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I am thinking of her and her kindness. I am thinking of her and her honesty. She gave me both. To keep. So I pass it on.
As of today, I have been blogging for 5 years. I love how 5 years ago I had no idea where I would be today. This is what is awesome about life. It is always a surprise.
This is what I wrote, 5 years ago today:
This acorn October is tumbling past me faster than ever. I spent all year waiting for October and I just looked up to find it half gone.
Everything is changing for me. No. Stop. Rewind. I am changing everything. I own these changes, I am sure of it.
Part of me wants to fast foward 6 or even 8 months to the day when all the changing will be done. But I know I should stay here and now and watch it all unfold.
I am bringing gifts. They are the best gifts of all. When will you give yourself the good presents? Aren't you sick of wasting them on everyone else?
This acorn October is fast. Faster than I thought possible.
I have been spending an insane amount of time reading. And yes, surprisingly, I am reading the Twilight series. Vampire romances. Very unlike me to be reading these books. But I have to say that I am completely fascinated. I don't really think the books are particularly great, but they are captivating. Sometimes they feel like a perfect mistake, a beautiful train wreck, a necessary evil. And sometimes they are just pure fun and completely engrossing.
They tap into this thing with me, this weird nightmare that I have had on and off for my whole life. A vampire nightmare that started when I was about 7. Always running, I was as a little girl, from the vampires. My heart pounding in my chest as I ran and ran. I think the nightmares started right after I saved my sister and I from being kidnapped. Kidnapped by a dark haired man in an old purple car. We ran and ran that day, through our neighbors back yards and across streets. She was too little to understand what was going on, so I had to pick her up and toss her over low fences and hope that we would escape. It sounds so dramatic, but I am sure it was only about 5 or so minutes of my life, this great escape. I often wonder if I dreamed it up. But no, my sister affirms the story. Us in our matching terry cloth jackets, walking one street away from our house as the purple car began to follow us and the tall thin man got out and started walking toward us.
So then the nightmares began and I endured them and sometimes Andy and Barney from Mayberry were also vampires and they also chased me down the street, them in black and white and me in color. So strange. But mostly, it was a version of the typical pre-Buffy vampire that provided me with the terror. Then one day, at maybe 12 or so, I decided in the dream that I wouldn't be chased anymore. I would just stop and let him catch me.
"Screw this," I thought looking down at a black and white checkered dream floor, "You've got me." And this is what Stephenie Meyer's books kinda tap into with me. The giving up and letting the monster catch you because you can't and don't want to run anymore. And frankly because you are kinda interested in what he wants anyway. (To be honest, this might have been how I felt about my high school boyfriend. And if you know me, you know which one I am talking about.) The heroine in her novels does just this and it of course goes terribly wrong. But what is better, being chased by the vampires your whole life or just giving up, really? In the end, I don't think it is the best message for young girls, but I can understand the appeal. The surrender, the want to be more than you are, to be superhuman, to be loved forever.
I will have more to say on this when I complete the final book, but for now, I am both completely engrossed and completely appalled by these books and their message. And yet I feel like I have been there, in a dream world long ago, that I understand the impulse. Meyer has tapped into something really interesting and I didn't expect I would be remotely interested.
If you thought I was brave for being honest in the past in this blog, I totally just admitted to reading a set of vampire romances. Awesome.
Like thousands of late to middle aged women, my kids love beanie babies. Lucky for me, I haven't had to actually "buy" many beanie babies. Instead, my mom brings out large bags of bears and dogs and buzzards and lambs and lizards for them to choose from. All packed away with their tags encased in those plastic protectors. Even more, they love the tiny beanie babies that came from MacDonald's at some point. They love to line them all up and talk to them and name them and have school for them and feed them ice cream and create stories about them. Never in my life before I had children would I have thought that these stupid little stuffies would be useful. But they are and it is awesome.
This got me thinking. Beanie baby collectors are dying every single day. Seriously, they are. And what will happen to all of the mint condition friends? Someone totally needs to start a charity where they go and pick up beanie baby collections from grieving relatives and give the little guys to kids all around the world who need toys. Beanie baby collectors need to start adding these things to their wills or do something good for the world and start giving them away to less fortunate children right now!
If only I had time for another project.
And what about the Boyd's Bears? Those bears are far too nice for all the old ladies keeping them on shelves. I wanna be the Robin Hood of teddies and steal from them from the old and give them to the young.
There is a certain type of person that I really like.
It is hard to pin point what it is I like about these people. I like people who are willing to collaborate on really big projects when the rewards are sometimes intangible. I like people who are able to take things seriously while still having fun. I like people who are always looking ahead and not back. I like people who are often thinking about helping others without a personal agenda.
I have been taking friend inventory lately and it makes me happy that I know many people like what I just described. I spent a lot of time in my twenties with only 1 or two friends. I can't believe this now, how strangely small my world was. How closed off I was to new people. I don't know where my head was. I do know that I weighed nearly 100 pounds more than I do now, so maybe that is it. Perhaps it is that since becoming a mother I want to feel more connected to people. I guess it is lots of things.
I spent many many hours this weekend working on a project with two people who really fit the profile of the kind of person that I like. And it just made me think about how we should never take for granted knowing people that we really like. Cause we could easily be spending our days with assholes that we can't stand.
You can totally follow me on Twitter if you have a Twitter account. Not sure how many people actually have one. But here I am.
>>photo by Valerie Dryden.
I have mentioned this before, but the girls love trees. They love to say, "Hello, tree. How you doing?" They love to go outside and hug their tree friends. This makes me happy. The girls also like to argue about Barack Obama vs. Hillary Clinton. This makes me laugh. It usually ends with one calling Hillary Clinton a butt hole. This makes me laugh even harder. I am glad that I have kids who can appreciate the beauty of nature as well as the complex political landscape of our country.
I think that Barack Obama likely enjoys trees more than Hillary Clinton. Gonna go ask the girls what they think.
I tried to avoid the zombie Easter/spring card, but Zombie Guy Eric talked me into it. And I have to say this one was the most fun to design:
The Crap Bunny is made by and provided by my friend Spidercamp. Isn't he rad?
The cards come in packs of 5, 10 or just one alone. You can get them at my Etsy shop.
I also made some felt easter basket buddies, which are completely useless, but cute:
Easter is early this year, so order soon!
I have begun to nightmare again after many many years of no nightmare activity at all. This explains my lack of blogging somewhat. I find that when I am in this mode in life, I am more tired than usual and things like writing down my feelings become more and more difficult.
At the end of the 90's, when I decided to change my life and become this current me, I was plagued with nightmares. I lived in the horrible suburbs and drove a car everywhere and weighed over 300 pounds. My dreams were filled with me driving over a cliff or spinning out of control or just falling and falling and falling. It was terrible. So I did something.
When I started losing weight and making art, my dreams changed. I dreamt of old friends and new possibilities. I saw things that would be become my new life. A life of friends who make things and shows were we sell these things at. It is pretty amazing how accurate they are now that I go back and read the old blog entries from those days. These days were rad, imagining a new future for myself. No more falling. A blog entry from November 4, 2004. The description of the museum reminds me of Crafty Bastards:
I love dreaming. I love the nonsense of it. Last night, I ran into an old friend in an art museum that was filled like a thrift store, all jumbled in piles. The art was my own and my friends' and then other things like smiles and regular things like shoes. Anyway, the old friend was Andy Smrz. Where are you Andy Smrz? Andy was talking nonstop because we hadn't seen each other in years and years and I was trying to keep up with him and the art at the same time. Then I told him the story of the time in college when we used to drive to school together, which I think was only a very short time. And one time he got the flu and I had to take care of him, which I am not even sure is true in the real world. Then Andy tried to record everything I was saying on this big platter of cotton candy. But the sound kept falling off because cotton candy isn't very sturdy. If you are reading this and know Andy Smrz, tell him I am dreaming of him and cotton candy.
When I was pregnant, I would dream and dream, but never nightmare. I was growing babies and this was magical and my dreams were filled of future scenes of the strange creatures inside of me, of their soft baby heads and waiting in line for school and falling in love with tattooed boys. I was living their lives in my sleep and this was tremendous and some of the best sleep times of my life.
Then I didn't dream at all for two years. I never slept for long enough to dream, up feeding babies or with sick kids or just working. If you don't sleep for more than 3 hours at a time, it is hard to have a dream life.
But recently, I have been finding myself giving in and going to bed before midnight, even though my work isn't done or the house is a mess or I haven't been to the gym in weeks. I just give in and go to sleep and then the nightmares begin. In one recent dream, Jeff and I just drive into the ocean. I tell him we should get out of the car, that we can just walk away from it, but he wants to save the car and then we are under the water. In another, I am trying to save the girls from crazy men with big eyes who are really creepy. In another, Rachel falls down a tunnel at the Metro and strangers in white coats have to save her. And there are the driving off the cliff dreams from before. An old foe they are.
I am not writing this so you will worry about me. I am writing this so that I can figure out how to make it stop. I truly believe that for some people dreams are a good indication of what is really going on in their life. In my life, I press on. Every day. On and on and on. Like the dream when Jeff and I drive into the ocean. I try to save the damn car, and drown, when I should just let it drift away and remember that living is more important. My dreams are telling me that my stress levels are becoming toxic. That I need to take a step back. That I do too much and not enough. That I am not balanced. That I need to find this balance.
I look forward to making these nightmares go away and thus making my waking life easier. I don't know how I will do this, but at least I am writing it down now. This is the first step. Perhaps I will blog the nightmares away.
>>>photo by Valerie Dryden<<<
If you just read my blog, you would think the only thing I have been doing is podcasting about television. Not true!
These past two months I have packed up and sent out an amazing amount of orders (maybe nearly 400!), helped put on a successful holiday show with the Craft Mutiny, started potty training my girls, spent a fun night in the emergency room to learn that Anya has a peanut allergy and last but not least, gained 10 pounds. Yep. 10 pounds. And I have to say that it is heavy. I can feel it everywhere, even in my fingers as I type. I am glad that this time is over. I am looking forward to my 30 points a day and going to the gym every night instead of packing up 12 orders a day. I am looking forward to spending the next few months concentrating on myself rather than others. I totally need this and am going to take it. I am accepting this as my own fault, of course, embracing it. It is the only way to walk past it and beat it and continue to smallen.
I will say, though, that on Xmas morning, I did think of all of the people opening presents that I made. I also often thought about the nearly 2500 people who would get zombie cards this holiday season. This is really rad. This makes me want to make and make and make. I have all of these new ideas swirling around in my head and can't wait to see them come to life. I just want to leave the stress and cookies of the holiday season behind!
