The Now and the Not Yet

An encouraging talk

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Fri, 27 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

I got to listen to and have my book signed by Rebecca Skloot, author of The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks.

Rebecca Skloot at the 2010 Texas Book Festival,
Austin, TX.

Here is another pic of her from today. And if you want to see more snippits of her talk, plus questions posed to her, go here.

Alright, today was a better day. I had a working lunch with someone who previously hadn't been that open to me, but I think it was because I wasn't asking her questions. Gah, why did that take so long to learn?! But I learned a lot more and had a really good lunch at a hospital cafeteria. I finished that stupid task by that stupid colleague. But he will get it on 11am. This is what happens when you piss off the workers!

But I'm still upset by the student loan madness. Why should I be surprised that these guys aren't on the up and up? I'm just tired of being burned by bad websites (like J.Crew's, for example. I haven't shopped their site since I can't, and I haven't heard back from two letters. So until I hear from them, I won't ever shop there again.). And I feel humiliated about the money stuff, which is kind of coming out of left field. But I get it--won't go into here, though! Anyway...

So I left work early and I went to this talk/Q & A/book signing event, and it was lovely. It was mobbed with people, and basically a full house. I know my former supervisor was there, but uh..I couldn't find her--the auditorium was huge. Meaning: yay!

So, when Skloot was telling her story--getting kicked out of pre-school for her obstinacy, getting kicked out of her freshman year of high school because was going to what seems like a Montessori-type of high school that she wasn't enrolled in, and how she related how bored she was in school, and how her parents said she all this "creative energy"...

...and how she pursued this story of Henrietta Lacks for a decade--the bells went off! She's gifted! Yeah, I tend to dub everyone as gifted sometimes, but I truly think she is just based on those anecdotes. Usually kids aren't going to skip school to go to another school. She's obviously independent, independent enough to go do that and keep learning and stick on this story for so long. So yeah, it was nice to see another person like me.

And she was a pre-vet student in college and never thought until she took a creative writing class as a foreign language elective (!!!!), that she could be a writer. Sound familiar? I'm glad she chose to get an MFA and chose to write. She talked about how that you probably won't figure out what you're supposed to do with your life in college, that success sometimes takes a meandering route. I'm going to try to recreate a quote that her prof said to her. Basically, he said just because you change a goal doesn't mean that you've failed. As long as you have a new goal, then that's OK. Or something like that. It was a long ass quote. But again, that was comforting to me, as someone who has been on a her own wandering path. It was basically "not all who wander are lost."

She spoke about following your curiosity and passions, which resonated with me. She discussed following up on those "What?!" questions, which is how she finds her writing topics, including the history of HeLa cells. I feel like, again, the heightened curiosity that she has is unique to gifted folks.

Take for instance, the reality of goldfish surgery.

What? Goldfish surgery?!

People actually have their goldfish operated on? How are they able to breath without water? How many people do this? What is the success rate? How did this start? Could I have used that when my 20 goldfish started to get sick?

Questions upon questions upon questions! And then she wrote an article in The New York Times Magazine. So, although I can see that this extra energy she has for intellectual pursuits as giftedness, it doesn't mean that we all couldn't be a little more curious. But when all those bells went off about giftedness, I wanted to tell her, and the audience--"Rebecca is weird! She's gonna be more curious about things than most people!" And it's not just asking questions, but the depth of questions. Read that goldfish surgery story.

But I think it's important to know what this woman is working with: a large drive, natural curiosity, deep sense of independence, and almost laser-like focus. Those things are not normal. Nor are they necessarily better--it's just different. Plus, she was talking to students about how to be successful. Granted, if giftedness was an assurance of success, then this would be a whole other convo. But it's like telling all basketball players they have a chance at the NBA. That involves a little luck, insane talent, and not blowing out your knee (which is still, a little luck). But again, it's not like you can't learn from successful people.

So some of this success has to do with white privilege, which she did not avoid talking about. Near the end of her talk, Skloot talked about one of the major things she learned was about her privilege. For example, she had the privilege to talk to scientists and others who probably would be as open with their answers as they would a black journalist. It made me glad that she could see that and talk about it without feeling uncomfortable or like she had to backpedal or be defensive. It is what it is.

Skloot is also the president of the Henrietta Lacks Foundation, which provides educational grants to the Lacks family and at times, healthcare. She donates a portion of the proceeds of the book and book-related events to the foundation. I think it's great that she didn't just mine a story and then walk away with the money, that she's a lot more involved.

So we got kicked out because there was a bio mid-term being held in the auditorium, which quite fitting since that was Skloot's undergrad major. So I tried to rush to the book signing line. I was somewhere in the middle of the pack. But when I got nearer to the line, one woman--all I remember is heavy makeup and perfume and blond curls and squinty eyes, who was a part of the event asked me,

"If you're wanting to dedicate the book to someone, you should try to write it down on something..." She looked around. "Sorry that there's no paper."

"Well, my name is spelled like [one of the major characters in the book] so I'm sure she knows how to spell it!" I laughed along with the woman as she made her way down the line. I have to say that was actually helpful to tell us things like which page of the book she's sign.

So finally, I make it up there. I wasn't nervous, but I think this is the very first time I've gone to get a book signed. Or the first time in a very long time. I hand Ms. Skloot the book.

"Hiiiii!"

"Hi! I heard that you spell you name like [name of major character's]." She chuckles as she starts to sign my book.

"Yeah, ha! It's true! Well, I really got a lot out of your talk, so thanks so much for coming to talk to us. I'm applying to grad programs for creative non-fiction, so as an ex-pre-med, your talk really resonated with me."

"Oh, that's great! I knew that someone out there would get it."

"Yes! I felt like, 'oh wow she's speaking to me! Thank you!"

"That's great! Bye!"

I walked quickly cuz I wanted to get the shuttle bus. I missed it, but it was a lovely, cold, damp, foggy evening. And then I came home, watch another GOP debate, and now I'm here.

I think that was everything? No, not really, but the talk was a firm reminder that the writing thing is what I want to do, and it's nice to see Skloot as sort of me, seemingly years ahead. I still haven't read the whole book, but I plan to this weekend. Along with talk of privilege and giftedness and curiosity and all that, it is a fascinating, important story that is well-written. At the end of the day, it's actually hard to have all of that in one piece of work.

But even then, you still have to get comfortable with marketing yourself. "Writing is an art. Publishing is a business," Skloot said. And she told us about how she joined writing organizations, networked, did book reviews to build up her bio...all good tips! It's really hard to do this writing life when I'm working (although people do! I'm just not focused enough to be multi-tasking about it), which is why I look forward to being more immersed in the writing world starting this fall. It's kinda weird to think that in about six weeks, my life will change, no matter if I get into grad school or not. But I do hope all this work I did in school was worth something.

Now all I have to do is find what actually makes me happy, go do that, and then, I'll be set. :-)

The hard lumps of hump day.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Why am I not at the bottom of a wine bottle right now? Oh that costs money...

Image via Wikipedia

So yeah, today sucked.

Unexpected traffic jam because of "utility work". Lanes merging. Is there anyway we can put America at work after 10am?

This traffic made me late for my annual Pap smear and pelvic exam. My new OB/GYN was rough and I was sore. I have to say, I miss the gentler touch of my internist.

Then the banking/student loan drama. The website that my student loan company is not good at math or at taking cancellations of when I cancel a payment. They think I've paid through May. They are idiots. So they put through a payment that I had canceled today. So then bringing my bank into it, the fraud dept is getting involved, etc. Now I just have to wait if this money will be returned or not. I don't think it will be. But they are gonna get my money back. And I will never pay with them online every again.

So I felt frustrated--overly palpated and drained of money I didn't have. Then, I got a task at work and the douchebag colleague told me something like this "There'll be a lot of questions that will come up at the beginning, but you should just try to figure them out yourself."

OH. HELL. NO.

So I emailed him and told him I HAVE QUESTIONS! And you will answer them. They weren't hard. But here he comes into my room, YELLING AT ME. No. No. No. No. NO. I told him to take a deep breath and argued, successfully, in him answering my questions. I only had three. He didn't label the work well, and he wanted me to just figure it out, because he had no time. But he had time to yell at me? Yeah...by the time he left, though? He was smiling and quiet.

I felt so good for standing up for myself. I got a confrontation high! My mom was right. I'd be a great lawyer. I'd have to be a trial lawyer, though (like everyone else).

Anyway, I left work and had my eyes examined. I love my eye doctor. He's apparently pretty amazing, because when I said I don't know if I'll be back in a year, and if I could have a referral, he said, yeah, I've lectured in almost every state in the country. Hot damn, man. He's just a warm, lovely, middle aged, white guy. A real grown-up. I love all the staff there, from the receptionist to the PA...love.

And then I walked to the shuttle bus, because it was after 5pm at this point, and it was so tripped out, because of my dilation. It was like having long exposure eyesight. I became very near-sighted. I had to put on shades on the bus because it was just overwhelming me. I went to the pharmacy, returned some cream that made me break out, got a prescription filled...I know I looked like a druggie or a fucking weirdo.

I listened to Slowdive while I was on the bus and walking home...OMG, it was the closest to feeling drugged out in a while. All the lights just blurring and starring...man. I could go on and on about listening to shoegazing music while your eyes are dilated with sunglasses on at night...but I'm legal obligated not to do so. But God. That was weird and fun. Not fun was trying not to fall on black ice (like one of my friends did today. I hope she's OK! Apparently it was a bad fall. Ugh).

And now, my eyes have finally returned to normal. I barely ate today because of all the stress. I kinda made up for it, but I probably did eat less than I should. But tomorrow is another day. I have a working lunch and an event on the other campus to see Rebecca Skloot. I've only read 70 pages of her book. Fail. But it's getting signed! It'll still be read. There's some other book gathering next week, so I will try to go to that.

Can Friday at 5pm come soon? At least I finally don't feel so exhausted from grad school apps. I'm just...bored? And broke. But I have so much to read. Ugh.

Anyway, again, sorry about the silence, but I was kind of having a shit week, which has continued, but I might have to try to be more proactive about how my days ago. Even though this day sucked, I never once felt like, "Why me?" It was more like, "this day is horrible! Horrible luck today!" I sound like...a happy person. Meaning delusional. It works, and well, with the shit sleep I still get, it's nice to just brush the dust off your shoulders and walk away from the wreckage that was your day.

Meanwhile, please check out my tumblr. Like it on Facebook. Tell friends if you like it! I really like it. It's slow going, in terms of followers. I just have to keep on, keepin' on. If you have a tumblr, let me know so I can follow you.

Alright, time to watch TV. And not read. Fail.

People

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sun, 22 Jan 2012 21:03:00 +0000

...people who need people...

Hey folks, sorry I've been MIA. I haven't had a lot to say--life's been kind of boring and empty lately, which is fine. Who needs the drama?

It shouldn't mean that I shouldn't write. I plan on writing a lot more, but just not here. Remember Writing as a Way of Healing? I really think this is the time to plunge into that book and, well, get healthy and get better at writing. I've been so tired post-grad school apps, and I've been enjoying sleeping as much as I want, especially since the weekend has been a snowy and cold one. It looks pretty outside, but it's not inviting me to leave my house, like to go see the movie Red Tails. I somehow hurt my right foot--probably from too much boot-wearing. So I'd rather the snow melt a bit so I won't have to be walking around in that melty slush. We're at 32 degrees and rising.

Anyway, people. This past week, I've had a couple of new people step into my life and become really wonderful new friends. And I am realizing that I really like, prefer, instant connections, which is not how humanity works. But I'm grateful, either way. It's just something I have to work on, especially when the opposite happens--when your relationship with someone barely moves in intimacy over years. It might make sense to reel back my openness and reciprocate what I'm given so I don't go crazy and just cut people out.

Ahem.

