Sadness of a Wednesday

Wednesday was a perfect day. I woke up nervous and tense, and by end of day I was steeped in sadness and all the feelings that had caused that sadness.

Luckily, I had the house to myself when I got home. I put down my bag and walked into the woods, visited the creek, then back up the hill. Visited my dog’s empty grave (coyote dug up his body) and talked to him for awhile. It was starting to get a little dark, so I wandered to the drive and back to the house. Steeping in sadness was the only cure for that sadness.

I was stunned to learn that there are people who never feel sadness. They take no responsibility for anything, just bowl their way thru life taking what they need without any regrets. If you’re having a bad day, they get irritated. “So what?” if something sad happened to you. They don’t care and it didn’t happen to them and if it did, they would ignore it. I met a fellow like this when I was going thru a hard time. I didn’t amuse him, so I didn’t know him for long. What happens to people like this when someone close to them dies? Anything? Is anyone close to them at all? Maybe they’re incapable of any reflection or remorse at all. Maybe that guy was an ordinary psychopath.

I am closer to understanding that concept of life being a process rather than a goal. A friend posted today that what goals you achieve are not as important as who you become as you work to achieve them. So here I’m taking voice lessons and wondering what the bleep I’m going to do with my newfound voice and there it is – who I am becoming as a vocal student is more important than the voice I’m developing.

I thought when I was young that natural impulses would get me what I needed and wanted in life. The older I get, the more deliberate I have to be. I decide everything after reviewing my impulses and tendencies and feelings. It’s artificial, it’s artifice, it’s art. I create my life, not stumbling from one need to another, but by considered, rational thought and willpower.

What can you say? Nothing is what it seems to be. Love is not an emotion; love is a series of decisions based in hope and faith. Diets aren’t for losing weight, diets are tailoring for health. And goals are a learning process, not, you know, goals.

My goals for today included running 5 to 8 miles. I took a leisurely morning and now cold rain has begun. What does that mean for my processing of self? I haven’t a clue.

When a Friend Has Chronic Illness

When a friend is sick with chronic illness, you can do nothing but love them. There is nothing else.

My dog died 2 months ago, and a good friend died last month. I watched a friend’s diabetic mother spike her blood sugar repeatedly, refuse to correct her diet or exercise, and die at 64.

How many times have I stated that when a loved one has cancer, you have the chance to forgive grievances, tell them you love them, maybe even the chance for some quality time. This is what we got when my dad was sick, and most of us stepped up. We knew he might not survive. We each had chances to phone him and spend time. You never know how much more time anyone has, but this steps up the urgency.

Not like heart attacks and gunshots and car wrecks, not those instances where someone is here one minute and gone the next. You were thinking about phoning a friend but 15 minutes before you do, they leave this plane of existence. Their body gives it up and is turned over to the care and feeding of ten trillion microbes.

Yeah, microbes. That’s where the body is supposed to go, to feed all the goomers and bugs and filaments that live in the Earth, that make soil a living thing. That’s how it’s supposed to work, not some freakish embalming that makes your body useless for the next 10 centuries. (Anthropologists of the future will thank you, tho. Think of them when you decide what you want buried with your body.)

Friends leave, family leaves, pets leave. I leave. Seasons pass, years pass, moments pass.

Every week I look up and think, “Is it __day again?” It’s another week that I haven’t finished my album, haven’t booked a concert, haven’t coordinated a dinner or authored my dreams. So much failure, slouching against the stream of time.

I have no advice against this. Today I took photos of a creek and walked in some woods. Pretended my deceased dog was walking with me. Hey, only-children are good at the imaginary friends game.

The sun set wihtout my asking and the Earth will turn to face Him again in the morning. Maple leaves are canary and cantaloupe, my friend is sick and I am in great shape.

It’s Heeeere

Recorded podcast this evening, had to request an edit. The topic that needed editing was work sensitive, i.e., me complaining about work. Hey, you’re around friends, you’re stressed, you say things that don’t need to be heard by the public.

The edit, according to Loyd, makes me sound like an alcoholic. In light of things, I am OK with this.

