It's the end of the semester, and we're moving to Sacramento. It sounds so simple. It sounds so easy. But it is neither simple, nor easy.
It is more like one of those commercials for a suspense movie or tv drama. Will our heroes manage to get the money together in time, despite the slowing of the post office due to holiday overflow? Will they manage to pack everything they need into Sean's tiny little truck? Will the cats and the dog all have to travel together, causing two cat aneurisms and a potential human one? Will the Christmas presents get bought in time? Will our heroes finish everything they have to do for finals?
I haven't written anything here about the cat situation. In a nutshell: we now have four cats because my ex decided to move into a pet-free apartment and was threatening to send the two I left behind when I left him to certain death-by-coyote. He wanted to release one of the two into the wilds of Jamul, in East County San Diego. Would I be willing to come get the other? Ugh. It was, to put it mildly, an ordeal. And I wouldn't have been able to do it at all if his aunt hadn't volunteered to pay for the trip. And I hold him directly responsible for our financial problems now, since it's her check that's taking it's sweet time getting to my bank (I have to mail my deposits), so we don't have enough money at the moment to give our new landlord both our deposit and our first month's rent.
Frustrated. Very stressed, and very frustrated.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
little freakout
Yep, had a little freakout sitting in the car when we got to school this morning.
Sean's mom and step-dad got here yesterday.
I didn't sleep well, combination of tension from their presence and them letting the dogs out at 6am. One of their dogs is in love with our dog, and the other barks constantly as the first two play and play. They were separated for the night, until Sean's mom let them all out. I'm sure the neighbors just love us now.
I think my endurance is getting worn down most by Sean's attitude to his mother. He needs her approval. He presents everything to her in this timid way, sort of hedging and uncertain, and she just jumps all over it. And because he has to try to win her approval, I feel like I do too. God, I am so sick of living in her house. He might not be so servile if he didn't feel so beholden to her.
I wrote a story a while back that had as one subplot a woman who was engaged to a man ruled by his mother. It was very clear to me then that the woman had to get out of that relationship. Now I look back and I ask myself if that was some sort of prophecy.
I don't know how I'd feel if I got out of this relationship. I wonder if I'd just be using the mom thing as an excuse. Sometimes I still think I'd be better off on my own, and that I want my alone time. I know I don't want to be enmeshed in this family--I do not like them. But then part of me knows that leaving Sean would be this huge mistake. How much of that is fear of hurting him? I hate the fact that I had to hurt Ben. He didn't deserve it. Sean doesn't deserve to be hurt either. I just want to live my life my way, and at the moment, that isn't remotely possible.
I've tried to talk to Sean about the attitude he takes with his parents (he's very submissive with his father, too). He gets defensive with me. I don't know anymore whether I'm being reasonable or not. How do I deal with my parents? Well, they have no authority over me. I don't try to please my father at all. Gave up a long time ago with that. It took me a lot longer to stop worrying about displeasing my mother, but I think I'm there. I think I have been for a couple of years. In any case I know I'm not submissive with her. She complained when we first went there that I was being aggressive, in fact (and I dialed it down as a result, I do care about her feelings). But I see myself as an adult. I see my parents' flaws. I don't need them to put some stamp of approval on my decisions and actions because I don't particularly think they have a better handle on life and the world than I do. And Sean and I have talked a lot about his parents, and their flaws. Their qualities, too, but the point is he doesn't want to live the same life as them. And yet it's like he still needs to get permission for everything. Every little thing. And if his mother decrees something, he goes along with it. He never disagrees. Maybe he doesn't actually do it later, but it's like she couldn't handle being contradicted. She must be appeased at all costs.
I've fucking had enough. I don't do it for anyone else, why should I do it for her? Except that I don't want to make things hard on Sean.
In the pack order of his family, Sean is at the lowest rung. And with us, I think I let him be pack leader. And I wonder if this is all a power thing. They dominate him, so he has to be dominant with me. He makes most of the decisions. I let him because most of the time it's easier than arguing, and I don't really mind doing things his way; it's not like he chooses a bad way to do things. If anything, he's more on top of certain issues than I am, like our finances. It's nice to have someone else dealing with it.
But, it means I'm not doing things my way, and then when things are shitty, that becomes a really big problem for me. I don't know what the solution is, other than to leave, since talking about it with him only seems to make him miserable, and me frustrated, and nothing changes. In just our relationship, I don't know how to shift the balance so I have more say, because I've tried before, and it just takes us to this sniping, argumentative place. So do I give up, or try not to let things get to me? I hate thinking I'm putting up with crap after going through what I did to get out of the crap of my marriage.
Things go pretty well as long as his family is a certain distance away. I let him make the decisions and we get along fine. So once his mother and step-father leave, we should go back to getting along fine. When we move this winter and finally have our own place, things will be better. And I've been trying to just be patient, and not make any major decisions about our relationship until we've settled in to our new place.
One really great thing is that we're going to Sacramento. I was agonizing over going to Sonoma, and we talked a lot about it, and we decided to go to Sac. That is such a relief, because it will work so much better for me. It means Sean will be in his program a lot longer, though. Maybe two or even three years. I hope that won't become a problem; it may not. He may get a lot out of it. And he says he's okay with it.
So once we're established there, and we're not living in his mother's house, maybe he won't feel like he owes her something, and he'll start having more of a backbone with her. I've worried that we'll still have a debt: they lent us their house for seven months--how do we pay them back? But maybe we'll find a way, and in any case, it's just got to stop. I really, really wish we had never taken them up on the offer. I feel like I signed a contract without reading the fine print. The contract looked good, and I came to it with a set of assumptions based on my own family's way of doing things. But the fine print was a whole different story.
In Sacramento, I want to make friends and have a life outside of Sean. At the moment, other than work, I don't. I want to have more independence. I want to have other options when he's going to visit his parents. Maybe I can find some ways to take back control of more areas of my life, too. But definitely I want a life outside of Sean. Then, I hope, I'll appreciate him more. I won't have to remind myself so often of his qualities, of why I'm with him, and what I like about him. I'll just feel good, I'll enjoy being with him.
Sean's mom and step-dad got here yesterday.
I didn't sleep well, combination of tension from their presence and them letting the dogs out at 6am. One of their dogs is in love with our dog, and the other barks constantly as the first two play and play. They were separated for the night, until Sean's mom let them all out. I'm sure the neighbors just love us now.
I think my endurance is getting worn down most by Sean's attitude to his mother. He needs her approval. He presents everything to her in this timid way, sort of hedging and uncertain, and she just jumps all over it. And because he has to try to win her approval, I feel like I do too. God, I am so sick of living in her house. He might not be so servile if he didn't feel so beholden to her.
I wrote a story a while back that had as one subplot a woman who was engaged to a man ruled by his mother. It was very clear to me then that the woman had to get out of that relationship. Now I look back and I ask myself if that was some sort of prophecy.
I don't know how I'd feel if I got out of this relationship. I wonder if I'd just be using the mom thing as an excuse. Sometimes I still think I'd be better off on my own, and that I want my alone time. I know I don't want to be enmeshed in this family--I do not like them. But then part of me knows that leaving Sean would be this huge mistake. How much of that is fear of hurting him? I hate the fact that I had to hurt Ben. He didn't deserve it. Sean doesn't deserve to be hurt either. I just want to live my life my way, and at the moment, that isn't remotely possible.
I've tried to talk to Sean about the attitude he takes with his parents (he's very submissive with his father, too). He gets defensive with me. I don't know anymore whether I'm being reasonable or not. How do I deal with my parents? Well, they have no authority over me. I don't try to please my father at all. Gave up a long time ago with that. It took me a lot longer to stop worrying about displeasing my mother, but I think I'm there. I think I have been for a couple of years. In any case I know I'm not submissive with her. She complained when we first went there that I was being aggressive, in fact (and I dialed it down as a result, I do care about her feelings). But I see myself as an adult. I see my parents' flaws. I don't need them to put some stamp of approval on my decisions and actions because I don't particularly think they have a better handle on life and the world than I do. And Sean and I have talked a lot about his parents, and their flaws. Their qualities, too, but the point is he doesn't want to live the same life as them. And yet it's like he still needs to get permission for everything. Every little thing. And if his mother decrees something, he goes along with it. He never disagrees. Maybe he doesn't actually do it later, but it's like she couldn't handle being contradicted. She must be appeased at all costs.
I've fucking had enough. I don't do it for anyone else, why should I do it for her? Except that I don't want to make things hard on Sean.
In the pack order of his family, Sean is at the lowest rung. And with us, I think I let him be pack leader. And I wonder if this is all a power thing. They dominate him, so he has to be dominant with me. He makes most of the decisions. I let him because most of the time it's easier than arguing, and I don't really mind doing things his way; it's not like he chooses a bad way to do things. If anything, he's more on top of certain issues than I am, like our finances. It's nice to have someone else dealing with it.
But, it means I'm not doing things my way, and then when things are shitty, that becomes a really big problem for me. I don't know what the solution is, other than to leave, since talking about it with him only seems to make him miserable, and me frustrated, and nothing changes. In just our relationship, I don't know how to shift the balance so I have more say, because I've tried before, and it just takes us to this sniping, argumentative place. So do I give up, or try not to let things get to me? I hate thinking I'm putting up with crap after going through what I did to get out of the crap of my marriage.
Things go pretty well as long as his family is a certain distance away. I let him make the decisions and we get along fine. So once his mother and step-father leave, we should go back to getting along fine. When we move this winter and finally have our own place, things will be better. And I've been trying to just be patient, and not make any major decisions about our relationship until we've settled in to our new place.
One really great thing is that we're going to Sacramento. I was agonizing over going to Sonoma, and we talked a lot about it, and we decided to go to Sac. That is such a relief, because it will work so much better for me. It means Sean will be in his program a lot longer, though. Maybe two or even three years. I hope that won't become a problem; it may not. He may get a lot out of it. And he says he's okay with it.
So once we're established there, and we're not living in his mother's house, maybe he won't feel like he owes her something, and he'll start having more of a backbone with her. I've worried that we'll still have a debt: they lent us their house for seven months--how do we pay them back? But maybe we'll find a way, and in any case, it's just got to stop. I really, really wish we had never taken them up on the offer. I feel like I signed a contract without reading the fine print. The contract looked good, and I came to it with a set of assumptions based on my own family's way of doing things. But the fine print was a whole different story.
In Sacramento, I want to make friends and have a life outside of Sean. At the moment, other than work, I don't. I want to have more independence. I want to have other options when he's going to visit his parents. Maybe I can find some ways to take back control of more areas of my life, too. But definitely I want a life outside of Sean. Then, I hope, I'll appreciate him more. I won't have to remind myself so often of his qualities, of why I'm with him, and what I like about him. I'll just feel good, I'll enjoy being with him.
Tuesday, October 31, 2006
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Holidays
Okay, so I have to indulge in some selfishness here for a moment.
I am annoyed, although I'm not sure that's the right word, by the fact of having to spend the holidays with Sean's family, aka people I don't like or feel in any way connected to.
On some level, when I left Ben, I think I was relieved to be putting family holidays aside for a while, just in general. I actually liked spending holidays with Ben's family, though. They were fun. It was about gorging yourself on great food and drinking champagne and taking naps. But I think I still got bored a lot of the time, especially when my friend Carmen stopping attending the festivities after she moved to LA. So I was ready to let them go.
But I didn't get any relief from family holidays, because I got together with Sean only a few months after leaving Ben, and last year we did Thanksgiving and Christmas with his family.
And we will again this year, although the Thanksgiving holiday is particularly difficult because they want to do it on November 11 in the Bay, and I'll already be taking time off work the week before to take my CSET exam. I can't see doing it again a week later. It really irritates me that they just pick this day instead of doing it the week of Thanksgiving when no one will be surprised I can't work anyway. And I thought they'd be up here--not that I'm particularly sad that the house is not going to be overrun with people.
What it comes down to is I don't want to spend holidays with these people, particularly Sean's mother. I think I was about 18 when I decided I was never spending another holiday with my step-mother's family and it was a glorious decision I have never regretted.
And if there's one thing I learned from going through the divorce, it's that if you don't want to do something, or you do want to do something, it's better to go with what you want and blow off society and people's expectations. Because living under oppressive expectations and rules is a half-life and a waste.
So the problem is Sean. Who is sad I don't like his mother and brother. Who has pretty much always spent holidays with his family, adhered to their scheduling without question, except the year he was in Hawai'i. Which makes me want to move to Hawai'i. I went and told him I didn't particularly want to spend any more holidays with people who aren't my family and who I don't feel any connection to. I wasn't angry or bitchy about it, but I wish I'd talked to someone else because he doesn't need to hear that sort of thing. It makes him unhappy and at this point I haven't figured out a viable alternative, so what's the point?
On the one hand, and this would be the hand that remembers what a relief it was to get a divorce, it might be best to say hasta la vista to spending holidays with people I don't feel I should be obligated to in any way (except gratitude for letting me stay in their mountain cabin rent free--grimace). On the other hand, it's a fast way to make me the "hated girlfriend." I'm on thin ice as it is, I think, because his mom finds me intimidating or whatever, and because his brother doesn't like me. As it is I don't think I'll make Nov. 11, because I really can't take the time off. From there, it's not going to take much to cast me in the role of despised Other.
I think miserable holidays are an American staple. They exist in other cultures, but I think in America, it's become this known thing. You're more of an exception if you enjoy going home for the holidays. They made a movie about this, so it must be true! People have very ambivalent relationships with their families. I know this. I accept it. People even have to accept difficult in-laws. Sure. But that's the thing: this is not my family. These aren't my in-laws.
Sean and I are in a gray area. We live together. We intend to have a commitment ceremony eventually. But we are not married.
Ultimately, though, I think that's a technicality. I have nowhere else to be, but perhaps in my own home, which at the moment isn't even my own home, it's theirs anyway. I have no family locally, and no interest in spending the holidays on the east coast with my dad. I could try to go to France for Christmas, but that would require money that neither my mother nor I can spare.
