This is my desk right now. And this is part of the reason I will be “in seclusion” this weekend.
So, I packed lunch today. There is is. Also breakfast. And on the way to work it hit me that I am trying to switch my sleep schedule, but my *eat* schedule is still pegged to a 10am to 2am routine. For those of you keeping track, that’s a five hour offset. Do you think that maybe that would account for some of the tiredness? A little of it? All I know so far is that I drank that smoothie at 9 and ate lunch at 1 and I don’t feel like I’m dying over here.
Another of today’s insights: I am such a different person than most of my extended family recognizes. Sitting in social work classes, learning to help people see their own strengths, and how to encourage them to use those strengths to empower themselves has been wildly effective for me personally.
Well that, and the decision to live like I am dying. We all are, you know. This is not a dress rehearsal. You won’t get another run through to be happy and love fiercely. Do it now.
Inside this plain white wrapper is a bacon, egg, and cheese croissant. Doesn’t that look appetizing? Not so much? Yeah, I know. I’ve come to realize that inside this corpulence is a chronically malnourished women. I’m tired, so I make crappy choices, so I’m getting fed but not nourished, which makes me more tired. Time to get off this bus.
I need to pick up some smoothies that I can grab on the way out the door. And I need to start packing a lunch even when I don’t want to be bothered with it. Because increased lethargy means decreased productivity, and I *really* don’t have time for that.
This looks like a parking pass and it is. It is also two extra hours of study time each week that I would otherwise spend waiting on and riding the shuttle across campus. It’s not getting soaked and windblown while waiting. It’s not having to dig my ID out of my backpack, but only on random days, and always when it is cold and/or wet. I’m a last semester senior, and from now on I park in front of my building, bitches.
So this is my agenda for the day. A child’s book, 84 pages. I like these Holling C. Holling books, because I learn so much reading them. I used them when I homeschooled the children in the early grades to teach subjects like science, history, and geography. But reading them aloud is not the same as reading them for myself. Today I have learned about the vast amount of things in the bottom of the Mississippi, and also that pearl buttons come from clam shells. And that turtle eggs take 100 days to hatch. And I have remembered my last camping trip, and how the kids saw a box turtle sitting in the trail, and I told them just to watch, but not bother her, because she was laying eggs. And how we watched a baby alligator swimming for over an hour. And how I cooked hot dogs in the rain. I’m on page 56.
I had also planned to read Self-Reliance today. And finish The Law of Attraction. But, the internet has been distracting. And text messages have made me smile. Repeatedly. Soon it will be time to cook. And then later tonight, I am putting my head together with a friend to plan my next adventure.
The internet, distracting. I have a love/hate relationship with it. I cannot deny that it is a massive time sink in my life. But I also cannot deny that the advent of such technology has enabled me to pull my circle of friends from far flung places and then keep up with them, almost in real time.
Which thought path led, this morning, to thoughts about laziness, and how invalid I now find the concept of not putting forth effort in interpersonal relationships. And how angry it makes me when people don’t. And then the side of me that doesn’t like to sit in anger had to remind angry me that maybe people who don’t put forth effort just don’t desire the depth of relationship that I desire. Maybe they would rather have easy than real. Maybe they are getting the quality of relationships they want, and I can’t judge them for wanting things to be more superficial. But I can say I think they are often settling, and settling is a miserable way to live a life. You only get one, so don’t settle. Work for what you want: in relationships, in calling, in art– in all you do, work for what you want. Do not let complacency, laziness or cowardice steal from you your one precious life.
I live a life of rabbit trails. I suck the marrow from the bone. I follow my bliss. All those cliches. But the thing is, living like this makes the joy rise up out of me and spill over. And in truth, I fail. I fail often, and I fail hard. But I don’t judge myself for that. I judge myself for the times I hold back effort. I judge myself if I have to ask “what if?” The last thing I want on my death bed is a lingering discourse with myself about what might have been if I had just tried.
I almost forgot, AGAIN, that it was Sunday. I was trying to think of a picture I could take that would go with today’s writing when I remembered. And that’s good, because today is a two-fer. You get the outside in the picture, as usual. But I have also spent some time today sharing my heart on relationships with a friend, and that, cleaned up, will be the bulk of what you read or skip today.
And truly, it’s okay if you skip. I will never find out. And I know it can be very uncomfortable to read about other people’s inner thoughts. Unintentional mirrors and flashlights and such. I get that.
I like to laugh, to play. I have a lot of serious moments, deep thoughts. And then a flash of humor. It’s important to me to be able to share both. I want a man willing to both think and laugh with me.
Let me revisit that last statement. Not “I want a man…..”. I want people….who can accept me as I am in this moment, and in the next, different moment’s incarnation. And I want that badly enough that I am intentionally seeking it out. I want that depth of connection, because anything less feels false.
The interplay of love and freedom has been particularly salient for me of late, likely because I am spending a good deal of mental energy figuring out what open relating and relationship anarchy is going to look like for me. Letting go of that societal imprinting where the body is the person. And also figuring out what makes me feel caged and what makes me feel free. And how to approach people, but stay large, stay me even as I forge connections with others. I’m very busy pulling the lessons from the experiences.
I’d rather look at my fear and get to know it, get comfortable with it, than to set yet more artificial boundaries between myself and others. People hurt each other, as much as they try not to. I know that in any relationship, that’s going to happen. Because we are human.
There are two things about that. First, I can decide not to even get started because of fear, or I can accept it as a “cost of doing business” as it were and proceed. And the second thing is about when it happens: whether or not we move past it when it does happen relies to a very great extent on whether I make it about the other person or about me. And if I own my own feelings on that, sit with them, look at where they really originate, then that’s the better choice.
All of this is part of what my tattoo means. I was able to get it after I changed my perspective on some things. I’m not actually fearless. But I can act that way because I don’t let fear call the shots. I don’t let should call the shots. Should is another link in the chain of fear.
I let the shots call themselves, and attempt to walk in grace and beauty, treading compassionately in the lives of others.
I slept late. I went to four different stores to do the grocery shopping. I made the menu once I got home. The shopping, after several days of doing mostly nothing else except cough and sleep, wore me out. So I drank hot tea, and then we had dinner. During dinner we watched two episodes of Quantum Leap because I didn’t have sufficient brain power to choose a Saturday Night Flick. Nor apparently enough brain power to remember until this very minute that I have several lined up for us in Netflix and Crackle for just such circumstances. The other thing I didn’t remember is that the DVD player is now in the living room, and so there were NEW movies we could have watched.
I worked on my socks. As you can see, they do not match. Same dyelot my arse. The ball bands LIE. I knew something was up when I had to roll one ball up backwards from the way I was using the other to get something that even approximated “like.” I shall make two pairs. Not that I want two pairs this similar, but. You know, whatever. Gifts. Somebody has to have feet as small as mine, right?
There will not be 500 words tonight. But I took a picture. Two in fact. And I wrote some. I am calling it done.