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Musings from the Laundromat – my week in photos

Quail in vacant lot across from my home

Quail in vacant lot across from my home

Road Runner right outside my office

Road Runner right outside my office

 

A winged ant - the last of a long and disturbing three days

A winged ant – the last of a long and disturbing three days

A happy dog - now her toy basket is on the ground

A happy dog – now her toy basket is on the ground

 

Musings from the Laundromat – Super Moon Sunday

There is one advantage to being roused from sleep at various times during the night/early morning – and that is the night sky.

Thanks to Butters, my sleepless manatee, I witnessed this on Friday the 8th.  (Well, considering the ungodly hour, I guess it was technically Saturday the 9th)

I’m surprised at how well they came out considering I was half asleep, and capturing the moon looking like anything more than a blurry dust mote on the lens without a tripod is near impossible for me even when wide awake.

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I did absolutely no editing at all.  It seemed strange to me that the moon was setting so early (3:30 am? It felt like 3:30 am …) But there it is – quickly going from the sky to behind a tree and finally sinking behind the mountain.

Tonight should make for more amazing photos as it is Super Moon Sunday.

What’s  so super about it?  Well, it will be closer to the earth than it’s been in over 20 years.

Throw into the mix the fact that it will appear 30% brighter and 14% bigger too!

Not going to lie, there is a part of me that hopes I miss it due to uninterrupted sleep.   But if I am up, I’ll snap some shots.

 

Deeper

Part I – The truth

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I’ve seen abject poverty, absurd wealth – caste systems – been tugged at by hungry, filthy, beautiful children in India “Baksheesh!”.  My white skin and light hair touched uninvited, brave small hands reaching out to make tangible the encounter.

I’ve climbed onto a wing of a plane and let go.

Lain on a table as a life ended.

Pushed life into the world while apologizing to a room I had screamed for hours in prior.

I’ve loved and lost.

Hated and forgiven.

Held onto innocence as long as I could, the only ways I knew how.

Delved into debauchery to test my limits and punch out at the world.

I am educated – and so ignorant.

I thirst for truth and seek it.  Hunger for good and dissect things until I find it.

(Dissection … a quick tangent here.

It occurs to me that when people tell me to ‘let it go!’ or ‘Just get over it’  the simple fact is that they just don’t want to hear about a current problem or hurt.

For me, I must dissect.  So that when I let go, I let go of all of the parts.

It takes me longer, but in the end I’m rid of, and understand ‘the thing’.)

I ache at injustice.

I have a bad habit of flight in lieu of fight.

I need solitude to really be me – and in that solitude I ache for a partner.  One I can miss.

I’ve been a good mother, an awful mother. A good friend and an awful friend.  A good daughter and an awful daughter.

I’ve self medicated, self mutilated and despised myself.

Lashed out – fed my pain with my own cold served dishes.

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I hit my knees nightly saying ‘thank you’ to a God I don’t believe in.

Spiritual me, with hands clasped – and God forbid I forget, perhaps in a state of fatigue.  My OCD pulls me from bed and I snap out a prayer – offer up sincere thanks and what I mean to be true – then sabotage my blessings almost daily.

I don’t reciprocate the love of my friends demonstrably.

She who used to gift everyone to be in their favor, won’t leave her home anymore to visit the important, unwavering people in her life.  And they still love me.

I hole up in my nest.  Only really feeling safe when I don’t have to make eye contact, or be funny or upbeat.  Where I’m not too thin, not too deep.  Where I’m gloriously, unapologetically me!

What’s left?

I go deeper into myself.  Talking to myself.

Not eloquently – but my thoughts are.  I open my mouth in public and hear myself trying to fit in and failing.

I see patterns in my behavior, faces in my food – beauty in the reprehesible and ugliness in Saints.

I see truth.

Part II – Deeper truth

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I watch the news and cringe at the biased reporting.

I read quotes slapped up on pages and various social media ‘walls’.

I sneer at the generic, pedestrian sentiments of the ‘Hang in there’ cat poster variety.

“Come on!  Catch up!  I’m past that life stage!”

Then end up feeling sanctimonious and rethinking everything I think I know again.

I want to say “You!  You there!  With the prefabricated opinion – have you looked into that?  Do you even know if it’s attributed to the correct author?  This original opinion that you found on the internet?”

“Have you weighed both sides through careful and passionate research?”

But I don’t.

Because then I’m told I think too much.

But should I ever be asked the same question, I hope my answer can always be an authentic ‘yes’.

I’ve written some terrible posts lately – just typed out for the sake of posting something.  I’ve been so uninspired.

