Letter to the Ether,

I guess we broke the blog. Or that the unexpected fish tank explosion of 2013 really was the last straw. I wish through this time I was unaware of leaving the blog or that I didn't think about talking to it, but I deliberately didn't- my usual test to see if I could give up talking to the ether and I find that I cannot.

So here I am again.

There is something to the slight warping of the floor boards you mention. The imperceptible lift and catch to say I am no longer perfect, no longer a blank slate to act upon and be acted upon but a floor with a story. I suppose it depends how long you live there and who will live to know and pass down this queer day there was a shift and the inexplicable imperfect occurred. It deserves a small humorous plaque I think. The stories I know of my floor are not nearly as daring- fraught with the hazards of carpet and animal or metal or toilets overflowing. I wish it had been more. And the mundane hazards replicated over decades -- thus the scripture. I finally sanded the West bedroom after a couple sermons and worship music and avoidance activities and now the equally arduous task of stain and sealing. The same herculean mental effort.

It is also possible my metabolism is crashing which would explain the extreme fatigue, the brittle nails and hair, weight gain and recurring food intolerance - dairy, frosting? I don't know. If I wasn't afraid of the black Friday or that guy Mayhem I would've gotten some b-supps. I did however take a walk. And it was a beautiful post rain- glisten and gold dripped trees.

It is not lyme's disease however. It is not that... should know more.

But we are tired are we not of all the habitat enrichment and diagnosis that is the human body. But still we must grapple and wrestle out of this mortal shell and cross the divide into that collaborative body of experience, warping boards and all. Beautiful in the patterns we make.

I did almost set the house on fire- but in my defense I didn't know that the large board was soaked in something highly flammable before I put it sideways into the fireplace.

m.



 

Dear AA,

I think you're missing my um, broader point about narrative threads and real life- but I totally get you, yes. How do we invest- what are we spending our time on, and for how long. ?

Just now I spent 905 pages of time on a book I mostly loathed. Now I didn't chuck it across the room like I did with 1984 and handmaids tale (canNOT stand post-apocalyptic narratives of facist govt takeovers) but I think i'll probably throw it into the giveaway pile, even if the supercutenewsherlockholmes is playing him in the hbo miniseries. I can only hope they make it better. But the book it was callus, and fragmented narratively, and the characters- not really at all likeable? Somewhat appealing but inaccessible. For instance the main character is referred to as a "meal-sack" throughout and his meaty sausage like hands with his mouth agape. The whole thing agitates me.

Also it was 93 in the house today. i'm acclimating in that I can actually put my hair down. So there is something to not having a/c and letting your body adapt, after ive soaked my feet in cold water and drank 2 cups of iced water. The book, finished with a seriously unsatisfying end. It was gripping in a way, as life just carried on in crisis and the shifts were small but they were happening- but ultimately I wanted to care about the characters and I don't know if I did... hmm we'll see if it becomes forgettable or in a way memorable in how irritating it was- some books don't deserve it but I suppose it's working if your reacting. even if it's a bad reaction. and to think I read this book while playing hardcore on gears of war - I laughed when I set the mode on casual and played it again- how easy it all was... i didn't die over and over and over and actually say to myself, is this game going to beat you? are you giving up? or are you going to learn how to do this BIT better. now i'm super efficient at the torque bow with an xbox controller... but i digress. what's your game mode setting?

Some gamemode settings are on insane and how many of us can really go there? Sometimes, I have glimpses in myself of such courage. I'm acting it out now financially. But in the gameworld I only do that when i'm bored with the maps and the AI enemies- not aggressive enough, die too easily... yawn. Korea was insane mode in some ways too. Other ways pretty casual to normal, as life has to be at times. It's like yah, ok, what ELSE. But i had to start at casual. And then i became bold and went hardcore and now i'm used to that there's no going back to "normal".

And being away a year has given me crazy perspectives on friendships- the ones that have experienced hostile takeovers, long dormant resentments, and my need to be patient about a lot of things and that terminal list- the list itself I indite myself over- blasted projects- never ending. Today my dad came over with Hamlet- love that- to measure cabinets- so that might actually happen? Kitchen renovation. Kind of shocked. My dad did say to my mom that the living room looks like a vampire den. As I said to Pen I can only hold back my gothic and as danica suggested bohemian instincts for so long- and then I'm just seduced by the names too- medieval forest, chianti, black orchid... interestingly one of chi-cathy's favorite words is corridor. Which I love, and will try to work into the map i'm painting in the hallway (polarbear white!) and as that movie with the rabbit suggests, another beautiful word like cellar door... Autumn, today, had never heard of the word roiling. It was used in the context of church of course- it feels roiling. The battle. The tumult. The turbid waters.

