I've spent part of the morning watching dust motes float through the sunlight that's falling beneath the dining room table. They're beautiful. They're like infinitesimal sparks or sparkles. I couldn't even see them; I could only see the reflection, the glow. And then I lost sight of them. I know they're still there, but I can't find the focus again.
That's interesting--that the motes can only be seen by their glowing; that they float so easily with the air, up, down, and around through both sun and shade; that I can lose sight of them so quickly and completely.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Friday, January 8, 2010
Out of Order; Basketball Weekend
Car fixed! (Well not mine, but one that I can drive. With heat!)
Pride & Prejudice (movie, 2005).
Dinner: venison sandwiches, broiled asparagus.
Work: she-crab soup, tax paperwork.
This weekend: a bunch of basketball, and going to visit David!
Also, just found this on pretty much the best website ever, Graphjam.
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Pride & Prejudice (movie, 2005).
Dinner: venison sandwiches, broiled asparagus.
Work: she-crab soup, tax paperwork.
This weekend: a bunch of basketball, and going to visit David!
Also, just found this on pretty much the best website ever, Graphjam.
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
Okay, FINE.
I've been obsessing a little bit lately over poetry, as you may have noticed if you read my post-before-last. Like I said, I'm rather aching for a poetry workshop group. I want to be writing. I have been, a very little bit, and as I don't have a workshop group, I guess the next best thing I can do is post them here. I'd use o.d., but I'm afraid I'd end up with one of those legions of people who tell not-that-great poets how wonderful and beautiful and touching their poetry is. (Or possibly worse, that I wouldn't.) I have no idea really whether I have any poetic talent, but I want to be writing either way. So here we go. Here are two that I started earlier in the fall and have worked on once or twice since then. I was really not very happy with them in the beginning, but I think they're a little better now. If anyone has opinions (particularly specific, constructive opinions), feel free to share.
This first one was written because I wrote as my facebook status one day, "I wish I was [were? I'm never sure about this] the heir to some beautiful, sprawling country estate somewhere." I later discovered that my sister, hearing the status message read aloud, had thought that I had written "I wish I was[/were] the air" to some estate, and that I was being poetic. So I decided to be poetic, in a slightly annoying, punny sort of way. Here's the result thus far.
The Air To A Country Estate
I'd breeze in through the French doors
and down the wide, open hallways,
spreading late afternoon sun like
sweet cream butter. I'd lie around lightly
and lazy on cotton bedspreads, light pink
and worn thin and soft. I'd roll through
the dust and dirt like scuffed suede boots,
drink the dew from the lawn, and breathe
out across the ruffled brown-blue bay.
Here are my issues with this poem at this moment: "I'd I'd I'd..." It practically sounds like a stutter to me. The sentences all begin the same way, and they're almost all choppy. Also, the poem doesn't really say anything. It's just a couple of images that I kind of like, strung together. So I like the language and the imagery okay, but I find the poem as a whole rather irritating.
Second poem, inspired by my lamentably short visit to the Farley family beach week this year. It was fantastic in a lot of ways. For instance: my mom and I arrived at the beach just in time to walk into a huge crab-picking free-for-all. A house full of excellent food, excellent wine, plenty of beer, and a lot of people who loved each other. After the party she and I went and stayed in a house with three of her brothers, and one sister-in-law (my favorite one), and I got peer pressured into a shot of vodka and an impromptu music appreciation lesson. (The main thrust of which was that Ry Cooder was the best guitarist of all time, and Little Feat was the best album.) Anyway, the point of this is that at some point my mom and my uncle Bobby and I went for a walk on the beach, and it was one of those rare nights where patches of the sand are filled with...magic, essentially...dinoflagellates, and phosphoresce when you walk across them. I've only seen that one other time, on a pretty great weekend kayaking trip out to the Outer Banks with some friends in high school. So here's this one.
Bioluminescence
Sea birds cry the hours as they pass,
and the sun grows heavy
and sinks wearily below the hoizon,
nodding softly
and pressing west.
Behind the hidden moon, stars stretch
and sigh. Sparks flutter awake
as the day fades, and wash the dim sea
in faint,
sliding drops.
Endless waves crash
and drag down the beach,
dropping dinoflagellates from the foam
and whispering of brief,
green jewels
buried in the sand.
My issues with this poem: again, it doesn't really say anything at all. There's some nice imagery I guess, but even that is awkward, and there's not much of a point to it. I guess what it comes down to is that both poems amount to "I saw this pretty thing one time, and I haven't bothered to find anything in any way symbolic or meaningful about it, but it was pretty." They're irrelevant.
I wrote this one yesterday at work, on a paper napkin.
There are so many different kinds of love.
In this room, the love of the young man for his pen.
The love of the pen for the paper.
The love of the paper for the hand.
Of the fish-seller's knowing hands
for the knife, for the tray,
for the soft fish flesh that he prunes
and carefully smooths with water.
