 more to go. And ultimately I do probably need to teach older kids and ones with a creative streak, but that aside- so while I encourage the stretching of borders, and I do think you'd master the kiddos, overall, I get like you, the keyword, exhausted. And the words introverted, sensitive and not brought "alive" by children in general... but your love and your boundaried hands will make you excel in the job regardless. (I do sort of see your sympathy with the kid crying in the corner. Like they're away from their moms too soon sort of thing or a general overwhelmed misplacement. But well on ya, for doing it in the first place! And you would be rife with stories. There's that. And as Bruckner said, we're not getting any younger. Oh he meant me, since I am currently lacking a family and a job. Nevermind.
I'm too busy soaking up my last days, of your aptly named garage sale that is Laos. You gotta hit at the right time and place and it's magic or it's NOT. And while Vietnam had it's fairshare of travel annoyances. I just don't know. Either way memorable ? Tomorrow I leave to Vientiane. The plane has decided there's enough people. Yesterday I actually rented a scooter- so easy on the feet, and went down some dirt roads with Elena to a not really there waterfall. Which getting up to was a bit hard on my foot as it's back to more sore than before, but the local teen set were at the top tier with their bottles of beer lao so we turned back. It was only a few hour outing but daring enough and budget right for me. Though my butt hurts from sitting on it all day. Literally. Can't believe.
What else? Yes, HOME. Yikes. I don't know. The idea of anyone picking me up besides my mom sort of unnerves me. I get so travel cranky. But it will be really lovely to have a friend welcoming party too. But then as you know, the job question looms, and just coming back and fitting back in? Church makes me nervous, like coming back from summer break and finding everything the same but not? I have anxiety over all of that. Just coming back and being adrift. I guess that feeling won't last long. Maybe I'll make a routine of job searching and going to 24f between meeting with friends. Much like my joblessdaysbefore. Down to the - no, I can't afford that. Ok processing, processing. Needing a queen mattress, a whole new wardrobe or a seamstress.
ok friend, godspeed to us both, as we cross the waters.
xo, m.
And as we process aloud, I did the job that most people were like really you? And I was like really me? Granted my job made it sort of a worst case scenario and I was drained 2 hours into the day and still had 3 more to go. And ultimately I do probably need to teach older kids and ones with a creative streak, but that aside- so while I encourage the stretching of borders, and I do think you'd master the kiddos, overall, I get like you, the keyword, exhausted. And the words introverted, sensitive and not brought "alive" by children in general... but your love and your boundaried hands will make you excel in the job regardless. (I do sort of see your sympathy with the kid crying in the corner. Like they're away from their moms too soon sort of thing or a general overwhelmed misplacement. But well on ya, for doing it in the first place! And you would be rife with stories. There's that. And as Bruckner said, we're not getting any younger. Oh he meant me, since I am currently lacking a family and a job. Nevermind.
I'm too busy soaking up my last days, of your aptly named garage sale that is Laos. You gotta hit at the right time and place and it's magic or it's NOT. And while Vietnam had it's fairshare of travel annoyances. I just don't know. Either way memorable ? Tomorrow I leave to Vientiane. The plane has decided there's enough people. Yesterday I actually rented a scooter- so easy on the feet, and went down some dirt roads with Elena to a not really there waterfall. Which getting up to was a bit hard on my foot as it's back to more sore than before, but the local teen set were at the top tier with their bottles of beer lao so we turned back. It was only a few hour outing but daring enough and budget right for me. Though my butt hurts from sitting on it all day. Literally. Can't believe.
What else? Yes, HOME. Yikes. I don't know. The idea of anyone picking me up besides my mom sort of unnerves me. I get so travel cranky. But it will be really lovely to have a friend welcoming party too. But then as you know, the job question looms, and just coming back and fitting back in? Church makes me nervous, like coming back from summer break and finding everything the same but not? I have anxiety over all of that. Just coming back and being adrift. I guess that feeling won't last long. Maybe I'll make a routine of job searching and going to 24f between meeting with friends. Much like my joblessdaysbefore. Down to the - no, I can't afford that. Ok processing, processing. Needing a queen mattress, a whole new wardrobe or a seamstress.
ok friend, godspeed to us both, as we cross the waters.
xo, m.
