Unless I have a nearly constant sip-sip-sip of liquid and the fan blowing directly on me, I can hardly bear it. It is finally cooling off here and the outside temperature is rarely above 90 degrees. There have been a few days, and nights, when it was only in the upper 70s.
Bliss. Pure, unadulterated bliss. Well, it is/was for the times I could be outdoors, and on those days I do stay out in the yard somewhere, sitting and reading in the shade of the one remaining tree that is left. When the insects are too troublesome, I come indoors, get a glass of water and plop myself down in front of the fan.
I am guessing that the reason the furnace is on round the clock is that the temperatures are no longer as if we were sitting in the middle of Death Valley and it is marginally cooler outside. I guess that it does not matter that it is still warmer inside than outside. I can hardly imagine what the utility bills must be. Lordy.
I hate to even mention any of the new, bizarre things that are happening, but I probably should, because this writing here is becoming a kind of documentation, a record of what happens. It is just that I weary of the constant and ever-increasing list of weird crap. I deal with them/it. I adapt to whatever form the new rules take. I adapt again when they change in the next moment and then change again. OK, so a small example, of just a new thing, is that today the telephone has been ringing twice and then the caller hangs up. I let the first half-dozen go and then used the "star-69" function to check the next half-dozen, or so. Like some insane, pulp-horror film practical joke, the calls are coming from inside the house. I know that because they all originate from the third line here.
I am totally cracking up because there is not any reason for someone who is not me to be calling and then hanging up. And, I should not be laughing (even though it is an entirely internal process, except for the smiling), because this is another manifestation of the decline about which no discussion or mention is allowed. I have never been a person to use laughter to ease my discomfort, but that seems to be the behavior into which I am slipping more and more often.
Eventually I will have to force the issue, but that is absolutely not something to which I am looking forward. Nope. I mean, when the times come that it can no longer be ignored, I will do what I have to do, including taking legal control of the aspects of our life that need that to happen. But, I am not happy about that prospect and it is going to take my life from the upper levels of hell directly to the depths. Then, I factor in that it must, at least once in a damn time, be distressing for someone who is not me, to be experiencing all of this; I mean, there must be some self-awareness about the process at least once in a while. It simply is not possible that I am the only one suffering here. It just keeps getting worse and I marvel at all of the other people who have learned to cope with this kind of thing. You know, I am willing to do this, but I still wish most days that it would just go away, disappear. And, then, I feel guilty when I think of how close I was to leaving here and making a new life. I was making the final arrangements and was, literally, only a couple of weeks from making my escape. So close.
That quality of documentation was not my intent. I chose to write here to work out my own issues, my own, personally-driven inner-process work. For that, it is working well. I come here, write and it helps me release everything negative or stressful or heartbreaking that happens, most especially the heartbreaking stuff. Just writing that brings the stupid, old tears, the ones that are my way of mourning the loss of so much of what I hoped that my life would have. There are times when the sadness overwhelms me and I fear that I might not be able to go on.
Then, I recover a bit, come here, write it all out and, whilst it never gets better and writing will certainly do nothing to facilitate any change with anyone, it comforts me in a life that does not offer any other form or measure of comfort or release. But, at least, I am less frightened when I write and get rid of everything. That is especially important now that I am stuck here, needing to deal with the decline of someone who is not me. Writing, divesting myself of the fear, worry and pain makes it possible to make it through most days. The really terrible things will never be shared here. I keep them written down, of course, but in a more private place.
I think that my traveling schedule for the next several weeks is a consequence of understanding that 'here' is not going to get any better and that if I want to go to the two places that have waited decades for me to plan travel, now is the time. To wait even a few more months might be too late. Maybe it is already too late. I just cannot decide, and like any other self-deceiver, I am putting off to the distant tomorrows what I cannot handle today. If it were just not so fucking hot, I could probably think more clearly and make plans that make sense. Instead, I am running away. Fuck. So be it. I do not leave for nearly two weeks and anything can happen and probably will. Fuck.
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Better now
I have been thinking about this latest thing and I have decided that I prefer to be a person who has an open heart, even if I have to take a sucker punch to the old ticker every now and then. You know, I might as well, because it is clear that there are some things that I will never learn, or perhaps am unwilling to learn.
You sit
You sit and watch television for fifteen hours a day, sometimes longer.
You sit whilst you are driving for ten hours to get to your fishing spots.
You sit for endless, countless hours, chatting and drinking with your buddies.
However, you will not take a small trip of eight hours with me, the trip that I offered to share with you and for which I would be paying all of the expenses, because sitting in a luxury coach, where the seats are exactly like the best of the best home recliner chairs, and where you can get up and walk around whenever you please, would be too uncomfortable for your hip.
You know, your hip that you say has to be replaced, but you never will do it because you get to play the hip card to prevent me from having my knee replaced and we just cannot do that because it costs too much and you need to have your hip fixed first and my doctors are just lying to me and trying to make money off of us anyway and it is fine for me to have to walk with two canes or not walk at all some days.
That hip.
Shock
Uneasy amusement
Pain
Shame. Shame for being so being so unlovable that you would not let me do even this small thing for you.
The tears come later, followed by wondering why I care so much.
You sit in judgment of me, but I guess that is another story.
Can you understand how brave I had to be to ask if you wanted to join me on that stupid trip?
You sit whilst you are driving for ten hours to get to your fishing spots.
You sit for endless, countless hours, chatting and drinking with your buddies.
However, you will not take a small trip of eight hours with me, the trip that I offered to share with you and for which I would be paying all of the expenses, because sitting in a luxury coach, where the seats are exactly like the best of the best home recliner chairs, and where you can get up and walk around whenever you please, would be too uncomfortable for your hip.
You know, your hip that you say has to be replaced, but you never will do it because you get to play the hip card to prevent me from having my knee replaced and we just cannot do that because it costs too much and you need to have your hip fixed first and my doctors are just lying to me and trying to make money off of us anyway and it is fine for me to have to walk with two canes or not walk at all some days.
That hip.
Shock
Uneasy amusement
Pain
Shame. Shame for being so being so unlovable that you would not let me do even this small thing for you.
The tears come later, followed by wondering why I care so much.
You sit in judgment of me, but I guess that is another story.
Can you understand how brave I had to be to ask if you wanted to join me on that stupid trip?
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Sunday
I wrote a really great article today, if I do say so myself. And, yes, I do say so. Great article, Juds. I think that the article I wrote for the newspaper was published last week, but I do not read the paper, so I am not sure. They said they were printing it and I guess that they did. Do not know, though. Did not see it.
So, anyway, I keep having these dreams, as in bad dreams. Every morning when I wake up I remember several of them. They are icky and I hate them. I mean, I really do hate having these dreams. I cannot think of anything else or anyone that I actually hate, but these dreams necessitate the creation of an I hate this crap list. At the top of that list are the dreams that are waking me up every few hours most nights. I hate those dreams the most. I have been waking up sweating, panting, struggling and crying and yelling.
