I want to say that I am profoundly unhappy, though I don't know that "profound" is the appropriate word. Maybe. I know it will come and go.
Today the Across The Universe cover of "Hey Jude" came on my ipod, and I started to feel all twisted up inside. It reminded me of the time the same song came on in Fran's car in college, just after David had told me that he wasn't going to come home for Christmas and before I knew that I could go visit, and I almost fell apart there in the middle of all my friends who had no idea what was going on. Today I wrote it down in my phone:
I feel twisted up inside like a bent and rusted old pile of scrap metal. We switch so fast--moods changing as quickly as lighting gels in the theater.
It's one of those times where "fake it till you make it" doesn't make anything--it's just fake, fake, fake. Distractions come easily enough, usually, luckily. But otherwise it's just fake and I'm no good at those plastic smiles. Hopefully tomorrow will be better.
Something else I wrote on the way to Arkansas that I've been reminded of several times and have been meaning to put here (sorry if I posted it three days ago or whatever and forgot):
As we drive Westward, rushing on
and on toward Memphis on the river I40,
the kudzu-covered shapes of trees rise
from the earth, crazily and crookedly
like Wild Things,
and watch us as we pass.
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Friday, August 13, 2010
Another thing forgotten yesterday, plus some other things*.
I meant to write (I remember now! I didn't because the computer was shut off when I came in. I think.) about how Miley and I walked last night through a dense mist, and the trees loomed cavernously over the street that runs parallel to the stream along the bottom of our hill, and the lights shone out from the houses like a fairy tale.
Tonight we pulled and jerked and dragged each other along beneath the height of the Perseid shower, but luckily we were protected from its radiance by an overcast, sodium-light sky.
On the upside, I saw two toads in quick succession--the first sat stock-still as Miley ran just over it, and remained so as I picked it up and moved it off of the road. The second I only saw because it jumped somewhat frantically away from Miley as she approached, and she chased it into the tall grass beside the street. Nature vs. nurture, anyone?
*One of the things I most love about myself is how perfectly brilliant I am when it comes to making up titles.
Tonight we pulled and jerked and dragged each other along beneath the height of the Perseid shower, but luckily we were protected from its radiance by an overcast, sodium-light sky.
On the upside, I saw two toads in quick succession--the first sat stock-still as Miley ran just over it, and remained so as I picked it up and moved it off of the road. The second I only saw because it jumped somewhat frantically away from Miley as she approached, and she chased it into the tall grass beside the street. Nature vs. nurture, anyone?
*One of the things I most love about myself is how perfectly brilliant I am when it comes to making up titles.
Thursday, August 12, 2010
Dinner tonight, ohmygooodness.
Peas with lettuce, AND
Homemade shrimp and alligator savory cheesecake. So good.
And no one cares but I meant to say earlier, I hated to run the dishwasher because there were ants in it. Murdered! But I couldn't think how to make them get out. :o/
Other delicious homemade foods today, none of which had anything to do with me; all of which had everything to do with my mother and with Chloe currently having difficulty with solid foods:
delicious juicy citrusy jello
polenta* yummm
*I am horribly offended by the fact that the Firefox dictionary does not recognize the word "polenta." It recognizes "grits," doesn't it?? This is ridiculous.
Homemade shrimp and alligator savory cheesecake. So good.
And no one cares but I meant to say earlier, I hated to run the dishwasher because there were ants in it. Murdered! But I couldn't think how to make them get out. :o/
Other delicious homemade foods today, none of which had anything to do with me; all of which had everything to do with my mother and with Chloe currently having difficulty with solid foods:
delicious juicy citrusy jello
polenta* yummm
*I am horribly offended by the fact that the Firefox dictionary does not recognize the word "polenta." It recognizes "grits," doesn't it?? This is ridiculous.
Thursday
I've been almost utterly unproductive and sleepy for the past few days, and have felt rather sickish today, though I think that last might be largely to do with the fact that I'm taking care of Chloe as she recovers from her wisdom-teeth surgery this morning. It's difficult for me to see her all swollen and drugged up, but I have to say that it's been significantly easier since she took the gauze out of her mouth.
Yesterday I sat around writing--even more than I posted here--and today I'm sitting around reading and making milkshakes, changing ice packs, and delivering hydrocodone every four hours. I have applied for a couple of jobs via craigslist though, so I suppose that's something. Currently listening to the Fellowship of the Ring audiobook, ftw.