It's a bind. I'd rather not go hang with Sean's family and deal with the tension and weirdness and feeling like I'm not a part of it, but I think this year at least, I had better suck it up. I'm not ready to be reviled. They are so tight knit. If I bailed, in days the phone calls would weave a net of outrage and vilification that I'd never get out of--they still think of Sean in ways they defined for him many years ago. He's changed so much since then but they can't or won't see it. And they love him. I'd just become the bad girlfriend in their minds.
After a point, I don't give a shit. But I guess I think it's a little early to let that happen. I've known them just less than a year. Maybe these holidays will be better than the last ones. Maybe not. I'll live. And maybe next year I'll figure out a way out of them.
I am annoyed, although I'm not sure that's the right word, by the fact of having to spend the holidays with Sean's family, aka people I don't like or feel in any way connected to.
On some level, when I left Ben, I think I was relieved to be putting family holidays aside for a while, just in general. I actually liked spending holidays with Ben's family, though. They were fun. It was about gorging yourself on great food and drinking champagne and taking naps. But I think I still got bored a lot of the time, especially when my friend Carmen stopping attending the festivities after she moved to LA. So I was ready to let them go.
But I didn't get any relief from family holidays, because I got together with Sean only a few months after leaving Ben, and last year we did Thanksgiving and Christmas with his family.
And we will again this year, although the Thanksgiving holiday is particularly difficult because they want to do it on November 11 in the Bay, and I'll already be taking time off work the week before to take my CSET exam. I can't see doing it again a week later. It really irritates me that they just pick this day instead of doing it the week of Thanksgiving when no one will be surprised I can't work anyway. And I thought they'd be up here--not that I'm particularly sad that the house is not going to be overrun with people.
What it comes down to is I don't want to spend holidays with these people, particularly Sean's mother. I think I was about 18 when I decided I was never spending another holiday with my step-mother's family and it was a glorious decision I have never regretted.
And if there's one thing I learned from going through the divorce, it's that if you don't want to do something, or you do want to do something, it's better to go with what you want and blow off society and people's expectations. Because living under oppressive expectations and rules is a half-life and a waste.
So the problem is Sean. Who is sad I don't like his mother and brother. Who has pretty much always spent holidays with his family, adhered to their scheduling without question, except the year he was in Hawai'i. Which makes me want to move to Hawai'i. I went and told him I didn't particularly want to spend any more holidays with people who aren't my family and who I don't feel any connection to. I wasn't angry or bitchy about it, but I wish I'd talked to someone else because he doesn't need to hear that sort of thing. It makes him unhappy and at this point I haven't figured out a viable alternative, so what's the point?
On the one hand, and this would be the hand that remembers what a relief it was to get a divorce, it might be best to say hasta la vista to spending holidays with people I don't feel I should be obligated to in any way (except gratitude for letting me stay in their mountain cabin rent free--grimace). On the other hand, it's a fast way to make me the "hated girlfriend." I'm on thin ice as it is, I think, because his mom finds me intimidating or whatever, and because his brother doesn't like me. As it is I don't think I'll make Nov. 11, because I really can't take the time off. From there, it's not going to take much to cast me in the role of despised Other.
I think miserable holidays are an American staple. They exist in other cultures, but I think in America, it's become this known thing. You're more of an exception if you enjoy going home for the holidays. They made a movie about this, so it must be true! People have very ambivalent relationships with their families. I know this. I accept it. People even have to accept difficult in-laws. Sure. But that's the thing: this is not my family. These aren't my in-laws.
Sean and I are in a gray area. We live together. We intend to have a commitment ceremony eventually. But we are not married.
Ultimately, though, I think that's a technicality. I have nowhere else to be, but perhaps in my own home, which at the moment isn't even my own home, it's theirs anyway. I have no family locally, and no interest in spending the holidays on the east coast with my dad. I could try to go to France for Christmas, but that would require money that neither my mother nor I can spare.
It's a bind. I'd rather not go hang with Sean's family and deal with the tension and weirdness and feeling like I'm not a part of it, but I think this year at least, I had better suck it up. I'm not ready to be reviled. They are so tight knit. If I bailed, in days the phone calls would weave a net of outrage and vilification that I'd never get out of--they still think of Sean in ways they defined for him many years ago. He's changed so much since then but they can't or won't see it. And they love him. I'd just become the bad girlfriend in their minds.
After a point, I don't give a shit. But I guess I think it's a little early to let that happen. I've known them just less than a year. Maybe these holidays will be better than the last ones. Maybe not. I'll live. And maybe next year I'll figure out a way out of them.
tear down the wall
I *think* I'm getting better.
It's scary to even suggest it, like I might chase it away if I name it. But I think I am. The writing block is crumbling, a little at a time, and that is major.
I have decided (shiver) to sign up and do the NaNo contest. It's a contest that challenges you to write a 50K-word novel in the month of November. You begin November 1, and have to submit your manuscript by midnight Nov. 30. They don't read it, just do a word count and confirm whether you've "won." The point is quantity, not quality. So I hope it will once in for all make the internal critic (I have yammering in my head most of the time) shut up. Maybe not forever--I think that's impossible--but I also hope that the critic will be forever bested--gutted and powerless to stop me from writing.
And if I need a refresher I can always do the contest again next year or some November when I need another dose of intensive, bad writing to make the critic go away.
I have some ideas and I plan to do a little outlining today. I am not, traditionally, an outliner, but at this point I am ready to try all sorts of new things to get the writing going, and, I hope, making it sustainable.
It's scary to even suggest it, like I might chase it away if I name it. But I think I am. The writing block is crumbling, a little at a time, and that is major.
I have decided (shiver) to sign up and do the NaNo contest. It's a contest that challenges you to write a 50K-word novel in the month of November. You begin November 1, and have to submit your manuscript by midnight Nov. 30. They don't read it, just do a word count and confirm whether you've "won." The point is quantity, not quality. So I hope it will once in for all make the internal critic (I have yammering in my head most of the time) shut up. Maybe not forever--I think that's impossible--but I also hope that the critic will be forever bested--gutted and powerless to stop me from writing.
And if I need a refresher I can always do the contest again next year or some November when I need another dose of intensive, bad writing to make the critic go away.
I have some ideas and I plan to do a little outlining today. I am not, traditionally, an outliner, but at this point I am ready to try all sorts of new things to get the writing going, and, I hope, making it sustainable.
Tuesday, October 17, 2006
try to focus on the good stuff
The depression is coming back. I'm low a lot of the time anyway, but this is the bad stuff. I have to fight it. I have to do the cbt exercises and try to keep it at bay.
Recent high points:
- Sean and I went to see John Scofield in concert on Thursday night last week. It was nice. Scofield is a guitarist who plays blues and jazz and this concert was a tribute to Ray Charles. There were two singers, both excellent.
- I'm enjoying the book I'm reading, the sequel to The Sparrow. It's called Children of God.
- I have a new, pale blue cashmere sweater that I ordered. It was $100 which is not bad for 100% cashmere. I also have some other new clothes I got when we stopped at an Old Navy on our drive back from Sonoma.
- Sean says he is open to us moving to Sacramento instead of Sonoma. This would be a relief to me as the commute I'd be doing if we lived by Sonoma worries me. Sacramento is attractive also because his sister and her husband live there and we'd probably have an easier time making friends. But I feel sad that he's giving up the program at Sonoma, which really suits him the best. I don't know what to do about it. I don't want to be selfish. Of course, he doesn't want to be selfish either so that's why he's saying we can go to Sac.
- He and I are getting along a lot better. We were having a lot of arguments for a while there and we've become more conscious of how we're doing and we're trying to appreciate each other more and not be short-tempered or defensive.
- I ordered a rice-cooker which should be coming in the mail soon.
- I used my new hand-blender to make butternut squash soup for the first time the other night.
- I seem to be totally over my cold.
- We have new cell phones. That's very fun. They take pictures.
- I wrote a story for my creative writing class and the class commented on it and they liked it. It isn't finished, but I have ideas for where to go with it.
- I sent off my application materials to Project Pipeline, and two of the three people I contacted for recommendation letters have said they'll do it.
- We've totally integrated the dog and the cats--we all sleep up on the mezzanine together now. Plus, the mezzanine is a lot warmer than the bedroom we used to sleep in, so I don’t feel like we’re going to die of exposure when the snow hits anymore. Although we still need to buy a cord of wood.
- They’ve brought back Bianca, the gay character, on All My Children.
- I like most of the people I work with. A couple in particular are a lot of fun. And I enjoy taking to customers when I’m on the register. I feel less lonely and isolated after a day or two of work.
- I’ve been sticking to many of my food resolutions. I haven’t had any meat in some time. It’s actually probably time for me to eat some fish, I may be low on protein.
- Sean and I discovered vegetarian sloppy joes. I guess sloppy joes were his favorite food growing up, so this makes him very happy. They are good, and it’s nice to have another item to add to the list of things we can have for dinner.
- It’s October 17 today, so that means if we move around January 1, we have only two and a half more months until we start the next phase of our lives. I am looking forward to this. I really miss teaching, and I think once I’m working as a teacher again I’ll have an easier time feeling good. Teaching makes me feel good. It might help to try to find a way to do some kind of teaching in the mean time… dunno where or how. Actually, I decided yesterday that it would help a lot if I got some work done on my thesis. Tomorrow I have a lot of time, so here’s my goal:
Spend two hours working on the thesis, chapter 3.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
new phone & food for thought
I have a cell phone. This is cause for glee. I was cellphone-less for nearly eight months. Before that, I had my cell for about a year, I think? Anyway, I was late to get on the cellphone band wagon. But then I loved it. So I missed having one like crazy, but now I do again. Glee!
I chatted with my friend Astrid (ON MY NEW PHONE) last night for a while. She raised some things for me to think about. I really admire her, and I think I'm a little in awe, because she's so incredibly insightful. Anyway, she suggested that I do some writing and thinking about motherhood, and why I want to have children, especially why now. I'd been telling her how frustrated I am that Sean and I are not in a place yet where we can have kids. She said she thinks there's subconscious stuff there. She also thinks that in my current internal debate over how to fit my program with Sean's, I should not opt for a traditional credential program. Well, she said I'd probably end up resenting Sean for it, and I think she's right, so the conclusion I take that to is that I shouldn't opt for it. And by the time she called yesterday I had pretty much decided in favor of it, so I'm glad we talked.
Some people I talk to about my issues with traditional credential programs don't seem to understand why I dislike the student teaching so much. Sean, for instance, thinks it's because I'd be bored. I would be bored. Student teaching means basically being a TA for a semester and then teaching with a mentor teacher at your side for the next. Not a bad idea for people who are starting out, but I have about 10 years of teaching experience under my belt. So yes, I'd be bored. But that's not the main problem. The main problem is that it profoundly disgusts and enrages me that people who want to be teachers get exploited that way. They aren't paid for the work that they do for that year, and they must do it full time, so having a job in addition is nearly impossible. When people train to become doctors they have to do residencies and that's fine, but they get paid for it! Plus, the salary they can expect when they are done... well, I'm sure you know a teacher isn't going to make that kind of money. A low-end beginning teacher's salary is $30K. TA's make about $8.50 an hour in most of the high schools I've worked in. So if you add that all up, for a semester of TAing and a semester of teaching, student teachers lose about $20K. And they pay tuition for the privilege, so in fact, depending on the cost of the program, they're shelling out quite a bit more. All this for a teacher's salary: $30K to begin, and if they stay in the system long enough, they can hope to one day make around $50K. It's disgusting.
So I tried, yesterday, to rationalize all of it. The best music program for what Sean wants is at CSU Sonoma, which is in a town called Rohnert Park. Rohnert Park is about 40 or so miles from the nearest school in the Bay Area, in Vallejo. Why do we care about the Bay Area? Well, honestly, we despise the Bay Area, but Project Pipeline, the program I want to do is located in two spots in the Bay Area and in Sacramento. They have a list of schools they work with and the closest one to Rohnert Park is in Vallejo. Why do I want to do Project Pipeline? Because instead of having to submit to the student teaching screw-over I'd be working full-time and paid for it while earning my credential in Saturday classes over 2 years. Anyway, Vallejo, Rohnert Park: not close together. We could live in Novato, which would mean we'd both have a 20 mile commute. And we drove over both commutes. Vallejo-Novato is not a short commute, and there's traffic. Plus, on Saturdays I'd have to drive all the way to Concord, which would probably take an hour to an hour and a half. And I hate driving. So yesterday I told myself, "Come on, be reasonable. If you do the credential at CSU Sonoma, yes, you'll suffer for a year, but it's just a year and then you'll have your credential. And there won't be any of this commuting, no Saturdays driving to Concord, you can live right next to the university or the school where you'll student teach, it'll be easy." And I had myself convinced. But then on the phone with Astrid I visualized sitting in a classroom as an observer day after day and how pissed I'd be. And she pointed out that even if I never admitted it to myself, I'd blame Sean because I chose the traditional credential to accommedate him. And I think I'd admit it to myself, I already find myself blaming him in my mind for stupid things that he either has no real control over, had nothing to do with and are my fault, or that don't matter and aren't worth my blaming him for. It's a symptom of my frustration with our current living arrangement, I think. So give me something real to blame him for and I know I'll jump all over it.
The trouble is, I see myself blaming him as I sit in my car commuting to Vallejo or Concord or Novato anyway. How do you slice away the pieces of your mind that do things like blame people for things? I wish I knew. So the issue isn't settled. Which situation is more livable, I wonder?
I've neatly avoided the whole motherhood issue so far. Astrid suggested I make lists of what being a mother means to me, so I'll start with that.
Mothering is:
- caring for a kid in mundane ways: meals, baths, dressing warmly enough; having a daily schedule we usually stick to, except for special occasions.
- adapting to avoid any allergies.
- taking to the doctor and dentist.
- administering any necessary medicines.
- reading stories before bed, and singing songs.
- going for walks with the dog.
- having birthday parties and play dates with other children.
- helping with learning to read, and later with homework.
- calm, firm discpline; rules for structure and safety.
- maybe going to a church, most likely Unitarian, so he or she can learn about spirituality.
- affection but also allowing a child to be angry with me, or to reject me when necessary.
Being a mother means:
- being responsible.
- patient.
- firm.
- having a sense of humor.
- being comforting.
- encouraging.
- taking pride in a child's achievements.
