Well, it's been a few weeks.

I keep finding little things I want to write about--

the way the water in the creek has carved out a new path through all its ethereal little islands of leaves 

the way, the day after her son's family moved back out, the sun room of a woman I work for had the warm, empty, hastily abandoned feel of a summer camp at August's end

the stunningly beautiful rain of leaves in each autumn breeze 

the rainbow around the full moon--

But I just never do. So here I am, mentioning them in passing. 

Here are two more recent things in my memory:

1. I just made myself two eggs for dinner, fried over-easy in coconut oil and covered with tumeric, chili powder, parmesan cheese, and garlic. Good God they were wonderful.

2. I've gone out a couple of times recently with a guy named Ian. And, though I harbor near-constant suspicions that we are not each others' types, he is nevertheless really sweet and pretty awesome, and his texts often make me laugh out loud. Also he's agnostic, so if this goes anywhere my mom is really gonna love that. But anyway, we'll see.

Happy Veteran's Day, everyone.

Notes on medicine, honesty, weather, and unnecessarily profound observations.

Prednisone is not tasty, but I am still worried about having just taken my last dose. I still itch. Shouldn't I have stopped itching by now?
 (The poison ivy has improved--drastically, in some places. But it isn't gone. My itching hands and shins still contributed to my poor sleep last night.)


I just had to (or felt that I had to) admit to a guy I've been talking to that I might have met somebody cool and thus might not be around on the site much longer. So now I feel pretty bad. Great. (Cry me a river, I know. Watch it not work out, anyway. How often do these things work out? So far: 1-3 times in 25 years, that's how often.)


It has been raining a lot over in this part of the world. It's kind of nice, aside from the part where I don't get to do the outdoor work with Rick that I was supposed to do earlier in the week, and thus do not get paid for it. A particularly close bolt of lightning (and crash of thunder) shook the house quite hard this morning.

And when it is raining, I love hearing the birds still singing--even through the lighting and thunder sometimes. I guess I don't have much else to say about it. I just love those sounds together, and the symbolism that I can make up and put in there.


And here is a quote from Style Rookie, which I rarely read but which often amuses me when I do, despite my almost complete disinterest in style: "The thought of summer and its nearing end is causing me to make unnecessarily profound observations about the way the light is hitting all the crap on my desk while the sun sets."


This reminds me so much of myself, except that I make unnecessarily profound observations about the way the light is hitting all the crap on my desk (and so on) almost literally all the time.

About the dorky and distastefulness

--Seriously, thinking about the whole setup makes me feel like a loser in a sea of losers, but I know that that's my own nonsensical bias and that I should get over it. I just haven't quite managed to do so yet.

But there are a bunch of people I've been emailing, several of whom seem really cool. And I mean, that's cool. But I met one on Friday that I like a lot and will be seeing again tomorrow (and probably Thursday), and now I've got this worry/guilt complex thing about all of the other people I've been talking to that haven't been really given a fair chance yet, and whom I might be about to ditch. But meeting up with them when I really mostly just want to talk to Mark isn't any better than cutting off contact. And cutting off contact with them only to find that it isn't going to work with Mark sounds like a pretty terrible idea as well.


And there's my personal, whiny, Marie-nobody-wants-to-hear-this-ish business.



Love me anyway? And wish me luck at bar trivia, if you don't mind.

Just pretend this is in a normal font and size. I reserve the right to write elsewhere and copy/paste from undisclosed locations.

Camp is over, three friends came and stayed and are now gone. My resume has been (probably poorly) updated, and I'm looking for jobs in a meandering sort of way, doing little odd jobs for people that need them, chewing on the idea of grad school.

Still doing this weird "online dating" thing, which in large part I find distasteful and dorky, but which I continue to use as a way to get myself the hell out of the house. Thus far nothing goes anywhere, but there have been some interesting emails, some decent movies, and whatever. I am pretty excellent at going on lots of first dates and never really talking to any of these guys again. Usually this is more a function of my apathy/laziness than of any strong negativity. And I mean, I guess that's alright. Still hoping to run across somebody awesome, on there or in real life. Preferably in real life, obviously.