Four times I have woken believing that I was in a real-life situation and it took me whole minutes to come to my senses and begin to calm. After the first couple of weeks of this I started telling myself, before sleep, that
there would not be any bad dreams. No bad dreams. When that did not work, I started saying that if there were going to be bad dreams that I would not remember them. That has worked better. Sometimes.
I know about dreams and their patterns. I do dream work, for chrissakes. I know how to modify or make these stop for a while, at least. So, the fact that nothing I do is helping is informative to the process. It is. This is another thing I 'get'. The problem is, of course, that I cannot do anything about the cause of the dreams. I cannot do anything about the day stuff.
I had a year or two or seven or so where I was waking myself with crying almost all the time. I did have any recall about the dreams when I awoke and I do not have any now, but I remember how I felt every time it happened.
Well, then, I guess that I am hoping that the dreams will simply go away on vacation when I am on vacation. They cannot come with me and have to find their own holiday site. Yeah, even I know that will not work. But, it is a nice dream, anyway.
So far the dreams are the only thing on the list and I am hoping that having this list will not make it easier to hate anything or anyone. I am hoping, anyway.
Plus, the lack of sleep is messing with my appetite. Either I cannot eat for days or I cannot cram enough food down my gullet during my waking hours. Lordy.
Then, a little while ago I was helping someone find a particular on-line application site, jobs you know, and came across the following paragraph on the site's introduction page.
So, anyway, I keep having these dreams, as in bad dreams. Every morning when I wake up I remember several of them. They are icky and I hate them. I mean, I really do hate having these dreams. I cannot think of anything else or anyone that I actually hate, but these dreams necessitate the creation of an I hate this crap list. At the top of that list are the dreams that are waking me up every few hours most nights. I hate those dreams the most. I have been waking up sweating, panting, struggling and crying and yelling.
Four times I have woken believing that I was in a real-life situation and it took me whole minutes to come to my senses and begin to calm. After the first couple of weeks of this I started telling myself, before sleep, that
there would not be any bad dreams. No bad dreams. When that did not work, I started saying that if there were going to be bad dreams that I would not remember them. That has worked better. Sometimes.
I know about dreams and their patterns. I do dream work, for chrissakes. I know how to modify or make these stop for a while, at least. So, the fact that nothing I do is helping is informative to the process. It is. This is another thing I 'get'. The problem is, of course, that I cannot do anything about the cause of the dreams. I cannot do anything about the day stuff.
I had a year or two or seven or so where I was waking myself with crying almost all the time. I did have any recall about the dreams when I awoke and I do not have any now, but I remember how I felt every time it happened.
Well, then, I guess that I am hoping that the dreams will simply go away on vacation when I am on vacation. They cannot come with me and have to find their own holiday site. Yeah, even I know that will not work. But, it is a nice dream, anyway.
So far the dreams are the only thing on the list and I am hoping that having this list will not make it easier to hate anything or anyone. I am hoping, anyway.
Plus, the lack of sleep is messing with my appetite. Either I cannot eat for days or I cannot cram enough food down my gullet during my waking hours. Lordy.
Then, a little while ago I was helping someone find a particular on-line application site, jobs you know, and came across the following paragraph on the site's introduction page.
| We believe that every person has the right to be treated with respect and dignity regardless of race, religion, color, creed, national origin, age, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, disability, veteran or military status, marital status, or citizenship status, and other categories protected by applicable federal state and local laws. It is just a shame that a company has to actually go and have someone write that to put on their site. It should be a given, one of those unspoken but perfectly understood things that are part of a life or a business or on-line job application. You know, I get it. I worked in business for over, gosh, forty years and I understand how things go. I have known people who are serious and intentional violators of what is upheld in that statement. I know that it is a necessary part of doing business now. It is just that I kind of wish that I lived in a world where not doing those things would never even occur to anyone. You know? |
Thursday, August 19, 2010
If you are paying attention to your life, there is never a dull moment
Oh, sure, you can have periods of relative calm, but even that is never dull. Not if you are paying attention.
So, anyway, there I am, finalizing the trip to the Grand Canyon stuff and fixing one last thing...oh, god, I hope so...on the itinerary and I find out that the train people have failed to send my packet, whatever the hell that is, but it must be my actual tickets and stuff, although the person to whom I spoke and who mentioned it to me was not entirely certain exactly what the packet contained. But, really, who cares.
But, the interesting part, the not dull part, is that someone who is not me is interested in my trip. As in actually expressing some interest. Also, hinting that he would be interested in something like what I have planned.
No. I am not extending an invitation. I am not. I never will. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse. That means that I am not going to do it. However, if I am asked, nicely, I will permit him to accompany me on the trip. With a few conditions. Of course.
Now, keep in mind that no request has come, but it might and a girl just has to be prepared. I must admit that it was no great hardship to think of what my requirements for joint custody of this journey might be. There are only three.
I will not share a bedroom, not on the train and not on the ground, not in a box, not with a fox, not on a boat, not with a goat, not, ummm, well you get the idea. There are too many horrible rules when that is done and this is my trip, my first vacation in a thousand years and I will have fun and not have to risk being yelled at when I inadvertently violate one of the rules, most of which I will never learn about until they are actually broken. I know what some of them are likely to be from previous trips out of town, the most recently being two consecutive weekends of weddings, in two different states, of nieces that are from his side of the family, even though I am closer to these young women and their (now) husbands. I am not exaggerating about this or making too big a deal about the sleeping arrangements, because there was another out of state wedding where I had to leave the room late at night and go sit in the lobby until the concierge took mercy on me and gave me blankets and a place to rest in a meeting room, because I was not sleeping "properly." Whatever the hell that means. I swear.
The rules are horrible, just in case I forgot to mention that. So, separate bedrooms. What else? Oh, yeah, I will not pay the way for someone who is not me. No one pays for me, so I think that keeping that equitable is a decent idea.
Hmmmm, I guess the next thing is that I will not change any of the touring or not-touring arrangements that I have already made. Five years ago we were out West for a wedding (seems to be a pattern here) and we, as in me and someone who is not me, had made plans for a full-day side trip while we were there. It was supposed to be a coach tour to the Grand Canyon. Oh, god, can you even believe that? I had totally forgotten about that until just this moment. Crap, I told you that there are no dull moments here. Lordy.
So, anyway, we were supposed to take this side trip on the last day that were were out West and when it came time to go downstairs and climb on the coach for the trek out there to that big, old hole in the ground, I was informed that we were not going. Furthermore, when I said that was fine, that I would go by myself, I was told that I could not, and could not because I was not the person with the money.