And while I haven't been writing, I have been thinking about people, and the enormity of what I'm doing and have done. I basically have torn down most of my house, to the foundation--mainly the church and my own family of origin--estranged until further notice. I realize that my not fitting anywhere which feels very acute right now has to do with that demolition. I forget that this is really scary stuff, that it's a little unnatural to leave what you know and try to find another house, another foundation, another country altogether. There's a lot of pain that comes with that. And fear, too. This is probably my last winter in Chicago, for example. I'm kind of scared to leave the comforts of my very familiar life. I'm gonna have to start driving again. Meet new people. Figure out what my new foundation is. Is it writing? It doesn't really feel like it.

I do think I've figured out some things, though, through those two friends I've had great convos with this week. I do like talking about religion and God, even if the practice of it really seems to grate on me. I do like talking about beauty (abstractly, but also nail polish!). I'm really starting to dig astrology. I still like talking about mental health. I guess I do have some obsessions. And for my writing, I have to think about these things--it's easier to write what you're passionate about.

So I guess, post-everything, it's been good to sit and reflect, and then make some new choices. I'm trying not to regret former choices of friends, lovers, etc, because I was true of where I was at at the time. Instead, I can try to trust that I have better informed tastes in people now, and I can trust that I can find other like-minded people. AND I can trust that not everyone will get everything about me, and vice versa. That one is actually really tough to swallow and not internalize. It just means that I have have a constellation of people in my life, again.

And yet, I really don't want to leave the house for that, or to find someone who would get most things. Oh, the sad irony. :-P But eventually, like with most things, it'll become a necessity to find trustworthy people again. I know that I have to focus on myself first.

But again, it makes sense. I'm still realizing that I'm beat up and trusting folks will take a lot of time. So I just need to luxuriate in some time and heal...and write about the wounds--just not here. I've done enough of that!

Phew, all that to say, I'll try to keep writing here. But I feel kinda boring. I'm just going to try to get into the routine of reading and writing everyday. Right now, I've finally started reading The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot, who I will try to meet on Friday, since she's coming to my work! It's not been fun reading--but it's important reading. And, as a writer, I'm really amazed at the amount of detail in the stories, and I'm not that far into the book. I know that this being non-fiction, this took tons of interviewing to get the story right. Blah, exactly why I was afraid of writing in the first place. But speaking of obsessions, Skloot had to been obsessed about this because the story had been so far buried. And it's that will fuel you through a decade's long process of writing a book. I'll keep you posted on how I find the book!

I need to end this meandering piece with some Babs. I've never watched Funny Girl, but I think I might need to after listening to this song all the way through for the first time. The lyrics seem really appropriate, eh?

Living in a dream

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Wed, 18 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

I feel weird writing about this, which means I should write about it.

Image by valter venturelli via Flickr

So there is a fascinating interview in GQ with Michelle Williams. Wow. The transparency, despite her misgivings and hesitancy about it is amazing. So go read it, and then come back, OK? Cuz I'm about to spoil it to death--well, because the part I want to talk about is near the end.

OK, so I'm pulling a huge quote, which is the most compelling to me, but I think it's worth reading the interview, because she's just an interesting person. And for some reason--even though I hated her in Dawson's Creek, and because I adored her in Blue Valentine--I like her, at least this person conveyed in the article.

There is a question I have been wanting to understand the answer to, but have been feeling that I simply can't ask. Eventually I just ask it anyway:

Do you think there was a part of you that imagined the two of you would somehow end up together?

Immediately, I wish that I hadn't. The look on her face—a kind of juddering visceral alarm at what has been said...I don't wish to see that look many more times in my life. "That would make me way too sad to answer," she says quickly, and I hurriedly begin another question, about something completely different, hoping that if I say it fast enough these new words will chase the old words away from where they are hanging in the air between us, and maybe she will let me pretend that it was something I never said.

"No, no," she says, and I can see the tears forming, and I think she means that she doesn't want to answer any more questions about anything. I mutter some kind of apology under my breath.

But, even now, I'm wrong about everything. Mostly she is just trying to stop my new question. She has something to tell me.

"No," she says. "I said it would make me too sad to answer but it's also..."—and she nods even as her voice breaks once more with tears—"...one of my favorite things to imagine." And through the tears, a beaming, almost beatific smile stretches room-wide across her face. "It's actually one of my favorite places to visit."

*swoon*

I swoon because I'm a reluctant but hopeless romantic. Narrowly, I feel like I so get this emotion, in miniature, this happy/sad/joy/sorrow. I'm not sure how all of that can be there at once. But yes, I get the grief part--not the sharing a life and a kid with a guy part.

The love part, though...that's what I'm going to awkwardly talk about. So imagine me 20 years younger, that would help me embody how clumsy this will be. I have no idea what will come out of my mouth, because it's really hard to improve on how Williams said that.

But boy, am I glad she said it, just for my sake. As I walk along grief's shores, I feel like she's waded all the way through that river. All I can do is just dip my toe and feel how cold it is. So narrowly, yeah, there's someone I wish that I'd find my way back to...someday...and it's weird how death, for me, would make that so much harder to do. I don't wish him dead, though--no way.

But a little more broadly, I did think about if I did see my friend who died in 2009 and wonder what it would've been like. I did that a lot. And it was so comforting. It's like a dream world that I could live in, resolve things, love better. Oh, thinking about it now makes me sad and lost all over again.

The problem with moving on, from any sort of broken relationship--broader still now--is that if death is the only door I can't close, then I'm the one who has to close the door. And I have closed, or have had closed, many doors. I don't visit the worlds where my parents accept me for me--my imagination is strong, but not titanium strength. I don't visit worlds where I am reunited with old friends, whether they fell out of touch or whether I was rejected, or I rejected them. A lot of times, deep pain and loss closes these doors to these otherworlds for me.

It's weird that some celebrity almost (almost almost almost) gave me liberty to be OK with that one door still opened. I hate that it's open--it creates a draft, I feel cold, all I see is snow...I dunno who I am now would be found by the one I keep reaching out to from back then. It's frustrating. When is it being open too long? It's not like I can't get out of bed or deal with life because of this. It's just this faint possibility. And I'm stubborn and unrelenting, like winds off Lake Michigan. I'm not sure when I should stop blowing...

I don't know when I should stop visiting. I know it's because life is very empty and silent right now. There isn't much joy. There isn't much of anything. Just waiting. Annoyance.

And shame. Did I really just have my life peak at 22 and just...start to wither prematurely? And I mean that with love, solely. I think I keep coming back to the year 2000 because I want answers about what happened and why 2012 looks so bleak--yes, even with the promise of grad school. But there are no answers.

All I know is that there were two weeks in my life that were amazing. And I keep trying to stretch out time there, like it's taffy, or some super long stretchy rubber band. And now, I just feel old, even more stubborn, but I'm patiently trying to tell the 22 year old me, "Look elsewhere." But I don't want to.

No one makes me want to...

So even though the circumstances as to why I feel some sort of kinship with a Hollywood actress--outside of any of her roles--aren't very similar, I am glad read that interview today. It was of surprising solace. It helps me chip away at the ice that surrounds this dream world. It helps to loosen and free the salt water trapped below. Michelle seems to have already found hers, and I hope that if I keep chipping at it, I'll find mine. And what's floating there, like a broken off glacier...is this massive feeling, one that I think Michelle Williams knows well, no matter how irrational, and no matter how much you may want counter this with logic and reason...it's something I haven't allowed myself to even look at, let alone grasp or wrestle with...

"What does it feel like to lose the love of your life?"

A hero's death.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Tue, 17 Jan 2012 04:00:00 +0000

Sorry I didn't write on Sunday, I had nothing to say...

...except that I am tired and not sleeping well. Being done with grad school apps is awesome, now my body and mind are recovering. Slowly.

And now, I'm upset because one of my nerd heroes (whose name I can't really speak, but he's a famous physician)...that I went to hear at our MLK celebration at work...is a staunch conservative. Too bad he's brilliant, and his ideas about how to make it in America...well, it's from the perspective of someone who had a dogged mother and was nerdy. And, that's not normal. By the end of the talk, where he goes on and on about morals and values and pulling the Bible from schools and having In God We Trust on the money and the Founding Fathers (which, by the way, a lot of them were Freemasons and you know, thought slavery was way OK)...blah blah blah blah BLAH...I didn't give him a standing O. I sat and scowled. I just wanted to run and cry that this dude, that I subliminally looked up to, was so dumb about how life works.

And not to say that faith and family aren't important. But it's not a panacea for our social ills. I think what MLK was fighting for, and what I want to fight for, is that black folks and other people of color will not have to be overachievers to gain respect. They can be themselves--nerds, normal, underachievers, and whatever else in between--just like white people. The privilege to be yourself, instead of having to prove to dominant culture that you're OK by going above and beyond all the time...that's what I want. My inherent worth comes from my existence as a human being, and that's it. Not from even being a "good" person, although I want to and try to be one. There are a lot of assholes that are successful. It'd be nice to just...be. But again, that doesn't mean we can't pursue justice.

And that was what was missing from the talk today--justice, making things right. And not just for me, but for all. Personal success is usually a community effort, and yes, some of that deals with personal choice, which had a lot to do with this man's talk today. But most people are not nerds, and to expect everyone to be nerds is not, um, smart? Yeah. The exception is not the rule.

Anyway, I feel like a lot of this is generationally driven. The applause in the room wasn't resounding. And for my workplace, it just seemed waaaay right-wing and out of place. I think my generation and younger will not subscribe to Jesus saving us + bootstrapping. It will take a community effort--it always does. Whether God has anything to do with it...I don't know. But I feel sad that someone so scholarly can be so narrow-minded about the complexity of life in America. If it was so easy to figure out, don't you think we would've done it already?

So there will always people who will be successful, despite their circumstances--the resilient ones. But we're not all resilient. And that's OK. It's because we need each other, that's all. TV isn't going to die anytime soon and we won't become some literary society either. So. Now what?

There will still be a lot of people who do nothing and get something--and I sure as hell don't mean living on welfare. And that's unfair. It's privileged. And that's not going away either.

I guess, for me, I'd rather be trying to tear down structures that prevent people from succeeding. And he can challenge people to do for themselves. I actually believe it's both, not either/or. But today, a hero died in my eyes. He spewed out the same shit that conservatives of lighter hues spew at him and he believes it, like how black boys are in school--all anecdotal by the way--and yet, there was a recent study that talked about how black boys, in preschool, are punished more severely that white boys. How do you overcome that at age four, when the fix is in so early? And this isn't to say anyone is a victim, but when you're hopefully doing your best, and you keep hitting walls, can just praying them away help? Is that what the Civil Rights movement is about?

Anyway, this is in no way like some deep exposition about race and equality in America. That would take years, and there are tons of good books out there, like Sister Citizen by Melissa Harris Perry. It's just my reaction to hearing some really misguided, hurtful things from someone I used to admire. And for his massive brain power, I wish he gave a more nuanced point of view about how race in America plays out. I know too much. I know so little. And I'm upset that he can be so naive about life. And I'm not asking for a monolith of thought here, but you can be victimized and take that into consideration about where you are. It just doesn't have to define you. But we need to name things properly first. If you can't identify the problem, then the solution cannot be found either...Lord, I need to move on from this...

But what am I going to do about this? I'm actually hoping that by being an author, black and female, that does something. The journalist that was interviewing him--who might have been glaring back at me when I didn't stand up and cheer--I'd love to be in her position. My point of view is weird and hybridized (OMG that's a word), and I can only speak for myself. But I also hope that my added voice, on a national level, would start to change people's minds...even hearts.

So for now, I do feel pressed to do some charity work...soon...but I don't know what. I feel like it'd have to be with black folks and health, maybe even mental health. But as I left the auditorium today, even though my kid heart is a little broken up, I'm more emboldened to stand for justice. I just wonder what it will look like for me, from now, going forward.