The water too bears love for the fish, for the sinks,
for the soap, the soap for the dishes
and hands. The display case bears up the ice;
the ice gives itself up for the food it cradles.
Love of floor for feet, feet for hands,
hands for food for body. There is love upon love
upon love, mixed with love. All different.
All the same.
(Edit: the sign-off on the last entry was supposed to say peace out. But I think maybe I kind of like peach, too. Hm.)
This first one was written because I wrote as my facebook status one day, "I wish I was [were? I'm never sure about this] the heir to some beautiful, sprawling country estate somewhere." I later discovered that my sister, hearing the status message read aloud, had thought that I had written "I wish I was[/were] the air" to some estate, and that I was being poetic. So I decided to be poetic, in a slightly annoying, punny sort of way. Here's the result thus far.
The Air To A Country Estate
I'd breeze in through the French doors
and down the wide, open hallways,
spreading late afternoon sun like
sweet cream butter. I'd lie around lightly
and lazy on cotton bedspreads, light pink
and worn thin and soft. I'd roll through
the dust and dirt like scuffed suede boots,
drink the dew from the lawn, and breathe
out across the ruffled brown-blue bay.
Here are my issues with this poem at this moment: "I'd I'd I'd..." It practically sounds like a stutter to me. The sentences all begin the same way, and they're almost all choppy. Also, the poem doesn't really say anything. It's just a couple of images that I kind of like, strung together. So I like the language and the imagery okay, but I find the poem as a whole rather irritating.
Second poem, inspired by my lamentably short visit to the Farley family beach week this year. It was fantastic in a lot of ways. For instance: my mom and I arrived at the beach just in time to walk into a huge crab-picking free-for-all. A house full of excellent food, excellent wine, plenty of beer, and a lot of people who loved each other. After the party she and I went and stayed in a house with three of her brothers, and one sister-in-law (my favorite one), and I got peer pressured into a shot of vodka and an impromptu music appreciation lesson. (The main thrust of which was that Ry Cooder was the best guitarist of all time, and Little Feat was the best album.) Anyway, the point of this is that at some point my mom and my uncle Bobby and I went for a walk on the beach, and it was one of those rare nights where patches of the sand are filled with...magic, essentially...dinoflagellates, and phosphoresce when you walk across them. I've only seen that one other time, on a pretty great weekend kayaking trip out to the Outer Banks with some friends in high school. So here's this one.
Bioluminescence
Sea birds cry the hours as they pass,
and the sun grows heavy
and sinks wearily below the hoizon,
nodding softly
and pressing west.
Behind the hidden moon, stars stretch
and sigh. Sparks flutter awake
as the day fades, and wash the dim sea
in faint,
sliding drops.
Endless waves crash
and drag down the beach,
dropping dinoflagellates from the foam
and whispering of brief,
green jewels
buried in the sand.
My issues with this poem: again, it doesn't really say anything at all. There's some nice imagery I guess, but even that is awkward, and there's not much of a point to it. I guess what it comes down to is that both poems amount to "I saw this pretty thing one time, and I haven't bothered to find anything in any way symbolic or meaningful about it, but it was pretty." They're irrelevant.
I wrote this one yesterday at work, on a paper napkin.
There are so many different kinds of love.
In this room, the love of the young man for his pen.
The love of the pen for the paper.
The love of the paper for the hand.
Of the fish-seller's knowing hands
for the knife, for the tray,
for the soft fish flesh that he prunes
and carefully smooths with water.
The water too bears love for the fish, for the sinks,
for the soap, the soap for the dishes
and hands. The display case bears up the ice;
the ice gives itself up for the food it cradles.
Love of floor for feet, feet for hands,
hands for food for body. There is love upon love
upon love, mixed with love. All different.
All the same.
(Edit: the sign-off on the last entry was supposed to say peace out. But I think maybe I kind of like peach, too. Hm.)
Today: pretty good.
Side note: (can it count as a side note if it's the first thing I write?) I think/am pretty sure that I'm actually afraid to say that I've had a good or really good or awesome (or whatever) day. I mean, I have an extremely strong aversion to it--strong enough that I think it must be fear. Maybe I'm afraid I'll jinx it. Anyway.
Accomplishments today, aside from/related to/in addition to? having a--dare I say it?--really good* day!Oh, it was. I mean, I woke up a little early (I don't know how early--I decided that checking my clock would only piss me off) to my brother's little dog barking outside. She sleeps over rather often, and evidently she'd forced my poor mother to take her out. Generally I have a difficult time recovering from a "how was your day" setback like an unnecessarily early wakeup, but I did it! I was having a little bit of an attitude problem, but I decided to text "good morning!" to David anyway. And he texted back in Spanish, which I pretty much always love for some reason, and suddenly I was smiling again. (Crisis averted!)
