radiohead {part 3,591 and a half}

yes. i know very few reading will not groan inwardly to see that nine letter word gracing the title of this email.

but.
i.
can't.
help.
it.

their music gives life to a part of me that i can't really fully explain. describe. articulate into english or any other language for that matter. even art. which hurts the most. i want to make art that speaks of how my self can be moved to these places. of what colors i sense when i am living in their songs. at the beauty and vibrancy i discover time and time again just by entering the doorway their music provides.

i want to create art that offers doorways like this to other people.

and in the meantime, i know i have been walking the yellow brick road of the recent radiohead tour hoping to find something/anything at the other end. an emerald city. a wizard. a magical spell to get back to my very own kansas. something. and it's been a journey i still have not found words to use to preserve it. i need to find an assemblage of verbal formaldehyde. something, anything to tether the entirety of my experience at the three shows this summer {and perhaps, more importantly, what i have left in my hands after the shows}.

and the driving desire to go back and rewrite (yes, i have several drafts) and reremember is still strong and i've been futilely struggling with something in me that is preventing me from going back to such a tender and charged place.

and.

it's coming back in bits and bobs with the approach of the spring '09 tour to central and south america.

it turns out that the brazil shows are happening before my class gets out and those are the ones i had my heart set on. i can make it to chile for two days at a festival, but i don't really want to wade through a whole festival to see them. and for some reason, chile doesn't have as much excitement for me as brazil does.

and rustling up from somewhere {or nowhere} are questions such as: why this driving need to see them? will you actually let yourself feel the show now {i failed three times in a row this summer}? is it really worth the time and money? sure if i had the latter growing on trees, but it would be a s t r e t c h for me to make it, so why am i willing to stretch so far to see them without first considering spending the money you really don't have anyway to see my father who is going blind from diabetes over in austria?

and a few answers surface as well: yes, i think i will let myself feel. i had a breakthrough in acting class that i think relates, of anticipating an emotional result and stopping myself from experiencing anything. it shouldn't be a problem. and yes, it would be worth the time and money. and of course you would rather go on an adventure down to a continent you haven't been to yet and see your favorite artist of all time. you know your trip with you dad will be hard for so many reasons.

i wish it weren't an either or. i wish i could do both. i wish i could just go and see. see. see. and live. and experience and get to go to these shows as much as i wanted. to drink in these moments of complete artistic inspiration. they are the best moments of life and so why does there have to be such a fight to have them?


currently listening to: radiohead on shuffle, but punchup at a wedding just finished and now a live version of idioteque is next in the queue which was replaced by scatterbrain.

i am a city girl

last week i walked ten minutes to cafe presse.
a french bit of loveliness.
on my way i passed a fabric store,
a grocery store,
banks,
cafes,
the old location of freehold {sniff sniff},
countless restaurants,
and more.


today i strolled cap hill for an hour or so and went into said fabric store which is positively delightful, and the art store and bead store too. my friend got coffee from b & o, a decadent dessert place just up the street, and now i've been perched upstairs in bauhaus for three hours writing {artist's way, journal, blog, emails} and savoring the flux of late night coffee goers.

i feel alive here. close to things and people. i feel like i finally live in a city.

perfectionism

from the words of julia cameron's the artist's way:

perfectionism has nothing to do with getting it right. it has nothing to do with fixing things. it has nothing to do with standards. perfectionism is a refusal to let yourself move ahead. it is a loop–an obsessive, debilitating closed system that causes you to get stuck in the details of what you are writing or painting or making and to lose sight of the whole. instead of creating freely and allowing errors to reveal themselves later as insights, we often get mired in getting the details right. we correct our originiality into a uniformity that lacks passion and spontaneity. "do not fear mistakes," miles davis told us. "there are none."

to the perfectionist, there is always room for improvement. the perfectionist calls this humility. in reality, it is egotism. it is pride that makes us want to write a perfect script, paint a perfect painting, perform a perfect audition monologue.

perfectionism is not a quest for the best. it is a pursuit of the worst in ourselves, the part that tells us that nothing we do will ever be good enough–that we should try again.

my reasons to give thanks.

{in no particular order}

1. meisner channeled through robin lynn smith who simultaneously supports and challenges me every single class.
2. my entire class {ditto on the note above}.
3. friends. friends who i can accept at face value. who tell me when they're disappointed in me or when i've hurt them. who aren't afraid of conflict. who tell me when they love me. who tell me when they have a crush on me {with no strings attached} or when they can't stand me at the moment. who share their delight of the universe. who surprise me and inspire me and call me forth to be a better person. who are honest. who walk their talk. you know who you are.
4. family. as daughter of two, the youngest of four and the eldest of two. and those who i wasn't born with but have chosen as parents or siblings. you know who you are.
5. my new home. all five flights leading up to it. the view from the window. the hard wood floors and a bathroom that is monochromatically gray/green. cap hill. the apartment managers dennis and yvonne. the red carpet in the hallways and the closet that holds more than one would imagine.
6. my art. the art i've made. the art that i will make. the people that are involved in the process. and the driving force behind it all that keeps me up at night and casts my world in shifting colors.
7. hope. {carefully excluding fantasies parading around in hope's clothing}
8. a broken heart. it burned like mad, but taught me more than i can fathom even now that i'm on the other side.
9. crushes. they burn like mad and reflect a less than flattering picture of myself which i must reconcile some day. certainly adds a spice to things.
10. best friends. perhaps this should have been at the top. yes, you know who you are. and you also know i have no words for you.
11. my magic. which i discovered i have again after my charmed apartment search.



currently listening to: matthew goode that is coming from my brother's computer.

meisner - day 18

we've been assigned scenes.
i am poor
i am french.
i am not as innocent as i am treated.
and i am blackmailing someone.

we did a "mechanical read" in class where you are not supposed to look at your partner. after the last line that i deliver with a little dig, my partner and i looked up at each other with quite a loaded look.

zap.

this is going to be a charged scene. i can tell already.

meisner - day 17 {hell hath no fury}

we were on fire. pretty literally.

every class we have two people working on each exercise. one person is inside the room doing a very physically difficult task that is motivated by circumstances that are life altering. these can be good life altering or bad life altering. the person coming into the room is also coming from circumstances that are life altering, but their circumstances are tied to the person in the room. somehow the person inside caused this thing to happen, and they will either want to blame them or feel thankful for them.

hopefully i'm not being too confusing.

so, last night, i was inside preparing the room for my little brother. he was returning from iraq paralyzed from the waist down. he had to move in with me rather than his parents because i lived closer to the medical facilities he would need.

i was going to set up the bed with my red comforter. and the couch would hold a diptych of a flock of birds i painted - set in front of the bed so he could always look at them. my computer would be set up on the bedside table that was a crate, just like i use in my spaces. dvds and books and my music collection would be put out in easy reach. i was going to change into my radiohead t-shirt i got down in santa barbara when he bought me my pit ticket. i had a beeswax candle and a paper weight with a dandelion in it for him. and lastly, i was going to install a string of lights above his bed in the shape of a tree {half the celtic tree of life which is tattooed on his calf}.

