The Unused Portion

Birthday Post 2012

2012-01-19T01:39:00.001-05:00

Well. What to say about this birthday? I don't want to do a whole 'year in review' type post, because I usually do those in the Spring, on the blog's anniversary...so what do I want to say? I had found a quote that spoke to me, recently, and I considered posting it on faceshnook, but I've got enough trouble over there, so maybe I'll start some shit over here, instead. Here goes:

"I shall never cease to wonder at women. Even with power, it is not possible to read their minds. Duchess and slut alike, they need not even study to deceive. I suppose it is the same with slaves, who live with fear, and with those animals who disguise themselves by instinct to save their lives."

- Mary Stewart

Pretty rough words, huh? Keep in mind, I'm taking them completely out of the context in which they were written to suit my own purposes, but the meaning retains its wisdom, even so. I grew up with a brother I was quite tight with, a father I adored (though we butted heads as often as we agreed), and a mother I never quite learned to respect, but that I am learning to forgive. My maternal grandmother was a hard woman, the heavy to my maternal grandfather's saintly patience and kindness. I believe it was the complete and utter peace and happiness of special moments with my grandfather that informed my life-long ~~love of~~ addiction to chocolate ice cream. I feel that these formative relationships are the fundamental factors that led to my easy repore with men, and my instinctive distrust of, yet fawning desire to be accepted by, women.

People who know me have heard me say "I'm no Giselle" (Bundchen, Victoria Secret supermodel), in wondering why women tend not to trust me around their husbands. I think it's a symptom of their marriages, personally, and/or the woman's own insecurities about herself, that lead to these touchy scenarios, but it has been pointed out to me that women who are looking to, can read 'signals' into the ways I communicate and move my body that I am completely unaware of. I was asked once (in the first of several attempts at conversation to dispel these fallacies from the head of a woman I try desperately to maintain a good relationship with) "why would you bend over in front of my husband so he could see down your shirt?" Umm...I was picking something up off the floor, I had no idea the horn-dog was looking down my shirt - maybe you should be talking to him about this? (Or maybe just get over yourself because I would never flirt with a friend's husband unless she wanted me to, and men will look at breasts no matter where or how they present themselves.) Same conversation: "why would you squat down in a way that so-and-so's husband could see your thong sticking up out of the waistband of your pants?" (Long time ago, before the kid. Rest assured, this would never happen today!) Uhh...I was squatting like that because it was comfortable, and again, I had no idea my thong was visible, or that there was a horn-dog standing behind me ogling my ass! I fail to see how being looked at by men (or women, for that matter), married or not, is something I should be made to feel ashamed of, or that it's somehow 'my fault', and a behavior that needs correcting.

I bring this up because it pains me, deeply, that as women, we have been made to feel as if we are each other's competition, and as such, are subtly encouraged not to trust each other. The 'divide and conquer' of patriarchy. In the past two weeks, I have had words with two women, one of whom is unquestionably gone from my life forever (no real loss, except for the blow to feminism her insecurities perpetuate), the other...well...we'll see. There are women in my life I trust implicitly, but our relationships were forged along with our sexuality, so there was a higher level of trust between us from the drop. And now that I'm thinking about it, there was another woman within the past year whom I lost to a breach in sexual security, though I doubt she sees it that way, and I'm not willing to bring it up to her at this time. It all adds up to the same thing - the thing I've been telling my girls for years - I Am Loyal To My Sisters Over And Above Any Man. Period. And I don't think it's too much to ask the same in return. Why can't we trust each other? Or, to pick the positive, Can we learn to trust one another? Can we lay down the arms we tend to get all up in and see to our collective power? Must we behave like 'slaves, who live with fear, and...those animals who disguise themselves by instinct to save their lives?' What are we afraid of? What is it we are so terrified to lose? Or is it something we're afraid to gain? Being single, I think it's easier for me to see this perspective, though even as a girlfriend I'm not one to be the 'why're you looking at her' type, because I think it's human nature to look towards beauty, and I don't see a damn thing wrong with people acting like humans. In fact, I encourage it!

*a glitch in blogger deleted part of this paragraph - I was talking about how I usually feel energized and alive as my birthday aproaches, and this year, I didn't. I felt out of sorts and agitated, and I mentioned some weird astrological happenings that were affecting everyone, and then said: (no, not the 2012 thing, Armageddonites!).* There's issues in the government, and people are getting collectively worked up about it. Much like the ripples from the stone thrown in water, these vibrations are washing over me, and I feel ambushed by them. Derailed, blown off course, cast adrift to bob and sway in the current as it carries me...where? Down the dark road of my memories to the place in time where my grandfather took me for ice cream - and farther, to the day I was born, just two days shy of his 49th birthday. Every year of my life thus far, my grandfather and I have celebrated our birthdays more or less together. Decade upon decade of cakes spelling out 'Happy Birthday Zayde and Mayde'. This year, as my grandfather passed away two months ago, there will be no shared cake, no phone calls - his to me, or mine to him. I lost my paternal grandfather 28 years ago. I lost my dad 13 years ago. My brother and I haven't really spoken in years. And this year, I lost my Zayde. As I have no husband/boyfriend, and haven't for many years, that makes a clean sweep of men from my life. All gone.

Maybe that's why I'm looking to the women, and attempting to reconcile the competitive mistrust that tends to characterized our relationships. Maybe after having spent my life up until now looking at the men in my family as the ones to be trusted, while shying away from the fears that seems to have informed the attitudes of the women who raised me, I need my sister-friends more than ever - and they are busy jumping ship like rats, to protect the very systems that force us to hide our light from each other, rather than help each other grow and flourish.

In any case, I'll be having a party, as I do every year. I can't tell you who I'm expecting out of respect for their privacy, but I believe the guest list will include one married hetero couple, and one gay man. Gone are the days (apparently) when I could gather half the town to one of my themed birthday shindigs, but there is the distinct possibility that a few surprise guests may blow in at the last minute. Whether they do or not, I will most likely post about it after the fact, so I encourage you to check back after the weekend to see if anyone posted naked drunk pictures of me to my own blog. I wouldn't bet your retirement on it, but it could happen!

Happy birthday to me ~ ♥

It was a dark and stormy night...

2011-12-29T15:49:00.037-05:00

...well, it was more of a grey and damp afternoon, but it turned into a dark and stormy night, eventually. I dropped the boy off at a friend's, and set out, only an hour behind schedule, which wasn't so bad, as I'd planned for a half hour of lateness, anyway. It was pretty damp when I got to my first hero's house, and we set off pretty quickly to pick up the second. Not even five minutes into the ride, the windshield wipers start slapping out of time, got caught up in each other, and jammed. We pulled over (I should mention that escort #1 had taken over the driving) and I got out into the rain to wrestle and separate them. That fix lasted for approximately two more minutes, when it happened again, and I decided to just take the passenger's side wiper off, while standing in the rain on the side of the highway, because it was getting ridiculous, already, and we couldn't continue on like that for the rest of the trip when we had to be at the venue in two hours, and were running out of time. Off we went, with my anxiety level increased from 'the brakes are shot and so are the tires, and there's a plastic driver's side window', to 'all that, plus it's pouring rain, and now there's only one wiper, and I can't see shit'. Not very much further up the road, while pulling up to a toll booth, I was explaining to hero #1 how he had to pay the toll through the sunroof (plastic window), and while he was looking up at it, he rear-ended a Jeep and crushed the front end of my car. Because the Universe thought it wasn't smashed up enough already. So we pulled over again, to confirm with the young Jeep driver that, as per the norm, his vehicle had sustained no damage whatsoever, thank you, have a good day, and on your way, lad. I attempted to pick the broken headlight glass out of my crushed fender for a minute, then gave in to the futility of the exercise, and moved our sad little train back on track to our next destination.

Through the half-wiped, window of my suffering vehicle, we finally looked out on lovely, downtown Secaucus, New Jersey, having braved the bumper to bumper traffic of rush hour, out on the washed-down highway. We pulled in sodden and weary, grabbed our second hero's luggage in a wind-whipped sprint from parking lot to front door and back to the lot, through the soaking chaos of the unrelenting rain, arranged suitcases in the trunk in a frenzied rush, stuffed our newest party member into the ruckus and flew on. And then there was more traffic. And more rain, and trying to figure our way into the City from this angle, and finally making it to and through the Holland Tunnel (which wasn't what we were going for), and then crossing over to the West Side Highway so we could bomb our way uptown to 78th, where the Triad Theater is. Oh, it was a hell ride, all of us cursing and spitting, shrieking our heads off with laughter while pounding the dashboard with the Madness - me threatening to chicken out, and not even get up on stage, and screw it, we're in the City on a Hell Ride, and let's just go out and have fun, damn the Slam. But no, they had brought me this far, they were going to deliver me at all costs, and I was going to have to Go Through With It no matter how unprepared I felt, no matter how unrehearsed and sloppy from the wet. So we found parking, and the rates quoted were high enough for me to blank them out and say, 'whatever, we'll deal with it later, we have to GO.' And the final two block hustle on foot ensuring the completion of my drenched-ness, where in the packed lobby of the theater I managed to let a guy who was yelling "$12 cover, 2 drink minimum. Cash only, there's an ATM across the street" know that I was supposed to be performing, but was rather wet and late, and he saw me through a door.

I was approached by a woman who was strongly suggesting I go backstage. "Should I tell my friends that I'm heading in?"

"You should go in the back."

"Well, they don't have very much money, I should make sure they can get in to the show..."

"You should go in the back."

"Well, I mean, if they can't get in, they'll be stuck out in the rain until..."

"You should go in the back."

"Okay." I went in the back, and figured my boys could take care of themselves, they would have to, and that I'd just have to get myself ready and do this thing, here I was, full steam ahead. 'The back' was a teeny room, with six or seven people squished in it, with a toilet-sized area that was separated by a door. I shimmied my way in, made my way to the toilet-cubby, and shucked my swim gear for the elegance I had the forethought to carry along in an old, American Tourister make-up case. Dressed and powdered, I emerged from the cubicle and finagled a place at the mirror to arrange all my hair (not very well), apply what I thought was stage/camera appropriate make-up (darker and more dramatic than usual), and accessorize with a few pieces of antique Bedouin jewelry on loan from my mother, from my grandmother's collection. It was a blessed miracle - I had not only arrived in one piece, but was as 'tv ready' as I was going to get without professional help, to tell my story Remembrance, with (hopefully) a few friends in the audience cheering me on. I attempted to read over the copy I had printed out and rolled up in my purse - crushed as it was from the many grab & stuffs it had been subjected to throughout the day as I tried to cram in that last bit of studying before go time - without much success, as I was more interested in hearing about my fellow tellers, who were they, where were they from, what were they telling, how prepared were they? One woman had flown in from New Mexico for the occassion, which put my 6 hour hell ride in a certain perspective, as well as the Sephardic Music Festival as a whole, for me. Then the hostess called my self-written intro 'adorable' and announced my name.

I walked across the stage, stood still before the microphone which I was shy of, fidgeted with my shawl as I mumbled and lowered my eyes through a shaky retelling of my poetic memory that seemed much less entertaining, emotional and amusing than it was on the page, looked quickly out into the bright lights that hid most of the crowd, and retreated to 'the back'. I felt...triumphant, embarrassed, stupid, elated, and free. I felt great because I had done it - because we had gotten there, because I had been able to 'clean up' in time for the show, because I had actually walked on to a stage, and attempted to tell a story. I was embarrassed because I was unrehearsed - I didn't act the piece as I would have liked, I would have needed a week's notice for that, not just a day's...and I attempted to qualify what I thought would be a lame performance to the audience by excusing it on stage beforehand. Seems like a big no-no, huh? A self-fulfilling prophecy, and a negatively self-imagined way to avoid dealing with giving the world little more than what is required to live in it, rather than reaching for joy. Stupid, I forgot half the story! OMG! I left this out, and that out, and I flubbed that other thing, and did I say that? Oh, lord! But I was also elated, you know why? Because once again, I immediately knew everything I would need to do it right the next time. That this was just the beginning of something really fun and exciting for me, and for a first timer (other than the aforementioned coffee houses), I didn't do as bad as a tragic disaster - I did okay. This was the final event in a week long music festival that coincided with Hannukah, featuring some of the biggest names in Israeli/American music and culture, with seasoned tv and theater pros. This was a big event, as witnessed by the woman who had flown in from New Mexico for the Slam...and here I come, some chick off the street breezing into their club and doing almost well. And part of what I knew was, had I done my prep work better (now here's the story of my life), focused more on the dramatic telling of the story rather than what I was going to wear, how I was going to do my hair, with what would I accessorize, I could have sewn that thing right up. Well, I could have been a finalist, for sure, but it was a freeing experience, the whole thing.

Then, after I had to spend the rest of the show in 'the back' because there just never seemed to be a good time to sneak out across the stage to sit in the audience with my friends, it was finally time to go find them (where no less than three people stopped to tell me how much they liked my story), catch up on our adventures, and find out who won the competition. They did make it in, the one friend having to cover the other, and had a $50 bar bill for me to pay, because they had been required to have two drinks each (before the competition even started, the lady who had flown in had a friend stop back to tell her he was leaving because of a dispute with the bar staff over not having cash, and wanting to use his credit card). Luckily, I had $51 in my wallet, not that the $1 would have done much, one of my friends had covered the $12 it cost us to go through the tunnel - there was nothing cheap about this evening, including the entire $40 tank of gas it took to get there and back. On the way out, The Hebrew Mamita was hawking books in the lobby, so I got to stop and schmooze her a second which was wonderful (♥), then it was back on the street with the boys, where it had finally stopped raining. Hooray. At the parking garage, they wanted $48 for having stored my car for a few hours, ouch, and we trudged on home with a happy vengeance. I believe there were even roadside cheeseburgers...all in all, it probably cost me about $160 to go down to the City and give a stuttered performance that didn't earn me a spot on the 11.5 minute video that got posted, featuring 'the highlights' of the show - every performer except myself and another woman. Mostly fine with me, I was a bit terrified at the thought of a video being posted, and granted the quality is not good, but jeez, was I that bad? I'd kind of like to know...you know? There aren't any pictures of me from the event, either, also serving up double-edged relief and curiosity. Weird crowd. But yeah, in the end, it was totally worth it - for no other reason than to have fun, and even with (partly because of) all the misadventure and expense, it gave me another story to tell, and so we are to the heart of it.

I finally finished my Bachelor's project, and it's time to move out of that story and into another. Add a few bits onto Nexus, get it printed up, show it off. Saint's and Kakiat still waiting in the wings, and now that I've stepped onstage, can I facilitate a group? I'm planning on heading back into academics over the Summer, how does that figure in? Talking stories...file it under 'Things I Should Have Known', remember the words of the wise-woman therapist, and get back to business, there's so much left to do, and so much joy to do it with!

here's the video - I was there! I stood on that stage and spoke, too!

*just a note about my two heroes - they totally had my back Tuesday night. I want to acknowledge them for their driving, the emotional and artistic support, for not letting me chicken out, agreeing to come with me and back me up in the first place, and for bolstering my self-esteem. You guys rock, I couldn't have done it without your help - I wish I'd won the celebrity judge's sister's cookbook so I could tear it in half for you to share! (seriously, that's a joke, I adore the celebrity judge, and I hope her sister's cookbook makes the NY Times best seller's list)

Sephardic Music Festival Story Slam!

2011-12-27T05:29:00.002-05:00

Yay! Look at that! A poster with my name on it...truth is, I'm nervous as hell, because I got into this thing like I get into everything - in an offhand, tossed-off kind of way. 'Oh, I think I'll send in that short piece I wrote'. 'Oh, they invited me to come read?' 'Oh, it's a storytelling competition, and I have to not only memorize my piece, I have to perform it..?' Oh... Well, now I know. I wish I had more time to prepare, but that's not the story of my life. I got kicked out of more clubs than I joined in high school, and I was trying to remember if I've performed out before, because I know I rehearsed for a few plays I was never actually in, for not remembering my lines. Or wouldn't, maybe, because I simply had no desire to be on stage. I remember reading in Dan Masterson's poetry class, and on the Semester at Sea ship, but that's it. I must have sort-of spoken at some point at Goddard, but I have no clear memories of anything other that my level 8 presentation (oh, wait, now I'm remembering some horribly butchered attempts at acting in a few short plays, as well...blech). I read a piece at a workshop at Goddard last semester, another on the end of semester Skype conference call, and will read at my presentation in the Spring. This is a storytelling performance in NYC at the Sephardic Music Festival, though. Feels serious. Professional. A bit over my head, out of my league... It's alright, even though I feel totally unprepared, I am going to follow through and do this thing, for better or worse. It's like jumping in with both feet just before wondering, 'can I swim?' At least I'll know, for the next time...

: )

Mythic Meditations

2011-12-09T14:49:00.005-05:00

Another post that's been attempting to kick its way out of my head for at least a week, now...I've got so much on the brain lately, academically speaking, that it's actually blocking me from being able to write anything down - I need to be clear-headed and calm (or furiously angry) to be able to throw ink (or, in this case, pixels), so I'm going to force myself to get this out hoping that it will allow the floodgates to release the rest of my thesis unimpeded.

I've been thinking about intentionality quite a bit, lately, in terms of language, thoughts and actions. Plenty of people much smarter and more prolific than I have written volumes on the subject, so I won't attempt to explain the theory or workings of it, but will offer my 'moron's-eye-view' as a way to establish some context for the subject I am about to dive into. It is my understanding that by bringing focused attention to an object or thought, it has the potential to carry a specific sort of energy that we may direct in the way of our choosing. It's the reason prayer works. It's as simple as giving positive energy to the Universe as opposed to negative...the difference between YES and NO in a cosmic sense.

Now, here's where I'm gonna lose you with my woo-woo crazy mythological cosmic consciousness rhetoric, but try and hang in there (or go watch some tv, it's up to you), even though we may be headed over the edge of the map of what most people can deal with in terms of sacred shamanistic ju-ju. Really, it's not that big or important, just some fun I chose to whip up to enliven my otherwise lonely evenings, based in/on an experimental synthesis of some of the stories/theories/practices I have come across in my wanderings/wonderings. Come along if you will, go if you must, were off to where there be dragons...

Once upon a time, while wandering through a library wondering what my next step in life should be, a book jumped off the shelf and insisted I read it. Truly. It was the book that introduced to me to the wonderful world of labyrinths, and the mythology of Ariadne, High Priestess and Princess/Queen of ancient Crete. (Interestingly enough, it was also this book that signaled the significance of my initial encounters with my darling child's father, but we'll get into that a bit later.) I was instantly drawn to Ariadne's story - recognized myself in her words, actions, and even her countenance. It was almost eerie, but to someone like me, an experience that lifts the hairs off your skin is one to dive into, and fully explore. Most people have some knowledge of this myth by way of Theseus and a Minotaur, but I assure you, it goes WAY deeper than that, and what lies beneath is much more interesting than what it's been coated in for us to swallow.

Let's talk Ariadne. It is said that when she was born, the god Dionysus claimed her for his own, though unlike that perv Zeus, he left her to her Earthly fate, and let her life unfold like any normal, High Priestess/princess in the matriarchal tradition whose Queendomly birthright was threatened by hostile takeover by power-hungry men who were raping and murdering priestesses on their altars of worship in a violent, blood-rage across the land. The poor girl had the awful luck of becoming infatuated with the dashing young marauder, Theseus, and sailed with him when he left Crete, during the earthquake that destroyed her beautiful palace and city, leaving them in ruins. They sailed to the neighboring island of Naxos, where Ariadne was received as the Holy Royal Highness that she was, and where she was asked to preside, as was her station, over the Dionysian ritual, the end result of which sent Theseus and his Athenians running scared, leaving her behind as they sailed for home. It was at this point in pre-history that Dionysus is said to have claimed his bride, and given her the Crown of Stars.

You're all thinking, "Oh my god, that sounds EXACTLY like YOUR life!" I know, it's uncanny, right? Obviously, I'm joking, but where the significance lies in this particular telling - there are other synchronicities I could get into, but they're not as important to tell for what I'm getting at here - is the relationship between a mortal woman and a god. Given the affinity I have for this myth, and the startling synchronicities I'm choosing to gloss over for the sake of space and time, there was a point in my life (after yet another relationship went sour and dissolved) that I lamented to myself how I didn't want to have to wait 'til I was dead to be claimed by, and joined with, my god. (A month or two after that lament, my beloved baby-daddy, whom I'd been previously introduced to both in my meditations, and by his Timber wolf, walked into my apartment, and the sparks FLEW. About a week later, the first time I went to hang out with him at his house, he showed me a cool book he'd found in the attic - wanna take a guess which book it was? Yeah. It's lived on my bookshelf ever since.)

Taking a step out of the mythology for a minute (but not too far, as you will see), let's talk about my dad. My father was a man of epic proportion - not large per se, in fact, he was short and stocky, well-muscled, well-liked, well-loved. He was the kind of guy you're lucky to meet once in your life, and I was blessed with having him in mine for 30. His buddies called him the 'Bulvan', the Hebrew word for bull...wait, wasn't the Minotaur a man-bull? Wasn't the Minotaur slain in the myth we were discussing? Wasn't Minos, Ariadne's father, the one that was killed while trying to overthrow her country's centuries-old tradition of female rule to save his own neck from the Labrys, the sacrificial double-edged axe of the Cretan temples? Didn't my beloved father die while I was immersed in the study of this mythology? Didn't I find another thesis that had been done on this subject in my school's library - the author which's father had also died during her immersion in it? Doesn't that raise the arm hairs?!

While baby-daddy and my father had little in common in terms of the lives they led, there were/are significant similarities in their 'personhood', or the ways they choose/chose to interact with their worlds - most likely, in my opinion, based on childhoods defined by pain, abuse, neglect, trauma, and any number of other horrible things that in a perfect world, would never be the fate of innocent children. Perhaps that's why I was drawn to him. That, and he's just so darned cute! The man, like my father, has a certain epicness to him. An immensity of Spirit. While he is deeply broken, his light shines forth in a way that is unmistakable - and though I can get caught up in being angry with him for any number of Earthly issues, my Soul feels safe at home with him, and he remains the great love of my heart. The gift of our child, after all, is the greatest gift I can ever hope to receive in this life.