I have a truly terrible case of poison ivy, contracted while I was running siphons out into the backyard during the hurricane in a (thankfully successful) attempt to keep the basement from flooding. Nothing I was doing was helping at all, so yesterday I broke down and went in for a cortisone shot. I think it has helped, but the stuff definitely isn't gone. Time to call in the prescription for prednizone, I guess. I'm tired of being unable to sleep through the night, and waking up scratching the skin off my forearms, fingers, ankle, face, etc. It shouldn't be able to spread once the oil has been washed off, but I swear it's still spreading, six days later. Good times.


I've been working with my neighbor Hartley, helping with storm cleanup while he fixes the roof of a house that was smashed in during the storm. So many long-established trees were blown down, and now are being cut up and loaded into trailers and hauled off for mulch. It's a sad thing. But the wood smells like fall to me, and I've been catching whiffs of fall more and more frequently in recent days. The temperature is dropping just slightly, and the leaves are beginning to fall and accumulate along the side of the road. It's time.

Staff training: an emotional reflection.

I am home, and (judging by the hour) possibly not resting as I should.

I both love and do-not-love the way that in my eyes, all of my coworkers are the same age--as each other, as myself. It can be an excellent way to view things, but it can also be unhelpful.

I love the way that this place is a perfect venue to get to know people on a level that is simply unavailable in any other situation I have ever experienced. There's something about the mix of the work and the training and the prayer time and the decompression that brings out true hearts.

I love the joy and laughter of our little staff bonding traditions--I speak here of "The Challenge." Even if I did nearly run into Melissa in the dark. Even if I did do an accidental full body slide on the wet grass in the dark. Victoria and I remarked to each other that "we have such a good group this year." We felt like proud parents.
    And when the guys returned from their own version, and the newbies walked in with huge grins, we clapped and cheered. This is a wonderful place.


I love the peace and truth and discovery that come, and I love the dancing and the singing and the silliness. I love that in the middle of our campfire the other night, we took a break from teaching the new kids camp songs and broke into Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds." I love the fighting and fatigue and stress, and the struggle and epiphany and euphoria. I love the sudden surprise of hot cofflet in the morning, and I love the spontaneous games that spring from nowhere, from the minds of the crazy guys that come to work. I love it all.

Spring.

This morning I was informed that the red welt-looking spots around my right eye are likely poison ivy, and shortly thereafter I found a seed tick on my stomach.

A few nights ago, while walking Miley, I heard the trees rustling in the night wind. Do you know what that means? Leaves. When I came home, I found two inchworms in my hair.

Last night I and another person sat out on a curb drinking wine (I from my dino sippy cup*) and talking and watching the moon rise until almost 1 am, and the bats were swooping over the spill pond, and we didn't even freeze.

I'm pretty sure that it's spring.



Also: there is nothing like the smell of calamine lotion. It ranks right up there with sunscreen on the "summer smells" list.



























*who, it occurred to me last evening, is unnamed. How have I allowed this to happen? I think he may be a Harold. Or a Ferdinand. Or perhaps a Harold Ferdinand, which will prevent me from having to make any decisions on the subject. It has a nice ring to it. Harold Ferdinand.

Hey, it's April again.

I guess it's been a few days. Seems like forever. But yes, it's April again.

For days I've been meaning to write about the fabulous sunset I saw on the way to Kelly's house the other evening, but I have felt neither the inclination nor the obligation to put anything down, aside from the initial notes on my cell phone notepad:

The most delicate peach-pink on the softest baby blue, and the whisping clouds in front a dark, pastel lavender. The sky is the only thing that can get away with pastels, if you ask me. A spring sky, post-rain, at gloaming time. Is anything more lovely? And the moon, hanging round and full just above the colored clouds.



I've been taking a WSI class, and I've been trying to coexist with my allergies, and it's just exhausting. The class was Saturday and today, and will run tomorrow and through Wednesday, 7-8 hours each time. I still haven't found the time and motivation to read through the materials, but I'd better before Wednesday, when we're sure to have a test. Red Cross rules rightly state that a person has to score an 80% or above to receive certification, and with the money Camp is paying for this class, I really think I'd better get a certification. So.