that was, until my partner came in and the argument started. from moment number one we were at odds. at each other's throats. and pretty quickly the yelling started. and i got more mad at someone i have ever been in my entire life. ever. and i didn't check it like i would in the real world.

and i think the moment that still haunts me a little is when i saw him stumble backward a bit and this look of anger and shock registering on his face and i realized my hands in between us were the ones that had pushed him of their own volition. the actor inserted asserted itself for a second to say don't hurt him and then the argument resumed.

i wasn't even thinking. i didn't have to. stuff flew out of my mouth as though it was true we've been together for 6 months and you don't even know what branch of the military my brother is in? and how can you compare a stupid ex girl friend to the loss of some one's limbs?!?!?!

i'm getting worked up again just thinking about it. i was on fire. swathed in this vibrant cloak of fury and it was probably the most real piece of acting i have ever done. ever. and i get now how just packing the circumstances with truths that are important to me or i can connect to will make me come alive in ways i don't even understand. that it frees me to accept things and live them truthfully {like the fact that this man was my boyfriend of six months and even the fact that my brother was so seriously injured} without having to think about them.

and he stormed out. and i let him go. and then went to the door and shouted something at his back - i don't even remember what. and robin let me return to my activity for quite a while. i tried unsuccessfully to untangle the lights so i could hang them, but i was shaking too much. threw them down. did a few other things. came back to the lights. i paused with the heaviness of it all then resumed my futile attempts. it felt like a long time of wrestling and seething. and then she let me finish.

i went out to get my partner to contact him (a theater technique of "exiting" the circumstances) and pretty much threw myself into his arms. and we just stood there. for a long while, as i shook and he gently patted the back of my head.

then we went inside to discuss it with the teacher. no notes of constructive criticism, just acknowledgment of breakthroughs. and it was almost comical how easily we could slip back into the space while discussing our individual circumstances. after i made you dinner and did all those nice things for you!?!?! then: wait, breathe. scootch and put an arm on him and remind yourself that wasn't real, nathania. then: i can't believe you were still thinking about her! the momentum was really powerful.

later, with cheeks still warm from the heat and body still a little jittery, i had to make sure he was okay for receiving that much anger, which, growing up, was reserved only for my father to express. and yes, of course, he was. and even hours later when i went to bed, my heart was still racing and my mind was playing through the argument like a loop and finding things i wish i had said, or points i wish i had made, which was curious, because it wasn't a real argument.

i couldn't even contemplate sleep because i was so antsy, so i pulled out my journal and began to write:

my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances. my heart is still racing from imaginary circumstances.

again and again until i found the big slice of truth i hadn't realized was staring me in the face. he had hit the jackpot with one of my biggest fears: there being another woman who means more. which, the ex of his circumstance obviously had. after six months of helping him through really tough times {he had lost his job, borrowed my car, stayed at my place, etc} he was still thinking of someone else.

and that, coupled with being completely present with me in our conflict, was a brilliant gift on his part.


i love being an actor.

move out/in - day one

i drove away from my ballard house this morning and almost got teary-eyed realizing this was the last time i would drive to work from this house. it's been a densely steeped ten months. and well worth the oftentimes bitter flavors.

as i shed this next layer of skin, i am in touch with sloughing off more than just disappointment, i am letting go of the illusions of perfection i have kept tightly bound to my memories of jaimini. even in the face of some cowardly and hugely insensitive decisions on his part, i kept him glued to the pedestal of all things wonderful. and that's not fair. to him or me. and somehow it's been within this process of moving that i've come to terms with a greater sense of truth and peace and forgiveness. for both of us.

it happened when taking down the hook i had specifically put up for his set of keys {a mere day or two before things started to unravel}. i found it in packing up the kitchen where we cooked a few meals during that last week. in leaving behind the bed we dreamt our converging dreams in. the rooms we painted.

all the hopes, no matter how temporary are tied to this space. as well as the fears and grief {though the worst of that was thankfully spent during the weeks of house sitting - a huge gift to be able to leave behind those spaces}.

and there is no regret in closing the door for the last time on these things.

and i have a softness for us. and most especially for myself. for letting myself be led down the path that evidently i needed to travel in order to reach these places that i have been able to go. it unhemmed me and revealed all this stitching gone awry and the last ten months have been a sacrifice for myself. to pick out/rip/tear each stitch. and yet i am more in touch with the fact that there are no mistakes here. no accidents. no user errors. just a path traversed and lessons learned.

and most importantly: i have finally come to terms with the fact that i needed a relationship as real and intense and serious as ours to take me to these places i needed to rework. nothing shy of meeting someone i felt i could marry would have forced me to where i have gone. and for that, i am grateful. forever and ever.



so, it's the next chapter. the next offering on the alter to myself and my connectivity to the people and spaces around me. it's to my growth as an actor. as a real city dweller. as an artist who emits her colors in the smallest of moments stolen between 10:15 & 10:16 each morning or in the grandest of schemes like a class that draws me irrevocably forward as a performer and as a human being.

so, to life and my new nest:

this kitchen isn't for shorties. notice how i'm standing on my toes to reach this shelf.

currently listening to: my belly gurgle it's appreciation of the lovely pho i fed it looong after it passsed the 'so hungry i could eat a horse' stage. contemplating the coconut milk ice cream downstairs. mmm...mint chocolate chip and a bath....{i got both the ice cream and that bath}

over the river and through the woods

[11.15.08 ten15am.com submission]

to grandmother's house i go. quite literally.

it's a lovely drive down interstate 5 through the nisqually region and willamette valley {my two favorite parts of the drive} and for the first time i was making it entirely alone. no mother. no siblings. just jasper {my car}, my music and myself.

the weekend was restful. it was grandma's 83rd birthday. we went out to dinner. we went to the trees. we stood by grandpa's grave {unfortunately the bench was too wet to use}. we bought some groceries. ate lamb chops for dinner. i finished my book astrid & veronika. took a nap. sudoku after dinner. early start the next day. silent drive home as i made some decisions about my meisner assignments for class.

music on the drive: horsefeathers. the village soundtrack. radiohead {at the very end}.

the view from grandpa's grave.

a typically wonky iphone photo, but good smiles.

the house is like a little museum of curiosities.
the objects and their implied stories have always fascinated me.
and i notice something new each time.

aaah. books.
this is where it comes from.