Good stuff.

But life- we should try to live it on hardcore mode more often than not I think. Since safety in any sense is mostly wholly fabricated and not actual. Of course I'm biased since I spent a year meditating on what it was to be safe. Literally most everyday calling the word to mind and holding it there with God. So naturally that is my answer to everything- what are you doing? Oh, you don't feel safe. Right that's it. Little M, Little Pen, Little AA- is God holding you safe in his arms?

Besides that lately I am examining God the Father and His love for me. And know my next task is to examine my utter detachment from seeking success or a future or something? Like by gradschool maybe i got a little too esoteric with my whole "it's an end in itself" rhetoric- like maybe i shouldn't have let everyone off the hook so easily- maybe that was me trying to put something insane into a casual setting and confusing what was at stake- i mean i had the right strategy but the execution i think was off... anyway i'm pondering that.

So jejusarah is coming on Monday and I'll have gone to church, and watered my pre-school teachers yard. She's 86. And then it's off to Paramount and who knows what else. Will try not to freak out about how i can't afford gas.

Ok this laptop is raising my coretemperature to critical. I need more icedwater stat.

xo, m.

 

Currently,

It's down to 89 in the house and I'm stabbing at the 2nd frozen block of coffee willing it to melt faster. It's only a matter of time, given the temp, as I watch JeffGo/db/um become a doily salesmen on P0rtlandia. In the 2nd season didn't he play a knot salesmen? I'm not sure.

It reached 101 in shade today. I ate like 4 nectarines and frozen yogurt and one of those chocolate dips from mcds. I bought a giant bag of ice, too. And played gears of war and painted the closet and hallway all day. I thought I couldn't go on but I rallied to finish the 2nd coat on the closet. And feel I did a good days work with the looming jejusarah visit.

You raise an interesting question about narrative threads. A favorite topic of mine, as we are a month shy of our 9 year blog-iversary. (I just finished the coffee. It was amazing. My tongue is numb.) Ok so right threads- I want to hear more. Based on what you've said it occurs to me it all depends on how you read a book in the first place. I remember with horror contemplating your? and my moms, skip to the end to see how it works out before you invest. But then equally your refusal to tell me what happened in a certain book series. I tend to like to know as little as possible going on beforehand, but for certain things to know the arch of a movie or book I wont read doesn't bother me. Oh and what sort of book are we talking? Ulysses? Something by Thomas Pynchon? Or more lately and boringly by Ford Madox Ford, or Proust or I don't know- c.s. lewis? Sometimes I do rightly think i'm in Narnia. And those are the best days. The world isn't as concrete as we sometimes make it out to be. And on the worst days i'm trapped in a descriptive paragraph that wont end for the semi-colons, or worse I've stumbled into into The sound and fury and my head explodes in confusion because i'm not used to fragmented narrative yet. Remember when books actually caused your synapses to misfire do to the narrative construction?

But we're talking about real life... right right. A complicated interweb. I think each season does have distinct beginnings and ends and ok some take longer than others but I think they do and can be resolved. It builds, as frustrating as the waiting is, a sense of expectation... I suppose we have to look at what in our lives has been resolved. What's taken turns and twists. But then I'm talking to your sub-text. And that's not clear in what you expect and what you're staring at. Death is the finisher of all threads is It not? Ha knot. Anyway. Oh not that your sub-text is death. You did mention joy and patience. I think there's a lot of things we can cultivate through discipline, and routine but I think only so much can be done unless God increases our natural capacities. Otherwise it's just work right? Ugh. Who wants it. I asked God to be my work boss a few days ago and then was immediately sending complaints about the tasks and it came down to me asking Him to give me the strength to do it then, and he happily obliges most days when I remember to actually ask and not just sit mired. But then conversely so much is gained in laboring through things. It's hard in this heat.

Humm.

