There are things I need to keep telling myself. I need to keep telling myself that I am gorgeous and a force to be reckoned with. That I am good at things that I do, and that I never (in a rush to sound like a high school basketball coach) give less than 110% to anything that I do.
Whether I am knitting, playing on photoshop, talking into microphones, putting together an outfit, listening to friends, or anything, I am just beyond and beyond.
Both my boyfriend and my mother have said to me recently that it's amazing how much I listen. That they'll be talking to me and think that I'm not listening, and they'll trail off; at which point I'll jump in with solutions or words of encouragement or analysis. I do listen, I don't just blindly let my mind wander.
Have I told you yet that I am writing a book? Have I told you yet that my best friends are all within a three block radius of my house? Have I told you yet that my boyfriend and I are looking for houses?
I don't care what anyone says - the midwest is amazing. Yes, we get a bad reputation; yes we can be backasswards and the like; what you don't know is that we are incredibly astute and we listen to your big city pomposity and think about it on our own.
Yes I live in Ohio, but the county I lived in voted for Gore. My town has one of the highest gay to straight ratios in the country. Our economy is terminally on the rise. We have the greatest radiostation in the country. I have an apartment with a front and back yard.
Midwesterners are terminal tourists with wide eyes, but just thank your lucky stars that they're leaving the Midwest after all. The way you east and left coasters treat them, they might as well stay in Ohio and Iowa and leave your tourism in the dust.
(Can you tell that I watched one too many comedians making fun of Midwesterners last night? It's probably my greatest pet peeve: people who think that if one doesn't live in NYC or LA that they're basically not worth it.)
May the Force grant me with enough insight so as not to run away screaming from people as they approach me. May I find the understanding so as not to rip my own head off after saying ridiculous things. May the grass be green and weed free. May my hair stop frizzing and growing three times its size so that my head looks like a cat is growing out of my skull.
May my feet and hands and ankles cease with their incessent swelling of parts so that I may do some yoga and go for long walks without feeling as if I am made of hot dog when I return.
May it not be so unbearably hot up north this weekend. May the cicadas be few and the lawn games multiply. May my shoes not sink into the grass of the conservation center and leave me drowning amongst endangered beetles, wildflowers, and other creatures to make me either itch or freak.
May the air conditioner the boyfriend bought for $50 cool down the house enough so that we do not have to lug up the evil air conditioning unit from downstairs. And if this happens, may that evil air conditoning unit not make all the goings on within the house inaudible due to it's loud complainy pants.
The offline life, she continues.
What with weddings in Michigan; friends in from Seattle and Des Moines; sisters visiting; mothers visiting; trips up to the Alma Mater; storms to end all storms; FCC Licensing; gorgeous weather calling on sunburns; finding hot pink, kitten heel, patent leather shoes in a size women's US 12 (oooooh boy!); and everything everything everything .... and more yet to come.
This was my place for a long while, a long long while. I am hoping that will become the case again. I am trying to combat the chronic depression that has overtaken my life in the past six months - let's see how that fares first, shall we?
Love,
Undone
I am sorry that I have not been around. What with my mother visiting; my sister visiting; the nice nights; and the fights at three a.m. from next door, I have not had the time or the want to be at my computer.
Especially with my sister visiting.
We saw Mean Girls; it was beyond amazing.
I am reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves; it is doubly beyond amazing.
I watched A Mighty Wind last night; I now have "Wanderin'" going through my head, which is why I am currently listening to Joan Jett.
Be well.
There was already a journal entry tonight, but it said nothing, it meant nothing, this one ... this one means something.
I will preface this by saying that I feel ridiculous by saying that I am taking any life direction and advice from a reality TV show, but that is just the case. It took a contestant on a reality TV show to make me realize something about myself, and about who I am and what I try to do. I will not deny this, I will not deny that newness and revelation will come at the simplest and most unthought of times and from the same sort of unexpected and seemingly ridiculous sources.
My boyfriend and I DVR'd the last episode of Mad Mad House on my birthday. We watched it tonight.
One of the contestants said that she would no longer accept any mediocrity in her life. Whether or not this was said in earnest, and said with conviction, it hit me right square in the heart center.
I realize that I have been coasting through much of my adult life and much of my beliefs and the like. That I have been a culprit (I wanted to type "victim" but that would mean that I am placing the blame on factors other than myself, and that is not what I mean to say here) of coasting by on my own laurels, of living in mediocrity, of not trying, of not caring.