[11.16.08 ten15am.com submission]

currently listening to: mondo '77 - looper {the current play count after having it on repeat for the last hour or two: 53}

tonight:

i'm listening to looper.
specifically mondo '77 from geometrid.
i'm dancing around my room while i'm packing up my wardrobe.
i had two amazing girl friends over for an hour or two.
we planned a slosh and slumber party at my new place {soon! }.
and i'm going to find my way to brazil at the end of march i just know it.



and.
for tonight.
these things are enough and all is well with my world.

radiohead - spring 09 tour

they are starting to release the dates.
they are starting to sell tickets.
and i don't know how.
and i don't know when.
but i will see them play this spring in south america.






currently listening to: fog - radiohead

meisner - day 16

eight weeks of class. ateeightaye't.

and finally.

i can feel myself going somewhere again.

which shouldn't negate the movement i have made, just that it {perfectionistically} wasn't in this area where i felt way behind the rest of the class: in connecting to my circumstances. in feeling them emotionally. in putting that experience into the space between the two actors. so much juicy stuff has been happening with my fellow classmates and i've felt like a stale piece of bread shuffling around on stage.

until today.

i did my homework as well as i could.
with more focus than i have ever been able to give my task before.
and outside in my prep before entering, i went back to my visceral sense memory of my family photographs and just sat in the experience of looking through page after page of my family photographs.
my baby pictures.
photos of my parents as a young couple not knowing what they were getting themselves into. holding hands.
my sister on the cheerfully yellow slip and slide.
my siblings. my siblings. my siblings.
me in front of the deer cage at the stables.
my mom and me at the picnic table at presley lake.
my grandparents on both sides visiting us in alabama.
my dad in a blue shirt.
family photos.
top garden.
me in my swish holding momma cat.

a flood of images often interrupted by noises and sounds and thoughts about what i would do when i got inside the room or what it would look like working with will or what i should be feeling. and yet each time i caught myself then redirected with as little judgment as possible and slipped back into this wealth of images surfacing in my mind's eye.

and then i imagined them all burning in a fire.

i didn't start crying in the hallway. i didn't even have an identifiable emotional response, but the circumstances were alive in me. completely. my heart was racing and my body felt charged.

and that's all i carried with me to the door. i didn't know what i was feeling or how it would come out. it was this glorious surrendering of control and inside it took me to sobs it took me to shouting and it took me to laughter. exhausted. beaten. laughter.

so yesss. tonight was a victory.



currently listening to: fog - radiohead

++++++++++++++boundaries+++++++++++++

bound⋅a⋅ry

(boun'də-rē, -drē)

1. something that indicates bounds or limits; a limiting or bounding line.



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i am getting better about setting them........................................



but it's still hard.//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{it takes me a while to find my voice.}

particularly when it means someone else important is being hurt/disappointed/whathaveyou at the expense of my own safety and self care. i know i have left myself stranded in terrible relationships {of various shapes and sizes} because i haven't had the courage to speak the words that define where i end and you begin. or even simply lacking the guts to say this isn't a failure on either of our parts, but goodbye.



and conversely, i have regretted the loss of other relationships that i could have kept had i just spoken. up. sooner...............................................................................................................................



another definition which has interesting implications for relationships:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::



2. also called frontier. mathematics. the collection of all points of a given set having the property that every neighborhood of each point contains points in the set and in the complement of the set.


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my ipod is on shuffle and the currently offering is: grey - eden smith

currently listening to:

the boy with the thorn in his side & elusive by scott matthews. those are two separate songs.

i was listening to the national (and note: not horsefeathers posing as the national) and the pause before a song attacked me with a sudden craving for the boy with the thorn in his side. and predictably elusive followed.

i love the slow start and sigh before the start of elusive.



these two songs are heavy with memories and i wonder why i decided to relive them right now.

goodbye ballard

i have less than one week as a resident of this lovely neighborhood. it's been a blast.

thank you for the lovely walks/runs out to sunset park overlooking the sound and golden gardens and the mountaints.
thank you for ballard market with the best chocolate chips ever.
thank you for the sunsets.
thank you for the sky.
thank you for the neighbors and the convenience of sonic boom and folktown.
thank you for my lovely rooms that felt like they were in a treehouse.

thank you for a fantastic housemate. i can't image better for this time and these themes i lived.
and
thank you for housing me in this mourning period.
and thank you for shoving me out of the nest at precisely the right moment.

5 days left and counting.

currently listening to: super collider - radiohead

meisner - day 15

i have a hard time being vulnerable under imaginary circumstances. being present? check. spontaneous and in tune with my partner? check and check. but somehow as soon as i am having to rely on my dramatic imagination, criticism from my audience becomes a big. friggin. deal. and i freeze up.

and this is one of the things i will need to let go of in my acting.

robin gave one great note from the sidelines that had an immediate effect. take the lid off, guys. and suddenly i sake so much further into what i was doing: meticulously cutting out paper leaves to be painted red and inscribed with messages to my father. a last chance of inparting hope in such a hope/helpless life.

i keep catching myself holding back. but only after the fact. i know i freaked one scene partner out a tad and i can't even imagine what would have happened if i had exploded the way i know i could have.

aiflsmaiwfjsldcl......i'll get there. i just have to trust the process.

trust, nathania. seriously.

i'm listening to thom crackle through the live version of super collider. the life altering event i conjured for myself for today's class was that i had been invited into the studio for the making of radiohead's next album. i was going to be documenting the process with pin hole cameras, holgas (take that stupid security guards at the santa barbara bowl!), video, iphone camera, etc. just crazy wacky things. and i was going to watch their art unfold. sit down to tea with them. dance like a madwoman around the studio with thom. play a fruit shaped shaker. it was a glorious fantasy.

back to reality. and my seven hours of sleep are reduced to about 6 and a half, so i'm off.

madly yours,

n.

postcard mania

i'm sending a lot out today. i've written eleven already.





{and i finished the day writing 18}



currently listening to: a punk - vampire weekend

tactile.

recently i've found or been given several words in particular that define something very specific about myself. these parts have almost go unnoticed, and yet, are brought to sudden prominence in my understanding of myself in the simple process of being named.

resonance.
preservationist.


and just last night: tactile.

what a perfect little word for the way my fingers savor the texture of my scarf and explore the cropped ends of my hair. for the almost absentminded snagging of leaves from shrubs or trees as i go on walks. and then the methodical shredding of the fibers into little pieces that i finally breathe in their earthy fragrance before passing them on to the sidewalk. it's the desire that wants to touch someone when i'm connecting on a deeper level or even just reach out for and caress a colored object that catches my eye.

it's a driving motivation that informs so many moments of my life. the standard bearer for how i savor this world. and before yesterday, it was nameless. but, thanks to jesse, i have an articulated idea to tether this whole part of my self to. and it can be held. and owned. and preserved.

and that's important because i'm a preservationist....

currently listening to: milk thistle - conor oberst

shuffle hop step

{a simple tap exercise i remember from the days of kelly's dance academy. i can still feel the rail on my back and the expanse of mirrors showing us what we were doing - mostly wrong, but we were 4 and 5 after all.}

today's shuffle:

gay sons of lesbian mothers - kaki king
it's a fire - portishead
sunset soon forgotten - iron & wine
raining in athens - azure ray
cigarettes - hey marseilles
lyla - cocorosie
analyse (live from the basement) - thom yorke
lover, you should have come over - jeff buckly {and maybe i'm too young to keep good love from going wrong}
the great escape - patrick watson

meisner - day 14

was. rough. and i don't even see a light at the end of the tunnel. i just want to crawl into bed and stay there for a month or two.