Based on a word from autumn when I first got back - I wrote on my mirror 1. worship 2. be responsible. And I find not much is done but berating myself for crimes against productivity if I start with 2. I see my list like violations mounting a case against me and setting me for failure at the outset. And I sit in judgment of myself and so accomplish nothing. But if I literally put on worship music, sing or hum some tunes over breakfast or just put it playing on in the room that needs to be conquered my mind is overcome and I am suddenly kinetic in a way that sheer will won't accomplish. I think it reorients the focus. In a way that literally makes all things possible. I want to remember this. It has made all the difference since I've been back. We can't hold onto this all the time, but perhaps it's like a morning offering to face the day/maybe not the day- but the maker of the day- and keep the rest for peripheral vision.

I think back to being radically healed from the church and I thought like you about this narrative thread that it would never be resolved. I was miserable in community. I showed up, not knowing what else to do, not realizing that was the thing itself- to just be there- and that God was working in a way I couldn't perceive, so that one day as someone prayed for me I felt it break over me and it was literally done. God has those sorts of things in store for all of us if we pursue him and his promises for us- I think? and for YOU. sometimes we so closely associate our identities with our wounds that we can't tell the difference. Or we think somehow the wound is us. And it isn't. The hurts, the deep places. Those can be renovated. They can be like this one spiritual one for me broken open and excised. So I suppose that's what I ultimately mean about expectation- some I suppose not ever resolved on this side of Armageddon but then, a lot will be and can be in the interim. Which to bring it back- how amazing freedom in Christ really is. And all those debates worthwhile over MM. It is a choice. It is never done without community, but it's something so worthwhile once you walk into it. Shame doesn't have to be a part of everyday life. Shouldn't be.

Well anyway list making for tomorrow and handing it over to God- a new thought pattern- here have this- this is what I need, this is what worries me, and then ok, i'm going to get to work. (obviously with lots of cold things breaks- this weather shows no signs of letting)

xoxoxo,
m

 

S for So-so,

It's hot here as L.A. is wont to be coming toward July. It has been 5 days since my last shower. It has been 2 minutes since my last cup of coffee. There is one in the freezer for later. There is 1/2 of one in an ice-cup for 5 minutes from now. I'm going to paint the baseboards in the room, go to a bead store and mail some dried seaweed to a girl in Oregon. It's only $13 but it's something. Monk is on in the background and I've found since i've been back there is less on tv then there was a year ago, and that as much as I want to watch Damages I'm emotionally recoiling from it, so Netflix it is and old episodes of that quirky OCD detective.

I haven't found a game to replace GearsofWar3 and there are only so many deathmatches you can participate in when you're not connected to xboxlive and fighting and communicating with real people. Apparently my time as a hermit, though foretold, has not yet come to pass.

Strides have been made in the renovation of the sleeping place. And as i stare at the enclosed pictures the imperfections arent so upsetting, but stain reveals all the variations layers and trauma of a floor more than you think- you'd think the sanding it to its natural state and protecting it would somehow purify it but it's all there- the unevenness in absorbtion and actual level of the wood, chemical reactions, bad previous sandings, life, chair scrapings, deskmat meets grit... it was tyrannizing me a bit- so i wrote scripture over it. Seemed to me a perfect pairing of an imperfect thing with the perfector of things. Also it's telling me that the perfection of the floor though it would have been glorious doesn't have to rule me- let me live with the good enough and turn it into art instead of some shameful embarassment to woodworking folk everywhere. Grieve it, let it go, and move on. It took a lot of scripture to cover it- ps 139 "search and know me o' Lord" is 43 to v14 "you are my witnesses," declares the Lord. cor1 13 "love is. love never fails... love. all of romans 8 "the spirit intercedes with groans words cannot express".. and ephesians 6 "so put on the full armour of God"... and so on all handwritten in that sharpie marker cursive. You live in a place long enough and it becomes a well in 15 years when the varnish wears and you knew intuitively you'd have to deal with it even if that seemed so far away at the time, and so that things you plant repair ignore are indeed the reaping and sewing of your life... well anyway.

Also the cats are doing this. It's so ridiculously hot for them that they just sleep during the day and go out at night. Also in general they love sleeping on my bed now that it's in the living room. Like the central den scenario is finally come to pass and they approve. I'm not sure how they'll handle me relocating back into the bedroom but for now i can just gaze at them and laugh. For some reason them sleeping is hilarious to me. Of course i upset danica by sending her the cat pictures because she's a napper and can't nap currently because of the kids and schedule and life and whatever. I never have been and i don't like the way it makes me feel when i wake up- slogged and foggy but how cute is that? I guess i'll be one of those cat people. Laughing and no one quite knows why. But they're like this for a good 6 hours or more as i work there they are mocking it by just being and sleeping.

 oh and i've done a little artwork.

