Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Luna Rescinds
Home from work, I unlock and yank the sliding door open. Luna leans herself backwards while stretching her little nose forward, keeping her distance as she carefully gauges the outside temperature.
Little stinker. I woke up at 4am today to her bright eyes glowing in the dark. She rested her chin on the edge and poked me with that cold nose of hers’ as she squeaked her need to go potty.
I never turn down a potty request. No matter the hour, the conditions. Sets a bad precedence.
But I have also never been in the possession of a creature who may decide to rescind the request.
Seriously.
Anyway, this morning, she had sounded a bit desperate and I had fallen out of bed in my hurry to keep up with her scrambling feet...
Hard floors, speed and Luna makes for entertainment. Even at that hour I chuckled as she mis-judged and slid sideways into the couch. There are rugs all over the place to help her out but I think she avoids them on purpose... Because of her ‘sure footedness’, I beat her to the door.
As I opened it, I let in a blast of wet cold air and about a foot behind me, she stopped short as if she had run into a concrete wall. Dismay erupted from her vocal throat and she collapsed as if hit on the head with a coconut.
I stood there, half a sleep and befuddled... two seconds past... ten... "Luna!" I hissed, "Do you have to go potty!?"
"EEEEE...errrrgeeeee!" (translation: Yes!), her little self-replied and dramatically, she fell over on her side, her despair and conflict clearly apparent
"LUNA!" I whispered and shivered, "Go outside and go potty!!!!!"
"GggggggEEEEEEEAAAAAAuuuuuaaaaa!!!!" She answered, rolling over, paws flaying.
Really??
I made a move to grab and chuck her outside - when CHARLIE darted past both of us to make his escape. Tripping over the blur of his torpedo, I missed that diminutive little Luna who then danced away to the safety of the stairs.
............siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh.................
Oh for crying out loud.
Literally.
Charlie, within moments, realized the conditions of the great wild world he ‘belongs’ in… and began to ‘sing’ to me that he now needed a rescue.
The tune goes like this, “mmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMEEEAAAAOOOOOoooowwwwwwwwww!!!”
Unfortunately, due to the velocity of his departure, he was already under the stairs…. My shivering starts my giggling because Reader? I was wearing a t-shirt. Granted a long t-shirt but no shoes, no pants, “CHARLIE!” My loudest whisper yet, “C’mere!!!”
Gets better.
Luna and Charlie are forever in a ‘I will one up you’ game. Since Charlie is outside, as his song announced to her, clearly Luna now thought she should be outside too.
I am not the brightest star in the sky as it is. And at this hour, I certainly was not lit up enough to remember their ongoing competition and before I know it, out Luna goes too!
Which is what I had wanted… sort of…
Luna is so happy to see Charlie! Obviously, he went outside to play with her. Under the porch there is a scuffle of fur and cat/ dog speak when, in trying to avoid her ‘kisses’, he dashes out from the porch, across the lawn, through deep wet snow and then they both disappear into the dark.
I do the mature thing. I close the door to the rain and I go to the potty.
Returning, I consider leaving them both out for a bit. Scowling at the blurry clock over the stove (no contacts), I consider the current time (4:25am). My alarm does go off at 5:45am…
Fortunately, for both of them, my opinion of their survival possibilities outweighs my aggravation.
I open the door.
In bursts Luna. She shivers violently as I dry her off with her towel (It is kept nearby this time of year). As soon as I pull her sweater over her head, she tears off and up the stairs to go back to bed.
Nerd.
Where is the other one?
“Charlie!!!?” He is no where to be seen. I squint into the rain….nope. No where.
Toast. Burnt toast.
Resigned, I turn to go get my boots from the laundry room, leaving the door open. As I stoop to pull them on he magically appears sitting next to me.
Soaked to the bone, eyes and ears flattened, he does not shiver… he is too outraged. Considering the blazing fury in his eyes, I think maybe he thinks I made it rain....
I pick him up with a different towel, no need to hurt his feelings more with an already dampened one, and sit on the couch to cuddle and dry my little monster. He isn’t exactly a young cat anymore and he accepts my attentions with an attitude of indulgence. When he is completely dry, I drop him on his bed.
Sitting on the couch again, opposite of him, I watch the sleet turn to snow and grin. Since my alarm goes off soon-ish, I have a stolen extra twenty minutes to do what ever I want to do and I hurry off to get my pens and paper out.
PS Luna's first snow (11/2015) This was the video I took after a lot of treats and coaxing
Little stinker. I woke up at 4am today to her bright eyes glowing in the dark. She rested her chin on the edge and poked me with that cold nose of hers’ as she squeaked her need to go potty.