So, getting back to our mythological pagan woo-woo love fest, it's important to note that I met a woman this past year who is probably the only person who can say she is 'married to Jesus' and not send me snickering off into the night muttering, "okay, crazy lady!" In fact, it is most likely my interaction with her that helped me to understand the particular aspect of my relationship to my higher power in terms of how I relate the Ariadne/Dionysus paradigm to my own life. As a result of this realization, I have undertaken to begin 'speaking with the angels'. (Uh oh...this is where I'm gonna start losing those who've hung in this far) It is a well documented...assumption...that there are these energies know as seraphim, cherubim, or angels, depending on what traditions you're familiar with, and I figured I'd give them a shout out, and let them know I was seeking a favor from my lord-god Dionysus, before bringing my request before the All One Itself. And so I called - to them and to him: "please, if you would, send me a worthy Earthly male which with to enjoy congress that I may honor you with the pleasure of my body."

I realize that I should make clear, here, that sex, to me, is a form of worship. A sacred act with which to commune with the Universe, the Original Source, or whatever you call that energy from whence we all came. It is in this spirit that, about a week ago, I lay in my bed and invoked the archangels, cherubim, and seraphim - anything that would listen, really - and asked them to bring my request to the energy I was choosing to identify as Dionysus, if they would be so kind. This is how they answered me - in a lucid dream, I found myself among the clouds, on the softest bed ever, being brought to pleasure by my high school boyfriend. Funny that it was my high school guy, but I guess it makes sense in the way that he was the first man I had sex with that I had an actual connection to - we loved each other in the way 16 - 18 year old kids love each other, with the excitement and rush of discovery and wonderment. Really, given my preference for a certain 'look' (I like a wide variety of men, don't get me wrong, here), they could have plugged in the hair/eye/skin color combo of 85% of my lovers, and any one of them could have fathered a child that looks much like the one I have.

The lucid sex was great! It was like I had popped into the dream while my body was halfway to orgasm, and when I reached it, my high-school-honey and I looked at each other like the kids we were back then, with a certain surprise at how much fun this all was, and got really excited to give it another go in another way, when..."Mom? Mom, are you awake? I already cleaned my room and made myself breakfast, can I watch something?" ...oh, you higher power, you! With your sense of humor! I told the darling little angel of my womb that he was absolutely welcome to do whatever he saw fit if he had the presence of mind to clean his room and make himself breakfast before waking me up on the weekend, before rolling back under my blankets and basking in the afterglow of a mostly-consummated congress with my god-love.

I intend to work further with this meditation, to see what else I am gifted with dreaming, and hopefully, to see what manifests. It's ridiculous, at this point in my life, given the experiences I've had, to pretend these things don't happen, and that we have no power over the manifestations of our own destinies. There was a time in my life when my day-to-day was immersed in the study and practice of the arcane, overly occupied by the occult, and engaging of the Enochian. I have seen the results of focused intention first-hand on numerous occasions, and but for the wearing-down pressure of society to conform and make a living, and single-motherhood, still strive to remain true to the lessons I have been blessed to be given. Living one's dreams is a hard road, but the more I grow, the more I see the importance of remaining true to one's Self, and the many pitfalls and pains that can be avoided in not having to look back and say, "I wish I had done this or that."

It is with intentionality that I ask you to go forth - to choose to see that which catches the edge of your sight, the snowball-sized flashes of light outside the window rising into the air as the radio that was off crackles next to you, to listen to your dreams and find peace in your hearts. For me, this is the only way. I think, for all of us, this is the only way. My love attempts to cover us all - some days, I fail completely, but for the most part, if I choose to be more intentional about it, I feel that I can succeed. That all of us can succeed, with the blessing of my love to carry us all home. ♥

*the references are all pulled off the web, as it was convenient for me to do so. if you have any further questions about some of the more esoteric information, feel free to contact me - wikipedia doesn't know everything!

Dona Nobis Pacem - BlogBlast for Peace 2011

2011-11-04T12:22:00.002-04:00

I'm really glad to have turned on my computer this morning and found out it was BlogBlast for Peace day, because the process of looking up a quote to post that spoke to me helped bring a certain sense of calm to my troubled mind. Troubled because of the last round of bullying emails from my mother (the biggest disruptor of my own personal peace), because of the many Occupy movements that have shown us the arrests of and injuries to our honored veterans and fellow citizens (including the outright murder of one of the peaceful protester's dog), and also in light of the recent video of the abuse of a teenage girl with cerebral palsy by her family court judge father (both her parents beat her with a belt for an illegal download). I think we all could use a bit more Peace in our lives...

There is no trust more sacred than the one the world holds with children. There is no duty more important than ensuring that their rights are respected, that their welfare is protected, that their lives are free from fear and want and that they grow up in peace.

-- Kofi Annan

Peace is something we need to cultivate in our own Selves, in our hearts and minds first, and then to each other. Peace is something that needs to spread over us all, like a blanket, like a wave of love, drawing us closer to each other and recognizing that we need each other to evolve. Peace means taking the hand of someone you don't understand and making an honest attempt to see things from their point of view. It means listening to each other, and hearing what we have to say. I am not naive enough to believe that living and being this way will come without conflict, but like anything worthwhile, it will take a lot of hard work - work that is, in the long run, extremely worthwhile.

In the hearts of people today there is a deep longing for peace. When the true spirit of peace is thoroughly dominant, it becomes an inner experience with unlimited possibilities. Only when this really happens - when the spirit of peace awakens and takes possession of men's hearts, can humanity be saved from perishing.

-- Albert Schweitzer

It's interesting to me that there are so many good quotes about peace to be found - obviously, intelligent people have been having this discussion for quite some time, maybe even since the beginning of time, and we still don't have it. Why is that? Why are there still tens of thousands of American troops in the middle-east? I think it's really great that our current administration wants to bring them all home - and they should - but I worry about where they will find jobs...and murder their families because they won't get the psychological counseling they surely need. I don't even want to get into my issues with overpopulation!

Peace is not an absence of war, it is a virtue, a state of mind, a disposition for benevolence, confidence, justice.

-- Baruch Spinoza

I wonder what can be done on a global level, and find myself wondering what can be done in my own heart. How can I reach peace with my family when they refuse to acknowledge that I exist? How can I possibly love someone who turns their heart against my child? How can I continue to throw loving vibrations at my mother when she continues in her attempt to bully me into bending to her will? How can I be the change I wish to see in the world? How can I show my child that even though his genetic family wants nothing to do with him, that there is still an abundance of love in this world?

It isn't enough to talk about peace. One must believe in it. And it isn't enough to believe in it. One must work at it.

--Eleanore Roosevelt

Well, that's really all the time I have to dedicate to this right now, and unless I want to turn it into an essay of epic proportion complete with footnotes and and a resource list, I'll have to end it here. Thinking about peace and how to come by it is no easy task, but one I take up willingly, each and every day. I ask myself the questions - and though I don't always succeed, I attempt to live inside the answers I find within my own heart. When I mess up, I apologize, and/or vow to do better next time. I want to be a catalyst for change - I actively seek opportunities to bridge misunderstanding, and usually learn more than I could possibly teach. So I ask you - how do you hold the dream in your heart? Peace ~

Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.

-- Harriet Tubman

There are two ways of spreading light: to be the candle, or the mirror that reflects it.

-- Edith Wharton

BlogBlast for Peace 2011

Remembrance

2011-10-23T16:36:00.005-04:00

*I have no idea why I decided to write this, but after sharing it with a friend, she suggested I post it here - so here it is:

Most days, I think that I've forgotten more than I remember, but for some reason, an extraordinary moment popped into my head, so I thought I'd share...

In Israel, for my brother's wedding. We took the wedding party to climb Masada - this must be done at 2am, during the still, cool, in-between time of the desert before the sun rises and bakes everything to death. You want to be up that Snake Path in time to witness the heart-stopping glory of the Sun rising over that parched, tan sand, explore the ruins, have an experience, and be back down before noon, seeking shelter from the brutal afternoon heat. When we see people attempting to ascend on our way down, we warn them back, and send them to the cable cars - tell them the secret to this journey, tell them to try again tomorrow. I have made this climb many times since the first, when I was 8 in 1977. This time...this time, a fence had been erected blocking our entrance to the site. My father the paratrooper, my father the Israeli war veteran, one of the first of those who entered the Old City of Jerusalem on that day back in '67 and gave us back our Wall, while my mother waited back on the kibbutz with their newborn son who, all these years later, had just been married - didn't miss a beat; he tore a hole in the fence with his bare hands so we could get through. When the tanks pulled up and found us standing there, half of our group (the bride's family) standing terrified on the 'outside', not knowing what to do, and into what kind of crazy family they had just married their daughter, and our people, on the 'inside', knowing full well that when those tanks reached us, we wanted to be behind my dad. There was a heated debate, most of which I didn't understand, at the end of which, the tanks pulled away, sheepishly saluting my fierce and fuming father, and apologizing for having interrupted his sacred journey. And up we went. The pace was slow, as we were so many, and some were old, and I grew more and more impatient as the sky lightened in the East. So I ran. I ran the rest of the way up the wild twists and turns of the Snake Path, and found myself alone on top of that mountain. I sat on a rock, facing the direction of the soon-to-be rising sun, pulled out and assembled my silver flute, that I had chosen to carry with me on that day. And I played. I played what my soul moved me to - Hatikva, the Israeli national anthem. As it echoed out across the valley, low and sweet, I felt the stir deep, deeper, deepest in my soul, and I watched that magnificent orange globe peek itself over the horizon, and rise to my song. And as the last notes faded over the flat top of this monument to the strength of my people, my father appeared at the top of the trail, his eyes bright with feeling and wonder, looking to me and saying, "that was beautiful!" I was shocked. It hadn't occurred to me that anyone else was hearing me play - the moment had felt so private. But my dad said it had echoed all the way down the trail, and had pulled him forward to see who was playing - and it was me. He was blown away. I was a bit embarrassed, but also immensely proud. And here we were, father and daughter, loving each other through this experience, and having shared something so tender, so...private and fragile, that I will never forget it, and will honor this memory all the days of my life. It's almost 13 years now since my father passed on, but he lives every day in my heart, in my soul, in that song - and in our moment together, on that mountain. Selah ~

A Good, Clean Vent

2011-10-18T14:31:00.000-04:00

I had expected the email from my mother, as we're supposed to have another one of those court ordered dinner dates tomorrow night. I was not ready for my reaction to what it said. I'm going to copy and paste the relevant text here, so you can all tell me I'm crazy, and that I should let it go:

"So are we on for tomorrow? It is supposed to be

rainy and icky. Alternatively we could move our

time to saturday or sunday if you are free and

then we could spend a little more time together.

Let me know what you would like to do."

Seems innocuous enough, right? Well, it apparently set off every trigger I have, and I was unable to respond past saying that it was full of triggers, and I couldn't respond right now... What triggers, you wonder? Well, let's start with the 'are we on'. OF COURSE we're ON! Why wouldn't we be? I made PLANS with her, and my CHILD is EXPECTING her!!! This is a pet peeve of mine that she is particularly adept at tripping over - there are YEARS worth of 'I'll call you tomorrows' that turned into next month. Obviously a promise to me - and now, to my child - means nothing. Just words filling up space. Another way of telling us that we're less than important. It's supposed to RAIN?!?! THAT'S a good enough excuse to blow off the grandson that you just spent THOUSANDS of dollars dragging my ass through court to see? She just bought a BRAND NEW CAR, which I'm sure has BRAND NEW tires and BRAND NEW brakes and wipers, and she can't handle the rain?!?!?! While I was forced to make multiple trips down to the courthouse in my broken-down DEATH machine, that I have to put my child in every other day or so just to do the laundry and the grocery shopping - not to mention my poor client! My brakes are GONE, my tires are SHOT, I have a piece of PLASTIC for a WINDOW, and I have to climb in and out through the passenger's side because my door is SMASHED IN - driving my vehicle in bad weather is a truly terrifying experience, and SHE can't handle a little rain... So I told her we were busy this weekend, which we are. We have two parties to attend, one of which has been on the calendar for a month, now, and the other is a friend's birthday party - tough luck, Grandma, sucks for you. Hang on, another email just came in - - -

It says she'll be here tomorrow at 5. NOW the challenge is to accept that gracefully, and not hit her with, "don't do me any favors", or "if you're sure you can handle it". But now I'm all riled up and angry, and need to find a way to calm down...I do realize that I need to accept the occasional 'something suddenly came up' (nod to The Brady Bunch), but after so many years of being blown off for the littlest thing, I suppose I'm still a bit raw. I'd rather not have to do this at all, as it's really more of a favor to her, but I agreed to it, and if nothing else, it's one night a month that I don't have to cook dinner. Right? Right. Glad I got that out. Now, to get through the dinner...

Happy Jew Year

2011-10-14T12:52:00.002-04:00

See, I can say that because I'm a Jew...though it's almost Celtic New Year as well. Anyway, it's been awhile, as once again I've gotten bogged down in my process, had a million things to do, didn't feel good, had a fly on my toe, and whatever other excuses I feel like making because it's MY blog, and I can write or not write as I see fit. But. I think about writing every day. I think 'I should write about this or that, but I can't because I'm supposed to be working on (insert any number of other things I need to be working on here)'. Pathetic, right? And Hey! I just got an email! Why don't I jump over to facebook and see who said something witty about someone else's kid putting underpants on their head, YAY! Oh, never mind, it was from the PTA...

So, yeah - the last time I posted was before I headed up to Vermont for what I hope was my last residency as an undergrad (but I've been here before, kids, don't get too excited). The weather was amazing, the residency was fully inspiring, we got to hang out with good friends, the boy got to spend the weekend with his dad, and I didn't crash the car into anything. Big win all around! Then we came home to hurricane Irene, and spent more than week cleaning up the mess she left behind, and all I wanted to do was sleep off the recurrence of the skin rash that re-erupted while I was at the residency. My right ankle and my face (neck, decolletage, arms) swelled back up and began oozing, itching, peeling and generally drove me insane for the better part of a month, until my face finally managed to normalize, and my ankle is back to just the oddly inexplicable patch of horrendous that has lived there for many years, and remains a mystery to my health care practitioner. I'm thinking it's food related - I'm looking at you, Dairy and Wheat (and sugar)! I did a one week juice fast - I was hoping to do two weeks, but my alarming inability to plan meals and budget my money precluded that - which helped me recover, I think, and I'd like to do another one, now that I have a better idea of how to do it properly.

The young one went back to school - 2nd grade! - and started taking karate twice a week. He's doing great, bringing me home grades to make a mama swoon with pride, and a talking in class issue that makes me want to scream. Although if being a chatterbox is the worst of what I have to deal with from him, then I'm just going to take a deep breath, and institute a rewards system - so the child is exuberant and social, big deal. I'm simply not going to punish him for it - help him work on curbing it, yes. Freak out? Big N.O. Counting my blessings and picking my battles over here, thanks!

Then there was the Epic Court Nonsense of 2011 - my lovely 'mother' and her heinous lawsuit. Guess what? SHE LOST!!! HAHAhahahaa! She spent thousands of dollars to get a judge to tell her she was/is out of line, and needs to back off of me post haste. I was so high on good feelings and energy after that, I could have flown home on my own harmonious vibration! What's really interesting, is that now the case is over, she wants to be my new best friend and hang out all the time and call and email...like she didn't sit in a court of law, swear an oath, and attempt to paint a picture of me as a mentally unbalanced and abusive mother, undeserving of anyone's respect. Priceless! Whatever. She failed to convince anyone of that non-reality, and I refuse to allow her to just pretend it didn't happen. What she did was so beyond unacceptable that I will never allow her back into my life in a way that gives her power to hurt me or my son ever again. I am forgiving, forgetting and moving on - but I want very much to remember the pain and anguish she put us through this past year, so I can avoid falling into one of her sick traps when she sets them. The power is mine, now, and the best way for me to use it is to build a better relationship with my child, based on love, respect, understanding and open lines of communication. To further spread my net of joy and connectedness, to revel in the beauty of ALL life, and the ties that bind us to this beautiful planet and each other. To find the silver lining...and to help others find theirs.

I feel very close to experiencing pure bliss, and I have more good days than bad, at this point. I feel enlarged, as if my soul is making room for the explosion of blessedness seeping in from every direction as I settle into the 'dark half' of my 42nd year, and 'answers' reveal themselves at such an alarming rate that it gives me vertigo! I hope the good energy that is flowing through me is finding a way to reach you, and that You, whoever you are, are open to accepting it with all your heart. Wish me luck on having the grounding to be able to complete my project, this time around, and help me find the strength to close the door on that chapter of my life so I can walk towards new dreams, achieve new goals, and fulfill some long buried desires. I love you all - whoever you are - I love you. ♥

Summer Stock Sunday - random shots and bubbles

2011-08-14T23:30:00.001-04:00

you'll probably want to click on some of these to see more detail:

I just love it when it rains while the sun is shining!

herons on the reservoir

a purple, fuzzy gift from our friend Richard!

the scene on the 'green' this afternoon (that face!)

giant bubble! fly! be free!

kid joy

♥

"can I try?"

"Mom, did you see?!?" the nice lady actually gave him that bubble wand!

Summer Stock Sunday - shapes

2011-08-07T11:53:00.001-04:00

I got nothing this week.

My son has these building toys called K'Nex, which he constructed these cool shapes out of the other day, and I was inspired to capture them. So I played with them a bit in Windows Photo Gallery (my lame excuse for Photoshop). Here are the interesting, yet mediocre results of my efforts. Hey, we can't all be awesome everyday! Happy Sunday ~

come see what other people are posting!

Summer Stock - garden

2011-07-31T05:57:00.003-04:00

welcome to my 2011 garden! (it looks quite a bit like my 2009 garden!)

this year I'm trying peas...

(this is where it might be nice to have some control over the focus - the phone couldn't quite capture the beautiful little tendril spiraling around the twine)

painted daisies

(these just get taller, lankier and fewer...)

carrot (yes, singular)

peppers

carrot and peppers

(the carrot seems to have evaporated after the last rain, and I found two fat, happy caterpillars amongst the remains of the peppers)

'seed bombs' - the boy brought these home from school. it's basically a dried mud ball rolled up with wildflower seeds inside it. seems like a great idea, we'll see what happens!

the peas look fantastic! I'm not quite sure what's going on with the daisies, I had a bunch of sprouts, but they seem to have mostly fallen over, though they're still growing, so we'll see... the seed bombs look to be stuck in perpetual seedling state, having never grown passed their first or second leaf sets. the carrot the boy brought home from school in a milk container, just as we were moving, and the poor thing sprouted, so I gave it its own pot - I don't have the heart to give up on it, yet! the peppers sprouted later than everything else, but they seem to be growing nicely - keeping in mind it's already the end of July, and I'm not sure when pepper season is... but that's how I garden - throw in some seeds when I feel like it, and see what comes up!

*update - obviously, I need to keep a closer eye out for caterpillars...found bunches of them on the peas as well as the peppers. the carrot is done for, and I'll keep my fingers crossed for any of the pepper plants (a shame, they were doing so well!). the seed bomb seedlings are hanging in there, and the peas are starting to climb!

Summer Stock Sunday - (2)4th of July!

2011-07-23T22:43:00.001-04:00

well, here are they are, finally, and while I didn't quite get it down to 10, I really tried to keep it within reason! we had a lot of fun at the fair, and we've had even more since then - if a thunderstorm comes through to break up the heat and humidity, maybe I'll get a chance to catch up! come on over to Around The Island to see what other folks have been up to!

the lights, the rides!

the fireworks!

boy in orange shirt on green rocket

the carousel

money shot?

the games

slipping out the back

Summer Stock - 1st day of camp

2011-07-17T00:00:00.003-04:00

backpacks

summertime!

oh, how I love this lighting

catch ya later!

I'm gonna take my cue from Robin and keep it short - I'm two weeks behind in my photo editing, and it looks like I won't be getting to those 4th of July pics 'til next week! I took over a hundred shots of the fireworks and all of the flashy lights, and I'm in the process of narrowing it down to hopefully less than 10! It's turning out to be a super busy Summer for us, but we're having fun - hope it's the same for all of you! Happy Summer Stock Sunday - come see what's up in other corners of the world at Around The Island!

Summer Stock - swimming hole

2011-07-10T09:29:00.001-04:00

so peaceful

gorgeous

fun

gettin' jiggy with it

heading home

I can't believe it took me this long to think of putting up this cool picture/link so everyone who actually reads MY blog can jump over to Robin's Around The Island and share in the fun!

Summer Stock images - then you're dust

2011-07-02T12:18:00.002-04:00

I was drawn by the skull and crossbones

wow

layers

C.G.

D.B.

wow again, with the moss...

George Washington prayed here

I also made a video of these images, with the Robyn Hitchcock song 'Then You're Dust', which you can see here.

Summer Stock video - then you're dust

2011-07-02T12:00:00.009-04:00

While I was looking at the photos I took of some old gravestones in a churchyard in Kingston the other day (I know, my fascination with them is a bit morbid), Robyn Hitchcock's song 'Then You're Dust' kept running through my head. So I got an idea - why not a Summer Stock video! It's the first video I've ever attempted, and the process was extremely frustrating, but I think it's cute in the way little children are when they present you with piles of glue with bits stuck in them like they've created La Tour Eiffel out of sheer determination, and beaming with pride. I actually giggled when it was finally done (yes, this lame attempt at videography took hours to complete)! The sound is awful, and I'll tell you why - the only copy I have of this song is on cassette (remember those, kids?), and the only tape player I have is in the car...I actually sat in my car at some time past midnight, cranking the volume loud enough to record the song (poorly) on my Blackberry, and then download it to my iTunes so I could join it with the images, and voila! Crappy video! *giggle* I hope you enjoy it - or at least spare a nod for the little artist girl inside holding up the pile of glue and bits...thanks for checking it out!

What I also find humorous about this week's post is that I took a bunch of pics at the swimming hole of the gorgeous sunlight streaming down through the leaves of the trees and reflecting in the water of the clean, clear river/creek, and a few of the boy's first day of camp, but instead I chose to spend hours working on this little project late into the night to bring you...death! I'll post those happier Summer images next week, I promise! In the meantime, enjoy contemplating your mortality - in terms of my own end of life choices, I want my body (after I've passed, of course) to be burned on a wooden pyre on a mountaintop, and the ashes left to sift in the wind, with nothing to mark the spot. I am here, someday I will be gone, and that will be all there is/was for me. With no disrespect to anyone or their beliefs, it has always been my opinion that cemetaries are little more than a narcissistic waste of good land that could be used to create organic community gardens for those who are in need. And don't get me started on the wasted space of city rooftops, where the potential for feeding the hungry and the dispossessed looms large...

*I realized after posting and playing the video that the stones are really hard to see, so I'm gonna put the images up as well, in case anyone wants to see them in more detail, here.

DivaCup giveaway!