And, that part was true, because I was told before we left to not bring any cash with me and, well, I did that, I did not bring any money. And, it is just the same thing over and over again and I am stuck trying to make everything nice and I just totally suck at it. Whenever someone who is not me says the 'word' I listen and I obey and this is simply not working for me any longer. Nothing is going to change here and it was so cool when I was like growing as a person, and getting close to finding another place to live and, gosh, even though my circumstances were to be greatly reduced, I was getting so close to actually doing something proactive and then all that illness stuff started to manifest and I agreed to stay here and be helpful and finally made this decision to take this trip to a place that I have been wanting to visit for nearly twenty years or some damn time and, I swear, I am totally willing to share the experience with someone who is not me, but I will be damned it I cave and become all obedient again. I swear.
But, that is what I do...I am obedient that way, and I never seem to learn from previous experience. Well, at least until now. Now I know what I know about how I want to live my life, or at least how I think that I want to live my life. At least I think I do. I am pretty sure. And, I do not want to live like that anymore.
Alrighty, this part is going to sound stupid, at least much more stupid that all that other stuff. So, anyway, since my job-place will be closed for most of September and into the middle of October, I have decided to take advantage of some of those casino-subsidized trips that I mentioned sometime earlier this year. They are so cool. You get to travel on nice motor coaches and have wine and snacks and play games until you get to the casinos. You get free tokens to play gambling games and practically all of your meals are included and they offer small excursions to nearby attractions so that you do not get burned out on gambling and they are really cool and, more importantly, really inexpensive.
So, then, I will be gallery sitting from near to the end of this month until a couple of days before I leave on my big trip. Then I am home for ten days to rest up from all the big fun and then I am taking two single-day-trips to see a play and to go to a agrarian festival. Then I am home for one day and then go on a four-day trip to a casino up north of here. And, this is where the stupid part comes in. If someone who is not me gets all pissy and does not invite himself on the big trip (remember, I am completely cool with him doing that), I am going to invite him on the four-day-up-north-casino trip.
I will even pay his way because that is how inexpensive and cheap that trip is. He can gamble, see the lounge shows, gorge himself at the buffets and drink all he wants and I will wander around all the pretty and rustic places, go to the park, visit their library and animal shelter, take this really cool boat trip to an island for a day, and hang out in my room the rest of the time. Two of the previous three rules apply here. Separate bedrooms and no messing with my touristy plans. It will be wonderful because it will actually get him out of the house and someplace interesting and it will be inexpensive and we will rarely have to depend on each other for entertainment. If I am lucky, our only contact will be a dinner or two and then the coach ride home.
September is going to totally rock for me and perhaps, maybe a little bit, for someone who is not me.
I am paying attention, strict attention and even if a dull moment pops in, I can handle it.
So, anyway, there I am, finalizing the trip to the Grand Canyon stuff and fixing one last thing...oh, god, I hope so...on the itinerary and I find out that the train people have failed to send my packet, whatever the hell that is, but it must be my actual tickets and stuff, although the person to whom I spoke and who mentioned it to me was not entirely certain exactly what the packet contained. But, really, who cares.
But, the interesting part, the not dull part, is that someone who is not me is interested in my trip. As in actually expressing some interest. Also, hinting that he would be interested in something like what I have planned.
No. I am not extending an invitation. I am not. I never will. I refuse, I refuse, I refuse. That means that I am not going to do it. However, if I am asked, nicely, I will permit him to accompany me on the trip. With a few conditions. Of course.
Now, keep in mind that no request has come, but it might and a girl just has to be prepared. I must admit that it was no great hardship to think of what my requirements for joint custody of this journey might be. There are only three.
I will not share a bedroom, not on the train and not on the ground, not in a box, not with a fox, not on a boat, not with a goat, not, ummm, well you get the idea. There are too many horrible rules when that is done and this is my trip, my first vacation in a thousand years and I will have fun and not have to risk being yelled at when I inadvertently violate one of the rules, most of which I will never learn about until they are actually broken. I know what some of them are likely to be from previous trips out of town, the most recently being two consecutive weekends of weddings, in two different states, of nieces that are from his side of the family, even though I am closer to these young women and their (now) husbands. I am not exaggerating about this or making too big a deal about the sleeping arrangements, because there was another out of state wedding where I had to leave the room late at night and go sit in the lobby until the concierge took mercy on me and gave me blankets and a place to rest in a meeting room, because I was not sleeping "properly." Whatever the hell that means. I swear.
The rules are horrible, just in case I forgot to mention that. So, separate bedrooms. What else? Oh, yeah, I will not pay the way for someone who is not me. No one pays for me, so I think that keeping that equitable is a decent idea.
Hmmmm, I guess the next thing is that I will not change any of the touring or not-touring arrangements that I have already made. Five years ago we were out West for a wedding (seems to be a pattern here) and we, as in me and someone who is not me, had made plans for a full-day side trip while we were there. It was supposed to be a coach tour to the Grand Canyon. Oh, god, can you even believe that? I had totally forgotten about that until just this moment. Crap, I told you that there are no dull moments here. Lordy.
So, anyway, we were supposed to take this side trip on the last day that were were out West and when it came time to go downstairs and climb on the coach for the trek out there to that big, old hole in the ground, I was informed that we were not going. Furthermore, when I said that was fine, that I would go by myself, I was told that I could not, and could not because I was not the person with the money.
And, that part was true, because I was told before we left to not bring any cash with me and, well, I did that, I did not bring any money. And, it is just the same thing over and over again and I am stuck trying to make everything nice and I just totally suck at it. Whenever someone who is not me says the 'word' I listen and I obey and this is simply not working for me any longer. Nothing is going to change here and it was so cool when I was like growing as a person, and getting close to finding another place to live and, gosh, even though my circumstances were to be greatly reduced, I was getting so close to actually doing something proactive and then all that illness stuff started to manifest and I agreed to stay here and be helpful and finally made this decision to take this trip to a place that I have been wanting to visit for nearly twenty years or some damn time and, I swear, I am totally willing to share the experience with someone who is not me, but I will be damned it I cave and become all obedient again. I swear.
But, that is what I do...I am obedient that way, and I never seem to learn from previous experience. Well, at least until now. Now I know what I know about how I want to live my life, or at least how I think that I want to live my life. At least I think I do. I am pretty sure. And, I do not want to live like that anymore.
Alrighty, this part is going to sound stupid, at least much more stupid that all that other stuff. So, anyway, since my job-place will be closed for most of September and into the middle of October, I have decided to take advantage of some of those casino-subsidized trips that I mentioned sometime earlier this year. They are so cool. You get to travel on nice motor coaches and have wine and snacks and play games until you get to the casinos. You get free tokens to play gambling games and practically all of your meals are included and they offer small excursions to nearby attractions so that you do not get burned out on gambling and they are really cool and, more importantly, really inexpensive.
So, then, I will be gallery sitting from near to the end of this month until a couple of days before I leave on my big trip. Then I am home for ten days to rest up from all the big fun and then I am taking two single-day-trips to see a play and to go to a agrarian festival. Then I am home for one day and then go on a four-day trip to a casino up north of here. And, this is where the stupid part comes in. If someone who is not me gets all pissy and does not invite himself on the big trip (remember, I am completely cool with him doing that), I am going to invite him on the four-day-up-north-casino trip.