This holiday season taught me that I need to be prepared. I need to not get stressed when I can't handle things. Because stress for me equals eating which equals staying fat. Poop on that!!!
Something else we have been doing in the past few months has been getting our picture taken. Lots. Valerie Dryden, a student at the Corcoran School of Art has been taking our picture for her senior thesis since August or so. She has taken over 800 or so photos. I am going to start posting some of them. The one on top of this post is the first. Moments after this was taken, Rachel had an asthma attack and I had to literally run her home to get give her meds (no inhaler yet for someone so small). This photo is totally what my life is like, one minute we are sliding and sunny, the next, racing home with an asthma attack. I am looking forward to this new year being more calm. Will it happen? Unlikely, but I am wishing.
DCblogs.com today posted my blog post: in heaven without a Nintendo DS (below) and then Jeff's follow-up: Hope and the New Atheism, at Restaurant Fuel.
This is kinda cool. I am not sure if Jeff even read my post. Perhaps I read it to him. Thanks to DCblogs.com, though for posting them.
I am thinking of ghosts again today. And the beauty of the idea that we all stay here when our bodies die. It makes religion and heaven seem sad in way. Like I don't want to go and sit at the throne of god or whoever when I could float around my own house, amongst my own things for the rest of my energy span. I love my things. The art on the wall. My daughters' shoes. The mess of packing peanuts on the bedroom floor.
I thought of this yesterday, too, as Jeff and I did our Xmas shopping. We were lucky to be without the girls while we did it, so we could get things for them without sneaking them into the cart. I kept looking all around at people, wondering how long they would get to have these things they were buying. And will they miss them when they are gone. And how boring it would be in heaven without their Nintendo DS.
The older I get and the more I love the world and life, the less I believe in god. It just seems worthless to think that there is something better than here. Here is so great. The cold air on my face, the way that orange loves blue, the taste of hazelnut candies.
I know this is weird. Sorry if it bothers you.
I am slightly addicted to Facebook today. I used to hate it. But then Jeff started messaging me on it today, which is weird because he could just call me. Thanks.
Anyway, add me as a friend if you are on there. I am under my real name (Tina Henry-Barrus), not Tina Seamonster, which makes me super sad.
It is 3 p.m. and I am trying to get the girls to nap again. It will not work and they will not sleep and my daily naps are like the dinosaurs, gone gone gone.
A breeze comes through the window as it is finally fall, my best alive time. It blows Rachi's hair and she says, "I windy, mama." It is cold on my cheek and smells like camping and I am suddenly transported to a camping trip that I took when I was 18 or so. So much went on on that trip, weird friend stuff and someone built me a small scale model of Stonehenge on the camp site and I still have the picture of 18 year old me sitting so happy, teary eyed next to the little henge.
It is rare that I am so completely reminded of and transported to another place and while I love this, that our minds can do this, it also makes me sad. I wonder if this is how it must feel to be very very old. To have 90 or 100 years of memories stored up and then a breeze comes and takes you back to another place and another you. But it is still this you, but this time and place are so so long gone. I wonder if the more life memories you have stored up, the more this happens. And perhaps this is why very old people always seem to be living in the past.
Sometimes I hate that time is linear. I want it to be a swirly wobble. But our little brains couldn't handle this, so we build our clocks and our TV schedules and we live our lives.
My friend, Doug, once told me that in our lifetimes we will cure death. I think he said it like that. That we will cure everything and people wouldn't die like they used to. That we will live to be much much older than we do now. I don't think I could bare this. I don't think I would want to be 150, with 150 years of memories all swirling around in my brain, ready to pop up at any time. Ready to remind me of what I once had. I have never feared getting old, but I suppose I fear staying old forever. Like vampires. Being a vampire must be such a drag. It just goes on and on and on. Vampires are like grandpas, sitting around remembering and remembering.
You come home, a little sweaty from the walk up the hill. Black t-shirt and Chucks and jeans. Your hair is messy and longer than it has ever been. The girls and I are making a bed on the bedroom floor. "We napping," Anya says.
I look at you with the eyes of someone old, who has lived her life already. This is a strange feeling, like I have already been here. It makes me sad, like I am watching a scene from a movie where the main character is not going to make it to the end. The sun is coming in the window just right and the future seems unwritten and free and yet I think, "We will never be younger than this. We will never be happier than this."
One of those is true. You will never be younger than you are today, this very minute, this very second. You are the youngest you will ever be, so stop wasting your time.
"We will never be happier than this," is hopefully not true. I hope I don't think this again. I push it out of my mind and help the girls turn their floor bed into a dragon cave and then a bear cave and then a monster cave and we have made all of the known caves and we are on to something new.
Threadless is having a $10 sale that ends today!
I got this for the girls and I:
I got this for Jeff:
I am desperately trying to finish Harry Potter and The Deathly Hallows. For a few nights, Jeff and I sat in the living room until quite late, reading and reading and reading. I felt like we were studying for an exam. It was stressful. Of course, he reads far faster than me, so he is done. But I am still stuck around page 400.
The amount of free time that I actually have has become so very clear. I am also realizing that I need glasses big time, as I find myself reading with one eye shut. Cyclops reader.
The funny thing is, I want to finish it so that I can listen to my beloved Mugglecast. How weird is that? I want to finish the book so that I can listen to other people analyze it. The 3 Harry Potter podcasts that I listen to have so made my fandom of the series more enjoyable. In this order, I enjoy, Mugglecast, Harry Potter Prognostications and then Pottercast. If any of those URLs are wrong it is because I am too afraid of being spoiled on the ending to check them!
Yesterday morning the phone rang once. Jeff brought it to me to show me the name of the caller, "Aldron Godblot" was calling. Jeff said, "Is the Harry Potter universe calling us?" I thought with giggles of some poor wizard accidently dialing a Muggle phone. With a name like Aldron Godblot, there is no way you are a Muggle.
i have this watch that speaks french. she tells me what time it is, except she is always wrong. i know just enough french to know she is wrong. and i feel bad for her. she is bad at the only thing she knows how to do.
Threadless is having a $10 sale ($20 for American Apparel shirts). So I took some time from my own silk screening for Art Star to buy the family some shirts. Here is what I got. The first two for me, next one is Anya's and then Rachi's. The last one is the shirt that Jeff wanted, but is sold out. Remember if you are going to buy, use my link so that I get street team points! Everyone loves $10 tees and street team points! Don't spend all your cash, though, cause I have literally made over 100 shirts, skirts, underwear, etc. for Art Star!
i want the weeble wooble ghost from the weeble wobble haunted house i had as a kid. this is my greatest dream. i will carry him in my pocket and marvel at how smooth he is. the cuteness of ghosts is often overlooked.
It is 11:06 and I am tired. I have too many jobs and this keeps me up. I have declared a war on debt and hospital bills. I will win this war and then will be able to sleep and make quilts and capes and silly hats. I know that three years from now this will be my truth, so I press on. It isn't as hard as working in an office. I need to remember that. As always I need to remember a lot of things. I have fought this debty war before and I have fought this weighty war before and I know how to win wars. But I still get emotional about them. I need to get past the emotional part and get to the fighty part. I feel like I am getting there.
Before I got pregnant, my friend life was full of boys. I liked this friend life. It was easy. And I was always fun fun funny me. But when the babies started growing in my tummy I lost some of the boys. Not all, but some. Not the most important, of course. The girls in my tummy took away the sadness of this loss. Today I found myself surrounded by new friends, all girls except one little one whose mommies are awesome. I like this change. I am gathering girls and keeping them in my life and it feels better than my old life. I am gathering girls near and far. I send packages to the ones I can't touch and I gather them from across the sea.
Is there a new you in your life? Do you dig her?
Rachi wears two hats. One summer on top of one witch hat. I dreamt this. Except future Anya was at a party wearing two hats, waiting for her sister. I wonder if they are getting mixed up in my soothsaying. Rachi can now say "octo" for octopus and "Adi" for our door man Adisu. Ani says, "no no no" and "shhh". They are new girls everyday.
People from the past have been showing up lately. Some of it has been Jeff's doing with his crazy Myspacing. But others have to do with my blog. I am easy to find on the web because of it. Is this happening to you, too? How do you feel about it?
It started a few months ago when my best friend from 1st grade emailed me. I think she might have found me on classmates.com or something. But what a lovely surprise. We shared all these memories of our 6 year old selves. I loved that she remembered things that I didn't and vice versa. We used to make these tapes, like radio shows. And I would use this weird voice and said I was the Tiddy Bowl Man. It is a disturbing memory, really. Cindy was my first best friend. We shared all of this time together, singing in her big bedroom. I remember the way the light came through her window and how we loved this song by Roseanne Cash. Then one day, she moved away and was lost forever. She made me think about how, as a mom, I will have to make these kinds of decisions for my girls. I mean, right now I am taking them out of daycare and they can't vote on whether or not they get to stay. Will they miss their friends? Probably not yet, but what about in the future? I thought having infants was hard. I think navigating the politics of friendship for twin six years will be even more difficult.
So the internet is delivering my past to me. Within the course of a week, I have spoken to both an exboyfriend from college and a close friend from high school. Both relationships ended on poor terms, but with time all of that craziness has seemed to evaporate. I love this. I love reknowing people. I always miss people who leave my life. Mostly because I tend to either become very close with someone or not close at all. I am an all or nothing kind of friend. And as I get older, I seem to find comfort in people who knew me when I was younger. I wonder what this is about. It is so interesting to talk to someone you haven't seen in 14 years because you know this former them and if the friendship was close, then you know the core them. But then they have this time that you dont' know about. It is almost like Dr. Who. I know the Doctor. I have watched like 30 years of Dr. Who. But I don't know all the inbetween stories. I don't know about the Time War, ya know? I can just see how it has changed him. I know this is a fictional character, but really this is what this is like. I know these people and who they used to be, but am intersted to see who they became. And how they got there on the way.
This makes me think about this dream that I had where I found a time machine and decided I would go back in time and get actors in the past to come here and box office battle their current selves. Like John Cusak from 1989 came back, made a movie and it was box office gold. Meanwhile the current oldish John Cusak is suffering and is like, "oh crap." I would want to do this for lots of actors. Like dead ones, too. Like Jack Lemon. Is it just me, or would we leave Johnny Depp in the past and keep the current version?
To this, Jeff says, "That is the worst use of a time machine I have ever heard of." This makes me laugh and laugh.
As you may know, I have no time. But just now, both babies asleep, I found this Frappr map thing strangely compelling. You can log in and then the map will show me where you all are. I hate getting sucked in by cool internet crap, but this is pretty cool.
ok... this map isn't working... there is a link on the right... over there on the right (top for IE, bottom of the column for firefox), click it and stuff. it is pretty cool.