I hope, you too, were thinking about that today on your day off, no matter your color. "Liberty and justice for all" is still worth fighting for.

And now to watch the South Carolina GOP debate...boy...I think I need a drink.

Celebration dampened

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 14 Jan 2012 16:00:00 +0000

I'm done with my grad school apps. Yay.

Image via Wikipedia

I would've written this last night but I felt like a dead body that had been stepped over one too many times. There's this book by Henri Nouwen that I feel like I need to read again, Reaching Out, which has a lot to do with solitude, but also how from that solitude, you're able to reach out and make connections with folks--if I remember that correctly.

It's funny how the big things don't make me teary; it's the slights and subtle rejections. And it happened twice yesterday, but they felt profound because both times, I was sharing about myself--not oversharing--and both times, I felt like the people I was sharing with didn't give even half a fuck about what I was saying and proceeded with their own conversations.

I really don't like when my gut is right about people, from the jump, for whatever reasons. But that's what I had, a gut reaction of revulsion from both groups of people. I said on Twitter last night, without any response, of course, that I probably belong to .1% of the world, which is seven million people. I should make that more like um...0.0000001%--maybe 700. That's pushing it, since I haven't met all people, but the more I actively know myself and like myself, the more it seems I'm not connecting with folks. And that this has become some issue--or maybe the issue was there all along and I didn't see it until I left church--is really worrisome and bothersome...

But I think the rub is that I never really had a group to belong to, really. I belong to everyone and no one and individuals. Even when I was little, I belonged to individual people, not some greater group of people. And I wonder if this is some gifted trait, stemming from the fact I get so bored easily and am curious about everyone. If I pledge allegiance to one group, at any time, then I have to become an expert on it. And I'm not expert enough, really. Jill of all people...

Yet this is the way life is. I don't think I will find my tribe or posse. I don't think they ever existed. If they do, then we would pledge allegiance to not pledging allegiances, and revel in that. The two guys that I dated seriously, I always felt like they belonged to the world and not to me, and I guess, I belong to the world, too, but not to anyone--thus the attraction! Life as a floater sucks, and to not take to heart someone ignoring what you share from your heart...I think that's impossible, besides that people, at least Americans, tend to be pretty self-absorbed--and I'm American too (I guess?)...and that's how it is. This culture isn't suddenly going to learn how to listen better or stop cyberbullying or being more benevolent to people different than them.

Anyway, all of that ended up making my completion of applications very anti-climatic, besides that now I'm still concerned about how I will take care of myself during grad school, and the idea of staying another year in a job I don't feel well appreciated or well-suited for is soul-crushing. And, there's not anyone that I can really share that joy with (again, everyone is off doing their own thing). It's totally not paying off for me to reach out to people in their time of need when I'm needier.

Sooooo, what next? Winter is a great time for meditation and withdrawing inward. And, as I have bemoaned, I have a lot of reading and writing to work through. So even though I'm going to brunch today, with my one and only Chicago friend, I'm pretty much am going to have to say "fuck people" and continue to take care of and parent myself.

And one way of doing that is to figure out how to get making music back in my life this year. I had my piano career cut short by my mentally ill father, which still feels like someone just hacked off my perfectly good arm, and piano was always a place of solace for me. It'd be nice to have my own weighted keyboard one day and take lessons. I really need to make that a goal, because classical music especially, learning it and playing it--it's like math and art at the same time, so both sides of my brain can be happy.

And, I'm going to be more handy with my camera this year, too. Yesterday, while walking to the bus stop, I took some pictures of the new snow on the ground, but of course--snow mainly in the trees. Lovely stuff, even though it was horribly cold. My down comforter coat and long underwear made it a lot more tolerable.

And, with my job, there's this series call Managing Your Career. We met for the first time yesterday, and I have some homework to do, like getting back to one thing I used to do but haven't done in a while--like playing piano! This was some performance excellence goal I have at work, but then it's turning out to be really helpful. And that it's free is pretty awesome. So at least work is being worked on.

And...yeah, since August, I've been grinding on applications, and myself, so...I definitely am devoting the rest of this month (if not longer) to rest and doing what I want to do. I think for now, that means going back to bed and catching up on the sleep that sadness stole, before my groceries arrive.

I'll leave you with this Goldfrapp song that keeps playing in my head, from their Seventh Tree album--"Some People." Here's the refrain that gets me:

You know itYou owe it to yourselfYou won't let it make you madIt's already crazy

And what you thought you lost was just mislaidAll the poems written in your skin

Funny--one of the conversations that pissed me off yesterday was about therapy. I don't miss my therapist, though. As I heard Oprah say, when you come to place where you've learned all that you can, it's time to move on. I don't want another therapist,...well, not here and not yet. Telling your life's woes is exhausting I just want people to not be shitheads, which is asking for a lot. Or I don't want shitheads being so annoying and draining in my life. But as the lyrics go, I'm not going to let it make me mad, because it's already crazy. But I do have to sift through more rubble, which is where reading and writing come in. I'm not sure if I could do this in any other space besides alone and shielded from that shitty hostility...it's a tough prize to win, and a tough way to win it...

Four favorite snow songs

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Fri, 13 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Welcome back, Old Man Winter!

Image by clickclique via Flickr

Today (Wednesday) was our first big snow in Chicago and it might be still coming down. I love walking in fresh snow, and when I was leaving work tonight, I thought, "Ah, now I feel normal. This is winter." I might've, maybe, missed the snow. I will not miss the windchill, though...which reminds me. I must find my long underwear.

So the first song that pops into my mind when it's the first snow is Bjork's "Aurora" from the album Vespertine. It starts out with footsteps in the snow. I love it!

Actually, the whole album is winterlike. I felt like she had said that this album should be listened to while drinking a hot drink in a warm home or something like that...Whatever, it's an awesome album.

The next song, well, if you've been reading this blog a while, you'll know. It's "Snow Day" from Matt Pond PA.

This is from the Winter Songs EP. And the whole EP is lovely. I've talked about them at length before, so just go to the Lijit search bar, here on the lefthand side if you're on the blog right now, and search "Matt Pond PA."

Another song that is sort of a holiday song, "Just Like Christmas" by Low:

I just like sleigh bells. And this is the most upbeat that I've heard Low be in my life. Like they are sprinting. I went to see them once at the Metro. They are so mellow, I almost fell asleep standing up.

Last, for now, is Kate Bush's new album, 50 Words for Snow. I. love. this. album. She is so out there, in her own little Kate Bush world (and yes, she's incredibly gifted. The title track...she makes up all these words and terms! her imaginational overexcitability reminds me of Bjork's...such a vast imagination), but she has the world of snow down pat, especially first snow. Here is "Snowflake":

What is first snow like? If you live or have lived in a large city, you notice that the cacophonous hustle and bustles is dampened, slowed down to a hush. That hush is so rare, for me, it takes my breath away and draws me into meditation. Even when everyone was getting on the bus, besides my stupid seatmate who decided to crack open an Icehouse beer with his many packages on his lap, there was a quiet. Traffic isn't as loud. Even though walking is louder, it's a louder quiet, with the crunch-crunch-crunch-crunch that your feet make (like the beginning of "Aurora"). And, I just read from the wikipedia that this is exactly what she wanted to convey in this song. Genius.

And if you've never experienced that, I think you must, just once....fresh snow, a walk in it, for five minutes. You might stay longer than that...

The world is so loud. Keep falling. I'll find you.

Do you have any favorite winter or snow songs? I'd love to hear them! Please share them in the comments.

Warm weather and remembrance

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Thu, 12 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Winter is coming...

Image via Wikipedia

Finally. I think that the warm weather has been messing with my head. I've been missing Birmingham, AL a lot, which is weird, because I don't really miss it. But because it's been so warm, I'm remembering winters in Alabama. They are relatively mild, where I don't remember having a hat, scarf, or gloves (OK maybe gloves, but not hat or scarf).

I've worn a blazer--velvet--for the past two days, and I felt rather collegiate and more of myself. I don't get to wear blazers often, either, because fall here isn't very subtle. Sometimes it goes from hot to cold. Maybe I wasn't paying attention this fall, when it was clear, crisp and 50 degrees.

And now, a big snow--well, big is more than a couple of inches...more like four to eight inches--is coming tonight. I am almost looking forward to it, because with the weather today, and working on this research about kids with developmental delays, I've missed my brother a lot. I was thinking about him as a little kid and how cute he was, with these little cute, tan mittens that he eventually lost. I missed how he used to be, and, the theme of appreciating someone while they are around crops up again.

And that kid, who was really loving and warm and huggy...is dead.

He was killed by my parents' neverending obsession with themselves and with his behaviors, and my dad's untreated mental illness. I wish I could've protected him, but his personality was unraveling even before I left for college. There really was nothing I could do. At times, over the past few years, I've been a remote social worker for him and my mother, and I wish I could do more, but seeing that I myself don't have a social worker for my life...I have to take care of myself first.

It's that whole idea from the airplane safety procedures for emergencies, putting an oxygen mask on your face before you help someone else. It's older sib guilt, and I haven't felt this in years. It's probably because a friend of mine's bf has gone home to help his fam for a few months. He's like a saint! I want to do that, but at the same time my mom has only come to visit me once, for my college graduation, on the way to hang out with her friend in Iowa. I've lived her since 1997. She came in 2004.

So. Yeah. Complicated! I'd love to be the Joseph of my family and redeem them--find my dad and force him to take meds and get therapy, etc. OK, most of my family. My mom is a lost cause. She should be fine on paper, but I don't get what wounded her that she pushes us away.

Anyway, it's really unfun to grieve things that I can't change, but most of all, what makes me teary is that my little brother had so much potential. I think he could've kept some of his innocence, but he's so misunderstood, so angry, and doesn't have enough cognition to really work through what he saw while our family fell apart. I'm sorry that he had to see his father arrested. I'm sorry that his father treated him like a pal more than a son. I'm sorry that my mom just tolerates him.

I hope he finds someone who gets him and treats him with compassion. Even though I'm that person, I can be a better big sister. I need to resolve to call him more.

So yeah--I've been mushy. It's just been a shit start of the year, with being sick and having epiphanies. But since he's been on my mind, Michael, I thought I'd share. Writer's disclaimer.

Well, I need to go to bed. By the time you read this, I'll be on my way in the snow to attend a departmental breakfast to shoot the shit. And by breakfast, we mean coffee, bagels and donuts. Like these mf'ers couldn't shell out for some eggs? Come on...

Ahem. Good night.
d*

I Forgot Myself: Rediscovering Giftedness in Adulthood #gtchat #gifted

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Wed, 11 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Here's my non-fiction writing sample that I used for grad school applications...

Image via Wikipedia

The Three-Ring Concept of Giftedness

Ta-da! http://bit.ly/xKp6qb <---My writing sample/essay on giftedness

And already, I can tell that I need to edit this again (a work is never done, just due, and I'm misquoting a famous author), but I'll do that later, like next month. But this is a major edit of the paper I wrote in the summer 2010. I think I could easily write a book about this, since I still don't think there's enough for gifted adults.

This work comes from the idea that learning to love yourself for who you are is a priceless gift. When you realize that you've been on this self-erasing mission, along with others trying to make you into someone who can be controlled, and then you realize that there's a better, healthier way. But it comes from self-awareness first. I couldn't've gone on this journey without my friend Annie, a 4th grade gifted teacher, who told me to read Living with Intensity, which was a book she was reading for her Masters in Gifted Education coursework, which she is now very close to completing. The #gtchat hashtag has folks who are gifted parents, advocates, and educators, and it represent the meeting of minds in a chat on Fridays. A few of them are friends who also helped in the self-awareness and self-acceptance journey I was on.