 

and here's marcus wondering what to do now that he's committed alien genocide and saved humanity. he stops short of bathing himself in the ocean cathartically i might add which is what you think he's going to do and what you'd instinctively want him to do after a dirty battle thats lasted i dont know how long especially ones without sleep, bathroom breaks or food. my friend nan- her character name anya is telling marcus that there's tomorrow- that's what- a future and a hope- if only there were a gears of war4. and marcus and anya... and i could keep and then...anyways. i must remind myself that i wouldnt like the military and at best if i were the remenent of humanity i wouldn't know what to do with myself either- which points to the importance of having a hobby even before the zombie apocalypse starts so that it doesn't seem like a sham to you to put down your gun/xbox controller and start painting trim and sorting papers on your desk so you can make room again in your life for necklaces and future jobs and prayer walking around the block and trying not to let it drive you crazy that it's not a full mile or even a full 2/3, point 74. agh.

m.

 

God doesn't want me to work at Home Depot

That's my conclusion for today, as you fly the friendly and I would hope not hostile skies. Or at least I assume you're on a jet plane, headed - HOME! Eee. Excited for you. But back to me, obviously. So there was some random Weather happening yesterday, freezing rain and sleet and snow, all the things that allegedly never deter postal workers, but schools - forget it. K.Lo is on a 2-hour delay OF COURSE because I had an interview at 8:30AM. Someday I'm going to look back on these mishaps and shake my head and sigh. Rueful laugh. Oh wait, it's already happening. I think I'd feel more put out if I could stomach the idea of being a greeter. Here, pretend to be a mega-extrovert for several hours! It will be great. And you don't even get a discount on your garden supplies. As it is, I cannot even get through to say I can't be there. Awful. I'm either re-routed, because no one wants to take that message, or sent to HR, where the call is dropped before VM can pick up. Every. Time.

So you know, I hope the other one works out. Have interview tomorrow afternoon at a consignment shop that said they weren't hiring until, apparently, they saw my awesome application? Right right. Anyway, I'm sure they pay much less, but do offer discounts, first dibs, and most importantly, scheduling around the fact of being a mother. Which frankly is priceless.

And yeah, the Pam Beasley Question. That's totally it. It's enough, absolutely. I'm enough even without that. Duh, right? But then I get in my head that should I be required to work (and I need to) to avoid that razor's edge, then it has to be fraught with meaning or otherwise completely worthy of my time, and me of it. And then I swirl down into the conventional spiral of college education and The Promise aka Great Lie of "you can be whatever you dream!" as long as you get one and oh wait that's clearly not true. And then I plunge into darker channels about bringing children into this world and what was I thinking - oh wait - Love. And despite my combined Wrong Education and lack of Right Experience, I can and should still change the world. But roadblock, roadblock. Red tape and more tape. It's depressing even scratching the surface, which of course I never do. I delve. And I struggle to get back to that hopeful waiting thing, but whine, it's hard. So many available options to talk yourself out of it, convince yourself that you somehow don't have value in the world - but again, that's the wrong question.

Stupid human condition.

I fell asleep during the latest ProRun last night - how could one not, really. I have to go back and finish it before discussing what on earth - how - the winning team was the winning team. I mean, Michelle's was perfection, but Daniel's? Am I missing how that dress wasn't a life-size Barbie dress from the 80s? Like the kind literally for a child's doll, not someone trying to dress ironically. Those were shoulder pads, I'm sure of it. And that color! Blech. Collectively I thought the other team of two should have won - for once, I really liked P's in particular.

And are you watching the Amazing Race?? We're not quite caught up, but last week's - Hanoi! and pho! a pho challenge! What! And our missing ingredient was apparently coriander. Now all I need are some live chickens squawking in a shoulder basket...