I never turn down a potty request. No matter the hour, the conditions. Sets a bad precedence.
But I have also never been in the possession of a creature who may decide to rescind the request.
Seriously.
Anyway, this morning, she had sounded a bit desperate and I had fallen out of bed in my hurry to keep up with her scrambling feet...
Hard floors, speed and Luna makes for entertainment. Even at that hour I chuckled as she mis-judged and slid sideways into the couch. There are rugs all over the place to help her out but I think she avoids them on purpose... Because of her ‘sure footedness’, I beat her to the door.
As I opened it, I let in a blast of wet cold air and about a foot behind me, she stopped short as if she had run into a concrete wall. Dismay erupted from her vocal throat and she collapsed as if hit on the head with a coconut.
I stood there, half a sleep and befuddled... two seconds past... ten... "Luna!" I hissed, "Do you have to go potty!?"
"EEEEE...errrrgeeeee!" (translation: Yes!), her little self-replied and dramatically, she fell over on her side, her despair and conflict clearly apparent
"LUNA!" I whispered and shivered, "Go outside and go potty!!!!!"
"GggggggEEEEEEEAAAAAAuuuuuaaaaa!!!!" She answered, rolling over, paws flaying.
Really??
I made a move to grab and chuck her outside - when CHARLIE darted past both of us to make his escape. Tripping over the blur of his torpedo, I missed that diminutive little Luna who then danced away to the safety of the stairs.
............siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiggggggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh.................
Oh for crying out loud.
Literally.
Charlie, within moments, realized the conditions of the great wild world he ‘belongs’ in… and began to ‘sing’ to me that he now needed a rescue.
The tune goes like this, “mmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMMMEEEAAAAOOOOOoooowwwwwwwwww!!!”
Unfortunately, due to the velocity of his departure, he was already under the stairs…. My shivering starts my giggling because Reader? I was wearing a t-shirt. Granted a long t-shirt but no shoes, no pants, “CHARLIE!” My loudest whisper yet, “C’mere!!!”
Gets better.
Luna and Charlie are forever in a ‘I will one up you’ game. Since Charlie is outside, as his song announced to her, clearly Luna now thought she should be outside too.
I am not the brightest star in the sky as it is. And at this hour, I certainly was not lit up enough to remember their ongoing competition and before I know it, out Luna goes too!
Which is what I had wanted… sort of…
Luna is so happy to see Charlie! Obviously, he went outside to play with her. Under the porch there is a scuffle of fur and cat/ dog speak when, in trying to avoid her ‘kisses’, he dashes out from the porch, across the lawn, through deep wet snow and then they both disappear into the dark.
I do the mature thing. I close the door to the rain and I go to the potty.
Returning, I consider leaving them both out for a bit. Scowling at the blurry clock over the stove (no contacts), I consider the current time (4:25am). My alarm does go off at 5:45am…
Fortunately, for both of them, my opinion of their survival possibilities outweighs my aggravation.
I open the door.
In bursts Luna. She shivers violently as I dry her off with her towel (It is kept nearby this time of year). As soon as I pull her sweater over her head, she tears off and up the stairs to go back to bed.
Nerd.
Where is the other one?
“Charlie!!!?” He is no where to be seen. I squint into the rain….nope. No where.
Toast. Burnt toast.
Resigned, I turn to go get my boots from the laundry room, leaving the door open. As I stoop to pull them on he magically appears sitting next to me.
Soaked to the bone, eyes and ears flattened, he does not shiver… he is too outraged. Considering the blazing fury in his eyes, I think maybe he thinks I made it rain....
I pick him up with a different towel, no need to hurt his feelings more with an already dampened one, and sit on the couch to cuddle and dry my little monster. He isn’t exactly a young cat anymore and he accepts my attentions with an attitude of indulgence. When he is completely dry, I drop him on his bed.
Sitting on the couch again, opposite of him, I watch the sleet turn to snow and grin. Since my alarm goes off soon-ish, I have a stolen extra twenty minutes to do what ever I want to do and I hurry off to get my pens and paper out.
PS Luna's first snow (11/2015) This was the video I took after a lot of treats and coaxing
Friday, December 18, 2015
Thursday, December 17, 2015
In search of Wonder
The moment we are born we are enraptured, blinking blearily at the wonder of light and sound and color. The touch of cold startles you into your first cry, the first protest. Then as you are swaddled into a cuddle; your first encounter of warm of human comfort brings you your first relief.