I actually posted this today because another friend online has a gifted son, who has had trouble in school. And it's because he's freaking bored, like I am at work! It never ends, really. You just learn how to cope. So I hope he and his mom read this and get an idea that he's OK. If I had heard that at age 13, I don't think this blog would exist...I'd be off doing some amazing things!

Anyway, spread the paper around, please. Maybe one day I can get it published. I think that should be a goal for this year. There are other links below, including one by Deborah Mersino--I know her! She leads the #gtchat on Twitter that I just mentioned.

So there you have it. Happy reading!

And then the tears came.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Tue, 10 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Nothing like a cathartic cry...and they are usually unscheduled.

Image by lilnerdette via Flickr

Random photo I took at the lake...

Today, I took a mental health day, although it involved going to the GI doctor. I get to have both a colonoscopy and an endoscopy later on. I feel like an old person, and these procedures are scaring me more than surgery--since it's exploratory...meaning, ugh, cancer, which is the worst case scenario. I'd be OK with a bleeping hemorrhoid. But I'm young, and I don't eat terrible. I just don't eat well.

(here we go again, with Zemanta and its really gross pictures of medical procedures and diseases...blech. Please stop this!)

So I plan on putting my sedated ass (har har) in a cab and going home. Unless I really have to ask someone to take me home, which I'd rather not, since it's a short list. But I think I can do this on the 20th. Thank God for health insurance. But I came home worried, wondering how I can improve my health from two stress-related diseases. The good thing is that there's something I can do about stress, although this stuff is from years past. Those two procedures will be a PIA, literally.

But I woke up today feeling emotionally drained. Maybe more like burdened. If I had to sum up in one word (maybe three), what I've gone through, it's been rejection and neglect. And you can't really outrun that stuff. When I got kicked out of school because I hadn't been able to pay the rest of my tuition, I joked that most institutions in my life had rejected me--family, church, school, even my bank was being horrible. And I can add to that list, many times over.

So I stand, amazed, that with all of that, that I'm still here at all, and that I haven't had the time or space or level of comfort to really let loose and cry about that--because it sucks! But when everyone (except my last therapist), including me, expects me to just "handle it"--that's ridiculous. I know, for the most part, people, long term, don't want to be bothered, or don't know what to do with those sort of hidden wounds. I wouldn't be here if people, short term, didn't care just a little bit. I will always be grateful for those people.

But when these folks are in your life, short-term, it's hard not to take it personally, that you aren't worth having someone walk through the dark parts. And then you think you're permanently messed up. But it's more like that you've been through hell and back, many times, and you're still in one piece--you're made of human titanium. And that's something to be proud about, not something to be ashamed about.

And, I hope, the rejection season is over, because I'm not picking many folks who were unreliable, nor am I believing in fairy tales that if I pick some certain religion, the people will be inherently nicer and kinder. Ah, and so much of this rejection is connected to race, it's almost unfathomable. But it's also comforting--that completely makes sense.

I don't think today was able to redeem 20 years of rejection in tears--I don't think there are enough tears--but that essay I had to write for those two other schools, where I was brought back to my six year old self, who was really happy and comfortable with herself...it's probably a godsend that I had to create this second essay since I was reminded that I'm still her, that she's at my core. And finding out about my friend who died and incorporating him into my other essay (which I will post here later), was also a godsend. I was reminded that--hey, you can count on one hand how many people who got you and appreciated you, but they did! And with seven billion people in the world, others will, too.

Image by lilnerdette via Flickr

Chicago skyline from the north

Anyway, I hope more tears come. I feel better, but not necessarily whole. This all was triggered by a convo I had with a friend last night, where I said no one has visited me outright since I moved to Chicago. It's always on the way to somewhere, or as a secondary or tertiary priority.My own mother only came when I graduated college, almost 8 years ago, and it was on the way to visit with her friend in Iowa for a week. I've been here since 1997, so that fact alone just crushed me.

But thank God for Twitter! Otherwise, I think I would've been really crushed (the friend I was writing was from Twitter). I really don't want to write about all the rejection, because it's really horrible, but I know I need to--partly to heal in triumph, but also just to document it. I think when people read it, they will lose their minds. I don't even remember all of it, but I think if it's just told, as matter-of-factly, one right after another, I myself will wonder how I endured. My faith helped a lot, in the beginning, and now...I think it's just me being incredibly stubborn and vengeful--

I'm. not. going. fucking. anywhere. Every breath I take is a defiant one.

OK, also, besides the mind-losing (as much as I enjoy making people lose their minds with my story), I do hope it encourages people to not drop out from life or kill themselves. I still don't know why I wake up everyday--it's not for my job! Ha! It's not even for the chance at grad school. Writing is also a job, and it's not that fun--it's a compulsion that I need to follow through, with the payoff being that I can connect with someone and they say, "me too!" I'm waking up to find something to wake up for (and I wish that my faith in God helped with that, but it didn't). That's bleak, but that's my life. For now.

And at least with these upcoming procedures, I'm gonna have to up my eating and exercise game. Thankfully, it's been mild and sunny here--although that is completely screwing up my dreams...but I need to be a little more stringent with my lightbox use and waking/sleeping times. Cuz all of this is how depression can just throat chop me and leave me in a heap of anti-depressants. It hasn't ever been that bad in years, but it hasn't been this stressful in a while. And I think today, because I'm technically done with grad school apps, my body finally said--"OK, you can collapse now."

But tomorrow, I'll go back to work. Now, I want to go back in there and try to not have that daily rejection erode me any longer. I know that I don't want to be there, which is probably not endearing me to anyone, but honey, it's all circular. At this point, I need to start counting down days to March and the end of July (grad school decisions and hopefully when I'd leave Chicago). I'm taking a seminar series on how to manage my career through work. My alumni association has this session on how to deal with that one thing that turns people off (yes, I'm still the problem...*sigh*...just kidding).

One day, I'll be up for picking my way through humanity and finding safe people. Blah, I'm so sick of saying this, but this is the bloody journey. I feel like I keep pointing to the same point on the horizon, as if I didn't move. But I know I've moved!

Anyway, as I was saying, until I feel like it's OK to go outside and play, I will acknowledge that I was beat up pretty badly, by pretty much everyone, and it'll take some time before my psyche will trust people, in general, again. And maybe, generally, they aren't trustworthy. That's fine; then at least I know that for sure! But I know humanity is a tad more complicated than that, just like my story is.

OK, so I'm still wiped, but what a year 2012 has already been, nine days in! And I hate being so personal, but hey, this shit is compelling! Or it will be, once I really write about it. Thanks for bearing witness.

P.S. Tomorrow is my parents' 36th anniversary. Yeah, um, if I'm feeling sad this week, then I believe I have this reason. :-( Hope you're safe, Dad, wherever you are...

Almost there...

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Finished my childhood essay! *massive fist pump!*

Image via Wikipedia

The finish line is in sight...

This is probably the happiest before a work week I've ever been. Or maybe the most relieved. I finally finished that childhood essay, and now all I have to do is...

1) Print out and mail four applications.
2) Pay for two applications.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Um, and what else did I do today? I woke up, LATE, washed dishes, washed my tub, washed my self, and then...um...I dunno, internet stuff? Watched Up with Chris Hayes. Watched the GOP debate that was on earlier. Watched Tebus (Tim Tebow) and the Broncos march to Zion over the Steelers. I dunno, it's 10:15pm, and I don't have much to show for this day! I watched more TV, but I really need to read The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. She's coming to campus in a couple of weeks, with a book signing. I'm just so bad at reading now. And I gotta get that in gear and make it a normal part of my life.

But I really wish I could take a year off from my life, and just travel. Not work, just do nothing. Not work on being a better person or getting over wounds or trying to suck it up that life is sort of OK. Life has been hell, and the more I write about my life, the more I just want a vacation from it. I doubt it will happen, but after these applications are done, I think I might take a break from all these rules I keep for myself.

Blah, sorry that this is kind of off the cuff...today's brain power went into editing that piece. Plus, it's been a heavy weekend, right? So let's talk about good news.

My first follow on tumblr--freaking Goldfrapp! This woman is so amazing. I love her music. Her vocals always remind me of James Bond theme songs--slinky, sexy, smoky, sophisticated. It's the only musician I have the social media trifecta with--tumblr, Facebook, and Twitter. *happy sigh* The follow came, I believe, because I posted this video of hers, showing a new song from her new singles album.

I thought I told you guys about how I got exposed to her, but my tags are not showing anything about this. So, I met this guy on an Amtrak train, on the way Ann Arbor, a cute guy name Dave with dandruff, and we would chat and hang out...and I swear I told you guys this...but he came to my joint bday party with my roomies (this happened probably at least ten years ago), and I was really into him. I brought him into my bedroom, heehee, and he gave me Goldfrapp's Felt Mountain and Cat Power. Good taste in music, eh? But then, later, I found out that he had been hitting on my friends. I think that was the last straw. Either that, or when we hung out at the MCA Chicago, and this other chick came along, and then the three of us, awkwardly, hung out at his apt. I was so angry. I remember leaving there, calling my best friend at the time. Blah.

So anyway, the net gain was a new love for Cat Power, and Goldfrapp, and, the story is fun now. The dandruff really was a sign to not be friends with such a schmuck. That's the moral of the story.

Anyway, enjoy the fruits of my lame, dating labors from the last decade.

walking, branches, sky, lake, sadness, and the tears that won't come.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sun, 08 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Trying to trigger tears is so hard!

Image by lilnerdette via Flickr

I took this!

Today was a lazy day, despite heading to the great outdoors. I woke up too early, because I was so sad, I couldn't sleep. I probably rotated in my bed at least 3483 times. I felt like I never slept, but then I was sleeping, because I was dreaming about my blogs...yeah, weird...so I watched Up with Chris Hayes, and then what...fretted why the laundry service hadn't come to pick up my stuff...read one page of my American art history book. Went back to bed, sleeping sadly in the sun--it was so nice out--bright sky, high, thin cirrus clouds. I actually opened the drapes and the blinds and let all that south facing sun in.

Image by lilnerdette via Flickr

I took this, too!

So, while I was out, I took these pics: http://flic.kr/s/aHsjxUaxuz Ain't that nice? It's my first time with flickr. I guess being all by my lonesome just makes me wanna share, share, share! Anyway, I listened to Souvlaki again, kinda got sad, but not sad enough, not beating the lake and adding to the collection of water with my bitter, lonely tears sad. Wistful. And wistful is not, "I'm getting the fuck over this old ass shit," which is what I want.

Anyway, of course, because it was above freezing, a lot of people were out, which was nice. Eventually, though, I had to put a hat on, and I got cold, but I took over a hundred pics. 80 made it into that flickr set. I just wish I wasn't ashamed of taking pictures. I think it'd be easier if I had a big ole super expensive camera. A) the pics would come out better and 2) then I would feel important. My other camera is hot pink. *shrugs*

Image by lilnerdette via Flickr

And I took this!

It's been such a weird winter, though. I grew up in Alabama, where when it was winter, the grass was spun by winter winds into golden straw. Here now, I'm not used to seeing the grass still at least half green/half straw-like. Usually, it's because it's under snow at this point. But apparently, all this good weather ends this upcoming Thursday. But until then, weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

So, tomorrow/today, I'll work on that last essay a bunch and be done with this very draining application process. I'm not even going to try to send it to others. I know what works and what doesn't work. I just have to, you know, put in the effort.

But I'm glad I had this time to walk around and be morose. It's not ending that way, either. Although I did watch Blue Valentine (Michelle Williams and Ryan Gosling) to provoke some tears. Instead, I was just frustrated. Great movie, though--I want to own it. It's beautiful. The day is ending with jokes on Twitter, SNL banter, and Beyonce's apparent baby arrival (which I'm so skeptical about re: her actual pregnancy or not...like that really matters in my real life)

I think it was really helpful to talk about this 11 year old ailment, which has helped me also deal with things that happened around that time that were so painful. Loss upon loss upon loss. Soon, you stop counting. And you also want to be normal oh so bad so people don't reject you--which happened anyway. I'm resilient up to a point, it looks like. And that it's taken so long to sort through all this, and there's probably still some more to sort through...it's annoying. But it has to be done so I can walk in a little more wholeness and completeness, not leaving bits of me behind, waiting for people, events, or things that will never come back. That's when hope can go awry.