- giving support.
- trying to understand what he or she is going through; empathy.
- being in charge.
- teaching.
- moments of fear for their safety.
- frustration when they make decisions I don't agree with.
- having to say no.
- having to be strong on days I feel like crap.
- disappointments? I'm not sure. Disappointments come from expectations, and I'm not sure I'd have a lot of expectations that could be disappointed. I suppose if my child liked hurting animals, but then it would be worse than disappointment.
- making sacrifices.
- being tired probably.
Some of the reasons for why I want this right now:
- I've waited and waited to have a child. I've wanted a child since I was a child myself--how and why has changed but the desire for a child really hasn't. When others I knew started having children in their 20s I couldn't, because my situation with my ex just made it impossible. And I don't regret that so much because one of the reasons the divorce happened as smoothly as it did was because we had no children to fight over, and I wouldn't put a child through a divorce if I could avoid it anyway. But I thought that getting a divorce meant moving on from that place where I couldn't have children. And getting into another committed relationship would mean having that option open at last. And now I find it doesn't, that I still have to wait. I've already done so much waiting, I want my child now!
- I feel that having a child would be good for me. I'd have something to live for. Something to focus on, like a project.
- I think a child's experience of discovering the world would help me drop my own cynical lenses and enjoy the world more.
- I have, for a very long time, wanted to make a profound difference for another person. I've often worked in jobs that intended to that, only to be frustrated because you can only do so much for an adult, or for a child being raised by others. I feel that by adopting a child, I'd be able to really create a better life for that child.
Why do I want to do that?
Because to me, the only thing that makes life meaningful is to make somebody else's life better. That probably sounds saccharine. But here's the thing: I don't know what happens when we die, and my dread is that there's the Big Nothing. That's it, game over, nothing left. I hope that's not true, but if it is, then all I have is this time, this life. No heaven or hell, nothing to look forward to. So what's the point? If there's no god to please or displease. Well, then, if all I have is this time, my time is precious. Each person's time is precious. Each living thing. To ruin someone's time is the worst wrong. Because that's it, that's the only time they have, and you've ruined it. Likewise, to improve someone's time is the greatest good. You've made it possible for them to better enjoy the time they have.
Anyway, my life seems adrift to me. I don't particularly feel like I'm doing anything meaningful with it. I'm frustrated creatively. So taking on a child seems like a good project--something to focus on, to work at doing well. And I think I'd be good at it.
Seems sort of... clinical? To think of raising a child as a project. I'm not talking a lot about any emotions here. I suppose I am lonely, although I have Sean. I don't have any friends that I see regularly at the moment. I suppose having a child would mean having another person in my life, and I want that.
You know something else? I think I secretly want being a mother to give me a little more authority--not with the child, but with other people, especially Sean's mom. Like if I'm a mom what I say and what I want will have more weight and she won't feel like she can be so bossy. Which I realize is just silly. She's already acting like I make her insecure. She's always defensive. She blows a lot of hot air about being "the mom" like that gives her the authority to be so pushy with us sometimes, and if I took on that role too, she'd just get more insecure (because she no longer had sole claim to momhood) and therefore become more obnoxious.
I want a family. And honestly, I want my own holidays. I'm sick of going to other people's family's holidays. I've been doing it since my parents split up and my dad started attending his wife's family's holidays and I'd go too. I imagine having children meaning I could put my foot down about such things, but I guess I'd be better off doing that already. Except I don't know how to do that without offending people, or hurting Sean, at this point. I don't want to go to his family's Thanksgiving or Christmas. I don't like most of them, and I don't like having to play nice for hours and hours with all of them, it's like being in a pack of sharks and trying not to make a bad impression. So I see having my own kids as a way to say, "We're having our own small family Christmas this year. We'll come by for two hours on Christmas Eve to see you."
Sometimes I think you have to do unpleasant things and that's just the way it is--going through a traditional credential program, attending family holidays... but then, that's a lesson my mother taught me, and I try to challenge those truths because often they aren't actually true. Do holidays have to be ordeals?
I mean, realistically if I give Sean's mother grandchildren I can expect her to demand that we come and stay for a week so she can be with them. Sigh.
I want a family so I can have people in my life that talk about their day, their plans, the things they enjoy and love. I want to see a child I'm raising grow and become this person of their own, with their own ideas and goals. I hope they'd be a person I'd like a lot, in addition to someone I'd love unconditionally.
Ugh, I don't think I'm getting very far with all of this. I'll think about it some more and come back to it.
I chatted with my friend Astrid (ON MY NEW PHONE) last night for a while. She raised some things for me to think about. I really admire her, and I think I'm a little in awe, because she's so incredibly insightful. Anyway, she suggested that I do some writing and thinking about motherhood, and why I want to have children, especially why now. I'd been telling her how frustrated I am that Sean and I are not in a place yet where we can have kids. She said she thinks there's subconscious stuff there. She also thinks that in my current internal debate over how to fit my program with Sean's, I should not opt for a traditional credential program. Well, she said I'd probably end up resenting Sean for it, and I think she's right, so the conclusion I take that to is that I shouldn't opt for it. And by the time she called yesterday I had pretty much decided in favor of it, so I'm glad we talked.
Some people I talk to about my issues with traditional credential programs don't seem to understand why I dislike the student teaching so much. Sean, for instance, thinks it's because I'd be bored. I would be bored. Student teaching means basically being a TA for a semester and then teaching with a mentor teacher at your side for the next. Not a bad idea for people who are starting out, but I have about 10 years of teaching experience under my belt. So yes, I'd be bored. But that's not the main problem. The main problem is that it profoundly disgusts and enrages me that people who want to be teachers get exploited that way. They aren't paid for the work that they do for that year, and they must do it full time, so having a job in addition is nearly impossible. When people train to become doctors they have to do residencies and that's fine, but they get paid for it! Plus, the salary they can expect when they are done... well, I'm sure you know a teacher isn't going to make that kind of money. A low-end beginning teacher's salary is $30K. TA's make about $8.50 an hour in most of the high schools I've worked in. So if you add that all up, for a semester of TAing and a semester of teaching, student teachers lose about $20K. And they pay tuition for the privilege, so in fact, depending on the cost of the program, they're shelling out quite a bit more. All this for a teacher's salary: $30K to begin, and if they stay in the system long enough, they can hope to one day make around $50K. It's disgusting.
So I tried, yesterday, to rationalize all of it. The best music program for what Sean wants is at CSU Sonoma, which is in a town called Rohnert Park. Rohnert Park is about 40 or so miles from the nearest school in the Bay Area, in Vallejo. Why do we care about the Bay Area? Well, honestly, we despise the Bay Area, but Project Pipeline, the program I want to do is located in two spots in the Bay Area and in Sacramento. They have a list of schools they work with and the closest one to Rohnert Park is in Vallejo. Why do I want to do Project Pipeline? Because instead of having to submit to the student teaching screw-over I'd be working full-time and paid for it while earning my credential in Saturday classes over 2 years. Anyway, Vallejo, Rohnert Park: not close together. We could live in Novato, which would mean we'd both have a 20 mile commute. And we drove over both commutes. Vallejo-Novato is not a short commute, and there's traffic. Plus, on Saturdays I'd have to drive all the way to Concord, which would probably take an hour to an hour and a half. And I hate driving. So yesterday I told myself, "Come on, be reasonable. If you do the credential at CSU Sonoma, yes, you'll suffer for a year, but it's just a year and then you'll have your credential. And there won't be any of this commuting, no Saturdays driving to Concord, you can live right next to the university or the school where you'll student teach, it'll be easy." And I had myself convinced. But then on the phone with Astrid I visualized sitting in a classroom as an observer day after day and how pissed I'd be. And she pointed out that even if I never admitted it to myself, I'd blame Sean because I chose the traditional credential to accommedate him. And I think I'd admit it to myself, I already find myself blaming him in my mind for stupid things that he either has no real control over, had nothing to do with and are my fault, or that don't matter and aren't worth my blaming him for. It's a symptom of my frustration with our current living arrangement, I think. So give me something real to blame him for and I know I'll jump all over it.
The trouble is, I see myself blaming him as I sit in my car commuting to Vallejo or Concord or Novato anyway. How do you slice away the pieces of your mind that do things like blame people for things? I wish I knew. So the issue isn't settled. Which situation is more livable, I wonder?
I've neatly avoided the whole motherhood issue so far. Astrid suggested I make lists of what being a mother means to me, so I'll start with that.
Mothering is:
- caring for a kid in mundane ways: meals, baths, dressing warmly enough; having a daily schedule we usually stick to, except for special occasions.
- adapting to avoid any allergies.
- taking to the doctor and dentist.
- administering any necessary medicines.
- reading stories before bed, and singing songs.
- going for walks with the dog.
- having birthday parties and play dates with other children.
- helping with learning to read, and later with homework.
- calm, firm discpline; rules for structure and safety.
- maybe going to a church, most likely Unitarian, so he or she can learn about spirituality.
- affection but also allowing a child to be angry with me, or to reject me when necessary.
Being a mother means:
- being responsible.
- patient.
- firm.
- having a sense of humor.
- being comforting.
- encouraging.
- taking pride in a child's achievements.
- giving support.
- trying to understand what he or she is going through; empathy.
- being in charge.
- teaching.
- moments of fear for their safety.
- frustration when they make decisions I don't agree with.
- having to say no.
- having to be strong on days I feel like crap.
- disappointments? I'm not sure. Disappointments come from expectations, and I'm not sure I'd have a lot of expectations that could be disappointed. I suppose if my child liked hurting animals, but then it would be worse than disappointment.
- making sacrifices.
- being tired probably.
Some of the reasons for why I want this right now:
- I've waited and waited to have a child. I've wanted a child since I was a child myself--how and why has changed but the desire for a child really hasn't. When others I knew started having children in their 20s I couldn't, because my situation with my ex just made it impossible. And I don't regret that so much because one of the reasons the divorce happened as smoothly as it did was because we had no children to fight over, and I wouldn't put a child through a divorce if I could avoid it anyway. But I thought that getting a divorce meant moving on from that place where I couldn't have children. And getting into another committed relationship would mean having that option open at last. And now I find it doesn't, that I still have to wait. I've already done so much waiting, I want my child now!
- I feel that having a child would be good for me. I'd have something to live for. Something to focus on, like a project.
- I think a child's experience of discovering the world would help me drop my own cynical lenses and enjoy the world more.
- I have, for a very long time, wanted to make a profound difference for another person. I've often worked in jobs that intended to that, only to be frustrated because you can only do so much for an adult, or for a child being raised by others. I feel that by adopting a child, I'd be able to really create a better life for that child.
Why do I want to do that?
Because to me, the only thing that makes life meaningful is to make somebody else's life better. That probably sounds saccharine. But here's the thing: I don't know what happens when we die, and my dread is that there's the Big Nothing. That's it, game over, nothing left. I hope that's not true, but if it is, then all I have is this time, this life. No heaven or hell, nothing to look forward to. So what's the point? If there's no god to please or displease. Well, then, if all I have is this time, my time is precious. Each person's time is precious. Each living thing. To ruin someone's time is the worst wrong. Because that's it, that's the only time they have, and you've ruined it. Likewise, to improve someone's time is the greatest good. You've made it possible for them to better enjoy the time they have.
Anyway, my life seems adrift to me. I don't particularly feel like I'm doing anything meaningful with it. I'm frustrated creatively. So taking on a child seems like a good project--something to focus on, to work at doing well. And I think I'd be good at it.
Seems sort of... clinical? To think of raising a child as a project. I'm not talking a lot about any emotions here. I suppose I am lonely, although I have Sean. I don't have any friends that I see regularly at the moment. I suppose having a child would mean having another person in my life, and I want that.
You know something else? I think I secretly want being a mother to give me a little more authority--not with the child, but with other people, especially Sean's mom. Like if I'm a mom what I say and what I want will have more weight and she won't feel like she can be so bossy. Which I realize is just silly. She's already acting like I make her insecure. She's always defensive. She blows a lot of hot air about being "the mom" like that gives her the authority to be so pushy with us sometimes, and if I took on that role too, she'd just get more insecure (because she no longer had sole claim to momhood) and therefore become more obnoxious.
I want a family. And honestly, I want my own holidays. I'm sick of going to other people's family's holidays. I've been doing it since my parents split up and my dad started attending his wife's family's holidays and I'd go too. I imagine having children meaning I could put my foot down about such things, but I guess I'd be better off doing that already. Except I don't know how to do that without offending people, or hurting Sean, at this point. I don't want to go to his family's Thanksgiving or Christmas. I don't like most of them, and I don't like having to play nice for hours and hours with all of them, it's like being in a pack of sharks and trying not to make a bad impression. So I see having my own kids as a way to say, "We're having our own small family Christmas this year. We'll come by for two hours on Christmas Eve to see you."
Sometimes I think you have to do unpleasant things and that's just the way it is--going through a traditional credential program, attending family holidays... but then, that's a lesson my mother taught me, and I try to challenge those truths because often they aren't actually true. Do holidays have to be ordeals?
I mean, realistically if I give Sean's mother grandchildren I can expect her to demand that we come and stay for a week so she can be with them. Sigh.
I want a family so I can have people in my life that talk about their day, their plans, the things they enjoy and love. I want to see a child I'm raising grow and become this person of their own, with their own ideas and goals. I hope they'd be a person I'd like a lot, in addition to someone I'd love unconditionally.
Ugh, I don't think I'm getting very far with all of this. I'll think about it some more and come back to it.
Sunday, October 01, 2006
good day
Today was a really good day. I had a good day at work, then we went out ot eat, and then we went to a concert.
Work was good because I'd pretty much been home all week sick, and it was good to get out of the house. It was good to chat with people I work with and customers. Plus, they had me bagging bulk items and tagging them, which meant I got to sit most of the day. Usually by the end of the day my feet feel like they're going to explode. I mean I literally have tears welling in my eyes from the pain. Not so today. So much better!
Then after work Sean and I went to Billy Goat's for dinner. Their food is yummy, and it was nice to go out. We have had to work through some tension over going out (he likes to plan way ahead, I like spontaneity) but today it came together easily.