Yesterday I sat around writing--even more than I posted here--and today I'm sitting around reading and making milkshakes, changing ice packs, and delivering hydrocodone every four hours. I have applied for a couple of jobs via craigslist though, so I suppose that's something. Currently listening to the Fellowship of the Ring audiobook, ftw.
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
I like watching the puddles gather rain*.
I forgot at least half of what I was going to say because I came in from the rain and got sidetracked writing a never-to-be-sent letter and falling asleep on my notebook, but earlier we had a small surprise (to me) thunderstorm, and I stood outside in it getting wet and thinking about rain and wind and trees and seasons and how everything I freaking do when I'm acting consciously and not out of the heat or frost of emotion (and even some of what I do when I am) is about love. Wanting it, holding it, giving it, reaching for it or pushing it away. It seems to be the sun about which I fitfully orbit.
I went outside to close the car windows wearing the no shoes and the soccer shorts and tank top that seem to have become my uniform of late. I ended up squatting on my heels on our front walk and watching the newly fallen leaves gather tiny rain puddles while the grass and weeds and dirt soaked up the probably last warm storm of the summer. I watched cars drive by with their windows closed and headlights and wipers on in the glorious warm afternoon and not see me. I watched the trees stand planted, bowing their arms and raising their faces in gratitude to the rain. Eventually the raindrops gathered and ran down our street in warm rivers, or lay in small warm puddles in the empty driveway across the street. From there our house seems completely dwarfed by the pines and holly and poplar which tower over it, taller than any others on our block. It's funny to think of so much life happening in so small a space.
I thought also about the ways rain can feel. I mean, today I just wanted to stand in it and listen to the water falling and trees talking, thunder spreading across the sky and wind breathing through the trees, and feel the drops sliding down my face and trickling down my chest, and step on the wet grass and into the warm puddles and rivers. It felt like such a blessing. It reminded me of the feeling of a dam breaking, the feeling of a cleansing flood that I had once upon waking from a real night's sleep after weeks of insomnia. It felt like peace and breathing.
But other times, when I've been cold inside, I have stood in the rain wanting to be washed away, angry that the drops were so gentle. When I've been angry I have hated the peace of the summer rain. The spin put on the world by human emotion can be truly awe-inspiring.
*Blind Melon, "No Rain":
And all I can say is that my life is pretty plain. I like watching the puddles gather rain. And all I can do is just pour some tea for two, and speak my point of view, but it's not sane. I just want someone to say to me, "I'll always be there when you wake." You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today, so stay with me and I'll have it made. And I don't understand why I sleep all day, and I start to complain that there's no rain. And all I can do is read a book to stay awake, and it rips my life away, but it's a great escape...
I went outside to close the car windows wearing the no shoes and the soccer shorts and tank top that seem to have become my uniform of late. I ended up squatting on my heels on our front walk and watching the newly fallen leaves gather tiny rain puddles while the grass and weeds and dirt soaked up the probably last warm storm of the summer. I watched cars drive by with their windows closed and headlights and wipers on in the glorious warm afternoon and not see me. I watched the trees stand planted, bowing their arms and raising their faces in gratitude to the rain. Eventually the raindrops gathered and ran down our street in warm rivers, or lay in small warm puddles in the empty driveway across the street. From there our house seems completely dwarfed by the pines and holly and poplar which tower over it, taller than any others on our block. It's funny to think of so much life happening in so small a space.
I thought also about the ways rain can feel. I mean, today I just wanted to stand in it and listen to the water falling and trees talking, thunder spreading across the sky and wind breathing through the trees, and feel the drops sliding down my face and trickling down my chest, and step on the wet grass and into the warm puddles and rivers. It felt like such a blessing. It reminded me of the feeling of a dam breaking, the feeling of a cleansing flood that I had once upon waking from a real night's sleep after weeks of insomnia. It felt like peace and breathing.
But other times, when I've been cold inside, I have stood in the rain wanting to be washed away, angry that the drops were so gentle. When I've been angry I have hated the peace of the summer rain. The spin put on the world by human emotion can be truly awe-inspiring.
*Blind Melon, "No Rain":
And all I can say is that my life is pretty plain. I like watching the puddles gather rain. And all I can do is just pour some tea for two, and speak my point of view, but it's not sane. I just want someone to say to me, "I'll always be there when you wake." You know I'd like to keep my cheeks dry today, so stay with me and I'll have it made. And I don't understand why I sleep all day, and I start to complain that there's no rain. And all I can do is read a book to stay awake, and it rips my life away, but it's a great escape...