Went to work, helped set up display cases and so on, then got to go to 7-11 for hot chocolate/coffee (with hazelnut creamer--so delicious) and to the grocery store for some veggies to put out front. And hand lotion! I think, for some reason, my boss doesn't want to argue with me even when I'm not really trying to argue for things. So I mentioned that he'd said we used to have lotion and that we don't now, and that maybe we could use some, and he didn't seem enthusiastic about it and I started to say it wasn't a big deal, and then he said something like, "Fine, get whatever you want." Anyway, Gold Bond lotion seems pretty great so far.
There wasn't much going on today at our little seafood store--not usually a lot of customers in the morning (and today was no exception), and not much cooking to do. So I made some crab dip and put it in the fridge, and then read my book ("Salt: A World History"**) for a while. When I'm reading I tend to force those around me to listen to interesting snippets from the text, so somehow I ended up talking to my co-worker, Colin, about salt I guess, and then about theoretical physics, cigarettes, guy/girl relationships ("why do guys/girls do [thing]?"), theology, books, and then beer. He's actually a pretty cool kid, and this makes me even more irritated that other people (or at least some others, maybe not all) at work tend to treat him like he's an idiot. I think it's an example of one person deciding that another is stupid, and then finding instances that support their beliefs. And then getting other people to agree with those beliefs. Not really ok when what you're supporting is your habit of belittling a perfectly nice and perfectly normal and reasonably intelligent 19 year old kid. Anyway, I like him. Like I said, he's nice and he's interested in theoretical physics, which is a fairly rare find. So. Accomplishment: socializing at work. And I ended up staying an hour late, making up for the time I lost yesterday leaving a half-hour early***.
After work I finally remembered to call my uncle Bud about the radiator in my car (did I mention how I had probably cracked it on Sunday?), and he didn't even chew me out about it, which was pretty fabulous. He said he hadn't been able to get out to look at it (as it is abandoned at a church near us but nowhere near him, really), but that I should go check it out and see if I could figure out where the water (that was the problem right there: the contents of my radiator consisted almost entirely of water, which, you may have noticed, tends to freeze when the temperature drops to 17 Fahrenheit.) had actually been leaking (read: pouring) out.
Sometimes I am a little embarrassed by my affection toward parenthesis.
I told Uncle Bud, ok, I have to stop at home first, but then I will go check on the engine and give you a call to let you know what I find out. I went home to find the number I needed to call to order new contacts (oh my goodness, finally), and lo and behold, there was Jack! His eyes looked a little red--I can't really see him crying, though I'm sure it's possible--and he was on the couch watching Man vs. Wild. I had never seen Man vs. Wild, and I feel like a whole new chapter in my life has opened up. I talked to Jack a little, watched a few episodes, collected packages and addresses so that I could ACTUALLY GET SOME THINGS MAILED (in case you're not aware, this is a really big deal for me), and then, wait for it, called Cynthia and asked her for new contacts. She is our backdoor neighbor, whom I used to see all the time, but whom I never see anymore. I've been meaning to call her for ages (I've been wearing this pair of contacts since September, and they've been seriously irritating my eyes all week--obviously this is a bad idea), but I haven't because, among other things, I was embarrassed to ask her for contacts when I hadn't been seeing her on a regular basis. Never mind the fact that her daughter and my sister, and her sister and my mom, are close friends, and I've known her for about 18 years. Ugh. So yeah, I finally called and it was great to talk to her, and my eye prescription is in her mailbox, and I'll have contacts shortly. Thank goodness. I'm wearing my glasses right now (a last resort) and I'm not a big fan.
^^^ Look at all those accomplishments today! And I'm not even finished!
AFTER that, my mom came home and we...watched some Man vs. Wild and ate some delicious delicious homemade black bean and turkey chili with cheddar cheese and arugula. Mmm. THEN I went to the post office and mailed a book (The Just-So Stories!) to a former camper (hopefully counselor this coming year) of mine--a kid named Sean who I've known since he was nine. He is such a sweet kid, and he's grown up so much. It's amazing to see. I bought this book for him in the summer and have been repeatedly forgetting to bring it to him when I see him, so finally I just wrapped it up and mailed it. Also mailed a cd of that one woman from American Idol (why can't I remember her name??) who sang "I Dreamed A Dream," from Les Miserables, so beautifully. My sister and I each bought my mom a copy for Christmas, so we decided to send the second to our friend Lorraine on Long Island. Mom and Chloe put it in an envelope and addressed it, and then it started kicking around the house, so I took it with me today.