I dreamed I held you.
I dreamed he held you, the person I treasure above all. I watched both of you in wonder and I cried and I laughed. I am a woman after all, and my emotions fall as rain falls from heavy clouds.
After all, isn’t that what all of this is for?
Our search for wonder, our quest for magic. The journey to enchantments. Sitting on this train of life, as each moment flickers past … I stand here, my hand on my sun lit window and smile at the statue before me.
I woke up, startled by my alarm. Smiling at my silliness, I reached out to softly touch my man’s sleeping shoulder, willing the light in my fingers into his soul.
And then I turned over and found my friend with floppy ears and glinting eyes asking if I was all right and kissing the inane moisture in my eyes. In answer, I kissed her little face.
I dreamed I held you.
I dreamed he held you, the person I treasure above all. I watched both of you in wonder and I cried and I laughed. I am a woman after all, and my emotions fall as rain falls from heavy clouds.
After all, isn’t that what all of this is for?
Our search for wonder, our quest for magic. The journey to enchantments. Sitting on this train of life, as each moment flickers past … I stand here, my hand on my sun lit window and smile at the statue before me.
I woke up, startled by my alarm. Smiling at my silliness, I reached out to softly touch my man’s sleeping shoulder, willing the light in my fingers into his soul.
And then I turned over and found my friend with floppy ears and glinting eyes asking if I was all right and kissing the inane moisture in my eyes. In answer, I kissed her little face.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
The Three Dreams
I miss Jared terribly.
That just gave me my best grin so far today.
I haven't seen Jared in years.
During a tumultuously time in my early twenties, my Grandmother made and sent me an elf. I bought an appropriately sized chair, messily painted it with colors that didn't match and gave him a palm sized teddy bear (also made by my maternal grandparent) to hold. I named my elf Jared.
My Grandma knew why, of course and approved. Today Jared sits upstairs in the office/ art/ imagination land room.
It has been a decent consolation for the old friendship.
Jared was there for The Three Dreams that are the waypoints for my life. This set of coordinates anchors me to myself. If you ever heard an asterisk in a conversation, where it sounds like I wandered off a little, it is because I am looking up a footnote reference to these Three Dreams.
As a child, Jared, my imaginary friend, met me the moment I drifted away to sleep. In the land of my imagination I investigated and discovered treasures, dove with dolphins, conquered worlds, flew in clouds and danced with trees; always with my tolerant friend in tow.
As my dreams have always morphed into metaphors, I relied on my friend to help me understand.
I was very young when I had The First Dream about a statue on the mountain. This dream may have only come this one time but I think about it often. Just as I re-read a couple of worn out favorite books, I curl up with this dream, a cup of coffee and re-open my dog-eared copy, flip to certain pages and remember it and the dog. In my Dust and Dog post, I share it exactly as I dreamt it.
Interestingly, to me at least, is the role of the canine before I fell asleep and when I woke up. That creature played as critical a part as the dream and the two are the corner stones of how I see myself, my beliefs and how I see and treat all living things.
The Second Dream began when I was twelve. In the beginning it was about the shape and form of the window and I spent many a night keeping my distance. The walls to the smallish room, behind and beside me, are simple and blank. No doors. At the time, outside of my friend, the room is completely empty. With Jared's encouragement and support, I would approach my window and begin to hear, and then see, what was outside.
As I say Unhappiness and Georgia, this dream has returned many times. I know it so well I could swear the dream is an actual place. It never changes, even as I do.
It is a strange, to hold up my hands and check them for clues. To see my reflection in the glass and know I am not the girl, not the teen, not the young woman but an adult, returning once again. And every time I look to see if Jared is still there and every time he isn't, I swallow the lump in my throat as I stand alone and listen.
Sometimes when I see this dream starting, the flood of my resignation overwhelms me. I have sulked in the back and ignored my window, hoping the dream change and give me something else for the night.
On occasion it does but I know the next night will start with it. And the next. And the next. It will keep re-starting until I go to my window. Many many of my insomnia nights can be attributed to my stubborn refusal to face my window, to listen and look.
I think this dream returns when I need a reminder to be kind, to myself and to you. To accept that sometimes I cannot accept and maybe you cannot either. The hardest part? That neither of us is Wrong or Right. That there are only consequences.
It is such a contradictory thing to try to learn.
The Last Dream came gradually and in pieces. The first piece came when I was fifteen. Another arrived during a black out after being hit by a car. The last part came just after I turned twenty.