THe strongest hurricane ever recorded made landfall on Mexico’s west coast today. This monster, Patricia, has winds equivalent to an F5 tornado. It’s flinging cars like toys and flattening houses and forests. 30 years from now we will laugh hollowly and say, “Yeah, we thought that one was bad.”

I do what I can to tread lightly, as they say. I use squares cut from old T-shirts for facial tissues and plant trees. I use genuine cloth towels and washcloths, not paper towels or throwaways. I drive conservatively and turn off lights and faucets. I eat lots of organic food and less animal than plant material.

Surely, everyone will catch on before it’s too late. In time to pull back from the brink.
We have to, if we want to live. It’s not a movie, y’all. THese aren’t zombies or aliens or Kardashians. It’s real.

Moar Fail

I read that if you have more than 50% of the crowd on your side, you’re winning and that’s what counts. The point being, it is OK if you have detractors even if there are a lot of them. Go with the people who are glad to be on your side. working towards a singing career and writing songs and stories, this is important advice. But it’s also true for when you’re feeling discouraged, any time.

This isn’t advice for any circumstance; there are times when only a few people are in the right. working towards a singing career and writing songs and stories, this is important advice. But it’s also true for when you’re feeling discouraged, any time.

And then my brain says, I Can’t Handle ALl the Positivity!
DOn’t worry, it’s the sleep deprivation.
Which my daughter is also suffering, because High School Band.

I reminded her that getting straight A’s is not the real goal of high school. We’ve had this conversation before but it eludes her sometimes. It’s a somewhat hollow goal; really it means that you are the sort of person who is good at following the rules of curriculum. Your personality coincides with school organizers’ rules. It’s lovely if that works out for you; for the rest of us, it’s important to learn and strive but not for that particular mark. Go for B’s.
I am making huge mistakes and breaking lots of goals I set for myself. I’ve failed to blog every day, I failed to keep up my daily planner, I failed to sing and play every day. I didn’t run today even tho it was my day to run. I am failing left and right.

So, here I am, writing a blog even tho I failed to write every day. I had a voice lesson today too, even tho I haven’t gone to sing karaoke in months. I’ll probably fail a lot of things tomorrow, too.

See you there.

First World Fundamentalists and a Thanksgiving Cactus

Plot Planter
Vol 1
Ep 4

I ran on Saturday, ran 10 miles. Then I packed up a load of stuff from storage and headed home.

I’ve been separated from my stuff for 6 months. It looks very different to me now. Some things I look at and have no desire at all to own them. A few things have delighted me on sight, and a very few, I’ve been overjoyed to find.

I never have been interested in complicated things. As a child I wanted to own a backpack and a bicycle, a life where everything I owned had at least two uses.

I enjoy using things and having them when needed, but wish I could borrow most of what I use. I guess I’m built for community living? Or minimalism? Always thought this tendency stemmed from growing up as a military brat, moving houses fairly often, but it’s not a universal trait of military brats. I just like things to be simple. Maybe it’s an ADHD trait.

Fell asleep early Saturday evening, got up for a little while, then slept thru the night. A good night’s sleep is an occassion for joy.

SO after just 2.5 winters of unfrosted, carport-owning joy, I am facing winter sans carport again. Sullivan was covered in frost this morning, a mild frost but thorough in its coverage. I plan to make a microwaveable heat pad to go across the dashboard; hopefully the heat will rise and melt the windshield frost. And it’ll warm the interior a little bit, too. Running the motor at a standstill wastes petroleum. THat’s 0 miles per gallon, right there, in one of the least effecient motors we use. Definitely want a better solution.

Boyfriend needs a better job. A chef’s position in our town (not 25 miles into the big city) where the people are vested in the operation and are very good managers. Putting this out into the ‘Verse with a big slice of hope. He does very good work and is dedicated. Needs to find a job that deserves his level of work and will really benefit from having him there. Mutually beneficial and happy is the goal.

Houseplants are adjusting to life indoors. They really enjoyed the breezeway living they had, and now they are forced to live with window and lamp. Bless their hearts. Their little planty hearts. I have no idea what part of a plant is equivalent to our heart.