Oh! Also! Today I discovered (via my boss) that they do make lahmacun in the United States! I mean, I guess it was obvious that someone made it somewhere on this side of the Atlantic, but I hadn't been able to find it. He says there's a place in Massachusetts (ok apparently I've never tried to spell that before. It was impossible. I gave up and used Firefox [Blogger?] spellcheck. And I'm not even a bad speller, usually!) that makes it. Not that helpful, and I'm not sure I buy it anyway because the places I've been in DC and NYC that make "lahmacun" made a pretty sorry excuse for it, if you ask me. But still maybe worth a try someday. He said though that lahmacun isn't actually of Turkish origin (I was a little offended by that, which I find sort of funny)--that it's actually Armenian (or something). There's a Mediterranean bakery near where I work, and he said that I should try there, though their version (the Armenian, or possibly Lebanese...or something...) version is a little different (plus cinnamon, for example, and minus tomatoes, which is a shame) and is called "fatayer," which would be spelled "fatayi" in Turkish I think. (Fuh-tie-yuh.) I hope they have it. And I hope it's good.
Back to the timeline: after the post office, Mom went with me to check in my car, and she brought Miley. I'm not sure why, as she seemed pretty aggravated with Miley at the time. That dog is pretty entertaining in the car. Anyway we went, and there didn't seem to be an actual crack in my radiator from what I could tell, which is of course a plus. We'd been hoping that the leak would have come from the place where we'd linked two hoses to bypass the heater core earlier in the fall, but it wasn't. Not as much of a plus. I put some radiator fluid in and turned on the car (okay, vice versa, really), and we looked to see where things leaked out. Here, as I said, things didn't leak out. They poured out, from somewhere underneath the engine casing, near where the air filter hose joined with the casing. Uncle Bud said (I think) that I might have blown a freeze (fuse?)...something. Box? Joint? And I don't know what that means exactly. (Come to think of it, I don't know what that means at all.) I asked, and he said that it would be a little more complicated to fix. I guess though that it's still less complicated (or at least cheaper) than a new radiator, so that's definitely good.
Tonight I looked up Action For Change, which my mom mentioned last night, and which seems pretty great. Unfortunately they want you to have prior experience with Initiatives of Change (their parent organization) programs, and I don't. I've heard of them because my godmother (not the one who had the party David couldn't attend; a different one. Don't ask me how I have two godmothers, because I have no idea.) is involved with them, but I don't have any actual experience with them. I emailed to see whether this could be remedied quickly, as the application deadline is March 1st. Guess I'll just cross my fingers, and then maybe write a letter about how they should accept me anyway. I think I'd really like to do it, because it's all about leadership training, and learning to find yourself and discipline yourself and learn to understand and interact with people of different faiths and cultures (the program is made up fo people from all over the world), and learn how to make a difference in the world and in your own community, and all of these are things I'd like to learn. I have tended to be pretty directionless of the the past several years--all I really know is that I want to be helpful in some way--and it would be fantastic to learn strategies and grow in confidence and experience. I guess we'll see whether that's where I'm meant to be next winter.
So a decent day, no? Tomorrow maybe I'll tackle the IRS. (Or maybe even tonight! Why not?)
Peach out, brothas.
*Another part of my issue with applying superlatives to my feelings: sometimes it feels a little dishonest, or something. Isn't that silly? But I feel like I need to mention that it wasn't only good--that there were not-that-great things that happened as well. I wouldn't want people thinking my day full of unadulterated pleasure when, in actuality, my eyes hurt a lot of the time, and I still owe a bunch of people/organizations money, and I'm not sure yet what the deal is with my car. Why are those things necessary to mention? Or I feel like I should point out that my moods, good or bad, usually last a few days. Sometimes longer. I think. Who knows? I don't judge time well. But dammit, today I feel good! And yesterday was pretty decent too, and the day before that was also downright good. Also: I am working on positive thinking, but obviously (can't you tell?) I've got some old habits I'm working on kicking to the curb.
**There's some really cool stuff in there! I mean, some pieces are pretty repetitive (for instance, the chapters and chapters, and chapters and chapters on salted fish and different processes for producing salt), but there's a lot on history and etymology and even ancient/old recipes, and on the whole it's pretty interesting. Today I read about the salt mine in Wieliczka, Poland where ancient miners carved everything out of salt. I know what you're thinking: duh, it's a salt mine. Of course everything is carved from salt. You don't understand. They've carved a ballroom, and an underground lake, and a chapel, and now (I think) even a spa down there, and everything in them is carved from rock salt. As in, the crystal chandelier in the ballroom is made of salt.
***For the funeral of my friend Johnny's grandfather. Luckily I found out about it just in time--the morning of. I hadn't seen Johnny in a while, and a few other classmates of ours were there too, and it was really nice to see them. Also, Johnny and Andrew (another classmate) have evidently just gone in on a boat together (don't ask me where the got the money; I have no idea. Parents, maybe? Not sure why they'd fund that, but whatever), and I have been vaguely offered a future ride on it, and they're talking about having a "Rejects" high school reunion party on the boat. Not that "rejects" would be a fitting title at all, particularly considering that the other two girls present for the conversation were pretty popular in high school, and Johnny was decently popular himself I think, but whatever. I'm pretty sure he's just referring to the fact that he tends to really dislike being around most of the people we went to school with.