But it's everything in its time. You can only understand that when there's been a lot of time that's passed. And having a lot of time by myself can expand that time quite a bit. And I'm grateful for it, albeit I do believe it may be time to go back into the world, as I keep being quite ambivalent about. That will be in its time, too. It just goes to show you that loss, compounded loss, can start to rob you of your humanity, even when you try to ensure that it doesn't.

Sometimes, all you need to do is have microwaved popcorn that doesn't come in a pre-packaged bag, go out for an hour, take a walk along the lake, remember that it's good that the laundry service was late because you now can use that coupon this month, and be grateful that the sun warmed up the house to 75 degrees.

I just hope it's enough to actually get some sleep tonight...

Here's a song (via Spotify) with Neil Finn and Eddie Vedder. Yes, the title is very literal, and so am I at times.

Eddie Vedder; Neil Finn – Take a Walk

The pain-light from last decade

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

Sometimes feelings travel like light from distant stars.

Image via Wikipedia

The cat's eye nebula (planetary nebula)

It takes years for the feelings to catch up to the time we're living in now. And where the feelings came from, that place, that start, that galaxy--died a long time ago. It doesn't make the light less real. The star still twinkles. But one day, all stars stop emitting light, explode into a planetary nebula or supernovas, and turn into a white dwarf...and have the materials to create other planets.

Anyway, if I'm going to keep using this metaphor, music can maybe hasten these feelings to travel faster (technically sounds travels a lot more slowly than light, so this is already breaking down...).

So I heard this song today, that was on a mixtape that was given to me from a past boyfriend, the one my heart claims is "the one that got away"--and I listened to the whole album that the song came from, and it was amazeballs shoegazing glorious. "Alison" by Slowdive was the song, Souvlaki is the album. And I think for the first time in ages, and I mean, years and years, I felt the pain of the loss really acutely, like it sat in my chest while I rode the shuttle bus home tonight. I feel like I need to keep listening to it, because I think somehow, in ancient times, I deftly dodged the pain.

Here are the lyrics:

Alison (written by Neil Halstead)
Listen close, and don't be stoned
I'll be here in the morning
'Cause I'm just floating
Your cigarette still burns
Your messed-up world will thrill me
Alison, I'm lost
Alison, I said we're sinking
There's nothing here but that's okay
Outside your room, your only sister's spinning
But she lies, tells me she's just fine
I guess she's out there somewhere
And the sailors they strike poses
TV covered walls, and so slowly
With your talking and your pills
Your messed-up life still thrills me
Alison, I'm lost
Alison, I'll drink your wine
I wear your clothes, when we're both high
Alison, I said we're sinking
But you laugh and tells me it's just fine
I guess she's out there somewhere

OK, so I really can't tell if I'm supposed to read into this that much. When I met this guy, I had just been spat out from college, and so most of my identity was still locked up. I was supposed to be a senior in college, not this dude's one month girlfriend. And this song is about a guy who is obsessed with a fucked up girl. Oh God, is this supposed to be autobiographical? Because I was fucked up.

Anyway, the song means a lot to me, still, and it's the first song on the mixtape ~~that I still have.~~ He had great taste in music, what can I say? But when he left a month later, I froze in time a bit there. There had been so much trauma before I strolled into that church. Besides being kicked out of school (due to unpaid bills), I was being kicked out because my family was just swirling down the drain. I don't like admitting this, but there was no one to cling to. My friends were locked up in school, too. So then this really cute, artsy guy (who loves God like me...which ended up not being the case...and now that's not the case for me either) was really interested in me, and I, in turn, was really interested in him.

The only mooring out in the sea of aloneness. God, what horrible timing.

I never really thought about this until recently, like why I couldn't get over this relationship, and how all the others were so easy to get over. Besides that the intensity felt like what it would feel like when our Sun will die in a supernova glory, I know that it had to do with shitty timing. The year 2000 was so bad for me, and a few years preceding it.

Ugh, now going into twelve years later, I think it's bigger than our breakup, all that loss. He was just the fat, dripping cherry on top of the shitpile that was my life. And like how I felt about my best friend next door when I was six, where I wanted to keep looking for her, so I could find that six year old kid...well, I didn't need her. Going back to find that almost 23 year old will only make me sad. But since I never really ever grieved this--I forced myself to cry about it two years later, but I wasn't convinced--I'm going to allow myself to drown in a bunch of shoegazing music and let the last light hit me until I can hear the truth, that there's no going back to that little space of love and innocence there. And even if I could now, it wouldn't be the same, because I'm more grown up and less busted up now.

And there's the irony. I probably met that guy way too early. The 24 year old version of him and I have so much more in common now.

Shitty. fucking. timing. This is my life. I'm always late, but usually, I'm never early...

But if I don't let this light hit me, and let the star dwindle into a white dwarf, then I'll be stuck in the fall of 2000. And I need to be here. Photons of pain, and I have no idea if they pack the same wallop as they would've if I hadn't been so deadened by pain back then...

This is when it sucks being a survivor and being strong (about to switch metaphors). Where is the healing response? The pain? The pus? The plasma running through? The scab? The scar? I just have packed away hidden, open wounds, packed with shots of morphine, but nothing to cleanse them with...except now, I can. I'm not running...I've dealt with as many other hidden wounds as I've been able to in the years of being on the therapist's triage table. And this is so embarrassing...you can smell how bad it is, how long I've carried this, but I just freshen up the air with the Febreeze of forgetfulness...

Anyway, even though I'm all sensitive and sentimental, I deserve to not be holding onto dead things, dead stars..and yes, it's more than just bad timing. That guy was, probably still is, a really neat person. And since, meeting neat people is so fucking hard. And so, in a sense, I was lucky to find that church with an inordinate amount of artsy people in it (that I thought were long-term into me, but that's a whole other wound that I've healed up). But I deserve to keep trying to find really neat people. It's just that, again, church made it easy. You didn't really have to do much. Blah.

Alright, now that I've debased myself, I have to hope that I cry as soon as I can hit "Publish Post" or this weekend. I can't keep being the tough person I was when we broke up, the one that vowed that he'd never see me cry or ever know how I felt. Boy. I was so. Hurt. But I shoved it as far as I could...light years away.

And on a warm winter's night, the light has traveled and has requested to shine itself into my eyes for a bit. And I need to just look into it and be transformed already. Thank God this isn't some stalker story. This is an internal journey, and I just need to stop running from this, even if I think my chest will collapse in complete depression and misery.

But it's never, ever as bad as I imagine. Although, I feel like I'm in this Robyn song Robyn – Dancing On My Own and I'm singing this to life itself. *exhales*

Oh, and here's the band that I love right now--Real Estate. They are from New Jersey, now in Brooklyn
This song (on Spotify): Real Estate – It's Real is my favorite of theirs. So check them out.

Housekeeping!

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 07 Jan 2012 03:48:00 +0000

Things are a little different around here...

Image via Wikipedia

Yes, I believe in the power of a red Solo cup.

So sorry...I thought I had pre-blogged for yesterday, but alas, it was for Wednesday. It's been a long week, and I'm so glad it's over. It was so cold, then it's been so warm--highs in the 50s? This is not winter in Chicago.

Let's talk about the blog itself. I guess we'll make an artist's statement about it. The empty page for me is very scary. There's so much promise, so much undiscovered and written, and thus, there's so much intimidation. But that's what this blog is about...plus, what has be written down. I've got three years worth of blog posts here so far, but the page is always is empty...y'know? But really--I got tired of the lightpainting. It was a tad dark, no?

Also, the links on my page have changed a bit, like the Top 10 pages are different now. It's interesting that the gifted stuff is the most popular. Expect more of that, naturally, since I don't think there's enough written from a grown up's perspective about it. And yes, it drives traffic to this small, itty bitty blog. But I ain't getting money for it. I just like connecting with others. And even more also--it's a framework that makes a lot of sense, especially about how I see the world and how the world see me (on top of being a minority and a woman). But really, it'll still be about getting into this writing biz. Which reminds me...I should start trying to get published elsewhere...

The blogroll is longer, and it has my tumblr on there (more on that in a bit). It might end up even longer, because there are blogs that come into my email (and you can do that to--subscribe to this blog! Right in the upper right hand corner). So keep your eyes peeled!

Then there's my tumblr Thinking Links. Here's the Facebook page (and you can like it on the left hand side of this blog). So please do me three favors.

1) Follow my tumblr.
2) Like my Facebook page.
3) Spread the word about both.

Outside of writing and my emotional life's wasteland, there's other shit going on in the world. So instead of posting it in on my Facebook wall, I'm hoping that maybe we can have dialogue about interesting links, and I can say what the hell I want about them. And you can, too--civilly. Maybe it should be a salon--like for intelligentsia. But also for those non-nerds, too. I think tumblr is great for this, because the theme is what I find interesting. And like I've said about tumblr, it's great if you just want to focus on ONE THING.

Anyway, that's it for now. I owe you a personal blog now. Um. Yay.

2011 sucked. Bring on 2012!

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Wed, 04 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

I guess I wasn't alone in feeling that 2011 was super hard.
I'm back at work and not curled in the fetal position--success! This blogger, The Sauda Voice, whose tagline is "Politics, news and opinion from a black woman's perspective" pretty much put into more eloquent words about who counts in your life better than I have all last year. So basically THIS was all I was trying to say.

And so we press on.

Grad school application update

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Tue, 03 Jan 2012 17:13:00 +0000

Yes, I'm getting closer to being done!

Image by Deadly Tedly via Flickr

So it's been quite a journey since I took my first English class two years ago this month. I realized how I'm not used to having an extra strain outside of work, but shouldn't I be? I've been in and out of post-bac classes since January 2008. And now, I'm nearing the end of another leg in the race to grad school.

Yesterday, I made Monday my "do all the things I was avoiding the past two weeks" day. I cleaned the house. I put clothes away. I made some phone calls. And, finally, I looked over the last bits of my applications. I'm very happy to report that this is all I have left to do.

Pay for two applications (on the 13th)
Finish the childhood essay for two applications
Mail off four applications

The hardest part is the essay, which I worked on yesterday. I got to 11 pages, but I was just babbling. Also, if you read my blog about two or three days ago, you can see how my separation from Christian Culture has a lot to do with how I feel about when I was six. It's like a 28 year cycle that has now ended, and I'm back to being how I was, somewhat, when I was six. And I worked through the racism angle--I don't want to look for my next door neighbor anymore; I'm lucky that the n-word didn't define me; innocence is a powerful protector, but is also very vulnerable to attacks of all sorts. Basically, going back in time, thinking you're looking for someone who knew you then wasn't the point anymore. It's very interesting how writing can seriously help you grow as a person, if you let it.

I'm looking forward to celebrating being done with applications and having some rest from anything having to do with school. I plan on reading a lot--I just hope that doesn't actually mean being distracted by the internet and television.

Beyond that, I still have the sniffles, which might get some help from my new ENT tomorrow. It's very cold outside, in the teens, like it should in Chicago on a January morning--except very little snow. I'm not complaining, though! I feel motivated to be focused on work, so I will get back to that. It's very hard to focus on work when I'm interrupted all the time. But I'm really going to try not to be cranky that I have a boring phone call and a doctor's appointment today. I really need to start meditating again.

Be well and enjoy your day, today!

My new church

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Mon, 02 Jan 2012 13:00:00 +0000

As I was walking in here--my bedroom, I had a little epiphany.