All right well. I've officially missed my ridiculous interview. Best get on with the day.
love to YOU
your penelaotang
p.s. I FINALLY watched the lice ep of SouthPark. My baby, Hope! genius.

ooo-dumb-sigh

So I feel like all of Laos is a jungly garage sale with a lot of waterfalls? This might be my conclusion. Like a garage sale it contains some charm in the form of puppies and flowers and also the mundane - these are the trappings of our life. Buy it or not. But then there's the subplot of People Who Haggle Over a Fucking Nickel. Which are fascinating in their own way. I don't know how to explain all the waterfalls - there are just so many that have been alluded to! I feel like we could totally outline a Laotian drinking game based on waterfall references - and drink a shot! And then you'd have a solid excuse for slip-falling! oh geez. I'm sorry, my caffeinated, NOT-MORNING-PERSON (what was that proclamation, really. a lie. or a gross misrepresentation at least) brain is going off on a weird tangent. 

I told the ponies to deliver my last letter to you, but also to write it before delivering, and damn ponies. Complaints about lacking opposable thumbs and a grasp of the English language. Whatever. Unfortunately this post has to be brief because somehow, randomly and suddenly I have a substitute teaching assistant thing this morning? at the preschool at our church, to which I had expressed interest in applying to for the fall. And despite the scheduling complications with N.Lo pickup and the last-minuteness and a case of the nerves, I'm going for it because it could be a good foot in the door? Or a warning to slam it closed and run. I should at least find out either way, right? It will give me something to recap later today. And then I should probably talk some more about my birthday (notes to self) and ProRun designer travesties and whatever else -

Oh! My main reason for sad bloglack this past week or so (although I've loved hearing all your adventures as you countdown to Home) is that most of my energy is spent mind-spiraling and chewing my nails over Jobs and Life and my apparent failure at both. Never do I feel like a bigger loser when it comes to employ, whether it by my $2/hr attempts at freelancing (because that's what it works out to, always) or my weak resume or lack of wise ambition in my 20s to do something that actually amounts to anything. And now it's too late? Or is it. (I need to read Julia Child's bio - another note to self. since she started her journey to awesomeness in her 30s.) And then add to that jumping back into the world of gainful employment after a 7-year absence and it all just seems futile and completely lacking in luster or hope. Particularly when I'm not asking for much. I'm applying, for instance, to be a SpEd TA - a temporary, they emphasize, minimum wage position (but it's at K's school, so schedule would be perfect?) and I need somehow to get a college transcript. And 3 people to fill out reference forms, even though - seriously? - this is all even before an interview. Icing on the cake was emailing undergrad and being informed - you graduated so long ago that you're unable to just print it out online. Like my fucking degree exists in some dusty cave of an archive or something, and only Argus Filch has the key. And we all know how temperamental Argus Filch can be. 

Anyway - I gotta go for now. Love! You! enjoy your day or your night and remember to hold out for a cuter accent and less insobriety. 

xoxox

P.S. HD does NOT give employee discounts. We're already off to a bad start. 

pass the spatula

I need it to scrape my jaw off the floor re: your encounters. Casual brushes with sextrafficking! A DEAD BODY by the side of the road! I mean. Wow. Also I found the whole experience with this noncommunicative family bizarre and offputting, but then you soldiered through so well. And is that a cultural thing or maybe just a family-cultural thing to have this noninclusive approach to guests? I feel like it was just them. Because it sounds like in spite of the procedural differences abroad you've still encountered warmth and the effort to accommodate or welcome. Like that at least doesn't have to be lost in translation.

Aw, you're going home-home! It's settled! I'm sad not to see you but remain hopeful about our eventual meeting. And you'll back to your place and your people and seek a job and pack some boxes and chain yourself to the lot trees just as you should. Oh, and help aa move into her new abode!

Puppy has pretty much lost her fuzz and jelly legs, already. So, so fast it goes. But you know. Like children, you enjoy the stages and forgo lamenting the progression of time. So help me if I turn into that old lady who accosts the weary mom with the screaming toddler at Target and tells her to ENJOY EVERY SECOND of this beautiful misery. Puppy fuzz goes out the window, but so does waking up allnightlong. Squishy skin and a tiny form morph into a furry little girl who knows the drill and how awesome is she for that.

Also, at the moment, she's lying on my foot. I feel her heartbeat.