Accomplishments today, aside from/related to/in addition to? having a--dare I say it?--really good* day!Oh, it was. I mean, I woke up a little early (I don't know how early--I decided that checking my clock would only piss me off) to my brother's little dog barking outside. She sleeps over rather often, and evidently she'd forced my poor mother to take her out. Generally I have a difficult time recovering from a "how was your day" setback like an unnecessarily early wakeup, but I did it! I was having a little bit of an attitude problem, but I decided to text "good morning!" to David anyway. And he texted back in Spanish, which I pretty much always love for some reason, and suddenly I was smiling again. (Crisis averted!)
Went to work, helped set up display cases and so on, then got to go to 7-11 for hot chocolate/coffee (with hazelnut creamer--so delicious) and to the grocery store for some veggies to put out front. And hand lotion! I think, for some reason, my boss doesn't want to argue with me even when I'm not really trying to argue for things. So I mentioned that he'd said we used to have lotion and that we don't now, and that maybe we could use some, and he didn't seem enthusiastic about it and I started to say it wasn't a big deal, and then he said something like, "Fine, get whatever you want." Anyway, Gold Bond lotion seems pretty great so far.
There wasn't much going on today at our little seafood store--not usually a lot of customers in the morning (and today was no exception), and not much cooking to do. So I made some crab dip and put it in the fridge, and then read my book ("Salt: A World History"**) for a while. When I'm reading I tend to force those around me to listen to interesting snippets from the text, so somehow I ended up talking to my co-worker, Colin, about salt I guess, and then about theoretical physics, cigarettes, guy/girl relationships ("why do guys/girls do [thing]?"), theology, books, and then beer. He's actually a pretty cool kid, and this makes me even more irritated that other people (or at least some others, maybe not all) at work tend to treat him like he's an idiot. I think it's an example of one person deciding that another is stupid, and then finding instances that support their beliefs. And then getting other people to agree with those beliefs. Not really ok when what you're supporting is your habit of belittling a perfectly nice and perfectly normal and reasonably intelligent 19 year old kid. Anyway, I like him. Like I said, he's nice and he's interested in theoretical physics, which is a fairly rare find. So. Accomplishment: socializing at work. And I ended up staying an hour late, making up for the time I lost yesterday leaving a half-hour early***.
After work I finally remembered to call my uncle Bud about the radiator in my car (did I mention how I had probably cracked it on Sunday?), and he didn't even chew me out about it, which was pretty fabulous. He said he hadn't been able to get out to look at it (as it is abandoned at a church near us but nowhere near him, really), but that I should go check it out and see if I could figure out where the water (that was the problem right there: the contents of my radiator consisted almost entirely of water, which, you may have noticed, tends to freeze when the temperature drops to 17 Fahrenheit.) had actually been leaking (read: pouring) out.
Sometimes I am a little embarrassed by my affection toward parenthesis.
I told Uncle Bud, ok, I have to stop at home first, but then I will go check on the engine and give you a call to let you know what I find out. I went home to find the number I needed to call to order new contacts (oh my goodness, finally), and lo and behold, there was Jack! His eyes looked a little red--I can't really see him crying, though I'm sure it's possible--and he was on the couch watching Man vs. Wild. I had never seen Man vs. Wild, and I feel like a whole new chapter in my life has opened up. I talked to Jack a little, watched a few episodes, collected packages and addresses so that I could ACTUALLY GET SOME THINGS MAILED (in case you're not aware, this is a really big deal for me), and then, wait for it, called Cynthia and asked her for new contacts. She is our backdoor neighbor, whom I used to see all the time, but whom I never see anymore. I've been meaning to call her for ages (I've been wearing this pair of contacts since September, and they've been seriously irritating my eyes all week--obviously this is a bad idea), but I haven't because, among other things, I was embarrassed to ask her for contacts when I hadn't been seeing her on a regular basis. Never mind the fact that her daughter and my sister, and her sister and my mom, are close friends, and I've known her for about 18 years. Ugh. So yeah, I finally called and it was great to talk to her, and my eye prescription is in her mailbox, and I'll have contacts shortly. Thank goodness. I'm wearing my glasses right now (a last resort) and I'm not a big fan.
^^^ Look at all those accomplishments today! And I'm not even finished!
AFTER that, my mom came home and we...watched some Man vs. Wild and ate some delicious delicious homemade black bean and turkey chili with cheddar cheese and arugula. Mmm. THEN I went to the post office and mailed a book (The Just-So Stories!) to a former camper (hopefully counselor this coming year) of mine--a kid named Sean who I've known since he was nine. He is such a sweet kid, and he's grown up so much. It's amazing to see. I bought this book for him in the summer and have been repeatedly forgetting to bring it to him when I see him, so finally I just wrapped it up and mailed it. Also mailed a cd of that one woman from American Idol (why can't I remember her name??) who sang "I Dreamed A Dream," from Les Miserables, so beautifully. My sister and I each bought my mom a copy for Christmas, so we decided to send the second to our friend Lorraine on Long Island. Mom and Chloe put it in an envelope and addressed it, and then it started kicking around the house, so I took it with me today.