Friday, March 8, 2013
dear old-same,
Look at you with your motorbike riding self! Now if you're ever on Amazing Race, you know you can handle any challenge involving a clutch. Whereas I'd still be screwed on that (and bungee jumping and spelunking). I loved your story! And I feel like over time and with practice you'd absorb what you'd need to absorb, no longer overthink and it'd become part of you.
And the sheeple. I mean. Yes, to all of your thoughts. And I do think you captured the wild ride, I mean beyond the bike-ride, the sense of place - the clipped rooster, the van driver with questionable yet common humor, the roads just running on through.
I'm on the same page with wah - life is hard sometimes. The child sickday, the snowday, the rescheduled a thousand times interview, and then they never called back after the snowday, and I'm just over it? I mean open to the interview if it ever happens, but also sort of deflated and trying to remain hopeful rather than dispirited. Although there's nothing that's looked remotely appealing over the past week, as far as applying for more things.
And then in freelance land, the aforementioned completely messed with my schedule and I've still failed to complete my article. Suck. Post-camping, it will get done, but I'm no less antsy about it. And then I tend to get meta-antsy on top of that, pondering the epic investment of time that freelancing involves and the payoff that's probably not worth it, but maybe? The spark of hope flickers on. I don't know. I shouldn't think so much or look down at the road lest I veer off and well - you know.
That car commercial J.Lo posted on FB? Let's talk about that for a second. I mean never have I wept so copiously over a commercial. But it's like Bailey's story! The little puppy and then grown dog, her faithful presence as the guy's life progresses from single-life to relationship to family. And by the end her muzzle is gray and FOR THE LOVE OF - . I can barely handle it.
Oh, so there are butterflies! Four of them. And I didn't see any of them emerge from their cocoons, they all just appeared at intervals and I scratched my head over it, but then it's not like they cause a great noisy commotion, being lighter than air. And ew with the spots of red all over their house that I don't like to think about. But today I added some flowers, which they really, really like, as opposed to the sugar-soaked wadded-up kleenex you can use instead. Imagine. And we're going to take them camping and release them there.
I have anxiety about camping - it's like going for the first time again, with the cabin. Because in theory you know what they have there and what you don't have to pack, but in reality you're still going to forget something that's probably important. And how will the puppy do. Will she nip heels and pee all over the place? I mean more so than usual. And those damn pizzas bought for tonight were so big they don't fit in my fridge. Unwieldy! Overall it seems like I'm bringing way too much food, but obviously I'll bring home leftovers. It's just those pizzas sending me over the edge.
So I'm up (camping, yay!), I'm down (life anxiety, boo), I'm all over town. But floating on okay...
love to you and may you happen on more magical characters in your unfolding tale,
pen
And the sheeple. I mean. Yes, to all of your thoughts. And I do think you captured the wild ride, I mean beyond the bike-ride, the sense of place - the clipped rooster, the van driver with questionable yet common humor, the roads just running on through.
I'm on the same page with wah - life is hard sometimes. The child sickday, the snowday, the rescheduled a thousand times interview, and then they never called back after the snowday, and I'm just over it? I mean open to the interview if it ever happens, but also sort of deflated and trying to remain hopeful rather than dispirited. Although there's nothing that's looked remotely appealing over the past week, as far as applying for more things.
And then in freelance land, the aforementioned completely messed with my schedule and I've still failed to complete my article. Suck. Post-camping, it will get done, but I'm no less antsy about it. And then I tend to get meta-antsy on top of that, pondering the epic investment of time that freelancing involves and the payoff that's probably not worth it, but maybe? The spark of hope flickers on. I don't know. I shouldn't think so much or look down at the road lest I veer off and well - you know.
That car commercial J.Lo posted on FB? Let's talk about that for a second. I mean never have I wept so copiously over a commercial. But it's like Bailey's story! The little puppy and then grown dog, her faithful presence as the guy's life progresses from single-life to relationship to family. And by the end her muzzle is gray and FOR THE LOVE OF - . I can barely handle it.
Oh, so there are butterflies! Four of them. And I didn't see any of them emerge from their cocoons, they all just appeared at intervals and I scratched my head over it, but then it's not like they cause a great noisy commotion, being lighter than air. And ew with the spots of red all over their house that I don't like to think about. But today I added some flowers, which they really, really like, as opposed to the sugar-soaked wadded-up kleenex you can use instead. Imagine. And we're going to take them camping and release them there.