Read a blog today, a carefully constructed blog about how a Christian man should go about disciplining his wife. The first half of the blog demurred, gently arguing why people disagree with them on the perceived necessity of this fundamentalist lifestyle. I cannot pretend to be objective on this point; I came very close to vomiting when I read their points on why to discipline and how. I’m not against being offended, but I am very much against being abused. Their view of “discipline” is very similar to the emotional and psychological abuse I am far too familiar with. It frightened and enraged me.

Religion gets mis-used this way the whole world over.  Its power over the individual is used for control over the minds and lives of its people.  This is probably the most hateful mis-use of power known to humanity.

My friends posting about it were of the same mind as myself, I am glad to say. They were similiarly enraged and discouraged. I was glad to be among them, if only via social media.

I hope my Christmas cactus blooms this winter. It blooms at the dark of the year, which has usually turned out to be THanksgiving by its little planty reckoning. Different home this year, different exposure. It’s also been re-potted and has many new sprouts. We’ll see what turns up.

White Office

Plot Planter
Vol 1
Ep 5.41

Yesterday started with meditation and coffee, like it’s supposed to do. I felt rushed and busy from the past week’s schedule. I started yoga and writing about the same time, in addition to the singing and running schedule, and work and stuff.

Halfway thru the morning my daughter, who I was looking forward to seeing that night, to say, “Qua?” THere was no event in my town that night.
I had mis-read the calendar.
Really badly.

The event is two and a half weeks away, and the one I mistook for a Thursday event isn’t in my town. I felt stupid and honestly I was crushed. I cried at the drop of a hat for the next 3 hours, luckily I had no appointments.

I was supposed to run after work and was thinking about 3 to 5 miles. Boyfriend called, tho, and set up a meeting. We were going to meet his friend Mike E, they’re starting up a guitar shop. Re-starting on Mike E’s part; he had a shop for 25 years. They both play and BF wants to both help him and get into that business.

Voice lesson as soon as I got home. It went surprisingly well. Drank a few glasses of wine and fell into bed.

BUsy isn’t a unique problem. So much I want to do in each of my 24 hours.

Dreamt that the office removed all our cubicles and had us at white, anonymous, empty desks. It slowly got better as they added houseplants and artwork on the wall, then I found myself wandering halls full of school children taking naps on clean futons. I wound up staring out a round window in a white cement wall, at a momunment circle of a downtown scene.

Alarm clock.

Horrendous, Annoying, Nothing Dangerous Day

Kind of a horrendous day. In that mild, seriously annoying, nothing dangerous happened way. You know, those technical things at work that screw up because there isn’t a good method for handling the thing? And when you talk to people about what is causing the problem they argue that Jupiter’s big red spot isn’t really big and what can you say to that?

Forgot to take my allergy antigen drops this morning, so my eyes itched and my nose ran all day. Called Mom this morning, which was awesome-sauce, but that meant I forgot to do my 6 minute meditation. I haven’t kept up with my day planner and I failed to write yesterday. I suck. I fail. I have to be OK with this and get over it. ugh.

Still have glass recycling in my car and could not go to the dump today, tomorrow it’s closed and Friday I have another lunch meeting. So I’ll have bottles rattling around my car for another 3 days and they’ve already been there three days. Double ugh. More fail.

But I DID manage to fulfill a promise, packing two more boxes of books and putting all 4 boxes into my car and giving them to the family up the street who homeschools their 6 children. I bought honey and vegetables from them and she mentioned that one of her older daughters has genius-level IQ and LOVES to read. They’re tossing books into the recycle bins at work so I’m desperate to find people who need reading material.

I really don’t understand why any books ever get tossed. So many people need to read.
So much stuff gets thrown away. So much useable stuff. I hate that.

I had some serious revelation earlier today, one of those physics-meets-humanity-with-Gandhi at the wheel kind of revelations, the kind that is so mind-blowing that you’re sure you will always remember. I have no idea now what it was.

Maybe it was about time travel? No, that was a few days ago. RIght, where I realized that if a time machine used a transporter-kind of thing that turns the body into light waves, that at the end of your trip when you re-formed you would not really be made of the same atoms. So there would be no paradox in meeting yourself. Because you’d be made of all different matter. I felt super-smart about that one but I’m sure some geek could bust that idea in a moment.