This has to stop. Now.
I will throw myself into my yoga practice. I will do the things I need to do in my life in order to reach the direction in which I want to go. I will meditate for the next week on what I want to be in my life, on where I want to be in the future.
Tonight, after my yoga practice, I did a heart meditation, asking my heart what it wanted above all else.
My heart said: "Love. Sunshine."
In my shavasana, I concentrated on breath associated with feelings of love and sunshine. I realize that I want to be a bright soul, I want to be a loved and loving soul. I will try to banish feelings of ill will, or cut out those factors in my life which bring me nothing but pain. I will cleanse my being of experiences, thoughts, actions, and words of mine and others that contradict this goal.
I will become the loving, caring, being of light that I am capable of making myself. I will throw myself first and foremost into the people that I love: my boyfriend, my family, my friends, my coworkers, the people who help me every day. I will try to end every interaction by making each person feel brighter and more loved in this world than before they talked to me. I will not place this action upon myself as me being the source of love and sunshine, but instead making themselves feel the love and sunshine around them.
This may seem like propaganda or "hippie bullshit" to some people. And, before practicing yoga, and engaging in meditation, I might have believed the same things myself.
Yes, I will still become angry at certain goings on in this world that I may not agree with. Instead of being a doomsayer and saying that I have no input on this, I will continue my crusade of getting people to the voting booths in November, of continuing to make people open their minds to the information that is out there which might not be blatantly obvious. I will try to be a source of education to those who may not understand exactly against what they may stand.
In order to bring love and sunshine (light) into this world, I must be composed, and full of those elements myself. I must look for the qualities of good in every person I come in contact with every day. I must teach the person to follow those qualities, rather than the negativity which resides within them.
I must be a teacher, not a naysayer.
This week in Burkina Faso, we are faced with one angry undone:
I want to take on the world. I want to march on Washington. I want to prove to every country, singlehandedly, that there are some Americans out there worth loving.
I am loveable. I have the love handles to prove it.
I could go on and on about this, but:
1) I have only seen the photographs, and that was while at work, and I don't think I could stomach it any more looking at everything from work. Also, I didn't want to spark poltical debate.
2) I am extremely angry about the entire debacle. My hands are shaking, and I am doing everything to live my life according to the way it's panned out, and I don't want to sit here and shake my head at everything I cannot control.
3) I called my congresspersons. Yes.
Today in Burkina Faso:
I am wearing shorts and a teeshirt, it is that warm. I am drinking coffee carefully, so as not to get driblets on my teeshirt. I have no shoes on, but my toes are asleep. I entertain the idea of practicing yoga this evening. I am having a ball purposefully Not. Touching. The. Television.
I saw a dog with his front paws crossed. I listened to someone blaring Mr. Sinatra as they gardened. I fell in love with a tattooed purple hair'd barista. Who doesn't fall in love when the outfits get tighter, shorter, more revealing, and the skin comes through? Cyborgs.
Me? My legs are still at blinding white, the highway construction going over just fine, thank you. One of these days, when I am forty, I will get tattoos to cover that all up. My massive calves will become canvases for things other than purple and red.
I want to take on the world. I want to march on Washington. I want to prove to every country, singlehandedly, that there are some Americans out there worth loving.
I am loveable. I have the love handles to prove it.
I could go on and on about this, but:
1) I have only seen the photographs, and that was while at work, and I don't think I could stomach it any more looking at everything from work. Also, I didn't want to spark poltical debate.
2) I am extremely angry about the entire debacle. My hands are shaking, and I am doing everything to live my life according to the way it's panned out, and I don't want to sit here and shake my head at everything I cannot control.
3) I called my congresspersons. Yes.
Today in Burkina Faso:
I am wearing shorts and a teeshirt, it is that warm. I am drinking coffee carefully, so as not to get driblets on my teeshirt. I have no shoes on, but my toes are asleep. I entertain the idea of practicing yoga this evening. I am having a ball purposefully Not. Touching. The. Television.
I saw a dog with his front paws crossed. I listened to someone blaring Mr. Sinatra as they gardened. I fell in love with a tattooed purple hair'd barista. Who doesn't fall in love when the outfits get tighter, shorter, more revealing, and the skin comes through? Cyborgs.