I have anxiety about camping - it's like going for the first time again, with the cabin. Because in theory you know what they have there and what you don't have to pack, but in reality you're still going to forget something that's probably important. And how will the puppy do. Will she nip heels and pee all over the place? I mean more so than usual. And those damn pizzas bought for tonight were so big they don't fit in my fridge. Unwieldy! Overall it seems like I'm bringing way too much food, but obviously I'll bring home leftovers. It's just those pizzas sending me over the edge.
So I'm up (camping, yay!), I'm down (life anxiety, boo), I'm all over town. But floating on okay...
love to you and may you happen on more magical characters in your unfolding tale,
pen
Saturday, October 22, 2011
I'm sorry,
where are we?! Have I lost you? Have we lost ourselves? It's something we have to get around to asking everyoncenawhile. Are the words gone? When we only have our intermittent vocal/visuals/touchingbase-
It's not that October has been that bad to us right? Maybe it's just fall out from the preceding months of grim penniless existences- though my mom is God's provision for me, i still can't help but think I'm cheating? Maybe that's it. I haven't been too busy selling gold and trimming hedges. My butterfly LIVES. Why didn't I jump right on and tell the story of that, I helped to save it. I pinned its silken tail to an ivy wall and it lived, or wandering by a creek just yesterday. Glorious, in the heat of the blue and the invasive reeds rising out over the rushing water- talking about gold flecks and floating down stream. Or last Thursday breaking up with Prayer Council- i tried. The blog was called 'Cutting Ties'. 90% good 10%bullshit. The subject. The feeling of it. The truth of it. My life taking a deviation after 8 years of 1/2 living, of skyrocketing spiritual insightness and church stuff. Snip. Snip. Griiiind. Slowly beginning to turn the ship- but i can't pack for it. I don't have money to shop for it. I could start to study korean if i believed i was going. I'm reading a blog. I need to start getting into the korean soaps. But the list stops there in the 'waiting for paperwork' column. Has it been such a long preperation with so little physically to show for it. And the things, just breaking off and into the goodwill bag one agonizing minute at a time since? I've been doing this for months and months.
I'm cutting the roof of my mouth on the nuts in my appleflaxseed muffins. And i still can't articulate anything between the mint gum now and the lifetime movie starring FaithfromBuffy. And nordrack rejecting me, and the CAcreditunion accepting me. What else is there? I was just telling somebody the other day it's the little things in life that are fascinating. Just because it's no longer new to you doesn't mean it's no longer interesting and i'm sure the obsessive running of diagnostic reports, defragmenting, disk cleaning must look like something from the outside. If only i could tell a story about it. Or express the feeling of being stuck. Or on a steep and brutal descent. And how that must draw you inward and deep to a quiet breathing hard and trying not to go shallow kind of place after you've just fallen or slipped and went near to dangling. We're struck in the chest intermittently by a wave of panic or a feeling of wrongness as we walk. We think, what was that. What am i feeling bad about. It strikes fast and we have to chase it down and it takes a while and we think, oh that's right. Right. Ok. And we go back to what we're doing. Shake it off. We breathe a little better.
We relook at the lists, and the calendar, and the balances, the weather, the news, the FB, and we think ok. Check. Reoriented. I haven't forgotten something. It hasn't slipped off like the other pieces of gear in the fall. I still have those things. I'm watching. I'm x-ing off the days feeling half alive with a sinus cough, chronic aches, that the rest must be dreaming. That the rest must not be for the looking. I have only so many things I can take in where I'm at. Not more. Not that. Not those jobs. Or that list. Or that project. Or the words. Not those. It's too much.
m.
It's not that October has been that bad to us right? Maybe it's just fall out from the preceding months of grim penniless existences- though my mom is God's provision for me, i still can't help but think I'm cheating? Maybe that's it. I haven't been too busy selling gold and trimming hedges. My butterfly LIVES. Why didn't I jump right on and tell the story of that, I helped to save it. I pinned its silken tail to an ivy wall and it lived, or wandering by a creek just yesterday. Glorious, in the heat of the blue and the invasive reeds rising out over the rushing water- talking about gold flecks and floating down stream. Or last Thursday breaking up with Prayer Council- i tried. The blog was called 'Cutting Ties'. 90% good 10%bullshit. The subject. The feeling of it. The truth of it. My life taking a deviation after 8 years of 1/2 living, of skyrocketing spiritual insightness and church stuff. Snip. Snip. Griiiind. Slowly beginning to turn the ship- but i can't pack for it. I don't have money to shop for it. I could start to study korean if i believed i was going. I'm reading a blog. I need to start getting into the korean soaps. But the list stops there in the 'waiting for paperwork' column. Has it been such a long preperation with so little physically to show for it. And the things, just breaking off and into the goodwill bag one agonizing minute at a time since? I've been doing this for months and months.