This morning I'm missing oldtestament Bible Study and a meeting because oh, K.Lo has the Death Cold. Of course she does. Just when J.Lo was getting over it. Please affix the IV of wine to my vein immediately. Yesterday she hid under a blanket on the couch all day and today it's a lot of sniffling and vocalized misery - "Mommy, I don't feel good." Um. I know. My sweet, sweet dear. And I know how much this particular virus-thing sucks, and I hate it for her. While at the same time battling my own selfishness/anxiety over the things I want/need to accomplish this week (articles, interview, agenda meeting, prep for CABIN CAMPING this weekend) and trying to trust it will all work out.

Sort of related, I'm wondering if I'm evolving into more of a morning person? - I loathe the actual waking up - so brutal, wretched and I fight it with every fiber of my being. But once over that hurdle I have this air of chutzpah over allthethings I might accomplish during the day. And then as the day wears on, I can practically see the battery/energy indicator over my head as it drains from green to red and by say, 9:30 p.m. I'm so done. Wall, hit. Battery, needs charging. Whereas in the past of my wholelife I feel like I was more productive in the afternoons, and said screw it both the morning and night. Hmm.

May you have a beautiful evening/day ahead ~
penelope

#9

I thank the Lord the week has veritably flown by in my mental imagination. Though let me tell you last night, I interrupt the students for talking- i am such a bad teacher- and Eun hee is like teacher, no, i'm telling a story about a student who die. What happened, I ask. Teacher, two friends at ara..highschool. The one girl, say let's both jump. on the ... do you know what is this? Yes, the roof, the ledge. Yes. (they are always surprised at how much i understand sometimes) Of school building. Why!? Scorecards perfect teacher, 80 and above in all subjects. So, we don't know. So, they are there. But her friend, she afraid. And she step down, and girl, while she falling, looking up, they see each other. Eyes. Looking, so she know. And friend she-- what is this-- faints. Yes, teacher, faints, and girl she die, knowing that her friend didnt' die with her. Yes, teacher. (Preceding this was one of my favorite students, Young-bin, asking me, teacher why is life so hard. And i pointed to the head and how it made trouble for us... (the heart also) but there was a gulf where no words of mine could cross.) So sad. Other students, Chin-cha!? (Seriously!/Really!) Heads nodding. And the tragedy of the two friends making eyecontact is so haunting and perfectly part of the korean drama. i don't know... Ok! Well let's go on to discuss descriptive words and the beauty of jeju...!

I was going to actually babble about more upbeat things. But i've managed to damper my own spirits just now even though i just licked the mug containing my delicious caffe latte. Inexplicable. Well ok understandable. But still. Ok list of things i'm looking forward to: pay-day, maybe some volleyball, a package from mom, maybe miscellaneous car rental for the weekend just because oh and to help Meaghan move... Or maybe next weekend, and purchasing ticket to vietnam on saturday after the paydaying goes through. Paying bills. Needing to start a list related to things not to miss now that i'm leaving. I've had further meditations on intimacy as related to the poem, but have no place to put them right now. And what else?

I had another class, suddenly (the girls of course), erupt into accusatory- Do YOU KNOW JEJU! They're only like 12 yrs old maybe? or maybe younger? I can never keep it straight.

These girls, I've come to love the class as a whole, but I am a little bit scared of them. There's 8 students now evenly divided and the girls were about to make me walk the plank. And i asked them- well what about jeju? Do I like it? What? And then i proceeded to list places i knew and the korean food i liked. And then they quizzed me about where places were. It seemed to satisfy them. Mullify them maybe? I don't know. Something's in the water this week. Or always but it just came to the surface. The same class that was talking about suicide made an inditement against the new k teacher that to end up here must mean that her education was very bad. There are sometimes that I wish i understood more and there are sometimes i dont want to hear at all. I'm sure that's with life across the board really. As vulnerable and ignorant as kids are they can be stupid and cruel. (STO) Stating the obvious. There i go again. It's just going to be that way isn't it. Back forth. Back forth.

And then there's headlice to add insult to injury. Having to sacrifice the sublime of handbells to the mess of infested hair. I shake my head exalting in the blue sky and wincing at the wind tattered leaves.

m.

Oh, life, pen, life

Quickly, before I lose my will.