Oh! Also! Today I discovered (via my boss) that they do make lahmacun in the United States! I mean, I guess it was obvious that someone made it somewhere on this side of the Atlantic, but I hadn't been able to find it. He says there's a place in Massachusetts (ok apparently I've never tried to spell that before. It was impossible. I gave up and used Firefox [Blogger?] spellcheck. And I'm not even a bad speller, usually!) that makes it. Not that helpful, and I'm not sure I buy it anyway because the places I've been in DC and NYC that make "lahmacun" made a pretty sorry excuse for it, if you ask me. But still maybe worth a try someday. He said though that lahmacun isn't actually of Turkish origin (I was a little offended by that, which I find sort of funny)--that it's actually Armenian (or something). There's a Mediterranean bakery near where I work, and he said that I should try there, though their version (the Armenian, or possibly Lebanese...or something...) version is a little different (plus cinnamon, for example, and minus tomatoes, which is a shame) and is called "fatayer," which would be spelled "fatayi" in Turkish I think. (Fuh-tie-yuh.) I hope they have it. And I hope it's good.
Back to the timeline: after the post office, Mom went with me to check in my car, and she brought Miley. I'm not sure why, as she seemed pretty aggravated with Miley at the time. That dog is pretty entertaining in the car. Anyway we went, and there didn't seem to be an actual crack in my radiator from what I could tell, which is of course a plus. We'd been hoping that the leak would have come from the place where we'd linked two hoses to bypass the heater core earlier in the fall, but it wasn't. Not as much of a plus. I put some radiator fluid in and turned on the car (okay, vice versa, really), and we looked to see where things leaked out. Here, as I said, things didn't leak out. They poured out, from somewhere underneath the engine casing, near where the air filter hose joined with the casing. Uncle Bud said (I think) that I might have blown a freeze (fuse?)...something. Box? Joint? And I don't know what that means exactly. (Come to think of it, I don't know what that means at all.) I asked, and he said that it would be a little more complicated to fix. I guess though that it's still less complicated (or at least cheaper) than a new radiator, so that's definitely good.
Tonight I looked up Action For Change, which my mom mentioned last night, and which seems pretty great. Unfortunately they want you to have prior experience with Initiatives of Change (their parent organization) programs, and I don't. I've heard of them because my godmother (not the one who had the party David couldn't attend; a different one. Don't ask me how I have two godmothers, because I have no idea.) is involved with them, but I don't have any actual experience with them. I emailed to see whether this could be remedied quickly, as the application deadline is March 1st. Guess I'll just cross my fingers, and then maybe write a letter about how they should accept me anyway. I think I'd really like to do it, because it's all about leadership training, and learning to find yourself and discipline yourself and learn to understand and interact with people of different faiths and cultures (the program is made up fo people from all over the world), and learn how to make a difference in the world and in your own community, and all of these are things I'd like to learn. I have tended to be pretty directionless of the the past several years--all I really know is that I want to be helpful in some way--and it would be fantastic to learn strategies and grow in confidence and experience. I guess we'll see whether that's where I'm meant to be next winter.
So a decent day, no? Tomorrow maybe I'll tackle the IRS. (Or maybe even tonight! Why not?)
Peach out, brothas.
*Another part of my issue with applying superlatives to my feelings: sometimes it feels a little dishonest, or something. Isn't that silly? But I feel like I need to mention that it wasn't only good--that there were not-that-great things that happened as well. I wouldn't want people thinking my day full of unadulterated pleasure when, in actuality, my eyes hurt a lot of the time, and I still owe a bunch of people/organizations money, and I'm not sure yet what the deal is with my car. Why are those things necessary to mention? Or I feel like I should point out that my moods, good or bad, usually last a few days. Sometimes longer. I think. Who knows? I don't judge time well. But dammit, today I feel good! And yesterday was pretty decent too, and the day before that was also downright good. Also: I am working on positive thinking, but obviously (can't you tell?) I've got some old habits I'm working on kicking to the curb.
**There's some really cool stuff in there! I mean, some pieces are pretty repetitive (for instance, the chapters and chapters, and chapters and chapters on salted fish and different processes for producing salt), but there's a lot on history and etymology and even ancient/old recipes, and on the whole it's pretty interesting. Today I read about the salt mine in Wieliczka, Poland where ancient miners carved everything out of salt. I know what you're thinking: duh, it's a salt mine. Of course everything is carved from salt. You don't understand. They've carved a ballroom, and an underground lake, and a chapel, and now (I think) even a spa down there, and everything in them is carved from rock salt. As in, the crystal chandelier in the ballroom is made of salt.