Then I watched Nymphomaniac Volumes I & II last night and today.

Lars von Trier inspires me.

(The photos above are stolen screen shots from his movie Antichrist)

Lars von Trier pulls me deeper.

He puts no decorations on his points.  It’s raw.

I don’t have to pretend to ‘get’ him.  Pipe in the corner of my mouth, leather elbowed jacket – discussing the 100 things his movie could mean.  No. None of that.

His cinematography is breathtaking and writing succinct.

I used to love Poe.  I think because of the depressive complex nature of his topics.  I was young.  And full of angst.  I think I also pretended to understand him.

I never understood Shakespeare.  Okay, some of it.  But then I’d get snagged on a sentence – like a blouse on a branch.  The more I tried to pull free, the more entangled I became – the more the sentence could mean.

This reminds me of the joke about the blue curtains.

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In Nymphomaniac, I loved that Joe – while listening to Seligman’s metaphors politely and even contemplating their validity – carried on with what she meant to say.

Nymphomaniac was not erotic for me. I don’t think it is supposed to be.  But then – porn does not arouse me.

I have a very unhealthy view of intimacy – the result of a multitude of inappropriate ‘experiences’ I did not choose to be a part of.

The emotionless rutting makes me sad.  Especially in this movie – her never-ending quest to be filled.  To feel.

Her blank stare as men thrust inside of her on the train.

Carnal, desperate and mechanical.

She tells her life story, unedited, to a man who has taken her in after she has been beaten.

Of all the characters – Seligman the virgin, in my opinion, was the most reprehensible character of all the men.

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And not just because he kept interrupting her story while trying to validate her actions in order to feel better about himself …

I vehemently feel disgust for those who misrepresent themselves.

At least the other men did not hide their intentions.

People who hide their intentions frighten me.

I was very happy with the ending to the movie.

When I was little, and someone I loved very much was being hurt – I fantasized about doing the same thing.

It was always the same fantasy – the person would not be taken by surprise.

They would know it was me – look directly into my eyes and know my intention and that I was going to follow through.

Never for me – but for someone I love – I would kill.

I can know that about myself and I feel less guilty for not leaving my house to visit.

I also know I need to offer what I can to those I care for while there is still time.

I know this.

But I also feel I need to improve what I have to offer.

I’m still dissecting.

I still look in the mirror and don’t understand what others see.  I do not find myself aesthetically pleasing most of the time – and when I do, I feel prideful and vain.

But the most important things that I see when I look in the mirror I am comfortable with.

I meet my own eyes and see someone who is willing to admit all of her faults.

I see someone who is willing to work on them.

I see someone who I would like – someone I would visit and not expect a visit from in return.

I’d probably also post an arbitrary prefabricated quote on her wall and tell her not to take herself so seriously – that we’re all in different stages of our life’s journey, and hers is just one of many.

Knowing she’d dissect it.

 

 

 

Musings from the Laundromat: Friends & Change edition

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I’m musing on my notepad since the internet connection is not connecting at the laundromat.

I was thinking on the way over, of change.

It’s amazing sometimes isn’t it, when we look back over the years, sometimes months or even just days and think ‘If I knew then that things would be so different now …”

Then what?

Nothing, that’s what.

You’d end up changing the outcome by knowing what it was supposed to be.

That whole seeing into the future thing is not a good idea.

If you knew a job wasn’t going to work out – you might quit before learning a valuable skill you needed for later.

If you knew a relationship wasn’t going to end up being your ‘forever after’, you might abandon it before experiencing new emotions, or becoming stronger for having made mistakes.

A song was on the radio in the car and it reminded me of someone.

I think about exes from time to time – then I segue off onto wondering if I ever cross their minds.

I hope I do.

They all meant something to me and always will.

So back to change …

Since the start of the year I have now been in 3 different jobs, gone from not knowing what life would be like without the constant that is my son, to living alone lately.

The thing that hasn’t changed, and rarely does, are the friends I have.

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I was surprised to hear a friend was coming to town that I usually only see once a year, usually Christmas time.  It was literally Christmas in July to get to see her for dinner Sunday night!

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On the heels of ‘friend Sunday’ came ‘inevitable Monday’ and a pretty rough week.

Work is amazing, I love my new position.

The logo I created was delivered and stuck to our freshly painted red wall … I remember the first time I was published and seeing the paper – yeah, it was a little like that.

I’m blurring so much here – but want you to see the logo at least.  I assure you, the wall does not look like a horrid smudge of letters.

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We’re still figuring out procedures and I’m still on a crash course of figuring out how to do what I do. This I have no problem with. I adapt. I learn quickly, that was no lie on my resume.