Then we went to a concert. The band has two guys I work with and two others I had not met. They were really good! And the location was awesome. You know, I've never really felt the whole "good energy" thing. Not to this degree anyway. I mean, I've been in a place where everyone was having a good time and being nice to each other, and to me, that was good energy (still is). But this place, we walked in, and it felt great, and nothing had even happened yet. My cold actually retreated. I'm starting to be more of a believer in this stuff...
I talked to one of the two people who run the center, and she told me all about how when they moved in they got all the light fixtures changed, changed the windows, pulled out the old rug... and when they painted, they first wrote words on the walls and drew symbols, then painted over them. In the paint they mixed frankincense and fairy dust (glitter, I expect).
You know, I'm a skeptic, despite my own wishes, but I have to say, there was something real there. Mount Shasta really is an amazing place.
Work was good because I'd pretty much been home all week sick, and it was good to get out of the house. It was good to chat with people I work with and customers. Plus, they had me bagging bulk items and tagging them, which meant I got to sit most of the day. Usually by the end of the day my feet feel like they're going to explode. I mean I literally have tears welling in my eyes from the pain. Not so today. So much better!
Then after work Sean and I went to Billy Goat's for dinner. Their food is yummy, and it was nice to go out. We have had to work through some tension over going out (he likes to plan way ahead, I like spontaneity) but today it came together easily.
Then we went to a concert. The band has two guys I work with and two others I had not met. They were really good! And the location was awesome. You know, I've never really felt the whole "good energy" thing. Not to this degree anyway. I mean, I've been in a place where everyone was having a good time and being nice to each other, and to me, that was good energy (still is). But this place, we walked in, and it felt great, and nothing had even happened yet. My cold actually retreated. I'm starting to be more of a believer in this stuff...
I talked to one of the two people who run the center, and she told me all about how when they moved in they got all the light fixtures changed, changed the windows, pulled out the old rug... and when they painted, they first wrote words on the walls and drew symbols, then painted over them. In the paint they mixed frankincense and fairy dust (glitter, I expect).
You know, I'm a skeptic, despite my own wishes, but I have to say, there was something real there. Mount Shasta really is an amazing place.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Food & Writing
Food annoys me.
Foods I am currently avoiding in a combined effort to: 1) Lose weight and 2) return my bowels to some kind of normalcy:
wheat/gluten
eggs
all meats and poultry except fish
deep fried foods
refined sugar (although I haven't been very vigilant about that one)
and I'm trying to go easy on the milk products
Which leaves, in the school's cafeteria:
raw vegetables without dressing
cottage cheese
unsweetened tea
sandwich cheese
I had a nice enough salad on Tuesday but I did break down and put some ranch on it. I'm pretty sure ranch has egg in it. In any case I have trouble justifying the $6 cost of a caf lunch if it's for salad and cottage cheese. I did remember to bring some snacks today, but it's nothing substantial, and I'm wanting substantial at the moment. It would help to pack better options. I need tuperware or some equivalent. Sandwich bags. I hate to buy disposable plastic. Maybe my health store has an alternative.
I have my wheat-free, egg-free cookie yet to eat, it's chocolate so it'll probably be good. There are, surprisingly enough, some good ones out there. It might work to at least bring my own dressing, so I can use the caf's salad bar. Nothing wrong with salad. Although again, paying $6 seems steep. I do wish they'd make vegetarian soup, since it's starting to get colder. There are so many vegetarians in Shasta but I guess not so much among the college students, so they don't think to make that option.
What I really hate, and what usually kills my resolve, is thinking about food all of the time. It's so much easier just to only have good options and then pick from within them. I'm trying to get there at home. I had a soy yoghurt for breakfast. Regular yoghurt isn't on my no-no list but I actually like the soy kind so what the hell. What I need is gluten-free bread so I can bring a sandwich to school.
In other news...
It's self-destructive to read about the publishing industry, or the trends in the field of writing today, but somehow I am a moth to that flame. Give me a little spark, a little flicker of renewed enthusiam for writing, and I'm picking up the writing mags and reading the articles one by one. My confidence and energy for writing is so fragile, though, and now I'm turned off of memoirs because I read that they're so trendy that literary fiction is getting pushed aside in favor of them, and I also can't stand the number of ads for "low-residency" MFA programs out there. Churning out writers. Mostly very pretentious writers, most of whom will never get published unless they publish themselves, which brings me to the vanity press's ads that almost rival the MFA ads.
Which in turn brings me to my usual crisis over writing, and whether there's any point to even trying, and not knowing what to write, what genre, should I aim for a general audience or go for the literary elite? Should I stick to poetry or attempt a novel? For teens? in a totally pomo breaking-the-rules style? a mystery?
The thing about memoirs, is it sure nails the "write what you know" thing, plagiarism and falsified memoirs aside. And I'm struggling with that "write what you know" thing. Can I write fiction and write "truth"? Who am I to try to tell a story I never experience? I mean, I like to read fiction. I like to watch fiction. I don't really have a problem with the "truth" thing there--as long as the story is internally consistent, follows its own rules... and yet the art I like is raw and I guess autobiographical. Certainly so is the poetry. Frida Kahlo, Anne Sexton.
Is the answer to write raw poetry and abandon writing fiction until I'm off my unleasing-my-anger-to-fuel-my-writing phase? But what I want to write is a novel. I kind of see poetry as a waste of time. Why? I don't even know why. It seems like it's superfluous somehow, and yet I love the poems I've collected: Sexton, Shange, Angelou, Bushon, etc. They are valuable to me. And I think good fiction is valuable because it entertains and because it can move you, and I certainly think the same thing about these poems. What is my problem with writing poetry? It's too easy? Maybe. Too easy, too short. I can write a poem I'm reasonably happy with (which is the height of my satisfaction with any writing I do) in about an hour. Maybe I'm vain. I don't want ot be known as a poet. There's something fluffy about being a poet. Yes, even Allen Ginsberg, you know, howling away, is somehow more of a lightweight than Steinbeck. And yet I'd rather read Ginsberg.
(And fuck, I just accidentally deleted a whole paragraph. But the point of it was, every writer is unique and so there's something to be said for writing even though it's all been done before, and others have done it "better", because as a writer you may become the one writer that someone really loves.)
Foods I am currently avoiding in a combined effort to: 1) Lose weight and 2) return my bowels to some kind of normalcy:
wheat/gluten
eggs
all meats and poultry except fish
deep fried foods
refined sugar (although I haven't been very vigilant about that one)
and I'm trying to go easy on the milk products
Which leaves, in the school's cafeteria:
raw vegetables without dressing
cottage cheese
unsweetened tea
sandwich cheese
I had a nice enough salad on Tuesday but I did break down and put some ranch on it. I'm pretty sure ranch has egg in it. In any case I have trouble justifying the $6 cost of a caf lunch if it's for salad and cottage cheese. I did remember to bring some snacks today, but it's nothing substantial, and I'm wanting substantial at the moment. It would help to pack better options. I need tuperware or some equivalent. Sandwich bags. I hate to buy disposable plastic. Maybe my health store has an alternative.
I have my wheat-free, egg-free cookie yet to eat, it's chocolate so it'll probably be good. There are, surprisingly enough, some good ones out there. It might work to at least bring my own dressing, so I can use the caf's salad bar. Nothing wrong with salad. Although again, paying $6 seems steep. I do wish they'd make vegetarian soup, since it's starting to get colder. There are so many vegetarians in Shasta but I guess not so much among the college students, so they don't think to make that option.
What I really hate, and what usually kills my resolve, is thinking about food all of the time. It's so much easier just to only have good options and then pick from within them. I'm trying to get there at home. I had a soy yoghurt for breakfast. Regular yoghurt isn't on my no-no list but I actually like the soy kind so what the hell. What I need is gluten-free bread so I can bring a sandwich to school.
In other news...
It's self-destructive to read about the publishing industry, or the trends in the field of writing today, but somehow I am a moth to that flame. Give me a little spark, a little flicker of renewed enthusiam for writing, and I'm picking up the writing mags and reading the articles one by one. My confidence and energy for writing is so fragile, though, and now I'm turned off of memoirs because I read that they're so trendy that literary fiction is getting pushed aside in favor of them, and I also can't stand the number of ads for "low-residency" MFA programs out there. Churning out writers. Mostly very pretentious writers, most of whom will never get published unless they publish themselves, which brings me to the vanity press's ads that almost rival the MFA ads.
Which in turn brings me to my usual crisis over writing, and whether there's any point to even trying, and not knowing what to write, what genre, should I aim for a general audience or go for the literary elite? Should I stick to poetry or attempt a novel? For teens? in a totally pomo breaking-the-rules style? a mystery?
The thing about memoirs, is it sure nails the "write what you know" thing, plagiarism and falsified memoirs aside. And I'm struggling with that "write what you know" thing. Can I write fiction and write "truth"? Who am I to try to tell a story I never experience? I mean, I like to read fiction. I like to watch fiction. I don't really have a problem with the "truth" thing there--as long as the story is internally consistent, follows its own rules... and yet the art I like is raw and I guess autobiographical. Certainly so is the poetry. Frida Kahlo, Anne Sexton.
Is the answer to write raw poetry and abandon writing fiction until I'm off my unleasing-my-anger-to-fuel-my-writing phase? But what I want to write is a novel. I kind of see poetry as a waste of time. Why? I don't even know why. It seems like it's superfluous somehow, and yet I love the poems I've collected: Sexton, Shange, Angelou, Bushon, etc. They are valuable to me. And I think good fiction is valuable because it entertains and because it can move you, and I certainly think the same thing about these poems. What is my problem with writing poetry? It's too easy? Maybe. Too easy, too short. I can write a poem I'm reasonably happy with (which is the height of my satisfaction with any writing I do) in about an hour. Maybe I'm vain. I don't want ot be known as a poet. There's something fluffy about being a poet. Yes, even Allen Ginsberg, you know, howling away, is somehow more of a lightweight than Steinbeck. And yet I'd rather read Ginsberg.
(And fuck, I just accidentally deleted a whole paragraph. But the point of it was, every writer is unique and so there's something to be said for writing even though it's all been done before, and others have done it "better", because as a writer you may become the one writer that someone really loves.)
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
what's new
I seem to be pretty much through with the withdrawal. Every now and then I get a "zap" but it doesn't last. So for me, I guess it took about two and a half weeks to get done with it.
I feel better, physically and emotionally. I've also been trying a lot of wheat-free alternative products and egg-free products. My mother's friend F recently found out she's allergic to wheat and eggs. She's heavy and has always struggled with her weight. She went to a doctor for blood tests and after an initial series that turned up nothing, another set (more thorough somehow) showed she was allergic to wheat and eggs. I guess in her case the main result was that her body can't metabolize wheat or eggs, and so it just stores them as fat. I don't know if she had any other symptoms. When F found out about the allergies she called her mother and told her, and her mother said, "Oh yeah, when you were a child you were allergic to eggs--you vomited whenever you ate them." I guess the wisdom at the time dictated that F's mother continue to feed her eggs, so she'd get over the allergy, and she appeared to since the vomiting stopped. My mother told me all of this and then added, "And you used to vomit after eating eggs when you were little too." Hence the forays into gluten-free, egg-free food alternatives. I'm hoping to find a nutritionist or someone like that and get some tests done soon. It feels like since I started avoiding wheat and eggs (although I haven't totally cut them out) that my digestion is better. I'll spare you the details but something's been rotten in Denmark for a very long time. Things haven't been just normal, you know, in at least six months, and I think it's probably been years, actually. And lo and behold, this week, things are starting to firm up. Is it getting off the paxil? Is it getting enough sleep? Is it eating less wheat and eggs? We'll see how it goes.
I'm not even drinking the kava all that much. I did this morning because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and I don't want to be too edgy today. That's another thing--last night, I wasn't tired even when I finally made myself go to bed at 2am, and even then I lay awake. This is very unusual for me... or at least, I think it is. It's hard to know because paxil sedates and I've been on it for so long I don't really remember... Except I do know I used to wake up early a lot and not be able to go back to sleep. I don't think going to sleep at night was ever a problem for me.
Anyway, in other news...
I got a new job at a health food store in town. Hence access to wheat-free/egg-free products. I started last week and I've been working my ass off. 8 hour shifts suck. The job is actually pretty great though (so far). Everyone is super nice and it's really low key. Everyone has a 2 hour shift on the register and the rest of the time, you just stock. It can get kind of slow. All the supervisors I've had have been nice, no weird demands or obsessiveness, so I'm hoping that keeps up. And it pays about a dollar more than the gift store, so that's a bonus. But being on my feet for 8 hours eventually becomes excruciating. I blame my weight. My left foot's arch, in particular, hurts like a bitch, but by the end of the day both feet throb awfully, so it's truly agonizing to walk. I work 2 to 3 days a week (so far 3, but later this month 2). I did a 6 hour training on Wed., then 8 hours on Fri., 8 hours on Sat., and 8 hours on Mon. Saturday was the worst. It was like 16 hours of being on my feet. Yesterday (Mon.) actually was better because I bought gel insoles and they seemed to be doing the trick, but then closing took a lot longer than on the other days and by the end I thought I was going to cry.
Sean and I talked about my requesting fewer hours, and he was even pushing for me to
just quit and not work for a while, but we went over the budget last night, and we need the income if we want to eat well and be able to afford cell phones, health insurance, etc. So I'm not going to ask to have my hours cut or anything. In any case it doesn't look like I'll always have three day weeks and that may even become a bit of a problem so I don't think it's wise to ask for fewer hours.
Sunday Sean and I took the dog for a walk by Lake Siskiyou, which was beautiful and a lot of fun for her, since she got to meet other dogs and collect a lot of sniffs. Then Sean and I pulled out the sofa-bed in the living room and had a Lost (Season 2) marathon. We ate angelfood cake with strawberries, that strawberry goo they sell for shortcake, and Cool Whip. It was so nice.