Once I had all of The Last Dream, it played out in it's entirety, beginning to end. All of the pieces joined in symphony, cresting as I opened my eyes, looked out of a sliding glass door and locked eyes with a fawn. It never returned.
Most of this dream has already tied into my life (Or perhaps I have tied life into the dream). I consider it a road map and in the end I believe all of it will happen. And since I dream in metaphors, I must be careful to not use it to make choices but instead use it for clues, not facts. But sometimes, something is not a metaphor and I catch my breath in the moment of recognition.
I never wrote the whole dream down. I have shared parts of it, such as the car accident posted here. But most of it I hold closely. I have this superstition that writing things down makes them real. I believe this so strongly that it doesn't matter how rational an argument is against it. If I write it, I will bring it to life.
In the first dream, Jared was my protector, he was a big brother and watcher. In the second, he was my guide and teacher. In the last, Jared was my companion and friend and unable to do anything more, or less, than offer support through presence.
This is laughable and weird but I confess it anyway. I believe Jared is real. And no, I do not worry about defining what ‘real’ means. To define Jared is impossible and unnecessary. You may try to define your own faith by putting it into neat little boxes. Or maybe you are like me and you do not.
Either way, truth is relative. If a person really believes their religion has the monopoly on God, then it doesn't matter that another person really believes their totally different religion has the monopoly. In the end, there is only one way for peace.
We all must accept when another cannot accept and live on.
I hope this confession has given you some vulnerability. We are all a little crazy, a little strange and nearly all of us ask, "Am I the only one who is a little crazy and little strange And am I all alone?".
The answer from The Three Dreams is no you are not and yet in the end, we all are.
That just gave me my best grin so far today.
I haven't seen Jared in years.
During a tumultuously time in my early twenties, my Grandmother made and sent me an elf. I bought an appropriately sized chair, messily painted it with colors that didn't match and gave him a palm sized teddy bear (also made by my maternal grandparent) to hold. I named my elf Jared.
My Grandma knew why, of course and approved. Today Jared sits upstairs in the office/ art/ imagination land room.
It has been a decent consolation for the old friendship.
Jared was there for The Three Dreams that are the waypoints for my life. This set of coordinates anchors me to myself. If you ever heard an asterisk in a conversation, where it sounds like I wandered off a little, it is because I am looking up a footnote reference to these Three Dreams.
As a child, Jared, my imaginary friend, met me the moment I drifted away to sleep. In the land of my imagination I investigated and discovered treasures, dove with dolphins, conquered worlds, flew in clouds and danced with trees; always with my tolerant friend in tow.
As my dreams have always morphed into metaphors, I relied on my friend to help me understand.
I was very young when I had The First Dream about a statue on the mountain. This dream may have only come this one time but I think about it often. Just as I re-read a couple of worn out favorite books, I curl up with this dream, a cup of coffee and re-open my dog-eared copy, flip to certain pages and remember it and the dog. In my Dust and Dog post, I share it exactly as I dreamt it.
Interestingly, to me at least, is the role of the canine before I fell asleep and when I woke up. That creature played as critical a part as the dream and the two are the corner stones of how I see myself, my beliefs and how I see and treat all living things.
The Second Dream began when I was twelve. In the beginning it was about the shape and form of the window and I spent many a night keeping my distance. The walls to the smallish room, behind and beside me, are simple and blank. No doors. At the time, outside of my friend, the room is completely empty. With Jared's encouragement and support, I would approach my window and begin to hear, and then see, what was outside.
As I say Unhappiness and Georgia, this dream has returned many times. I know it so well I could swear the dream is an actual place. It never changes, even as I do.
It is a strange, to hold up my hands and check them for clues. To see my reflection in the glass and know I am not the girl, not the teen, not the young woman but an adult, returning once again. And every time I look to see if Jared is still there and every time he isn't, I swallow the lump in my throat as I stand alone and listen.
Sometimes when I see this dream starting, the flood of my resignation overwhelms me. I have sulked in the back and ignored my window, hoping the dream change and give me something else for the night.
On occasion it does but I know the next night will start with it. And the next. And the next. It will keep re-starting until I go to my window. Many many of my insomnia nights can be attributed to my stubborn refusal to face my window, to listen and look.
I think this dream returns when I need a reminder to be kind, to myself and to you. To accept that sometimes I cannot accept and maybe you cannot either. The hardest part? That neither of us is Wrong or Right. That there are only consequences.
It is such a contradictory thing to try to learn.