i snagged robin for a few moments at the end and she looked me in the eye and said: you cannot be perfectionistic about this work. perfectionism will kill you.



full stop.

priorities

some things that are more important than getting 7 hours of sleep:

sitting in my car for an extra 10 minutes because i didn't want to carry all my shit in from the car.
going with my impulse to draw up a full bath for myself {lavender epsom salts and bubble bath included} instead of stopping at a foot soak to warm up my frigid feet.
reading that one extra section of my current book astrid & veronika while in aforementioned bath.
blogging about the process of taking care of myself at the end of a long day {details to follow}.



so far i've been doing well. this will be only the 2/11 nights i have been in bed for less than 7 hours. and, the above was a higher priority, so goals can be damned.

mulling spices of the thought variety

hope not grounded in reality is fantasy.

and conversely:

despair is not the loss itself, but the refusal to grieve the loss.

~michael hyder.

and.

i do both. and it's why i always seem to find myself spinning my wheels in the sand and trying to call it movement.

currently listening to: pretty voice - cloud cult {another recommendation from tom}

meisner - day 13.5 {revenge}

"life being what it is....we all dream of revenge."
-kaki king

.............................................................................................................

i think i'm beginning to get it. what it takes in terms of homework for class. robin encourages us to become obsessed with the things that really move us, and i have been sinking into who and what would drive me to revenge.

and i think i found it. at least one of the many its. and there is a spiciness and excitement to the homework and it's not even work.



actually, here are all the lyrics to "life being what it is" by kaki king:

he put a note in my pocket, said “be good to yourself” and that was all
life being what it is
we all dream of revenge
open your eyes for a second
just to roll them at me

i stared straight into the sun
something to concentrate on

oooo oooo

and if you turn it on you’d find
i’ve written you a thousand times
you would do anything
you’d give up everything for
god knows why

i just can’t stay till your gone
i won’t wish you well
i won’t see you off
i won’t try to call if i see you in my mind i'll say to you it’s not your fault

you said i’ll see you in september
but that’s not long enough for me
you put a note in my pocket
so it would take care of me
but that was all

currently listening to: carolyn's fingers - cocteau twins {via tom s.'s recommendation}

meisner - day 11, 12 & 13

at some point last week i realized i hadn't written about day 11 and 12.

and then i realized, there wasn't much to say.

11 was a breeze, it is easy for me to be present with a partner, and day 12 went in a billion directions, but the only pretty ones were the ones that were echoed by the cheers of all the different election parties that were happening around our space. the ugly ones were all tethered to disappointment in giving myself amazing circumstances but not allowing myself to really let what was going on for me take over. i was furious. i was grieved. i was a whole lot of other things besides. and i didn't let myself go there.

so i let myself down. big time.

and i let down the circumstances which were beautiful and tragic and something i wanted to explore anyway {more details on that to come when i have enough time to write that doesn't cut seriously into my sleep}.

and today. was just 3+ hours of watching other people. because my partner wasn't ready to go. so i just got to sit. and listen. and i learned a ton from feedback she gave others.

but i wanted to do. prove. move. put me in coach!

tuesday will come soon enough. i know. and i am shit scared of the place i've chosen to explore.


here be dragons!!!

and it involves:
a brother.
a red dress.
and revenge.

packing mania.

john is amazing.

full stop.

between the two of us, we packed all my books, 99% of my art supplies, all my boxes, most of my kitchen supplies, half my clothes and some other stuff to boot. all in less than 24 hours. and yes, we did sleep and eat.

and....

i love my wooden crates.

clothes.

it's hard to get rid of them. even the low self-esteem outfits. even the pieces you know you hate and have been cautiously avoiding for months {years?!}.

the jury is out on a few things that might come in handy at some point. if i just had the guts i would kick them out. but for some reason there is this doubt that new and better clothes will come in and fill the spaces. which is a load of hogwash. of course they will. of course they will.

thrift store shopping anyone?

and it's nice to see those iconic pieces that still look good. that still fit. and that will stay for another round.



currently listening to: eden's helpful and well timed bits of dis/encouragement.

wisdom.

elegant: http://www.wisdombook.org/

confirmed.

i just got the call. they've approved my application for my apt. it's officially mine!


yippee skippy!


currently listening to: an interview on npr with regina spektor

change.

this is a significant moment for me. moving out. getting my own place. choosing a gorgeous space that resonates the entirety of my self over a larger space that tried to seduce me with ample storage and a large bedroom.

but i didn't let myself make the wrong decision. i didn't let the whispering/whimpering advantages distract me, and in the end i know having to pare down my possessions {not my books} won't be a bad thing. i even have a creative idea or two on how to solve my space issues. it will require more old wooden crates, however, but half the fun of decorating with them is finding them. anyone up for antique mall shopping?

tonight, a mentor of mine allowed me to see this decision in a different light than the previous "this is way too expensive/unpractical/frivolous decision." instead he suggested that i am honoring myself in this space. i am honoring the part of me that resonates by choosing a landing-place that inherently awakens that part of me. so it doesn't matter for the moment that i won't be saving {as much} for travel, or the house i eventually want to own, or even the $400 boots that are still calling my name. because i have made the choice so that i can have the vibrancy and color these other things could bring to my life, but here. now. on a day to day basis. every time i walk through my door.

and he's right. and what a glorious step forward.

in the end, this part of me that sees some form of beauty and feels like a tuning fork has been struck somewhere in the vicinity of my ribcage, this part of me that is most alive. most myself. and the past year and a half of work i have done with this mentor has been about wending my way deeper and deeper into my self to understand this space and process of resonance. to see the reasons the system breaks down and putters to a halt and stand by and cheer while movement resumes.

thank you, robert. more than you will ever fathom.

my hair is short.
i own a deep pink leather jacket.
i still wriggle out of trying to really, truly trust it, but i can feel the column of strength and certainty running up my torso that is divinely me.
i am an artist with a glorious space.
i know this is a significant move. and it surprised me with the suddenness of the timing, but resolution has laid itself out with ease like a red carpet unfurling before me.
i don't even know what is over the next horizon, but like this country perched on the edge of change i know i have made the right choices and set myself up for success.

things i'm looking forward to in my new place:
steam heating and a toasty winter.
the challenges of organizing all my things into a new space.
buying quirky mismatched dishes at goodwill.
having a place all to myself.
creating a visual and colorful journey through the space from the moment i walk through the door all the way to the back of the kitchen.
looking out my window each morning.
southern facing windows.
the church outside my window.
living less than a block away from not one, but two coffee shops {victrola and bauhaus}.
living a mile away from my gym and whole foods.
swimming again at the y.
yoga.
my neighbors.
going up 5 flights of stairs when i'm feeling energetic.
riding up 5 floors in the elevator when i'm not.
conflating my art and living space.
taking the bus to work.
taking the bus to class.
taking the bus.
walking to the seattle art museum on a saturday morning.
high ceilings.