Saturday felt completely overcome after a meeting- feeling the journey will be taxing and laborious. But there was the sweetvalleyhigh board game and party. We read excerpts, gave each other carebear tattoos and kerry made GF pizza. I suppose in light of that, Saturday evened out. LaCats dad died though so I don't know. Yesterday I rubbed jalepeno pepper into my left eye (still twitching by the way), and on the boulevard slipped on something and went down on my left knee. Marring my fidji shoes. The burning subsided sometime later and my knee remained slightly swollen. I'm on patch 7 of 57 for my quilt. That fact oddly does not cause me sadness. Somehow fighting to do it how i instinctually wanted to do it was satisfying. But my throat tickles and i'm pretty sure a certain family gave me something. Repayment for being around them or sympathetic suffering. I'm uncertain. But pause to clear throat. Figuring fatigue levels.

I find the tick situation completely horrifying. Once when I went off trail one got on me somewhere and I was at borders (the hollywood one is closing which  total sadness more job people flooding the market) around 6am and noticed it latched onto my arm. It was completely traumatizing. Granted it was mostly smooshed already but still. Shudder. Can you get geese? I mean seriously. Something must be done. I don't know but now i fear for your safety. I am glad about your fish and tank though. It has to be akin to basket weaving or some monastic duty you will find Jesus in I am certain. I hope the Bible bars are tasty. I would want them to be. If ever i have funds to visit we must go get them along with the cure all tonic. Because why not- withmy arthritic elbows, constant weight why not. I'm sure it will solve all my nagging problems (toe fungus). And we'll get you a hairless cat and you can crochet it sweater vests.

I'm trying to think in light of your new adventures if i have any to share besides a possible cold. Or any new loves to tell. Jealous of your asian market and your cinna walls. Change is elusive so far but that we've filled 2 bags for giveaway. That makes me feel pretty good. I'm almost done with the tragic hans. Who has been in a sanitorium for near 7 years. So new fiction novel on my horizon. Maybe GF cinnammon bread. Maybe visiting with the nice temp agent by wednesday. I hope Hans escapes. I wonder if i'll escape. Parents are painting their house. things are getting CLOSE. but not too close. I mean if dad is bent on building his own cabinets. It's hard to say. But soon sewer connection, all the plates on the wall/fixtures... then flooring, then landscaping. That's it. Close but far enough. Today i'm going to shower. I know major accomplishment. Then go pray. Then play borderlands. Where I will try to save enough strength to then go shopping with mom for food.

Why is life such a pickle sometimes? I would be impovirshed in life if I didnt have you as a friend. I'll have to hold onto that as we count our assets even in these lean and somewhat harrowing times.

my love,
m.

As I had,

just today thought my dog Bodo was on the verge of death. Turns out he might just be dizzy. Mom and dad just took him to the vet. And they're keeping him overnight. I see this as an highly appropriate to my own life. I mean he may still die soon. His hips are bad. He really was not getting around well. And he's still victim of the natural law. I'd like him to die in his sleep. Pass peacefully. NoneofthisheartwrenchingSuffering business. That pathetic and heart rending look from those dark, soulful eyes of worry and not quite rightness and no language but common emotional searing to tell me. I am allowing myself to grieve the short terminable life of dog and mankind. It is after all tragic. Even though I know we are subject to frustration in the hopes we will be set free from bondage and decay. It SUCKS. So I am grieving. It's all very lenten.

And his dizzy muddled decaying condition I still can look out the window and call it lovely. Call him lovely. The sky, the rain, the fragrance of flowers snatched on the wind- as i myself feel carried in the choppy waters will try not to speak death upon myself and life. I will simply look out and up and call it lovely. Because inside all is internal chaos and churning- threats of cliff jumping, failure and unpleasantness- heavy handed upon my heart. But outside of me,  it doesn't seem so bad.

My Dear,

Things are a foot. This is when the rapids are getting a little rough. The exhilirating thrill of the start has given way to a constant push and paddling. What we want is some glassy water and overhanging vines so we can moor our rafts and get out and play. But we're afraid for now of being stuck upon a rock or worse yet overturning by a bad move. One that might've been avoidable or shown worse yet in short-sighted blunders. So we must paddle on. Paddle on.

Looking around it seems much the same. Tankard of iced tea. Experimenting with foodtrucks outside the building. A calculation of checks and balances. Sideways glances at the calendar as if I could figure out time. I am currently now eating a plum. Craving dark chocolate ice cream preferably with nuts. And in desire of headphones that work better than these.

It is hard to say how long this patch of rapids will last and if my sunscreen is holding. And was it a good choice to let those two be in the lead and if the books in the watertight bags will hold until i have time to get to them. And then there's the communications and the meetings and wondering if when we camp at night if the bear we saw the day before will stalk us while we sleep.