I'm enjoying the class though. Just not the fatigue, as much.

Regarding the allergies: I woke up sometime last week with a sinus infection, which has transmuted itself into some sort of dry-and-itchy throated, sleepy, sometimes headachy cough. And my eyes itch and burn.


Sunday, Lorraine and Jr and I responded (for once) to Anna's invitation to join her in dancing at Capital Ale House downtown. It was nice. And I had thought that Lorraine and Anna would hit it off, and they did. Lovely.


I seem to have been practicing self-sabotage on POF. That's probably okay. I've managed to end most email conversations that were going on, some more intentionally than others, and none gracefully. I thought I'd made a friend, back there at the beginning, and maybe I have--but we've hardly spoken in a week or so. It annoys me a bit that a week here is an "omg what's going on" issue, when going a week or more without contacting the vast majority of my friends is barely an issue, if it even rates mention at all. But anyway, I made boundaries and let him cross them, and it dampened my enthusiasm for the relationship. And then today a person I'd thought I might meet asked (or I assume that he'd have termed "send me a picture" as "asking") for a cell phone picture of myself, and I got annoyed and refused, and he got frustrated and hasn't texted since. (This is probably for the best, as I had nearly accidentally double-booked myself for Thursday evening.) It seems to be par for the course for that place to exchange cell phone pictures, but I think it's a stupid game. I don't really have a slew of pictures of myself on my phone, for one thing, but then also, who's to say we'll ever speak again? This is barely even an acquaintance-ship. You do not need to have a picture of me on your phone. And if you're asking because you don't "trust" the pictures I've got posted already, then you're kind of an idiot. One is faked as easily as the other.

That's the second rant I've written on the subject today.

Friday morning, quite early, I fly to Saratoga Springs to see Adrienne and Ian on their birthday. I'll be back Sunday, and Wednesday I'll be leaving for Lafayette, and will return Monday. Friday, or possibly Saturday morning, I'll be driving (or riding along) to Knoxville, to return Sunday. The following Friday, Saturday, and Sunday I'll be participating in a lifeguard training session taught by my friend Art, husband of Camp's director (friend Beth). The weekend after that I'll be house sitting for Sara's family, and do you want to know what's going on the weekend after that?

NOT A DAMN THING.

Rodents and emails

I rescued a squirrel today. Its name was Tony. I have decided.

(I walked out the door to go to work, and heard Faith behind me as I approached the car. She was trotting across the porch with a live squirrel in her mouth. This is because she figured out a long time ago that we didn't like her bringing dead animals into the house all the time, so she started bringing live ones instead. She put it down and I put her inside, then picked the poor thing up. I was afraid she'd broken its spine, though I couldn't see any blood, but I put it down on one of the cushions on the porch swing and it lay there wide-eyed and motionless except for its panicked gasping. I was afraid that it would die of shock, if not internal injuries, but it was gone when I came back home. I'm hoping that it recovered and scampered off.)


Man when I'm on this POF website, there are a handful of cool people it seems like, but mostly I just want to send people obnoxious snarky emails. And I mean that's fun, but then sometimes they email back when really I just wanted to say that one thing...

Aaaand I'm a jerk.

Or anyway, sometimes they DON'T email back when I was actually making a possibly not-that-humorous attempt at conversation. So I guess it all works out.






I really felt like I had more to say than that, but I guess maybe I didn't. POSSIBLY I'M JUST BORED OUT OF MY MIND.

The art of navel gazing.

I'm a pusher.

Am I an introvert? I've always said yes, and in a way I believe that I am--but I tend to fall so squarely on the line that I can't really be completely sure. Somehow that's an odd feeling.


I'm about 98% positive that a dating website is not the thing for me. So why am I still there? Maybe it's a way to kill time. You know, because I need more help killing time in the middle of the night. Clearly screwing around online is a better idea than sleeping at 3 am.


Ok so I'm reading this article from Psychology Today on introversion (almost an obsession lately--I know, weird), and OMG look at this:

"In a series of studies in which subjects were presented with an effortful task such as taking a test, thinking rationally, or giving a speech, introverts did not choose to invoke happy feelings, reports Boston College psychologist Maya Tamir. They preferred to maintain a neutral emotional state. Happiness, an arousing emotion, may be distracting for introverts during tasks. By contrast, extraverts reported a preference to feel "happy," "up," or "enthusiastic" and to recall happy memories while approaching or completing the tasks."