So I was looking forward to a quiet, relaxing evening but ended up in conflict, angry and frustrated. I managed to work thru it, partly thru planning some gardens. I don’t have a gardening computer app or planner like I WANT to have, because it doesn’t exist. But maybe I could draw it myself and color it with my colored pencils.

Positive side:  might have solid agreement to get rid of some useless crap.
Colored pencils are awesome. Not as awesome as red wine, or Jupiter’s red spots. But awesome.

Did yoga this morning and treadmill walk this evening, so I feel totally smug.

I used to be so proud of my very accurate, in-depth memory. But that memory appears to have been fueled by the state of constant anxiety I lived in, where my lizard-brain carefully recorded everything in case it helped me survive. But now I have learned that creative, effective people have very little memory, they let the past go and re-create themselves, project by project. I want to be a creative, effective people. I also want to believe that I did it right all along, fighting to survive the way I did. I want credit for still being alive. heh.

Ok, I am going to wash my potato crisp-crusted fingers and try to relax. Ugh.

And also, one of my teeth appears to be disintigrating. At least I know now why I’ve had a mild, occassional toothache around that. Having a hard time seeing the bright side of that.

Hardy Cyclamen Sounds Like a Pharmaceutical Marketeer’s Character

Plot Planter
Vol 1
ep 2

Storms coming in. Read today about people facing bizarre weather due to Climate Change. One guy wrote about hurricane-strength straight line winds in Michigan that ripped full grown trees straight out of the ground. Another wrote that he just barely missed the 8 and 10 feet of snow that hit New England last year. He said, Sure we get lake-effect snow but NOT like THAT. Sounds like the message is finally sinking in.

Meditation this morning was a mess, I kept daydreaming but did eventually get thru the basics. Maybe 6 minutes isn’t long but it’s 6 more minutes than I’d been doing before and that is pretty effing awesome in my book. See? Deadlines ARE good things.

Tried to look up the marching band grand nationals that are going on next month. No schedule, just dates. Site didn’t even post what time the events began each day. Just the place and dates. Oh, and ticket prices, because of course they want to sell those. I’d like to take a Megabus to get there but need to know start times so I can figure if I’ll arrive in time or not. Of course, with Megabus there’s really only one option, and that’s to go on Friday and leave Saturday afternoon or Sunday afternoon. Not a lot of options. But hey, it’s like $10 both ways or something ridiculous like that.

Got to have dinner with a friend tonight. Asked my boyfriend what he thought of her place and he said it looked pretty much like mine. Heh! We both love bright colors, in order, with lots of house plants and sparkly, dangling, jingly things around. At work I really need to hook up a tree frog sound generator to make my jungle more legit.

Listened to some odd music today, lots of 90’s and 00’s, like Christina Aguilera and Fun. Nice to have something different for a change.

Mary told me that someone in Sweden developed a tube that drained food directly from your stomach into a bag so that you could overeat on purpose. EW. E to the freaking W!!

Why is it that I just have to have houseplants? I suffer without them. But I don’t know why that is so. Is it just indoor gardening? I suffer without gardens, too. Living in an apartment was tolerable for a few months but then I was literaly grieving for places to dig and plant. I’m not a terrific gardener – most of my fruits and vegetables suffer – but I still love to do it. I love to design gardens too, altho probably half my gardens are spontaneous or just did not follow my plan.

The hardy cyclamen I transplanted at Sunrise last autumn has bloomed! And the one I transplanted here at Asbury has bloomed consistently, too. Probably helps that it’s only a foot away from the compost drain. So it’s flush with food.

Paintings are going up around the house. It’s nice to see some of them again. Others, I realize I’m not as fond of. I think putting most of my stuff into storage has really cooled my attachments to many things. Probably time to declutter my clothes, too. Funny – this year’s decluttering project was houseplants. I gave away quite a few of them.

There are times when I wish I only had 3 pair of shoes – sandals for summer, clogs for winter, boots for labor. But I’m glad I have as many as I do. I probably have a dozen pair of shoes, maybe even more. It really is too much, I need to give away one pair and throw away at least one other.

It’s the middle of October, almost Hallowe’en. I want to buy pumpkins and enjoy the season before it flies by! I need to re-start my gratitude practice too, even if it is corny or hokey. It makes a really big difference in my life, focusing on positives and what I am grateful for.