I feel better, physically and emotionally. I've also been trying a lot of wheat-free alternative products and egg-free products. My mother's friend F recently found out she's allergic to wheat and eggs. She's heavy and has always struggled with her weight. She went to a doctor for blood tests and after an initial series that turned up nothing, another set (more thorough somehow) showed she was allergic to wheat and eggs. I guess in her case the main result was that her body can't metabolize wheat or eggs, and so it just stores them as fat. I don't know if she had any other symptoms. When F found out about the allergies she called her mother and told her, and her mother said, "Oh yeah, when you were a child you were allergic to eggs--you vomited whenever you ate them." I guess the wisdom at the time dictated that F's mother continue to feed her eggs, so she'd get over the allergy, and she appeared to since the vomiting stopped. My mother told me all of this and then added, "And you used to vomit after eating eggs when you were little too." Hence the forays into gluten-free, egg-free food alternatives. I'm hoping to find a nutritionist or someone like that and get some tests done soon. It feels like since I started avoiding wheat and eggs (although I haven't totally cut them out) that my digestion is better. I'll spare you the details but something's been rotten in Denmark for a very long time. Things haven't been just normal, you know, in at least six months, and I think it's probably been years, actually. And lo and behold, this week, things are starting to firm up. Is it getting off the paxil? Is it getting enough sleep? Is it eating less wheat and eggs? We'll see how it goes.
I'm not even drinking the kava all that much. I did this morning because I didn't get a lot of sleep last night and I don't want to be too edgy today. That's another thing--last night, I wasn't tired even when I finally made myself go to bed at 2am, and even then I lay awake. This is very unusual for me... or at least, I think it is. It's hard to know because paxil sedates and I've been on it for so long I don't really remember... Except I do know I used to wake up early a lot and not be able to go back to sleep. I don't think going to sleep at night was ever a problem for me.
Anyway, in other news...
I got a new job at a health food store in town. Hence access to wheat-free/egg-free products. I started last week and I've been working my ass off. 8 hour shifts suck. The job is actually pretty great though (so far). Everyone is super nice and it's really low key. Everyone has a 2 hour shift on the register and the rest of the time, you just stock. It can get kind of slow. All the supervisors I've had have been nice, no weird demands or obsessiveness, so I'm hoping that keeps up. And it pays about a dollar more than the gift store, so that's a bonus. But being on my feet for 8 hours eventually becomes excruciating. I blame my weight. My left foot's arch, in particular, hurts like a bitch, but by the end of the day both feet throb awfully, so it's truly agonizing to walk. I work 2 to 3 days a week (so far 3, but later this month 2). I did a 6 hour training on Wed., then 8 hours on Fri., 8 hours on Sat., and 8 hours on Mon. Saturday was the worst. It was like 16 hours of being on my feet. Yesterday (Mon.) actually was better because I bought gel insoles and they seemed to be doing the trick, but then closing took a lot longer than on the other days and by the end I thought I was going to cry.
Sean and I talked about my requesting fewer hours, and he was even pushing for me to
just quit and not work for a while, but we went over the budget last night, and we need the income if we want to eat well and be able to afford cell phones, health insurance, etc. So I'm not going to ask to have my hours cut or anything. In any case it doesn't look like I'll always have three day weeks and that may even become a bit of a problem so I don't think it's wise to ask for fewer hours.Sunday Sean and I took the dog for a walk by Lake Siskiyou, which was beautiful and a lot of fun for her, since she got to meet other dogs and collect a lot of sniffs. Then Sean and I pulled out the sofa-bed in the living room and had a Lost (Season 2) marathon. We ate angelfood cake with strawberries, that strawberry goo they sell for shortcake, and Cool Whip. It was so nice.
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
okay, I guess I'm into medicating.
Well, after the Grand Paxil Betrayal you might expect I'd just go cold turkey, never touch another chemical as long as live, and I kind of wish that was how it would go too. But, I find I am still drawn to the "cure" fantasy. "All I needed was to take this med and it fixed all my debilitating problems... all I needed was the cure." In any case, I have been taking kava kava off and on, mainly to ease the withdrawal from Paxil. I may try taking it in future, once the withdrawal is over, because from what I've read about it, it helps with depression, anxiety, and panic, and as long as you stick to mild doses the side effects are rare and pretty low-key.
I've considered that I'm trying to take a chemical in order to solve my emotional problems instead of working through what I need to work through to get better. I guess I don't have a lot of faith in my ability to get to the other side of the issues. Maybe I'm not even sure there is an other side. You know, I tried to deal with the death rushes for years unmedicated. No dice.
I feel like the CBT I went through last fall really helped a lot to give me ways to combat my depression. I went in believing my thinking patterns were fine, not the problem, but I learned to identify a lot of ways in which my thinking was the problem. So it was absolutely worthwhile. And you don't get addicted or go through withdrawals or gain an average of 40-60 pounds when you do CBT. So I feel confident recommending it. In my experience, it can only help. Of course, I think my therapist was a good one (although perhaps not great). I imagine a bad therapist could screw CBT up. But I think of all the therapy types, it's so straightforward, it seems like even a mediocre therapist could do a good job with it.
Anyway, my point is, I've done therapy. The CBT was the fifth time I've done it. As far as the big-catharsis-oh-finally-I-see-my-subconscious-need-to-be-an-underwater-ballet-performer-epiphany-moment concept of therapy goes, I don't believe in it anymore. Maybe there are exceptionally brilliant psychologists out there who really can help you straighten out all the tangles in your mind and soul, but I don't know where they are, and I probably couldn't afford them anyway. I think I'm stuck with the tangles. And I think maybe I'll unravel some of them, a little at a time. But it's not going to happen overnight.
Which brings me to medication. I would rather take regular doses of heroin than live with the death rushes. It's that simple, and it's that clear to me. The feelings I deal with when they are in their full-blown glory are intolerable. I would rather go back on Paxil. And believe me, right now, Paxil seems like the worse con in all of history. But if I am faced with dwelling in death rushes or going back on Paxil, gaining even more weight, being an addict, having the zaps when I let my dose dip, and all the other crap, I'd take the Paxil.
But, hopefully it won't come to that. I do think the CBT tools have made it possible for me to manage my depression, and part of the use of the Paxil was for the depression. The CBT may also work somewhat for managing my anxiety, although I find that a lot more difficult. Mainly it's a lot of work. I can do the CBT stuff in my head mostly for the depression. I think if the depression got a lot worst that might not be enough, but the point is if I stay on top of my thinking, that shouldn't happen. For the CBT to really work for anxiety, I think I have to keep writing everything down. And at this point I just hate diverting so my of my time and energy to that. I mean I'd be carrying around a notebook all day long. It's fine for a couple of months while I was in therapy to do that--it was my project. I don't want to spend the rest of my life that way. I have a lot of other things I want to do with my time and energy. And I don't like the sense that I'm obsessed with my own navel.
So maybe, if it becomes necessary once I'm done with the Paxil withdrawals, I'll drink a dose of kava kava each day to stave off anxiety and the death rushes. They certainly seem to have faded out since I started taking it for the withdrawal. We'll see how it goes. Maybe getting regular exercise and eating a healthier diet (Sean and I are determined to start that now that his mother and step-father are finally gone), and getting 9 hours of sleep at night, maybe losing the Paxil weight... maybe it will be enough. I'd rather be chemical-free.
I've considered that I'm trying to take a chemical in order to solve my emotional problems instead of working through what I need to work through to get better. I guess I don't have a lot of faith in my ability to get to the other side of the issues. Maybe I'm not even sure there is an other side. You know, I tried to deal with the death rushes for years unmedicated. No dice.
I feel like the CBT I went through last fall really helped a lot to give me ways to combat my depression. I went in believing my thinking patterns were fine, not the problem, but I learned to identify a lot of ways in which my thinking was the problem. So it was absolutely worthwhile. And you don't get addicted or go through withdrawals or gain an average of 40-60 pounds when you do CBT. So I feel confident recommending it. In my experience, it can only help. Of course, I think my therapist was a good one (although perhaps not great). I imagine a bad therapist could screw CBT up. But I think of all the therapy types, it's so straightforward, it seems like even a mediocre therapist could do a good job with it.
Anyway, my point is, I've done therapy. The CBT was the fifth time I've done it. As far as the big-catharsis-oh-finally-I-see-my-subconscious-need-to-be-an-underwater-ballet-performer-epiphany-moment concept of therapy goes, I don't believe in it anymore. Maybe there are exceptionally brilliant psychologists out there who really can help you straighten out all the tangles in your mind and soul, but I don't know where they are, and I probably couldn't afford them anyway. I think I'm stuck with the tangles. And I think maybe I'll unravel some of them, a little at a time. But it's not going to happen overnight.
Which brings me to medication. I would rather take regular doses of heroin than live with the death rushes. It's that simple, and it's that clear to me. The feelings I deal with when they are in their full-blown glory are intolerable. I would rather go back on Paxil. And believe me, right now, Paxil seems like the worse con in all of history. But if I am faced with dwelling in death rushes or going back on Paxil, gaining even more weight, being an addict, having the zaps when I let my dose dip, and all the other crap, I'd take the Paxil.
But, hopefully it won't come to that. I do think the CBT tools have made it possible for me to manage my depression, and part of the use of the Paxil was for the depression. The CBT may also work somewhat for managing my anxiety, although I find that a lot more difficult. Mainly it's a lot of work. I can do the CBT stuff in my head mostly for the depression. I think if the depression got a lot worst that might not be enough, but the point is if I stay on top of my thinking, that shouldn't happen. For the CBT to really work for anxiety, I think I have to keep writing everything down. And at this point I just hate diverting so my of my time and energy to that. I mean I'd be carrying around a notebook all day long. It's fine for a couple of months while I was in therapy to do that--it was my project. I don't want to spend the rest of my life that way. I have a lot of other things I want to do with my time and energy. And I don't like the sense that I'm obsessed with my own navel.
So maybe, if it becomes necessary once I'm done with the Paxil withdrawals, I'll drink a dose of kava kava each day to stave off anxiety and the death rushes. They certainly seem to have faded out since I started taking it for the withdrawal. We'll see how it goes. Maybe getting regular exercise and eating a healthier diet (Sean and I are determined to start that now that his mother and step-father are finally gone), and getting 9 hours of sleep at night, maybe losing the Paxil weight... maybe it will be enough. I'd rather be chemical-free.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
Unbelievable.
I feel so stupid. I feel like the truth was all around me and I just turned a blind eye. I guess I wanted to believe that all the signs were wrong, because I needed the fucking drug. God, I'm an addict.
Did you know that SSRIs are dependency-forming and addictive? I don't think I'd have had too much trouble with this one. Of course, I'd have agreed. They alter your brain chemistry and you can't quit them abruptly so sure, they are habit-forming.
What I didn't know about was the withdrawal period, which can last several months. Jesus.
That and I just read that paxil causes weight gain. It messes up your metabolism. I've been going nuts trying to figure out why I'm up to 217lbs and I've been generally eating healthy and getting a fair bit of exercise.
God, I feel so betrayed.
I believed in this stuff, I though it was my fucking salvation, I feel like such an idiot. Such a typical junkie.
I've been tapering off, trying to quit, because I have to buy health insurance soon and if I'm on it they'll see this as a pre-existing condition and deny me coverage. (Yay for the shareholders.)
And lo-and-behold, this last week I've been having these awful bouts of shock-like symptoms. Tingling in the mouth and hands, seeing stars, clammy skin, cold sweats. I've been having the most horrific nightmares. I've been nearly out of my mind, and so worried about it, thinking this is it, I'm finally having some kind of real psychotic break, here. I'm going to develop adult-onset schizophrenia and lose myself completely. It's been fucking terrifying. Not to mention the digestive problems. And the mood swings... god, the anger. I actually fantasized about leaving Sean last night, I was so furious over some stupid shit that happened yesterday.
So anyway, I've been feeling rotten for about a week. Today I went online to try to research my symptoms, try to get some idea of why I might be having these near-fainting spells, feel like I'm going into shock. Are the bowel troubles related? Am I having diabetic crises, have I developed diabetes? Or is my heart--heart disease runs in my family. Severe dips in blood pressure? And I researched all this for a while and didn't really come up with anything other than a sense that I should check myself into a hospital asap.
And then, I thought, "Oh yeah, I wanted to check out withdrawal from Paxil." Because Sean mentioned that someone he knew got dizzy.
And there it all was, in a bulleted list. Every single symptom, including "You are seriously concerned that you are going insane."
Christ.
Jesus Christ.
I want to fucking kill someone. Why didn't I hear about any of this before?
And yet I did, in little bits and pieces. If I'd put them all together... If I'd just listened to my friend Dante instead of thinking he was wrong... GOD. DAMN. IT.
Okay, so the good news? Eventually I'll get through the withdrawal period and feel normal again.
The bad news? What about my panic attacks? See, "normal" for me can get pretty fucking bleak. Unmedicated is not a generally a good state for me. It looks like Paxil's the worst, but most of the other SSRIs are pretty bad too. Can I take beta-blockers? Xanax? I can manage my depression since therapy, and maybe even the regular anxiety, you know. I don't know about the OCD thoughts. And the panic attacks, god. I thought the meds would save me. But they turned me into an addict, my god. I've spent my whole life staying away from addictions, and I've even struggled against my food addictions, but this just snuck up, because I thought that SSRIs weren't addicitve. You had to take them a certain way, but they weren't addictive. You didn't have to go through withdrawal like heroin or something.
Jesus, how can I have sat through Walk the Line feeling all smug because "everybody knows just because you get drugs on prescription it doesn't make you any less of an addict," right? Uppers and downs, sleeping pills and valium, mother's little helpers. I knew perfectly well about the pills women popped in the sixties when they wrestled with the "problem with no name" and how totally destructive and real those pills were, real drugs. But not my Paxil. Not my vitamin P.
I'm such a fucking sucker.
So I've got one 10mg dose left. After that, cold turkey. This should be very, very fun.
Did you know that SSRIs are dependency-forming and addictive? I don't think I'd have had too much trouble with this one. Of course, I'd have agreed. They alter your brain chemistry and you can't quit them abruptly so sure, they are habit-forming.
What I didn't know about was the withdrawal period, which can last several months. Jesus.
That and I just read that paxil causes weight gain. It messes up your metabolism. I've been going nuts trying to figure out why I'm up to 217lbs and I've been generally eating healthy and getting a fair bit of exercise.
God, I feel so betrayed.