The Last Dream came gradually and in pieces. The first piece came when I was fifteen. Another arrived during a black out after being hit by a car. The last part came just after I turned twenty.
Once I had all of The Last Dream, it played out in it's entirety, beginning to end. All of the pieces joined in symphony, cresting as I opened my eyes, looked out of a sliding glass door and locked eyes with a fawn. It never returned.
Most of this dream has already tied into my life (Or perhaps I have tied life into the dream). I consider it a road map and in the end I believe all of it will happen. And since I dream in metaphors, I must be careful to not use it to make choices but instead use it for clues, not facts. But sometimes, something is not a metaphor and I catch my breath in the moment of recognition.
I never wrote the whole dream down. I have shared parts of it, such as the car accident posted here. But most of it I hold closely. I have this superstition that writing things down makes them real. I believe this so strongly that it doesn't matter how rational an argument is against it. If I write it, I will bring it to life.
In the first dream, Jared was my protector, he was a big brother and watcher. In the second, he was my guide and teacher. In the last, Jared was my companion and friend and unable to do anything more, or less, than offer support through presence.
This is laughable and weird but I confess it anyway. I believe Jared is real. And no, I do not worry about defining what ‘real’ means. To define Jared is impossible and unnecessary. You may try to define your own faith by putting it into neat little boxes. Or maybe you are like me and you do not.
Either way, truth is relative. If a person really believes their religion has the monopoly on God, then it doesn't matter that another person really believes their totally different religion has the monopoly. In the end, there is only one way for peace.
We all must accept when another cannot accept and live on.
I hope this confession has given you some vulnerability. We are all a little crazy, a little strange and nearly all of us ask, "Am I the only one who is a little crazy and little strange And am I all alone?".
The answer from The Three Dreams is no you are not and yet in the end, we all are.
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
A Portrait of my Cat
Charlie almost caused both of our deaths this morning.
I was at the counter, filling my three (don't judge) to go coffee mugs with lovely fragrant coffee...mmmm.... coffee to see me through the long journey to my far away place of employment.... happily inhaling as I screwed the last lid on, I turned, He was Right There.
Big gluey eyes stared up and asked "Why??"
I tried to step over at the last split second. Sadly, both coffee and I went flying and I landed on my bum next to him.
He had not moved a hair as I had swung violently about to prevent myself from squashing him.
He eyed me. I glowered at him.
I swear I could hear his inner monologue, "What the hell was that all about? I was just sitting here."
In all fairness, he was likely 'petting' me with his tail to let me know he had taken up silent residency a quarter of an inch behind my unknowing self.
This has long been both my heads up and AM greeting of 'Hey human, Good morning, gimme a hug" ...but as I was wearing a skirt today... I didn't feel it.
Luna arrived to ask 'What is all the noise about?' Her sweet face sleepy (Luna doesn't 'do' mornings, seriously, photo below taken after trying to get her up with a treat as a bribe) and her ears pinned back with her anxious question.
Charlie took this as his cue to run (waddle) to her bowl to steal whatever she may not have finished. He made it about half way before her scrambling toes followed to herd him off of her breakfast.
I got up and cleaned up the perfect coffee now perfectly ruined. As I finished I turned back to see that cat sitting serenely on the counter (where he does not belong -ever).
Luna below before 8am....
I was at the counter, filling my three (don't judge) to go coffee mugs with lovely fragrant coffee...mmmm.... coffee to see me through the long journey to my far away place of employment.... happily inhaling as I screwed the last lid on, I turned, He was Right There.
Big gluey eyes stared up and asked "Why??"
I tried to step over at the last split second. Sadly, both coffee and I went flying and I landed on my bum next to him.
He had not moved a hair as I had swung violently about to prevent myself from squashing him.
He eyed me. I glowered at him.
I swear I could hear his inner monologue, "What the hell was that all about? I was just sitting here."
In all fairness, he was likely 'petting' me with his tail to let me know he had taken up silent residency a quarter of an inch behind my unknowing self.
This has long been both my heads up and AM greeting of 'Hey human, Good morning, gimme a hug" ...but as I was wearing a skirt today... I didn't feel it.
Luna arrived to ask 'What is all the noise about?' Her sweet face sleepy (Luna doesn't 'do' mornings, seriously, photo below taken after trying to get her up with a treat as a bribe) and her ears pinned back with her anxious question.
Charlie took this as his cue to run (waddle) to her bowl to steal whatever she may not have finished. He made it about half way before her scrambling toes followed to herd him off of her breakfast.