I'm cutting the roof of my mouth on the nuts in my appleflaxseed muffins. And i still can't articulate anything between the mint gum now and the lifetime movie starring FaithfromBuffy. And nordrack rejecting me, and the CAcreditunion accepting me. What else is there? I was just telling somebody the other day it's the little things in life that are fascinating. Just because it's no longer new to you doesn't mean it's no longer interesting and i'm sure the obsessive running of diagnostic reports, defragmenting, disk cleaning must look like something from the outside. If only i could tell a story about it. Or express the feeling of being stuck. Or on a steep and brutal descent. And how that must draw you inward and deep to a quiet breathing hard and trying not to go shallow kind of place after you've just fallen or slipped and went near to dangling. We're struck in the chest intermittently by a wave of panic or a feeling of wrongness as we walk. We think, what was that. What am i feeling bad about. It strikes fast and we have to chase it down and it takes a while and we think, oh that's right. Right. Ok. And we go back to what we're doing. Shake it off. We breathe a little better.
We relook at the lists, and the calendar, and the balances, the weather, the news, the FB, and we think ok. Check. Reoriented. I haven't forgotten something. It hasn't slipped off like the other pieces of gear in the fall. I still have those things. I'm watching. I'm x-ing off the days feeling half alive with a sinus cough, chronic aches, that the rest must be dreaming. That the rest must not be for the looking. I have only so many things I can take in where I'm at. Not more. Not that. Not those jobs. Or that list. Or that project. Or the words. Not those. It's too much.
m.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
dear friend,
my mom found the head of a kitten on her property and its detached paws... i asked her where jesus was in this image and i can only hope the kitten is now romping around in heaven waiting for us to get there and its going to tell us how jesus brought it back to life and gave it a name. we have no idea what beast brought to bear on the tiny thing or why nature must be so cruel but there it is. i wouldn't mention it but it's one of those dark horrifying things that people don't talk about and yet there it is lingering in the mind. Like the young starling I 'saved' who was so panicked to be captive died in a stretched out mode of panic and fright looking frozen ever outward and crawling with ants... Whatever targeted the young weak innocent thing is probably at the root of that creepy guy in those posters- with that look and those eyes... we all know about. And if my life weren't currently grinding and tragical/comical i would definitely think my mom was in some sort of dark suspense thriller. and then in light of that the strange dreams, the wind- the large branch in the yard, the ominous background music, where else do you go from there. a curious footnote. you think, are those shingles a sign of something? a portent. some insidious thing.
and then go on talking about banal things like wii tennis and some xbox game called the hunter something. and a dvd compilation on contemplation you bought on amazon (i hope it doesn't suck) or being in love with the word codswallop. all of those trappings and fittings until the sinister twinge of the violin. but we go on. we read books on chaos theory. we think- pattern. we think jurassic park is a good example. we believe there's something stirring. we grow watchful. we worry about our own cat with nervous glances at his well being. we remember the word fractal but can't define it. we think- snap-out of it. we draw the blinds and think about the book we read about praying the hours. knowing we're nowhere near vigil but we grow tired. we grow exposed.
but we keep putting on ointment (the shingles which quietly annoy and grow hot) and burts honey lipbalm, distractedly as our foot arches and turns in place. checking our messages and finding the only thing to watch is antiques road show. but we don't hear a word. we glance up and some picture of the brooklyn bridge is worth 30,000. we wish whatever it was, wherever it is was worth a goldmine. we look for something to do now that the nails are done (pink sparkle) and the cuticles trimmed, 3 cut in, probably from that one day when i was dehydrated and drank nothing but tea and cranberry juice.
but nevermind. and then you remember the neighbor. the one with the jesus sign and the fake flower story from a friend and you think unstable. you think unhinged and ungodly- are there bodies under there? it was in a story i read. but wait they weren't fake it was maryhigginsclark. nevermind. maybe it was really about the goatshead and the probably satanic rituals happening where you might have lived. and you hope for light to break and to sleep through the witching hour so you can sit in your garden full of flowers and think- no, no, everything is going to be just fine.