2011-06-30T14:15:00.000-04:00

just a quickie post to let you all know about the DivaCup giveaway over at Moma Lovebug, be sure to check it out!

from the DivaCup website:

"The menstrual cup was first developed in the 1930’s. It was made from rubber latex (an allergen for many). Millions were sold in those first years by multiple companies.

Because of management issues, the companies closed and menstrual cups were hard to find. Then over 15 years ago, Francine recognized the need for an alternative to unreliable disposable tampons and pads and found a company offering menstrual cups. She and her daughter, Carinne, singlehandedly resurrected the 75 year old menstrual cup concept by reintroducing this product to the world market when it was virtually unknown. They sold this rubber/latex version for 10 years.

In 2003, drawing on their experience and expert knowledge about the menstrual cup category, they developed a modern redesign, made from soft, top-quality silicone, to meet the needs of today’s woman. They launched their own company, Diva International. Their revolutionary concept, The DivaCup, is patent-pending and ISO certified. Today, The DivaCup is the preferred choice.

The DivaCup Team has over 38 years of combined experience in natural feminine hygiene alternatives. Their passion is to provide women an environmentally responsible, convenient and reliable alternative to tampons and pads."

Summer Stock - travels

2011-06-26T18:55:00.001-04:00

first night at the new place

candles lighting the trail into the woods to the 'magic meadow' where we joined the local hippies in celebrating the Summer Solstice

8 hours in the car, round-trip - not how we wanted to spend our first day of Summer vacation!

...but it's okay, because we're almost home, and it was for a good reason

not the shot I wanted, but there was a cop behind me, so I thought it might be wise to stop snapping pics out the car window..!

Happy Sunday Everyone!

Summer Stock Tuesday...

2011-06-21T09:36:00.000-04:00

Sorry so late this week, just been busy. Organizing from the move, work, school, just everything. A bit too much, and I'm overwhelmed. Not much to show, but here it is anyway - enjoy.

Petey enjoying the new views

end of year school picnic

the love of my life

Looking forward to having a minute to see what everyone else shared! Blessed Solstice, all, welcome to Summer!

Summer Stock Kaleidoscope

2011-06-12T10:10:00.000-04:00

I'm in the middle of moving, so super quick post just to get it up there - here are some really crappy snapshots of the world's largest kaleidoscope (I was lying on the floor, shooting up at the images swirling on the ceiling). The kaleidoscope is built out of an old silo at the Emerson Resort up in Mt. Pleasant, or Mt. Tremper or somewhere, I'll post the link. It's on Rt. 28, between Woodstock where I live, and Pine Hill where I work. I pass it alot, and I finally took the chance to hop off the highway on route to or fro, because I had the boy in the car - glad I did, very fun!

http://emersonplace.com/shopping-attractions/hudson-valley-activities/

Happy Summer Stock Sunday!

Have I mentioned..?

2011-06-09T01:57:00.001-04:00

Breathe In

Breathe Out

It's all going to be okay.

heart thumping too high in my chest, I hear the Death Rattle

I know that's what it is, but I can't understand why it's coming from me

It shouldn't be coming from me.

breathe in and breathe out

watch Rachel dance

is it the lightening that brings her?

and I thought I saw the Moon, maybe nearer to full, through the leaves of the trees?

I've been so flat out, and there's a bit more in the coming, the last push up over the 'okay let's set and rest here for a spell'.

then to get to some healing...

to rest my weary wounds in the woods, roll my troubled bones abed, to hear the burbled whisper of the very blood flowing through, on it's way to where, beating the heart tremulous, staring its worried blood eyes up at the valves as it passes through, wondering as a motorist might in a tunnel, "wonder how long it's been since they did any work in here?" Questioning the structural integrity, mentally scheduling a power wash, pulling up Rachel on YouTube and listening to the snap crackle and pop of my body wanting desperately to remember how to move like a Body rather than a...a...thing, a cog, a manufactured posture - more like an instrument of joy, an expression of love, a feeling that endures. Oh, the flow of it, where is my music? My soft-skinned Dionysus, waiting benign in my dreams to offer that Youth, that smooth-bellied sacrilege, that one from the stories...he waits for me in eternity, will take my hand and lead me home, the 'tired child' from Malaclypse's circus, where I can slake my thirst of all desires, and be at peace.

Yes, I think it may be the lightening...

and oh, for the Love of Mardi!

Summer Stock Sunday

2011-06-05T19:50:00.002-04:00

Last Summer, my steadily shrinking garden took a major hit in the move up here to Woodstock. Two of my plants that I'd had for going on 20 years were laid to rest, and the above newer addition was looking pretty beaten down, but I chose to cut it back, and now there's three little babies trying to make a go of it - yay team.

The philodendron is looking well, filling out nicely with long, well-leafed trailers, reaching all the way down to commune with Baby Alfred, the replacement for one of those 20-year plants I regretted to lose. Also note the milk container with the carrots, black beans, and sunflowers the boy planted at school, along with the 'seed bombs' they made (seeds rolled in compost and clay dust with water).

And then, there's the constant reality of my transient lifestyle, the boxes cluttering up the place as we make ready for yet another move, hopefully the last for several years, at least, if I dare even type that out for fear that things may actually start to settle down for me a bit..!

That's how the Summer is starting out for me so far - I'm interested to see where the season takes us, and what fun things I get to see through the eyes of the others that choose to share their lazy hazy crazy days over at Around the Island! See ya next week!

June 2011

2011-06-03T14:04:00.000-04:00

It's time, once again, for my friend's Summer Stock Summer project, and I'm certainly looking forward to it - I began participating very soon after starting this blog, and just about every picture I took for the past two Summers have been of my kid swimming, my kid playing in water, my kid and his friends playing in water, and...my kid. Did I mention that the only thing I ~~photograph~~ take digital images of anymore is my kid? Remember how I studied Photography in college? Using real cameras, film and equipment? Remember all those hours in the darkroom breathing chemicals? Well, I do! And seeing as how I now live right up the street from some community darkrooms (thank goodness), it looks like I'll be making an attempt to brush some of the rust off of those hard-earned skills. Don't get me wrong, I'm sure there will be plenty of camera-phone shots of the boy in and around water - because hey, it's almost Summer, and he's a great subject - but I miss having the time and making the effort to just...shoot. Going out into the world with no other intention besides finding a shot. It's been a long time.

Things have been admittedly crazy around here, but it seems that most of the stupidness has passed. I doubt it's gone entirely, but there is much less nonsense staring me in the face every day as there was just a week or two ago. The Supreme Court of Orange County has wisely decided to dismiss/transfer my former mother's case to Family Court, where both the child and I can get legal assistance, so while it's not over, at least the playing field has been leveled, and things don't look so desperate every day (not to mention that I no longer have to spend hours each day on the phone/doing legal research while trying to build a case myself, a task to which I am poorly suited). This is a great relief to me.

I am also in the process of moving, yet again, which is a relief, even in its stressfulness. It turns out that the temperature frequently soars above 90 degrees in my son's (illegal) room, and that even though the landlord here advertised for a non-smoking tenant, every other person who lives in this building smokes, and as a result, MY apartment often smells like an ashtray. Pleasant. Let me just take this moment to pat myself on the back for being 8 months smoke-free, and how proud I am of myself for managing to navigate some of the hardest emotional times in my life without my old frenemy, Tobacco. The longest I've ever gone without smoking was 9 months, so I'm waiting for the 1-year mark to really celebrate, but I feel positive that this time, I've licked it for good! I also feel positive that this move will be to a place we can stay at for a few years - at least until the boy is out of elementary school, and to think that I can live somewhere for 4 years or more is hopefully becoming a reality I never thought I'd see. I still want to run away and live with my Rainbow Family every other day, but having a stable home may well facilitate more free time to spend with the freaks in the woods as monetary demands allow (damn you, Societal Expectations!). Although, come to think of it, I do live in Woodstock now, and my hippie quota may well be fulfilled by just walking around town this Summer...but no, it's really about living outside the bounds of what Society says is acceptable, and forming the kinds of community that respect and nurture all of it's members equally, but I should learn to do my best to promote that kind of togetherness in the town I choose to live in, as well.

I feel much freer to concentrate on the aspects of my life that have been troubling me, or demanding my attention of late, such as learning to be even healthier, making more of an effort to model an active lifestyle to my child, and taking steps to help others within my community. I'm working with two individuals who are living with disabilities and/or illness, and it's SOO much more fulfilling than working as a lackey to a Big Boss with the main goal of separating people from their money! I've spent way too many years in sales, and while it can be fulfilling to help an artist make their paper, it's also sad to see the majority of that money end up in the pocket of an agent who wouldn't know a creative process if it came wrapped in $100 bills. Having someone say 'thank you' because the work I'm doing is helping to make their lives more manageable is much more fulfilling than any $15,000 sale ever was! Even working at the orchard, where the goods I peddled were locally grown fruits and veggies, the bottom line was always the Evil Dollar - and while I learned a lot and loved most of our customers, there wasn't much opportunity for growth within the business. While I don't yet know how far I can go with my current work, I do know it feels good to be doing it, and for now, that's enough.

I feel as if removing the toxic situations from my life has had an incredibly positive effect on my health, and I plan to pay careful attention to that, no matter how hard it may be to admit when a situation or a friendship has run its course. Don't think it didn't break my heart to finally admit to myself that my blood relations were never going to love me for Me, and to let that connection go, but in the long run, it's the right thing to do, to be able to be fully who I am. So many of my friends have helped to nurture me over the years, that all my Sisters in Arms out there in the Universe have manifested as the Mom-I-always-wanted-but-never-had, so while I have felt the loss of the One Who Carried Me, I have been held up by the strong bonds of common understanding, and managed to stay strong because of the web of love woven by those who see what I've got going on, and love and respect me for it. And thanks to the boys, as well, though I've needed you less, and mostly just for sex, and picking up heavy things... : )

So, I've had a few really bad weeks in row, and now a good one to temper the sorrow, and it feels like things are starting to even out a bit for me. I am remembering to feel gratitude for all the gifts I have been given, and to expect the best for the future. Summer is almost upon us, and I'm looking forward to the long, lazy evenings and weekends spent at the swimming hole - I found the local swimming hole, oh joy of joys! I think I lived in and around Plainfield for 2 or 3 years before someone took me to Paradise, and then another year before I was able to find it on my own... I've found myself so angry and resentful of those whom I've perceived to have 'more' - the house, the husband, the nice things, the loving family - and I'm feeling now like what I have is just enough for me: a roof over our heads, a small circle of tight friends, everything we need and a few things we wanted regardless of need, and my sweet darling angel of a boy. What could be better? Right now, in this moment, everything is perfect in my world, and I offer thanks for it being so.

Some thoughts on 'drama', and social networking not working...for me

2011-05-20T16:19:00.001-04:00

I'm not an overly dramatic person, and I tend to avoid the spotlight in favor of maintaining my lone wolf status, but I will admit that my recent Crackbook post was a bit over the top. I got waayyyyy more involved in the online community than I ever intended, and my real life personal relations suffered for it. Truth is, as it has so blithely been pointed out time and again, the illusion of having so many friends can be deceiving, and can fool one into thinking people are there for you, when they simply are not. I send thanks to those who attempted to reach out to me when they feared the worst. I also temper those thanks with the question, "where are you today? Where were you before then? Where will you be in the future?" Great, so I didn't die that night, but what about the next? And the next after that? How many of you actually know what I go through in a day, a week, a month? How many of you actually care? And is that caring about me, or about an extension of yourself?

For those of you who pay attention, I addressed many of the questions and attitudes I have about suicide in a previous post, and any of you who actually READ this blog don't really have an excuse to have thought I would actually kill myself. To be sure, if I were going to check out of here, I would make sure my son was safely ensconced with his father, first, and not be lying in a pool of blood on the living room floor for him to find when he gets off the school bus. So, thanks for the vote of confidence, I really appreciate it.

CALLING THE POLICE, OR ANY MEMBER OF MY FORMER FAMILY IS INEXCUSABLE AND UNACCEPTABLE!!! I know you thought you were doing the right thing, but I want to make clear for any future concerns that this is not the approved course of action. The approved course of action is to calmly let me know either by phone or by email that you care deeply for me, and are willing to help in any way possible. Coming to my house and knocking on my door is also acceptable. I don't care how far away you live - I once drove 15 hours straight across the country for a friend whose parent had died. (To my friend who called the cops - that's 12 1/2 hours farther away than you were, Monday night, and they were merely grieving a passing that was expected.) I would do so again, without a second thought for most of you. Ask yourselves if you're willing to do that before you jump all over any of my posts again - not that I'll give you the chance, I learned my lesson the hard way...

So, enough with the social network, and back to the blog. Read it or don't. If you feel moved to comment, which some of you sometimes are, PLEASE comment on the blog, not on the link to the blog. I'm not interested in 90% of the crap that gets posted on the 'book'...well, maybe more like 50%, I'm not sure. I really dig the science tidbits from my science teacher friend, and the music links from my DJ/musician friend, and some of the interesting news articles I wouldn't otherwise have noticed from my newshound friends. Some of you are downright amusing, some of you are flat out annoying (but you get deleted, so you won't be seeing this!), some of you I just love so damn much I don't care what you post! My email and my phone number are listed on my info page - please make note of them if you want to continue communicating with me out in the world of forms, okay? Okay.

Enough about that , and we get up and move on. Shit still sucks. I'm still embroiled in what looks to a be an ugly, ongoing legal battle with my 'mother' without representation, I still have to move post-haste (ANY AND ALL OF YOU ARE ~~INVITED~~ BEGGED TO COME HELP. PLEASE.) to I-don't-know-where yet, and my car is still smashed up beyond my ability to fix it. If you have any solutions, feel free to contact me by the traditional methods, or leave a comment here. Thanks again.

M

Another Year in Review

2011-05-20T13:55:00.003-04:00

Holy crap, another year gone? It's hard to believe that another year has slipped by so quickly, and where the fuck am I ? Same goddamned place, a bit worse or a bit better for wear - I'm not sure, it's a hard call. Maybe I'll leave it to you to decide...

Last year found me out of work, and deciding to go back to school. That didn't work out so well. All it left me was further in debt, and still without my degree. I felt inspired to do some really positive work, and I still do, but 'real life' keeps getting in my way - which is stupid, because creating is the only 'real life' I have, and everything else is just another bullshit way to make paper, another endeavor I have proven to be most unsuccessful with. 'Nexus', my epic work-in-progress still has not seen the light of day, and I started a few other projects that have now been relegated to the top of the 'when I have time and money' pile. I didn't just walk away from Goddard - once again, events transpired to derail me from my chosen path, and that calls into question either my commitment to my work, or my inability to stand true in the face of adversity, take your pick. Or have both, I'm not choosy. Epic fail, both ways, in my opinion.

The biggest obstacle to my pursuit of the elusive degree was The Fight, as I will call it. The unequivocal nail in the coffin of the relationship I had with my former relatives, the 'family' I was born into. While I do, and will, miss my nephew and nieces, they will all eventually turn 18 and make their own decisions. Other than them, and a few cousins, I'm not really all that unhappy to see the rest of them go. Had I left them without a word 22 years ago, my life may have taken the shape I keep willing for it by now, without all the lingering clouds of doubt cast by the naysayers who never had my best interests in mind. Sadly, The Bitch has brought this stupid, useless lawsuit into my life, and I fear it will take awhile longer to be fully rid of them after all. We will all have cake and do our happy dance together when it is done - with the Universe's blessing, I pray with all my heart, to please let it be so.

The stress that The Fight has caused in my life has undoubtedly contributed to the tinnitus I now suffer from on a constant basis, as well as the rash that resides on my right foot. To be fair, the rash has been there for awhile (though not as long as these 'familial issues'), but the scratching of it is a stress-response, to be sure. On the other hand, my doctor ran some blood tests and found me to be seriously deficient in the vitamin D department, and beefing up on that particular necessity has helped calm the hurt. I haven't been smoking for awhile now, coming up on 8 months, just one month short of the longest I've gone without cigarettes for the past 27 or so years of addiction, and I'm pretty happy about that! My skin seems to have healed pretty well from the burning swelling itchy what-the-fuck that happened as an assumed (more blood tests, awaiting results) allergic reaction to one of the supposedly healthy things I ingested in my attempt to walk the road to wellness - the culprits include the vitamin D, the probiotic, the fish oil, or the 'mercury cleanse', with suspicion resting heavily on the fish oil and the cleanse. More on that when I get the results of the latest vampirism. Also a high note - neither Zev nor I have suffered from any of the annual cold/flu/sinusitis/ear infections since our exodus from the County of Orange, and I am thanking the Universe for that blessing as well. And I'm down 10 pounds, to boot...though, again, that may just be from stress. Whatevs, I'll take it where I can get it!

We will, unfortunately, be moving again, and I wish the decision to where wasn't plaguing me the way it is. On the one hand, I frakking hate NY, and have a sincere itch to hightail it back up to VT with all possible haste. On the other hand, the boy is doing super-awesome in school, and I don't want to remove him from yet another peer group. In NY I have a job and decent health care, the kid's in a good school, and I have one close friend who I feel I can almost count on. In VT I have the child's father, and a few close friends I can mostly count on. I need to leave my apartment because I've managed to somehow be blessed with a section 8 voucher (housing assistance), and the apartment I'm in is not approved by them. I can take my voucher anywhere in the U.S., so...for once I have some options, and I want to think carefully about where I need to be that will best serve my child and me on as many fronts as possible. I feel torn in too many directions - hell, I could go out West and make a go of it in AZ or OR. I even had an offer of asylum in VA! What to do what to do... If not for the boy, I'd have been following the Rainbow/Renaissance train long ago. Screw this living in places and putting down roots - I have Gypsy blood, and it likes to roam, stereotypes aside. But the boy, oh, the boy...

The boy is AMAZING! I can't believe how completely awesome he is, even in the wake of all this confusion. He is smart and loyal, and friendly and funny, and cute as a very cute button and wise beyond his years - he is imaginative and playful and brave and persnickety, he drives me crazy and brings me joy, blows my mind and makes me so very proud. He's soft and sweet and gentle, he loves babies and kittens and superheros and ninjas and Jedis, Godzilla and Legos, he loves to draw and cut paper, makes pop-up cards, and brings his mama flowers when she's feeling down - flowers that he makes himself out of cut paper. He loves to dance and sing, tries desperately not to be afraid of monkey bars and riding his bike without the training wheels, saves all his pennies and likes to wear a suit and tie. He tries to be brave, and for the most part, he succeeds - thunderstorms can still be troubling, though he says he's over it now. I couldn't love him any more, but if there's a way, I will find it! He is truly the greatest thing I have managed to bring in to this world, my child of love and light and harmonious vibrations, and he has taught me volumes on who I don't want to be (read: my own parents), and shows me every day how to ask forgiveness and improve. I know, I know, you parents of teens and beyond, I've only just begun this journey, but it goes fast, and I want to stay present in it and glory in it's majesty while I can. Yes, it makes me crazy when he thinks he knows more than me, or chastises me for drinking soda, but it's also very sweet, and I want him to feel confident enough to voice his opinion when it is helpful - like a few weeks ago, when I was having trouble remembering if I was supposed to be traveling North or South on that particular highway, he piped up from his booster seat, "it's South! I read the directions!" My angel..!

We had a great Summer, last, and I can't wait to be free of the routine of school (until camp starts) so we can explore the swimming holes and camping trips this Summer has to offer - we have a trip planned to High Valley with our Lake Circle friends, but Rainbow will be out in Washington this year, and I wish with all my heart our car and finances could carry us out there, but I think they most likely will not (the car is in sad shape after the crash of a few weeks back). I cheesed on my friend's Summer Stock blog-share thing last year, but I hope to remember to find joy in collecting images again this year - be they digital images, or actual photographs. I don't have the luxury of a garden with this apartment, and the few plants I had left suffered greatly in the last move, but hopefully our new digs will afford me the opportunity to stick my hands in some soil again, soon.

Still no boyfriend, and all those presenting themselves for the possibility are sorely lacking. The ex says I'm just too damn fat to expect anything more, but he can kiss my firm, plump ass and like it. Somehow, I manage to convince myself I am still beautiful. Many of my friends are struggling with desperately difficult circumstances, and I continue to be there for them through my own struggles, because that's what keeps us holding on - being there for each other. I have probably alienated some of the people in my life whose lives are smooth sailing for the most part, for the simple reason that they just don't need me. I like to be needed. I like being leaned on, and holding people up - because I know that when I fall, they will be there to catch me. I have never made anyone feel ashamed of anything they've done, or judged them harshly for their choices. I sympathize, empathize and commiserate - I understand. This is all the blessing I have to give to you right now, dear readers, but know that you can call on me whenever for whatever, and I will be there as best I can for you. Even those of you who don't know how to be there for me.

Selah

Dead Flowers

2011-05-19T23:07:00.000-04:00

Once again I've fallen behind, thinking I had something to write about, coming on here, where I haven't been in too long, to find two forgotten drafts just sitting there, looking accusatory. I had another dream I wanted to work out, about the ex going to work for year on a space station, and the boy, and some miltary overtones, and the BF with the lowdown, and the 7 year old driving the car down the highway while I chatted on the cell phone...weird stuff, to be sure. There was also an update-in-the-making on my face, and the general state of my health, with some wonderings on how much to spill about my legal battle...I deleted both of them. I was in a car accident the day I woke up from that dream, on my way to a festival, with two passengers in the car, one of whom was my child. No one was badly injured, thank goodness, but the driver's side door is smashed in and unusable (including the window), my insurance won't cover the damage, and I've been climbing in and out through the passenger side with my sore left butt cheek, lower back and neck for almost two weeks now. Yaay. I must have thrown those drafts down before I left to go to the festival...

That's not what I came here to get down. I came to the page to talk about love. Or rather, to gripe and whine about my lack of it. In the wake of everything that's been dragging me down (the legal battle/inability to get a lawyer, the eviction/moving process, the car crash/lack of funds to fix the damage), several people I know have announced to the world their choice to marry. Good for them. Really. I'm happy they've found love - in some cases for the second time, after the death of a previous spouse. Mazal tov. I, on the other hand, have not even managed to marry once. The longest relationship I managed was only 4 1/2 years long, 5 if you count the sex we continued to have after we technically broke up, and no longer cohabitated...

I'm alone, and I'm lonely. There are those who say, "you have your son", which is true, but the company of a 7 year old boy is not the company of another adult who has chosen to spend his time with me, building a relationship and a life together, based on love. The kid has no choice - he's stuck with me, for better or worse, until the day he decides to leave my house (for greener pastures, I pray with all my heart). At this point, I believe I've missed any and all opportunity to find any kind of sustainable relationship, and I suppose I'm mourning that loss. I hardly have any friends that care to spend any time with me, and I go for weeks without any sort of adult interaction - let's not even get into the last time I had a night out, or even had more than a few hours away from the boy at all. I miss my life - the one where I could get up and go anywhere at the drop of anything...