Image via Wikipedia

I'm rocking out to Coldplay's Mylo Xyloto right now. I wasn't going to ever buy this with my own money because those fuckers are rich enough and they aren't on any streaming service (see the link below). But Lynn got me an iTunes $15 iTunes card. Actually, I have $7.05 left on it. Any ideas on what I should buy with it?

Anyway, another day of loafing around at home has almost come to an end, and I realized when I was coming in here to read my old American art history book from the class that I had to drop because it was insufferable and a prof yelled at me at the Art Institute--ahem--...I realized something I have realized before, in therapy with Tom specifically. I had forgotten, but this time, I felt the weight of it, and then a weight lift off of me.

So, um. There's a lot of life changing stuff happening to me, specifically that I haven't been in a church community in almost three years. Adjusting to that seismic shift doesn't happen overnight, just like me leaving. There were these micromoves happening, that I wasn't even paying attention to, and then all of a sudden, I found myself on my couch, today, not even missing church, without even a hint of bitterness. It was just Sunday.

I'm not sure why I'm expecting myself to just create out of thin air what church seemingly, and artificially, created--community. I say artificially because the glue is Christ, but even Christ isn't enough...at least for me. Ugh, I won't even touch why it's not for me right now, because I will go on some tirade. Alright, the tirade is needed...sorry...

It's never been enough to bond me to anyone, although after my Facebook bloodletting that I've done last month, most of the people who are left are people that I met in church. It is a social bond, but outside of that particular community, for me, it doesn't hold me to most of the 189 people who are left. It introduced me to some neat people that if I had met them in other spheres, I bet the same thing would've happened--life-long bonds.

What frustrates me is that the Church claims that these bonds are almost instantaneous, just because we're in the body of Christ. But really, most of it has to do with similar culture, Christian culture, which is usually white and middle-class. I definitely was raised middle-class, but not white. But yeah, that revelation still needs to permeate into my whole evangelical experience. I have about, oh, at least two decades worth of life to steep in that tea, and I can't really do that here. I'm definitely in Evangelical recovery, and maybe still in a little bit of denial that race has sooooo much to do with it, but also that it has a lot to do with who I am. I don't think I should've ever been in that sect of Christianity. It's only destroyed my family, fractured my identity, and made the idea of anything Christian make me want to gag. I'm sad that I probably won't know who that Jesus dude is. Unless he's somewhere outside of this Christian culture...I hope he is, but he's so emeshed with the wreckage I left behind, I don't feel like picking it through. But he's Jesus...and I'm on a path of truth...hopefully we'll bump into each other soon. But I gotta lick my wounds elsewhere. Outside...

Anyway, tirade over (and now I'm listening to The National's High Violet). The question is now, what/who/where is my new church? I don't know how people who aren't Christian just create little communities for themselves. It's a lot of work! Work is usually a part of it--not really for me. Or some sport. Or alums for high school and college. Or something. But since I left insta-community, and I'm already always at risk to be on the edges anyway--well, it makes sense that I'm not highly distrustful of just throwing myself out there with others I don't know. At least in Church, I had some guarantee that people weren't assholes. But the Church really can't claim that...at all. I don't know why my youth group back in Birmingham is the exception to this, and why I'm not grieving that as much, if at all. I'll have to think about that. Time of life, I think. Being a 20 something has you more scattered, but I dunno...it should apply. Regional differences? They were just nicer? But it's not like they weren't actually closer either--they all lived on the other side of town...I remember finding that out when I went to visit last March. I was gutted, but not surprised.

So, I'm not scared that I won't find a community, but I think that little walk from the living room to my bedroom changed me a bit--it pushed some things up to the surface that are painful. But also it created some room, bought me some time. I just threw my guts out, expected myself to stuff myself with hopes and goodwill and to walk properly after that. No wonder I'm upset. I don't think I've even really thought about grieving the loss of such a huge part of my identity. I've only been doing the Christian culture thing for three decades. All of a sudden, I should just pop up a tent to walk into and make a new home? Yipes, how unrealistic.

Not that I like sitting around grieving all day--there's so much to grieve and yet so much life to be lived--but that alone is a lot. I'm re-engineering how I breathe and see and interact with the world. And I'm a lot more naked now.

And let's get to those guts I threw out. The family I was born into failed me over and over, and I thought the Church wouldn't do that. I thought it could somehow take its place. It didn't, although it does for a lot of people--just not me. So I feel cheated and lied to. And time is short, to go around with your beaten up heart hanging around your neck with people who don't know what to do with it, claiming that they do (church shopping). To rephrase Margaret Thatcher, it's best to keep that in your chest, where it's safe. I think when they said "family", it was more of a conceptual idea, not a real, tangible thing. Gotcha. And boy do I feel stupid.

Granted, I don't think the Church, ideally, is bad. There are a lot of good people in there--probably not enough. It's the culture. I can sit in a greenhouse with lovely orchids and mustard gas. But the mustard gas usually is what does me in, and others, too. It warps humanity. And I know God hates it even more than I do. But God bless those who are not choking from it. Apparently, I was allergic the whole time. So excuse me while I leave the whole structure instead of sniffing out for little spaces that aren't full of the gas. I'm not as brave or patient.

But yeah, there are opportunities to create my own little home. There's the online group of black lady writers I'm a part of...and I just need to jump in there. The non-fiction group that was meeting in the burbs is now at least meeting at a Starbucks to a much closer burb, starting in February, I guess. There's the museum group...

I just have to remind myself that it's OK to be upset that Facebook keeps messing with my head about the extent of the relationships I have with others, and how "others" have seemingly stronger relationships--just as I feared--and that I can still walk away from that atrocious mess, too--Facebook and the reality of the past. It's also OK to make sure that I avenge that past by living as well as I can now, that I acknowledge I'm a little satellite hurtling nowhere except maybe to California, or who knows where, and that I will find safe orbit elsewhere, in a less toxic galaxy. And for someone with a lot of odds against her, I've done probably above average, considering. Cold comfort, but comfort nonetheless.

So I'm reassembling and healing at the same time. And most relationships aren't going to survive that anyway, especially ones from the past, because I am not the same person with the same tastes. And I'm resigned to that. I'm awake now, and maybe I can use this year as a jumping off point to somewhere different, to those safe places I had when I was much younger, where I didn't feel sorely misunderstood, where I could be friends with nearly anyone, and Christian culture wasn't choking my identity into a mold. [Now I realize what that childhood piece is so important...]

What am I like outside, here? I am not timid. I am wild. My imagination runs and runs. And I am not afraid to love.

I'm sad that it took 28 years of starting to lose myself, also known as growing up, to figure that out.

I'm not sure what my new church will be. It might actually be a church. But what's most important, right now is that I water this burgeoning tree of self-knowledge, and letting that truth set me free to run.

Happy 2012!

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 19:01:00 +0000

Happy New Year! I'm happily rested!

Image by ZedZap via Flickr

"Turn your face to the sun and the shadows
fall behind you."--Maori proverb

I hope you were able to have good, safe fun last night. I just hung out on Twitter, wondering where my appetite went, drinking a bit of Korbel. My sense of smell is still off, although my congestion has lessened. It's very windy here, but still above freezing at 37 degrees. Tomorrow will be colder with a high of 24.

Even though I was a little bored the past couple of days, I'm now so grateful to have so many consecutive days of rest, even if I didn't have a cold. I have realized how grueling graduate school applications have been, how draining work has been, and how I needed my mind to mend itself. I won't be thrilled to go back to work on Tuesday--I'm actually dreading it--but that's natural. It's not the type of work I want to do, but it pays my bills. I hope I can start to separate my emotions from my work even more. Ironically, my work matters, but it really doesn't matter to me. I'm pretty sure that increasingly feeling like an Excel little girl peon and needing my brain for more important things, like writing, is why I hate work now. But I have another day of vacation between me and that plac

For this year, I'm going to try my darnedest to remain hopeful, because in the next few months, I hope my life will change drastically. I'm still hella scared I won't even be able to afford to move! But we'll see. I'm at peace with whatever happens--being accepted or not. And I'm grateful for that. I just wish my personal life wasn't frozen and my desire to make it unfrozen wasn't also frozen with it. It'd be nice to reset that and see today as a new day, a new year, as it is, but I'm alas still grieving the cumulative affects of life being a shitstorm. Spring and its big thaw will come soon enough.

Until then, I'll be here, cleaning up my apartment, trying not to worry too much, avoiding watching the Bears play the Vikings in football, and watching more of Gold Rush on the Discovery Channel. And probably tomorrow, I'll actually be up for dealing with the rest of my applications.

I also just started a tumblr today! http://thinkinglinks.tumblr.com Instead of posting on Facebook, I'm going to post what I find interesting there. So please follow! I have a lot of tumblrs I need to follow now, but I'll probably do that tomorrow. Tumblr freaks me out because I don't understand it. But we'll see!

Alright, off to finish watching Up with Chris Hayes, my new favorite Saturday and Sunday morning news show. You should check it out on MSNBC.

Happy New Year and I hope 2012 isn't as shitty as 2011.
Love,
d*

So tough--life in 2011.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 22:42:00 +0000

Another year comes to a close. I know for a lot of people, it comes with a sigh of relief.

Ah, this year has about eight hours left in it, and...I'm glad. Most of it was not fun, with a lot of hard work. And I'm so sick of retrospectives about things that have happened in 2011, so based on a hashtag that I just saw, it's best to talk about what I've learned.
1) This year has been so tough, but so am I. This year and last year have been very disappointing in terms of supportive friendships, mainly because I don't know if I've ever really had the ones I've needed for a while. I still feel like I'm dealing with parent-sized wounds that can't be filled or completely healed in friendship. And I think before I was dealing with this stuff, I was OK with half-assedness in friendships. And now, I can't stand that sort of lukewarmness. I've found comfort in my own company, and mostly with my therapist, while I've been changing more into myself.

It's been tough, but so was trying to make relationships work that doesn't. I've found those people before in the past, and I know that I know that I know that the ones I have now, I can count on one hand. But I look forward to not having life to be so tough, nor having to be so tough. I hold onto the hope that I will soon find the family that I've sought, in retrospect, very stupidly and desperately, with so many others. It's nice to have my pride back and to have this new space to grow better, healthier things in my life. Grad school might be a part of that, but like Michelle Obama has been quoted saying, "I own my own happiness." And I deserve, deserve, to have those wounds healed and to have people who can see me for who I am and support me in that, in the same time zone, in the same city. And I'm pissed that I got distracted by those who were never interested in that.

2) I can write, but it takes so much work! Reading, writing, revising, pride-swallowing...reminds me that I need to read Anne Lamott's Bird by Bird, because I'm very ambivalent about how I should feel about the writing life, especially criticism. Where does my sensitivity end and my critic's mean streak begin? I can't tell. I haven't really found writers I like to talk to or be friends with yet.

3) Life is short. I had a friend with a cancer diagnosis (they are fine now), I was faced with possibly having breast cancer, and then I found that an old friend had died in a car accident. Why put up with bullshit from anyone, then? This is why I want to pursue writing and give it a shot, a real shot.

4) Fun should be had more often. Because it's been so tough, I need to remember that I should balance all this work with some fun that I want for myself. That will help improve my work, too!

5) Doing what I want will make me happier. I've subverted what I wanted to do for soooooo long. Keeping the peace meant I disappeared. I need not be afraid of rocking the boat anymore. It doesn't mean that I get to be a self-entitled bitch (although I feel like I've been thought of that already). All this mishandling and ignoring of me has pushed me to push back and say, "Hello? I have boundaries here!"