The Bucket List
I cannot wait to live again in a place where there is no television. I can't wait to live in a place where there isn't a dog or cat to run away or shed hair all over my clothes or pee on my bed while I'm away and the house sitter is evidently not around enough. I can't wait to live somewhere where the spoon jar only contains spoons and the fork jar only forks and the knife jar only knives, where the mugs aren't stacked so crazily that they teeter or come crashing down when the cabinet door opens. I can't wait to live somewhere without a yard to mow and without gutters that fill constantly with leaves. I can't wait to someday have a car that's less than ten years old, that runs, and that circulates oil and radiator and possibly even transmission fluid, rather than vomiting them onto the ground. I can't wait to get out of debt. To figure out or stumble into whatever it is that I'm supposed to be doing with my life.
On a scale of 1-15, how selfish am I? That's not a trick question. Pretty selfish, I'm guessing.
On a scale of 1-15, how selfish am I? That's not a trick question. Pretty selfish, I'm guessing.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
At the end of the week
It's funny how you can sometimes curl up in a dark room and feel exposed, or stand miles from the sea and drown in loneliness and bitterness and regret. It's funny how two people--siblings, or lovers, or friends--who should or did or do love each other can be driven so far apart, with no reconciliation in sight. I have no teaching job. I have no relationship with my brother. I am dripping sweat and illogical, unquenchable, idiotic bitterness. I'll see what I can do. Probably it's largely that I am exhausted and haven't been alone in too long and am sick to goddamn death of fighting with Jack, and I don't know what to do to make it stop.
Saturday night I finally stayed at the campsite instead of in our cabin--I had meant to so many times but somehow our cabin became the hangout for everyone ages 25 and younger. And I'm not trying to say that that wasn't pretty awesome the vast majority of the time, but once it's 2 am and everyone is on their way to sleep, the idea of leaving a nice soft bed in an air-conditioned room to walk down to an air mattress on a hot, muggy night sounds a lot less appetizing. After the last large group dinner at Roxie's cabin Larry and I went down to the campsite to set up beds, then back up to my family's cabin to get packed up, and back down to the campsite again. There was some drama with Chloe along the way, because she (understandably, in my opinion) does not like to be the trendsetter with regards to activities, and had become such. So she hid for a while whilst Larry and I and Travis got a poker game together*, and then she came back down to play. Earlier in the day a soda had been spilled on the usual game table and it was swarming with ants, so we played a fair ways away from the main campsites, and assumed that when people went out of the game and left, they were going to bed. Not so my friends! Oh no. I beat Larry at 1:30 am and then, and then back at the air mattresses on the tarp by the warm lake and underneath the hiding and peeping stars, everyone was still awake, and talking and laughing and playing youtube videos on Lenny's iphone and Zyrone's.. whatever phone. So I had that same conversation with myself as always about how I should sleep, with the same result as always--staying up until other people go to sleep.
And around 4:15, they did, and I lay back and stared up past the dark, spare shapes of the tree branches above me and into the stars, and I watched the lightning flash and listened to the thunder boom all around us in the distance, and I did not fall asleep. I always marvel, and did especially outside under no cover, at the slow approach of the dawn. It struck me Sunday morning how inaccurate, at least in my experience, is the commonly used phrase and idea of the dawn "breaking." I have never known dawn to break. It approaches. It breathes itself into the night, slowly, softly, almost imperceptibly. When the dawn comes I always think at first that I am mistaken, and that the night is still the night. But soon there are clearly shapes standing sharper against the darkness, and then presently there are colors oozing back into the world, and the sky is no longer black, but blue. The stars have nearly disappeared.
Possibly because it was the last of a reunion that I actively anticipate for five years at a stretch, that morning seemed inescapably pregnant with symbolism to me. As I finally gave up on sleep and began to stare up into the sky's renewed blueness I noticed that the birds had begun to fly South--some alone, some in twos or threes or fives. I am always struck with a sense of sadness at these signs of summer's end. First the leaves begin to fall, and then the birds fly away, and then later the ladybugs die and the leaves begin to turn. Every year I watch for the first leaves fluttering down, just as I watch for the first butterfly, the first bumblebee, the first lightning bug in spring.