So what does that have to do with love? Frankly, I don't know either. I just know that rather than rejoicing for those who have found it, I am angry and bitter at my lack thereof standing out in stark contrast. I love my son more than any goddamned thing, and I even find a way to continue to love his father. I love some of my friends, though they hardly deserve it. And I love my really good tried and true friends, the ones I call my 'ride or die' friends forever and always, no matter what. Which one are you?

I'm really tired, there's too much on my plate, and just when I think I can't take any more, more gets piled on somehow anyway...and I must rise again. Maybe one of these days, I'll learn to just stay down. The Universe has been trying to kill me since the day I was born, and I suppose I must be a cockroach, or I'd be dead, right? Only the good die young? My purpose here has not been fulfilled? Whatever is up, I have a small person to get on the school bus tomorrow, and a heapload of shit to deal with before it brings him back home. Home. A place I've never been, but I keep trying to figure out what it might look like, and build a reasonably good facsimile of it wherever our stuff happens to be. I wonder where our stuff will land next?

Interesting how when I started this blog, my subject matter was 'the guy, the BF, the kid and the garden', with a bit about work thrown in as well. Now it's 'the lawsuit, the housing, the car, and my lack of regular orgasm'. Fascinating. I'll have to look into that, as soon as I can get past the nightmares of being chased through the Monsey house by my 'mother' who is attempting to murder me, while I make every effort to protect my son and my youngest niece from her rampaging...I tell you, I'm right on the edge. Dangerously.

supermoon

2011-03-25T11:41:00.001-04:00

Saturday was a great day, really fun. The boy and I went to the park, rode his bike over to check out the skate park, played at Small World which is apparently only one of the complexes playgrounds, rode around some more, came home for a nice warm late lunch, and decided to drive the 4 hours to Vermont to see his dad's new band play at P-Pie in Montpelier. Sure, why not? I'm always up for a night out dancing to great live music, and the kid could take a nap on the drive and stay up late with the party people, so off we went, me with extra layers, the small one with his ninja gear and stuffies. Yay! The drive was as fine as could be - the only thing missing was my BF, my good time friend, in the passenger seat, smiling out into the distant night, singing along with me and the radio, feeling fine.

As the boy was lulled by the asphalt rhythms, and I was left to myself, I thought how awful a parent I must be for driving to Vermont to take my son to see loud rock band in a bar late at night. What was I doing? I was taking my kid to a gig at a bar in a city 4 hours away late at night because his dad was playing guitar for a rock band and our friends were meeting us there and would probably be drunk and we would sleep on a couch or something and head home in the morning. Yup. I'm insane. And I mourned my son, and pondered mythology, feeling across the ages to hold Mary's hand as she watched them crucify Jesus, thinking about the mythology I had begun, and wondered where I would let it take me, where it would lead. How I would be led. I saw then a partner, a shining light, felt his love beaming out at me from that empty shotgun seat, and I understood again how everything was just going to be okay, and I smiled my joy singing out into the fly by night...calling to Dionysus' panther that I wouldn't mind a lift.

And as I was Ariadne, riding that panther, making the miles disappear under the wheels of my modern godly chariot, I watched a giant yellow moon rise enormous over the horizon; held spellbound by the sight of Her, brought to my metaphorical knees by the Beauty, I swayed in my seat in my true happiness, savoring the delight of the Moment, blessed as it was, and sweet. Joyousness must have woke my angel, because as he stirred, and looked to catch my eye in the rear view, That Moon broke free of the trees and floated up into the sky like a luminous Eye, and looked down upon Everything, and I held out my hand to her, reached to bask in her smooth amber glow, and I saw the eyes of my son read Her light along it's reflection in the silver circles on his mother's arm, and we were holy again.

I got a bit worried that they might not play long, and that we might miss them, that we drove all this way for nothing, and made my attempts at teleportation, but got frustrated, missed a turn somewhere and ended up a half an hour down the road from where I wanted to be, and when. Tragic. I pounded that last 30 minutes hard, had all the gears firing, was vibrating with it as we pulled up in a dusty ball of kinetics coming to rest all at once in a hurry. Bam. Here we are. We rushed breathless to the door, to the big window where we could see in that my friends were not on the stage, to scan the crowd and catch the eye of our longtime friends, who smiled and came out to give happy hellos on the sidewalk, and bring us news of our luck - we hadn't missed a thing, right on time in fact, even a bit early. Look at all the people we know in here, and while he's the youngest, mine is not the only kid in the place, there are several, whom we all know, and all belong to the band. One of two who belong to my friend is even old enough to drink at the bar with us now, its own kind of joyous heartbreak, that bittersweet aching that is enlightened life.

They played super, like the moon. Bad Dog. Round and full and growled and fur, naked and smoky and Joe. Down with it, dirty, like inside your mind. Shake it out, dance with it, I turned it all the way up and got it on. The boy held on and got up in the madness, my brave little soldier, seeing what he can see. I let it muck me about and turned with it, grasping on and shooting it out around me, joining them in, working it through, being part of it. It was somehow sublime. The music the guitar and the drum make have always caught me, and I really dug the singer, need to hear more of the bass to know it, but wow. Groove-diggity, fantastic. Full on under the supermoon...yeah! Wanting more.

Oh, so tired after many long hours, back to the house for the sleep on the mat on the floor, all still abuzzing at 4:30 in the good times, attempting to bring it down and be with it, ground and rest. The morning will hold its own challenges, and sleep sleep sleep...

and as for you

2011-03-25T09:45:00.000-04:00

Right. My face. It just got so bad. I took pictures, but they're too horrible, and I decided I can't post them, so you'll have to believe me. With my face all blown up like a baked potato, and stinging so bad there was no relief from the burn, I decided to head to the ER and just see what a professional person of the medical arts might say. They said a bunch of stuff, shot me up with an IV of lord-knows-what and saline, and sent me on my way with a couple of prescriptions. Boy am I glad I embarked upon this quest for health and wellness!

Thankfully, the prednisone took the swelling down pretty well, but my skin still appeared red and hella-chapped. Yes - so bad I said hella. I decided to head to VT on a whim last Saturday
night, too, and thinking it would be an in & out job, brought naught more than the clothes on my back...but I got stuck. The blanket I slept under irritated my skin badly, and I woke up with fresh bruises from scratching. Then I got a flat tire, and in my attempt to change it, I dropped the car off the jack. When I finally managed to get it back up off the pavement and put the donut on, I spent the rest of the morning driving around looking for an open tire place to no avail, so I took the boy to P-Pie and resolved to stay an extra day. Alas. It would have been perfectly alright to spend another day visiting in VT, eat another Coffee Corner breakfast, say hey to folks we met along the way, but I didn't bring the little blue bills that apparantly kept my 'sunburn' in check (our waitress did in fact ask if I had a sunburn), and the burning Itch was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. After another mostly sleepless night, we struck out first thing Monday morning, got a new tire, and headed South - into the flurries, which were just flurries as we headed out of Montpelier. By the time we were done winding our way along 107 towards Killington, the pavement was white, and I was crawling along at a white-knuckle 20 mph, praying the semi that was stopped at the crest of the hill would move before I had to hit my brakes and lose any momentum I could have counted on to get myself over that hump - with another semi coming in fast in my rear view. I didn't make it. The semi behind me kissed my back bumper and came to a stop, while I fishtailed my way up the last few hundred yards of snowy slalom to pull in at the gas station and break down in tears, while gulping in huge breaths of air, my first since the long moments when I saw that truck coming up behind me.

We got some snacks, took a potty break, and sat in the car until the snow appeared to taper off a bit, and I'd seen a few plow trucks go by before I attempted to slide down the other side of the mountain to our certain doom. I started off slow, mindful of my traction and the cars I passed on the shoulder with their hazards on. I managed not to have a heart attack or hurtle us into oblivion over the edge of a cliff, and I found that as I pulled into Rutland and turned onto 7, that we were going to live, and even get back to Woodstock this very afternoon, that I could count on a shower in T minus 2 1/2 hours. Once we hit the Thruway, it was smooth sailing, and I was under the boiling hot water by 5pm, dosed on a blue pill, and breathing my relief into the steam. Now, 4 days of liberal slathering of moisterizer later, I feel that I've really had just about enough of this facial catastrophy I've been dealing with, fully acknowledging that I did it to myself, but who knew and all that, and it's moot at this point. It's looking much improved right now, even though it was threatening to come back in force, which makes me think I'm on the 'better' side of the whole experience, yay team (blue pills and moisterizer).

holy cow...

2011-03-25T02:05:00.001-04:00

Wow, I had a whole post typed in recapping the last few things I've been meaning to recap, when I stepped away from the computer to live my life for a minute, and the power went out...you would have thought it would still be here, as it was saved and all. Guess not.

So. Dreams. And dream interpretation. For the dream I called 'the first one' in this post: in a space where I feel comfortably trapped, I have the freedom to explore the symbolic boundary between personal self and public self while merging various aspects of my personality, and letting things happen at their own pace - anticipatory, perhaps uneasy. I'm looking to recapture the excitement, freedom and vitality of youth in my current need for intimacy and affection, but I'm keeping a secret, not dealing with an issue, getting ready to finally acknowledge qualities within myself. I feel emotionally cold and frigid, excluded, left out, scarred by the lack of love and absence of warmth in my own family circle, so I need to work on mindfully exploring aspects of my self that have yet to be acknowledged or utilized.

The second one, from the same post: an aspect of my personality that I have rejected, but am ready to incorporate and acknowledge, and the relationships I have with those around me are important in learning about myself. a positive regression into a past where I had no responsibilities, things were simpler, carefree. escaping the pressures and stresses of adulthood, acting in a childish manner - because 'acting like an adult' is a part of myself that is repressed and hidden. so the archetypal dream helper offers me insight and advice in searching for some direction in my life which is lacking motivation. a transformative self exploration is the beginning of the path that I am taking, going through a transitional phase and journeying into the unknown to experience spiritual enlightenment, emotional growth, physical prowess, new opportunities and mental passages. social and cultural changes, expanding knowledge and awareness - now is a good time to experiment and try new things. In considering personal experiences and memories, they may be a reflection of my current surroundings. achieving my goals through perseverance and hard work. a period of stress struggle determination ambition. instability - lost my grip on a situation, a relationship. lost control of perception, vitality, my outlook on life, my consciousness and point of view. intuition and awareness in reflecting on a decision. going back out into the larger world and experiencing life again. a new surge of energy, growth, ambition and renewed confidence. rebuilding by working on bettering my mind and body. approaching my goals with careful forethought and preparation, yet lowering my standards, doing less than my best. willpower, hidden aspects of my activities, feeling hollow and empty. an awakening to get out and expose myself to new interests and activities. feeling stuck - dug into a hole and can't get out to enjoy something familiar. spending more time cultivating and developing some emerging ability I thought was left in the past that is coming back to me, bringing me back to a particular time period, as a situation in my waking life may be parallel to a situation from my past and my dream is providing a means of resolving how I've lost my direction and lost sight of my goals. I feel worried and insecure about the path I am taking and I am trying to reach out for support - looking for someone to lean on while still adjusting to a new situation in which the rules and conditions are ever changing. coming into contact with some aspect of my psyche or unconscious and recognizing a part of myself that was previously repressed or undeveloped. change - identifying new facets of a relationship, taking it to a new level / in a new direction. feeling helpless, dependant on others. take charge of the situation.

Well, there's just about nothing there that doesn't pertain to the situations going on in and around my life these days, so I actually found that exercise to be very centering, and even in a way reassuring. It actually took some research and a bit of thought, which is why it took so much time to get to, but I'm glad I did.

♥

dramatic and sensational title indicating mind-blowing content

2011-03-07T19:42:00.000-05:00

my FACE...it BURNS!!! GAaahhh....WHY must I DO these things to myself? Whatever. I will survive this trauma, too. Here's the scoop:

I went to the local apothecary to find some lovely salve for my patch of hideous and painful psoriasis that has lived on my ankle for untold centuries. They said, "Why slather something ON it, when you can correct what's causing it?" I said, "OKAY!" So my new friend Josh, let's call him Josh to protect his innocence, immediately put me on boatloads of vitamin D, fish oil and probiotics. Yaay. I felt like I had been proactive about my health, yet realized later in the evening (probably about 20 minutes after I took the first D, when the Itch began, 7 days ago) that I was still out of salve. Damn. A day or so later, I headed to the Co-op where my friend who gave me the salve told me she bought it. While finding the salve, a lovely Co-op staff member talked to me about doing a mercury cleanse, and I jumped right on board (she also sold me some stinging nettle, for the Itch). The Itch started on my left wrist, has done a tour of my entire body, and seems to have come to rest in a burning patch of red welts on my face and neck. My eyelids and ears are swollen. I have been treating it with boiling hot showers, and periodic cold washes throughout the days. It continues to burn. Fucking Ow. I haven't tried the stinging nettles (for the itch) yet, because the nice lady said it tastes bad, and I should mix it with juice. I happen to be out of juice at the moment. Lame, I know. I shall endure the burning swell - and/or get some juice tomorrow...

On a lighter note, the scary patch of oozing red psoriasis on my ankle looks better than it has in awhile, or at least it does today. I'm hoping the vitamins are working their way into my system as the heavy metals are working their way out, and that my face will clear up like my ankle in a day or two (hopefully not seven). Fingers crossed. In the meantime, it's time to go steam myself again, try for some relief by sweating the toxins out by force. I've been pounding gallons of water, throwing down fiber and roughage, meditating on meanings. Wondering at the totality of my need to release - to flush myself so completely that I can feel remade, 42 years new. Wondering at how I could have gotten so far knowing so little, and how much I need to learn to be able to continue on.

My foot is too swollen to fit comfortably in a shoe, my face is on fire, and new eruptions are breaking the surface of my skin as I begin to scratch, but somehow, it's all part of what's supposed to be happening right when it's supposed to happen. So, I'll be backing up to the nice dreams I was having a few weeks ago (a few weeks already?) and talking about the interesting things I thought about while searching for meanings in my subconscious. Stay tuned for updates on the condition of my ~~sandpaper~~ face/skin ~ ♥

a few days ago

2011-03-07T17:23:00.004-05:00

it's about how I itch how badly i itch how I take boiling hot showers to soothe the skin that erupts and slather it with salve and cut my nails all the way down so I don't tear my flesh off how there are red streaks covering me from head to toe, starting to creep up my chin now, like it did that other time, and I had it on my feet then, too, so painful. and on my face, and I was writing down what I was eating, and then it all just equalized and things had started to get better, were moving forward, but then I moved here, and fell flat again. not completely flat, I was at Soons for 2 years, that was a good stint, and here, I'll be successful, I feel it in my bones, though it's gonna be like giving birth again, but it's a different kind of pain. all that digging into the Old Words the ones from long ago, it fucked me all up, made me go back to places and process things and to see that every now and again I was really out of my head, and live it again, and get all twisted sideways with the things it brought out of my past, and the things I had to live with and get past. and there was so much pain. so much actual physical pain that it crippled me, and I felt it bind me up, wrap itself around and through the very fibers of muscle into the tissue, and poison me from the inside. and my issues tend to erupt on my skin my lovely skin smooth and clear, though I haven't taken proper care, and I should love my skin for the ways it loves me - my thick skin. like elephant hide and quick to heal soft and smooth firm longs for the sting of a slap or some candle wax- the boiling showers - don't even get me started on my hair and eyes...and I scratch and i scratch and i feel sometimes like a cutter because i'm damaging myself but it goes right along with the screaming in my ears, and the stress levels I didn't get really sick this winter (acknowledging the fact that I'm superstitious) which feels really good, and taking a more active stance towards my health, by getting on D, fish oil and probiotics. then i went with the herbal cleanse, and by god if I'm not crawling with toxins my body is mass-flushing through my pores and it itches like mother fuck but I know it's going to suck for a limited period of time and my ear is swollen where my cell phone lives, which is interesting, and as i type this the hives are working up my right cheek and onto my eye...so rather than scratch and further tear away at it i'll go take a boiling hot shower and abuse myself that way, and probably itch in the shower for good measure and i wish i had a bruise to be proud of from a good spanking rather than bruises from scratching I just need to sweat this shit out with lots of water -boiling shower - half my body weight in ounces each day, and sweat, and all will be well. raise that D and get my poor sore ankle off the critical list right now I'm so strung out i can't even wear shoes it's hurts so bad and I don't want to put on clothes because my skin is crawling i got stinging nettles because it's a histamine or some such, I'm no herbalist, a not-itch-thing but I haven't taken it yet because i need to go slowly with all of this, like all that shit i dredged up out of the past was to find out how deep i was hurt so i knew how far i had to go and it turned out to be all the way. its a dangerous road but i think im making it and I need to keep in mind that it may get even still worse a bit before it gets better because the cleanse is 30 days, & the D gets looked at again in 12 weeks. bad D. way down D, like 9, on a scale of what , I think in the hundreds? skin eruptions stress lifestyle change dumping all the shit that's been dumped on me, and not taking on any more end of story time to run screaming for the hills but i should be good after that on my way a one month mark and a three month mark tsa random street sweep searches gas prices middle east blowing up we sit on our asses and are intimidated out of traveling of leaving our homes ready for the jack boot regime inviting them in to crush our children's spines ohm madness sitting on a lotus feeling groovy being at peace with the all one growing organic veggies saved from heirloom varieties clean food and water and air and earth clean living clean soul clear mind clear heart invite it in sweat it out drink water boiling shower ohm to the temple respect i apologize, you deserve better I deserve better the Ariadne and Dionysus write that story the porn get up get on up like a sex machine don't even get me started on sex i'm so desperate, drink water boiling shower...

Warning: Adult Content

2011-02-10T17:22:00.003-05:00

So, I was visiting with the neighbors the other day, and the male of the pair decided to play his new favorite song for me to introduce me to the kind of music he listens to - yeah, it's rap. Now, I have nothing against any form of music, even if I don't like it, but I've heard some really good, inspirational, deep and moving social commentary in the form of rap, and by comparison, what the neighbor played was nothing of the sort. HowEVER - having said that, I must admit that the VIDEO that went with the song was very...arousing, and I haven't been able to concentrate on anything for days. So much so, that I had to write down the fantasy my mind constructed around it just to get it out of my head! It sort of worked...I've been able to think and do things that don't involve sex for a few minutes, now, but it's also that time of year that my sex drive tends to rev itself right up, and send me spiraling into juicy daydreams of free love and frequent couplings. I'm not talking about love, here, kids, I'm talking about sex. If you're easily offended, or a prude, stop reading now - I don't know how messy this is going to get, and you may even need to get yourself a shwag towel if you choose to continue, but I'm not making any promises.

Sex is sex. Sex is not love. I am in no way confusing one for the other, and neither should you. I have love in my life - my child, my friends, they love me. Sometimes I even think my family loves me, but there's no confirming that, so I leave it out. Right now, I'm not having any sex. In fact, I haven't had sex since New Year's Eve 2010. That's a year and two months, which is a long stretch for an old hellcat like myself. The last time I went this long without sex, I had just had a baby, and was too busy to think about anything besides diapers, breastfeeding, laundry and sleep. I had sex a few times during my pregnancy, and by the time my boy was a year old, I had found myself a single dad to play with - score! Unfortunately, the guy decided he would rather be an asshole than in a relationship - but he was a fantastic lover (for me) and I still think fondly of the time we spent together in the sheets. My physical attraction to him was/is so powerful, that I often use his likeness as the subject of my fantasies, even though there's no way in holy hell I'd ever be with a guy like him again - this attraction, as I said and at this point, is purely physical. He wasn't relationship material, and I not only slammed that door, I bolted and chained it as well. So what set me off on a jean-creaming porn frenzy? The hot dude in the bad rap video closely resembles my erstwhile lover, and depicts the sort of 'fuck me 'til it hurts' approach we unmade our beds with after our respective little angels had played, eaten, bathed, and gone to sleep. Ooh, those nights...

...anyway, in the interest of doing something with my days other than watching crappy rap videos and movies featuring skinheads having sex, I wrote down and added this new fantasy to the list of short stories I keep in the folder marked 'Porn', and attempted to get on with my life. Here I am attempting - how am I doing? Yeah, not so well. I'm still visualizing the guy in the video, my old lover, another well known actor, and a lesser known porn-star too many times per day, making me all too aware of the impending rutting season. Mama needs some blue eyes and a buzz-cut, STAT!!! Give him a few tattoos and put him in some leather, while we're at it! Oh, I need to calm down again, I almost typed the word 'Harley'...oops. Needless to say, I looked up my horoscope to keep myself off kink.com (sorry, not gonna put in a hyperlink, copy and paste if you can't bring yourself to type it) - what? What do you do? Think about baseball? How very 1950 of you... Here's what it said:

{When some Westerners hear the term "tantra," they think it's a New Age codeword for lavish sex. But in its original form, tantra is a philosophy that advocates spiritual union with all of creation, not just erotic union with an attractive partner. Tantric practitioners might engage in metaphorical "love-making" with lizards, birch trees, clouds, toasters, rivers, and quirky friends, among other wonders. I recommend that you experiment with this perspective, Aquarius. I bet you'll find that cultivating lusty compassion for the entire world will enhance your personal intimacy with the people you care about. Happy Valentine Daze!

SACRED ADVERTISEMENT
What advice would be useful for your love life? Not this observation by The Simpsons' creator Matt Groening: "Love is a snowmobile racing across the tundra and then suddenly it flips over, pinning you underneath. At night, the ice weasels come." Do not, under any circumstances, make those your words to live by. Instead, consider the following counsel from Norman Mailer: "Love asks us that we be a little braver than is comfortable, a little more generous, a little more flexible. It means living on the edge more than we care to."}

...umm...Come On, Lusty Compassion! Better than cultivating ice weasels.

Oh, and I highly recommend Rob Brezsny's amazing horoscopes, they're the only ones I read!

Dreams

2011-02-03T11:32:00.003-05:00

Recently, I've been having these strange dreams involving my ex, a high school friend, and labyrinthine wanderings...

The first one seemed to be at my friend's house, where I've never been, so it must have been a construct of what I thought a Home should be - which seemed a warm and happy space with friends gathered and enjoying each other's company. A group of people were hanging out waiting to go somewhere or do something (it's been more than a week since this one, and I didn't write it down). The ex and I were flirting, and I felt that flippy butterfly feeling in my stomach as we found corners to hide behind and kiss where the rest of the folks couldn't see us. It was nice to see him smiling, and making eyes at me (even if it was a dream). It must have been a snowstorm, and he and his crew were all geared up and about to go out and do what they do, and maybe we were all hunkering down to wait the storm out, and were feeding them and wishing them well, as we wouldn't be seeing them for a few days. I'm not sure why this particular girlfriend was the one who's house we were at...she and ex have never inhabited the same physical space, and have no connection to each other.