m
and then go on talking about banal things like wii tennis and some xbox game called the hunter something. and a dvd compilation on contemplation you bought on amazon (i hope it doesn't suck) or being in love with the word codswallop. all of those trappings and fittings until the sinister twinge of the violin. but we go on. we read books on chaos theory. we think- pattern. we think jurassic park is a good example. we believe there's something stirring. we grow watchful. we worry about our own cat with nervous glances at his well being. we remember the word fractal but can't define it. we think- snap-out of it. we draw the blinds and think about the book we read about praying the hours. knowing we're nowhere near vigil but we grow tired. we grow exposed.
but we keep putting on ointment (the shingles which quietly annoy and grow hot) and burts honey lipbalm, distractedly as our foot arches and turns in place. checking our messages and finding the only thing to watch is antiques road show. but we don't hear a word. we glance up and some picture of the brooklyn bridge is worth 30,000. we wish whatever it was, wherever it is was worth a goldmine. we look for something to do now that the nails are done (pink sparkle) and the cuticles trimmed, 3 cut in, probably from that one day when i was dehydrated and drank nothing but tea and cranberry juice.
but nevermind. and then you remember the neighbor. the one with the jesus sign and the fake flower story from a friend and you think unstable. you think unhinged and ungodly- are there bodies under there? it was in a story i read. but wait they weren't fake it was maryhigginsclark. nevermind. maybe it was really about the goatshead and the probably satanic rituals happening where you might have lived. and you hope for light to break and to sleep through the witching hour so you can sit in your garden full of flowers and think- no, no, everything is going to be just fine.
m
Monday, November 1, 2010
pen-
dearest,
your necklace was at one point close to being completed but has been cut up and dismantled by me. i'm not sure if i was being destructive or if i assembled something without really thinking it through. it was in a 'work or else' sort of mood bound with superglue and it wasn't quite right, but beautiful, but not right- and after having struggled for some conclusion the last hour just gave up the idea of it being synchronous and put the knife to it. poor tattered bits.
also and perhaps coupled with the traumatic death of dear zep seared into my memory not unlike the death of that starling in the cage or the stray cat listless over the bowl alongwhileback i am in no mood to be disagreed with by my art or by people using the word business in the same sentence as art. i get physically ill at the thought. and bottom line i am an Artist and the word commodity makes me nervous, perfect and flawless make me even more nervous. you might as well say make something that will not break, fail or disappoint. make something more than indifferent. make it saleable... i won't attempt it even when money is at stake. i don't know if i'd save my life and make such a choice. and even after 2 squares of chocolate and a popsicle i would not say my mood is conciliatory. also i'm waiting for my edd check, hoping there's nothing wrong with it. bcs that really means my low level apprehension will turn to full blast apprehension. then i can start panicking about money, charging things, debt, gas, my faithlessness, my oily skin. also i forgot to vote in the 2 hour window i had and i need to finish shoveling dirt in the yard and plant the new snapdragons. and confess to you i really don't like tomatos. the world is better without them when they're not homegrown and thats just the end of it.
also, i would talk about seattle and i want to load pictures and tell you about things like icecaves and my cautious self, and wheatless in seattle and having delicious things like blueberry lavendar muffins, but its like my mind has gone dormant to reminisce. and there are these bumps on my arm from who knows what and there's a crick in my shoulder still and my butt hurts from sitting all day. even before that i couldn't really see straight... though i did get a dress down from $109 to $13 and a top down from $60 to $14. thats a real success hanging up on the closet door. so nevermind about not having a family and being lonely when i have that, and friends to play xbox with. and yet still.
something vacant and lonely in the air. quite like fall. not quite like the darkdays of february but still, besides zep, there is something missing. just a little off center and wobbly. down to getting no texts, halted phone conversations, answering machines. the limping cat with the hurt front paw who comes to the backyard table now as a break from catching birds. and as the tide comes crashing in with a thunderous thump and dash, knocking you down a bit and its too salty and there's too much sand and there's a riptide you see, sucking at your ankles, as your quads quiver and shake you to shore. and you think, fucking ocean. you vast indifferent monster, and there's just you hauling your own ass up the bank to keep from drowning. just makes me a tad resentful. and there's the boat again at dock waiting to take you back out again into the storm because that's where i belong right now.