Me? My legs are still at blinding white, the highway construction going over just fine, thank you. One of these days, when I am forty, I will get tattoos to cover that all up. My massive calves will become canvases for things other than purple and red.
-- First Off: Thank you for the Birthday Wishes --
The city is so pregnant with moisture, I can feel it on my skin in the house, I can taste it in the air I breathe. Nothing is satisfying. A nice cold Coca Cola, one of my 3 cigarettes, a large glass of water .. none of it is appealing or even welcomed. The cookies from last night are soggy and dying.
My mother is coming into Burkina Faso tonight for a three day tour (Insert bad pun here about a certain three hour tour involving The Minnow and Mary Ann), and it will be raining the whole weekend long.
What I mean by that is, my mother will be here for three days, and the SG-ing will be at a minimum. So, now I clean the house and wash sheets, towels and dishes in preparation for her arrival.
The city is so pregnant with moisture, I can feel it on my skin in the house, I can taste it in the air I breathe. Nothing is satisfying. A nice cold Coca Cola, one of my 3 cigarettes, a large glass of water .. none of it is appealing or even welcomed. The cookies from last night are soggy and dying.
My mother is coming into Burkina Faso tonight for a three day tour (Insert bad pun here about a certain three hour tour involving The Minnow and Mary Ann), and it will be raining the whole weekend long.
What I mean by that is, my mother will be here for three days, and the SG-ing will be at a minimum. So, now I clean the house and wash sheets, towels and dishes in preparation for her arrival.
Recipe for disaster :::
1) Wear Fluffy Puff Marshmallows teeshirt while kicking The Cheat all over the living room, giggling like a maniac and eating a white chocolate orange.
2) Set The Cheat static sticker free due to open windows on a very dirty car.
3) Wear same short skirt to work with super pale legs, and go about announcing to everyone that today is a special day.
4) In honor of special day, pop zit in work washroom.
5) Sing along to French Jazz
6) Think about how 27 is divisible by two of your favorite numbers: 3 & 9
1) Wear Fluffy Puff Marshmallows teeshirt while kicking The Cheat all over the living room, giggling like a maniac and eating a white chocolate orange.
2) Set The Cheat static sticker free due to open windows on a very dirty car.
3) Wear same short skirt to work with super pale legs, and go about announcing to everyone that today is a special day.
4) In honor of special day, pop zit in work washroom.
5) Sing along to French Jazz
6) Think about how 27 is divisible by two of your favorite numbers: 3 & 9
- Have you ever forgotten your height?
- When you're standing next to an old friend, do you often feel compelled to grab their hand and say "Don't go, please stay?"
- Do you often kick yourself for saying things you should have taken back?
- Do you blush when someone calls your name?
The night is cold, and the stars are so bright, shining sharp pinpricks. And I want to be out in it. I am longing for long romantic nights again, but all I seem to get is nights in separate chairs in separate desks. Or on the couch, falling asleep on each other's shoulders while the television speaks softly its hypnotism.
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Edited to Say ::
Usually, I am the one doing the leaving. Every four years or so, packing up my house, my life, and taking off to someplace else and leaving a life behind me.
Now, my best friend is leaving tomorrow (on my birthday), and I am sitting at work trying not to cry. I am doing all of the customary "Don't cry don't cry don't cry" things I do: biting lips, keeping my mind busy, looking at the celing, averting eyes. And it's not working.
- When you're standing next to an old friend, do you often feel compelled to grab their hand and say "Don't go, please stay?"
- Do you often kick yourself for saying things you should have taken back?
- Do you blush when someone calls your name?
The night is cold, and the stars are so bright, shining sharp pinpricks. And I want to be out in it. I am longing for long romantic nights again, but all I seem to get is nights in separate chairs in separate desks. Or on the couch, falling asleep on each other's shoulders while the television speaks softly its hypnotism.
-----------------------------------
Edited to Say ::
Usually, I am the one doing the leaving. Every four years or so, packing up my house, my life, and taking off to someplace else and leaving a life behind me.
Now, my best friend is leaving tomorrow (on my birthday), and I am sitting at work trying not to cry. I am doing all of the customary "Don't cry don't cry don't cry" things I do: biting lips, keeping my mind busy, looking at the celing, averting eyes. And it's not working.