I got up and cleaned up the perfect coffee now perfectly ruined. As I finished I turned back to see that cat sitting serenely on the counter (where he does not belong -ever).
Luna below before 8am....
Monday, November 23, 2015
Escalante Magic
God I am bored. Teeth grinding, agitatedly bored. Alt tab, update, compare, repair, update, email, alt tab, repeat. Busy busy maddeningly bored. Dang podcast won’t load, overly played songs bull doze my brain.Oooooo escape silly brain, escape...
At home, at a torturous rate, a painting is being completed. Whenever there is a little minute here, ten there, two here - I found a whole fifteen all together in a row last Thursday…! 
I turn to it for that familiar rush of blood to my hands. “Why do you paint?” a person had asked. I don’t understand that question. I paint because I need to breathe. Don’t you have to breathe?
I close my eyes, hold my breath and transport myself away into imagination. For a second, maybe three seconds, I am not here, under siege by gray walls, monitors, cell phones and a keyboard. I am there. I am there, where color and trees and real things embrace me.
I come back to this present a teeny bit less frantic.
Lord I am mid thirties. Only twenty years of grey cube walls to go.
'Escalante Magic'
12" X 36" X 1.5"
New work in Progress
Tuesday, November 17, 2015
Doodle Art (In progress)
A woman, the feminine, our warms and cools and all of the "in-betweens" that make us up.
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
Worst version
Today is a worst version.
Rational or irrational, truth is relative when based on perception and the curious thing about humans is that of our truths are completely mired in our points of view.
Yesterday I was running late. Which means I sat on the over pass, stuck behind honking cars and watched the sun come up. It’s been a few weeks because of the time change. I forgot to breathe as I witnessed a sky, lit pink lavenders, burst into red, yellow-white and brilliant purple.
And this set the day.
My current place of employment is about fifty percent full of empty cubicles and un-manned very posh office chairs. The remaining occupants engage in a daily florescent war. As I sit around the corner from a window, surrounded by grey walls, the occasional flickering above me reminds me that it is not just AC here with me during the day.
On the occasion I do see people, it is forlorn mix of cautious friendly hellos or avoided eye contact and quick steps. I don’t know the story; I am too new. What I have surmised is I think everyone is afraid of each other. Online town halls are defensive, comments derisive. I didn’t have any illusions with my latest job hop. I finally realized, about four jobs ago, that jobs are miserable. There really isn’t anything to be done about it.
Since I am too busy to leave my desk often, and if I do for too long, the once invisible co-workers will materialize to find me, I engage in self-study for company. I am focusing on Roman history –which needs more movies. Directors would not have to make any material up, not with the all of the craziest triangles, mysteries, betrayals and all out gory wars.
My commutes into and from work is either on the phone with my sister or doing my Pemsler Spanish lessons. I am a slow learner but I have at last made it to unit ten of the fifteen! At work I have found a couple of indie styled Spanish bands I like. They sing slower and I can actually catch a few words.
And this has kept me happy. Sort of. I doodle future paintings on post its. Maybe someday I won't lose fifty hours a week in a grey cube.
Then today happened… I was pretty early to work, to make up time. The light over the mountains was just turning grey as I hurried inside and upstairs. Excel, testing and suddenly it is 10am. Florescent suddenly switches on overhead and I come out of three screens with a feeling of quiet desperation. I set my teeth and turn on music and muscle through til 2pm. This time my reaction is to hurry down the halls to the stairs. My hand is on the door just as someone happens to walk by and comment about a meeting starting in a couple of minutes.
At 3:30pm I Run downstairs, heels clacking (this office is not client facing but everyone dresses up as if it was Goldman). I get outside and stop as if I walked into a wall.
The world is white, the air is clean and I am grateful for yellow leaves peeking out and up at me. Rich orange sways under the unexpected weight of water. Their trunks seem to ask me to wrap my coat around them.
Then I hurry myself into the car, hoping to beat traffic.
Sal was gone a year yesterday and I was ok with that. But now, when I walk into the house and she isn’t here, I dissolve into a five year old and sit it out in the bathroom for a few minutes.
I want to whine to her that my life is commute, silence, screens, florescence, commute, dinner, dishes, screens –repeat. I want to tell her I am a child and the reality is that I had a wonderful weekend. I want to tell her that work is hesitantly nice to me – increasingly, because they cannot be so to each other and more and more, I watch them feel safer. I know I am creating allies.
And does she remember that one break down? I realized on a Wednesday, that I hadn’t seen the sun in a week and I flipped. I quit. We got in the car and I drove to the beach.