I believed in this stuff, I though it was my fucking salvation, I feel like such an idiot. Such a typical junkie.
I've been tapering off, trying to quit, because I have to buy health insurance soon and if I'm on it they'll see this as a pre-existing condition and deny me coverage. (Yay for the shareholders.)
And lo-and-behold, this last week I've been having these awful bouts of shock-like symptoms. Tingling in the mouth and hands, seeing stars, clammy skin, cold sweats. I've been having the most horrific nightmares. I've been nearly out of my mind, and so worried about it, thinking this is it, I'm finally having some kind of real psychotic break, here. I'm going to develop adult-onset schizophrenia and lose myself completely. It's been fucking terrifying. Not to mention the digestive problems. And the mood swings... god, the anger. I actually fantasized about leaving Sean last night, I was so furious over some stupid shit that happened yesterday.
So anyway, I've been feeling rotten for about a week. Today I went online to try to research my symptoms, try to get some idea of why I might be having these near-fainting spells, feel like I'm going into shock. Are the bowel troubles related? Am I having diabetic crises, have I developed diabetes? Or is my heart--heart disease runs in my family. Severe dips in blood pressure? And I researched all this for a while and didn't really come up with anything other than a sense that I should check myself into a hospital asap.
And then, I thought, "Oh yeah, I wanted to check out withdrawal from Paxil." Because Sean mentioned that someone he knew got dizzy.
And there it all was, in a bulleted list. Every single symptom, including "You are seriously concerned that you are going insane."
Christ.
Jesus Christ.
I want to fucking kill someone. Why didn't I hear about any of this before?
And yet I did, in little bits and pieces. If I'd put them all together... If I'd just listened to my friend Dante instead of thinking he was wrong... GOD. DAMN. IT.
Okay, so the good news? Eventually I'll get through the withdrawal period and feel normal again.
The bad news? What about my panic attacks? See, "normal" for me can get pretty fucking bleak. Unmedicated is not a generally a good state for me. It looks like Paxil's the worst, but most of the other SSRIs are pretty bad too. Can I take beta-blockers? Xanax? I can manage my depression since therapy, and maybe even the regular anxiety, you know. I don't know about the OCD thoughts. And the panic attacks, god. I thought the meds would save me. But they turned me into an addict, my god. I've spent my whole life staying away from addictions, and I've even struggled against my food addictions, but this just snuck up, because I thought that SSRIs weren't addicitve. You had to take them a certain way, but they weren't addictive. You didn't have to go through withdrawal like heroin or something.
Jesus, how can I have sat through Walk the Line feeling all smug because "everybody knows just because you get drugs on prescription it doesn't make you any less of an addict," right? Uppers and downs, sleeping pills and valium, mother's little helpers. I knew perfectly well about the pills women popped in the sixties when they wrestled with the "problem with no name" and how totally destructive and real those pills were, real drugs. But not my Paxil. Not my vitamin P.
I'm such a fucking sucker.
So I've got one 10mg dose left. After that, cold turkey. This should be very, very fun.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
maybe Leroy would approve
Just copying this from my notebook... I've been reading all morning; Ntosake Shange, Anne Sexton, Erica Jong, Taniguchi Buson... my brain feels fit to burst.
How do you write about how full of shit everyone is?
How do you write when it's all bullshit? All pretensious crap.
One form is as worthless as another. Poem, murder mystery, whatever.
How do you write rage and fear and depression? Why add more to the tangible world?
People are such a mix of beauty and ugliness (and who says which is which). How do you represent them with any accuracy?
Writer of angst.
or
Pollyanna Saccharine.
Just write about a house and the family in it but that's just 7th Heaven. The Brady Bunch. It's been done.
It's all been done and its all meaningless. There's nothing new and nothing ever changes so what's the point?
...
My imaginary audience pins me. Stabs me. Spears me. Strangles me. Every time. I begin, and thrust! --They thrust me back with their spear of disapproval, boredom, expectation, disinterest
We want Sex in the City.
We want a hero who's a loose cannon. Arrogant oneliners.
Don't give us the same old poem we've read a hundred times before.
Why bother writing another story about *insert anything here*
It's been done! It's been done! It's all been done before and there's nothing new under the sun
it's all gimmicks and marketing. Will they read it? Will it sell? No one wants to read about that
It starts out good but it falls apart. You can't keep it together
It's not believable
It doesn't work
It's too dull even to be awful
and everyone who likes it is just shallow themselves and being taken in by the glittery bullshit.
You can't trust anyone.
They're just impressed you wrote at all.
I came to the conclusion, in my darkest atheist days, that if all we have is this time, nothing after death, if we all die anyway and that's it--then all that matters is this time. All that can give life meaning--the only thing you can do that is worth anything--is to make someone else's time better. And entertaining them counts.
So why can't I just do that?
I am a reluctant cynic. I grasp at gossamer ideas--spirituality, butterflies as proof of beauty, orgasms as proof that my body is good, the existence of civil rights as proof that humanity is getting better, albeit slowly... I argue with the sense that nothing changes--I argue desperately. I struggle against the conclusion that evil will always win because good just can't compete without losing it's essential goodness... But in the end if I wrote what is raging in my heart I would be known as the worst cynic, the darkest most angst-ridden death obsessed poem, hopeless and mired in depression and fear.
And it's all been done before/written before, and it was done better than I could ever do, so what in the world would I hope to bring to the table? Who am I to write about a pregnant black member of a girl gang? My own life is so flat--I've read it over and over in my memory, in my journals, it's lackluster now, used up.
Ideas spring to mind and die even more quickly. Who am I to claim to be a writer? Who do I hope to fool? Why does anyone else think they can fool people?
But look at Anne Sexton. Look at the blood on her pages. She's not trying to fool anyone, or is she? How can you fool someone when it's really your blood?
Why can't I seem to find my own veins, except occassionally to write an angsty rant about nothing that even matters?
How do you go from there to a poem? To a novel? It's just scribbling.
How do you write about how full of shit everyone is?
How do you write when it's all bullshit? All pretensious crap.
One form is as worthless as another. Poem, murder mystery, whatever.
How do you write rage and fear and depression? Why add more to the tangible world?
People are such a mix of beauty and ugliness (and who says which is which). How do you represent them with any accuracy?
Writer of angst.
or
Pollyanna Saccharine.
Just write about a house and the family in it but that's just 7th Heaven. The Brady Bunch. It's been done.
It's all been done and its all meaningless. There's nothing new and nothing ever changes so what's the point?
...
My imaginary audience pins me. Stabs me. Spears me. Strangles me. Every time. I begin, and thrust! --They thrust me back with their spear of disapproval, boredom, expectation, disinterest
We want Sex in the City.
We want a hero who's a loose cannon. Arrogant oneliners.
Don't give us the same old poem we've read a hundred times before.
Why bother writing another story about *insert anything here*
It's been done! It's been done! It's all been done before and there's nothing new under the sun
it's all gimmicks and marketing. Will they read it? Will it sell? No one wants to read about that
It starts out good but it falls apart. You can't keep it together
It's not believable
It doesn't work
It's too dull even to be awful
and everyone who likes it is just shallow themselves and being taken in by the glittery bullshit.
You can't trust anyone.
They're just impressed you wrote at all.
I came to the conclusion, in my darkest atheist days, that if all we have is this time, nothing after death, if we all die anyway and that's it--then all that matters is this time. All that can give life meaning--the only thing you can do that is worth anything--is to make someone else's time better. And entertaining them counts.
So why can't I just do that?
I am a reluctant cynic. I grasp at gossamer ideas--spirituality, butterflies as proof of beauty, orgasms as proof that my body is good, the existence of civil rights as proof that humanity is getting better, albeit slowly... I argue with the sense that nothing changes--I argue desperately. I struggle against the conclusion that evil will always win because good just can't compete without losing it's essential goodness... But in the end if I wrote what is raging in my heart I would be known as the worst cynic, the darkest most angst-ridden death obsessed poem, hopeless and mired in depression and fear.
And it's all been done before/written before, and it was done better than I could ever do, so what in the world would I hope to bring to the table? Who am I to write about a pregnant black member of a girl gang? My own life is so flat--I've read it over and over in my memory, in my journals, it's lackluster now, used up.
Ideas spring to mind and die even more quickly. Who am I to claim to be a writer? Who do I hope to fool? Why does anyone else think they can fool people?
But look at Anne Sexton. Look at the blood on her pages. She's not trying to fool anyone, or is she? How can you fool someone when it's really your blood?
Why can't I seem to find my own veins, except occassionally to write an angsty rant about nothing that even matters?
How do you go from there to a poem? To a novel? It's just scribbling.
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
free at last
My big news is I got my paperwork in the mail today, and I am officially divorced. That whole process was very difficult, so this comes as a huge relief. Of course, I'm a little sad, too, but mostly I'm glad. My legal name is now back to my maiden name, which is so nice. It's funny, how much my name means to me, how having my maiden name back means a new sense of my identity, and how my married name carries with it a sense of everything that went with being married. I'm glad it's behind me.
So today really feels like the first day of the rest of my life.
It helps that we're almost of of this financial wasteland we're been hiking through since May.
Sean's getting on with the next phase of his life, too. This semester he's taking a bunch of music classes at the local community college and writing his thesis. I'm also going to try to finish my thesis this semester... it may take until the end of spring semester, we'll see. Either way by the end of this school year I should finish my MA.
After that, in fall 2007, Sean is going to enroll in a second bachelors in music. He's hoping the cc classes will help get him really well prepared for that so he can shave off some of the beginning classes and get through a little quicker. Many places have it set up so that even though he doesn't have to do any general ed classes he's still stuck doing four or more years, because of their prerequisites and required classes. He plans to get a teaching credential in music. The nice thing is once he has that credential he just has to take a test to add on another, so he will probably add on a math or English credential so he'll be more marketable. He's also interested in doing a PE credential--he's always been into sports and athletics.
Jeff's sister showed me a credentialing program that would allow me to work as a full-time teacher and be paid for that work while I earn it, which is exactly the sort of thing I'm interested in doing. I've resisted getting a credential this long because university credentialing programs in California all require a year of unpaid "student teaching" which I see as the worst kind of racket. You go into debt because you're working full time (unpaid) and you have to live on student loans--it's terrible. I can't think of a quicker way to get burnt out. But this is a legitimate program--basically I'd get a job teaching in a low income neighborhood, take credentialling classes on the weekend, and in two years I'd have an official credential, the same as if I'd done a university program. The downside is that the program only exists in three locations. In one, I'd likely be teaching in a school in Oakland, and in another in Richmond (it's in the northern Bay Area). Both are notorious ghettos with very bad crime and gang violence. The third is in Sacramento, and definitely the most attractive of the three, but this is the least attractive place for Sean's music program options, since Sac State's program is the longest. So we're going to have to consider everything carefully. The program is called Project Pipeline and has information sessions, so I'm going to go to one of those as soon as I can.
In the meantime this year I plan to register as a substitute teacher at the schools here in Shasta. That should be interesting. I'm hoping I'll get some longer term work, if one of their teachers has to take a leave or something, so I don't have to deal with doing one day here and there. I figure all the typical pranking mostly happens to short term subs. But we'll see. I've got a pretty good handle on discipline so it should be okay either way.
As for the tutoring center, I've put the idea on hold. I like the idea but it intimidates me. I'd like to do it perhaps once Sean and I have settled in a place and also perhaps if I can get to know some people who would got into it with me in some capacity. If I do Project Pipeline and get a good career going as a high school teacher in a place like Sacramento, maybe a few years down the line I'll know enough about the area and all to be able to seriously consider the tutoring center.
I've put in my two weeks notice at the gift shop where I've been working. I originally wanted to work there for the entire time we'd be here. Unfortunately, some of the people I work with, notably the owner and her daughter, have created some unpleasantness which is a real disappointment. I wish people could just be mature and profession in work environments but I guess that's just not possible for some, unfortunately. Why the owner thinks it's a good idea for her 19-yr-old daughter to be a supervisor is beyond me, as well as one of the florists who is a total flake, but apparently she likes to put people in charge who she has a personal relationship with, rather than people who actually know what they are doing. With the school years starting and my financial aid check getting here, I've decided I'd rather rely on that and the subbing jobs than a $7/hr job where I'm ordered off one job to do another constantly and blamed for problems created by other people. It's a pity because it started out as such a fun place to work.
Sean will continue to work at the gym where he's been for most of the summer. He likes it there most of the time and he's happy that he gets a free membership out of it. I will also get a discount once I sign up (when the financial aid gets here) and so I'm looking forward to taking some yoga classes and going in to work out with him.
And I'll probably also sign up for a class or two at the cc. I'm hoping I'll be able to get into a creative writing class, and then there's a choral class I may take with Sean. And maybe Tai Chi, maybe yoga, depending on what I'll do at the gym, etc.
So today really feels like the first day of the rest of my life.
It helps that we're almost of of this financial wasteland we're been hiking through since May.
Sean's getting on with the next phase of his life, too. This semester he's taking a bunch of music classes at the local community college and writing his thesis. I'm also going to try to finish my thesis this semester... it may take until the end of spring semester, we'll see. Either way by the end of this school year I should finish my MA.
After that, in fall 2007, Sean is going to enroll in a second bachelors in music. He's hoping the cc classes will help get him really well prepared for that so he can shave off some of the beginning classes and get through a little quicker. Many places have it set up so that even though he doesn't have to do any general ed classes he's still stuck doing four or more years, because of their prerequisites and required classes. He plans to get a teaching credential in music. The nice thing is once he has that credential he just has to take a test to add on another, so he will probably add on a math or English credential so he'll be more marketable. He's also interested in doing a PE credential--he's always been into sports and athletics.
Jeff's sister showed me a credentialing program that would allow me to work as a full-time teacher and be paid for that work while I earn it, which is exactly the sort of thing I'm interested in doing. I've resisted getting a credential this long because university credentialing programs in California all require a year of unpaid "student teaching" which I see as the worst kind of racket. You go into debt because you're working full time (unpaid) and you have to live on student loans--it's terrible. I can't think of a quicker way to get burnt out. But this is a legitimate program--basically I'd get a job teaching in a low income neighborhood, take credentialling classes on the weekend, and in two years I'd have an official credential, the same as if I'd done a university program. The downside is that the program only exists in three locations. In one, I'd likely be teaching in a school in Oakland, and in another in Richmond (it's in the northern Bay Area). Both are notorious ghettos with very bad crime and gang violence. The third is in Sacramento, and definitely the most attractive of the three, but this is the least attractive place for Sean's music program options, since Sac State's program is the longest. So we're going to have to consider everything carefully. The program is called Project Pipeline and has information sessions, so I'm going to go to one of those as soon as I can.