Last night, I dreamt that the same girlfriend and I (and some other chick I didn't know) were wandering through the mostly abandoned hallways of some old university, climbing out windows and sliding down construction tarps to crawl through holes between walls to get to a space where there was a party going on. I think my ex had been hanging out with us, but went on to the party while we met up with my cousin who showed up with the dog she had when I was I kid, and I couldn't believe she was still alive (she would have been almost 40!), but I hugged and loved her nonetheless (the dog, not the cousin). We didn't quite know where the party was, so this other chick showed us how to get there - along this bizarrely circuitous route. She was running ahead, and we were trying to keep up, but we lost her, at which point it turned out my friend knew the way and we got there regardless, just along what we thought was a unnecessarily long detour. When we found the party, ex was there, hanging out by himself looking surly, and I went to him and reminded him of how he was like this character in a movie he turned me on to, except for the part where the dude in the movie got shot. He seemd edgy or uneasy, but I reminded him of how much he had taught me, and how much there still was to learn. He seemed doubtful, but I adored him all the more as he threw an arm over my shoulder in that way that guys have to show they've 'claimed' you, and held me like something he had a responsibility to protect, and was concerned about his ability to do so. Or rather, his ability to continue to want to.

Wonder what's up with this? Why that high school girlfriend? What does she represent to me? She's adorable, perky, was a good student involved in activities, had an active social life, and a good group of tight friends. There was some stuff going on at home with her parents, but nothing out of the ordinary, and while we lost touch for many years, she seems to have a good life going for her now, with a career, a good husband, wonderful kids, and a heart that just seems to get bigger and fills me with respect for her values. Obviously, I don't know what goes on with her behind closed doors (we're not that close), but she's got to be representative (in my dream) of some sort of ideal, right? A motherly influence, maybe? An example to live by?

And what about ex? I adore him - always have - but why am I dreaming of him in a romantic way? Is it him I really want, or just the idea of who I want him to be? And what does that mean, anyway? He can only be who he is, and he's never pretended to be anything but that, so am I romanticising him? Because I'm so lonely? Sex-starved? This kid I knew once said that I 'couldn't keep a man', and while I was highly insulted by his statement, I thought to myself, "is it that I can't, or that I've never really had one worth keeping?" If I wanted to keep one, I would have, right? Maybe it's just that the men I've been with have no intentions of keeping me, either. At this point in my life, I'm not sure it's even possible anymore - I'm so used to being alone, and being in charge of my own things, I'm not rightly sure I could even share. Especially when it comes to my kid...

These dreams have got me thinking, though I'm not sure about what. What I'm missing? What I lack? What I want? Who I want it with? Either way, it's got the ex on my mind, and how good things were when they were good. I miss being in love with someone worth my affection, though I don't miss being hurt by someone I chose to trust. Maybe I'm just thinking about how much better things could have been if we'd been able to work through the bullshit, but were too naive to know how, or that it was even worth the effort. Again, that's on me - I have no idea how he feels, and it's not a subject we discuss. Besides, I believe in there being more than what we had - a true partnership on a multitude of levels, and that's what I seem to be holding out for. A synergetic partnership that would heighten the levels of both our awareness. And my need to be non-monogamous - my dream of having two husbands and a wife - how does that come to be?

Saadi of Shiraz, a Sufi author from the 13th century once wrote: When a man's sleep is better than his waking - It is better that he should die. Why these dreams remind me of this saying, I could guess - but dying now, while my son is just a wee lad would suck beyond all reason. Perhaps, as is the point of mysticism, if looked at figuratively, what I can surmise from this connection in my head is that I should be taking steps to create the waking life that I want for myself rather than living in these nebulous dreams.

Thoughts?

42

2011-01-23T12:23:00.000-05:00

     Great day in the morning...there is a blue, star-shaped blob hovering it's reflection just at the top right corner in the field of my vision. There are several blue twirly-things hanging from the ceiling, and the apartment is so clean! It feels 120% better in here. The Sun has settled into my constellation and is blasting brightly through my freshly washed windows, bouncing off a hillside of snow and back up to the clouds in the ice blue sky... I'm tripping out on the sunshine. Saving up for a rainy day, when I get so low, and I just want to dance in the sun. All in all, it's been a great birthday weekend, and I did what I wanted to do, which was clean my house, have good conversation, some laughs, and lots of yummy food with good friends. It was delightful, and a wonderful way to start out my new year.
     I unpacked the last of the moving boxes, and while I didn't quite finish putting everything away, or scrubbing the bathtub, I would say I'm done with the majority of what I felt I needed to do in order to invite folks over to say, "I'm officially moved in, let's celebrate." There's still the art to hang on the walls, and the aforementioned scrubbing of the bathtub to be done, but just to have rid myself of the countless years worth of grime from my environment - to have vacuumed the accumulation of decades of shoes from the cracks in the floorboards - has lifted a pallor from the space itself, opening the energy and allowing it flow through unhindered, amplifying the effects of the sunshine...  I feel much more at home now, like I can go back to dealing with the orders of the day, get to work on upcoming science fair projects (I'm so excited - our first science fair!), and plan our next birthday party (the boy's).
     I still need to finish up my schoolwork from last semester - I managed to finagle an extension, which I seriously needed given the challenges I chose to face - but this is the service station beyond the end of the line for me with this, so while there's not much left to pull together, the pressure is still measurable. I need a job. That point is the thorn in my side these past few months, and the most significant of my worries at present. A regular paycheck would do wonders for my psychic state, which is begging to be allowed to perform a striptease from the woolen clown suit in which it's been swimming (with a nod to Rob Breszny). Nevertheless - the lightening of my environment by its subsequent cleanliness, paired with the positive vibes from a visit with harmonious spirits engaged in loving acts, lends itself to an end-of-weekend morning, lazing in the rays of the Great Solar Charger, eating leftover party goodness in the Zen-ish calm.

My ears continue to ring, the skin infection on my ankle remains troublesome, and my love-life exists only in my fantasies, but my boy is a blessing, we are both in good health, 42 is a sacred number, and I'm willing to see what there is to learn...

Tinnitus? Seriously?

2010-11-29T21:20:00.006-05:00

My ears have been ringing for a few days, now, and I decided to look it up on the internet - because that's what we do, nowadays, right? As per the norm, a quick search of 'ringing in my ears' led to a plethora of sites ranging from simple information on the name of the 'condition', possible causes and treatments, 'miracle cure' buy-our-product sites, and links to surgeons who perform cochlear implants. Fascinating. Turns out any number of things can cause the annoying ring, including loud noise, ear infection, excess salt or sugar intake, vitamin or mineral deficiency, stress, anxiety, certain medications, tumors, high or low blood pressure, Meniere's Disease, head or neck injury, and on and on and on. It's annoying to have my head ringing, for sure, but not unbearable, so I'm not calling the doc just yet. I have an appointment in February, and I can wait 'til then - I think. We'll see.

Obviously, along with all these possible causes, there were lists of treatments, therapies and/or 'cures' as well. Most of the sites suggested one first pinpoint the cause of their particular ring, as to best determine the course of treatment for it. Simple enough in my case: I'm going with the cocktail of sinus/ear infection, salt/sugar intake, vitamin/mineral deficiency, stress/anxiety. So, I can adjust my diet, try and calm down, and somehow conjure myself a craniosacral massage with essential oils and/or aromatherapy session. Easy! No need to run screaming to the doc at all - I can do this. The truth is, it's just another warning sign along the path that I've been ignoring for years. Dairy is well known to mime flu symptoms, and my now-yearly sinus infections are most likely a reaction to my love of all things milk and cream. Salt? Not so much. Sugar? All you who know me are nodding a resounding "YES" to that one. I do love my soda, and my chocolate - even if it is of the heart-healthy deep, dark kind. And this latest bout of Stress with a capital 'S' has thrown me headlong into the arms of my beloved vices - Sprite, cheese, milk, and that bowl of Hannukah chocolate that's been wantonly displaying itself on my table for weeks...

As one of my friends so blithely pointed out in her blog the other day (I'll have to ask her if I can link it here), we're 'at that age', and the little girl in the back of her head is stamping her feet in protest of having to pay more attention to the ways she treats herself as she ages, or suffer the all-too-often awful consequences. My ears ring in understanding, as I kick the ass of the little girl in my head for recognizing, and subsequently ignoring, the warning signs that have been setting off alarms in my system for years. When is enough enough? I'm pretty sure I've posed this question to myself before, but I ask again, what will finally make me do the things I need to do rather than think about, and then ignore them? What finite piece of the puzzle am I still lacking? Sure, I haven't had a smoke since babydaddy had his heart attack (month and a half, maybe two?), and that's progress, but it's like I'm walking around with the keys to the kingdom and I'm busy throwing dice out back. Rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints? Damn straight! I've got a bad case of 'it's all I've got left'! No sex, no drugs, no rock & roll makes Mama a very bitchy girl, and woe be to thee who gets between me and my bacon cheeseburger!

Perhaps, though, just perhaps - what if I find that refining myself through the fire and entering the kingdom proves to be the very thing I was seeking after all along? Wouldn't it be worth it? How will I know unless I try? I mean, if it isn't, I could always go back to abusing myself to death, right?

Time to catch up a bit, I guess...

2010-11-26T22:07:00.003-05:00

It's the day after Thanksgiving, one of my least favorite holidays, for one reason or another, and I'm trying to remember what track I was on, so I can get back to it. It seems I've been lost under moving boxes, piles of laundry and exhaustion of late, and even though I could probably put my head down on the desk and fall asleep right now, I wanted to get something out that has been kicking around my head for a few days. Remember when my mom threatened to sue me for custody of my child for no good reason recently? Remember how I moved out of the county just to get away from her and the rest of the toxic members of my 'family'? Remember how I said I'd never move back to NY because these people had so traumatized me in my youth? Well, they haven't stopped tormenting me just because I moved away - again. The nasty emails keep coming. The horrible phone messages still end up in my voice mail. The one I got yesterday went like this:

"Hello, my darling and beautiful grandchild, I miss you! I'm so sorry your mommy won't let you come see me on Thanksgiving! I love you!"

Now, I have no problem with The Bitch loving and missing her grandchild, but how can she possibly blame me for not 'letting' him come see her for Thanksgiving when she never invited him in the first place? And seriously, did she think he was going to answer my cell phone, have a quick chat with her about it, hop in the car and drive himself down there for dinner at 3pm? What a sick and twisted thing to do. I made it clear to her, many times, that all she needed to do to begin the healing process was to apologize for threatening to attempt to take him away from me, and she refuses to respond to my very reasonable request. She just keeps on sending nasty emails, leaving hateful messages, and continuing to blame me for keeping my son from her. What a freak. Anyway, the point of all this is that I was talking about this message and the sick mind behind it with a dear friend, who asked why I had even listened to the message in the first place. Her take - just delete it. Don't respond. Step out of her game completely. To that end, she suggested I delete all the emails I save in a folder on my hard drive, and all the ones on my cell phone as well. I have been saving them in the event that I need them for evidence in case The Bitch ever really does decide to come after me for custody - to prove she's nowhere near sane enough to care for a child, and that she has been harassing me without provocation for several months now. It's not even a question. No matter how fucked up I may be, I take good care of my kid. My friend told me it would reflect poorly on me for having saved them, would make me look vindictive, and in the event it ever actually came to a court case, The Bitch would quickly bury her damn self with her nonsense, without the cruel text messages for proof. Ultimately, I agree with my friend, and think it would be cleansing and freeing to do so - but just before I hit that delete button for good, I thought I would ask anyone who may be reading this blog to weigh in with their opinions. So, my friends - what do you think? Keep said messages for evidence just in case? Or dump them and be done with it? Delete any future messages before reading/listening as well?

I am thankful for many things, but besides my kid, I am most thankful for my dear, sweet friends whose guidance and insight I trust to help lead me to the correct decision. Thanks for reading, I love you - and thanks in advance for your advice.

Peace ~

p.s. - I just realized I never really filled my 'blog audience' in on the particulars of my decision to move. Due to exhaustion, and my desire to put it behind me, here's the short version: my mother went ballistic on me one day a few months ago because she didn't like the way I agreed to take my grandfather to his doctor's appointment. Words were exchanged, mostly extremely ugly and untrue words coming from her, to which I responded as cooly as I was able, until she threatened to sue me for custody of my son on the grounds of 'mistreatment and endangerment'. I asked her to please refrain from contacting me again, changed my phone number, and moved to a new apartment. She got the new number somehow, and continues to harass me via email and the occasional voice or text message. Both my brother and my grandfather have sent similarly ugly and accusatory messages - my grandfather I responded to (unkindly), and my brother I have not responded to at all. I have not heard from either one of them since. Sometimes I respond to my mother, mostly I don't. I'm just trying to move on with my life, with my son, in a supportive environment, with love and intention. That's all. Thanks.

Dona Nobis Pacem

2010-11-04T15:45:00.001-04:00

thanks again to Robin, at Around The Island, for showing me yet another worthwhile way to blog.

Today is the day...

2010-11-01T11:44:00.000-04:00

...I tell the landlord I'm only mailing him most of the rent. Today is the day I tell my advisor where I am with my project. Today is the day is go to the mall with my resume, paint on the smile and get a crappy job. Today is the day I finish my degree in one last jet-burn of 'can do'. Today is the day. Today is the day. Today is the day after Halloween, or Samhain, as I liked to call it, back when I was making a point - a bright, cold, clear morning, I sent the boy off to school with a hat and gloves, still stinky and unwashed from last Winter, but wearing them, nonetheless. I'll add it to the list...

Today is another day in a series when I seem to have repeatedly written a theme, based on the timeframe of 'today'. There's a certain mood, obviously, a particular feeling in a specific moment. The day after. Today. What comes now, Titus Bird, what then? What would happen if everyone came to me with that question? What if a million people wanted to know what my opinion was? I would probably run and hide, that's what. I don't really want to blow the lid off of anything, I mostly just want to be left alone. Today I refuse to be overwhelmed by the enormity of it all, because today is the day...

"How I Spent My Summer Vacation"

2010-09-25T22:36:00.002-04:00

It was such a busy Summer, I hardly posted here at all! We went camping twice (PA and upstate NY), spent 10 days in Vermont, many days at the waterpark, and a couple at the Renaissance Festival. Here are some of the highlights:

love this one

straight out of the Blackberry

messed with

renfair

rraahhh!

new favorite puppet

oh, and the little darling wrote me a book! get a copy - only $7! Seriously!

As you can see, all I ever point my lens at these days is my beautiful boy! While he's quite photogenic, it does make me realize I need to reclaim my personal creativity a bit, and remember to take time to just shoot. We are about to move (again) and the boy will be switching to a new school one month into the school year, which is a shame, but it's the right thing to do because of personal issues that I will most likely address in a forthcoming post... Keeping my fingers crossed for things to be settling down in a few more weeks, and that I will be able to get back into the routine of posting with more regularity. Hope you all had as much fun as we did, and that you're looking forward to Autumn as much as I am! Oh, and buy a copy of my kid's book - it's really fun!

(^_^)

residency

2010-08-29T17:31:00.001-04:00

Wow. Well. Home again. I was only gone 10 days, but it seems like a different world. Sitting in discussion all day with like-minded individuals, reaching to form connections between the work we do, the ways in which we understand it, and how it relates to the world at large outside of our picturesque New England bubble. Fantastic..! Now I'm here, in my apartment, wishing I was living there, holding on to the excitement and inspiration of a Goddard residency, thinking about how I can relate all that great information to my daily life, experience and practice. I can already feel the ennui sinking in - we got home last night at midnight, I went to bed at 2 - as I sit in front of the computer doing nothing productive, and the boy plays alone in the other room, neither of us having had a proper anything to eat, or stuck our heads out the door to sniff at the sunshine yet today. To be fair, we're pretty road-tired, and there's nothing wrong with taking a day to sit around in your underwear doing nothing but what you're moved to from one minute to the next, but I don't want to lose the momentum of being intensely engaged with my work all day, every day. I had such a desire to get home so I could start hammering out some pages, saw the whole project laid out in my mind all tied up with a little bow and more work still to come - so I feel a need to overcome the comfort of 'things', and the enticement of easy distraction my apartment offers before I can even begin to fall into the abyss. Just turn my back on it, and walk away. Step one: take it out of the bedroom...

It was also wonderful just to be in Vermont and go visiting, hang out with folks, eat at P-Pie (the Plainfield location, which is much more hippie hideaway than the website makes it out to be) and Coffee Corner, look at For Rent signs, check out the creative projects my friends are working on, get in the water at Paradise. I saw that dude I slammed in an earlier post walking around town, and he crossed the street to avoid saying hello to me, which is weird, because he still attempts to flirt with me via IM on occasion, but I'm glad he did because I didn't feel like talking to him, either! The boy had a great time shopping at Woodbury Mountain Toys, getting a dragon painted on his arm at the Montpelier farmer's market, and four-wheelin' up on the mountain with his dad! We also stopped in to one of the glassblowing studios I used to work at, and watched the apprentice blow a few pieces. Big fun all around! Vermont rocks, and I sure would love to find my way back there soon enough. We'll see what life has in store, just flow with the program, let the river run. There's a whole pile of people I didn't get to see, which leads me to believe I may have a more active social life if I moved back there, but the pull of family is kind of strong - though ideally elastic and malleable, so one can attempt to stretch it, as I have, with varying results. We'll see, we'll see...no need to figure it all out today, there's a lot of work that needs to be done between now and then. Step two: break the work down into sections and set a schedule.

Ugh. I want to crawl right back in bed and go to sleep. I need to get up and carpe diem (at 6pm)...and I'm hungry. Step three: enjoy my success!

...it's all about family

2010-08-12T02:07:00.001-04:00

So, I wanted to write about my experience at High Valley, where I went camping with a bunch of old friends a few weeks ago. They said we had all camped there before, but I didn't remember. After we'd been there a few hours, once it got dark, I started having flashes, bits and pieces of time out of my life that had disappeared, returning in manageable, non-lethal doses. I asked, "was someone married here, under this tree?" Yes, someone was...

15 or so years ago, I took my chucks off when I made camp, and set them next to the tent where they remained for...who knows, really? It was three days of what must have been big fun because as I said, I have no memory of it, except for a blurry mental snapshot of a bride under a tree, my chucks, and parts of a slam-damning awesome ritual! I remember taking my tent down that last morning, or early afternoon, packing up the car and heading off for a new adventure. I'm sure my friends wished me well, because, well, they're still my friends, and all our kids just played together for the first time at High Valley this Summer. I got in my car and drove to Vermont, where I lived for 12 years. About halfway there, I realized that my chucks where exactly where I had put them that first day of the camp out - on the grass, next to the corner of the tent by the door. I thought about them laying out there in the field, next to the fading square of the tent's dented grass footprint, and I acknowledged their loss.

Standing there recently, seeing that tree again in the moonlight, remembering the bride under it, I said, "this is where I lost my chucks all those years ago, where we had the awesome ritual! Yes, I have been here before, now I remember! This is where I left for Vermont from...wow. Wow!...wow...and here I am again. All these years later, with all of you, and our kids...wow." Mind blowing.

Tonight, I was sitting in the yard, looking for meteors - hey, I saw one last night! - and I thought about my idea of a functional family unit. In a roomy living space for lots of people that also affords privacy on a proportionately sized piece of land, we would produce minimal amounts of trash by recycling or reusing everything including water (living machines), grow some food to eat and flowers to enjoy, build some useful stuff, be multi-generational, warm and supportive of each other. We could help empower our community by helping them learn how to nurture their talents for coping and surviving through healing and communication, or whatever suits them best. I know, it's a utopian dream, but it's not too much to hope for, to live intentionally, like a tribe, each relying on the other.

Because here I am, back in NY, back at High Valley, 15 years later, kids and all, at the place where I began an important journey, with the same folks who sent me off with their blessings. What have I brought back for them? A desire to preserve their culture, to make books and stories. To tell them, to inform them, to entertain, question and inspire them. I who gave up or lost everything so I could see what was needed. Or, I, who took all I could and gave nothing back, never struggled a day in my life, who had more on my worst day than some people have on their best. Me. What is it that I've brought back? Part of it is the wisdom of Bucky Fuller saying there is enough on this planet for ALL of us, for each and every one of us to live our fullest lives, but we have to work for it. If we do everything we can to ensure the survival of our environment (or organism), than it will ensure ours as well. I don't want to lose the old arts, we'll need them again. This is my gift to you ~

Summer Stock Sky

2010-07-26T16:21:00.000-04:00

What a lovely thing to look up and see...

Summer Stock - Rainbow 2010

2010-07-18T11:11:00.001-04:00

For years, my 'best' friend and I would take a 4th of July road trip to the National Rainbow Gathering in whatever national forest it was taking place. The Rainbow Gathering is a city in the forest created by the tens of thousands of people who attend these things, for the purpose of coming together to celebrate and meditate for our nation. It is an incredibly healing and joyful journey, and we have traveled to many different state forests to attend, even driving most of the way across the country from NY to Wyoming one Summer. This Summer, the National was held in the Allegheny National Forest in Pennsylvania, a mere 5+ hour drive away! It was incredibly exciting for us to embark upon this journey after more than 10 years away (hey, we can't be 20-something hippie freaks forever, can we? Or can we?), and to be bringing my son along for the first time. This was the beginning of our road trip:

The hike in was pretty gnarly, and I had to constantly encourage my 6 year old every step of the way that the 5 mile hike was not going to kill him, while trying not to have a heart attack myself - I hadn't taken into account the aging process, and the extra hundred pounds of fat I'm carrying, so I was pretty damn happy when we made it to the Main Meadow, myself!

Once we had made camp and settled in, it was an absolutely glorious experience to be among the freaks again, to be loved and cared for like family, because that's what Rainbow is - family. People hug each other, and say 'lovin' you!' all day long to complete strangers, and make new friends at every turn. The drumming lasts well into the night, and I haven't slept better on my mattress at home than I did on that forest floor, listening to the celebratory lullaby that I hadn't realized how much I'd missed.