Our world is white white white. I am still wearing my jimjams. It is nearly noon. More later. I must baby-wrangle.
I have been withholding this information for some reason. I don't know why. It isn't anything big. Just that i had my reunion with my street grandma. It was a day later than it should have been, because, I am ashamed to say, I avoided her once. I didn't have the time it would take to update her on the past 5 months, so I didn't walk down the street where she stands. I saw her, there, though. Something in me also made me feel a little guilty. I think it is about my real grandma and how I don't visit her in the nursing home. She doesn't remember anyone, I tell myself, so it is ok. But it really isn't ok. These things rarely are. Last time that I went to visit, there was a terrible stomach flu raging among the inmates. I didn't get to see her, but I did get the flu. Pregnant and with the flu. Now, Jeff and I agree that a nursing home is too dirty for infants. So, odds are that I may never see her again. This is what made me avoid Lydia, my street grandma, the other day. This sadness and yearning to see my real grandma.
When my parents told my real grandma that I was pregnant with twins, she didn't really remember me. But to the news, she said, "better her than me!" Ah, that is my Margie. Always with the quippy. When my dad told her that she had two new great grandchildren, she looked at him and said, "mike's daughter, right? she had them." All the while, not even knowing that she was talking to Mike. So it was with all of this in my little head that I seek out my street grandma for the first time in 5 months.
Lydia is right where I left her 5 months ago, next to the smoothie place where I get my lunch. As I walk up, she reaches into her giant silver purse and pulls out a pair of pink gloves. She hands them to me without even saying hello. "For you," she says. "They match your hair." To this I wonder how long this woman has had these gloves in her purse. How many times did she search the streets for my pink hair. How much did she worry about me. And this breaks my heart. I am heartbroken at what I have put her through. I am heartbroken at what we put all grandmas through. They don't deserve this.
She tells me that she got my card announcing the birth of the babies. To this I am happy because it means that she indeed does live somewhere and not outside. She also tells me that around July she thought I might not make it. She worried that I was going to die. I came close, I tell her. I give her another picture of the girls and she is delighted. She asks a lot of questions about daycare and seems worried that I am leaving my daughters somewhere unsafe. "And at night," she says. "You have a place to stay at night." To this, I feel so ashamed of my lovely 7th floor apartment with its solarium overlooking the park. I wish she didn't assume that I am poor, but she worries about me.
Lydia wants to buy a present for the babies. She wants to buy them gloves. I tell her I already have some, but they always could use socks. "I know a lady who sells socks," she says, delighted. I tell her to please not buy too much, as I look down at her cup nearly empty except for a dollar and some coins. I offer to buy her lunch, but she smiles and scolds me. "You know I am trying to lose weight and you offer me food!" I see Margie in her smile. I hear Margie when she speaks. And I am heartbroken. And so, I will avoid her corner for a few days until the pain is dulled.
It is 9:51 pm on a Monday night and we are the only people on the little white bus going from Woodley Park to U Street. The girl in my front pack has finally calmed down after a good deal of hopping and binky giving on my part. Your girl is wearing a blue hoody sweatshirt that you picked out before she was born. Her head is turned and I can only see her tuft of hair. You look so tired in this blue bus light and I am filled with so much love that I can't stand it. At the bus stop you said we were like Mai and Satsuki waiting for the cat bus in Totoro. Iconic. But this moment is equally as iconic. I say that we are like a scene in a movie, the light is just right. You joke that they don't make movies about people with babies. But here we are, we will never be in this place again, on a night bus with 8 week old babies. You in your Bungee baseball cap and me with my pink hair. Some day when we can't afford this city lifestyle, I will remember this. It is funny how life always takes me to exactly where I need to be. And last night on that bus with you and the babies was that place.
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below is my new hair in phases... first the bleaching, then the new pink with some blond. the baby is rachel.
The world still exists and we live in it.
Let's try again. This week, I learned that the world still exists beyond the window that I look out over the changing table. And that we girls indeed do live in it.
On Thursday, Jeff, the girls and I went to the Crafty Bastards party at the CityPaper offices. So at 6 weeks old, my wee ones have been to their first party. We got to meet Sara and the whole Crafty Bastards crew there who were so nice. Then we saw Heidi and Tom, who we adore. Oh my, the arts and craft fair is only 21 days away! Dude, I have a lot ot make before then. Here is a picture of me and the girls that I stole from Heidi's website:
Then on Friday morning, I trekked down the hill more than a mile to my work to show off the girls. I almost cried the last block there because I hadn't walked there is so long and hadn't seen those places in so long. I have worked in the same building for over 10 years and I never thought turning the corner and seeing it would make me cry, but it did. Weird. Everyone at work was so nice and excited to see me and the babies. It was pretty touching. And reminded me of the world/life? I have been missing/missed.
On my way out, the Indian street vendor and his wife in front of the building stopped me excitedly. I have literally walked past these people for ten years, and never talked to them other then to buy an umbrella. The woman was talking really fast, while the man translated. They were worried about me because all of a sudden I had stopped walking past them. They remembered watching me get bigger and bigger during my pregnancy and then I just wasn't there anymore. They were so excited to see me and the babies and were so surprised to see two! They had just become grandparents for the first time in June and were so excited to tell me about it. It was this amazing experience, like something from a Krzysztof Kieslowski movie. This perfect intersection of people and places and things. It reminded me that even though you don't know it, there are people in your life who love you and think about you. Just as you love and think about the person you see on the bus everyday or the man in the elevator with the funny hair. That we all have a story and connections and secret caring for strangers.
Pushing my giant double stroller, I made my way home, stopping at Chocolate Chocolate first for 5 Star bars. The store is so tiny that only the girls and I fit in it. I walked past the Gap, thinking about how excited I was when I could finally wear clothes from there and how excited I will be when I can again. My former life as this carefree girl all came flooding back to me. And I remembered how the dirty streets of Washington were always so inspiring. On bedrest at home and now caring for babies, I missed how dirty the streets really are. I missed all the smells and trash. I missed the allies and the panhandlers. I missed the world. But it still exists and I still live in it. And now there are two more. Two more people who live in it. I hope that some day my girls can be inspired by random trash and side streets. I have a lot of work to do before we get there, but we will.
mypapercrane.com's Heidi posted a picture of this amazing necklace last week and I just had to have one. So I emailed Jenna at www.soopajdelux.com to try and buy one. And the lovely email that I got in response offered to trade one for some stuff from my site, even though I totally wanted to pay for it!!!! So a trade was on. And I got this amazing package from her today. Not only did I get the big blue necklace for me, but she sent along two tiny ones for my tiny girls. See the picture, below. Beyond lovely, people are.
So once again, I am totally floored by how wonderful people can be. People who know you and people who don't know you. I can't wait for the day when the tiny girls can wear these lovely little pieces of art.
So check out www.soopajdelux.com to see more.
Before this package came today, I was drifting a little, worrying about my irrregular contractions and wondering if I was feeling the passengers move enough today. But then these little pieces of art and kindness from a stranger made me bounce back. Whoohoo! I added a new item to the jewelry page: Squished Penny Necklaces and may even get around to emailing everyone from last week back tonight. I say may because I am trying to limit my sitting up to a minimum because my poor feet are swelling and I must be free of the swell for my doctor's appointment tomorrow.
Bouncing back. It is easy. Watch me.
Yesterday, I found myself swirling down the drain. Swirling, swirling, swirling. Yesterday was the second day in a row that I worked from home this week. The second day in a row that I didn't go out into the invisible wall of heat that DC has been this past week. The second day that I didn't change out of my sleep pants. The second day that I did my work in the little corner of our apartment, with the TV on. Yesterday, my feet were so swollen that I couldn't wear shoes.
So by last night, I was swirling down the drain. It was so easy to get there, too. And I know that things like not showering and having the insipid daytime TV on in the background made it worse worse worse.
I went to bed last night, not thinking I would ever be happy again. Really. I did. Isn't that lame? I let these feelings spill over into the my future. Spill over into what it will be like to be home with two tiny girls.
But, get this... this morning I woke up completely fine. There is magic in the bounce back. Amazing magic. I woke up rested and not swollen and ready for the day. I thought, if only it could have been like this when I was depressed years ago. Morning. Wake up. Pow! All better. Is it the power of the tiny girls inside my tummy? Did they spirit away my swirling in the night? If so, thank you tiny girls.
I spent some time this morning thinking of things that will make me happy again when the girls get here. First is shoes. Yes, shoes. I can't wait to have my normal feet back so that I can wear my cute shoes. I know that sounds silly. But if you are a Mary Janes girl, you know what I mean. I am sick of wearing the ugly sneakers like when I was the biggest fat girl. I want to slip my feet into shoes that don't match the rest of my clothes. I want to be free of these huge feet. Another thing is running. I want to be able to run again. I want to feel my muscles move and work like they should. Like the best machine in the world.
There is loveliness in the loneliness of a nearly empty bus when you are running late to work. I can see my pink and blue sneakers in the big bus mirror and my feet swing swing to new words and sounds from Suki and I almost wonder how this rainy world could get better. And this is a repeat repeat of things I have said or thought before, but skinny boys are pretty and even more so when they have pink cheeks in June.
Yesterday, Jeff said, remember when we got off the plane in London at Heathrow and rather than leave with our luggage to begin our vacation, we just sat in the airport. We had only planned that far. Off the plane and now what? It didn't last long, maybe only 30 minutes, maybe less. But there we were, regrouping in this new environment. It is a good memory, one in which we both were feeling this slight fear of what to next. So we just sat there holding hands, sleepy after a night of no sleep on our first plane over the ocean. We talked about just going to sleep right there, we were so tired. Instead we got on the Tube, picking it over other options of getting to our hotel on a Monday morning at 7am. I remember exiting the Tube station, after picking one of 5 exits at random and looking up to see our hotel right there. And even though our room wasn't supposed to be ready until 2pm, I asked nicely and we got it right then and went right up and went to sleep. Not at all upset that the first few hours of our first vacation in another country would be spent sleeping. I remember how happy we were that we had made all the right choices without getting upset at each other the way people may do when they are stressed and tired. I think this is what it will be like when the tiny girls get here. We will look at each other and remember that morning in London when we were exhausted from no sleep and didn't have a clue what to do next and how if we work together, things usually are fine.