just to name a few.

currently listening to: untitled 8 - sigur rós
current favorite tea: tazo wild sweet orange.

my new perch

last night i was so restless. tossed and turned for quite a while. the whole world had come to moment of departure. of leaping. of flying. and it's no longer just my life hanging on to the edge before letting go, but suddenly i'm connected to so many other lives that are there too. a whole nation is here, poised with me in their 'singular stories with a shared destiny'. i'm stealing his words, but they were elegant and beautiful words. carefully selected to be absolutely perfect.

and the crazy thing is: i don't even know the full extent of the change i'm about to embark upon. but somehow we {eden articulated this exact same thought today} both feel its place in the capital-'S'-Significance of my life. moving out. getting my own place. choosing a beautiful space over a bigger space. all these things. and they feel right and good. and it will work.

and so i wrote my deposit check today for the first place i looked at and it was love at first sight. i knew. i knew. i knew when i stepped into it and felt my soul resonate with excitement to live in the space.

and after looking at a cheaper and bigger (muuuch bigger) place today, i went back to this first studio to compare, and before i even got to the door, my heart had quickened in excitement and i knew.

so. yes. i will be living on capitol hill come the beginning of december. in my very own little perch.

yippee!

a day of such magnitude

it started at the polls at 7am. the little old ladies had made all these homemade goodies. i got my ballot and before i could even fill in the bubble next to his name, i paused.

for a good second or two.

and held my breath at the importance of one little blackened oval.

then i filled it in with a smile and a quickened heart.

later in the afternoon i picked up a broken sand dollar that lives by my computer at work. turning it over i happened to look inside: tightly folded up, was a note in my best friend's handwriting. "today is the day" - eden. she had planted the little scrap of blue paper months ago so that i could find it at the perfect moment. and it gave me so much hope that today is that moment. THE DAY. as well as every subsequent day for eight years.

monday's shuffle

rebel - lauryn hill (the live version which is so raw from her being sick during this performance)

walk away - ben harper

dave moon man - looper (his accent....sooo charming. i'll marry you, love)

damnit. i just found out it's been confirmed. i have to move. damnit. damnit. damnit. at least the game of limbo is over, but it still doesn't make me happy. i. love. my. space.

ha, and then sir ipod gave me:

welcome to the cruel world - ben harper.

lovely sense of humor, buster!

roads - portishead

and it rained all night - thom yorke

candyland - cocorosie (which is interesting because this has been the song to carry so much loss for me this year. first jai departing, then jai suddenly/violently disassociating, then my grandfather dying)

cry baby cry - beatles (which is hilarious because i never knew that's what wash was quoting in firefly. yes, my beatles knowledge is pretty limited)

like spinning plates - radiohead

it's oh so quiet - björk

some people ride the wave - devendra banhart

look back in - moby

such great heights - iron & wine

no surprises - radiohead

close your eyes - jump little children (this song hits my gooey feminine side where i just melt at this thought of being cared for in that tender/gentle/intimate space of going to sleep)

to travels & trunks - hey marseilles

milk thistle - conor oberst (he's be neglected, not sure how he even snuck onto my ipod, but i think i should pay a little more attention)

november's goal:

to get at least seven {7} hours of sleep every night.

this means good boundaries. very good boundaries.

no, you cannot write that blog about meisner or your new favorite song or post those wonderful pictures from the weekend. no, you may not reply to that email. no, you may not pick up and put away the day's clothes or do an artist's way activity.

just go to bed.

seven. full. hours.

so far the track record is 2/2 with daylight savings giving me 10-11 hours last night. pretty blissful. much needed. hopefully the med-dark circles under my eyes will go away.

currently listening to: a sunday smile - beirut {which, coincidentally enough, was also on repeat at the beginning of the year when my life was going topsy turvy with jaimini and my last move. i guess i'm trying to recreate the excited and more hopeful outlook.}

the stone gods {fin.}

'loneliness isn't about being by yourself. that's fine, right and good, desirable
in many ways. loneliness is about finding a landing-place, or not, and
knowing that, whatever you do, you can go back there. the opposite of loneliness
isn't company, it's a return. a place to return.'


.......................................


'billie,' said spike, 'why are you crying?'
'because it's hopeless, because we're hopeless, the whole stupid fucking human race.'
'is that why you are crying?'
'and because i wish there was a landing-place that wasn't always being torn up.'
'is that why you are crying?'
'and because i feel inadequate.'
'there's a story about a princess whose tears turned to diamonds.'
'i'm not a princess and my tears are tears like everyone else's.'
'but they are not everyone else's, billie. they are your tears.'

i read the last third of the book tonight soaking in my tub and these were the two passages i drew my scribbly curlicues around. they stood out the most in my mind.

and this was a perfect night to be gifted such eloquence on these two topics as they are such loud and colorful themes for me right now. i thought i had been given my fair share of loss this year, but these things come in three, no? my game of housing limbo is not yet resolved and i'm simply trying to stave off any anxiety (hopefully throughout the whole process) and grief (at least until it's confirmed).

i love winterson's paradigm of loneliness/landing-place. it's a lovely yin and yang and something i felt last night in a houseparty with no room to move, much less breathe or converse with people. and in that mosh of bodies and costumes i felt really lonely and tired and all i wanted was to go home. to my perfectly arranged landing-place with quiet and a sense of purpose.

and the second quote sums up tonight just perfectly. i am finding that there are many layers to grief. and a few hours ago, parked outside a friend's house, i sat for the first time since radiohead in a tightly reined emotional state where i only let myself feel a specifically controlled amount of joy as a way to control how much disappointment i experience. they have a directly proportionate relationship, so if i keep one under wraps, the other will also stay quiet. the trouble is, i want to celebrate with her. i want to get all girly and excited for the direction her life is moving, but i can't go there without stirring the mulch underneath.

it was a futile effort to hold things in because even just acknowledging the battle of conflicting emotional desires was enough to blow the lid on the whole thing, and i sat in the dash light outside her house and gave voice to the last layer of demons i have been trying to sweep under the rug. but they have persisted till suddenly i am admitting that i don't know who i despise more, him for leading me there or myself for having the audacity to believe i deserved what he freely offered. how dare i believe the universe has manifested something that perfect and in such a magical way? how. dare. i.

and yes, they aren't diamonds or even anybody else's tears {most especially his} but they are mine, and they were held by my friend with a grace and gentleness i cannot entirely fathom.

currently listening to: nothing. turned my car off on the drive home from her house and find i still need to maintain the silence a little longer.