After the Silent Meditation for World Peace on the morning of July 4th, I handed the camera-phone to the kid to see what he would do with it. I think he took the best shot of the vacation:

Well, okay, it's not a great shot, but it's hopeful and joyous, and communicates the buoyant feeling in the meadow after the serious nature of the morning's activity. Me, I preferred hanging out in the shade by the river rather than in the blazing hot sun of the open meadow:

The worst part about Rainbow is having to leave all that concentrated, loving kindness behind, and return to the everyday world, where people aren't nearly so kind, and random strangers don't stop you on the street for hugs, or to chat for no reason. It really makes you think about what's important, and the kind of energy and people you want in your life. There's always a part of me that's happy to come home (mostly because I need a good, long shower, and want to wash my hair!), but mostly, I can't wait for next year!

(not) the final cut

2010-06-18T11:17:00.001-04:00

It seems like a stupid thing, but this song has been bouncing around my head lately, while I've been thinking about how to do this post that's been sitting in my drafts for awhile now. A friend of mine tried to end their life recently. I thought I should take a moment to process that. But the more time goes by, the less sure I am. Pink Floyd reminds me of being fifteen, and hormonal, and emo - sitting in my room cranking the stereo through my earphones, doing shots of vodka and thinking how sorry the world would be if I could only get numb enough to not feel the pain of the blade on my skin. But that was dumb teenage shit, and this was crazy mid-life shit. There's no way I could entertain thoughts of suicide at this point in my life, I'm happy to say, but to learn that someone I spoke to almost everyday was in that much pain and didn't think they could tell me was eye-opening. My friend called to tell me what happened from the 'retreat', or whatever, probably a psych center, where they were 'til recently, when a bed opened up at a rehab. Now, I've been through this with my friends before, in various scenarios, so I was able to take the news in stride - "oh, hi, you almost died? Wow, that kind of sucks to think I may never have spoken to you again, thanks for calling!" Which brought up the issue of, if this person had succeeded, would their family have thought to call me? It's such a selfish act, but I think it's one that people have a right to perform, if they so choose. And selfish - it seems hardly fair to call it that. Who else has the right to decided what to do with one's own life? It's selfish, sure, but we are in this life to serve ourselves in some form or another, aren't we? Can't we decide that we would be best served, or that our community would be best served by offering up our own sacrifice? What about the cry for help thing? That they don't really want to die, they just want help? I dunno. I'm sure it's different for everyone, but in the case of my friend, I honestly think success was not the intent. Maybe they thought it was at the time, and I'm just talking out of turn, but I think people get so far down, they just give up. Or maybe they don't know themselves well enough, or don't have a strong enough connection to the Absolute, or have undealt with pain in their past, or just get addicted to the wrong drug. Get caught in the wrong cycle, and it will bring you down. I look at my own wounds, which are light years away from suicide, but they are the evidence of my inattention to my own inner conflicts, and my choice to continue to make poor choices on my own behalf. Maybe what my friend lacked was a healthier option to say to the community, "Look, I fucked up! I'm down and dirty and undeserving, and feel like the best thing I can do is die - please help me!" Would that have helped? Shouldn't we be allowed to 'just give up' every now and again? Throw our hands up in the air and say, "fuck it! I give up!" and then walk off into the sunset for a few? Or should I be looking at the stresses that get us feeling that way in the first place? I think feeling like we need to 'just give up', is an indication that we may need to start talking to someone about our problems. There have been times in my life when I have decided I needed some support and I got it. I found it very helpful. I may need it again, you never know. What about my lingering doubts, though? What about the cynical, jaded part of my nature that squints my eyes at criminal behavior to see it better? What's the angle, here? It makes my head swim to even go down that rabbit hole... Though I was trying to process my feelings about suicide, not psycho-analyze the wonderfully sick and twisted people I hang around with. I think it's stupid and wrong. I think it hurts people, and if you're in that much pain and can't find a way to manage it, then write us a nice note and go for it, but be neat about it, please. Don't leave a mess. I think ether or morphine are ways to go, just trip out on funky purple clouds of sensual hallucinations (well, that's what I imagine happens on ether or morphine, but I have no idea, really...) or whatever combo of pharmaceutical cocktail will take you there. I think if you attempt suicide and fail, you probably shouldn't be surprised if people get angry with you. I can't help but think of what was going through my own head when I was an angsty teen, getting drunk and playing razors across my wrists, and it was more about punishing other people than myself - "I'll show them, they just don't understand what it's like! When I'm dead and they're lowering me into my grave, they'll know the pain I'm in, but it'll be too late, I'll be gone! Nobody cares, no one understands, I'm all alone in this world of pain, this hell of the soul!". Okay, I'm overdramatizing a bit, but that's what it was like! And I don't even remember what was so awful! I guess it's just the hormones, weeding out the weaker links? There I am again, in my superiority place, so I will fall to my knees and genuflect to the Universe for it's blessings and shed a tear for the beauty and the miracle of it all, and make another attempt to be more authentically a part of Life, and all it has to offer. Either way, I'm a really good listener, if you ever need me...not to mention that two of the people I spoke to the most often are now less than accessible to me, leaving me even less socially supported than I already was. Feelin' the joy. Remember the Joy? I believe I mentioned the joy ~

Summer Stock 2

2010-06-14T09:00:00.000-04:00

Just a quick post for Summer Stock. I have a feeling this is going to be the Summer of pictures of kids playing on the slip & slide... Hey, to be fair, I took 1000 pictures on this particular afternoon, but I'm only going to post two of them (for now). I love the angle of the lighting in these, and there were a few more that were similarly lit, so some of those may pop up during the ensuing weeks as well.

mine

mine and two others

Summer Stock!

2010-06-06T11:34:00.001-04:00

Welcome to our backyard water park, where my son and two of his cousins enjoyed a Friday afternoon of fun together! I bought the sprinkler and the slip & slide last weekend, and saw the pool but didn't get it. This weekend, I saw the pool on sale for $20, and couldn't resist! Looks like a Summer of fun (and I can so see myself sitting in that pool with a frozen Margarita in my hand)!

The new pool

A cool surprise to come home to Friday after school!

Now if only I had some...

...girls!

"Take a picture of me throwing water in the air!"

"Take another one!"

Ye olde slip & slide

"She's had WAY to much sugar & caffeine, we're gonna have snacks!"

"I love veggie booty!"

the 'water-pillar' sprinkler was a bit nuts!

Inspiration in Action! (with thanks to A.P.)

2010-06-01T22:03:00.004-04:00

It's kind of depressing when I have to get my kid to help me with my homework...really, he's great for inspiration when it comes to creative projects. I just lay out the supplies I plan on using, and watch him go to town. He won't be home for another half hour or so, and we have to go to the store because we're out of food, but I've been staring off into space, or looking at portraits for too long, now, waiting for the bolt of lightening, and - nothing. Well, not exactly nothing, but hardly enough. I'm just not in the mood to play. The weather is blech, so I'm kinda blech, and I really want to be in a much quieter place then my apartment, watching gossamer white curtains floating on the breeze blowing in through huge picture windows overlooking a blue sky dotted by white puffs of non-rainy clouds. I'm not much for the beach, but I feel like there should maybe be a beach out those windows as well. Why not? It's my fantasy... The integral part is the quiet, and the calm. My apartment is too close to a busy road with truck traffic, and there's too much tension in the building itself. I really wish I had taken steps to be able to move this Summer, and now I don't know if I can count on being able to stay here for another year. Again, if it were just me, I'd have no worries about this, just pick up and go when and where I see fit - but the boy. I don't want to keep moving him around. And he's got a lot of stuff! I guess I do too, at this point, doing the domestic thing, and the constant relocation isn't as much fun anymore since I need to get a big truck involved, and find people who are actually willing to help me carry heavy stuff. Just the thought of it is exhausting.

All that is beside the point - it's just another thing that's weighing on my mind and distracting me from the task at hand. I have a project to get done. Instead of inventing an entire cosmology (like I even could), I thought I'd just follow the example of what a saint's book actually is - pictures and stories about the lives of saints. I got the idea months ago when is a saw a 'book of parrots' done up like a saint's book, and it was so playful and fun it made me feel happy. So, no, it's not an entirely original idea, but it's my take on a theme.

Maybe I need to be channeling Ralph Steadman...

What sort of deities should I conjure? Perhaps a prayer to the goddess of kitchen scrubbies, a high priestess of elbow grease? Patron Saint of Domestic Order, unclutterer of corners, scourge of the dust bunny, Knight of the Rosy Toilet - Citron leSurfectante. He sounds French. A demigoddess of folly (Giggles), a sprite of the forest whose laughter falls like joy upon the heart. It is said her playful spirit comes to those wistful for freedom and adventure; she is known to bestow gifts on single parents. She was born to the High Priest of Health and Wellness (Rawfoodius, or Veggicus?) and the Goddess of Wisdom (Betty, Madge or Gertrude). Maybe Monsieur leSurfectante won Giggles' heart with his impeccably cozy, shabby chic interiors and noble deeds of stain removal while he was charmed by her eco-minimalist tree habitat. And they gave to the world five children: Spic and Span, The Conjoined Twins of Peace and Harmony; leFrog, The Pope of the Ludicrous; Psychotropic Sam; and Dementia, known for her discontent and self-loathing, requiring the employ of lavish gifts, ego-stroking, and undivided attention to successfully dispel her sour aura.

Okay, now I'm having some fun! Which is good, actually, because it freed me up move forward with the project, and on to the next blog post which will be faintly more somber in tone, due to the nature of the subject. Ooo, heavy, man!

Selah

dark and casual secrets

2010-05-27T15:33:00.002-04:00

     You know how sometimes you want to punch Britney Spears in the face? Imagine yourself David, triumphant over Goliath... Hmm, it went biblical there, and that wasn't what I was going for. I am a proficient typist, no more, no less, though I find the process of using a keyboard foreign and unnatural. It lacks the sensual, the poetry. The force behind a more deliberate keystroke. I feel like using a typewriter, goddammit, to feel my words emblazon themselves across a page, and have them embed within the fibers a certain mystical importance. I want to photocopy and staple these pages, and hand them out on the street. I want to leave them in shops, and at gas station counters. I may throw some out the window of my car.
     It's too goddamn hot, and I'm working on my process, thinking about what the hell went on with my last packet - I waited until the last minute to write the paper, and turned it in a week late mostly ranting about my dad's death, and my feelings around my brother, and Passover, and the whole 'I'm lame and I suck' thing. So I lost a week of doing this week's packet work, and now I'm head first into a very busy weekend playing catch-up from a whole lot of bullshit....
     Remember the walls the enlightened ones are always telling us we can walk through? They are inside our Selves. Well, I do also believe that we can train ourselves to walk through what we think of as 'actual' walls, but that's a different discussion... I have these three silver spheres, that I allow to roll around my house where they may - I call them clockworks. Mostly they stay in my room, hovering around the same general area. Every now and then, one rolls off for a better view, and in days past, they would take long, independent journeys, meeting again after a vacuuming or Spring cleaning. I mention this, obviously, because one has broken off from the pack and come to rest next to my desk, staring it's reflection at me as I type. It tells me I need to live Joy.
     When I became spiritually aware, my hair became more sacred to me, and I have used it ritually. I dyed it blue, and dreaded it when I lived out West.  I cut off and buried one of the dreads with Delia, my long-time traveling buddy cat-familiar, when she died. I buzzed my waist length mane into a crew cut when I moved to Vermont and started at Goddard. I saved my son's first haircut hair - but I think a lot of moms do that. And now, I've been craving the George Clinton 'do. I think it's time. I think the ritual is integral to the actualizing process. I need to bust out the typewriter and get the gay hairdresser on the line, because my Being hears Jonathan Livingston Seagull calling from the other side of this Wall, and he's telling me to turn down the music!
     One of the things distracting me from the book I'm supposed to be reading is the book I have been reading, The Great American Detox Diet by Alex Jamison (she's a vegan chef who's married to Morgan Spurlock of Supersize Me fame). I read it once before, but I lost interest and never finished it, but this last bought with illness in our house sent me back to look deeper. Eating and living healthy is something I strive for everyday, and most days I feel I come out ahead. On others, I fail beyond all reason. But as I'm reading I'm thinking, "but Alex, I eat mostly organic food, local where I can, use Seventh Generation cleaning products and limit my use of plastics in my home (4000 Legos and too many Bionicles and Bakugan notwithstanding). I don't clutter my place up with consumerism or advertising, keep the stress down, use biodegradable bath products and minimal make-up only on fancy occasions, why do I still get so sick too often? Why is my immunity down?"
     I don't get off my ass, out of my house, and out into nature enough anymore. I internalize my anger, my house needs a good cleaning, and I don't get enough exercise, that's why. I mean, I used to live outdoors, for goodness sake! I would bike or walk miles in a day! Over the years, the shamanic practice of my ritualized spirituality has waned into non-existence with the moving into buildings and setting up house. I have mourned it, but I have not wound branches into my hair and marched out into the woods to find it. The idea of a crazy new 'do and the getting out of doors for exercise and ritual feel like the energy between the tines of a tuning fork harmonizing with an instrument singing of joy (I believe I mentioned the joy). Sweat out those toxins while you dance, sing and shout!
     I was so 'home insecure' during a time when I would say most women would choose to be more 'home secure' than usual, I find myself singing the lines to a Robyn Hitchcock song in my head - 'everything you say you won't / is what you will eventually' - and I recognize how much I like to be home. It's right in line with becoming everything I took flight to escape from - family, security, order and predictability, to name a few. I say I do it for the boy, but with my practiced transience of a former life, the truth has been for some time now that I just want to go Home, and with all the spaces I've inhabited, it still manages to elude me. I still just don't feel settled. Perhaps I never will, or will feel so on my deathbed, or when my energy returns to the void. If I wind the Joy into the crazy snake dance of my sacred hair, will I remember how to be a child of the world? Will it carry me out into the wind and rain, away from the outer sanctuary to the one within? Will it bind my intentions like a spell? I remember a fragment of a Native American poet's words - something about how his Grandmother's magic was in her long, unbraided hair...
     The task is to invent a mythology, like a promotional guide for pretend deities. What should I call it?

Selah

(come on baby, gimme your) Meat

2010-04-28T15:33:00.001-04:00

Okay, so here's something...I just sent my brother a facebook message telling him straight up about the way I feel he and his wife disrespect me in front of the kids. Now, before you go, "uh oh...", there's a bit of a lead in -

April 20th, known now to many as national pot smoking day, is my parents' anniversary. This year, it was also Yom Ha'atzma'ut, Israel Independance Day - double bonus. Since I was feeling nostalgic and missing my dad, I posted some pictures and Israeli folk songs on facebook, and I even sent a copy of one of the pictures to my brother, asking him if he knew where or when it was taken. He sent a nice response, telling me what he knew, and added a question about 'where have I been' he hasn't seen me around lately. I took some time and thought about how best to tell him how I feel without placing blame, and to say that I have been thinking about solutions, but I'm just not sure how deep I care to get into it. I thought it was a fair note, and nicely written, and I don't know whether or not to expect a response. So there. I said it. I should put it to rest, at least on my end...

I've been remembering to turn on music while I screw around on the computer, and I've been listening to my Pandora station called 'Robyn Hitchcock Radio', although it plays all kinds of other great stuff, too (Golden Shoulders, Billy Bragg, Smog, Pavement, Radiohead, etc.). Anyway, it was on the other day, and this song I used to listen to back in the early 90's (yeah, way back then) came on, and I lay back on the bed to channel that feeling of being in South Bethlehem, Pennsylvania and my cat, Mr. Spats jumped up next to me and it was just like how Delia (my cat back then) used to, and in my mind I visualized a scarecrow, a Book of Saints, and the work space I'm carving out in what we call the playroom. Then a Syd Barrett song came on, Giggolo Aunt, and I wanted to call the BF I haven't spoken with in weeks out of that burst of playfulness that song reminds me of, of a time...of a time.

It's been really hard to not have him around, and it breaks my heart sometimes, but it really is the right thing for right now. I know without a doubt, I'd be using him as a reason to not be doing my work, and I can not do my work all on my own. I feel terribly isolated, though I still have B who stays in pretty regular touch - and it's actually good to have my mom out of town, I don't like being in the habit of calling her every day, and more than once is just sad! Love ya, mom : ) Facebook's gone crazy with all the weird privacy / application things, it's a time suck, and it generally pisses me off anyway, so I'm trying to stay off there and foster more personal and meaningful relationships in my daily life. Just another baby step in the process...

Which leads me to my point here - how many time do you tell yourself something is 'enough' before it finally is? I feel like I'm waiting for the heart attack, sometimes, you know? Like for a building to fall in, or a flood. I know, I shouldn't even draw the energy to me, but I wonder why I can't just decide to do something and go after it without a piano having to fall on my head? I've been emptying myself out, crying buckets of tears, seeking out sadness to release the gates, to cleanse and purge. If I can't cry for myself, I'll cry for someone else, and then come to the mourning slowly, in an hours long ritual of searching into the void for a clue, for a point of origin. And what do I think will happen in that moment? Awareness? Fulfillment? Contentment? Despair?

'Oh, stop being so dramatic and get over it already!' is what I tell myself, and what I've been trying to get past, for real, and maybe it's working. I feel like I'm uncrumpling after being crushed, and I needed a moment to think about how much that hurt - and then get over it! I still have all the work of writing my way through it, but if I can see past the awareness/fulfillment/contentment/despair and just do what needs doing instead of constantly facing down my own fears, well, then what? Jeez, it's like that Enigma comic, where all the kids committed suicide because Titus Bird wrote those very words! Like Faust #12, and Chapter 13 in A Clockwork Orange...just keep moving forward because there's no way back. So I go look for my own place to call home, while trying not to count all the ways in which I still feel like a teenager.

Year in Review II

2010-04-10T13:06:00.003-04:00

Just a few more things to finish the list out, and then on to new endeavors...

Ah, my boy! Could a mama be prouder? The little bugger is just so cute and funny, and full of life and empathy, and creativity, and wonder. What an excellent little creature I get to play slave to! To be fair, I'm a pretty lazy slave, and he's getting to the point of being able to do most things by himself, short of cook or drive, but we're working on that... He's done well in kindergarten, I'm pleased by his enthusiasm for learning (even though he whines about hating homework already, sheesh), and he seems to be socially active within his class. I love all the little things he builds out of K'Nex or Lego, his awesome drawings, and the stories he's starting to write - we had a great time inking and stamping the other night, and he put together a three page story called six guitars which were flying through the sky. I just count my blessings with him, as I try to squish him into a little ball on my lap where he hardly fits anymore (my baby!), and come to terms with his growing being. He still hardly eats, and I worry over his health, but he seems to be growing and developing, even if he is a bit small. He can have a nasty attitude, and speak with such disrespect it's shocking, but I am strict with him, and I can go a bit overboard myself, so I try to take it in stride and see it as a need for improvement in my own communication skills. On the whole, I think we do pretty well with each other, but I have to say the future does look a bit scary! I wish I had more people around and more opportunities to get him together with kids outside of school, as he's got a tendency to talk all day in class to his buddies, and not get his work done. I think we need a more active social life. Not sure what I'm going to do about the Summer, if I'm going to try to send him to camp or anything, but as of now, I'm not working, so...no hurry? We'll see.

I really do need to find a job, though, I can't pay the bills by going back to college! Unemployment isn't enough, obviously, and my child support is good for keeping a positive balance in my checkbook, which leaves my meager saving that I don't really want to start cutting into. The whole point of my going back to school was to be able to do a bit better for myself financially, even though I have no idea how that's going to manifest itself. It still seems completely unbelievable to me that I could make a living with my photos, or my words, or combinations thereof, but I'm beginning to remember what the possibility of that felt like, and I'm letting it lead my process. It's really great to be going to Goddard, and tying up that loose end - and being at the residency was really fun and inspiring, and enlightening. I just love to get all excited about stuff and make connections like that, and I hope to be able to bring some of that spirit to the community I live in, and discover where that can lead me. Who knows, it may lead me right back to Vermont!

It's also mind-blowing to think that 'nexus' (nexus of ecstasy has been the working title for my scribblings for years) may actually see the light of day sometime this decade. That's such a good feeling! My only fear now is that once I get done with it, and I do think there's a good amount of work in it, that I'll be done! Like there won't be anymore! Ha! Ridiculous... I pulled four possible projects out of scrap photos I had left over from test shots and images that just didn't work, and some that just never got finished. I have quite an archive, actually, and I feel lucky to have been smart enough to document the journey, because sometimes, I forget I was there! I get so bogged down in laundry and dishes, and jesus have I ever once DUSTED in 2 years?  and what am I gonna do for money will the check clear in time? that I forget to just sit
                                                                                                             and light some incense maybe
                                                                                                                                 breathe deeply
                                                                                                                                        and slowly
                                                                                                                                   remember to take
                                                                                                                                 one step at a time
                                                                                                                                   let the mind go
                                                                                                                                     and the spirit flies

behold the possibility.

Gosh, there's still so much to do! It seems like, 'it's been a year, I should be farther along towards my goals', but also, 'look how far I've come in a year!' I wanted to have 'nexus' all typed out in one cohesive form, and I haven't done that, but now it turns out that might not be the way to go with it, and I might be well on my way to discovering the way of it as part of my project for school. So it all works out, still, in the end. Not that it's by any means over, but just a beginning, in the worst, most cliched sense, I'm sorry. Well, in any event, I'm getting back on track with what I meant to do with my life, before I let all the other dumb crap get in the way - and it was all good and fun dumb crap, and I learned alot, and I could have been doing much dumber crap, but it didn't move me ahead any further in the game, and now I have to cram at the last minute for a change. I guess this is the part where I give myself a pep talk about how I did alright this year, but I didn't work up to my level of potential, and I want to see some more improvements in the months ahead, and then we can enjoy an unbeatable season - but I have to remain vigilant, and stick to my training schedule or all is lost before I'm even out of the gate. What the bloody hell am I on about?

I guess all in all, I've had worse years, and I suppose I'll be reliving some of them as I plod through the writings of yesteryear, but maybe it'll help put things in perspective. Perhaps I'll see that I'm not so far off from my goals, that I didn't really get too far off the track, that the uncompromising dedication to writing is, in fact, going to pay off. I see that I'm the same unwavering self I've always been, just not as pretty, and I don't laugh, sing or dance quite as much as I used to - and I want more sleep. Days of it. A week even... Well, it's the weekend now, and it's after noon, so on to the dreaded laundry and grocery shopping chores. Maybe we'll even go to the toy store, because the kid has $40 he's dying to spend on more crap, like he doesn't have enough, and I 'm running out of room to put it all! Really, I want to work in the garden and sip cocktails, but I don't want to spend the money on garden supplies today, and the fridge is close to empty. And the pile of laundry has worn out it's welcome on the living room floor. Ugh. Pry fat ass off of bed, turn off computer, take part in real life activities in real time. Spend time with child. Enjoy life --> GO

Oh yeah - any ideas what I should do with the porn? I had one friend suggest I send it to her, but I don't know what she's planning on doing with it... Is there still a forum in Penthouse? Will they pay for it? Any ideas and suggestions would be welcome!