I will even pay his way because that is how inexpensive and cheap that trip is. He can gamble, see the lounge shows, gorge himself at the buffets and drink all he wants and I will wander around all the pretty and rustic places, go to the park, visit their library and animal shelter, take this really cool boat trip to an island for a day, and hang out in my room the rest of the time. Two of the previous three rules apply here. Separate bedrooms and no messing with my touristy plans. It will be wonderful because it will actually get him out of the house and someplace interesting and it will be inexpensive and we will rarely have to depend on each other for entertainment. If I am lucky, our only contact will be a dinner or two and then the coach ride home.
September is going to totally rock for me and perhaps, maybe a little bit, for someone who is not me.
I am paying attention, strict attention and even if a dull moment pops in, I can handle it.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
It is not yet official,
but hell might have frozen over. It is 75 degrees/F outside and 85 degrees/F inside and, guess what is on?
Give up? It is the fucking furnace. I got home an hour and a half ago and made my tuna salad for tomorrow's work lunch, and made a lovely parting gift for my friend John. His last day at work is Friday and I made dark chocolate almond bark with rainbow sprinkles.
I just went out to the kitchen to break it into small pieces and put them in the gift container and the chocolate is just as soft as when I spread the mess out onto parchment paper. So, I check the indoor/outdoor thermometer and see just how hot it is in here. So, next, I go to get a cookie sheet so that I can put the damn thing into the refrigerator and my coconut oil is liquid, for chrissakes. Liquid! Yeah, no harm done, but the damn stuff is liquid!!!!!!!!!!!!!! O.K., it is only half liquid, but still. Cripes.
So, anyway, I go to someone who is not me and I say, "Hey, babe." Well, not really 'babe' but something else that is not so nice, but I do not say it out loud...I am thinking all sorts of names in my head, and since only I can hear it, it does not count.
But, I do say "Ummmm, is there any chance that we can turn off the furnace?"
"No."
"Ummmm, O.K., then can we turn it down a bit?"
"No. Don't you ever pay attention? It gets colder at night. mumble-mumble-mumble"
"Oh, O.K., thanks anyway."
And, I am thinking "How the heck is anyone supposed to sleep tonight?" Well, at least anyone who has not had a few beers, that is, and that person who did not have beer, well, that would be me, by the way, as if, at this point any of it really matters anyway. I am also thinking that I worked on his computer problems this morning. I mean, even warring nations usually have some kind of reciprocity agreements. Anyway, I do not have a printer for this machine, so whilst I was down there I thought it would be a good time to type out an easy-to-read version of the itinerary of my trip next month. I always have to do these detailed things whenever I am going to be away for more than overnight or someone who is not me will freak.
So, after fixing the computer, I ask if it would be all right to do that itinerary for him right then and he says that I can.
It took me approximately 45 minutes to call and do a final confirmation for the hotel reservations and then type everything up and he must have put his telephone on 'speaker' function (we have dial-up and he uses that line for his computer) at least every five minutes. After the second time, I asked if he wanted me to do this thing later and he said "no." I kept asking if he needed to make a telephone call and the answer was the same. Every four or five minutes, squeak-squawk-beep-beep-beep-beep-snargle-squawk-trill-trill-beep-beep-beep.
One of us is nuts. Frankly, I am pretty certain that it must be me. Maybe, instead of this trip, I should take that money and turn myself in for some intensive and exotic treatments. Does anyone still do electro-shock treatments? Are the even called that anymore? I just Googled it. It is called electroconvulsive therapy. Lovely. I am already feeling so much better.
Sign me up.
Pronto.
Give up? It is the fucking furnace. I got home an hour and a half ago and made my tuna salad for tomorrow's work lunch, and made a lovely parting gift for my friend John. His last day at work is Friday and I made dark chocolate almond bark with rainbow sprinkles.
I just went out to the kitchen to break it into small pieces and put them in the gift container and the chocolate is just as soft as when I spread the mess out onto parchment paper. So, I check the indoor/outdoor thermometer and see just how hot it is in here. So, next, I go to get a cookie sheet so that I can put the damn thing into the refrigerator and my coconut oil is liquid, for chrissakes. Liquid! Yeah, no harm done, but the damn stuff is liquid!!!!!!!!!!!!!! O.K., it is only half liquid, but still. Cripes.
So, anyway, I go to someone who is not me and I say, "Hey, babe." Well, not really 'babe' but something else that is not so nice, but I do not say it out loud...I am thinking all sorts of names in my head, and since only I can hear it, it does not count.
But, I do say "Ummmm, is there any chance that we can turn off the furnace?"
"No."
"Ummmm, O.K., then can we turn it down a bit?"
"No. Don't you ever pay attention? It gets colder at night. mumble-mumble-mumble"
"Oh, O.K., thanks anyway."
And, I am thinking "How the heck is anyone supposed to sleep tonight?" Well, at least anyone who has not had a few beers, that is, and that person who did not have beer, well, that would be me, by the way, as if, at this point any of it really matters anyway. I am also thinking that I worked on his computer problems this morning. I mean, even warring nations usually have some kind of reciprocity agreements. Anyway, I do not have a printer for this machine, so whilst I was down there I thought it would be a good time to type out an easy-to-read version of the itinerary of my trip next month. I always have to do these detailed things whenever I am going to be away for more than overnight or someone who is not me will freak.
So, after fixing the computer, I ask if it would be all right to do that itinerary for him right then and he says that I can.
It took me approximately 45 minutes to call and do a final confirmation for the hotel reservations and then type everything up and he must have put his telephone on 'speaker' function (we have dial-up and he uses that line for his computer) at least every five minutes. After the second time, I asked if he wanted me to do this thing later and he said "no." I kept asking if he needed to make a telephone call and the answer was the same. Every four or five minutes, squeak-squawk-beep-beep-beep-beep-snargle-squawk-trill-trill-beep-beep-beep.
One of us is nuts. Frankly, I am pretty certain that it must be me. Maybe, instead of this trip, I should take that money and turn myself in for some intensive and exotic treatments. Does anyone still do electro-shock treatments? Are the even called that anymore? I just Googled it. It is called electroconvulsive therapy. Lovely. I am already feeling so much better.
Sign me up.
Pronto.
Back to busy
I like that, being busy. Keeps the old mind from thinking too much. This afternoon and early evening is devoted to one of the women for whom I provide social contact. After all this time they are true friends, but the focus on what we do together is that we do what they want and for how long they want to do it. I am pretty much the friend that chauffeurs them around and sometimes treats them to a meal or something when I have a little extra money.
I managed to get all of the cleaning and laundry and big grooming stuff out of the way so that I can relax when I get home and, yeah, so that my clothes will be dry by tomorrow. It is cooler here today, in the mid-to-low 70s, so that means that the furnace is running, you know, just in case hell decides to freeze over. Lordy.