I know that bringing home two infants is nothing like going on vacation to London. :) And that comparing them might make me sound a little naive. But I just think all the years that Jeff and I have been together have made it so that we are able to face things with this sense of calm. But it only works together. I don't think either of us can get there without the other. It makes me wonder when reading the baby books... who are these men who have to be told that their wives need help with new babies? How do these men written about in these books function in their marriages? And who are these women who would think to have babies or even lives with people who aren't complete partners? I mean really? How do these people function in their separate pods in their separate lives, all the while pretending to be together? Jeff wonders these things too, because all of the books about fatherhood that he has read spend all this time reminding men that their wives need help with new babies. We are too modern. Him and I, I fear we are.
My world smells like cake today. I have no idea why.
Last night, Jeff and I fell alseep at 5:30 with all the windows open. It was lovely. We napped for hours, getting up in time for guilty pleasure TV, American Idol and The Amazing Race. During our nap, I dreamt that I was trying to download the babies. Not on a computer, but just out in the world. I couldn't download them, though, because I didn't know their file names. And their paths were long and shadowy. Like their file name paths were hard to see, not their life paths.
When I woke up I thought about how the words 'file' and 'life' have the same letters in them. Weird.
I am new car smell.
This weekend made me feel way too adult. Which is funny considering I am 31. Jeff and I went out to the suburbs to buy a car. We took the metro and then planned to take a bus the rest of the way, but found a shuttle to Alexandria Toyota. And weeks and weeks of reading Consumer Reports and learning about all the cars on the market and doing research paid off in the form of a pretty indigo Toyota Matrix. Her name is Mabel and she looks like a big grape/blueberry gumball. And our 4 years without a car (by choice) are now over. And I am a little sad that I don't hate cars anymore. Mabel is a guilty pleasure.
And I learned that I am a right little deal maker considering that we acquired Mabel for 2k less than the sticker price. We were smart and bought a car that was within our means and Jeff only wished for the Prius a tiny bit when we went to see the cars on the lot.
So far, having a car in the city isn't too hard. We haven't had a hard time parking it yet, but I am sure that will change considering we live in Adams Morgan. But for now, the whole thing has been pretty painless. Well, except for the pain of giving up my hatred for cars. But my growing tummy tells me this is a good thing.
Other things. I didn't gain any weight last week. This is an ok thing. I have gained 25 pounds total so far. And I am halfway there. Any bets on how much gained I will get through this with? I am thinking 45 pounds gained. We will see. Last week, I was feeling really heavy. This morning, I got out of bed easily, no heavy feeling at all. Weird. It comes and goes, that plump feeling. Once again, I will say this is because I know what it is like to be really fat. So this is nothing!
Tomorrow I am 19 weeks pregnant. This is what is happening with the babies: >>At 15 centimeters crown to rump, and weighing eight ounces, your babies are getting big! This week, permanent teeth buds are forming behind the milk teeth buds.>> I wish my tummy were bigger and more round. I know I should be happy right now that it isn't. Because while it is pretty and would make me look more pregnant. I know that two months from now, I will be complaining of the big round tummy.
This morning, in the elevator leaving home, I thought that I had forgotten something. Then it hit me, I have forgotten the babies! Then I laughed because I can't forget the babies, they are inside of me. Silly yeti.
Things I love this morning.
:: Getting my new sneakers splashed with rain water. The girl next to me at the bus stop was horrified at her newly wet feet. I was elated and jumped back like it was a game.
:: The sound of the violin. But not the sound of the violin played by old people, but the sound of the violin played by the young. The way a violin can be used just as a guitar would be. Also the words chronical and accordian.
:: The way that cold rain can so suddenly become giant snowflakes. Rain is a thing and snow is people.
:: The way this boy on the bus was so worried about making sure he got off at his stop. And how his dirty sneakers didn't touch the floor when he sat down.
New podcast has been posted.
Seamonsters Restaurant Fuel Podcast #2 -- 3/6/05 -- 25 minutes long!
I tried my italk this morning, but the street was too too loud. I will have to try it again on the inside world. I talked a little about how when you are pregnant, you get so used to being 16 weeks pregnant, but that doesn't last long at all and before you know it (tomorrow) you have to get used to being 17 weeks pregnant and it moves so so fast. Like a rollercoaster once you get over the first hill. Today, my world is so lovely. All warm and breezes. It makes me want to ride a rollercoaster. It makes me want to see the place past fear. The excitement of it.
[recording podcast segment about this... see future broadcast for more]
I am rediscovering my favorite things. The joys of the second trimester are not only that I am not throwing up in anyone's garden, but also that I can enjoy myself and everything I loved before I got pregnant. Like: music and the breeze and colors. Before last week, all of those things were kind of sickly because I was sickly. But now, I feel like the world is alive and I can enjoy it again. I put Suki on shuffle and she reminds me of all of my old friends. Maritime and Miss Kitten and anything else by Davey (The Promise Ring). It makes me want to name all of my babies Davey. [who the hell is Davey, anyway? http://www.maritimesongs.com]
These past few months made me think there was no way that I could enjoy pregnancy. But here I am singing it's praises like a silly convert. I wonder if biologically, this happy time happens so that women don't hurt themselves. I wasn't sure I could take another day of being dizzy and pukey. Now I walk around with my hand on my back or tummy and I am a huge cliche. And it is ok.
i am amazed by my own level of clever. ::::::i said this to someone today, "we are complicated men, you and i." for some reason it made me laugh big big.::::::
For a while my hair was fading to a very pale pink and lavendar. I figured that since I couldn't re-bleach, I would just do with the pale colors I was becoming. I have to say that I also thought, well, I am becoming a mom, I won't need to be so crazy with my appearance anymore. I have to say this was just a little bit of depression that made me think that way.
On Sunday, Jeff took a bath to soak his poor broken toe. This gave me a reason to hang out in the bathroom for a while and talk to him. Hmm, what can I do in the bathroom for that long? I searched through the linen closet for my hair dyes and found one that I had never used. Atomic Pink! As long as I don't bleach, I am fine. So I went at it. And now I have this full head of Atomic Pink hair with like 2 inches of brown roots. I feel like a rock star. Haha.
I just went outside to get my lunch and the sun is happy, but the air is still cold. Spring is still dressed like winter. And her wind blows my pink hair everywhere. And I am the only pink haired pregnant girl on the streets of downtown Washington. And this makes me feel special even though I am special without those things. But this makes me feel like a giant ball of joy. I am a force of joy. I am. I am. A force. I am.
look at me shrink. now, look at me grow. look at me age. and the world moves around me.
My daily walks have turned into bus rides and I now love riding the bus. If i sit far enough back, I can make it so that my feet don't touch the floor of the bus and that is magical. Suki sings to me on shuffle from her little white and silver frame and I dangle my feet. Lalala. The whole ride, I am itchin to get off and walk the next block home or to work, just so I can move move move. And I do, like a race horse, I'm out the gate, surrounded by cold bus air and people and I love my world.
I have been thinking of the things that I want to teach my kids to love or do or appreciate. Here's my list so far: color, feeling their muscles work, jumping on the bed, making noise, laughing big and loud and deep and for real, animals (but specifically small details about animals, like a seal's teeth or a bird's feet or a dog's nose), calling old people dude (it always takes them off guard), weather (good and bad). Oh there is so much more.
Things I wanna teach my kids are bad and should be avoided: the circus, joining the military, organized religion, smoking, most mass market fiction, hunting, the lottery, the actress meryl streep. I am sure there is more, but those are the most important. But really, I don't want to be the kind of parent who ever tells their kids they can't do something. If my kids have some crazy idea, I want them to be able to see it through. No matter what it is (unless it is in the list above). Like if my girls become nuns who play the lottery and love meryl streep, I will be so disappointed. I am being funny, but I really don't like the selflessness of giving your life to God or your country. I don't want to raise selfish people, but I do want my children to love life enough to want to take it and make it theirs and enjoy it and live it. I know that in America, these are not popular views, but I can't curb how I feel about those things. END RANT. hehe.
My clones should be about 2-1/2 inches each now. My tummy is starting to grow. And I am in love with the world today. It moves all around me and inside of me and nothing could be better.
i saw her again just now. my pretend grandma. she was standing on the corner with a cup. i never know if she is collecting money because she doesn't look homeless. and i see her on her way to work in the morning. i have seen her on her way to work and panhandling off and on for 10 years. we always talk. we always smile.
merry christmas, she said as I walked past her to the CVS. Merry Christmas, I replied. The whole time in the CVS, I am thinking about her cup and whether or not she is actually panhandling or just standing there in the freeze with a cup. And I wonder if at 74, she even knows. So, I take $5 out of my wallet and make my way out to see her. I walk up to her with my $5 and try to give it to her.
No, she says. You need it for your holiday. No, I don't, I say. Now I am getting worried that I am offering money to someone who is indeed NOT panhandling. No, really, this is for you, I say. To this she says, you know what I want you to do with that? I want you to have a christmas party for all the little kids. She says this with a twinkle in her eye. I ask her if I can give her a hug. I do. And i whisper, it is nice to see you. I whisper this and in my arms I feel my own grandma. Fraile and soft. I pull away and my pretend grandma's eyes are sparkley with tears. This is a bad tv moment, but it is ok.
If I ever were the captian of a great ship, it is today. The air outside is cold and wet and the rain spits on you like it is jumping from waves. The cuffs of my pink courdory pants are wet and dirty and I like it that way. I kept trying to hail a cab this morning, so that I could get to work early. But they were all full. All little pods with people inside, traveling across the ocean, while I am the captain of my own little vessel, navi navi the high seas. I felt like I was trying to hail a tug boat. After a while, I gave up. When I give up one thing, I usually give up all of them. So down my umbrella went. And I let the rain fall on me freely, like some kind of insane girl with pink and blue hair. Carrying an umbrella in a storm, rather than using it. This action made my panda ears ploppy today. Plop plop. The silliness of wearing Mary Janes in the rain soon dawned on me as my spotted socks began to chill with rain.
I am the captain of a great ship. I am the captain of a tiny boat. I am the captain of my future and my self.
I feel like those three lines are the answers to give all people when they have problems. I wish someone would have told me those things when I was, say, 16. I wish someone would have told me those things at 24. And now at 31, I tell myself and you and we all can be the captain.
I almost wrote those 3 lines are the answers to give all girls who have problems. But, I thought about it and realized that we are so beyond that. I am so beyond that. Boys are just as worthy of advice as girls. It is funny because while I know that mostly females read my blog, it is boys who fill my real day to day life. That is a tangent. Thank you for following me on it.
here's another picture from my trip... me at stonehenge... jeff took this and it is really lovely how clear i am in the foreground and then the little stonehenge in the background. props to jeff for his amazing framing. props to me for wearing orange and pink together. props to stonehenge for being really old. and dude, old navy should totally buy this as a marketing photo... cause both the scarf and jacket are from there. fat girls everywhere would run out and buy orange scarves andpink velvet jackets. i wrote that sentence and then kept a bit yucky.,.. i think i might not think of myself as a fat girl anymore. weird. wow. rad.