Which didn’t work out well. I had to eat crow but that moment was worth it. Ohhhhhh…! The happy naughty delight of being outside in the middle of the week in the middle of the day.
I want her smile to laugh at my tantrum.
I miss my girl, my not-so-silent-confidante and patient listener. She never asked anything more of me then a walk.
I need to do laundry, post some pieces on an art comp, pack lunch for tomorrow… instead I sit here on the back porch, snow falling in my hair and watch my little desert dog discover winter.
Stupid worst version reality day.
Rational or irrational, truth is relative when based on perception and the curious thing about humans is that of our truths are completely mired in our points of view.
Yesterday I was running late. Which means I sat on the over pass, stuck behind honking cars and watched the sun come up. It’s been a few weeks because of the time change. I forgot to breathe as I witnessed a sky, lit pink lavenders, burst into red, yellow-white and brilliant purple.
And this set the day.
My current place of employment is about fifty percent full of empty cubicles and un-manned very posh office chairs. The remaining occupants engage in a daily florescent war. As I sit around the corner from a window, surrounded by grey walls, the occasional flickering above me reminds me that it is not just AC here with me during the day.
On the occasion I do see people, it is forlorn mix of cautious friendly hellos or avoided eye contact and quick steps. I don’t know the story; I am too new. What I have surmised is I think everyone is afraid of each other. Online town halls are defensive, comments derisive. I didn’t have any illusions with my latest job hop. I finally realized, about four jobs ago, that jobs are miserable. There really isn’t anything to be done about it.
Since I am too busy to leave my desk often, and if I do for too long, the once invisible co-workers will materialize to find me, I engage in self-study for company. I am focusing on Roman history –which needs more movies. Directors would not have to make any material up, not with the all of the craziest triangles, mysteries, betrayals and all out gory wars.
My commutes into and from work is either on the phone with my sister or doing my Pemsler Spanish lessons. I am a slow learner but I have at last made it to unit ten of the fifteen! At work I have found a couple of indie styled Spanish bands I like. They sing slower and I can actually catch a few words.
And this has kept me happy. Sort of. I doodle future paintings on post its. Maybe someday I won't lose fifty hours a week in a grey cube.
Then today happened… I was pretty early to work, to make up time. The light over the mountains was just turning grey as I hurried inside and upstairs. Excel, testing and suddenly it is 10am. Florescent suddenly switches on overhead and I come out of three screens with a feeling of quiet desperation. I set my teeth and turn on music and muscle through til 2pm. This time my reaction is to hurry down the halls to the stairs. My hand is on the door just as someone happens to walk by and comment about a meeting starting in a couple of minutes.
At 3:30pm I Run downstairs, heels clacking (this office is not client facing but everyone dresses up as if it was Goldman). I get outside and stop as if I walked into a wall.
The world is white, the air is clean and I am grateful for yellow leaves peeking out and up at me. Rich orange sways under the unexpected weight of water. Their trunks seem to ask me to wrap my coat around them.
Then I hurry myself into the car, hoping to beat traffic.
Sal was gone a year yesterday and I was ok with that. But now, when I walk into the house and she isn’t here, I dissolve into a five year old and sit it out in the bathroom for a few minutes.
I want to whine to her that my life is commute, silence, screens, florescence, commute, dinner, dishes, screens –repeat. I want to tell her I am a child and the reality is that I had a wonderful weekend. I want to tell her that work is hesitantly nice to me – increasingly, because they cannot be so to each other and more and more, I watch them feel safer. I know I am creating allies.
And does she remember that one break down? I realized on a Wednesday, that I hadn’t seen the sun in a week and I flipped. I quit. We got in the car and I drove to the beach.
Which didn’t work out well. I had to eat crow but that moment was worth it. Ohhhhhh…! The happy naughty delight of being outside in the middle of the week in the middle of the day.
I want her smile to laugh at my tantrum.
I miss my girl, my not-so-silent-confidante and patient listener. She never asked anything more of me then a walk.
I need to do laundry, post some pieces on an art comp, pack lunch for tomorrow… instead I sit here on the back porch, snow falling in my hair and watch my little desert dog discover winter.
Stupid worst version reality day.
Tuesday, October 20, 2015
Silly People
Hello Reader,
At the end of the ridge is a bird of prey. A giant graceful predator. It leaves my mouth dry with awe as it dives, hovers and elegantly cores a thermal over my head. I let my hands sit limply in the handles and do not bother to attempt to take any tragically inadequate photos. It isn't worth the precious seconds needed to glance away.