In the meantime this year I plan to register as a substitute teacher at the schools here in Shasta. That should be interesting. I'm hoping I'll get some longer term work, if one of their teachers has to take a leave or something, so I don't have to deal with doing one day here and there. I figure all the typical pranking mostly happens to short term subs. But we'll see. I've got a pretty good handle on discipline so it should be okay either way.
As for the tutoring center, I've put the idea on hold. I like the idea but it intimidates me. I'd like to do it perhaps once Sean and I have settled in a place and also perhaps if I can get to know some people who would got into it with me in some capacity. If I do Project Pipeline and get a good career going as a high school teacher in a place like Sacramento, maybe a few years down the line I'll know enough about the area and all to be able to seriously consider the tutoring center.
I've put in my two weeks notice at the gift shop where I've been working. I originally wanted to work there for the entire time we'd be here. Unfortunately, some of the people I work with, notably the owner and her daughter, have created some unpleasantness which is a real disappointment. I wish people could just be mature and profession in work environments but I guess that's just not possible for some, unfortunately. Why the owner thinks it's a good idea for her 19-yr-old daughter to be a supervisor is beyond me, as well as one of the florists who is a total flake, but apparently she likes to put people in charge who she has a personal relationship with, rather than people who actually know what they are doing. With the school years starting and my financial aid check getting here, I've decided I'd rather rely on that and the subbing jobs than a $7/hr job where I'm ordered off one job to do another constantly and blamed for problems created by other people. It's a pity because it started out as such a fun place to work.
Sean will continue to work at the gym where he's been for most of the summer. He likes it there most of the time and he's happy that he gets a free membership out of it. I will also get a discount once I sign up (when the financial aid gets here) and so I'm looking forward to taking some yoga classes and going in to work out with him.
And I'll probably also sign up for a class or two at the cc. I'm hoping I'll be able to get into a creative writing class, and then there's a choral class I may take with Sean. And maybe Tai Chi, maybe yoga, depending on what I'll do at the gym, etc.
Sunday, August 13, 2006
visitors
We have Sean's sister and her husband up from Sacramento for the weekend. They are nice people, and it's been a good time. I wonder, though, if I am a bit standoffish... I don't mean to be but once I've exhausted topics of conversation... eh. ::shrug::
The main thing is Sean has been having a great time, and I love seeing him enjoying himself. He and his bro-in-law took a long hike he's been wanting to do today. I was a bit leary--sometimes the trails around here are sketchy and I don't enjoy risk-taking. But they said it was fine so I'll probably go with Sean one of these days. Possibly tomorrow before they leave.
It's been heavenly, being up here for the summer--swimming in Castle Lake, or in the various streams that course by in secluded locations. Sean and I go skinny dipping most of the time, and there's nobody around at all, just us and the dog. She has the best time; she doesn't really understand water... she tries to bite it and she splashes around in the shallows.
I'm really grateful we've taken the time to go find these spots and make the most of them. When I think about how much my life has changed, I can't get over it. Three years ago skinny dipping in an icy river in Mount Shasta would have been unimaginable for me. I was trapped in my marriage, trapped in San Diego...
I feeling like my soul is slowly healing. I don't think it will be without scars, but I feel more and more ready to take on new challenges, like adopting a child. I hope Sean will feel ready some time in the next couple of years.
The main thing is Sean has been having a great time, and I love seeing him enjoying himself. He and his bro-in-law took a long hike he's been wanting to do today. I was a bit leary--sometimes the trails around here are sketchy and I don't enjoy risk-taking. But they said it was fine so I'll probably go with Sean one of these days. Possibly tomorrow before they leave.
It's been heavenly, being up here for the summer--swimming in Castle Lake, or in the various streams that course by in secluded locations. Sean and I go skinny dipping most of the time, and there's nobody around at all, just us and the dog. She has the best time; she doesn't really understand water... she tries to bite it and she splashes around in the shallows.
I'm really grateful we've taken the time to go find these spots and make the most of them. When I think about how much my life has changed, I can't get over it. Three years ago skinny dipping in an icy river in Mount Shasta would have been unimaginable for me. I was trapped in my marriage, trapped in San Diego...
I feeling like my soul is slowly healing. I don't think it will be without scars, but I feel more and more ready to take on new challenges, like adopting a child. I hope Sean will feel ready some time in the next couple of years.
Monday, July 17, 2006
ennui
There's an episode of Gilmore Girls, an early one, where Michel gets a case of ennui, which he eventually passes on to Sookie. I think it makes the rounds with most of the characters by the end. It's a sort of listless feeling, a sense of dissatisfaction and depression, but nothing extreme, just unhappiness without a specific trigger... a gray mood.
I do not want to drag around with ennui. And yet, it seems that no matter where I am, or what I'm doing, it creeps into my life. I love Mount Shasta. I love it like I have only ever loved two places before: Paris, and Corsica. I'm happy we have our two kittens. Things are going well with the dog and I think we're both going to do whatever we can to keep her. Sean is even saying he's okay with the idea of adopting a mastiff puppy in the fall, which I'd love to do. My job is fine; I even enjoy it about seventy percent of the time. The main problem is we are so terribly broke, and that gets pretty stressful. But that will get all sorted out in September, when we get our financial aid checks.
In September, I want to register as a substitute teacher and teaching again will be great. Teaching always perks me up.
It's partly living in this house, which is not ours, which is furnished with his mother and step-dad's things, which we can't change to suit us. It's rent free. How can you argue with rent free? But I haven't had a place of my own in over six months.
Which prompted me to tell Sean I wished we could get a place of our own, but of course I was thinking of renting a house in Shasta, one with a fenced year, basically this house just not belonging to his mom. Sean said he's been thinking a lot about going back to San Diego.
It's not a repulsive idea to me. I have a few friends in SD I'd love to see again. And that's what it is for him. His band is there, and he misses them. But I'm not drawn to live in SD anymore. I don't miss it.
I have started to worry that I'm not going to meet anyone here to be good friends with. Plenty of people are interesting and nice and I could see having light-weight friendships with them. But it is so very, very rare for me to find anyone I really click with, and we just don't live in a very populated area... 3,000 people in the town of Mount Shasta, and there are a couple of small towns within 10 miles. I want to live in a beautiful place but I want my kindred spirits with me, not halfway across the globe or even in another state. And there just aren't that many of them running around. I'm hoping maybe if I take a class or two, maybe I'll meet someone. But it's tough because we're only here for a year (if we don't go back to SD in Sept). I think the kinds of people I relate best to are also the kinds who like to travel and move around a lot, which makes staying close a real challenge.
I do not want to drag around with ennui. And yet, it seems that no matter where I am, or what I'm doing, it creeps into my life. I love Mount Shasta. I love it like I have only ever loved two places before: Paris, and Corsica. I'm happy we have our two kittens. Things are going well with the dog and I think we're both going to do whatever we can to keep her. Sean is even saying he's okay with the idea of adopting a mastiff puppy in the fall, which I'd love to do. My job is fine; I even enjoy it about seventy percent of the time. The main problem is we are so terribly broke, and that gets pretty stressful. But that will get all sorted out in September, when we get our financial aid checks.
In September, I want to register as a substitute teacher and teaching again will be great. Teaching always perks me up.
It's partly living in this house, which is not ours, which is furnished with his mother and step-dad's things, which we can't change to suit us. It's rent free. How can you argue with rent free? But I haven't had a place of my own in over six months.
Which prompted me to tell Sean I wished we could get a place of our own, but of course I was thinking of renting a house in Shasta, one with a fenced year, basically this house just not belonging to his mom. Sean said he's been thinking a lot about going back to San Diego.
It's not a repulsive idea to me. I have a few friends in SD I'd love to see again. And that's what it is for him. His band is there, and he misses them. But I'm not drawn to live in SD anymore. I don't miss it.
I have started to worry that I'm not going to meet anyone here to be good friends with. Plenty of people are interesting and nice and I could see having light-weight friendships with them. But it is so very, very rare for me to find anyone I really click with, and we just don't live in a very populated area... 3,000 people in the town of Mount Shasta, and there are a couple of small towns within 10 miles. I want to live in a beautiful place but I want my kindred spirits with me, not halfway across the globe or even in another state. And there just aren't that many of them running around. I'm hoping maybe if I take a class or two, maybe I'll meet someone. But it's tough because we're only here for a year (if we don't go back to SD in Sept). I think the kinds of people I relate best to are also the kinds who like to travel and move around a lot, which makes staying close a real challenge.
Saturday, July 08, 2006
July 4
I had a really lovely July 4. Sean's mother and step-dad came up. Mount Shasta has a 3-day celebration and I wasn't scheduled to work any of it which was really good, since I gather those days were super busy. I get frazzled when it's so busy--you inevitably have three people asking you for three different things and only one of them will be something you can actually help them with. And that's if you've got someone else working the front--by yourself it's a total madhouse.
On the morning of the fourth we went to Sean's mom's church for a pancake breakfast. Then we went into the town center and did the two mile walk, which was pretty amazing, since all along the route people sign up for these little stages and they provide entertainment to the walkers. The first band was made up of what looked to be fifteen year old kids. They were singing death metal. Pretty surreal when the majority of the walkers must have been over 40. They were good, too--the singer was really committed to his performance. There were other heavy metal bands along the way, as well as reggae, folk, classical, and a couple with a drum and a flute who definitely nailed the Revolutionary style.
After the walk we stuck around for the drawing and I did not win the Jeep. I almost did; they did this narowing down thing where they'd eliminate portions of the crowd: "If you are between the ages of 20 and 40, r
aise your hand." "If you live in Mount Shasta keep your hand up." Etc. Only when they actually called the girl's name did I get eliminated. I was so sure I was going to win. Sigh.
Sean's step-dad bbq'ed lunch and then they had to go home after. I don't recall what we did with the afternoon, except that I was lazy and so Sean went out to get groceries for dinner. Then when he got home he presented me with pizza, cherry pie, and local beer! Quite a splurge since we've been counting every penny lately as we try to eek through the summer on our minimum wage incomes. We're talking ramen every other night, lots of beans and rice, lots of oatmeal.
After we polished off the pizza we walked to the lake and set outselves on the ground, eating cherry pie and drinking beer. We watched the fireworks. It was awesome. So amazing to be lying on a blanket with Sean watching this light show, sparkling golden and green jewels falling in the sky; the explosions echoing through the mountains; the finale with so many red, blue, purple, and dozens of other colors popping that each one lit the patterns of the smoke left by the last ones. I haven't had a 4th like that since I was a kid.
On the morning of the fourth we went to Sean's mom's church for a pancake breakfast. Then we went into the town center and did the two mile walk, which was pretty amazing, since all along the route people sign up for these little stages and they provide entertainment to the walkers. The first band was made up of what looked to be fifteen year old kids. They were singing death metal. Pretty surreal when the majority of the walkers must have been over 40. They were good, too--the singer was really committed to his performance. There were other heavy metal bands along the way, as well as reggae, folk, classical, and a couple with a drum and a flute who definitely nailed the Revolutionary style.
After the walk we stuck around for the drawing and I did not win the Jeep. I almost did; they did this narowing down thing where they'd eliminate portions of the crowd: "If you are between the ages of 20 and 40, r
aise your hand." "If you live in Mount Shasta keep your hand up." Etc. Only when they actually called the girl's name did I get eliminated. I was so sure I was going to win. Sigh.Sean's step-dad bbq'ed lunch and then they had to go home after. I don't recall what we did with the afternoon, except that I was lazy and so Sean went out to get groceries for dinner. Then when he got home he presented me with pizza, cherry pie, and local beer! Quite a splurge since we've been counting every penny lately as we try to eek through the summer on our minimum wage incomes. We're talking ramen every other night, lots of beans and rice, lots of oatmeal.
After we polished off the pizza we walked to the lake and set outselves on the ground, eating cherry pie and drinking beer. We watched the fireworks. It was awesome. So amazing to be lying on a blanket with Sean watching this light show, sparkling golden and green jewels falling in the sky; the explosions echoing through the mountains; the finale with so many red, blue, purple, and dozens of other colors popping that each one lit the patterns of the smoke left by the last ones. I haven't had a 4th like that since I was a kid.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Friday, June 30, 2006
muddied
I think about posting to this blog a lot more often than I actually post, and what I imagine I'll write seems to change by the hour. Lately I swing between euphoria and angst. On the one hand, I love it here, and so many good things have been happening. We are fostering a dog now. She's so great, and it warms my heart to see how she went from this apathetic, depressed creature to being full of joy and personality. On the other hand, I'm getting bored of my job and I'm feeling socially frustrated, as I have yet to meet anyone here that I'm truly interested in hanging out with, and this seems to be leading me down the path that ends in death rushes. I think Astrid was right when she said I get death rushes when I feel unconnected to others. I've decided to try out a church service this Sunday. Maybe it will feel good spiritualliy, or maybe I'll just meet some more people, but either way, I don't expect it will hurt. Maybe this fall I'll enroll in a women's studies class at the local JC; also can't hurt and maybe I'll meet cool people. Maybe the professor?
What I noticed a while back is that participating in a graduate program seems to have ruined me for becoming friends with a lot of people. It's not a superiority thing, I just don't relate very well anymore, and I don't think about things the same way. I'll sit in a room and not contribute to the conversation sometimes because what I would have to say on the topic would never fly... Imagine an alien trying to contribute to a dialogue about Thanksgiving, or Halloween. They may understand it from outside, but they can't relate to people who participate in it. I'm pretty good, actually, at chatting, engaging in small talk, asking questions, interesting myself in what people have to say, so it's not that I've become a social outcast. But on this deeper level I have nothing that hooks in with someone else. You know how you'll meet someone and you have a lot in common with them and you agree about how the world is, and it feels like you've known them forever? I've had that experience but it's getting rarer and rarer. And yet I wouldn't go back; I think I've learned a lot in my 33 years, and the best thing, the thing I wish I could pass on to others, is that when you accept yourself, and no longer try to be someone else, the world changes, and anything is possible. It is glorious. But the words don't tell the essence of what I mean.