I wish this wasn't so full of tough lessons, but I'm actually trying to be positive! When I try to think back about good things, there isn't much--even the certificate program and applying to grad school: that was not fun! Yes, it's great that those things happened/are happening, but I've already got new worries: how can I afford moving? new furniture? will I be stuck with all this old stuff? will I ever live like a happy, fulfilled adult? This MFA might help, but then again I keep feeling like I'm being pulled towards psychology and mental health. I don't know if I've even created to be satisfied with one calling, one dream, one anything (no, this doesn't mean I want ten husbands). Whatever is being forged in the fires of this year, that's the good, hardy things that I will need for the rest of my life. Why I couldn't just pick them up at an after-Christmas sale, I don't know!

Yes, I would like a life of ease, of comfort, of a little more money in my pocket, with buddies and friends and love, but I wonder if I had all that, if all the stuff I've learned would've been able to spring forth. I don't think so. But it doesn't mean that I hope school's out for summer and I don't have to constantly be trying to extract goodness from bad things. It's wearisome!

But I'm grateful there was any good to extract from the bad at all. Growth sucks, I hate writing, chronic loneliness is fucking with my head, but I will be here at home tonight, with champagne, grateful that I have another chance to own my happiness and heal my wounds myself. I hope that 2012 is less shitty for all of us.

Cheers to you, my readers, and Happy New Year!

An idle mind

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 13:00:00 +0000

A day off of work and not much to do...

Image via Wikipedia

My cold is still lingering...more like clinging on for dear life. I've sneezed more the past seven days than I have all year. I realize I have my dad's sneeze--it's so damn loud, too! The congestion has lessened, but it's morphed into this really thick snot. And then sometimes, it morphs into a runny nose at the same time. Amazing. So I doubt that I will go out for New Year's Eve tomorrow. This mucus somehow slows my brain down. Plus, I just had a moment where I need five tissues to get all the snot from my nose. That is not NYE behavior! There will be no getting shitfaced, in tight shoes, when my nose goes from running water to running ectoplasm. Yeah, this is a mother of a cold, y'all.

So, I didn't do much today, except play Angry Birds. There's nothing on TV! How is that possible with hundreds of channels AND On Demand? I feel like my brain has me on lockdown--I have things to do, like dishes and, sigh, grad school apps. So unless all my "chores" are done, I don't get to have any fun. I haven't played a lot of games until this holiday season. Even the Facebook game I play, I barely play it anymore because it's horribly tedious. But it wasn't really fun.

And this Christmas wasn't fun, it was nice--nice to be around a really good friend and her very warm family. But as I was laying in bed this afternoon, I asked myself--what would I rather be doing? At the time, I would rather be taking photographs in nature. Hard to do on a rainy Chicago afternoon, but I really like doing that, and I don't need to be around anyone. I wanted to be walking in a forest. I like nature, sans bugs, but it's not easy to get out there...and winter is here. But hey, at least I wanted to do something.

I noticed that even the books I have to read are recommendations, or self-help, or things about the genre of non-fiction I'm in, so it feels like extra work. I actually want to read Atlas Shrugged--not because I believe in the silliness of objectivism, but because it'll be an escape. And I need one! Ah, it feels so foreign to talk about pleasures, and I've talked about this before, but it took so long to figure out what to do with myself today. I took a nap because I stayed up late--playing games--and then I had to wake up for a grocery delivery.

So all I did today was listen to a couple of episodes of This American Life, and I fell asleep on the second one. I never get to do that, so that was...nice and fun. But I am bored without tasks to do, but then tasks make me really angry and resentful that I have nothing else to do!

My hobby used to be reading, but now, as I've said earlier, books now are work, too! Argh! But like I said yesterday, I might need to find a book club. And...I'm boring myself! The point of this post was to say that I couldn't really think of much to do that was fun. On a rainy day. Besides games. And some books. Ugh, this is just like when I was a teenager! Bah!

I think if I have a resolution for 2012, it's to have more fun. And yeah, that might involve, gasp, people, but that's OK. Hopefully, this is just a temporary brain drain, but with winter coming, I'm a little bit concerned that I will be frozen with boredom.

*yawn* I guess I'll be reading tomorrow and drinking some champagne by myself later. And that's, ho hum, OK. Especially if my life ends up changing drastically in a few months. The calm before the storm...I'll try to appreciate it. *sigh* :-)

And with that, the most boring blog post ever, I'm going to bed. I'll write tomorrow with my no-life self.

And Happy New Year, since this is being posted on Saturday.

Four "thoughts"

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Fri, 30 Dec 2011 01:07:00 +0000

Another day of breathing through mud, but work is over (mostly).

Image via Wikipedia

Working from home today, I was actually super productive, which is what happens, because I'm not being interrupted by fax machines or people. I was probably too productive. Breakfast became brunch. But now it's over. I couldn't do any data entry because I was fortunate to be able to complete the work that I did today. It's the last day of work for the year (besides being on call tomorrow).

So with that in mind, and the end of the year has been on my mind, as I'm sure it's been on yours...I was reminded in my doctor's appointment that I have been through hell--I forgot about my breast biopsy in my patient history. Oops. And yeah, I'm not going to rehash all that, the hell. But I have a few thoughts of what I want next year, very trite, familiar thoughts...

1) Reduce debt. Way too much of my income is going out to creditors. I'm not sure if that will be possible in grad school, if I go, but I've already planned that if I don't get into grad school, this will be even more of a priority. I wonder if I can get away without shopping for clothes for like ever? not if #2 happens...

2) Be healthier. I don't mind that this is cliche. I feel like I'm a walking Butterball turkey, and I got to start doing something. But I have to psych myself out somehow, work it in so it doesn't feel burdensome. This is easier when you're trying to quit something, like smoking. You save money and lung strength with quitting stuff like that. Even with curbing spending, it's easier. But to go from eating sorta crappy to not, to go from being a couch potato to, um, being less of one. I wish I could go for walks in the neighborhood, but my neighborhood bores me. So does the gym. So do videos. Bleh. I know things will be different when I leave here, but I'm here now, and it's winter. But at least grad school apps are mostly done, so I won't feel guilty about going to the gym after work. I'll figure it out, though...cuz my knee alone needs it.

3) Read more. I have so many books I would like to read. Heck, maybe I should start this tomorrow, but if I feel better, I have to clean this house. Anyway, writers read. So I just have to be about that and read. That's it. I should find a book club, too, that might help.

4) Be assertive, b-e assertive! Life is too short to be mousy. I need dudes at work to respect me like how I was respected on the playground in elementary school. I have nothing to lose, either. It's time.

And, those are my thoughts. I am not going to up my social life game any more than I have. I think these four "thoughts"---ok, sideways resolutions---are hard enough, and this past year was hard enough. I'm just hoping for a chill 2012. But hey, potentially moving across the country is not chill. Damn.

If you have any "thoughts" you want to share, please share them. I want my readers to convert from lurker status to commenter status. ;-)

On being sick

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Thu, 29 Dec 2011 05:41:00 +0000

Oh, I wish I could be as profound as Virginia Woolf was in her essay, "On Being Ill" (a great essay, I might add)--but here I am, writing.

Image by RobertFrancis via Flickr

Cough and the common cold...if only they really were so cuddly.

So today, I had a doc visit that I was late for, cuz I woke up many times during the night--coughing and my mind running 100 mph--so I was exhausted. The doc visit wasn't related to the cold, but it was helpful nonetheless. I got to work to find the IT dude installing Office 2010. We did the light chit-chat for a while, and then before he left, I had a coughing fit. And then, when he left, I knew I couldn't stay at work in this condition. So I came home not even staying there two hours, and worked from home. Then I got lost playing Alchemy for the rest of my evening.

The end. That was mostly my day.

It's amazing how mucus simplifies things. The deadlines for grad school apps that I am sick over...well, now, my brain can only play games (just played a few games of mahjong and lost them all). Sickness quiets things down, in your brain, to the most essential. I wanted to touch my essay for one school again, but 1) the deadline is due February 1st and 2) I just can't seem to touch it right now with my brain drowning in snot. My other deadlines are next month, and I will meet them, for sure. But there really is only so much I can do, even for work. This cold or allergic reaction is walloping me. And I'm too tired to be angry or sad about it. But it is ironic that the schools I really care about getting into have already had their applications submitted and completed. It comforts me that I actually did fret about all this stuff for months and all that is left is revising, payment, and mailing. Basically administrative stuff. The creative stuff, for the most part, is over. Now, we tend to the herding of cats, which is making sure the applications are complete. My next deadline is on Monday and besides the claim that they haven't received my transcripts, I'm done with it. Next deadlines are 1/14/12 and 1/15/12. And as I look at my color coded spreadsheet, I am assured that things are going well.

Not as I hoped, of course. I had a sick deadline of being done six weeks ago. And then life happened. Even with work, I wanted to be much further ahead, but I can't be very intensive at work and with my future. I just can't. So I have to be OK with meeting deadlines, but not blowing them away by two months, and just being OK with that I'm meeting them at all. Yes, I'm annoyed that my recommenders will probably have to wait until the New Year to upload that letter of rec. But they will still have a month to do it! This is a good thing!

And being sick like this...well, I haven't been sick like this in a while, and apparently this has been going around. And again, sickness is like first snow...everything quiets down, eerily so. You can't think about complex things while you're sick. You can only focus on the very immediate needs. Even hunger isn't one of them. Usually it's...can I cough this up? Will I need a tissue? When did I take my last cup of cough syrup? I feel cold. I hate sneezing. I can barely breathe. I want to go to bed. Not many Latinate words in those sentences.

It's not like sickness is new to me--I'm human--but it is new when I have deadlines, self-imposed vs. actual. I'm probably sick, too, because of the months of stress that haven't way-layed me yet...until now. I don't know if my body thought it was time to do if after work, after the holidays to just enervate me. But here I am...socked in the face with exhaustion, almost conveniently. I might not be able to make it to my New Year's Eve party, since this cold or whatever has only gotten worse since last Friday. And that's OK. I think doing it big like I did when I was young might not be what's in store for me this weekend. But we shall see. New Year's Eve is two days away. Beer pong awaits--*shaking my head*

Alright, back to mahjong and/or mouth breathing...

It's not about Christmas at all.

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Wed, 28 Dec 2011 02:00:00 +0000

And...we're back...

Image by anadelmann via Flickr

When I walked in the door of my apartment building, I saw flurries. I definitely am back in the Chi. *cough, sneeze* With some sort of upper respiratory illness. I don't know if it's a cold, because I sound worse than I feel, although carrying 30 pounds up almost four flights of stairs, plus however many more pounds on my back, while having some weird cold thing--it will not make you feel less tired.

Air travel is such a bitch! Within the last month, I've gone through three major hubs in the South, and all of them sucked. Today, I missed my flight, because we deplaned so late in Miami. Then I got lost and went to the wrong terminal. It didn't matter, though. By the time I got to where I needed to be, I would've needed 5-10 more minutes to walk, and it would've been the departure time. When I finally got to the right terminal (just next door to the one I was in earlier), it was 30 minutes later. When I changed out my ticket, the desk attendant asked, "Are you coming in from Pensacola?"--hmm, how did he guess? So my luggage go to Chicago three hours before I did. So I had overpriced, lukewarm chicken tenders from Nathan's (WTF is up with that place, anyway? Are the hot dogs really amazing? I'd really like to know!) and then took my profusely sweaty, runny nose self to my gate and hung out. I played Mahjong on my computer. And then even taking off, we were late almost an hour, because the flight originally was for 1:05pm, then it turned into 1:30pm, then it ended up being 1:50pm. Jesus. When I came to O'Hare, I saw a lot of delays. I wonder if these were storm-related. You would think American Airlines could just tell their passengers.

But boy...Miami culture...I swear, there was no immediacy in that deplaning, while we waited for those curbside valet suitcases. Like 10 minutes before the damned door opened. I won't be flying through there again. Over the holidays.

Heck--I will never do tight connection times over the holidays. Never. Lesson learned.