*************************************
backbackback.
i am back from my first overseas holiday. we had a wonderful time, i missed my apartment and dog and friends. took a total of 257 pictures... so i will upload some of those soon, prolly after my volunteering this morning.
we fetch archie tonight. i hear he has been spending a lot of time in front of the window, sighing. poor chap. i think he grandma will be happy to be done with him, though. haha.
ok. more later.
ok, here is the first picture... jeff and i on our first night in london... can't really see, but we are at trafalgar square.
hihihi
hope you don't think i am not enjoying my vacation... someone wrote to say that i sounded lukewarm about it. i am not. i think i am just realizing a lot about my own city of washington, dc. that it suits me fine. which isn't to say that london isn't lovely. it is. old and lovely.
today we did some markets.... one of which was camden town, which someone who is in the know told us to just avoid because while people say it is cool. it really isn't. she was right right right! i think my tastes in clothes and things have totally gotten weird because i walked around for all this time without finding anything to buy. and this was supposed to be my big big shopping day. everything just seemed too, well, trying to be cool. i finally found this lady making jewelry with guitar picks and army men. pretty cool. i got a bracelet. i also got loads of knee socks, which might become my newest fashion. what else? have i told you about the cadbury? oh my. cadbury machines everywhere everywhere. all i think about is chocolate. the window of our hotel looks out over a room where women are making clothes. i like to watch them. i am sure they don't enjoy my staring.
got an email today that the q and not u venue has changed. lovely. haha. and they are playing with red monkey. that is rad, though.
tomorrow is the portobello market, which was recommended... and the Imperial War muesuem for Jeff. Also, another little gallery since they are far better than the big uns.
The lobby of our hotel this evening was full of scottish santas. And one guy in a scooby doo suit. Funny. Funny. Super funny.
more tomorrow.
9:25. In the Burger Pig basement again. I just bought £12 worth of socks on the street. British flags and fruit animals with faces.That is the kinda girl I am.
Today we did a day trip to stonehenge and Salisbury and Bath. All were lovely, but the 3 hour bus ride home was ughughugh. We spent £7 on gormet chocolates made by French hands. Um... yum. Jeff got these little owls that looked like dark chocolate, but had hazelnut in them. To this I sang a little song, *you and me at the chocolatier*.
Stonehenge was lovely , but we only had like 30 miuntes there including shopping. I can't wait to see what I bought. haha. I do know that I got these little stonehenge earrings, but upon closer inspection they look like little silver pants. Pantshenge. We have only been here for 4 days, but it feels like a lifetime and I keep forgetting I am not in Washington, DC. I had a real British meal today, sausagages and mash. pretty good. not bad and all that.
Tomorrow we will have a more free day of hopefully cooler markets than the Covent Garden, which I call Crap Garden. And we will look for the Rough Trade record shop. Sunday we are seeing Q and Not U, which is funny and rad considering that we have seen them a million times and they are from DC.
I am currently loving the colors orange and pink TOGETHER! Insane. Jeff is falling in love with modern art. I go to the shops before the attractions, which is particularly american of me, but it makes more sense. See what the gift shop thinks is important and then go to it. Limited time and all that. Do you know that I can't even remember what I had for dinner last night?
Remember all that talk I was doing yesterday about fog. Dude, I saw real fog today. Over the moors or what-ev-er (accented). I can't believe that people live there and feel their ways through that stuff. It is lovely and silly all at once. I search for you through the fog and I just keep finding myself. I thought that the whole time we drove through it. Thick and thick and thick.
Today, my shirt says, *I spread my wings and brush a million other worlds.* If I were in the Miss America pagent (if it still exists), and they asked me my number one dream. I would say, to spread my wings and brush a million other worlds. Or to be a weight loss trainer to the stars or a kindergarten teacher. Or perhaps all at once.
More tomorrow. My jammy pants are calling me. Goodnight from London and all that.
11:17 pm. I am in the basement of the Burger King in London again, trying to not continually type the misplaced caps lock key on these cursed European KEYboards... there i go again.
Let's talk a wee bit about identity, shall we? I have been in London for 3 days. I have never left America before. Wanna know how many times I have been mistaken for British, French, German, anything other than American? Loads. One kid from Lousianna tried to take my picture on the London Eye, thinking I was some crazy British girl with blue and pink hair. So funny. aMERICAN teenage girls whisper about the cool british girl's hair. A young couple from Virigina shoot me the meanest look in a donut shop. British boy tells me my hair is bloody brilliant and is then shocked when he hears my accented Thank you. Everyone told me that I would fit in in London, which so far has been true and yet not true. Suit men and women marvel at me in the tube (is marvel the word for negative staring?) and teenagers smile at me in the comic shop. But overall, Londoners in my three days of travel have been very much colorless, grey, all tweedy trench coats and proper propers. Perhaps other parts of the city will be different. Either way, I AM my own nation. Where are you from they will ask and I will create a new accent all my own and say, Seamonster_land. Yes, Seamonster underscore land.
Let's talk more about my trip. Oh wait. Let's talk about weight. HaHA. Before we left America, I successfully ate four, yes four pieces of pecan pie. Brilliant. Stress, yummy, but horrible. I arrived in London after a 7 hour flight with swollen ankles and a puffy face. I have no idea how much weight I gained from the pie, but I felt horrible. London hasn't done much for my weight loss journey either and it sucks because, well the food is awful. I make up for that by hitting the Cadbury machines everytime I see one. Yes, Cadbury Machines! I even got some mini eggs for 20p from a bubble gum type machine. Anyway. I am pretty sure that the 224 that I weighed before I left home is totally frelled and I am back up to like 227 or 8 or 9 or oh, damn it. 230. I HAVE HAVE walked and walked and walked so maybe it all works out, but we will just have to see when we get home. This whole tiny lapse, gain has made me feel awful in a physical way, not emotional, of course because I am a strong girl who has blue hair and an orange scarf and mary janes on my feet. Why is it that i always fall back on my own personal style to feel better. aM i like vapid or what? Just call me Cordy. If you get that reference, you are rad.
OK. So. London. Food = bad. People = slightly boring. Things I saw today = not to complain... but um... bored now. The British Muesem is totally over-rated and full of stolen crap. The Tate Modern art gallery. Um. Designer purses for £75#!? Lame lame mclame. The things that everyone told me were must-sees were totally worthless and tame. Get me away from here, I'm dying. But the leather chairs for sitting in the Tate Modern were brill. Comfy and made me sleep.
Tomorrow is a new attempt at our day trip to Stonehenge and Bath. I am a little concerned that it will also be a bust since it is planned and a touristy thing and the best things we have done have been accidents and not touristy things. But who knows.
I was just thinking that I love the way my eyes feel in their sockets and I am not even on drugs. I swear it. Think about it right now. How your eyes feel in their sockets and then think about where you are in life. That is what I am doing right now in the basement of a Burger King in London, with the smell of onion rings wafting around me like some crazy fog. I am in a moor of fast food weather. LIke the heroine in a Bronte book, you are my charges and my living quarters are this PC lab and the tiny hotel room up the street. And I am thinking about where I am in life. And I am unsure and so sure all at once. Silly girl, I am. My french watch says it is 0:03. I think that means midnight. This is the 0:03 time of my life. Secretly past midnight and I am not even asleep or sleepy.
Half way through my vacation and I am sorta looking forward to both the rest of the trip and being home again. I want to be able to work on my weight loss journey for real, yo! And I can't do that here here here. I also haven't made anything in days and days and my hands are getting bored.
:::::: i am ice and clouds :::::::
no, really. i am.
i walked out of the His Dark Materials stage play having forgotten that I wasn't in Washington. Three hours in the world of Lyra and Pantaliamon and Will and Dust will do that to you. This evening has been a series of accidental loveliness. First, on our way to the Tate Modern this morning, we walked past the National Theater, which is funny since I hate theater. No really. I hate it. Anyway,, I usually wouldn't have given it a second glance... but then I saw the poster for the first part of the His Dark Materials stage plays. I started yelping and jumping and it was like my vacation had finally begun. We ran into the theater and of course as Americans, we asked for what we wanted, tickets for tonight. Smug British girls tells us that it is sold out and the first tickets she has is for ummm.... January. Bugger all. Then she tells us we can que up for some 20 or so day seats on Friday morning at say, 9. Hmm... Ok. I look at the poster outside and it says that the play isn't even playing on Friday. Back in I go and find the cutest ticket boy and ask him. He smiles at me and says, let us see if there are any open seats for tonight since last you asked. Umm. Let us, I say. Oh yes, 2 tickets in the 5th row for tonight. View is a bit restricted at times, side of the stage. £10 each. Whoohoo! I say. I make my way out into middle of the sea cold that is the edge of the Thames and smile a tiny evil smile to show Jeff that I have a secret. Tickets! Anyway, so something we didn't even know existed (well sorta) hours ago is now in our grasp. How you read the His Dark Materials books by Philip Pullman? Well, you need to and you will know why this is a big deal and why I am going on and on about it.
So, the stage play was 3 hours long and combined the first book with half of the second book and the daemons were these amazing puppets with actors in black doing the voices and Lyra was spunk spunk and Wil was spot on and wow wow. The theater was full full of little British kids and teenagers and to hear an 8 year old British boy talk to his brother about the stage play of a series of 3 books about the trials of a girl who must fight the church to save the world and lots of other things like portals to other worlds... wow, amazing.
AND before this amazing play, we didn't have time for the Tate Modern, who does when they are on the way to the theater, afterall? .... so we stop by the Saatchi Gallery, which we had gotten a postcard from a man named Mikee on the street about earlier in the day. We had been waffles about going there since it was £8.50 and not free and they seemed to have street teams of folks to get us in. How good could it be? Um. Amazing. Can you say, real dead shark in a huge tank as art? Um... frelling amazing.
lalalala. check it out:
http://www.saatchi-gallery.co.uk/county/county.htm
the shark art is huge and huge and huge... it is by Damien Hirst, check him out.
Ok... so here I am, 11:34 in the basement of a Burger King in London, writing to you. The wall of the Tube said "I am ice and clouds". I put that in my mind and take the stairs to the street...a cold wind blows up my courdory skirt and I feel like the captain of a great ship. And I am glad I wore the tights instead of the knee socks. I am a good captain. I am ice and clouds.