Just as it was becoming truly morning and no longer dawn, Bert (or Uncle Bert or Pup) came out and watched us all sleeping out there, and counted how many of us there were. More than any other night I suppose, especially with the addition of myself and Chloe. He took a picture, and then brought Lil (or Lillian, or Grandma, or Aunt Lil) to see us. It was very sweet. Then I heard someone walking toward me and looked up, and my mother was there. So early! I don't think it could have been later than six or six thirty. She had come to swim, so I walked down to the water with her and took pictures, and then suddenly she saw and pointed out the most complete rainbow I've ever seen in the sky. It was a full arc over the lake, and touched the earth on both sides. It had the feeling of a goodbye blessing. Pup called it a good omen. Larry was the first of those on the mattresses to wake up (not counting myself as I'm fairly certain that I never slept), and eventually he came down to the water to swim, and I got in too. A little while later Pup and Lil came in as well, and swam out to some of the old pine trunks which still break the surface. It was a really beautiful morning.
More rumination on symbolism in nature and farewells:
This evening I finally drove, though only for the last couple of hours before we hit home. It hurt my foot actually, which I sliced open on my way into the lake on Tuesday or so. It closes up when I don't walk on it, and then pulls open again whenever I put weight on it, particularly if I'm not wearing shoes. It doesn't bleed--just hurts a little and feels and looks sort of gross. Anyway, the sun was setting directly behind us as we drove East on 460, a bloody, orangey red that belongs to nothing else. I often forget the way the sun swells and wavers as it slowly climbs rung by rung down the cloud ladder in the Western sky. Tonight it seemed to be swelling and shrinking as we drove, and rising and falling as we climbed up hills and then dipped down behind them. It felt to me as though the sunset was another ending, another goodbye paired with the songbirds and the rainbow.
I challenge anyone around to a sappiness contest.
The lake was hot, and the air was hot, and often wet, and it was all beautiful. The mosquitoes weren't so bad this year. I loved seeing everyone again, especially Travis. Especially Ryan. I loved seeing Larry, but he stressed me out. I loved getting to know people who were little kids last time. (I guess Ryan would have been counted in that group if I hadn't kept in touch with his part of the family over the intervening half-decade.) I love seeing the ways in which people grow and change. Travis (Hoppe) and Juliette have five kids now! Up from three last time. And Travis (Erickson) is helping to raise the sweetest little baby. I just love to see the way everything grows.
*Okay so at the last reunion, five years ago, I was introduced to the game of texas hold 'em. I was truly awful at it. Possibly I was nearly as bad at texas hold 'em as I am at chess. It was with this in mind that I passed on the first game that was played at our cabin the other night. Then, the next night, I decided to give it a try. I stayed in a while, then called Ryan's bluff, put him all in, and lost. My chips were pretty depleted after that and I went out shortly thereafter. The next day I played again and lost to Larry right at the end, then Saturday night, when we all played, I won**. WON, I tell you! For the first time in my life. I'm pretty excited about this. Also, I am a little addicted. Also, I need to get a set of poker chips.
**It was pretty awesome, actually. He kept trying to put me all in because it was late and had been going forever even though we had been upping the blinds every time someone went out (by this point little blind was 10, big blind 20), and I kept turning him down. Finally I did go all in--or rather, by that point, put him all in--on a straight. As it turned out, he had a straight too. Fortunately for me, mine went to a queen. His only went to a Jack. I'm pretty sure that this is because God loves me.
Saturday night I finally stayed at the campsite instead of in our cabin--I had meant to so many times but somehow our cabin became the hangout for everyone ages 25 and younger. And I'm not trying to say that that wasn't pretty awesome the vast majority of the time, but once it's 2 am and everyone is on their way to sleep, the idea of leaving a nice soft bed in an air-conditioned room to walk down to an air mattress on a hot, muggy night sounds a lot less appetizing. After the last large group dinner at Roxie's cabin Larry and I went down to the campsite to set up beds, then back up to my family's cabin to get packed up, and back down to the campsite again. There was some drama with Chloe along the way, because she (understandably, in my opinion) does not like to be the trendsetter with regards to activities, and had become such. So she hid for a while whilst Larry and I and Travis got a poker game together*, and then she came back down to play. Earlier in the day a soda had been spilled on the usual game table and it was swarming with ants, so we played a fair ways away from the main campsites, and assumed that when people went out of the game and left, they were going to bed. Not so my friends! Oh no. I beat Larry at 1:30 am and then, and then back at the air mattresses on the tarp by the warm lake and underneath the hiding and peeping stars, everyone was still awake, and talking and laughing and playing youtube videos on Lenny's iphone and Zyrone's.. whatever phone. So I had that same conversation with myself as always about how I should sleep, with the same result as always--staying up until other people go to sleep.