passages from the stone gods by jeanette winterson

shuffle is a wonderful setting

these are the songs my ipod randomly delivered to my ears today that. just. made. me. happy.

silence - portishead
analyse (from the basement recordings) - thom yorke
uncle ray - looper
picture of jesus - ben harper
all is full of love - björk
baby doll - cat power
closedown - the cure
a movie script ending - death cab for cutie
plastic - portishead
clubbed to death - rob dougan
tomorrow night - patty griffin
blindfold - morcheeba
ab's song - iron & wine
in my heart - moby


dictionary.com word of the day:

gloaming \GLOH-ming\, noun: twilight; dusk; a good radiohead song.

currently listening to: my ipod on shuffle.

the other day....

walking up to
{i turned
and saw
nothing
of significance}
my house.

topsy turvy town

i put down is the new up on repeat this morning and it took me all the way to work. i was even excited about the changes. maybe staying. maybe moving. for the first time since shit hit the fan with my housing situation i felt not only okay, but excited.

and here it is. thank you, again, thom.

down is the new up - radiohead

get yourself together
let the light pour in
pour yourself a hot bath,
pour yourself a drink
nothing's gonna happen
without a warning

down is the new up
what is up, buttercup
down is the new up, is the new up

won’t you be my girl
won’t you be my girl…

your services are not required
your future's bleak,
you're so last week

ladies and gentlemen,
without a safety net
i shall now perform an 180 flip-flop
i shall now amputate,
i shall now contort
because down is the new up
that if i just flip-flopped?

down is the new up
down is the new up
down is the new up, is the new up

you crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
crawled off and left us
you bastard

you're on candid camera
the chink in your armor
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town
shake your pockets out
pass it on, pass it down
topsy turvy town,
topsy turvy town…

triple threat

this week in the artist's way, we're asked to give up reading for the week. no novels. no newspapers. no internet news. whatever. many people are threatened by this, but it's not my thing. it's not the obstacle i face in cutting to the chase and getting on with my life. we discussed this in the art mentoring group that meets to work through the course and most of us agreed that this was not our battle. reading is actually a sign i'm doing something healthy. i'm either at the gym on the elliptical or taking a moment's breather in my life and savoring a story.

so we got to brainstorming the things that might be our battle. what are the activities that are a time suck? a minion of that evil foe, procrastination? a ready excuse for not doing the thing i really need/want the most at that time? what would threaten me most if you said i couldn't do it? even for a week.

1. doing things for other people.
2. being creative.
3. checking things off to do lists {even just mental ones}.

last friday night, i forced myself to not doing anything i should all day. it was my second day of recovery and i did a pretty good job most of the day just doing what i wanted (including eating breakfast of crunchy puff chips). i didn't leave the house all day. just made/ate good food and read and lounged. but on toward the evening i got the itch where i just wanted to do something important. like a project. or a task or something that would be on a list that i could cross off, even something as simple as feeding my plants or straightening the surface of my desk.

but i drew a hard and fast line. this was a day of rest. sacred sabbath. take a bath. relax. but i had hit a wall of restlessness. frustration. uselessness. and i didn't know what to do.

lingering in this discomfort, i realized i use the tasks, even the wonderful ones i savor, as a way of hiding from this layer of self-critical mush. it was not an attractive part of me, but i forced myself to not just cover it up with noise {even pretty noise of art making or postcard writing or cleaning or anything "productive"}.

eventually i settled down with a book and plowed through to the end. it was the book thief. and it was a beautiful ending that needed to be read at home {as opposed to in public, like on an elliptical}, but i so rarely give myself the time and space to read for the sake of reading these days. i don't take time to relax.

it's always the relentless pressure to do to do to do to do todotodotodotodotodotodo and it never ends. and it encroaches on my time to sleep and my time to be. so i'm ungrounded and less efficient and feel the need to consume my time with things of capital "s" Significance and in turn i have to burn the midnight oil and get not enough sleep the next night too. und so weiter. und so weiter.

vicious cycle.

and i know i wanted to take these ideas further, but it's midnight and i just can't be bothered.

yes. shocking i know. typically sleep has the last priority. not that i'll be cashing in the hours tonight, but it's a start.

and so, goodnight.

the stone gods

i received a lovelylovely package in the mail several weeks ago and the main feature was a book passed on my by dearling cousin, katie.

jeanette winterson's the stone gods.

so many passages are being underlined. purple pen. pencil. what ever is handy. one page even dogeared {the 3rd quote down}.

here are just a few moment's of this book's glory:

the truth is that i've spent all my life with my binoculars trained on the Maybe Islands, a pristine place of fantasy that is really no better than the razor-rocks of misery...maybe if i'd met the right person years ago, maybe if i hadn't done this or that or, its cousin, the other. maybe, baby, that promised land was there and i missed it. look at it glittering in the light. but the truth is i am inventing the maybe. i can only make the choices i make, so why torture myself with what i might have done, when all i can handle is what i have done? the Maybe Islands are hostile to human life.

and

there is a white that contains all the colours of the world but this white was its mockery. this was the white at the end of the world when nothing is left, not the past, not the present and, most fearful of all, not the future. there was no future in this bleached and boiled place. nothing, not wild, not strange, not tiny, not vile, no good thing, no bad, could begin life again here. the world was a white-out.

and

what to say when the certainties fail? words are the part of silence that can be spoken.

and

i know that inside the story told is the story that cannot be told. every word written is a net to catch the word that has escaped.


she is an elegant and stately writer and her images are there to be savored. like a piece of rich chocolate slowly melting on the tongue. the aftertaste is heavenly.


currently listening to: tabula rasa: ludus & silentium - arvo pärt

meisner - day 11

someone in class said i looked like a drown rat. not an indication of how mean the other kids (i acutally one of the youngest in class) are, but more along the lines of how much losing my home was nagging at me. not something i could leave at the door. and the warmup we did was glorious. a freeform activitity with two rules.