It's me. It's me. I hate emotion when I'm trying to think. Or focus. Or relax. I pretty much just hate emotion. Imean, it has its place. I know it does. But that's a thing I need to keep telling myself, or I'll forget. 


(Don't know what's up with the font sizes. Sorry about that.)


"Even a simple opener of "Hello, how are you? Hey, I've been meaning to talk to you about X," from anyone can challenge an introvert. Rather than bypassing the first question or interrupting the flow to answer it, the introvert holds onto the question: Hmm, how am I? (An internal dialogue begins, in which the introvert "hears" herself talking internally as the other person speaks.)

Even if the introvert responds, "I'm good," she's probably still reflecting on how she is: Good? That's not quite right. I really have had a pretty crummy day, but there isn't a quick way to explain that. She wants to first work out privately her thoughts and judgment about the day. She also may evaluate the question itself: I hate that we so often just say 'good' because that's the convention. The other person doesn't really want to know. She may even activate memories of how the question has struck her in the past.

While the introvert is evaluating the question on at least two levels (how she is feeling and what she thinks about the question, perhaps also what this says about our society), the speaker is already moving on to sharing something about his day. The introvert must take the incoming message from the speaker and tuck it into working memory until she can get to it, while more information keeps flowing in that demands tracking, sorting, searching, and critical analysis."

For me at least, I'd say that calling "hey, how are you, I've been meaning to tell you [x]" a "challenge" is a little strong, but it can be an irritation. My brain really will run straight off track just like that. Actually, the thing about "good" just being the convention might as well be a direct quote. Original, right? I know. The best part of all this is that I'm not naturally an auditory learner, so that "tuck it away for later" thing doesn't work well for me. I try automatically, but it doesn't so much work out. I've been working on the auditory processing thing, and it's improving, but it takes a lot of focus.
Anyway though, here's the article: "Revenge of the Introvert." It's a little long, but pretty good and very informative. I especially like the "things never to say to an introvert" section at the very end.

501

First, I ought not to complain about cold weather. It was a nice good-bye walk with my winter walk gear--pea coat, soft wool scarf, red leather gloves and blue knitted cap--before I put it all away for the season. The last frost. The last night of misted breath beneath a perfectly clear, moonless sky.

Sara sent me a video of a band singing to a live, outdoor audience in a language I can neither identify nor understand. It was a sweet video though, which was why she shared it. There was a section in which people were hugging each other goodbye, and I thought, "I love hugs." In the Chrome search bar I typed "youtube.com: hug" and hit enter before taking Miley for a walk. Here is what I watched, and what I think I was semi-subconsciously looking for:



I love the whole "free hugs" movement. Is it a movement? If not, it should be. When we were sixteen, Kelly and I went to World Youth Day in Toronto, Canada, with a church group from somewhere in Virginia or Maryland. It was actually more like a week, and one afternoon we saw some Aussies cheerfully walking around with "free hugs" signs*, and soon decided to make our own. We loudly advertised our hugs to the passing crowd. I started keeping track, and I think we hugged something like 1400 people in an hour. Now I have the idea that I'd like to make another "FREE HUGS" sign and take it to the mall or the park, and either walk around with it or set it next to me on a bench while I read, and see what happens. Maybe I could make a free hugs t-shirt. There should be more hugging in the world.


EDIT:
Free Hugs Homepage. Hugs are good for your health, people!
















*And thus began my love affair with all things Australian. Technically this is untrue, as I first heard of and wanted to visit the Australian continent whenI attended first grade in a "down under" themed classroom as a child. But WYD 2002 helped.

Oh, right.

It's been a while since I've dealt with my habit of emotional subduction. Or rather, I deal with it all the time, but I generally deal with it in solitude. It's been a very long time since I considered the addition of another variable--another person. And when I am just floating along in my solitary state I sit around and daydream about connecting with other people--but then when I try to let other people get closer, I begin to remember the difficulties, and the hoops I put everyone through, including myself.