but nevermind. i'm about to splay out on the sand and stare at the stars and breathe that deep cool air and wait for the dawn, and for the people to come and tell me the ship is about to sail and make sure i have provisions. and the water will lap at my feet and it'll feel warm when i'm prone and trying to find the big dipper- and dreaming about wheat free chili and gluten free sourdough. and i'll make a note to request that from the galley and try to forget about being seasick. try to dream about that crisp quench of clubsoda and the butterfly at my nose.
m.
your necklace was at one point close to being completed but has been cut up and dismantled by me. i'm not sure if i was being destructive or if i assembled something without really thinking it through. it was in a 'work or else' sort of mood bound with superglue and it wasn't quite right, but beautiful, but not right- and after having struggled for some conclusion the last hour just gave up the idea of it being synchronous and put the knife to it. poor tattered bits.
also and perhaps coupled with the traumatic death of dear zep seared into my memory not unlike the death of that starling in the cage or the stray cat listless over the bowl alongwhileback i am in no mood to be disagreed with by my art or by people using the word business in the same sentence as art. i get physically ill at the thought. and bottom line i am an Artist and the word commodity makes me nervous, perfect and flawless make me even more nervous. you might as well say make something that will not break, fail or disappoint. make something more than indifferent. make it saleable... i won't attempt it even when money is at stake. i don't know if i'd save my life and make such a choice. and even after 2 squares of chocolate and a popsicle i would not say my mood is conciliatory. also i'm waiting for my edd check, hoping there's nothing wrong with it. bcs that really means my low level apprehension will turn to full blast apprehension. then i can start panicking about money, charging things, debt, gas, my faithlessness, my oily skin. also i forgot to vote in the 2 hour window i had and i need to finish shoveling dirt in the yard and plant the new snapdragons. and confess to you i really don't like tomatos. the world is better without them when they're not homegrown and thats just the end of it.
also, i would talk about seattle and i want to load pictures and tell you about things like icecaves and my cautious self, and wheatless in seattle and having delicious things like blueberry lavendar muffins, but its like my mind has gone dormant to reminisce. and there are these bumps on my arm from who knows what and there's a crick in my shoulder still and my butt hurts from sitting all day. even before that i couldn't really see straight... though i did get a dress down from $109 to $13 and a top down from $60 to $14. thats a real success hanging up on the closet door. so nevermind about not having a family and being lonely when i have that, and friends to play xbox with. and yet still.
something vacant and lonely in the air. quite like fall. not quite like the darkdays of february but still, besides zep, there is something missing. just a little off center and wobbly. down to getting no texts, halted phone conversations, answering machines. the limping cat with the hurt front paw who comes to the backyard table now as a break from catching birds. and as the tide comes crashing in with a thunderous thump and dash, knocking you down a bit and its too salty and there's too much sand and there's a riptide you see, sucking at your ankles, as your quads quiver and shake you to shore. and you think, fucking ocean. you vast indifferent monster, and there's just you hauling your own ass up the bank to keep from drowning. just makes me a tad resentful. and there's the boat again at dock waiting to take you back out again into the storm because that's where i belong right now.
but nevermind. i'm about to splay out on the sand and stare at the stars and breathe that deep cool air and wait for the dawn, and for the people to come and tell me the ship is about to sail and make sure i have provisions. and the water will lap at my feet and it'll feel warm when i'm prone and trying to find the big dipper- and dreaming about wheat free chili and gluten free sourdough. and i'll make a note to request that from the galley and try to forget about being seasick. try to dream about that crisp quench of clubsoda and the butterfly at my nose.