At the end of the ridge is a bird of prey. A giant graceful predator. It leaves my mouth dry with awe as it dives, hovers and elegantly cores a thermal over my head. I let my hands sit limply in the handles and do not bother to attempt to take any tragically inadequate photos. It isn't worth the precious seconds needed to glance away.
Now the sun begins to set and as it does, the mountains respond by turning to gold. There are no words to describe flying in autumn. Every year I am taken off guard and left fumbling for words. I roll them around like marbles in my mouth, feebly trying to show what I see.
Temperatures cool rapidly with the sun's retreat. My open grin has let in the chilly wind and left me with chattering teeth. Sunset really is nearly here and in preparation, I take a lazy glide out to the front but I turn back, like I always do, to look at these silly people dangling about blue skies and laugh at all of us.
What a funny thing it is to be a human.
Sunday, October 4, 2015
Saturday, October 3, 2015
Wednesday, September 30, 2015
Stuck
Every time I move to step forward, I remember the gum stuck to my shoe. It's all melted and eky and full of little bitty rocks and things so I don't want to touch it. I have looked around for a nearby stick or something like a stick to unstick me... but no dice.
And it's not really something I can ask a passing person for assistance with...Putting my clean art brush down, again, I twirl a journal bursting with white blank pages in my hands.
While stuck this last month (plus), for distraction from my immobility, I am watching everyone, everything, including me. I watch it all. My inner six year old loves this game; I re-analyze prior conversations, comparing them to current actions and then making short term predictions.
And then there is my best friend. No matter how many times I think I understand him, I think I have figured him out - I am startled again by his seemingly unshakable and limitless capacity.
Take this example; The ever present expanding elephant. This thing has dominated many aspects of our lives and, in this last year, increasingly intrudes on my time and 'our' time, both of which I am always in short supply of and jealous of sharing. I watch me slowly become resentful. I am tired of talking about it, helping it, feeding it; I am sick of watching over it. Now at three years -for me this is three years- Yes, I still go through the motions, but I offer only short explanations and abrupt replies.... And even though I chide myself and place my tongue literally between my teeth to prevent my inner monologue from verbalizing... I am still thinking impatient thoughts.
Sigh.
But not him. I am watching. How he handles it! Aptly, deftly, thoughtfully and maturely -even when exasperated!
So.... to make up for the inadequacy that is my own maturity level, I did not make healthy, low carb meals. I made him his beloved waffles on Sunday, homemade vanilla blueberry pancakes on Monday and a cheesy alfredo pasta for dinner last night (although I did add broccoli).
Because that is what relationships are all about. Sometimes you are the rock star and sometimes you are the entourage....
In my case, sometimes is often. But that's ok, I have a lifetime back stage pass.
Also if you happen to see a stick nearby, could you kick it over? This paint/ writing/ drawing block has lasted long enough.
And it's not really something I can ask a passing person for assistance with...Putting my clean art brush down, again, I twirl a journal bursting with white blank pages in my hands.
While stuck this last month (plus), for distraction from my immobility, I am watching everyone, everything, including me. I watch it all. My inner six year old loves this game; I re-analyze prior conversations, comparing them to current actions and then making short term predictions.
And then there is my best friend. No matter how many times I think I understand him, I think I have figured him out - I am startled again by his seemingly unshakable and limitless capacity.
Take this example; The ever present expanding elephant. This thing has dominated many aspects of our lives and, in this last year, increasingly intrudes on my time and 'our' time, both of which I am always in short supply of and jealous of sharing. I watch me slowly become resentful. I am tired of talking about it, helping it, feeding it; I am sick of watching over it. Now at three years -for me this is three years- Yes, I still go through the motions, but I offer only short explanations and abrupt replies.... And even though I chide myself and place my tongue literally between my teeth to prevent my inner monologue from verbalizing... I am still thinking impatient thoughts.
Sigh.
But not him. I am watching. How he handles it! Aptly, deftly, thoughtfully and maturely -even when exasperated!
So.... to make up for the inadequacy that is my own maturity level, I did not make healthy, low carb meals. I made him his beloved waffles on Sunday, homemade vanilla blueberry pancakes on Monday and a cheesy alfredo pasta for dinner last night (although I did add broccoli).
Because that is what relationships are all about. Sometimes you are the rock star and sometimes you are the entourage....
In my case, sometimes is often. But that's ok, I have a lifetime back stage pass.
Also if you happen to see a stick nearby, could you kick it over? This paint/ writing/ drawing block has lasted long enough.
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
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