Year in Review

2010-04-08T12:38:00.001-04:00

Wow, haven't checked in for awhile, but it looks like it's time to get with some 'learning documentation', so on we go...

First off, this blog is now a year old, and I want to go back and check in with what's been happening, and comment on what all's gone down this year. Secondly, I want to talk about the experience of working on my first creative project of the semester. I have a feeling that may end up being more than one post...

I created the blog and put a few words up on March 11, but the second post, the April 18th post, was an actual introductory paragraph. I talked about why I was here; my employer thought I could write a blog for the orchard which turned out to fizzle after just three posts - just one more thing neither one of us felt like dealing with! I liked the idea of blogging, read a few of my friends' blogs, and I thought it was a neat and easy way to do my evening journaling. It sounds kind of like talking to myself, which, I guess, is what journaling actually is, in a sense. But journaling is kind of personal, and while I had it in my head that this was the internet, and that gajillions of people use the internet, it never occured to me that anyone I know would read it! But they did. Surprise! It's o.k., I'm an open book kind of chick, anyway... A year later, I no longer work at the orchard, but I continue to blog. There seem to be at least 5 people who claim interest in what I may write here, and I still can't tell where the boundry is between personal and private.

I mean, if I'm journaling, then I'm talking to myself. Getting down all the little things I want to remember about the day, or just sort of take a mental inventory before I go to bed. It's processing my feelings around what happened in my day and maybe a plan for a better tomorrow. Checking in. But in the back of my mind, I'm keely aware that I'm going to put this out there for other random gajillions to read if they so choose, so I hold back - I don't use names. If you know me, and you know who my kid's dad is, or who I mean when I refer to my BF, then yeah, you can figure your way past my attempt at protecting the anonymity of people who touch my life, whose actions have an effect on me. That's been tough to reconcile to myself, but I will continue to work on it. I feel it's my right to talk about what I need, to ask for help in processing a situation sometimes, and also I need to vent. So I defend my 'tell most' nature, I think it encourages honest discourse. Besides, if you've got that much to hide...I'm just sayin'. Don't get me wrong, I have my stories I don't publicize either, so those of you who are close to me - no worries, your secrets are safe!

Another topic I hit the floor running with was the fact that I had reconnected with someone I used to know who I let myself believe wanted to be my Prince Charming. Turns out he tells that to all the girls, and I was mad that I let myself fall for it at my age, in my shape! It brings to the surface a lot of what's going on with me in terms of my weight, body issues, and need for companionship. I know that people who love me love me no matter what I look like. I know that a person who is going to be attracted to me will be attracted to my many other fine qualities. I don't feel completely comfortable in this enlarged skin, and I don't believe I'll really let myself get into a relationship before I do. It's funny, I wasn't going to have kids because I thought I'd never be able to give them what I call 'the white picket fence', but here I am doing an o.k. job at it anyway! So maybe if I give up looking for love because I don't think I have the things I need to be a healthy partner, will it find me? The yearly wrap up on all that is, still fat, still single, still chatting online. Yay. I'm starting to think that just knowing what I need to do to get healthy isn't enough. I think it might be time to join some Weight Watchers type thing, where there are other people to help hold me accountable or something...
When I get my life in order - that's when I'll be ready for a boyfriend (in other words, when I'm dead!). No, it'll happen when it's right, I hope.

In that same vein, now would be the time to address the yearly review of the BF - for those who may not know, I mean 'best' friend, not boyfriend, when I speak of this elusive form of wildlife. He is in the same place doing the same thing, and the only thing that's changed is me finally making good on my claim to just be done with it already. As I read back over the blog, I realized that I've been saying how sick I am of the relationship we have since the second post - so I guess it shouldn't be any surprise that we had a huge argument and I walked away from it all. That situation has been looking to blow up for awhile now, and I just have too many other things to focus on that are positive, to let this one big negative drag me down anymore. It hurts and I'm lonely, but ultimately it's the right thing. Sigh. Good time buddies...what it is. More energy to give to my boyfriend, when the Universe delivers him!

Oh my goodness! A man in the house?! No way!! This place is a MESS! I remember when Zev was a baby, and I was wondering how women had time to get everything done, and they told me, "let your housework go." I thought, "no way!" I couldn't do it. There was no way I could do it. Now, 5 years later, I look around my house and think, "this is what it means to let your housework go..." I don't have one of those homes where there's decaying crap in poorly balanced piles to the ceiling and pathways through the clutter, just the ever-present pile of dirty dishes, and unmopped floors. Too many jackets on the coat-rack, too many shoes by the door - that kind of mess. Toys on the coffee table (which is really a trunk), a heap of laundry where I dumped all the dirty sheets, towels and blankets on the living room floor, and where they remain, mocking me as I walk past... My bathroom and kitchen always need a good scrubbing, and if the laundry isn't lying around being dirty, then it is usually hanging around waiting to get dry, or clean waiting to get folded and/or put away. I seem to always be in a state of 'between' dirty and clean, which, isn't clean.

On the bright side, I'm down to one more box to empty, and then I'll be completely unpacked for the first time in...I can't remember when. I think I was fully unpacked for a minute when the boy was small, so just over 4 years ago? This place was a dump when I moved in, much like many of my previous haunts, but over time and with patience, I have scrubbed and painted and decorated, and now it almost looks like something. Without a doubt, way better than it was, but still, the ongoing struggle with the mess. Also, the garden looks like it's off to a good start this year, my pansies came back in abundance, and I built a pretty rock wall to replace the ugly bricks. I dug out some of the giant old hostas to make room for more pretty flowers, and perhaps a shrub. Just needs a bit of soil to fill in where the hostas were and some mulch, and I think we're good to go!

Well, there's a few more topics I wanted to cover still, but I wasn't intending to write an epic poem or anything, and I have other stuff I need to get to today! I've spent enough time on this post, I've got the next one ready to go, and the one after that planned as well. I just wish I had some more images to share...need to work on that! Anyway, sending love and happiness out into the Universe on this Gorgeous Spring day! Peace, hippies! Dear god, I'm listening to Steve Miller...must...change......station.........

Huh.

2010-03-19T22:31:00.005-04:00

All right, people, apparantly I fucked up... The Grapevine told me that my RANTS of late have caused some stir some miles from here. Interesting. I feel like I try so hard to keep things anonymous, but that I didn't really see how the connection might have run (me, the conspiracy theorist). Oops, sorry, my bad. Spank me? It won't be the first time my name's been thrown around the gutter of that town, sadly enough. We all have our moments.

It's so weird, this separating of identities! Or maybe I'm just doing it wrong, who knows. Always, I feel wronged by some..one, by some thing, and I write about it. And a bunch of people get mad at me. But a few folks, just a few, they smile.

I don't know what not to say anymore, does it matter? I guess it does. We all keep each other's secrets, or we're supposed to, how does that work out for us? Perhaps I'm the one who's betraying a friend, godawful thing...

I really am trying to do better.

RANT III: though it's more of a sob, or a whimper

2010-03-13T21:14:00.006-05:00

I gotta tell ya, I didn't see this one coming...

I guess it started OUT an o.k. day, and I wonder if I can pinpoint where it went wrong. I did some writing this morning, and then took a good, hot and soapy shower, because it had been a few days... That pretty much took until the kid got home from school 'cause they had a half day today, and it's Friday, so there wasn't any homework (yaay!). Necessity drove us to the mall - tomorrow is my niece's birthday, and she's having a sleepover - to the girlie accessory shop for pink and shiny oversize rings, feathery earrings, chunky bracelets; and to the department store for Bakugan.

O.k., I think we're closing in on our first snag in the fabric of the day - the boy hadn't wanted to go to the mall in the first place, and I don't blame him - I'm not much for shopping, and it usually gets frustrating before it gets done. Now, my kid is a sweet kid, by the standards of most of the folks he runs into, but he hasn't been minding me lately, and it's been...pissing me off. Look back two posts for a discussion on how much I like to be pissed off. I've threatened that if I have to tell him three times to not do what he's doing, I'm not gonna buy him the cool toy that's sitting in the cart next to him, the mind-blowingly cool toy we didn't even know existed until we saw it in the store just prior to putting it in the cart...even though it's not HIS birthday.

So he touches what he shouldn't, or runs ahead into the crowd, or what-have-you I don't even remember anymore, and I stop in my tracks, give him the, 'I can't believe you just DID the thing again' look, and swing the cart around saying, "oh, well, guess we're putting the toy back then." He cries, I feel like the biggest asshole in the world (because there were only two on the shelf and who knew if there would be any more so we'd better get it while the getting was good), stopping my roll just short of the checkout (sans toy) to have a heart-to-heart in the girls' department. Basically I make him swear to be the best boy ever in the whole world for the rest of his life, and I will suspend punishment of his transgression and get the toy. The world is good, forward progression resumes, one more stop to go...

...but wait!!! I want something, just for me. Selfish, I know, but true. There is a little pink building between here and there, and I've been meaning to stop in for awhile, so I hijack myself to the tattoo / piercing place. My mom had my ears pierced when I was 8, because I guess she wanted hers pierced when she was 8 and wasn't allowed, but she didn't ask me, and I resented that. When I was 15, she wouldn't give me permission to get a double pierce, but I went and got one anyway. I had a cat named Delia who traveled with me for 5 years, and when she died, I fasted for a week, then put in a triple pierce for her (I dug that cat). I hardly ever wear earrings in my first holes, which represent my mom and my dad to me, but for the past 20 years or so, I've worn a small silver ring in the double pierce, which is on the left side. In the triple, also on the left, I've worn a stainless stud. Today, I changed out the silver ring for a blue ring with a silver ball that is up a gauge (owie), and I changed out the stainless for a green ball, green for Delia's eyes. I also put in a double on the right (owie), a purple ball, for Zev because his birthstone is amythest. He just kind of sat still and looked around the whole time, the place got kind of busy. I think he was afraid to look! Anyway, back on track to...

...the costume shop. My friend speculated to me recently that life would be all good if he only had a rainbow afro wig. Done. If that's all it takes, man, I got your back! Right? If someone I care about can experience happiness by way of something so simple to provide?  And if this friend was pretty down into the depressive dumps, like, all the way down?  One rainbow afro wig comin' up, man!  Now, on the ride to wigtown, I asked the kid a hundred times if he was hungry, the afternoon getting on towards evening by now, and he refused all offers of food, but named his thirst a priority. We accomplish yet another mission, and with water bottle and wig in hand, we rolled on towards the delivery, and I called another friend who apparantly was open to having us all over tonight. Super!

The afro was a hit. I'm that good, because it's that easy! The kid waited in the car. Now he really wanted to go home. I said we should stop for some food and go check out another friend for a bit, then head home.  He insisted he still wasn't hungry. About 10 minutes up the road, just a few hundred yards from my buddy's driveway, the poor little guy says "my belly hurts" and promptly pukes all over himself. Oh, goodness..."just hang on buddy, we're almost there! Hang on, we'll get to the house, get you in, and get you all cleaned up, don't worry, it's o.k., here we are..."

My boy doesn't really like getting wet all that much, let alone sitting in a puddle of his own puke, and the shreiking that ensued while I had to half-drag him into the house as he clenched his shaking little fists into balls wrenched my heart. We beelined straight for the bathroom, got him naked, wiped off, and tucked in under a blanket on the couch, and I ran back out to the car for my bag o' tricks. These two bags packed for the apocolypse that I've kept in my trunk now for 6 years, and had recently considered not needing anymore, made me proud to be equipped for the incident. The small boy was soon reclothed in dry and comfy gear, and tucked back in with a movie. He drank a few gulps of water. Crisis averted. About 20 minutes later, he puked again.

By now, I had just finished pulling out the carseat, toweling the puke off the backseat and the floor of the car, and disassembling the carseat for washing. I took the boy in the bathroom, stripped him down and toweled him off AGAIN, tucked him back in on the opposite end of the couch (in his underpants and socks this time), toweled off the couch, and added a SECOND pile of his clothes along with the blankets to the growing pile of wash. Lucky my friend has a washer and dryer! He takes another few gulps of water, and after about ten more minutes, he pukes again. Now I call the doctor. He has me check my son's abdomen for pain, in case of appendicitis, but he seems clear of that danger, and to have just succumbed to the stomach bug of the month. He's six, and this is the second time he's ever puked (other than spitting up as a baby, which he did in abundance), so it's no biggie, really. I wrap him in a comfy shirt of mine from out of the bag, and tuck him in once more...

Here's the second snag - my friend who's house it is starts in with his half-drunk proselytising on what he considers to be an over-reaction on my part to the kid's well-being. I argue with him for a bit, about how he doesn't understand the urgency with which parenting can sometimes require you to be present in, but all he does by way of helping to keep me reassured is to loudly proclaim , "Wow, you REALLY need a man in your life!" repeatedly. Fine, I say after a bit, I need a man's opinion? I'll call the kid's father, if I'm not to be trusted with my own opinion in this situation. The father is called, and I hand the phone over for the men to discuss business that is obviously outside my real of understanding.  Once they have consulted and it's MY turn to discuss our child with the other parent, I am vindicated by the words, "well, HE'S wasted...", followed by a thoughtfully concerned inquiry into the state of the boy, and calming conjecture and conference with me about the course of action. He is a good friend...

Then, things seem to calm down.  My muffin's stomach appeared to settle itself a bit, and he valiantly tried to fall asleep among the too loud voices, the noise of the laundry, and the t.v. (I'd have taken him home in a NY minute, but his carseat and coat were spinning in the laundry). I turned off the t.v. and the lights in the living room, tucked him in with a fresh blanket, sat with him and helped him slow his breath and integrate the noises around him into a lullaby. As he drifted off, I slowly withdrew myself from his bubble of tenuous sleep, rejoined my friends in the kitchen for a cigarette break, and began shuffing some cards to further soothe the high-alert out of my nerves. I took a few deep breaths. I had a tall glass of water, and a snack. I was tired, but I was happy to be almost over this small incident with a few friends nearby to enjoy a game of cards with while the laundry turned...as the boy slept, and things got cleaned, an air of playfulness gently poked it's way through the loud punctuations of the frequent drinkers, while I indulged my preference for smoke (yay!). Ahh.

Snag three, the BIG one. I don't even know how far into this I have the emotional strength to go - it's taken me twice as long to write about as it did to live it already, and I would like to start dealing with being in the aftermath of it now. How do I even approach it? My friend has this other friend...I can't stand her. She rubs me the wrong way. Every instance in which I've had to deal with her leaves me incredulous, and crawling with disdain. Let's just say I've made it clear that I will not share space with this woman, and yet she continues to show up at my friend's when she knows I'm there. He's not going to disassociate with her entirely just because I don't like her, but he does a pretty good job of keeping the two of us seperate.  She shows up, I leave. Period. But tonight, I got a sick kid sleeping on the couch, whose clothes and carseat are still spinning in the dryer - the MOMENT this bitch sets foot in the house, I am in kill mode. My eyes get big, my heart starts pounding , and I start telling the person sitting next to me in very hushed tones that 'she needs to go'. This is imperitive. The intruder must leave the premises immediately. My friend whose house it is, instead of stopping her at the door and explaining that she can't play tonight, actually leads her in - to the room my kid is sleeping in!!! I'm an adrenaline fountain. I realize that she's not leaving. He's not asking her to leave. He's talking quietly with her in the other room...the bitch comes sauntering into the kitchen where the other dude and I are sitting, and says in a mocking tone, "hel-lo!" making it clear to me that she has no plans of leaving. I am up out of my chair. My other friend is standing there doing nothing, so I'm out. I'm putting on my shoes, and I am leaving. I shout once that "she has to GO!" before I get on my boots, which takes way longer than I want it to, because now my less than friendly friend is yelling at me and telling me I need to chill, while he is still making no attempt to remove this person from his house. I grab my poor sleeping kid from under the blankets, half naked, and carry him out into the chilly night, where his bare bottom must have loved sliding onto the cold leather seat, ran back in for my keys, and drove off into midnight -

I thought it was over once we were home and I had the boy safely tucked in to my bed next to me, but the phone rang several times in the night, which of course, I didn't answer. I checked the messages this morning though, and it was my (thinking he's not really a) friend whose house it was calling on the cell phone of the other dude who was there, to tell me what a fucking cunt I was, and because of the drama I had stirred up, he now had no contacts and no prospects of work as a result of his cell phone getting smashed. I dunno. I didn't call him back. He called later in the day from his own number, though, to tell me I left some stuff at his house - frankly, I wasn't planning on going back for it, I was just gonna give it up for dead...

Anyway, that's the story, from my MY perspective at least. I am so. completely. humiliated and beside myself with greif that my two friends did nothing to back me up, and ask this person to leave. I've known these guys a long time, and I thought my comfort level meant a bit more to them than that, but I was wrong again. Who the HELL can you count on, anymore? And to be called awful words and accused of causing the destruction of property because the fact that this woman whom I hate so much once brought over a pizza when we were down and out - when I have been there time and again for 20 years? There's plenty of goddamned people in the world who've fed us when we were down and out who he wouldn't give a second thought about tossing out of his house on my account or anyone else's! Given these particular circumstances, I am beyond heartbreak. I've been so lonely in my life, having lost more relationships than I've gained, and now I realize that I must be even lonlier still before I see this transition through. It's enough to send me through a whole bar of dark chocolate, and losing the fight against a fierce hankering for some soda.

I guess I've put down all I need to say about this right now, and I'm hoping I'm sufficiently purged, because I'm ready to be free of this 'place'. All this upheaval, all this change. Not just here with me, I've seen it a couple of other places as well, in others. I'm feeling sadly Zen, if that's a possible way to feel. And I think I've come to the end of it. It's now night of the following day, having kept myself and the boy in bed throughout as much of it as possible, because we're both relatively exhausted and drained. He didn't make it to his cousin's party, and I didn't get my night out. I can't even guess what I may need right now, but I'm gonna go cast about and see if I can't find something that might nourish and revive me, soothe me, and help me see my way through.

The kid nailed it - he wanted chicken soup, and I had made some brown rice...earthy goodness,

THE END

RANT II

2010-03-10T09:51:00.000-05:00

This is going to be a bit personal, so consider yourself warned...

One thing I did not touch on in my rant yesterday (the deleted paragraph), was the anger I felt at a certain dude who didn't respond to my requests for help with childcare (I sent out a facebook event invite, and he checked 'maybe'). He didn't respond to my emails, didn't answer my phone calls, and didn't call me back the whole time I was in VT. His older child is just about the same age as mine, and I had thought we were great friends. Dude and Babydaddy were in a band together for years - I took a lot of photos for them and never asked for anything in return. I did their booking out of the kindness of my heart.  I did these things because I like to help my friends succeed; it makes me feel good to do kindness for others, and, of course, it put money in all our pockets (and a few free drinks).

When Babydaddy and I broke up, Dude and I stayed friends. We became more than friends - we became intimate. I thought this was because he liked me, cared about me, had genuine feelings for me that he had kept to himself out of respect for my relationship. We didn't date or anything, just a now and then sort of thing, and it was nice. Comfortable and sweet, our little secret.  We would chat online in the evenings when the kids were asleep, and we stayed in touch when I moved to NY. I would always pop in and visit when I was in town. Just before he got married recently, he contacted me in an intimate way, claiming his soon-to-be bride didn't fulfill all his needs...well. I don't go there. He was unattached during all our times together, but I don't touch a guy in a serious relationship, call me crazy!  I haven't heard from him since.

He was a facebook friend, until yesterday. He never posted to my wall, deleted my comments, didn't respond to my messages... I'm no dope, I got the message. I ask you, invisible audience, What's Up With That?  Do I pose a threat to his marriage?  To his manhood? I've never been anything but kind to this man, and he treated me like a piece of ass. I think now that the only reason he ever wanted to be with me was that he was in love with my boyfriend. He couldn't fuck my boyfriend (that would be gay!) but he could fuck me, and put his dick where boyfriend's dick had been, and he'd get what he wanted by association. Am I being spiteful? Or am I seeing the truth more clearly? Either way, I was hurt in retrospect by his non-response to my saying 'hey, old friend, let's get together with the kids and introduce me to your new wife'.

Then I found out he was AT Goddard while I was there, and made no attempt to seek me out and say hello. That really hurt. I know I'm mostly a bitch (yes I am!), but when I care about people, I care about them truly and deeply, and I am fiercely loyal to them through thick and thin.  Sometimes even when I shouldn't be - hey, we all have our faults. I have a few exes I am still friendly with because I don't stop loving someone just because I'm no longer fucking them. In fact, I have been intimate with (how many?) of my friends, and I believe it only brings us closer, makes our ties stronger, because of the level of intimacy we have shared. It's a trust issue, in my mind.  "I have trusted you with my body, with my deep secrets, with my moans of ecstasy - will you betray me?" This is the question we don't ask each other, but the answer is always "you can trust me, I will not betray you. I will love you, always". In my heart, I will always love this man who has betrayed me, although I can no longer count him amongst my friends. He will never know how he has hurt me, why would he care? But I still cried a little at the loss of him.

I love you all. Truly, deeply and forever. I will never knowingly hurt you, or betray you, or cause you lasting pain. This is my promise to those of you who have stuck by me, again and again, even when I wasn't worth sticking by. I need every single one of you in my life, like I need water and air and food. You are my friends, and you are special, and I am blessed.

Selah

RANT

2010-03-09T00:43:00.001-05:00

It's really too late to start this now, as it's past 10pm, and I'm tired. I was tired at 8pm. Hell, I was tired at 8am! But I'll try. Not like anyone cares, but I feel like I made a promise, and I am a keeper of promises (and secrets), so I will do my best, and go public with it. I need for 'you all' to start reading my blog more regularly, as I need to figure it into my study this semester...that sounds so funny!  'This semester'! Like a teenager away from home for the first time! Well, o.k., maybe not like that, but it's been a loooong time since I referred to the span of a few months as 'this semester'. So let's start the rant there - with the beginnings of my semester...

It was a clear, cold morning as we rolled into town, the landscape white and hushed from the evening's snowfall...no, just kidding, it isn't that kind of story! Upon my arrival at Goddard, the dude at the Help Desk pissed me off. My room on campus pissed me off. Being pissed off pisses me off, and that's a lot of pissing for someone who is particularly uneasy with a certain fetish. Anyway, as it all turns out, the residency itself was very productive and inspiring, and I got a good price on a weekly at the local motel. Childcare was a breeze. A good number of people stepped up to help me out with the boy, and I give them my undying love and highest degree of gratitude - you all are my heros, thanks!