m.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Penelope,
This week i'd been fighting off that, I don't have a job and have 5wks to make x amt of money, apprehension. (humming and bubbling right below the surface) Totally distracting and lame. Sometime around wednesday I also forgot to call into JuryDuty. So that as I was suppose to report on thursday and I failed to do so, and realized it only after i read staci's blog about how she was dutifully calling in to juryduty... Which means I now have to call on sunday, for monday... i don't know if that starts me to a whole new week? Or just the two days I lapsed on. I think that would be too optimistic. It sucks because i made it from friday last all the way till wed, then poof out of my head it went. Then yesterday beyond hope I got a 7wkgig@E! It is a lowly PA position most likely going nowhere in the middle of nofreewayland. But oddly not panic inducing. More like a great, lets go, sort of feeling. And now of course I may call to reschedule the jury thing till post gig. Besides that I did manage to get an etsyshopup after 4 years, but now what? Why has no one bought anything. Also shipping policies freak me out. (haven't done) But at least with the 7weekgig I can now pay my autoinsurance and afford the gas to go up to SB to collect more seaweed? And the $60 acu session i charged on tuesday... as that crick in my shoulder never abaited. Its sore but seems on the mend, but my heel of course, he said the muscle was twisting. Today i bought some sports tape. Tightness however is an artform i have not mastered, which induced a limping around hollywood and cutting of my circulation scene. And does that mean i should lay off the walking for a while? It seems to be one little thing after another. It has inspired me to wear my clogs, which aren't perfectly shaped like my holland clogs, but they'll do bean,they'll do. Maybe I could take a chisel and make them larger inside. Which is a benefit of wood shoes. Right now i'm eating a popsicle (or 2). Danica and i survived our prayerwalk through the city. But now no more outings unless we get up ridiculously early or stay out late. What to do. Summer plans laid to waste in an instant. We did find a cheap healthy food place and tried a judo something or other infusion taco truck off sunset, and stopped in for coffee at an independent place on vine. We also ran into a tour guide named vern we'd met from before. So if it be a last hurrah then it didn't go badly.
Besides that operation organize has tanked my energy. Normally I have an unflagging vigor in regards to such projects but this week its been pulling teeth. Where i stare at a box for an hour, come back later, move something, take another break, think about it all over again. It's agonizing. My trying not to look at the whole thing with a complete air of futility and yet still. But I must not be all or nothing. This will help in the end. This restructuring. Lately I've had a tiny bit of sympathy for mom in this ridiculously small house with no storage space. And dad having squeezed her out of the garage. Which must be bigger than our house proper. But why fight for space you don't want to live in. It's like my reluctance to live in the bathroom. Still haven't moved in by the way. (just now emptied a box in there while talking to cath) We don't necessarily need large spaces. My dream though is for an uncluttered one. And thank God for the space i do have. But must keep getting rid of things. Even if i won't part with variously silly things.
Also if i werent' selfabsorbed i'd make you a congrats for staying off FB for 5 hours postcard. But as it is i'm too wrapped up in my anxiety (farmtown playing) and worrying if all this summer food of grilled bbq chicken, corn and watermelon is going to catch up with me. (Probably not.) Oh and the bing cherries. My absolute favorite. And there was that earthquake and the strange overcast mornings in the middle of july. It's positively temperate. A curious summer. And that guy who puts flyers on peoples cars in their driveway. Is it wrong of me to want him chased of properties with a gun? As it is i almost hit him with my car as he seeming like he was about to pass out from the heat and effort staggered across my path with his stolen shopping cart. Which he was going to retrieve from my streetside parking space. He probably lamented that I had not arrived earlier, as he couldn't flyer my car.
I've got to get more to drink and advance onward to the laundry room. Which one day will house the vacuum cleaner, broom and have space for the ironing board. Should i ever own one. We do now but they're in ridiculous places and i wont talk about it. And tomorrow is the prayer people comin' on over. I have no ice. or bacon... but we'll cobble something together. I think.
m,out.
Besides that operation organize has tanked my energy. Normally I have an unflagging vigor in regards to such projects but this week its been pulling teeth. Where i stare at a box for an hour, come back later, move something, take another break, think about it all over again. It's agonizing. My trying not to look at the whole thing with a complete air of futility and yet still. But I must not be all or nothing. This will help in the end. This restructuring. Lately I've had a tiny bit of sympathy for mom in this ridiculously small house with no storage space. And dad having squeezed her out of the garage. Which must be bigger than our house proper. But why fight for space you don't want to live in. It's like my reluctance to live in the bathroom. Still haven't moved in by the way. (just now emptied a box in there while talking to cath) We don't necessarily need large spaces. My dream though is for an uncluttered one. And thank God for the space i do have. But must keep getting rid of things. Even if i won't part with variously silly things.