***

So, with that, the holidays...I am dead sure that next year, barring any deep romantic entanglements, I'll be at a spa, by myself, getting my ass, and everything else, pampered. I realized in that convo with Julie's...um...Uncle-in-law? Is that who he is? Anyway, the holidays has always been about me taking a back seat. Even my birth, my dad wasn't there. He was working. And whether I'm at "home" with my mom and brother, or elsewhere, I'm always going along with someone else's traditions. So when I was flying today, dozing on and off while dabbing my nose numerous times, I was wondering what I wanted to do with my birthday of Christmas.

And I did a little of that. In Julie's neighborhood, there was a Christmas lights extravaganza--spectacle, choreographed to music! I have no idea how this household strung all these lights AND were able to get 106.9 near their house only for this performance. It had a Mrs. Claus that was animated! I love Christmas lights and one tradition I had with my mom and brother, was after church on Sunday evenings during December, we'd go through different towns and look at Christmas lights. That's probably the one family tradition I had.

But how would I do Christmas? Well...I actually don't feel like sharing that here, besides next year finding some spa weekend. It's dependent on those fictional kids and husband that I have, and I have no idea how they will influence me. But I think I'm done spending Christmas with others as a singleton. To be frank, there's a lot of fretting about gifts from my end, and then a lot of disappointment about what people think I would like on the other end. And this happened last year. Some of the gifts I got from my now ex-friend were like after thoughts. I planned a fucking EXPERIENCE. Jeez.

And I was frustrated that I was laden down with a lot of those gifts today--thankfully, I got free luggage check-in because of my frequent flyer miles. They were cumbersome! The gift I cherish most is the one I got from Joy, Julie's youngest. The Anger Management journal for Angry Birds. Someone, this 10 year old girl picked up on this sort of latent, but palpable penchant of the game. It was so cute! Oh yeah, I got a sinus pillow in my stocking, because I had a bad sinus headache. But even the chocolate I got was off...ugh, I hate whining about stuff like this, BUT...

1) I'm now 34, meaning really set in my way. I'm a cranky old lady and I hate being bothered.

2) I really stress out about gifts. I feel like based on what I receive, it's more than usual.

3) Yet I am grateful that anyone thinks of me at all. I got the birthday AND Christmas presents. But this is my perfectionism, which is why #2--the stress--exists.

4) But the thoughts do count...the more thoughtful, the better. I gave gifts based on passions of each person, OR it referenced something we shared. They were, dare I say, spot on. And I can't fake being enthused over gifts that aren't um, for me. Thank God I was sick, because I said, straight up, I wouldn't be jumping up and down.

5) I will say that a new tradition that I want for my fictional family is hearing the Happy Birthday song at the very beginning of Christmas Day. Me first!

It sucks that I have this historical backlog of somewhat disheartening and disappointing Christmases, and I can't ask everyone to pay attention to me. Thus, Escape to Spa Mountain! But the backlog has more to do with the 364 days. I wonder if I'm shy because I wasn't seen in the first place? That convo on Christmas evening really has me thinking about how I see myself, because I don't really think about it. Which is the problem.

I feel pretty self-aware, and I thought I was being kinda jokey/kinda serious about how it sucks to have a Christmas birthday. I don't think it would be as painful if the rest of the year felt the same way--others were first. And this time of not being in church (which is, again, about putting others first, and not necessarily you)...when I was flying back in today, I can finally be grateful for it, because it was the first time, ever, probably since coming here for college, that it was about me. And the fake humble me feels like this is narcissism. But it's not. It's just a re-ordering. And I think Christmastime, again, it's not supposed to be about anyone except Christ OR others. Not me. So it's just become so acute, this need of wanting to be heard and seen, to get jewelry that I can actually use!

Anyway, if this time away from humanity was to learn that because my family didn't pay attention to me, I didn't pay the right attention to myself, and thus it affects how I present myself to the world....well, that's another gift that can't fit in a stocking or under a tree. True self-worth.

So it is about the gifts and Christmas, and it's not about the gifts and Christmas. I think questions that I really need to keep asking myself:

What do you really want?
What do you prefer?
How would you do it?
If you keep your desires shut up, what will you lose?

Maybe this resonates for at least one other person. I know this happens a lot at work (sexism, possible racism) and so there aren't many places where what I want really can happen except here in my apartment. And for fear of being alone, why not just go do what I want to do? I know that pursuing writing is a part of this culling of self-worth (it's a bloody way to do it, too).

Anyway, I'm just glad this time alone wasn't in vain. I think today was the first time I really embraced and appreciated this weird ass time, and I knew it could only be in retrospect. This really was my time to figure out what I wanted, and to figure that what I wanted--my tastes and preferences of all sorts--are important. Not because I have great taste--there is no arguing taste--but because I am a human being. I think there's a way to assert myself more without being a douchebag.

Friday, I'll be off of work, so I will be thinking about what I want to do on that day. And it will not involve cleaning (I hope). It seems heroic or meteoric to me right now, but this is what people do, all the time. And when you've been neglected, even by yourself, for decades, it's hard not to see the distance from where you stand to where you need to be as an exponential leap.

Granted, at the same time, I dunno if I could've found that in mud baths in California. Maybe? If I was lucky? And maybe it's about just finding truths for the part of the journey that you need, that you had been searching for, or didn't even know you were searching for...these truths when they needed to come. And I'm grateful.

And if I sound like a complete holiday hypocrite--that's fine. It all belongs, though. I can love my friends and hate getting so-so gift. Ironically, the best is spending quality time--I walked with Julie around the neighborhood twice, in the rain, just talking about all sorts of stuff. Those were the best moments this whole season. One on one. Just talking about life.

And beyond more deadlines that I need to conquer, with coughing, congestion, and sneezing, I don't know what next year holds. It's in a bit of inertia--I don't know if I will be more social. I don't know if I want to be. Winter in Chicago lends itself to good long reads--which I need to do if I go to grad school (well, and in general).

Anyway, let me stop. It's hard to be honest about Christmas and birthdays and families and gifts and relationships and friendships without banging into a lot of these mores about them. And I'm all banged up, and I probably look like a jerk. Maybe just to myself. But I'm all about finding hidden wounds and getting those stinky things healed. I'm glad but it's a very happy sad kind of gladness--"Hooray, we found the hidden wound! Oh, dear God! The wound has its own gravitational pull."

I'll try to write tomorrow. I feel like going to bed right now. I just might. Thanks for listening.

Happy 3rd anni, blog! [notes on a Xmas Bday]

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Tue, 27 Dec 2011 00:00:00 +0000

Another year rolls around, and this blog is one year older today!

Image by kaymoshusband via Flickr

Cheers to another year of TNATNY!

I should call this blog Tina Tiny, due to its acronym. Anyway, she's three years old today! I still can't believe it's been three years since I stopped pursuing medicine. Ironically, yesterday will have a lot to do with my first love--mental health!

So yesterday was rather busy. Around here I'm the first one to be up if no one is working. I believe everyone is up now, but they are all tucked away in their bedrooms. But we had chocolate chip pancakes, made by Faith, and opened up presents. I am pretty sure I have to check my luggage because I am weighed down by gifts! I know this is pretty gauche to list it all, but I got jewelry, a home fragrance system (warming these bricks of wax), an Angry Birds Anger Management journal, a gift card, and other odds and ends. And everyone liked their gifts that I gave them! We went to Julie's in-laws house and there were tons of people and tons of food.

With this cold or whatever I have, I haven't really had an appetite, although I unfortunately haven't not eaten like it's the holidays. Anyway, the matriarch of the family is attached to me from my last visit, so i sat down with her. A relative of hers asked me about my social work research, and that lead into a conversation about Ya Ya's childhood, and for Julie, it elucidated a lot as to why her in-laws are the way they are. Ya Ya actually cried a bit when talking about the abuse her brother received at the hands of her mother.

Then I got to talking to another relative about poverty and people on SSI benefits. Ugh. Where were my stats folks when I needed them, that most people getting those types of benefits are white? And that it's not about choosing poverty, but the lack of choices, perceived or otherwise. This blog post by Ta-Nehisi Coates was a great one in response to that loathsome article, "If I Was a Poor Black Child" which I will not link to, because it's some paternalistic, privileged b.s., although it's unfortunately about the delivery, not the content. The content/ideas are useful, but addresses the "poor black child" as someone who chooses to be poor. Anyway, I glamored him somehow and he felt like I should get my doctorate in psychology. Damn. I knew he was a conservative, but at least we weren't at each other's throats. I don't think I could've been as forward or strident as I want to be, but gosh darn it, it's Christmas, and I just met the dude.

Before that, I was telling him about my family and how mental illness has affected it. And how Christmas is hard, since it's my birthday, but then no one really makes mention of it until later. And he said, "You were not the center." And that was really poignant and insightful, eh? Again, I knew that was the truth, but I'm not good at being succinct. But I've always threatened that I will have my own family and do my birthday right.

And I really didn't even want to go to this house, with all the kids running around. But then if I didn't go, I wouldn't have had those experiences. And I got some surprise gifts--a soft, warm scarf and a pen with a light and a laser pointer. It was unexpected and it reminded me to not be so judgmental.

After we came home, we had my little birthday with my red velvet birthday cake. A tea light was the only candle we had, but it was good enough!

Now, I'm watching Rise of the Planet of the Apes with Julie. We were going to go to Mobile, AL, but it's completely storming over there right now. She's tired and I've got hay fever. It's cloudy over here.

Anyway, I'm gonna drink some more hot cider and spiced rum. Sorry if this blog post is a little disordered. I hope the next year of blogging is more consistent and mo' betta. Thanks for riding along and I hope you had a pleasant Christmas, and if you're still celebrating Hanukkah, or starting to celebrate Kwanzaa today, I hope it's a good celebration. Enjoy the short work week and I will write hopefully tomorrow if I'm not so tired.

Be well!

--d*

Christmas Eve thoughts

noreply@blogger.com (d*) — Sat, 24 Dec 2011 18:15:00 +0000

So this is Christmas (eve), and I feel ill. Great.

So I'm pretty sure I'm fighting off something. I just took some Airborne and some pain meds. It's the dreaded dry mouth from hell. But I'm sitting out here, on Julie's deck, soaking up some unexpected sunshine. The breeze is a little chilly, though. Julie's working on our Christmas Eve dinner--cornish hens, corn pudding, and yummy things. I feel a little unjolly, but mainly because I'm not feeling so swell.

I was thinking this morning, as I was coughing and still somewhat sleepy, that next year for Christmas, barring finding the LOML (love of my life), that I'll go on some spa retreat and just be luxuriated on. I keep saying that this will be the last time I crash on someone else's Christmas tradition--although Julie has been the best at making me feel at home. And it's like we lost so much time being apart, every moment to me is precious. But I dunno...massages all day long, soaking in mud or sea salts or whatever...if I'm in California, that would be wonderful. I'd just take time out for me. Heck, I wish I could do that right now. But I'm grateful for being here and having some time to relax, sleep in, and enjoy Julie and her family...

I also have been thinking about the grad school application. It's hella expensive! And if I don't get into grad school this round, I will definitely work on getting out of debt. At the same time, I'm really tired of my job. I know that a lot of this exhaustion has to do with one of the projects I work on, but it's also just the other project ramping up, and it's just a lot of tedious crap, so I can't come home and write like I'm used to. But I hope this winter, I can get to working on other things I've written this year. We'll see, though...winter is always a drain due to the lack of sunlight and the cold.

I feel pretty blank right now, and that's good. There's too much to think about most of the time. This is a vacation! Today, Julie's parents will come over for dinner, and then tomorrow, we'll have our Christmas and then go to her in-laws for a little bit. Then hopefully to Mobile on Monday. I'll probably write tomorrow, too. I just wish I had something more profound to say.

Alright, it's time to see Joy's pet shops, whatever that means. The sun is burning...Floridian problems, I know. So have a good day today, whatever you choose to do. :-)

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