Mental note: to get rice krispies at first available opportunity.
Spiritual landscape: in a cleft of the mountain, avoiding the blizzard. Its warm enough if not a little cramped. I don't mind standing at the moment however.
Things to remember: hat, glasses, snacks, tasks, and other boats on the water. Saftey first.

Spot On, by M.

Lately i've been feeling a bit burdened by documentation, keeping up with photo albums mostly, printing pics, making sure they're all saved and organized, but the same goes with documenting my life on the blog I think and all the various activities and awesomeness I do- but the blog, its been more about communicating, not documenting, esp to penelope, but the two are twins sometimes and documenting is bullying communicating then communicating gets fed up and sulks in a corner. And then there's nobody getting nothing done over here. Which is why for the month of April you will continue to see 'today, i' posts- unless i really feel moved to relate something-- which is the case at this moment.

I'm reading 'Human Bondage'- by Somerset Maugham, which is a grim title and I feel the book itself might be grim though i am only half way in. I found 2 quotes that I relate to so completely in my belief if not the fact that i've said the very same things almost word for word in relating my thoughts to other people- which is cool to find in a book and one of the joys of reading if i may say as much.

(on love, art and money)

1: "(There is nothing so degrading as the constant anxiety about one's means of livelihood. I have nothing but contempt for the people that despise money. They are hypocrites or fools.) Money is like a sixth sense without which you cannot make complete use of the other 5. . . you will hear people say that poverty is the best spur to the artist. They have never felt the iron of it in their flesh. They do not know how mean it makes you. It exposes you to endless humiliation, it cuts your wings, it eats into your soul like a cancer. It is not wealth one asks for but just enough to perserve one's dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank, and independent..."

2. 'They stared at one another, forgetting that people surrounded them. He went straight up to her, and she moved a little toward him. Both felt the formality of introduction was out of place. He spoke to her. "I've been looking for you all my life," he said. "You've come at last," she murmured. '

Words, Words, Words

Pen has admonished me lately for my complete and utter silence. And I can only blame all this traveling and going here and there that it doesn't seem like I've been jobless as much as unsettled, and so lacking traction have I been that in my freetime I watch copious amounts of Netflix and pick up projects that have been on my todo list for over a year instead of ones I should be doing-right-this-minute. One of them is my quilt which is now pieced together and waiting for the next phase. The 2nd is this masterpiece above. Selected emails dating from 2001 to the present day 2009. It's never been seen by anyone before, but I take satisfaction in knowing that it's on a shelf in my closet, now uptodate and that I've thought very heavily about who out of my friends could physically and mentally bear reading so much of me. Or that in all those words do any of them contain complaints about said friends? Possibly. And that posthumously they would chose to not hate me for said rash words and know how much I love them. But I digress- really this is just standing proof that the letter isn't dead or the art of conversation... it's alive and well in my hotmail folder and in the dark folds of my heart (closet). And now I can go back to procrastinating about other more or less important things.

Adios for now.
M.

And this just makes me want to dance.

Generally speaking, I’m a bit skeptical of musicals, with a few die-hard favorites, such as Grease, Annie, and (maybe) White Christmas. As with any song or set of songs, I have to *bond* with it before knowing and loving it fully, and musicals make it hard for me. Because they’re a bit, um, hokey. I mean that in the best possible way; part of the reason I love Grease so much is because of its hokiness. John Travolta’s hair alone in that movie is both hokey and lovable. But when watching a musical for the first time, that cheese can get in the way of true meaning, causing me to turn away. 

In Mamma Mia!, there were a few songs and moments that didn’t do it for me. Granted, going into the movie, I knew just the bare-bones basics of the stories and only a handful of songs—the same ones that everyone on the planet knows—so maybe there was some background I just didn’t  “get.” But in spite of a few misses, there were so many hits, rendering me an instant MM! fan. One song made me want to lock myself into a room and cry. And other songs just made me so happy, wanting to get up and run and sing and dance. To celebrate.

MM! reminded me that musicals, where characters break out into song in the midst of their daily lives, show life to be just plain fun. Simple. Light. In spite of all the complexities and heartache, we don’t have to be so serious all the time. It feels good to remember that every once in awhile. If only we could invite a composer and choreographer to come on over one day and set this bitch to a song and dance routine.