And around 4:15, they did, and I lay back and stared up past the dark, spare shapes of the tree branches above me and into the stars, and I watched the lightning flash and listened to the thunder boom all around us in the distance, and I did not fall asleep. I always marvel, and did especially outside under no cover, at the slow approach of the dawn. It struck me Sunday morning how inaccurate, at least in my experience, is the commonly used phrase and idea of the dawn "breaking." I have never known dawn to break. It approaches. It breathes itself into the night, slowly, softly, almost imperceptibly. When the dawn comes I always think at first that I am mistaken, and that the night is still the night. But soon there are clearly shapes standing sharper against the darkness, and then presently there are colors oozing back into the world, and the sky is no longer black, but blue. The stars have nearly disappeared.
Possibly because it was the last of a reunion that I actively anticipate for five years at a stretch, that morning seemed inescapably pregnant with symbolism to me. As I finally gave up on sleep and began to stare up into the sky's renewed blueness I noticed that the birds had begun to fly South--some alone, some in twos or threes or fives. I am always struck with a sense of sadness at these signs of summer's end. First the leaves begin to fall, and then the birds fly away, and then later the ladybugs die and the leaves begin to turn. Every year I watch for the first leaves fluttering down, just as I watch for the first butterfly, the first bumblebee, the first lightning bug in spring.
Just as it was becoming truly morning and no longer dawn, Bert (or Uncle Bert or Pup) came out and watched us all sleeping out there, and counted how many of us there were. More than any other night I suppose, especially with the addition of myself and Chloe. He took a picture, and then brought Lil (or Lillian, or Grandma, or Aunt Lil) to see us. It was very sweet. Then I heard someone walking toward me and looked up, and my mother was there. So early! I don't think it could have been later than six or six thirty. She had come to swim, so I walked down to the water with her and took pictures, and then suddenly she saw and pointed out the most complete rainbow I've ever seen in the sky. It was a full arc over the lake, and touched the earth on both sides. It had the feeling of a goodbye blessing. Pup called it a good omen. Larry was the first of those on the mattresses to wake up (not counting myself as I'm fairly certain that I never slept), and eventually he came down to the water to swim, and I got in too. A little while later Pup and Lil came in as well, and swam out to some of the old pine trunks which still break the surface. It was a really beautiful morning.
More rumination on symbolism in nature and farewells:
This evening I finally drove, though only for the last couple of hours before we hit home. It hurt my foot actually, which I sliced open on my way into the lake on Tuesday or so. It closes up when I don't walk on it, and then pulls open again whenever I put weight on it, particularly if I'm not wearing shoes. It doesn't bleed--just hurts a little and feels and looks sort of gross. Anyway, the sun was setting directly behind us as we drove East on 460, a bloody, orangey red that belongs to nothing else. I often forget the way the sun swells and wavers as it slowly climbs rung by rung down the cloud ladder in the Western sky. Tonight it seemed to be swelling and shrinking as we drove, and rising and falling as we climbed up hills and then dipped down behind them. It felt to me as though the sunset was another ending, another goodbye paired with the songbirds and the rainbow.
I challenge anyone around to a sappiness contest.
The lake was hot, and the air was hot, and often wet, and it was all beautiful. The mosquitoes weren't so bad this year. I loved seeing everyone again, especially Travis. Especially Ryan. I loved seeing Larry, but he stressed me out. I loved getting to know people who were little kids last time. (I guess Ryan would have been counted in that group if I hadn't kept in touch with his part of the family over the intervening half-decade.) I love seeing the ways in which people grow and change. Travis (Hoppe) and Juliette have five kids now! Up from three last time. And Travis (Erickson) is helping to raise the sweetest little baby. I just love to see the way everything grows.
*Okay so at the last reunion, five years ago, I was introduced to the game of texas hold 'em. I was truly awful at it. Possibly I was nearly as bad at texas hold 'em as I am at chess. It was with this in mind that I passed on the first game that was played at our cabin the other night. Then, the next night, I decided to give it a try. I stayed in a while, then called Ryan's bluff, put him all in, and lost. My chips were pretty depleted after that and I went out shortly thereafter. The next day I played again and lost to Larry right at the end, then Saturday night, when we all played, I won**. WON, I tell you! For the first time in my life. I'm pretty excited about this. Also, I am a little addicted. Also, I need to get a set of poker chips.
**It was pretty awesome, actually. He kept trying to put me all in because it was late and had been going forever even though we had been upping the blinds every time someone went out (by this point little blind was 10, big blind 20), and I kept turning him down. Finally I did go all in--or rather, by that point, put him all in--on a straight. As it turned out, he had a straight too. Fortunately for me, mine went to a queen. His only went to a Jack. I'm pretty sure that this is because God loves me.
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