And, speaking of someone who is not me, the chronic illness that I suspect is suspiciously more evident every single day. It is worrisome. Well, kind of scary, too, but I try not to dwell on that. If I do, the dwelling, then I will have to actually do something about this whole mess. I have researched and read everything I can find, or at least the stuff that I feel like finding, and the prognosis is not good. I am not talking about the medical issues, although they are pretty crappy too, but about what is going to have to be done around this issue.
I can procrastinate with the best of them, but I am heading for my personal best in that department. I will be living in a nearby town at the end of this month and into September and that will help, especially since I am leaving for the train trip a few days after that. I am thinking about taking another, shorter trip at the end of the month, just for four days, which would take me into October. So, I have decided that unless something dramatic happens, I am going to wait until then to start back again thinking about all of this stuff.
I know. I am just a selfish procrastinator. Fine.
I managed to get all of the cleaning and laundry and big grooming stuff out of the way so that I can relax when I get home and, yeah, so that my clothes will be dry by tomorrow. It is cooler here today, in the mid-to-low 70s, so that means that the furnace is running, you know, just in case hell decides to freeze over. Lordy.
And, speaking of someone who is not me, the chronic illness that I suspect is suspiciously more evident every single day. It is worrisome. Well, kind of scary, too, but I try not to dwell on that. If I do, the dwelling, then I will have to actually do something about this whole mess. I have researched and read everything I can find, or at least the stuff that I feel like finding, and the prognosis is not good. I am not talking about the medical issues, although they are pretty crappy too, but about what is going to have to be done around this issue.
I can procrastinate with the best of them, but I am heading for my personal best in that department. I will be living in a nearby town at the end of this month and into September and that will help, especially since I am leaving for the train trip a few days after that. I am thinking about taking another, shorter trip at the end of the month, just for four days, which would take me into October. So, I have decided that unless something dramatic happens, I am going to wait until then to start back again thinking about all of this stuff.
I know. I am just a selfish procrastinator. Fine.
Sunday, August 15, 2010
Tired
Why am I so tired all of the time? If I am not taking a nap, I am thinking about taking a nap. I think that if I could lose a ton of weight that I would have more energy. But, then I think about those studies that indicate that getting more sleep helps you to lose weight. Probably because you are not up and about and capable of being in the kitchen and cooking or re-heating something, although there must be some component about sleep that helps you moderate appetite, or some damn thing. It might be helpful to actually read more than the first few sentences of those things, but I am too tired to concentrate.
I thought that having the electric pressure cooker would mean that I could incorporate more animal protein into my eating habits, you know, as in that I could afford meat, being able to buy the cheaper and less tender cuts. But, it turns out that I like vegetables more, especially white and sweet potatoes. Kale and other greens are still my favorites, but they are so wonderful with starches. Lordy, more choices.
So, yesterday, there I am, in the kitchen, doing the prep work for another batch of soup and layering in the onion, celery, mushrooms, carrots, sweet potato, tomatoes, and then I am at, or close to, the limit for how much the container will hold and there still is not any meat in there.
Sure, I could just pull out some of the vegetables and use them the next time, but I do not. I cram in a chicken breast or two, or some organ meat and end up with a lovely, mostly vegetable, soup, once again. Most of the time I just toss the meat into the freezer, which seems to be some kind of alternate universe where animal parts go in and never come back out again. Having given their lives to feed someone and keep the wheels of commerce moving, they just languish there, in suspended animation. That damn choices thing.
I have to eat more protein, but adding pieces of dead creatures is just not working for me. Adding/combining vegetable protein is not working either, still too much of a carbohydrate load. My mobility issues and the diabetes mean that I must have fewer carbohydrates. I cannot lose weight without making these changes. If I do not, I will continue to be fat and will be stuck with taking all of these darn naps. It is so darn circular and I am spiraling in completely the wrong direction. Maybe a little sleep will clear my head.
I thought that having the electric pressure cooker would mean that I could incorporate more animal protein into my eating habits, you know, as in that I could afford meat, being able to buy the cheaper and less tender cuts. But, it turns out that I like vegetables more, especially white and sweet potatoes. Kale and other greens are still my favorites, but they are so wonderful with starches. Lordy, more choices.
So, yesterday, there I am, in the kitchen, doing the prep work for another batch of soup and layering in the onion, celery, mushrooms, carrots, sweet potato, tomatoes, and then I am at, or close to, the limit for how much the container will hold and there still is not any meat in there.
Sure, I could just pull out some of the vegetables and use them the next time, but I do not. I cram in a chicken breast or two, or some organ meat and end up with a lovely, mostly vegetable, soup, once again. Most of the time I just toss the meat into the freezer, which seems to be some kind of alternate universe where animal parts go in and never come back out again. Having given their lives to feed someone and keep the wheels of commerce moving, they just languish there, in suspended animation. That damn choices thing.
I have to eat more protein, but adding pieces of dead creatures is just not working for me. Adding/combining vegetable protein is not working either, still too much of a carbohydrate load. My mobility issues and the diabetes mean that I must have fewer carbohydrates. I cannot lose weight without making these changes. If I do not, I will continue to be fat and will be stuck with taking all of these darn naps. It is so darn circular and I am spiraling in completely the wrong direction. Maybe a little sleep will clear my head.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
I swear
As hard as I try, I am unable to fit in anywhere.
I try. I really do.
I am not successful as a loner, either.
Guess I need to try another planet. Or time-travel. Or something.
I try. I really do.
I am not successful as a loner, either.
Guess I need to try another planet. Or time-travel. Or something.
Friday, August 6, 2010
Fidelity
I just have to wonder if anyone still believes in fidelity. You know, as in staying faithful to your partner. There has to be a lot of people who do that, but they are scarce in my life lately.
Apparently, a promise does not mean that you actually do what it is that you promise to do, but do it only as long as it pleases you to do so, or until it becomes an inconvenience.
Apparently, it is fine to avoid working on your problems as a couple and just go off and mood alter by noodling around with someone who is not your partner.
Apparently, my moral code, one that defines relationships as those things that people enter and remain true to one another is an outdated, perhaps even ancient, notion.
Apparently, I am just a big, fat, out-of-touch-with-reality, fool.
Lordy.
Apparently, a promise does not mean that you actually do what it is that you promise to do, but do it only as long as it pleases you to do so, or until it becomes an inconvenience.
Apparently, it is fine to avoid working on your problems as a couple and just go off and mood alter by noodling around with someone who is not your partner.
Apparently, my moral code, one that defines relationships as those things that people enter and remain true to one another is an outdated, perhaps even ancient, notion.
Apparently, I am just a big, fat, out-of-touch-with-reality, fool.
Lordy.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Frugality
I am as frugal as it is possible for me to be. That does not mean that everything that I do in my life is frugal, only that I do the best that I can in whatever circumstance the moment finds me.
But, I really try to never waste a thing. Not a dollar, not food, not anything. I am not always as successful as I would like, but, hey, I am giving it my best, at least most of the time. Really.