I wish it were warm enough to go swimming in the river, or to drive up to the mountains and jump off redneck rock in Goshen Pass, or dive into the lake at Douthat. I'd even settle for a chlorinated pool right now. I just crave the feeling of slicing through the water, holding my breath and diving down deep, and being held and borne up by that viscous cool blueness.



For a while now I've loved Leona Lewis's song "Better In Time," and I just went to watch the video on Youtube before buying the song on Itunes. And then I went to watch another of her videos. And then another. I think I may buy her album in a moment. Or one of her albums? I don't know how many she has--I just really like her.

What the F

Why the crap am I still awake? Somebody please explain to me why the hell I'm still awake. I'm a moron.


Still feeding my addiction to that stupid POF website. I'm a sucker for low-pressure email friends. And it's like Lays. No, not that you can't eat just one--more that (generally speaking) they were never very good, but you just can't stop eating them anyway, because they're crunchy and greasy and give you something to do. It's an issue. Somebody smack me. I should just go hit on guys at the gas station instead. I considered doing this, the other day, but drove off before the plan was fully formed in my mind. (Read: wimped out.)


My Bon Ami du Festival stuff came in the mail today: shirt, sticker, handwritten note, and membership discount card. FTW. I'm too tired though to be all that enthused about it. How strange.


There's more to write, but dammit, it's 3:15. Forget it. Goodnight.

An advertisment*.

I put this up on facebook, but since they've removed the feature that keeps one's status message at the top of one's profile page, I think I'll put it here too. Just in case it makes a difference. Thing:

I am in the market for a temporary significant other for Monday. There will be no discrimination with regard to race, age, gender, sexual orientation, religion, etc. Days past Monday will be considered, especially considering the fact that chocolate and flowers will be much cheaper beginning on the 15th.


In case anyone was worrying or scoffing, this is not a high pressure crappy holiday celebration ad. This is more of a "who wants to hang out and possibly trade candy** and/or flowers" kind of thing.


There have already been a couple of takers, so actually, later dates might work better. I just, you know, tend to make myself into a hermit when left to my own devices. So the more the merrier.

























*Misspelling intentional and executed in the hopes of bringing to mind the British pronunciation of the word.

**NOT TUMS HEARTS. If you give me tums hearts, I am not giving you any of my chocolate.

I get to use the tag "work" on this post!

I prepped walls and painted primer for seven and a half hours today, and I listened through the entire Wrinkle in Time audiobook, as well as the entirety of the "Playing for Change" cd and most of the only "De Temps Antan" album that I own. Bossman left around... 4 maybe, I guess? So I was there for a good 4.5 hours by myself, and it was a little bit glorious. Possibly I could get used to this.

For dinner once I finally came home at 9:30, there was (is) delicious roasted chicken thighs with vegetables, and rice artfully overcooked so that it stays together in lumps. I rather like it that way, actually, so I suppose it isn't technically overcooked, after all.



At church this morning was a sweet-seeming man who played the electric keyboard and sang songs before and after the body of the service. When he was first up there he said something like, "I don't usually talk when I'm up here because I have a fear of communication, but I wanted to say that..." and the rest is lost to me. Typical, that I'd forget the part that's supposed to matter. I remembered the beginning though because, as some may know, a fairly sure way for a guy to attract my interest, at least momentarily, is to confess or seem to exude shyness. As soon as his songs were over this guy (Brian? His name started with a B) practically fled the stage without a word, and I watched to see where he sat.

After everything was over I went up and thanked him for singing, and he thanked me, saying that not many people ever say anything about it. He introduced himself, asked if I usually came to the services, I said sometimes, etc. He is shy. He seemed to be interested in talking to me but I was an emotional wreck at the time (had a five minute throwing stuff/crying fit as soon as I could get out of the building and hide out of sight of the parking lot), and neither of us had much to say. He seemed very sweet though. Unfortunately I couldn't really judge his age and don't really have any way to find out without seeming like a complete creep/jerk. I guess I'll see him in a couple of weeks though, as I'll be leading a caving trip up at Camp this weekend.