My forte is creation. Creation, progression and completion.  Love it.

Needless to say though, even a whole day doing your favorite things can be exhausting.

I found myself coming home and sitting on the couch in a hyper-minded/numb-bodied state every evening.

On top of the exhilarating chaos that is the birth of a new company, we had ‘sabotage day’ or ‘Cablegate’ as I am thinking of it now.

Our suite connects to the old company we all worked for. It was sadly closing while we were opening. A very emotional thing to watch.

I get attached to people and routines. After 3 1/2 years, to see the people I care about slowly leaving, while an office that once thrived emptied to nothing but a shell – well, it wasn’t pleasant to say the least.

Our office parties, the holidays we shared, the smell of Thanksgiving turkey, the sounds of laughter – phones ringing, microwaves beeping, deliveries arriving – the hustle and bustle, Gone.

All gone now.

It was down to just the Broker this past week – and a trickling of agents bringing out the last of the items going with them.

One morning I arrived to the news that the keys to the mail box were missing and all the drawers had been left open.

Did I know where they were? No, I did not.

Also the internet was down.

No problem, I told the Broker  he could use our WIFI, I would give him the code.

I finally made it into our suite only to discover that our internet was not working either … nor our phones.

The utility closet that houses the cables and technical ‘things’ is located in the old office.

And it was locked.

And that key shared the key chain that had gone missing.

A locksmith was called out and after summoning the internet technicians out too, the long and short of it is that someone had come in the night and left a final ‘F-you!’ for us.  (Yes, we have a very good idea who it was – no, we have no proof)

Equipment lay on the floor of the closet and various pieces hung from the wall.  Then, discovered hidden in the ceiling, the recently cut wires that connected our suite to the outside world.

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The police were called – locks were changed and a temporary fix was made to attach cables to the frayed ends of the severed ones.

Sabotage.

A lot of talk about karma came up.  I’m of the mind that anyone angry enough or capable of such a crime already has to live with themselves.

We were back up and running and were not going to let that set-back have anymore power (or lack of) over us than it deserved.

______________________________

Friday arrived and I was ready for a relaxing weekend.

I climbed out of my car, came through my gate and opened the front door.

And was greeted by – silence.

Butters was nowhere to be seen – or heard.  And trust me, my hairy manatee is an excitable girl.  She wriggles and whines and leaps at my return.

I had locked the door so she couldn’t be out?

Then slowly, a small noise and as I set my purse down, she limped out of my bedroom.

She hadn’t eaten – hadn’t taken a drink from her water bowl.  Her tail hung between her legs and she moved gingerly.

I dropped to the floor beside her and started an examination – and to my horror, she let me.

I’ll try to describe her exuberance … I can’t get a leash on her in any time under 20 minutes.  Trying to get her to stay still for her collar after a bath is like trying to hold back a herd of children at the Disneyland gates.

And she lay there – letting me probe between her pads for burrs – press her leg to test for warmth or tender spots.

I could see nothing out of the usual.

She then left me to lay in the bathroom.  Not limping.  (Perhaps she had just been laying awkwardly on it before I got home?)  Now she was listless, shivering and unmoving.

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I checked her ears, her eyes, her gums, her stomach …  all the while wondering “What will I do? How will I afford to get her care??”  And telling her – “Don’t you leave me.”

My eyes welled with tears as I reached out to the online community for ideas.

My friend that ‘always knows when to show up’ threw some clothes on and abandoned her Friday night after her own long week, and headed over to be with us.

Butters perked up a little.

“Maybe she’s depressed.” Said my friend.

She had a point.

Life as she had known it had changed too.

From having the run of the yard all day to being shut indoors – and the absence of her boy.  Big changes for a little canine world.

Perhaps she was just depressed.

By the time my friend left, she seemed to have perked up.  I stayed up with her until after 1 a.m. to be sure.

The next morning she was herself again.

Just like that!

I quickly went to the grocery store returning with lots of dog treats – cleaned the house and just as I finished Butters barked at the front door.  (Music to my ears to hear her vocalize by the way.)

In walked my friend holding coffee and polystyrene boxes.

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“I brought brunch.”

We sat across from each other and shared half of each box.  Butters was treated to some bacon.

“My heart is smiling at my stomach right now,” I said.  “This is right up there – top 10 happiest moments.”

And it was.

My dog was okay, my friend had showed up and the food was amazing.

Before she left I added, “You’re her favorite person that comes over.”

“I’m the only person who comes over.”

I had to laugh at that.

Point well made – but things change. Could be in a few months that I don’t even live here anymore.