***For the funeral of my friend Johnny's grandfather. Luckily I found out about it just in time--the morning of. I hadn't seen Johnny in a while, and a few other classmates of ours were there too, and it was really nice to see them. Also, Johnny and Andrew (another classmate) have evidently just gone in on a boat together (don't ask me where the got the money; I have no idea. Parents, maybe? Not sure why they'd fund that, but whatever), and I have been vaguely offered a future ride on it, and they're talking about having a "Rejects" high school reunion party on the boat. Not that "rejects" would be a fitting title at all, particularly considering that the other two girls present for the conversation were pretty popular in high school, and Johnny was decently popular himself I think, but whatever. I'm pretty sure he's just referring to the fact that he tends to really dislike being around most of the people we went to school with.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Things I want, both serious and otherwise.
I want a workshop poetry class. I want the closeness of a tight-knit friend network, like I had in college and in high school and on the dive team in middle school, or even on the internet a time or two. I want to be writing. I want the relationship I'm in to be closer, and I want him to be happier.
In addition, I would appreciate not having to shower so much. I mean, I like being clean, and I like showers. But the mental energy expenditure it takes to convince myself to just get up and go take one is kind of a pain. Same goes for laundry, except that I don't much enjoy doing laundry. I do, however, enjoy having clean clothes.
Did I mention that I want someone to write poetry with? I really do. This is an issue.
(Sometimes I worry about writing overly personal/embarrassing things here, but then I remember that no one reads it except Sara, on occasion. What a relief...)
In addition, I would appreciate not having to shower so much. I mean, I like being clean, and I like showers. But the mental energy expenditure it takes to convince myself to just get up and go take one is kind of a pain. Same goes for laundry, except that I don't much enjoy doing laundry. I do, however, enjoy having clean clothes.
Did I mention that I want someone to write poetry with? I really do. This is an issue.
(Sometimes I worry about writing overly personal/embarrassing things here, but then I remember that no one reads it except Sara, on occasion. What a relief...)
3 Janvier
Today started out...not that great. Actually, I cracked my radiator pretty much first thing: a classic case of "too little, too late." I planned to drain the thing and put in more radiator fluid (it was filled almost entirely with water, and it was really cold last night) as soon as I got back from church. But I pulled into the church parking lot, drove about 100 yards, and then heard a pop and watched rather unhappily as a whole lot of steam began to pour out from underneath my hood.
Got a ride home with mom and slid under this heavy blanket of loneliness. Kelly's at the beach, Jr's at the beach, David nearly broke up with me yesterday, Sara's in L.A. I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone about it without sounding like I was trying to make them feel guilty. I cried some, from general stress I guess. But it passed after a while. I helped make lunch, and later dinner, and spent some time with my family. Talked to Taylor on the phone (very briefly), talked to her mother later (who, finally having met David, was full of praise for him), talked to David a while, texted and talked to Chris (Christina), with whom I have not spoken since Zach and Beth's wedding in June. That was really nice. Cleaned my room! I mean, compared to a truly clean room it's still a mess, but by my horribly low standards, it's kind of great. Far better than it was. For instance, I now have all of my sweatshirts (I hope) in one container, rather than two plus the floor. And all of my clothes (excepting those I haven't brought up from the laundry room) are hung up or put away, or in the dirty laundry basket. And... my books are in lots of piles, instead of strewn all across my room.
Got a ride home with mom and slid under this heavy blanket of loneliness. Kelly's at the beach, Jr's at the beach, David nearly broke up with me yesterday, Sara's in L.A. I didn't feel like I could talk to anyone about it without sounding like I was trying to make them feel guilty. I cried some, from general stress I guess. But it passed after a while. I helped make lunch, and later dinner, and spent some time with my family. Talked to Taylor on the phone (very briefly), talked to her mother later (who, finally having met David, was full of praise for him), talked to David a while, texted and talked to Chris (Christina), with whom I have not spoken since Zach and Beth's wedding in June. That was really nice. Cleaned my room! I mean, compared to a truly clean room it's still a mess, but by my horribly low standards, it's kind of great. Far better than it was. For instance, I now have all of my sweatshirts (I hope) in one container, rather than two plus the floor. And all of my clothes (excepting those I haven't brought up from the laundry room) are hung up or put away, or in the dirty laundry basket. And... my books are in lots of piles, instead of strewn all across my room.
Sunday, January 3, 2010
2010: first reflections.
David visited for a few days somewhat before and then a few days after Christmas, around New Year's. Dammit, I'd marry him today if he would have me. But now that I have finally just, just given myself permission to fall in love with him (I mean, let's not rush things--we've only been together two and a half years), he doesn't want to get married anymore. I don't really understand why. He says he's not been the person he wants to be, and I know that when he's feeling bad, low on psychological energy I guess, thinking about this tears him apart. And he's uncertain of everything. He has been thinking about breaking up and if that's what he needs to do then so be it, but why? I don't understand. I feel like this is karmic payback for all the time/times he wanted to get married, and I was too busy being angsty and depressed to commit to even staying with him through the end of the week. We went for a walk today, and I was sure I'd be single by the time we got back to the house. I wasn't, and I'm not, but I've spent a lot of time today fighting off tears. I am ok, but sad.