What I noticed a while back is that participating in a graduate program seems to have ruined me for becoming friends with a lot of people. It's not a superiority thing, I just don't relate very well anymore, and I don't think about things the same way. I'll sit in a room and not contribute to the conversation sometimes because what I would have to say on the topic would never fly... Imagine an alien trying to contribute to a dialogue about Thanksgiving, or Halloween. They may understand it from outside, but they can't relate to people who participate in it. I'm pretty good, actually, at chatting, engaging in small talk, asking questions, interesting myself in what people have to say, so it's not that I've become a social outcast. But on this deeper level I have nothing that hooks in with someone else. You know how you'll meet someone and you have a lot in common with them and you agree about how the world is, and it feels like you've known them forever? I've had that experience but it's getting rarer and rarer. And yet I wouldn't go back; I think I've learned a lot in my 33 years, and the best thing, the thing I wish I could pass on to others, is that when you accept yourself, and no longer try to be someone else, the world changes, and anything is possible. It is glorious. But the words don't tell the essence of what I mean.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
Survey... consider this my bio page
Autobiography:
-----------------------------------------------
Part 1: Birth
Were you a planned baby?:
As far as I know.
Were you the first?:
First and only.
Were your parents married when you were born?:
Yep.
What is your birth date?:
April 5.
----------------------------------------------
Part 2: The Family
How would you describe your family?:
My French half is large, fairly traditional and conservative, but for the most part everyone is pretty friendly and interesting and I'm proud to introduce them to my friends. My American side is tougher--I loved my grandma, she was a grande dame, but my dad and I have our differences and my step-mother and I... well, we don't see eye-to-eye.
Are your parents married, divorced or separated?:
Divorced and both remarried, but my mother divorced again.
Siblings or an only child?:
Only child growing up--dad has two boys and a girl now.
What are your siblings names?:
Hawley, Hannah Grace, and Hans, pronounced "Hah-ntz." Yes, it's pretentious.
Which parent do you get along with best?:
Definitely my mother, although that relationship has been a bit rough lately. Better now, though.
Do you have step parents?:
Yes... She's still around; I don't have a nickname for her, but my mother's 2nd husband I always refer to as "The Shithead."
------------------------------------------------
Part 3: The Friends
Do you have more than one best friend?:
Well... I don't really use that label much. I do have a couple of very close friends.
Who are your good friends?:
Sean, Astrid, Carmen, Dante, and Sookie. They'd be the top five anyway; I hate for anyone to feel left out. I'm blessed to have many truly wonderful people in my life.
What do you like to do when you are together?:
Sean and I live together; we like to travel together and discuss tv shows and movies. Astrid is this amazing, spiritual, artistic person and she is such an extraordinary listener. She's helped me realize things I never even left myself begin to consider. Carmen is fun and perverse and she loves going out dancing. Dante is into music and theater and he and I used to both work in this teen theater program together. Sookie is a fellow grad student; she and I dish and she's also this super amazing baker.
Do you share the same interests?:
Different friends share different interests with me.
Which friend can you tell anything to?:
Pretty much Sean or Astrid, although I tell a lot to Dante too.
-----------------------------------------------------
Part 4: Personality
How high/low is your self esteem?:
Generally high. I have my dark moments, though.
Do you get depressed about things easily?:
Well, I'm on Paxil because I have panic disorder, OCD, and I suffer from boughts on major depression. As long as I take my meds, I'm fine though.
Are you happy?:
Actually, I really am. I like my job, I love Mount Shasta, and I'm living in a relationship that is better than anything I thought would ever be possible.
Do you live life to the fullest?:
More and more each day.
-------------------------------------------------
Part 5: Appearance
Are you comfortable with the way you look?:
Mostly. If I magically woke up to find I'd switched bodies with an Olympic gymnast, I don't think the first thing I'd do was burst into tears, however.
How do you dress?:
Comfortably. Often bright colors.
Do you have any piercings besides your ears?:
Nope.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 6: The Past
Were you a strange child?:
Well, my dad tells this story about a time when he got the creeps in my godmother's house thinking about ghosts, and then I sat up in bed unprovoked and said, "Daddy, it doesn't do any good to be afraid of ghosts." So, I guess I had my moments.
What did you use to love that you no longer do?:
Write fiction... I keep trying to bring myself back to it.
Play Barbie--now I have The Sims 2.
Horseback ride. I want to do that again someday soon.
Do you have the same friends?:
No, I've pretty much lost touch with everyone but one high school friend, and I don't see her or email withher much at all.
Was there anything in your past that was traumatizing?:
Yeah... my parents's divorce, the surgeries I went through from the age of 12 to 16 that involved a lot of suffering, a terrible argument with my father, and my own divorce.
------------------------------------------------------
Part 7: The Future
What is your ambition?:
To fully embrace who I am and no longer waste a moment of time trying to be what others want or expect... to be a teacher... to develop my art... to knit a sweater for Sean...
Are you scared of growing old?:
I am afraid of dying. I look forward to turning 50 so I can join the Red Hat Society, though.
Do you want to get married?:
No, not really. I adore Sean, but I think marriage isn't for me.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 8: The Outdoors
Do you prefer indoors or outdoors?:
Generally indoors, although I have fun outside too.
What is your favorite season?:
Probably spring.
Favorite weather?:
Warm, not hot, with sun and blue sky.
Do you like walking in the rain?:
As long as I am not wearing my glasses that day.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 9: Food
Are you a vegetarian?:
Used to be. Prosciutto broke my will.
What is your favorite food?:
Sushi.
What food makes you want to gag?:
Actually I'm allergic to pumpkin, sweet potatoes, and yams... they give me migraines which do lead me to gagging...
What is your favorite dessert?:
Boston Cream Pie with berries.
What is your favorite restaurant?:
Don't have one.
Are you a fussy eater?
No, I'm really not.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 10: Love
Do you think love is the best feeling in the world?:
I don't know; love kind of aches.
Do you believe in love at first sight?:
Not really, although I think you can really resonate with someone after only being around them for a very little while.
-----------------------------------------------
Part 1: Birth
Were you a planned baby?:
As far as I know.
Were you the first?:
First and only.
Were your parents married when you were born?:
Yep.
What is your birth date?:
April 5.
----------------------------------------------
Part 2: The Family
How would you describe your family?:
My French half is large, fairly traditional and conservative, but for the most part everyone is pretty friendly and interesting and I'm proud to introduce them to my friends. My American side is tougher--I loved my grandma, she was a grande dame, but my dad and I have our differences and my step-mother and I... well, we don't see eye-to-eye.
Are your parents married, divorced or separated?:
Divorced and both remarried, but my mother divorced again.
Siblings or an only child?:
Only child growing up--dad has two boys and a girl now.
What are your siblings names?:
Hawley, Hannah Grace, and Hans, pronounced "Hah-ntz." Yes, it's pretentious.
Which parent do you get along with best?:
Definitely my mother, although that relationship has been a bit rough lately. Better now, though.
Do you have step parents?:
Yes... She's still around; I don't have a nickname for her, but my mother's 2nd husband I always refer to as "The Shithead."
------------------------------------------------
Part 3: The Friends
Do you have more than one best friend?:
Well... I don't really use that label much. I do have a couple of very close friends.
Who are your good friends?:
Sean, Astrid, Carmen, Dante, and Sookie. They'd be the top five anyway; I hate for anyone to feel left out. I'm blessed to have many truly wonderful people in my life.
What do you like to do when you are together?:
Sean and I live together; we like to travel together and discuss tv shows and movies. Astrid is this amazing, spiritual, artistic person and she is such an extraordinary listener. She's helped me realize things I never even left myself begin to consider. Carmen is fun and perverse and she loves going out dancing. Dante is into music and theater and he and I used to both work in this teen theater program together. Sookie is a fellow grad student; she and I dish and she's also this super amazing baker.
Do you share the same interests?:
Different friends share different interests with me.
Which friend can you tell anything to?:
Pretty much Sean or Astrid, although I tell a lot to Dante too.
-----------------------------------------------------
Part 4: Personality
How high/low is your self esteem?:
Generally high. I have my dark moments, though.
Do you get depressed about things easily?:
Well, I'm on Paxil because I have panic disorder, OCD, and I suffer from boughts on major depression. As long as I take my meds, I'm fine though.
Are you happy?:
Actually, I really am. I like my job, I love Mount Shasta, and I'm living in a relationship that is better than anything I thought would ever be possible.
Do you live life to the fullest?:
More and more each day.
-------------------------------------------------
Part 5: Appearance
Are you comfortable with the way you look?:
Mostly. If I magically woke up to find I'd switched bodies with an Olympic gymnast, I don't think the first thing I'd do was burst into tears, however.
How do you dress?:
Comfortably. Often bright colors.
Do you have any piercings besides your ears?:
Nope.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 6: The Past
Were you a strange child?:
Well, my dad tells this story about a time when he got the creeps in my godmother's house thinking about ghosts, and then I sat up in bed unprovoked and said, "Daddy, it doesn't do any good to be afraid of ghosts." So, I guess I had my moments.
What did you use to love that you no longer do?:
Write fiction... I keep trying to bring myself back to it.
Play Barbie--now I have The Sims 2.
Horseback ride. I want to do that again someday soon.
Do you have the same friends?:
No, I've pretty much lost touch with everyone but one high school friend, and I don't see her or email withher much at all.
Was there anything in your past that was traumatizing?:
Yeah... my parents's divorce, the surgeries I went through from the age of 12 to 16 that involved a lot of suffering, a terrible argument with my father, and my own divorce.
------------------------------------------------------
Part 7: The Future
What is your ambition?:
To fully embrace who I am and no longer waste a moment of time trying to be what others want or expect... to be a teacher... to develop my art... to knit a sweater for Sean...
Are you scared of growing old?:
I am afraid of dying. I look forward to turning 50 so I can join the Red Hat Society, though.
Do you want to get married?:
No, not really. I adore Sean, but I think marriage isn't for me.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 8: The Outdoors
Do you prefer indoors or outdoors?:
Generally indoors, although I have fun outside too.
What is your favorite season?:
Probably spring.
Favorite weather?:
Warm, not hot, with sun and blue sky.
Do you like walking in the rain?:
As long as I am not wearing my glasses that day.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 9: Food
Are you a vegetarian?:
Used to be. Prosciutto broke my will.
What is your favorite food?:
Sushi.
What food makes you want to gag?:
Actually I'm allergic to pumpkin, sweet potatoes, and yams... they give me migraines which do lead me to gagging...
What is your favorite dessert?:
Boston Cream Pie with berries.
What is your favorite restaurant?:
Don't have one.
Are you a fussy eater?
No, I'm really not.
---------------------------------------------------
Part 10: Love
Do you think love is the best feeling in the world?:
I don't know; love kind of aches.
Do you believe in love at first sight?:
Not really, although I think you can really resonate with someone after only being around them for a very little while.
Saturday, June 17, 2006
New blog
I'm trying it again. My blog of five plus years imploded when diary-x had its catastrophic meltdown. Had I backed my posts up, as recommended? Of course not.
I'm living in Mount Shasta for the summer. The photo doesn't do it justice; it's such a beautiful place. I can't touch it with prose. I feel like this is it, the place I want to settle in. The first place in such a long, long time, that I feel happy, lucky to live in.
Naturally, the plan to stay at Sean's mother's cabin for the year is under threat. There never seems to be the same difficulty in staying somewhere I don't particularly want to be. However, that's sour grapes talking. The way things are going I feel pretty sure we'll make it through the summer (oh, please, please, don't let things between Sean and his mother get worse) and then when we get our financial aid checks, we'll move out into some rental around here. The prices are not bad (shhhh).
I don't blame him for being upset and wanting to move out as soon as we can. She's being unreasonable. She has become convinced that he's a bum. Which means she has lost sight of who he is. Sean is not lazy, and I know of what I speak. She doesn't understand his choice to pursue a life in academe. My family doesn't get my choice either, but they are not as obnoxious about it. Mainly because Dad and I had a terrible falling out years ago and my mother doesn't want to seem like she's in any way like him, and then her side of the family sees me as this heroic martyr because I supported my ex for so long. So mainly they just "worry" and occassionally let me know that they are "worrying." You know, I'm convinced that when someone says, "I worry about you," it's actually just a blatant push in the direction they want you to take. "I worry about you, so do something about it so I can stop." Because worrying sucks, and if you care about someone, you don't want to add suckiness to their life. But the fact is, each person gets to choose what to worry about. They can decide to stop worrying. No one is responsible for making them stop but them.
I happen to be aware of the risks I'm taking, and the consequences, both positive and negative, that may arise. I spent far too long allowing fear to cage me. I am okay with making mistakes. I have faith in my ability to recover from them. So it would be nice if everyone else would get on board.
But it seems like a lot of family members are more concerned about my biological clock and my financial investments than I am. It's true, being a graduate student means prolonged poverty and putting off pregnancy. Nobody wants to hear that I may not want biological children. I go back and forth about this, but even if I do, I can't see more than one. Maybe two. Maybe. But what I'd like to do is adopt, maybe do foster care. And, at the moment, I don't particularly want kids at all. (I'm currently totally into the idea of fostering a dog for the local Humane Society.) I work in a gift/candy store in town and we get kids in, and the only reason I'm a little softer on this point than I would have been had I written this post yesterday, is that there was a boy in today, probably 10 yrs old, who I thought was pretty cool. Otherwise my contact lately with persons 7 to 12 has made me want to run screaming in the other direction. As Sean put it, under 7 I find they are still cute, and over 12 I find them interesting; I think in both cases because they have a certain vulnerability and I want to build them up. The kids I've been meeting between the two ages seem so very full of themselves--such know-it-alls. I suspect (don't tell anyone) that I was just like that at their age--and I can't stand the thought of my own arrogance. Please save me from smart, confident children.
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