"I've been weak, but it sure beats being strong." -- Mary Lou Lord on her new record, Baby Blue.
OK. IN two days, I am off off off to London with the hubby. First ever trip over the seas. Do keep places orders, they will all be shipped on Monday, November 29th.
My main problem today is trying to decide if I should go see Finding Neverland or the Spongebob movie tonight. I live such a tough life. I might not be excited enough to see either... hmm. But i want want want to go to the movies, so we will see.
more later, aligator.
Today I am wearing my first ever, and I mean ever, skirt that is NOT plus-sized. It just says XL on it and I bought it at Nordstroms beacuse it was on sale sale sale. It has a tiny pocket on the front. And what's more... it is slightly above my knee in length. IF there were any question as to whether the super fat girl is gone, there isn't one now.
Last night, I spent the whole evening packaging ninja necklaces in these little clear bags with silkscreened tags. So professional... pictures to come. I also watched my pretty, funny girls, the Gilmore Girls. Which makes me think this morning about what makes someone pretty and funny and why they are so important. Then i was wondering where smart fits in with pretty and funny and then I realized that smart is the foundation of pretty and funny. When I was depressed, I used to hate pretty and funny people, now I can't get enough of them. Now, I adore pretty and funny. I am a broken record with the pretty and funny.
This morning, a little birdie reminded me of my favorite band, Belle and Sebastian and I realized that I haven't listened to them in like 6 months. Hello, Suki, please play Belle and Sebastian. Now I am trying to squeeze as much of B&S out of her as I can before she runs out of juice. I started with the EP, "I am waking up to Us" because I love that and it is only 3 songs, but 3 GREAT songs. Starting Sunday night, all the boys around me will be british and also the girls, too. Hopefully, I will find a cute cybercafe in London so that I can blog it all.
THis all reminds me of the conversation that Brian, Jeff and I had about a certain Scottish actor's private parts. A conversation which included the word "dong" repeated over and over and over again by me over breakfast in a gay steakhouse. I love my life.
Oh, dyed my hair AGAIN last night. It is now blue and green and pink, but much much darker. It looks a little like fish scales or the color that meat turns when it starts to go bad. maybe not. I used the electric blue this time rather than the blue haired freak since the blue haired freak is slightly pale. Anyway, my hands are all blue, like I am a mechanic fixing something with blue juice rather than black oil.
I am going to enjoy my Belle and Sebastian. Old friends. Pretty and funny, but also smart.
British girls have been serenading (sp?) me all morning. Heavenly and Helen Love and Comet Gain. It makes me wonder if Suki knows my travel plans. Then I realize that no, it is just her lovely shuffle songs mode. I take every corner like a dance floor. I know I tell you that all the time, but this morning, I really did. Lalalala. I am all velvety and pink today. My clothes, not my skin. Happiness surges through me and I realize that I love my walks to work best of all my time alive because it is exercise and feels so good. Blood pumping through my body. I wonder who I am and how I became this lovely girl. Perhaps I am possessed by some happy demon. A good witch or something.
I smile at everyone I pass and they look at me like I am insane because I am pink and they are grey. A woman with very fat ankles does not suffer my foolishness and I want to hug her to tell her she is pretty but could also be more pretty if she smiled. I think about how I love pretty so much than angry now. Pretty. Angry. I think about the words and how they sound the same, but mean the different. Pretty angry. Pretty. Angry. They tick tock in my head like a big old clock. I remember being angry. It makes me smile because it is such a distant memory. Mary Lou Lord coos to me now. She isn't british, but she is lovely and pretty. I never thought I would adore pretty, but I do so with exurberance. I never thought I would think of myself as pretty. But I do and it is like fireworks. Whatever that means.
second entry of the day:
brian imed me that he saw a guide dog at the airport, and that it was eating everyone's food. i copied his IM, but then lost it somehow... so this might not be what he wrote. i am picturing a seeing-eye dog, happily eating someone's cake or possibly some chicken nuggets. and everyone is happy and smiling because guide dogs seem so ignored. because you aren't supposed to pet them because they are at work. and i always worry that they have to pee. guide dogs are so helpful, but seem a little burdened, so the idea of them eating everyone's food is so marvelous. i want to throw a party for guide dogs.
someone is playing a saxophone outside and I can hear it up here on the 9th floor. It sounds like a funeral or a government song. maybe it is Taps or whatever. I don't know much about saxophone playing. Anyway, I want to have a party for guide dogs. They will dance and play ball and eat cake.
first entry of the day:
Something I have been saying lately...
Floss is the new lipstick. Well, it is true. I mean, I never wore lipstick, but it has totally been replaced by floss and if more women would replace their lipstick with floss, we would have cleaner gums. I just don't understand women who carry makeup with them. Well, I don't understand wearing it at all. I have been thinking about this a lot lately. I must look really pale all the time and I wonder if women who wear makeup think there is something wrong with me. I have been wanting to know how it feels to be other people lately, how other people see themselves... and me I guess. I am not even thinking about specific people, just looking at people on the street, I think, I wonder what it feels like to be that person. How very Quantum Leap of me.
I have been going to sleep so early lately. Last night, 10pm, I was out. Night before, 9:30, no need to even count my sheep. Sleep sleep sleep. I wonder what is going on. If I was in high school, I would worry that I had Mono. Haha. Everyone was always getting Mono in high school, which is funny because I kissed very few people in high school, maybe like, 3. I don't remember kissing being a huge deal in high school. How did I start talking about kissing? Once we tried to curse a girl in our class so that she wouldn't get better grades than my friend and get to be the Valedictorian over her. The girl came down with Mono. She still ended up Valedictorian. The Mono couldn't bring her down. Dude, I was a total geek in high school.
What else? I just ate a snickers. I don't even like snickers. I ate it to stay awake, which is weird because I have been going to bed early like a grandma. Curse that damn snickers. I have to remember to drink water next time I am sleepy or chew gum, instead of eat empty calories. Ugh. My new walk to work is 1.37 miles, the old walk was slightly less than a mile. So... it looks like I have added almost an extra mile a day.
My legs are like melting ice blocks.
Today I am wearing my ancient Twin Peaks t-shirt. I bought this shirt in high school even before I got my first boyfriend. Haha. Are you sick of me telling you what I am wearing? Does it make me slightly boring? My mary janes are green and my socks are striped black and pink. Oh, there I go again. I am a silly monkey.
Tomorrow is my normal craft fair at the American Legion hall with my sister. I hear my niece has pink eye, I am wondering what that will do for sales? Free pink eye with every purchase! I will try to take some pictures. I think it is going to be slightly surreal since I have never been in an American Legion hall and have never done a normal craft fair. I am hoping to be pleasantly surprised. Either way, I will get to go to and pick up more tshirts on the way home so that I can finish the "We are so doomed" shirts. I think everyone will want one as part of their winter wardrobes.
Sunday is my Jeffrey's birthday. He will be 30! And I will finally get to give him his presents. We will spend the day waiting for our new HD TV to be delivered. How Jeff decided to spend the returned deposit from our old apartment. Amazing that we got anything much less so much back considering we didn't even clean the place.
I know I have more to write... but can't think of what it is right now. More later, my bunnies. Thanks for reading. I am glad you exist.
An Indian man from Califorina (only know these things because he told me) stopped me literally in the middle of the street to ask me who was going to win the election. I said, Kerry, but it is just wishful thinking. I have no data. We talked a bit about what he thought and he told me about the 33 different possible outcomes of the electoral college because he has a background in statistics and it looks like Bush has more of a chance to win. He seemed to be for Kerry though because he said something negative about the Bible Belt. haha. Then he asked me what I do, all of this conversation happening in the street and he was just another person not a pollster or anything. I said I am a web developer. He said, really? How old are you? And I said, 31. He said, no way! I thought I was getting the early 20s opinion by asking you. There is no way you are 31, i thought maybe 22! We laughed and said good day.
How come this happens to me so often? I wonder if I have a super power that makes people think I am 22. And if so, how can I use this power for good? This literally happens to me like once a week. Last week, my dad's nurse at the hospital asked him if having a teenager was driving him crazy. He looked at her like she was insane... He said, you mean my daughter here? She said yes, to which I whispered, I'm 31. This isn't a bad thing of course.... it is just strange and makes me wonder if I am witch.
So, I loved this conversation with this strange californian indian man. He was nice and loves democracy.
Halloween Friday and I have so far seen a safari man and a park ranger and a demon headed guy dressed like a teenager; all hoodie and band t-shirt and jeans. I have only walked 5 blocks and now I am looking at everyone to discern whether or not they are in costume or their regular person.
I think of Donnie Darko and E.T. and then try to think of all the other movies set on Halloween. If I were a director, all of my movies would be set on Halloween. No matter what the movie was about. You always get a sense of the surreal on Halloween.
A metro worker, oldish black gentleman smiles bright and asks if I am a child for Halloween. I say no this is who I always am. He points to my hair, in panda ears. I say, nope, just me. Are you a Metro employee for Halloween, I ask? And he winks and says -- I wish it was only today.
Suki is singing The Mountain Goats to me and only me and I get out my pen to write this all down
Pretty Girls Make Graves and Death Cab for Cutie, 9:30 club, October 23
It is late. And I am standing standing among a crowd of the young. Watching. Them and the stage and you and me. We have once again broken the no 9:30 club rule. But tonight I don't let my age discourage me from dancing my ass off.
Layers are off already. Dark green polyester retro retro bought for you a long time ago, pockets badged up with mypapercrane and plainmabel. You never liked it, glad I kept it for me. Lime green gap cardi is also in my arms and I feel like I am carrying half of my closet around. Pretty girl squeezes past me and whispers, "I like your t-shirt" as lots do when I wear my black and pink q and not u shirt. They are big here now, which is rad.
The singer from Pretty Girls Makes Graves is older than I thought she would be. And plumper and reminds me a little of my mother when I was little. Or perhaps a little of myself. It is encouraging that someone so normal can be on stage like this and have a bunch of people sing along. You are flashing me that Lego smile because this is the band you are here to see tonight. I think I am more here to see Death Cab, but as with all good life-changing moments, I don't know what the night will bring.
So the Pretty Girls Make Graves singer is on stage and I am thinking about my own situation. About who I am and who i want to be and who I am becoming. It is a good place to be, and good things to think about. I wonder what kind of job I could do where I would be making so many people happy. I start to think about what I want to do when i grow up, even though at 31, I am offically grown up.
These thoughts take me back to this line:
An unusual activity will bring about an interesting turn of events.