1. you can only move across the floor in an xy grid pattern as though our paths were an intricate piece of graph paper put on the floor.
2. the freestanding rule of the space: you can't hurt yourself or another person.

other than that, anything was possible.

but i couldn't play. i felt sulky. exhausted. sludging through myself and the loss of my dearling space. but there were moments where i burst out of it so suddenly and unexpectedly. one student in particular: this sprite/pixie of a person with a radiant, bubbly life that swirls about her. her energy is contagious and when i got within her sphere, the play emerged. and it was a dance. and it was shy. and she asked can you come and play and i replied of course! and i realized how much shorter she is. and again how delicate. and what pure joy there can be between two people.

other moments of connection came and went. and i know myself to be an engager, but i was quieter today. and i know i want to learn how to leave things at the door while still being present in myself and giving it to the work. and i had one of those moments. with another student. one from the play we did. and in the play, our characters had this maniac frenzy of celebrating and jumping up and down and giggling and it resurfaced suddenly in this exercise. but it was just the starting point. and suddenly we were filled with this overpowering, almost defiant laughter. it was strong and sad and out of control and we were jumping up and down holding hands. and i felt my grief just exploding into the laughter and informing it and coloring it, but not getting in the way at the same time. it's like i was moving in two directions as once.

it was really freeing.

then came the activity. we have progressed to where the person in the room has an activity that they are doing. it is for someone important and you strive to do something possible not probable. mine was for a person and project combination i won't mention because i think i actually want to do it and it would work best as a surprise {you are reading this and you don't even know yet :}. but the victory in this was how easy it was for me to do it. to focus. to be honestly and truthfully in that space. and yet, to hold on to my partner and engage with her and respond and be honest to her too. my jaw muscles {often a good indication of tension} were silent and painless and time eased by despite this weird batch of nerves. nothing got in the way of me just being.

and the feedback from robin: was simply to ensure i had enough materials to finish the project (i did) and to comment on how relaxed i was, particularly my face.

and feedback from a student while walking to the bathroom: that i had made a lot of progress. that i was really in the moment. that i was truthful.

all these things are reminders for me to be patient and trust myself and the process. i have been pretty hard on myself this past week or so in this feeling that i wasn't making any progress, or at least that i couldn't feel myself making progress. after the collosal growth of a few weeks ago i feel like the plateau of processing i hit immediately after was somehow stagnating or, even worse, backtracking. but here is progress/growth/movement always present to surprise me when i least expect it.

currently listening to: be here now - ray lamontange

no surprises

i just found out i'll have to move out. soon. very very soon. i want to curl up and cry. i love my space. i love my space. i love my space. i can't even explain how much i have been happy there in my two rooms. how perfect i have tended and arranged them. my yellow room and my blue room. a little perch on the top floor with sunlight galore and not two but three closets for my art and clothes and photo albums. it was made to order and i have to leave.


this feels wrong. this feels like the universe gone awry. for the second time this year i feel like everything is spinning contrary to my intuitive understanding of the right & true path.

how am i off course again?

why is it always out of my control?

a heart that's full up like a landfill,
a job that slowly kills you,
bruises that won't heal.
you look so tired-unhappy,
bring down the government,
they don't, they don't speak for us.
i'll take a quiet life,
a handshake of carbon monoxide,

with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
silent silent.

this is my final fit,
my final bellyache,

with no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises,
no alarms and no surprises please.

such a pretty house
and such a pretty garden.

no alarms and no surprises (get me outta here),
no alarms and no surprises (get me outta here),
no alarms and no surprises, please.

currently listening to: no surprises, gagging order & wolf at the door - radiohead
lyrics: no surprises - radiohead

new york city colour study

i heart this man.

every day for the past 251+ days he has taken a photo out his window in new york city.

isn't it a lovely tapestry? i want a quilt like this. or maybe a mural on my wall. this image makes my soul sing.

image: michael surtees http://designnotes.info/

10.27.08 10:15am

http://www.ten15am.com/

titled everything in its right place compliments of my friend who just bestowed on me many many tracks of live radiohead. yuuum.




listening to at the time: radiohead - everything in its right place

meisner - day 10

we did another touch based exercise last night. we sculpted each other into shapes and formations and as the sculpture and sculptor alike, we were encouraged to allow whatever images/sensations we had to surface. i was surprised at how many images were derivatives of the world of the book thief. at points i was hiding with a pack of fugitives. at other times i was living impoverished and scourging for food. a lot of desperation and extreme states of being.

at one point, i had an extended section where my body was the one being sculpted and shaped and i was being rolled along the floor. there was this tangible surrender of control to the other person. complete. and the experience that came to mind was of being a corpse, casually being moved. i have had dreams of dying and being dead {yes, you can die in dreams} and there has always been a significant element of tragedy associated with those deaths, but sunday night i felt this blessed sense of bestowing my life in an other's hands. it was no longer mine to wield and i could just rest and be moved as an object. i don't know if this was another part of the book thief's influence. death was such a gentle narrator and caring of the souls given to his care {even in the face of such a relentless and sempiternal task} that i wouldn't mind being put in his hands. whatever the source, i didn't want to let go of the experience.

there was one other image that really moved me. at the end we took turns walking around and viewing different tableau's that students made in their final frozen moments. these two were sitting side by side on the ground, hands overlapped and intertwined on the floor, heads just a few inches apart and arms growing straight up from the ground. their bodies didn't touch, but they arched around each other in this elegant curve. torsos spooning and a beautiful buffer of negative space caressing them both. there was something so alive and joyful about their pose. a discovery had just been made and it radiated out from them. it was really sweet in the most tender and genuine of ways. vividly fresh. and painfully graceful.


as for the meisner work itself. i'm on a plateau. and that's okay. for a while it felt like i was backtracking or stuck because i wasn't making the catalystic growth of the week before. my head knows i'm really just in a processing period and crouching for my next leap forward. tuesday's class: here we go!

i can already tell it's going to be a good year.

as i just exited a year of my life that started with a fairly eventful birthday and maintained a similar level of uncomfortable intensity throughout the year, i am happy to say this weekend was along the lines of how i would like this year to unfold.

i was surrounded by lovely people.
i had a sweet and gentle gathering of chums around amazing food and a campfire complete with chi chi s'mores, frivolity and sparklers galore.
i got a sassy haircut {the shortest it's been since i was 4 or 5}.
and, the look is completed by the pink leather jacket by cache with its tags still on it that i picked up at a local rummage sale. {yes, pink. trust me it works. everyone of every age that saw me in it said yes}.
and, to top it off, i got a few sweet and unexpected reminders from people with a y chromosome that i am a woman. :}

26, bring it on.

my own personal new year

yes.

from eat pray love, elizabeth gilbert

"groceries," richard says, "listen to me. someday you're gonna look back on this moment of your life as such a sweet time of grieving. you'll see that you were in mourning and your heart was broken, but your life was changing and you were in the best possible place in the world for it--in a beautiful place of worship, surrounded by grace. take this time, every minute of it. let things work themselves out..."
"but i really loved him."
"big deal. so you fell in love with someone. don't you see what happened? this guy touched a place in your heart deeper than you thought you were capable of reaching, i mean you got zapped, kiddo. but that love you felt, that's just the beginning. you just got a taste of love. that's just limited little rinky-dink mortal love. wait till you see how much more deeply you can love than that...
"people think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. but a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. a true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake...soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. and thank god for it. your problem is, you just can't let this one go. it's over, groceries. david's purpose was to shake you up, drive you out of that marriage that you needed to leave, tear apart your ego a little bit, show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life...that was his job and he did great but now it's over. problem is, you can't accept that this relationship had a real short shelf life. you're like a dog at the dump, baby--you're just lickin' at an empty tin can, trying to get more nutrition out of it. and if you're not careful, that can's gonna get stuck on your snout forever and make your life miserable. so drop it."
"but i love him."
"so love him."
"but i miss him."
"so miss him...you're just afraid to let go of the last bits of david because then you'll really be alone, and you are scared to death of what will happen if you are really alone. but here's what you gotta understand, groceries. if you clear out all that space in your mind that you're using right now...you'll have a vacuum there, an open spot--a doorway. and guess what the universe will do with that doorway? it will rush in...and fill you with more love than you ever dreamed. stop using david to block the door. let it go."
"but i wish me and david could--"
he cuts me off. "see, now that's you're problem. you're wishin' too much, baby. you gotta stop wearing your wishbone where your backbone outta be."
this line gives me the first laugh of the day.
then i ask richard, "so how long will it be before all this grieving passes?"
"you want an exact date?"
"yes."
"something' you can circle on your calendar?"
"yes."
"lemme tell you something, groceries--you got some serious control issues."