Having said that (I just deleted an entire paragraph on just one dude), I would like to say, "WHY THE HELL ARE SO MANY OF MY FRIENDS ADDICTS?!?! There are alcoholics, potheads, pillheads, crackheads, drama queens, neg-heads, what-have-you. What does that say about me? Hate the sin love the sinner (not that I deal much with the realm that 'sin' originates from)? Granted, I have my own struggles with food and weight issues, and I have the once a month (once a week, once a day) desire to get stoned - but I don't roll out of bed in the morning smelling like last night's whisky binge!  WHY would my good friend try to work a hustle on me?! Am I stupid? Do I deserve to be taken? Haven't I been there/done that? In this life, at our age, WHY?! What possible gains are there? Is it a carefully planned suicide? People, please. I know you've seen past your pain, past your fear, into a world of light. I KNOW this because you've told me. We've discussed it. Yes, it's scary. But I am your FRIEND! I will help you as I can, when I can, as soon as you are ready to let all that shit go. It's a desperate, ugly place, and it takes a lot of energy to live there - energy that could be put to better use.

The childcare thing - I was in VT for 10 days, and I had relatively reliable childcare ALL 10 DAYS!!! I live in NY, houses away from my 'family', and I'm lucky to get one night out once every two months!!! WTF?!?!  I am, at this point, calling 'the NY experiment' a supreme failure, and making plans to move back to VT, where I can live in organic bliss with my junked-out friends...or, hopefully, make some new ones amongst the school moms. I tried it, I didn't like it, and now I want to get my kid out of here before any permanent damage can take hold. Coming 'home' after 10 days in VT is like a poison invading my bloodstream. My moron neighbor downstairs is such a PRICK! I lived in a motel for a week, and had better neighbors than him! This 'community' makes me sick to my stomach. Remember the plow guy who took the landlady's $50 to plow the driveway after I shoveled it? Asshole plowed my stairs under when we got all that snow while I was gone! That's the kind of people that live HERE. I am not that kind of people. I loathe such people, and want to be as far away from them as possible. Vermont will do, short of leaving the country altogether. Because, really, where would I go, Canada? Why the hell not, Montreal is a pretty swingin' town!

So - I feel another FB friend list purge coming on, and I hope I have the strength to let myself remember who my REAL friends are, not the ones I'm afraid to see go because it means a shift in my needs, in my life, like leaving them behind so I can move on to better things. 108 friends...I don't have 108 friends, I have 8! Maybe! And I don't care about hurt feelings, either, because the truth is, these folks have hurt ME, and I don't need that kind of friend anymore. Never really did, for that matter!  This has been a pretty mild RANT for what I'm capable of, but it's after midnight now, and I just don't have the steam to bark out loud. Perhaps I'll read this over in the morning and see if it needs some work ~

Good night

Laundry Day

2010-02-03T00:25:00.046-05:00

Moon Washing

playing with electronic controls

Pond Scum, Algae, Seaweed, Muck.

2010-02-01T10:09:00.001-05:00

Too long, too long, in the same position, in the same room. Need to open all the windows, let in the Spring, but alas, she is still a promise on the lips the Sun is pressing against my window. Still too cold for all that. Need to go out, to do daily little life-type things, have been too long right HERE. Been icky sick, just wanted to lay down and sleep for three days and forget the kid...yeah right. But a good draught of Mom's chicken soup has me in an 'o.k., let's pick up this mess, and get back on track!' kinda mood. There's the get up go life-type things, yes, but there's papers to write and commitments to attend to...hmm.

Oh, it's tax time! I love tax time - because I'm so poor, I get LOTS of money! Is that rude to say? Who's reading this, anyway? Robin? Mark? Who cares, it's the truth. I'll probably get about $6000 this year, yay. WHAT should I DO with it? It's so much money for a person like me - I go through this every year, it's like winning the lottery. I think to myself, "O.k.. I have a pile of money RIGHT NOW. It's NOT going to last.  Do I pay 5 months rent up front? Or get a new (used) car? I see some photo equipment and a trip to the book store in my future, too..." This is when a financial consultant would be really useful, someone who can tell me how to get the most out of my windfall - to parlay my leverage into a mutual intrest split-atom percentage bearing fuzz-chuzzle, so I don't have to worry about college because I live in a section of the non-profit farming cooperative I helped found with the support of the rich weirdo underwriter-takers. So I'm set, you see? All with my $6000 tax return. Yessiree.

Too haste, the day is wasting!  It's 10am, but I'm having fun, and isn't that the point? We're both out of underwear, and there's no milk, and I have to go verify my identity with the state, and I have to stretch, and oh yeah I was going to finish my degree so it might be nice to do some work towards that goal, and I have 3 or 4 pages of writing exercises to get through, and 5 library books to read, and Zack needs a ride later, and and and....

I just really needed to check in with myself, first. Nice to see you, me! Have a great day! : )

To work, then...

2010-01-22T01:52:00.001-05:00

Friday
So I wrote the proposal, sent a draft to Bob, with a preliminary outline. I guess the next step is to powerslam my way through 'Nexus', get it all down in one usable form, fast as I can! Bust out a list of equipment and the associated costs - and go look up Kinko's in the phone book. And compile a reading list, Egads!

Monday
AND Bob got back to me much faster than I thought, so revising the proposal as well...

My grandfather has a digital camera, maybe I could borrow it? Should I put one of those 'all work copyright to me' things on here? I should call my grandfather, he fell down the other day...

But what I REALLY want to do is get the house ready for my party! Just some cleaning, and a touch of decorating, burn some incense and play music... It's a grey rainy day, and that sucks, because I don't really like grey rainy days. Well, it depends on the context. I guess I don't mind them so much in Spring or Fall, but in Summer they're usually hot and muggy as well, and in Winter they're days to crawl back in the cave and hibernate. Anyway. Guess I'll keep saving this draft, maybe publish it at the end of a few days, after something interesting happens!

Thursday
Happy birthday to me! Well, nothing exciting happened. BF and I drove up to Hurley, NY yesterday to procur a bottle of locally crafted absinthe for my party on Saturday, but alas, they were out of stock! We had to settle for the Mata Hari, but it's all good. I'm not really sure who all's showing up this year, seems pretty slim...ah, it'll be fun, it always is! I have to assume K's not coming, as per his fb post about G's passing, sad to hear. And I see also on B's fb page that she has a gig with P on Sunday, so I can't assume he'll be here Saturday night...which means no D as well. Just a mellow one, I guess!

Selah

Ugh. Awake at 1:30 in the morning...

2010-01-14T02:30:00.002-05:00

Went to bed at 6:30, maybe 7:00? The kid came and crawled in next to me, even though I knew I'd be up later. So he's lying there behind me, computer-glow splashed across his cheek, as I tap tap away at the keyboard, wondering if it's worth trying to say something. It's that stillness, the one I seek so often in this crazy traffic-land community, and I feel restricted in it - because I wanted to write something. Because the Morning Pages have been lovely, and reading over all that old crap was depressing, and I want there to be something new.

The labyrinth stuff is great, and I think it's very important as a vehicle to understanding myself, but it's less the meat of a study than the potatoes. Or perhaps the veggies... Oh, yes, I like that.

It's really about this Nexus thing, isn't it? Getting it done, and seeing what I've got. It's about digital imaging, god help me, and self-publishing. Making books. It's about studio shots of ladies getting to know themselves, and understanding what that means. We will reveal our secrets...

                                            I am a Goddess of Dark Places

                            in blood, and in sacrifice. I am your Holy Anger.

                  I am not I but Her

through me, She dances my feet

        coiling snakes through my spine.

                                      Wound through the fire at every turn

                     drawn into it -

rolling

    in waves

        where the winds blow.

Excellent. That was worth something. So the meat is Nexus, the potatoes will be my foray into more modern imaging methods and print options. Kinko's, here we come..do they even HAVE Kinko's here? And I've got my veggies...actually, now that I think about it, I'd like to rethink my food analogy. The labyrinth is more like the fruit, imaging is the veggies, and Nexus is the whole grains. Tune in next week for body mind and spirit brownies! If only...

A two page proposal, that's all it is. A healthy breakfast. A clear and focused thought. Yum.

What is that, velvet?

2010-01-13T10:08:00.001-05:00

My alarm is about to go off, but I just wanted to tag the page, so I would know it was waiting here for me when I had a chance to get back...oop, there it is!

60 Revolutions per minute / this is my regular speed...So. Done at the Orchard, collecting unemployment, getting organized for school. A year at Goddard to knock out that project, then on to better things. It's a lot to organize, there's a big pile of it - a big, steamy, pile! Sorry, that was gross. But seriously, there's so many things to look over, to see what's relevant, to find a grip. Ah, it feels good to be! Just this time of year, when the Sun reminds me he is here, with the frozen promise of his smile, waking and shaking off December...the winter long from over, but coming out the other side of it, seeing to Spring. Francelia, with her 'did you hear the greening?'.

I've been procrastinating on my thesis proposal, because opening those files with those words in them will be like unsealing a casket, with the vacuous release of dust, as if a mummy from it's tomb...ancient and dangerous secrets, records of stillbirths, echoing down halls. To throw my mind into the shadows of that hallway, and bring out a speck of what was once worth something, a heartbeat, a life. Repairing a fence.

Getting a lot done in the meantime of avoiding it, though - nothing that would get me a degree or a job or anything, but productive nonetheless! O.k., time to face the dead...

Trying out a new template

2010-01-03T21:53:00.004-05:00

Tell me if you like it! I haven't decided quite yet, but the old one was starting to bug me a bit... There was another one I liked just as much, but short of having someone 'do it' for me, this is the best it's gonna get, I fear! I guess I'll try this out for a bit, and see how I feel. I can always change it!

Hmmm. I see my timestamp has gone back to being 'undefined', which is the same problem I had the LAST time I tried to change my template... Maybe it just needs some time to straighten itself out. Yeah, I'll go with that for now...for now.

Why Can't You Behave?

2009-11-14T09:31:00.012-05:00

That's the title of the Ella Fitzgerald song playing on my Pandora Radio station just now...Been staring at this screen for a few days now, thinking, "write, write!" but I've nothing to say...Careful, I may actually convince myself of that! The mind decides...

Boys. The small boy at home, the BF, all of the boys in the world. Men? Not a one. Why? Again, the mind decides...

The boss wanted to have a talk with me about stuff. Not quite sure what was said. She asked me to stop yelling at her boyfriend's dog. I should at least do that for her, but I still hate her boyfriend. HATE him! Can't stand him! I hated him before she started dating him, so, whatever that has to do with anything, I can't say, but I'm not gonna start liking him for her.

What's really been bugging me is, she said I act differently when she's there, then I do when she's not there. I thought that was strange. I asked who said it, and she said, "more people than you would think." Huh? What does that mean? It wouldn't occur to me that anyone would think that, so...one person said it? That's beside the point. The point is, I told her on Thursday that I was planning on going back to college, and on Friday she had a bunch of criticism for me. I know how she goes. She's so sensitive, emotionally, she takes it personally. So I guess maybe I shouldn't. But I hate being evaluated - she's said herself that being in retail is like being on stage, and some days, my performance is flat. Isn't it that way for all of us? I don't 'kill' every day, how can I ? I don't always FEEL good. I don't look good, I didn't have anything good to eat for a few days, it's a cold rainy day...Blah! Sometimes we're all just blah. Should I call in Blah? Oh, it'll all be o.k., change happens slowly, there will be great fortune.

The kid is funny. He 'kills' every day. His latest is: "Mom, I told Kaitlyn that 100 + 100 is 200, and she tried to kiss me." Me: "Wow, she must really like math." Z: "Yeah." So cute. Just a growing boy. No joy like a growing boy. Joy, and "get the hell out of my room and don't come back 'till noon...

BF is, as always, an annoying pain in the ass, but I guess he's MY annoying pain in the ass until we manage to find ourselves decent partners.

I suppose I'm looking to work WITH people, more than for them. And I want to be using my skills to further a project that is mutually beneficial to all humans.

Truth in Advertising

2009-10-30T23:45:00.005-04:00

Well, I gotta tell ya, the gardening fairy was not my friend this year...to be fair, we had a poor growing season, but that's no excuse for what happened here! The above image is a doomed pumpkin vine, which gave me lovely blooms (image below), but not one pumpkin! The squirrels and rabbits ate well in THIS yard, this season...

Also pictured with my lovely pumpkin blossom are my 'dwarf' carrots - they grew about 1, 1 1/2 inches long. Weird. Just little runt carrots. *shrug* As BF pointed out, they probably would have been good in a salad; but I was impatient and pissed off, so all the failed veggies went to compost. Lotsa rain this Summer...

Our peppers just never grew. They reached their height and got frozen in time -

And, the infamous strawberry plant that got raided by critters, and yielded me not one fruit!

random moments

2009-10-14T10:16:00.004-04:00

*I wrote this weeks ago, already, and I was debating whether or not to post it. I'm still not sure, but I'm going to go for it, and see what happens...

It's time for this, though I don't know what 'this' is... I called in 'needing a cocktail' to work today, I guess that was honest of me. It's 10 am, and I'm getting ready to have it. Never mind that I've been stoned since 7.

We haven't had a decent meal in days, snacking on whatever's laying on the counter; challah, chips, pb&j, crackers, fruitabu, and cookies. So instead of going to work, I thought I'd get stoned, have a drink, and try to fix the life the child doesn't know is broken, yet.

I live too close to the edge for parenting, or child-rearing. Things just look too dangerous sometimes. It doesn't seem safe. But the problem is more that I have turned dull, given up, gone soft. I'm too tired all the time - my body hurts, I'm fat, I'm broke. I'm lucky that I work at a farm market, and I can call in needing a cocktail, but do you know, there is not one apple in my house? I can't even tell you the last time I ate an apple. Or any other fruit, for that matter. Lame. Super-lame! I need to change my relationship with food, and fast.

I love my job, I do. If you have to be a wage-slave, at least you can slave at something worthwhile, which is why I am happy to do what I do. And to be sure, I am more than 'just a cashier' which is the passive-aggressive phrase I've been muttering under my breath for a week or two now, but I need something more. Is it philosophical neurosis? A mid-life crisis? I hope not the crisis, because I was planning on making it to 100, so I've got another decade on that one, according to my own clock... I feel like I'm letting time go by. Like I'm a spectator, checking down the items of a list. I want my time back, to do what I see fit with it - to create something because it is necessary. I want time back to explore, to seek out new options, to rekindle a spark, to initiate a journey, freedom. There are needs that be.

Where is the Supernanny? I need a personal assistant to help me hang my to do's on the wall, work off a list until I grow the habit...re-learn what it's like to face the world ready. If A and B get done, C will fall into place and than D will come along. It's a perfect plan. When and how to start? Where to begin? In the old days, it would be to take a hot shower and go to bed, because it meant the acid was wearing off. Smoke more pot, have that Hard Lemonade. Take a shower, and pick up the BF - we'll talk about running off to Tahiti, writing a novel, winning the lottery. Pell grants make college look like an actual option.

Summer Stock - The Last

2009-09-13T17:03:00.008-04:00

Well, nothing says Summer's over like the first day of school! Here's my shot of the boy getting off the bus after his first day of Kindergarten - I didn't get a shot of him getting on the bus, I was too busy making sure he got on o.k., and holding back all my crazy mama feelings! I was bracing for the worst - clinging to my leg, screaming, crying, a big scene - but he climbed right up those steps, said, "Bye Mom!" and he was gone. I got a little choked up (I'm not an emotional chick) but that was a bit of a shock! I was proud and scared and happy and sad, and I wanted to sit right there and just wait for him to come home rather than go to work, but I got through it o.k.. At least now, I actually get to work on time, and I'm saving lots of money not paying for daycare anymore, or driving to and from daycare to drop off and pick up every morning and every afternoon! He gets on the bus, and I walk up the street to work! In the afternoon, he gets dropped off at the Orchard, and we walk home together. Bonus!

I haven't checked in in awhile as it's busy season at the Orchard, and I come home so tired that all I want to do is go straight to bed, but obviously, we have to do the homework and dinner routine, bathtime, and set up for the morning so we can get out on time. I'm getting used to the routine, and in some ways, things seem a bit easier, more defined. Maybe I'm finally getting the hang of this Mommy thing after all...although, as of now, we have no after-school commitments, but that will change as I may decide to sign us up for a martial arts class twice a week. I think it's important to keep the kid active, and I trained for years back in the day, and I think it may be just what I need to get my lovely round behind back into shape! See, I'm not a saggy fat chick, I'm a curvy, solid fat chick (thank god!), but I really need a lot more energy to keep me going. We eat well, but I get no exercise other than running back and forth through the store all day, or lifting heavy things (50 lb. bags of potatoes and onions, gallons of cider, crates of apples, etc.).

I had lots of things on the 'to do' list this weekend, but I spent most of it in bed watching movies, recovering from a super busy 14+ day run - I've been flat out since the end of August, with work and school, and weekend commitments, places to be and things to do every day after work, and I'm just beat. I found homes for the mama cat and three of the four kittens, and I'll miss them, but I'm also happy to be reclaiming my house! It was nice to have them, but I'm looking forward to having just the one to deal with, and to mop my floors! They do make kind of a mess, cute as they are. We'll be keeping the first-born, Mr. Spats Gatsby, as we've been calling him, a little black kitty with white feet and white tuxedo-like markings on his neck and belly. I'll post some pics as I get to it...Mama cat, Kaia, went back to the BF where she originally came from, and she seems a bit depressed, but I'm hoping she'll cheer up soon enough. One little kitty went to a customer of mine at the orchard, and one went to my boss's sister. So I know they're in good hands, and that finding a home for #3 (as we've been calling her) won't be too far away!

So, there's the run-down. Work is balls to the wall, the boy is doing great (if a bit bored, he's so smart) in Kindergarten, the BF is always the same (not even trying to find work, spending every dollar that comes into his hands on beer and cigarettes), and not a guy to date in sight! I opened a few more boxes, put a few more things on shelves or hung them from the ceiling, and I'm looking forward to being totally unpacked sometime this month. Next home improvement project is to paint the kitchen, and then the place will feel clean. Really truly clean, like bust out the sage, and call it mine, finally. Things are settling into place - my greatest fear realized. But hey, I'm sure I'll find some kind of chaos or other to play with once everything is where I need it to be, I promise! 'Till next time - may all your endeavors be fruitful!

Summer Stock #11

2009-08-10T07:05:00.016-04:00

Very short (and late) post this week, just wanted to say, "Look what I built!" I ordered this loft online, unfinished, back in April, and it has been lying around on my living room floor in various incarnations since then...

From shipping boxes, to raw wood, to half-stained, to one coat on everything, to a second coat on half of it, to two full coats on ALL pieces (yes, each piece needed to be stained individually, and there are more pieces than you can see...). Then I emptied the boy's room, put two coats of paint on, and FINALLY assembled the damn thing yesterday (Sunday, August 9).

Many thanks to my BF, who helped IMMENSELY with this project by helping me stain when he could, when he had a free day, and came over to work on it while I was at work - also for helping get the room painted, and with the finally assembly. I COULD have done it without him, but I'm glad I didn't have to!

Luckily, the boy was visiting with Grandma yesterday, so he was not underfoot during the final process! I'm pretty excited to see his reaction when he gets home this afternoon! He helped me empty his room out, so it won't be a total shock, and when I called to say goodnight to him, I told him it was done. Still, I think it will be quite a surprise...and we still have to set the rest of his stuff back up (toys, bookshelves, dresser). As of now, it's an empty room with a loft in it!

And, just because, here's a picture of one of our early apple varieties over at the Orchard - Summer Macs! Yum! Mr. Soons claims to be the first person in NY state to grow these, back in the 1960's - I'm going to believe him!

Summer Stock #10

2009-08-02T21:46:00.028-04:00

Welcome to Soons Orchards - open for its 99th season! It took some blood, a LOT of sweat, and maybe a tear or two to get everything ready for the opening this year, but I got it done - even when my employer popped in (after most of the summer here or there) 3 days 'till opening wanting to rearrange and paint all the furniture! I sucked it up, and made it happen. And nobody even said 'thank you'. No 'job well done' or a pat on the back. No glasses of champagne and toasts to a profitable season. Just business as usual - which is to say, disgruntled employees bitching on day one that they don't want to be here, that they need full-time, year-round employment.

And I'm thinking, "then why did you even bother punching in? Why don't you take your bad attitude right back out the door, and leave me to do my job in peace?" The image to the right is the pretty-as-a-picture little nook just to the left of the front door where I come in every morning. This is one of the reasons I consider myself so lucky to be working where I do, as I water and deadhead the flowers so those that choose to take a little break on our bench have a nice place to reflect for a moment before stepping out of our time-warped farm market back into the hustle and bustle of daily life. Could you walk past this happy little scene, and then choose to have a bad day? Talk about stopping to smell the flowers...

This is just a fun juxtaposition between the Farmer's Choice order (right) having come in on time, and the Webster's order (above) having not! Looks good, huh? The Webster's actually came in on Thursday, the day before our 'soft' opening, so the hutch was actually full on opening day (whew!). Kinda makes you want some jam, doesn't it? Doesn't it? I think it does...! Comes in damn near every variety I can think of, and a few I couldn't have made up...

Finally, we have Slingerland's honey, which is significant, because this is the honey made by the bees that are 'rented' to fertilize our Orchards, who live just up the road from us! We sell a lot of Slingerland honey during the allergy season - some of our customers swear by it! I don't have allergies, so I wouldn't know, but I do know that the local-est honey you can get is what is best to take for allergies, and it doesn't get any local-er than this! The Slingerland's have been selling their honey at the Orchard for just about 60 years, as far as he and Mr. Soons can recall, and I'm willing to bet they're right about that - they were both just teen aged farm-boys back then, and I have to say, it makes me glad in my heart to hear those two get going about 'the old days'. If there were ever a reason to go to work in the morning, for me, it is the possibility of hearing cool stories about simpler times from the sort of people who take the effort to make sure those ways don't die out completely by following in the long-standing traditions of producing a quality product with integrity and expertise. I, for one, see no need to look any further for the sort of work one can feel good about doing, and people one can be proud to say they know. My job may be hard, sometimes, but I am thankful that I have found it. I will not get rich doing this work, but I will make an honest living, and the lessons my son will learn on the farm will be invaluable in the world that he will find himself growing up in. Please support your local farms and farmers - they are our past, and also our future! I don't want to even TRY to imagine my world without them!