It was in my horoscope on Friday. I read it after the "Incident of the Lost Cell Phone". See, Thursday night, I found a cell phone on the ground. It was a Virgin Mobil pay as you go phone. I picked it up because, well, I am a scavenger. Anyway, long story short. I got the phone back to it's owner, who wasn't who I expected it would be. I got it back to it's owner who was actually extremely thankful that I picked it up and got it back to him. He and his friend brought me a card about how cats sometimes leave dead mice as gratitude, along with a nice note about the state of honest people. There was this moment, in the lobby of my office, standing there in my yeti shirt and lemon lime scarf, looking so french wearing a scarf inside, when I handed this phone to this person I didn't know and I got a small yellow envelope and the biggest smile. I was a hero. For a moment, I was a tiny hero. And I thought... I like making people happy. I really do. I like surprise helping people. It was such a small thing, but then again such a huge thing.
An unusual activity will bring about an interesting turn of events.
So the whole night, I am thinking about who I want to be and what I want to do. Between bands, I turn to you and ask you if you think I would be a good elementary school art teacher. Of course, you say. That would combine my love for helping people with my love for art. Interesting. I put the idea in my pocket and wait for the next band to take the stage.
We are packed in here and you are standing behind me, holding my hand. Death Cab for Cutie is playing and the lead singer looks like Fred Flintstone. "The glove compartment is inacturately named and everybody knows it." I can hear you singing louder than the band and suddenly our past floods through me and I am overwhelmed with the years and years of singing along with bands in dark smelly clubs with you. I look up and you seem so tall, even though you haven't gained any height. You touch my waist and it is like you are touching a new part of me. You are literally touching a part of me that was once completely hidden behind so many other layers. Perhaps this is figurative and literal. So, these past 10 years and perhaps nearly what 500 or 600 nights of dark loud singing along come flooding back to me and it is amazing, these hours spent with you.
Stiff legs make it hard to walk home, but we are energized. Talk talk talk. We talk about future plans and having a kid and where we want to be. The idea about becoming an art teacher comes up again, then you are saying the most bloody brilliant thing I have ever heard. You totally solve my problem of what to be when I grow up. You say I would be a great kindergarten teacher. It is something I have never ever thought about. But it makes so much sense. As my niece, Brittney says, you would be good at that because you are sooooo fun! It isn't like I don't want to be a web developer like I am now, I have just been trying to think of a reason to go back to college part time and didn't want to unless there was something I really wanted to do. And after a night of dancing and singing in the smoke smoke dark, one of hundreds of such nights in our lives together, you figure it out.
It is 2 am and it is hard to sleep with the knowledge that you know who I should be and I know who you already are and 2 might soon make 3.
We wake up with plans plans plans and I am finally calm but not and it is perfect.
........night
we never see movies on week nights. at least not in the theater. but tonight we went to see Team America since Jake asked us to go. whoohoo. it was fun and funny. Thanks for getting us out of the house, Jake!
There was a preview for the Spongebob movie and Brian was like... that movie is totally you... which makes me wonder if my personality is really that of spongebob or spongebob and all his friends. i wouldn't mind if it was, it is just funny that i have never seen the show. It made me laugh that he said it though, that I might have the personality of a Sponagebob movie.
I had my first ever jalapeno pepper! yumnmy but scary, like well... i can't think of anything else yummy but scary. maybe sushi for the first time. maybe eating something alive. yummy but scary.
My mom and her co-workers had a good laugh about my army of clones skirt today. The best thing was when my mom asked me if I had worn that skirt to work... haha. I said, that is getting dressed up for work, dude. I heard all of her co-workers laugh. Her too. I enjoyed that, making my mother laugh.
The weekend is here and I am lively. Death Cab for Cutie on saturday. Doug is coming to visit. Rollercoastering on sunday. I will have a time. I will have a time time time.
.........morning
I am the craftiest craftser of the week in this week's Washington Citypaper. see page 48 for a picture of my ninjas! It is a small ad, but was free and sends to my classified ad on page 130. coolio.
I haven't written in days! Ok. Two days. ;)
Going to see I heart Huckabees tonight. For real this time. The commericals are getting better. More funny. I love the funny. I am a great laugher, I have been told.
Are you watching Lost? You should be. Tune in for the mystery, stay for the character development.
Farscape movie is on Sunday night. Jeff and I only have 18 more hours of season four to watch before then. Haha. No, for real, dog.
I think I might be totally redoing the store this weekend. Wish me luck.
Have I told you. I take every corner like a dance floor? I do. I do. I take every corner like a dance floor.
Treat yourself this weekend. Treat yourself everyday. I sound like Oprah, but I am way cooler. No, for real, I am.
I found you this morning. Across the mountain that is the center of our bed. You smelled of cigarrettes and sleeping dogs, which would be funny if I said we had neither. It was surprisingly nice. But considering sleeping dog is my favorite smell next to wood, not surprising at all, but just nice.
****
more later.
Listening to: Mountain Goats
Thinking about: the color purple and acorns
Dreaming about: blue hair
more later.
Here is one view from my new rooftop deck. You can't see everything from this one and the view is much more breathtaking at night. But here is the first picture:
And here is a picture that I took of Brian and I on the roof this afternoon. As usual, as I am told I don't look as happy or smilely as I really am. I can't smile on command. Plus, I was talking to Brian when I took this and the sun was in my eyes eyes eyes, so I am all small eyes. Brian looks all happy though. Sillly Brian, making me look not as happy because he looks so happy. I promise to the people who complain, I will try to post a picture of me smiling more.
Today was lovely. Jeff, Brian and I went to see Shaun of the Dead, which was very very enjoyable. Brian has now been redeemed for dragging us to see at least one very bad movie in the past few months. It wasn't his fault, but he was really wanting_needing this one to be funny. He got it! Lucky duck.
Tomorrow night we are all going to see the Mountain Goats, who i haven't seen in actual years. I hope he is still good. I love that new record, even though it is about divorce and very sad. I have been a busy busy girl lately. All party party. Well, not party, but busy fun outside of the house girl. I think it is because of October. It is my favorite month to be alive. To exist. To experience life.
Tonight we begin our crazy Farscape marathon. We have to watch all of season 4 in like 7 days. I have no idea how. We will see.
I looked for myself in a bathroom mirror today and couldn't find me. Haha. I just didn't recognize myself. I love that. I am always so used to seeing this huge fat girl in the mirror and when i see a smaller person, i wonder where I am. I worry sometimes about not being a fat girl anymore. I worry that I won't be pretty if I lose too much weight. That must sound funny to girls who fear being fat. That I fear being thin. But it is the truth and I must share it. But then I realize, no matter what, i will always still be a big girl and I love that. I can work hard to accomplish the weight loss, but still stay pleasingly plump and curvey and girly. So, I end up with the best of all worlds. A sense of accomplishment and still pretty pretty plump. I guess that is the upside of starting at nearly 300 pounds. Haha. I can always find a positive side to every frelling thing.
This is a strange time. A flux time. I am in flux. But you already knew that. Sorry to repeat. But it bares repeating. It is worth repeating. Repeat. Forward. Repeat and forward again. Move forward. Repeat. Don't be a still shark. You will die. Still sharks die. So keep moving and swimming. Ahead. Remember. Ahead. Ahead. Ahead. No matter where it takes you. Ahead is always the right way to go.
Hello to the boy on the orange bike. I didn't see you wave, but Jeff did.
Today I am wearing orange and red. Even my pants and shoes. Washington is so grey. Everyone wears grey. Colors make me happy. I wonder if there is a city somewhere where everyone wears colors that don't match. Is there a walky city where people are pretty? Maybe I mean lovely, and not pretty? Am I making sense? I am a silly yeti.
Sometimes my nonsense worries people. Do I worry you? I doubt it because you don't live with me. It only worries the people I live with. I always think of nonsense as negative capability. You know, like Keats. I am bouncy today. It is the weekend and I will dance my butt off tonight at the Q and not U show. And when they play Wet Works from the new record, Jeff will smile like he got legos for xmas. And I will have my hair in panda ears and all will be right with the world.
I think a lot about how when I was younger, I had no idea my life could be so good. I say that without even worrying that it will stop being so good. I worry not. Do you have wishes and dreams? Or have your surpassed them and need some more. Both are good places to be. The only bad place to be is sans wishes and dreams, never havaing had them at all. I am working on some new ones. Cooking up a plan for new wishes. They are forming slowly like ice in the freezer, but they are forming.
I am a positive yeti. Colorful, positive yeti.
I have been dreaming about people I used to know again, which makes me think about the geography of my life again. Where I have been and where I am going and who has been a stop on the way.
Last night's dreaming was very tactile. Like I dreamt of the way people used to feel. Like the softness of a hand or cheek or ripple of a favorite sweater. It was strange, comforting and exhausting. I saw a friend in an elevator in one dream and had to touch her hand before she knew it was me. And smells too. Like the way someone's apartment always smelled like something that I couldn't remember or place.
This morning, the air outside smelled of camping and hot dogs and it made me think of my years as a girlscout. Hair braided to fight off ticks. Sleeping outside with dozons of other girls. I didn't dream that far back, though. Just to high school and college.
I don't want to think that my subconcious mind is stuck in the past, but it keeps taking me there while I sleep. Does this happen to you?
On to something else: the worst thing about losing all this weight is how cold my hands are now that summer is over. My hands are soooo cold! I can't stand it. How can thin people stand being so cold?
I am making it a habbit of stopping at the CVS on my way to work now, not sure why. This morning, I was so happy to see the emergence of Halloween crap. No treat bags yet, but lots of skull plates and costumes. I picked out a new color to replace my blonde. It is natural reddish blonde. So by the end of the day, I will be a strawberry blonde with electric blue stripes. Bye bye my little pony hair. Hehe. I dig the idea that i change my hair colorS with the seasons. Summer was blonde and green,fall is auburn and blue.
So, I tried on my GAP winnings last night and guess what? They all frelling fit. Insane. Literally while I was buying them, I was disappointed that they wouldn't fit me until winter... but no way, even the size 16 skirt fits. I kept running around the house telling jeff to look. He was so funny, he said, "yes, i know, you are a normal sized girl" haha. Cause that is what I was saying. It made me think about last year when I worried that after pregnancy, I would be a "super sized mom" which is what women who weigh more than 300 pounds in pregnancy are lovingly called. Nope, super sized mom, I will not be. That was totally Yoda speak.
I am wearing this gignormous resin strawberry ring today and it is making it hard to type.
So, what do you have planned for the weekend? Another trip to Ikea is in my future, cause I tried to order bookshelves and a chair from the website and the Ikea website sucks cause they never have anything in stock. Belva is bringing me some children's sized shirts, so I will be silk screening again. I also plan to tag all of my current inventory with price tags.