I can toss off bits of my heart from time to time, but if you are going to live in the world as fully as possible, then that is the cost of doing business. Now that I am thinking about it, being generous is an essential part of being a truly frugal person. I am experiencing a rough time and it seems that my ability to be the person that I believe myself to be is one is one struggle, one difficult situation, one choice after another. I am that. I am generous. Really.
The thing is that I know how privileged I am and that my problems are disgustingly minor. The other thing is that I see, at least on the days when I am in town, that the world is full of wonderful people with terrible worries. The next thing is that I get that. The other, other thing is that even privileged slackers like me should not be denied a little happiness once in a while. Yeah. Me. Selfish. Bitch. At least that is what if feel like today. Why am I making the wrong choices all the damn time?
This is not being helped, all this angst, by recovering from another of my frugal ways, which is not wasting food. Not too long ago I was chastised, and not in a good way, about tossing out food that might be questionable in the whole safe to eat realm. I stand by my belief that if you have any doubt about food being safe to eat that you just toss it. No second thoughts, no hesitation, no regrets.
For some reason, probably stupid finances again, but last week I ate the last of some soup that I had made five days prior. Just two days longer than I would have normally tossed the remains into the garbage. In my defense, I was being frugal and it was good soup. It is now ten days later and I am still recovering from that food poisoning.
Two housewifely accidents. First the foot ( healing nicely, by the way), then the soup. This keeping house stuff is too dangerous.
Clearly, this whole frugality thing is becoming an obsession and like all obsessions is taking over. So not a good thing. It makes me think of the Frugal Gourmet guy, I think that Graham Kerr was his name, although I am not certain about the spelling. I remember hearing him on his television program talk about the/his true meaning of frugality that is was not about being cheap, or maybe even thrifty, but about using what you have to it's best advantage.
I try to do that. Really.
But, I really try to never waste a thing. Not a dollar, not food, not anything. I am not always as successful as I would like, but, hey, I am giving it my best, at least most of the time. Really.
I can toss off bits of my heart from time to time, but if you are going to live in the world as fully as possible, then that is the cost of doing business. Now that I am thinking about it, being generous is an essential part of being a truly frugal person. I am experiencing a rough time and it seems that my ability to be the person that I believe myself to be is one is one struggle, one difficult situation, one choice after another. I am that. I am generous. Really.
The thing is that I know how privileged I am and that my problems are disgustingly minor. The other thing is that I see, at least on the days when I am in town, that the world is full of wonderful people with terrible worries. The next thing is that I get that. The other, other thing is that even privileged slackers like me should not be denied a little happiness once in a while. Yeah. Me. Selfish. Bitch. At least that is what if feel like today. Why am I making the wrong choices all the damn time?
This is not being helped, all this angst, by recovering from another of my frugal ways, which is not wasting food. Not too long ago I was chastised, and not in a good way, about tossing out food that might be questionable in the whole safe to eat realm. I stand by my belief that if you have any doubt about food being safe to eat that you just toss it. No second thoughts, no hesitation, no regrets.
For some reason, probably stupid finances again, but last week I ate the last of some soup that I had made five days prior. Just two days longer than I would have normally tossed the remains into the garbage. In my defense, I was being frugal and it was good soup. It is now ten days later and I am still recovering from that food poisoning.
Two housewifely accidents. First the foot ( healing nicely, by the way), then the soup. This keeping house stuff is too dangerous.
Clearly, this whole frugality thing is becoming an obsession and like all obsessions is taking over. So not a good thing. It makes me think of the Frugal Gourmet guy, I think that Graham Kerr was his name, although I am not certain about the spelling. I remember hearing him on his television program talk about the/his true meaning of frugality that is was not about being cheap, or maybe even thrifty, but about using what you have to it's best advantage.
I try to do that. Really.
Sunday, August 1, 2010
What is it about
the mistakes or foolishness of some people that brings out the worst in us? It certainly can be interesting, or even amusing, when we read or hear about some dumb thing that someone did or failed to do, but then we judge them and extrapolate their behavior into a condemnation of their lifestyle.
Frankly, I find such stories to be helpful to me. They remind me of things and issues that may hold some significance or experience for me. They can alert me to the problems or dangers associated with some particular behavior or circumstance(s). You know, even when the situation is beyond my experience, like the story I read this evening about a very sad and preventable family dynamic, one that might have been prevented if someone, oh, even like some nosy neighbor or friend, I learned from that. I learn to be more observant, more invested in being a support to the people around me, even strangers, and more willing to take action and just dive in and help someone. Even when it is not convenient. Even when it is difficult or icky or messy or just plain disgusting, maybe even a little dangerous. I learn how to be more involved.
These cautionary tales, our modern version of parables, are good for us. They remind and teach us. They reinforce what we already know. But, I think that they give us the opportunity to put ourselves in the place, the mindset and circumstances of another person so that we can learn about ourselves and how we move through the world.
I guess that is why I find it so distressing when I read something and then the fear & hate & prejudice & holier-than-thou, oh-so-virtuous mongers swoop in and use it as an indictment of people and their choices, the decisions they make about their lives. If you do not think their way, share their beliefs about how to do something, do exactly what they do and be dogmatic about it, then you are one of those, the people who simply do not get whatever it is that they are promoting.
We are all different. We are all someplace on the path of our lives, doing the best we can. Yeah, we make mistakes, we mess up, we do things wrong or the hard way (as in not their way) or the wrong way (as in really, really not their way) and sometimes we fuck up so badly that there might be consequences from which there is no recovery. But, most of the time it is not that bad, but it is almost always bad enough to be on the receiving end of judgment, disdain, condemnation and complete lack of understanding, empathy or support of those FHPHV* mongers.
There is not only one way to life. There just is not. More than anything, I believe in a kind and loving Universe, one that is filled with people who are doing the best that they can with what they know, what they have and what they are simply able and capable of doing, in that particular moment in time and space.
We humans can be so many things. We can be foolish, neglectful, careless, ineffective, wasteful, greedy, coarse and just plain dumb, sometimes all on the same day. Oh, but we are capable of being so much more, kind, loving, supportive, empathetic, helpful, generous and totally and completely understanding of what it might be like to be someone else, particularly someone who just fucked up.
There is not any way of saying this without judgment, but those people who have had the experiences and opportunities to learn and do things in better and more productive and supportive ways, well, it just seems such a waste if in the process of all of that learning and knowing and practicing their cool stuff, that they were not able to hold on to the parts of themselves that could provide help to those who have not been so fortunate. Instead, there is the judgment, the lack of empathy and, as often happens, name-calling.
Just because I am human, just because I mess up and make mistakes and do not do everything exactly like everyone else, I am still someone who deserves to be treated sympathetically, and I do not mean common, base sympathy, but the real deal, the kind that helps me to be a better person whilst elevating the person who is helping me. I deserve that, but more importantly, it is my job, my mission or whatever the hell you want to call it to offer that to everyone, every single person who enters my sphere of influence.