Stood for at least an hour today at work, and spent some of that standing time in Chair Pose. So helpful for my back and core muscles. 🙂

Repotting

Plot Planter
episode 1
volume 1

I need to overcome my lack of fear of death. I know, it’s supposed to work the other way around but in my case, I keep thinking I have plenty of time. This works against the Creative’s need for deadlines. Deadlines. I think that etymology should work in my favor.

I asked Janet Lee to do a tiny Baby Groot card for me. I’m excited! Original artwork! Need to mail her a check.

Plants are inside now. House plants are tropical and can’t do cold weather. October gets cold quickly, we could have frost any day now.

I put lettuce seeds in the kitchen garden but the cat used the beds for a litterbox. And there’s deer everywhere all of a sudden. Gardening at Asbury is an entirely different situation than it was at Sunrise.

There’s a bug of some sort on one of my houseplants, looks like a stinkbug. Have to get rid of it. It may suffer a burial “at sea”.

Very frustrated about the fact that no sooner had I decided to sing for half an hour every evening, the elm pollen kicked up and I’ve had a sore throat and earaches ever since. Maybe that was a hint to start writing again?

My creative outlets include: Gardening, Sewing, Singing, Baritone Ukulele, Painting, Writing, Dancing, and probably a few other things I don’t recall off the top of my head. I used to do crochet but my shoulder is too tight now for it. Trying to balance all of these is difficult. All of them are important to me, music and writing most and gardening and dance next. Surely all these things can work together in me. There is definitely a way to do all of them and still be good at music, writing music and writing.

I need to figure this out because I’m frustrated with my lack of focus and accomplishment. So, what tools do I have at hand? I can: Set Intentions, Cast Spells, Meditate, Set Reminders on my Phone, Be Accountable, Set an Example, Assist Fellow Creatives. WEll that sounds promising.

Is there a Creative Deadline Training Program? Like when athletes train for a race or game? Surely the same kind of system can work. Practice 4 days a week and game on Friday night, right? 🙂 Two days off per week. So what do you practice? I guess some practices are just play the game, but mostly it’s learning how to play the parts of the game and repreating until you understand it. Well, that’s how it works for music.

Or, there’s Making a Dress analogy. FIrst, gather raw material. Then, you spin thread. Then, you weave cloth. Then, you dye cloth. THen, you choose style of dress. Then, you choose pattern. Then, you cut pattern. Then, you sew pieces together. THen, you add finishing touches like buttons, embroidery, and measure the hem.

I think this is a good analogy! Since I know nothing about sports except for running, it’s unlikely I’d be able to draw an analogy to sports practices. RUnning is a simple sport, it’s more analogous to just part of the Dress analogy.

I forgot to set a timer, I don’t know how long I’ve been writing. I feel like I’m done. Maybe I should write a certain number of words per day. Or have a dual minimum; at least so many words and/or so much time spent.

All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl
All work and no play makes Jane a dull girl
All work and no play – 😀

Crank It One More Time, See if It Starts

I’ve been a writer since 1977. Poems, songs, stories grow up within me and I pour them onto paper.

Far too many of my works get re-absorbed, unborn. I’ve been writing and creating for 38 years and except for high school poetry journal, I have yet to be published.

My spiritual Mother came to me in meditation this morning. She told me to fail, to fail a lot, to fail often and publicly. That the terror I have of failing is exactly the same dread and anxiety I feel just before going to run. And running has taught me that that anxiety is just the birth pangs of excitement.

Suppressed creativity is like holding your breath, like swallowing air, holding spiders in your hands, leaping from nothing to nothing.

I’ve been taught that engaging in creative practices is a waste of time. So many jokes about starving art majors and people telling you – without saying as much – that the arts are worthless. They say this because they know that artists can be squeezed.

Oh good grief – that just sends me into a spiral of conspiracy-laced, victimized anger. Which helps me not at all. Because of course people want stuff for free, regardless if it’s a small plastic toy or an A list movie.

Ok, anyway. I aim to fail by means of writing a whole lot, performing all the time, falling flat on my face and getting up again and again and again. Until I die.

Wish me luck.