Also if i werent' selfabsorbed i'd make you a congrats for staying off FB for 5 hours postcard. But as it is i'm too wrapped up in my anxiety (farmtown playing) and worrying if all this summer food of grilled bbq chicken, corn and watermelon is going to catch up with me. (Probably not.) Oh and the bing cherries. My absolute favorite. And there was that earthquake and the strange overcast mornings in the middle of july. It's positively temperate. A curious summer. And that guy who puts flyers on peoples cars in their driveway. Is it wrong of me to want him chased of properties with a gun? As it is i almost hit him with my car as he seeming like he was about to pass out from the heat and effort staggered across my path with his stolen shopping cart. Which he was going to retrieve from my streetside parking space. He probably lamented that I had not arrived earlier, as he couldn't flyer my car.
I've got to get more to drink and advance onward to the laundry room. Which one day will house the vacuum cleaner, broom and have space for the ironing board. Should i ever own one. We do now but they're in ridiculous places and i wont talk about it. And tomorrow is the prayer people comin' on over. I have no ice. or bacon... but we'll cobble something together. I think.
m,out.
Friday, May 28, 2010
Penstrings,
So yesterday I went to Szu-Hua's concert downtown. I have no idea who katvon d (she was hosting it), why her voice is so deep and was distracted by her sparkly gold 4inch stilettos...is, but i loved listening to the music. It was one of those things where the price was right and the adventure seemed on par with me. I didn't tell anyone, invite anyone else for the secret fear that if i were given a minute more to think about it I wouldn't go. Even up to the last hours I was fairly convinced I didn't need to go despite that I bought the ticket and told her i was coming. But anyway I took the train and even switched cars when someone got too loud or obnoxious for me to bear. (It was this girl on the way back posturing about her own kind don't like her, and she's ready to stab people. riiiight.) This is the only time i really long for my ipod to be working. Anyway- The classical music took me to all sorts of lovely visual places. The last piece seemed to me a vivid cream yellow, though it was entitled 'rain'. And at one point a red dragon flew me into a clump of trees and left me there while the world started dripping red and yellow swirly paint around me. There was a piece called 'gluttony' that was really my auditory favorite. And which I lack the skills to describe.
The only thing I was combating while i was there, was the sinking realization that this temp job i had agreed to interview was thee worst possible thing for me. It was like, at the time i swallowed the pill not realizing its disastrous effects until it was already traveling down my esophagus. The temp woman who wants me to retool my resume, offered me an interview with a 3month assignment- pretty nice of her, considering the competitive field of even temp offices. Until I crunched the #'s and the horrific realization that I make as much on unemployment, and it would be for something I'm not remotely interested in. And an equal realization i need to be way more grateful if my 3rd ext. comes through. And i wont know that until next week. But anyway faced up against that, I'll take anything, do anything- suddenly seemed really wrong. Like I was trying to walk away from a place that God deliberately had me in. And that to walk away just to walk away seemed flawed if not perilously ridiculous. Though I'm sure it would've been fine either way. I was bound up with anxiety in between beautiful strains of stringed instruments, though I think one of the pieces was geared for that- the need to deep breathe. So anyway I called her at 830 which was as long as I can wait, in between the sinking feeling that i was getting a cold, but I'll continue to blame allergies, and she was perfectly nice about it as I rattled on about needing to get ready and blahblahblah, its not right, yadda, yadda, inner voice, screeching No! in the dark all night, etc,etc,etc.
m.
The only thing I was combating while i was there, was the sinking realization that this temp job i had agreed to interview was thee worst possible thing for me. It was like, at the time i swallowed the pill not realizing its disastrous effects until it was already traveling down my esophagus. The temp woman who wants me to retool my resume, offered me an interview with a 3month assignment- pretty nice of her, considering the competitive field of even temp offices. Until I crunched the #'s and the horrific realization that I make as much on unemployment, and it would be for something I'm not remotely interested in. And an equal realization i need to be way more grateful if my 3rd ext. comes through. And i wont know that until next week. But anyway faced up against that, I'll take anything, do anything- suddenly seemed really wrong. Like I was trying to walk away from a place that God deliberately had me in. And that to walk away just to walk away seemed flawed if not perilously ridiculous. Though I'm sure it would've been fine either way. I was bound up with anxiety in between beautiful strains of stringed instruments, though I think one of the pieces was geared for that- the need to deep breathe. So anyway I called her at 830 which was as long as I can wait, in between the sinking feeling that i was getting a cold, but I'll continue to blame allergies, and she was perfectly nice about it as I rattled on about needing to get ready and blahblahblah, its not right, yadda, yadda, inner voice, screeching No! in the dark all night, etc,etc,etc.
m.
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