I do not ever want anyone to wonder about me and how I lost my understanding or my compassion or my benevolence.
All of this came up again, not only because of yesterday and today, but because one of my friends read what I have been venting about the train trip and that whole mess with the agency and the service program and all that crap. She called and told me that I am experiencing these things because I am too nice of a person. Aside from being total crap, it simply is not true. I am not too nice of a person. I am exactly as nice as I should be, as nice as everyone should be.
Everyone should be nice. They should be kind and understanding. They should speak in a nice voice, even when disagreeing with someone else. There should not be, in ordinary, daily contact and interaction with other people, scolding or yelling, not any shouting or name-calling, no angry faces or snarling or snarkiness. There should not be any pushing or shoving, not even metaphorically.
I am not saying that everyone has to agree with everyone else, only that we owe it to ourselves to stop insisting that every damn thing be done according to our values, practices and beliefs. And, that is why helping the agency with this project, even though they tried to take advantage of me, is something that I can do, hell, it is essential that I do it. It is how I get to manifest what I am made of. I am willing to play nice with them.
As for the train people, even though one of the people with whom I spoke that afternoon called me a name, I felt under no obligation to raise my voice, fuss with her or become irritated, much less escalate my behavior to her level. O.K., I will grant that I did not particularly stand up for myself, and I have to do some serious work in that area, but I am satisfied that I behaved properly and I mostly got what was fair, so, all in all, it was not totally horrible and I get to feel satisfied that I was nice. Just nice. Sometimes, just being nice, especially when it is difficult, is enough.
I am not asking for the moon, the stars and the sky. I am not looking for some utopian dreamland, where all the animals come to eat snacks from my palm or where the unicorns poop rainbows, or even where everyone lives in sweet harmony once in a while. Even I get that that is not ever going to happen. I am not expecting that I will be in harmony with everyone around me. Heck, given that we are all humans, the expectation is that there will more than enough conflict to go around.
Still, understanding how other people live or do things or whatever, releasing the need to always have things your way, and just being nice enough is enough.
Frankly, I find such stories to be helpful to me. They remind me of things and issues that may hold some significance or experience for me. They can alert me to the problems or dangers associated with some particular behavior or circumstance(s). You know, even when the situation is beyond my experience, like the story I read this evening about a very sad and preventable family dynamic, one that might have been prevented if someone, oh, even like some nosy neighbor or friend, I learned from that. I learn to be more observant, more invested in being a support to the people around me, even strangers, and more willing to take action and just dive in and help someone. Even when it is not convenient. Even when it is difficult or icky or messy or just plain disgusting, maybe even a little dangerous. I learn how to be more involved.
These cautionary tales, our modern version of parables, are good for us. They remind and teach us. They reinforce what we already know. But, I think that they give us the opportunity to put ourselves in the place, the mindset and circumstances of another person so that we can learn about ourselves and how we move through the world.
I guess that is why I find it so distressing when I read something and then the fear & hate & prejudice & holier-than-thou, oh-so-virtuous mongers swoop in and use it as an indictment of people and their choices, the decisions they make about their lives. If you do not think their way, share their beliefs about how to do something, do exactly what they do and be dogmatic about it, then you are one of those, the people who simply do not get whatever it is that they are promoting.
We are all different. We are all someplace on the path of our lives, doing the best we can. Yeah, we make mistakes, we mess up, we do things wrong or the hard way (as in not their way) or the wrong way (as in really, really not their way) and sometimes we fuck up so badly that there might be consequences from which there is no recovery. But, most of the time it is not that bad, but it is almost always bad enough to be on the receiving end of judgment, disdain, condemnation and complete lack of understanding, empathy or support of those FHPHV* mongers.
There is not only one way to life. There just is not. More than anything, I believe in a kind and loving Universe, one that is filled with people who are doing the best that they can with what they know, what they have and what they are simply able and capable of doing, in that particular moment in time and space.
We humans can be so many things. We can be foolish, neglectful, careless, ineffective, wasteful, greedy, coarse and just plain dumb, sometimes all on the same day. Oh, but we are capable of being so much more, kind, loving, supportive, empathetic, helpful, generous and totally and completely understanding of what it might be like to be someone else, particularly someone who just fucked up.
There is not any way of saying this without judgment, but those people who have had the experiences and opportunities to learn and do things in better and more productive and supportive ways, well, it just seems such a waste if in the process of all of that learning and knowing and practicing their cool stuff, that they were not able to hold on to the parts of themselves that could provide help to those who have not been so fortunate. Instead, there is the judgment, the lack of empathy and, as often happens, name-calling.
Just because I am human, just because I mess up and make mistakes and do not do everything exactly like everyone else, I am still someone who deserves to be treated sympathetically, and I do not mean common, base sympathy, but the real deal, the kind that helps me to be a better person whilst elevating the person who is helping me. I deserve that, but more importantly, it is my job, my mission or whatever the hell you want to call it to offer that to everyone, every single person who enters my sphere of influence.
I do not ever want anyone to wonder about me and how I lost my understanding or my compassion or my benevolence.
All of this came up again, not only because of yesterday and today, but because one of my friends read what I have been venting about the train trip and that whole mess with the agency and the service program and all that crap. She called and told me that I am experiencing these things because I am too nice of a person. Aside from being total crap, it simply is not true. I am not too nice of a person. I am exactly as nice as I should be, as nice as everyone should be.
Everyone should be nice. They should be kind and understanding. They should speak in a nice voice, even when disagreeing with someone else. There should not be, in ordinary, daily contact and interaction with other people, scolding or yelling, not any shouting or name-calling, no angry faces or snarling or snarkiness. There should not be any pushing or shoving, not even metaphorically.
I am not saying that everyone has to agree with everyone else, only that we owe it to ourselves to stop insisting that every damn thing be done according to our values, practices and beliefs. And, that is why helping the agency with this project, even though they tried to take advantage of me, is something that I can do, hell, it is essential that I do it. It is how I get to manifest what I am made of. I am willing to play nice with them.
As for the train people, even though one of the people with whom I spoke that afternoon called me a name, I felt under no obligation to raise my voice, fuss with her or become irritated, much less escalate my behavior to her level. O.K., I will grant that I did not particularly stand up for myself, and I have to do some serious work in that area, but I am satisfied that I behaved properly and I mostly got what was fair, so, all in all, it was not totally horrible and I get to feel satisfied that I was nice. Just nice. Sometimes, just being nice, especially when it is difficult, is enough.
I am not asking for the moon, the stars and the sky. I am not looking for some utopian dreamland, where all the animals come to eat snacks from my palm or where the unicorns poop rainbows, or even where everyone lives in sweet harmony once in a while. Even I get that that is not ever going to happen. I am not expecting that I will be in harmony with everyone around me. Heck, given that we are all humans, the expectation is that there will more than enough conflict to go around.