evidently richard is from texas. eden nailed the twang. it was a masterful reading.


currently listening to: cold war kids while eden makes me a cake

the book thief {part three}

...the sky was the best blue of the afternoon. like her papa, her soul was sitting up.


























from the book thief - markus zusak

the book thief {part two}

i just finished. and i have no words.

yes, i knew i would feel this way, but i say it again: i wish i had written this book.

it is brilliant. and it steps on my heart. every page. every image. every word.

the book thief

page 491 {no spoilers}

a quick refresher in case you missed the introduction: this is a tale told by death.

a human doesn't have a heart like mine. the human heart is a line, whereas my own is a circle, and i have the endless ability to be in the right place at the right time. the consequence of this is that i'm always finding humans at their best and worst. i see their ugly and their beauty, and i wonder how the same thing can be both. still, they have one thing i envy. humans, if nothing else, have the good sense to die.


{excerpt from the book by markus zusak}

restlessness

i can't let myself not "do" something. it's been a struggle today to just be at home and not find little chores and things for me to do. accomplish. check off a list. i stayed home sick today to give myself another day of recovery, which i think was needed. even standing up for the duration of my shower and cooking two fried eggs was exhausting, but at the same time i have enough energy to finish my packages for ellie and ross, rinse and spray the two plants i have that are breeding the little white flies. sweep my floor in my room, etc.

it's just really rare for me to sit in quiet spaces and not feel the driving need to complete something. i've realized today how much satisfaction i derive from that process and it's not healthy. i won't let myself rest. i rarely let myself relax. i think it's part of the reason i haven't seen many movies in the past few months. i've let this driving force kill some of my loves and leave them by the wayside.

what other things have i abandoned?

reading for the joy of reading (not as an incentive to go to the gym and stay on the elliptical for 45-60 minutes)
writing letters and postcards
sending care packages
knitting
contact improv
cooking
going on walks
the list continues

another nightmare

from a letter to a friend:

blech, woke up from some really disturbing dreams right at the end. the boxes i have with all of our family photos were also filled with dead concentration camp survivors. there were bugs. and lice. and lots of tragically thin bodies. really upsetting. i know exactly where it came from. a girl at work {i still don't know what she was thinking} sent a powerpoint to us with: "sorry i can't translate, but you have to see the pictures." no warning. nothing.

mind you, we tend to pass along silly animal photos, power points of dubai in all its glory, etc. interesting. funny. innocuous things. and i open this one up to find piles and piles of bodies. emaciated figures. it took me completely by surprise and after a few clicks, i shut it as tears started to prick my eyes. it didn't help that i am reading a book right now that takes place in a small town in germany during world war two. a family is/was hiding a jew. the story is narrated by death, so he saw many of these bodies.

that was a few weeks ago, so it's interesting that it chose today to haunt me. i can still see all the little organisms crawling over the bodies. i want to wash my brain out with soap. and i think the worst thing was knowing that it somehow came from our history. the photo albums were gone. or maybe just covered up.



currently listening to: my neighbor practice some sort of {slightly annoying} instrument

a pattern emerges

when i'm sick i always hit a point of anger. how dare my body do this to me. this is a betrayal. an injustice.

the anger is laced with helplessness. i can't possibly take more antibiotics just a month and a half after the last dose. i can't stop the pain. i can't control this relapse. will there be more?

at some point, depending on the circumstances, i hit a wall of grief {usually aided and abetted by exhaustion and pain}, and it lets me curl up and release. it might be 30 seconds, it might be 10 minutes. but it flows from me with a purity and ease that always amazes me. a young child takes the helm and makes herself known. and then it's gone and i move on.

i realize what has to happen and put one foot in front of the other and move calmly towards the goal. i get up at 1am and buy 100% cranberry juice. i pick out a comfort read on the shelf to distract me from my body. i draw up a bath. i send in my email to my boss saying i won't make it to work the next day. and later i make the phone calls, doctors appointments, and pharmacy runs. these things move forward and i am {not resigned. not hopeless. just....} matter of fact.

then i find a place where i can actually care for myself. baby myself. treat myself with tenderness. these are the moments where i find a nice comfort food and purchase it no matter how frivolous {today it was "tings" - these lovely crunchy chips - and organic red grapes}. i while away hours in bed with a book and rest without a thought of how else i can/should spend my time. dishes get left undone. i eat whenever/whatever i fancy. i give myself a freer reign. i give voice to my whims and my exhaustion without censorship or excuses.

and, something i've noticed before but never fully articulated: i don't listen to music. it takes up too much energy and requires too much effort to participate in the space it creates. and this tells me how much music stirs me.

and it tells me that i have better boundaries when i'm sick. i can go there. i can't go there. things are clear.

i listen to myself and treat her well.


currently listening to: nothing. blessed nothing.

radiohead nightmare

i think it was sometime this weekend that i had a dream about radiohead.

i was seeing them play, and it was the santa barbara trip, but everything about it was wrong. the venue was ugly and sparsely filled. thom was a fat, old man with a hairy chest and no shirt. he was pathetic. the music was awful. and i was put off. the dream began not too soon before i realized it was the last part of the encore and i should be paying attention, this should be important, but i just couldn't get past the distaste. later, i watched my friend who got me into the after party {in real life} walk up to security and wave his pass and go in without a backward glance. i tried to get his attention, but he was already moving away. in the dream, it wasn't that he didn't know me, but somehow that i was being disregarded. ignored.

it was a really disturbing dream that i can't seem to shake and it's been surfacing at unexpected moments. like in the aftermath of monday's pretty tough meisner session where a lot of things i didn't want to look at lingered just beyond the reach of words. i couldn't make the last leap to articulate them but their effects were felt all thirty minutes of our practice and they came later with signifiers as i was driving away {you make me feel ugly. you make me feel like i'm not enough. you make me feel like i'm too much.} in the several minutes of release after the exercise ended, i sat hovering on the edge of tears for quite a while. my classmate asked if i was okay. i just sat. wordless. and when i tried to speak, the dream was the first image that came to mind.

i still can't make heads or tails . 2+2 still make a 5.