But I can count on who will walk through my front door.

I can always count on my friends.

And I don’t want to know the future – because I might miss something getting there.

Until next time –

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Strawberries, Scandals and Cloud Punching

 

 

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It’s been a long productive week at the new office.   Punctuated by singing along to awesome songs, random dance breaks and lots of laughter with my bosses.  The new business I’m so fortunate to be a part of  became official last week and my desk is amazing and stocked and I am now the Operations Manager of ‘Company X’.

This is one of the parts of  my life I don’t share here.  No last names, no addresses, no personal identifying information.

Seriously though, if anyone did some minor sleuthing, the gig would be up.

Still, I try to maintain some anonymity for the sake of others more than for myself.

This has been very difficult lately.  I want to burst I’m so full of scandals and hypocrisy that I can’t share.

I mean, I COULD, but then I’d have to live with myself.

This is occurring more and more often by the way.

The live with myself part, not the scandals and hypocrisy.

I’m still without my son.  He’s spending his weeks staying with my mom across the river and his spare time with his first love  who will be leaving the state next month for college.

It has been weird without him.

Okay, I have been weird without him

I’ve taken talking to myself to a whole new level.  I’ll have internal dialogues, then out of no where, verbalize a portion of it.

Example: I’ll be having a conversation with someone in my head (please tell me I’m not the only one  who does this) then say something like “because it’s blue” out loud.

I’m one more week alone away from shopping cart mumbler.

Oh, and I can’t be still.  I’m not reading anymore, not sitting outside listening to music while looking up at the stars – I’m not drawing or painting or taking my camera out on adventures.

I am back in my little hamster wheel of ‘wake up – bathe – dress – tend to animals – exit house – work – return from work – eat something unhealthy – prepare for bed’.

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Here’s me on the couch trying for a serene look – mostly I just liked the light and since the dog now leaves when I start to put my ipad in camera mode (how does she know???) – and since NO ONE else is in my house, I have become my subject.

So fake though.  Which is not how I am.  It’s a snapshot of the shell.  Inside I was still hurting and thinking and not serene at all.

The point is – this past year has left me so spun and undone that I can’t seem to find the energy to do the things I used to enjoy.

I put so much effort and faith into a person and project that I lost a bit of myself.

I put myself on the back burner and looked forward to promises of such an amazing future that I was okay with that.

Of course, gullible me believed what was never to be.

There are two people on my shit list right now.  They need to be very cautious how they proceed because I’m not above doing a public service and sharing what I know and supporting it with evidence.

I would do this in case any other gullible person might have either of them on a pedestal and be naive enough to trust.

Wow.

That just came out of nowhere.

Still, I have not named names.

Just watch it – you both know who you are.  So ‘good’ and selfless in public and so not in reality.

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Let’s talk about sandwiches for a moment.

With Nic gone, I haven’t really been shopping for food.  I have made random stops for ice cream, but I don’t think that counts.

It has been enlightening though, pretty sure this allergy free girl might have a touch of lactose intolerance.  Although, the quantities in which I’m consuming said ice cream may render anyone intolerant of dairy.

Sandwich.

I was making lunch last week – and since I was out of greens for my cheese and veggie sandwich, I decided on peanut butter and jelly.

I got as far as the peanut butter and realized there was no jelly.

Okay, there sort of was jelly … it was in the pantry in a container and had liquified to jellorage status (Jelly/beverage – does that work?  Might that catch on?)

It sure as hell wasn’t going on my sandwich, I knew that much.

I had some strawberries that weren’t getting any firmer, but hadn’t reached ‘throw me out!’ stage yet – so I got creative and chopped them up and placed them on the peanut butter.

(This may already be a thing.  I’m reminded of when I opted for flour tortillas in lieu of bread when making a grilled cheese and meat concoction – ‘savory crepe’ I called it.  Then had the embarrassing moment of my friend Micah pointing out ‘did you just invent the quesadilla?’ Groan.)

Anyway it was amazing!

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And life is like that too.

Improvising when something is lacking in life – coming up with a solution that turns out to be better than the norm.

I actually did sit outside yesterday at sunset – and saw the most amazing cloud with sun streaming through it.  I snapped a bad photo of it on my ipad (Butters fled) and shared it.

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What I was thinking was it was beyond silver lining status – it was light and goodness breaking though the dark cloud with determination.

And that’s my next plan.

Stream through the dark clouds with truth – and sunlight and metaphorical chopped strawberries.

Still looking for good.  Still believing in light and love.

But not afraid to call ‘bullshit!’ either.

Gullible girl is gone.