The fact that I am ok though is an honest-to-God miracle*. My new strategy this new year for dealing with depression is, I guess, not to take it so seriously. I'll still feel sometimes, I am sure, as though life isn't worth the trouble, and everything is too heavy to carry. There will still be days when the air is so thick with despair that I can't breathe. But I am going to try not believing it. Not buying it. Deciding that despair is a lie.
(Resolutions: Be honest. Give yourself permission to be in love, to be angry, afraid, joyful, depressed... to feel, without embarrassment or despair. Do not live out of obligation.)
Tonight we went to my Godmother Susan's** annual Christmas party, and it was really nice. I talked some with my cousin (first cousin once removed, actually) Will, and he wants me to email him some poems. He is going to consider participating in the Friday-poems project I abandoned earlier in the fall. I talked with his kids too, Meghan (Chloe's age--18) and Tyler (15), and that was nice. And another cousin, Lee, was there with her husband Randy and their daughter Bella, who is four and adorable. She is sweet and seems homely at first (to me, anyway), but grows on you quickly. And she has such a forceful personality! I spent a good chunk of the evening reading and singing Christmas carols to her. She's a fun little girl. Not a lot happened. but it was really nice to be there. Nice to see people I haven't seen lately and don't see much. Fast away the old year passes. Happy new year.
*Yeah, no, for real. I am not-quite-continually shocked at the fact that I am not crumpling under the weight of the stress that would/should/could come from saying "no, but really, I want to marry you" to someone that doesn't want the same thing; someone who in point of fact is seriously considering leaving you. Holy crap, how am I still even breathing? But I am. I am still breathing.
**She is so wonderful. And her husband (who I always called "Big Bill" as a child and now do not call anything, because saying "Big Bill" at the age of 23 just seems weird) is so sweet. There are pictures in their house of them when they were in their twenties. There is one taken at the river I think, where everyone is looking at the camera, but Bill is looking at Susan. I think he's looking at her in almost every picture. They were both so beautiful.
But the point of this footnote originally was to mention that she found some pictures today of us together when I was maybe four, on a day when we broke up stale bread and put it into a basket, and went and fed the ducks at Byrd park, and then went to Maymont and pet the goats. They are such a treasure. She gave some of them to me!
And I am still breathing. (!)
The fact that I am ok though is an honest-to-God miracle*. My new strategy this new year for dealing with depression is, I guess, not to take it so seriously. I'll still feel sometimes, I am sure, as though life isn't worth the trouble, and everything is too heavy to carry. There will still be days when the air is so thick with despair that I can't breathe. But I am going to try not believing it. Not buying it. Deciding that despair is a lie.
(Resolutions: Be honest. Give yourself permission to be in love, to be angry, afraid, joyful, depressed... to feel, without embarrassment or despair. Do not live out of obligation.)
Tonight we went to my Godmother Susan's** annual Christmas party, and it was really nice. I talked some with my cousin (first cousin once removed, actually) Will, and he wants me to email him some poems. He is going to consider participating in the Friday-poems project I abandoned earlier in the fall. I talked with his kids too, Meghan (Chloe's age--18) and Tyler (15), and that was nice. And another cousin, Lee, was there with her husband Randy and their daughter Bella, who is four and adorable. She is sweet and seems homely at first (to me, anyway), but grows on you quickly. And she has such a forceful personality! I spent a good chunk of the evening reading and singing Christmas carols to her. She's a fun little girl. Not a lot happened. but it was really nice to be there. Nice to see people I haven't seen lately and don't see much. Fast away the old year passes. Happy new year.
*Yeah, no, for real. I am not-quite-continually shocked at the fact that I am not crumpling under the weight of the stress that would/should/could come from saying "no, but really, I want to marry you" to someone that doesn't want the same thing; someone who in point of fact is seriously considering leaving you. Holy crap, how am I still even breathing? But I am. I am still breathing.
**She is so wonderful. And her husband (who I always called "Big Bill" as a child and now do not call anything, because saying "Big Bill" at the age of 23 just seems weird) is so sweet. There are pictures in their house of them when they were in their twenties. There is one taken at the river I think, where everyone is looking at the camera, but Bill is looking at Susan. I think he's looking at her in almost every picture. They were both so beautiful.
But the point of this footnote originally was to mention that she found some pictures today of us together when I was maybe four, on a day when we broke up stale bread and put it into a basket, and went and fed the ducks at Byrd park, and then went to Maymont and pet the goats. They are such a treasure. She gave some of them to me!
And I am still breathing. (!)
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