Still, understanding how other people live or do things or whatever, releasing the need to always have things your way, and just being nice enough is enough.
So, Sunday
Just sitting around, catching up on some web site maintenance and trying to avoid doing anything useful in the house. It is the usual mess here and my slacker ways are eventually going to catch up with me and I will be forced to do something about this place.
I do not want to.
If, I guess I should be saying "when", I begin to really knuckle down and get this under control, a large part of it is going to be all about getting rid of more things, all that crap that no longer serves me. The problem with what is left is that it is all still useful in the work I do, but there is just too much of it. The only solution is to organize it properly and get like-things back together in a single location. I did a big portion of that earlier this year, in that whole, stupid, hundred days thing. But, that was just the beginning, the chipping away at all of the stuff that is here in this physical environment and in my head. Man, what a mess that is. The in-my-head part.
I am, by nature and inclination and philosophy and desire, an orderly and organized person. Even the messy parts of this place are organized. There are no random collections of things anywhere. The boxes and the drawers and closets, even the stacks of boxes in the closets are things that are all of a kind. If I need to find something I know exactly where it is.
Well, expect for glue guns. There is something about the location and organization of glue guns that is beyond my ability to keep them physically and mentally located somewhere. As a result, there are probably at least four or five (See? I am not even certain of how many there are, for chrissakes!) of them around here somewhere...they have to be somewhere...but, I can rarely find more than one and even that finding of a single one can be a problem. Why that is, I have no idea. Same for the glue sticks, but if I find one of the glue guns, there is likely to be a package of sticks with it. This is so irritating that it makes me want to go and find one, right this minute. Oh, O.K., if I take a few deep and cleansing breaths, sit quietly for a moment and close my eyes, that urge will likely pass. O.K., then. Yeah. Whew. Better now.
So, anyway, my intention is, as long as I am caught up on working on that site, I am going to tackle the art fair boxes in the front closet. I am going to organize that stuff to within an inch of art-fair-stuff consciousness. I am too busy this year to do any art fairs or womens' fairs or any of that stuff, so I am going to give all of the last season stuff away.
As difficult as it was to give away the beginnings of the larger giving away of books (still to be completed) process, this art stuff is a killer. I waited for nearly fifty years to do art, to have it be a part of my actual, daily life that divesting myself of the excess is totally breaking my heart and a significant portion of my spirit. Just another thing that I do not want to do. I seem to prefer the burden of having all of this stuff around to getting it the heck out of here and being free of the weight of it all. Plus, there is that whole getting rid of the old to make way for the new. Man.
It is small consolation, although any consolation might be nice, that once I start throwing stuff away, that someone who is not me will once again begin going through the trash bags and pulling stuff out and hiding it in the garage with all of the stuff that someone who is not me pulls from the trash and hides in the garage. So, it really never leaves, it just goes to become mouse, chipmunk, ground squirrel and spider homes and toilets in that place that would be a garage if it was emptied of all of the hidden stuff and could have space for my car.
That sound frustrating, the part about how stuff is hidden there, and it is frustrating, but it is also funny and of some comfort to know that I am not the worst hoarder here, especially when I look at the pile of old, cardboard boxes that someone who is not me will not allow to leave the property. At least I can make pretty and cool and, well, often weird, art. All the boxes could be used to make is, ummmm...well...oh, my god, they could be used to make a fort in the backyard. Now, how cool is that!
Alrighty, enough of trashing someone who is not me. It was fun, I enjoyed it and it is only a matter of time before I do it again, but I do have to get at that closet.
Pull my hair back into a bun, roll up my sleeves, and just get to it.
I wonder if there is time for a nap first.
Laissez-faire. For everyone.
I do not want to.
If, I guess I should be saying "when", I begin to really knuckle down and get this under control, a large part of it is going to be all about getting rid of more things, all that crap that no longer serves me. The problem with what is left is that it is all still useful in the work I do, but there is just too much of it. The only solution is to organize it properly and get like-things back together in a single location. I did a big portion of that earlier this year, in that whole, stupid, hundred days thing. But, that was just the beginning, the chipping away at all of the stuff that is here in this physical environment and in my head. Man, what a mess that is. The in-my-head part.
I am, by nature and inclination and philosophy and desire, an orderly and organized person. Even the messy parts of this place are organized. There are no random collections of things anywhere. The boxes and the drawers and closets, even the stacks of boxes in the closets are things that are all of a kind. If I need to find something I know exactly where it is.
Well, expect for glue guns. There is something about the location and organization of glue guns that is beyond my ability to keep them physically and mentally located somewhere. As a result, there are probably at least four or five (See? I am not even certain of how many there are, for chrissakes!) of them around here somewhere...they have to be somewhere...but, I can rarely find more than one and even that finding of a single one can be a problem. Why that is, I have no idea. Same for the glue sticks, but if I find one of the glue guns, there is likely to be a package of sticks with it. This is so irritating that it makes me want to go and find one, right this minute. Oh, O.K., if I take a few deep and cleansing breaths, sit quietly for a moment and close my eyes, that urge will likely pass. O.K., then. Yeah. Whew. Better now.
So, anyway, my intention is, as long as I am caught up on working on that site, I am going to tackle the art fair boxes in the front closet. I am going to organize that stuff to within an inch of art-fair-stuff consciousness. I am too busy this year to do any art fairs or womens' fairs or any of that stuff, so I am going to give all of the last season stuff away.
As difficult as it was to give away the beginnings of the larger giving away of books (still to be completed) process, this art stuff is a killer. I waited for nearly fifty years to do art, to have it be a part of my actual, daily life that divesting myself of the excess is totally breaking my heart and a significant portion of my spirit. Just another thing that I do not want to do. I seem to prefer the burden of having all of this stuff around to getting it the heck out of here and being free of the weight of it all. Plus, there is that whole getting rid of the old to make way for the new. Man.
It is small consolation, although any consolation might be nice, that once I start throwing stuff away, that someone who is not me will once again begin going through the trash bags and pulling stuff out and hiding it in the garage with all of the stuff that someone who is not me pulls from the trash and hides in the garage. So, it really never leaves, it just goes to become mouse, chipmunk, ground squirrel and spider homes and toilets in that place that would be a garage if it was emptied of all of the hidden stuff and could have space for my car.
That sound frustrating, the part about how stuff is hidden there, and it is frustrating, but it is also funny and of some comfort to know that I am not the worst hoarder here, especially when I look at the pile of old, cardboard boxes that someone who is not me will not allow to leave the property. At least I can make pretty and cool and, well, often weird, art. All the boxes could be used to make is, ummmm...well...oh, my god, they could be used to make a fort in the backyard. Now, how cool is that!
Alrighty, enough of trashing someone who is not me. It was fun, I enjoyed it and it is only a matter of time before I do it again, but I do have to get at that closet.
Pull my hair back into a bun, roll up my sleeves, and just get to it.
I wonder if there is time for a nap first.
Laissez-faire. For everyone.
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