I have been doing this weird thing... We had these panda statues in the city this summer and now they are gone. So, every morning, I walk past where one used to live and I stop there, stand there and pretend to be the gone panda. Is that weird? I don't know. I miss them. I close my eyes and think about how it must have felt to be there, on the sidewalk all summer. It is silly, I know.
I have been dreaming a lot lately. Dreaming of people and places I used to know. Jeff says there is nothing more boring than hearing other people's dreams (like sleepy dreams, not wishy dreams). But I disagree.
I keep showing up at my grandparents' old house or my second grade class room and old friends keep telling me about secret magic in ordinary places. It is strange and sad and then again neither. And when I wake up, I am always confused about my current life.
The saddest part about dreaming of past places is that they still exist separate from us. They have their own reality now. Like someone lives in my grandmother's old house. Right now. Someone is walking up the steps there and opening the door. Right now. My greatgrandmother's old house has been boarded up and abandoned for a long time. I dream about going there all the time. I get stuck there and it is empty except for the pinkish phone in the front room and the xmas tree and some discarded trash. The trash is always birth certificates. It is sad and weird how these places haunt us. While it is sad that places still exist, it is also amazing that we all just keep living our lives over the same space at different times. Like, I wish I could tear a tiny whole in reality and look at the lives in my apartment like 100 years ago. What would it be like? When those people moved out, did they think of it after? I guess I am just fascinated by place and time. The geography of our lives.
On the other hand, the best part of dreaming of people from our past is that they DO still exist separate from us. I always want to know what people I used to know are like now. That is prolly why I am always dreaming about them. Last night, I dreamt that Jeff and I went to some weird gaming conference and my old friend Dwayne was there. Something happened in the dream and we all had to escape from something. At the end of the ordeal, I remember hugging Dwayne, glad that we had gotten out. The hug made me realize that while he was the same Dwayne, he was this different person now. It was sad and lovely all at once. People pass through our lives so quickly. I imagine having a child will be like this. Watching them change every single day. And then one day, that 5 year old is gone and you have a 13 year old. But you never got the chance to mourn the 5 year old, ya know? One day you will hug them to see if they are the same person and they will be, but they won't be and it will be amazing.
I feel like I have a version in my mind of every person I have ever known. And when they are no longer in my life, that version gets stuck in my mind and shows up in my dreams. Like characters in a long running tv show. I suppose we all do this.
I don't know what this is all about. I think it is about how weird/cool it is that we collect these things in our minds and never let them go. People and places and even old versions of ourselves.
all morning long i have been thinky thinky.
dreamy thinky. wondering if it is the earth threatening to give me the autumn that i have been yearning for? or perhaps the new allergy meds.** no matter. i enjoy the thinky dreamy time.
walking to work, i felt a bit like the Buffy-bot or the Terminator, looking at everyone coming up to me and sizing them up. it sounds judge-y but it really isn't. tick tick tick, that person should stop smoking, that person would be happier with some comfortable shoes.
blop blop blop. my attention turns to other things. a sprinkler. the way my mary jane's frame my tinyily dotted socks. the exact size of my shadow.
i have a passport. i am passported. i can now escape this country if i have to. hello london. my shirt has a giant yeti running through paris. i am the yeti in washington, walking through the streets with big eyes and swinging arms. pretty yeti. silly yeti. me.
** i picked the zrytec because they have the best commericals with the dog like mine.
Today I am 31. Jeff let me open my presents this morning, whoohoo! I was pleasantly surprised to see Season One of Six Feet Under. The first time we watched that was in the middle of a blizzard. We just kept watching and watching the DVDs that I had gotten on Netflix. At one point Jeff had to walk out to Blockbuster to get the last discs. It will be cool to revisit Nate and David and Claire from the first Season. I also got Antoine et Collete, finishing the Truffaut Doinel series. My spelling is awful today, sorry.
There are so many things that I am looking forward to. First of all, autumn! Other things that I am looking forward to:
New Wes Anderson film, The Life Aquatic
New Farscape Miniseries in October
Crafty Bastards show (if I get picked!)
Trip to London in November
Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind DVD (since I have only seen the movie once!)
bunch more.
I spent all night nightmaring again. Don't feel bad for me, though. I don't mind nightmaring. This time it was a Buffy episode. An all new one created by sleeping me. There was something about a zombie virus that turned this girl into a meaty skeleton. Buffy had opened a coffee bar and this zombie girl was trying to give us all the virus. I had to keep trying to shut her in a closet. Then we stomped on the meaty bones of the skeleton. Where does this stuff come from? These weren't really nightmares, but more like fast fast exhausting dreams. Oh, and it all started when I saw this friend from high school, Heather Turnrose at the coffee bar. I tried to google her once and nothing. Where are you Heather Turnrose?
People keep asking me, what are you doing for your birthday? It is weird because everyone gets a birthday every year, why should it be special? Well, the answer is that so far today I have been thinking a lot about the weight loss journey. This time last year, I had only lost 16 pounds. Now I have lost 64. This time last year, I made a shirt that said, "Invincible like the Eiffel Tower". I think it was more to convince myself than anything. I looked at that shirt this morning, realizing that not only is it way too big now, but I don't feel like I have to wear it anymore. I don't have to convince myself of my invincibility now. I feel it deep inside, at my core. So, that is what I am doing for my birthday. Plus sushi for lunch.
And I had forgotten the joy of being so close to that dirty checkered floor.
Eye-level with their cigarettes, flickering, and leg tattoos and pants cut off to be not at all shorts. You can tell how cool someone is by their shoes, really. Are you dressed up for tonight, for this punk show, or are you for real real real? The ones with Xs on their hands are fond of the flip-flops. Thanks, Old Navy.
It has only been one season since I was last here, hand-stamped and waiting to sing along. But one season is enough to change the fashions. I feel like I am at teen club, 1986, with all the short shirts and layered tank tops and clunky jewelry. I am now officially old enough to have lived through the fashions that are now retro. I loved it when the 70s made a comeback because I was young enough to want to be fashionable and I loved dressing like I did when I was 5. I wonder if my fifth year was really as good as I revise it to be. Was it my best year?
This was our favorite band like 6 years ago and so my sense of time travel continues. Hello reunion. Watching them play, you wonder why they named the band, Braid. I move around too much… extra energy waiting to hop hop out. You ask me if I am ok, and I say, I am a peach. I am peachy. I am a peach. Peaches are soft and pretty and smell good. So, I may be exaggerating.
“There are more cell phones in this room than cigarettes,” I say. That should be on a shirt, a friend says. Yes, it should. The first time I went to the Black Cat, the other Black Cat, I don’t even think cell phones existed. I am old, but not as old as I should be or am? My shirt says, “Time is an Invention”. I agree with this.
Time is an invention. We invent things to make life easier, faster, more structured. We love our inventions.
Johnny Cash makes me miss my grandparents.
Johnny Cash makes me wish they had never a-moved to Washington, DC. Makes me yearn for the experience of growing up in the south. Well, Virginia at least. I remember that Virginia. It was sun-spotted and honeysuckle flavored and I grass-stained my white dress. The guitar was al ways within reach and the parrot knew my dad’s name. They took pictures, but forgot the flash. Shadowy children in a dirty kitchen with an ancient old ma. Like day for night in the movies. Too dark, but still visible.
Johnny Cash makes me want to travel to an old place. A place that was more simple. Maybe I will be more simple. Johnny Cash makes me hate complicated people. Even me. So silly. So complicated. Too many parties, not enough real joy.
Johnny Cash makes me want to call my grandmother on the phone. Too bad she is there in body, but not in mind anymore. Do you know how many years I wasted not calling my grandmother on the phone? And now I can’t. Some people say I like old people too much. Johnny Cash makes me realize it is just guilt for not liking them enough.
Johnny Cash makes me miss an alternate me.
I spend my days looking for portals out of this world. Don’t get me wrong. I love this world. My world. The world that I have made. Created and approved. But I wonder about other worlds too. I wonder what lies through the portals that I search for. Will there be another me there? Another you? Tell me. Tell me if you know. When the science guys prove string theory, will they tell us? Or will they keep the other worlds to themselves. Their own private vacation resorts. Will they go and become new gods in those other worlds? Or will they just walk over and take notes like all good science boys do. I wanna prove string theory. Not personally, but in general, I want to hear it on the news. Hear it on NPR. Today, scientists prove the existence of hundreds of other worlds occupying the same space as our own. Our dead relatives are all there in one such world, the one where things exist as pure energy. They say another world grows cotton candy instead of grass.
For now, I search the sidewalks and alleys for portals. I think about how I could rip a hole in the universe to see the others. I think about whether it would be like looking in a mirror or through a window or both at the same time. I wonder.
I think it might be time to go all blue.
Am I not cool because the only reason I haven't is because I worry that it might decrease my earning potential? Does a full head of blue hair worry people more than just blue streaks?
I am going to be at the punk rock craft fair at the Charm City Art Space this Sunday. I am excited. I love selling my work. Getting it out of the house to make room for making the new.
Have you ever seen the center of an avocado? Oh my. It is amazing. This huge nut/seed sits in the middle. Can you eat those? I was going to try and eat one last night but Jeff thought it was a bad idea. Someone tell me what they taste like. Are you as beautiful as a cut open avocado? Am I? I am not sure what could be more beautiful.
I have now lost 48 pounds.
Jeff's uncle in Florida got a talking bird by chance. I want to call it on the phone. I wonder if it would talk to me on the phone. What would it tell me. Could it tell me my future?
I want to hear my future from a talking animal.
I saw a severed bird head on my way to work. It looked like the little head had been ripped or cut from his body. It was horrible and lovely at the same time. While I enjoy picking up things off the ground to make my art pieces, this was something i had to pass up. I thought it would have be an amazing find for David Lynch, though.
How does a bird's head end up on the ground in front of the YMCA?
I know not.
I am a cowgirl princess. I am here to take the madness from all the cows.
We bought calendars for the new year. 2004. 50% off. We walked past the dog section. Hell, I used to love dog calendars. I found mine in the 'Teen Interest' section. It was almost Hello Kitty with 75 stickers and pullout poster, but then I found Emily Strange and she was the last one of her kind. So I got her. None of this makes me very original.
You got Johnny Cash. I said it might be a little sad. You said why. I said cause everyday you look up and Cash is still there and Cash is still dead.
Someone had been shopping and left their pile of things in Borders... I don't know why they didn't finish the purchase. They were going to buy Belle and Sebastian's 'Boy with the Arab Strap', the bird documentary 'Winged Migration' and the new Death Cab for Cutie record. I figured the first two were a good comment on whether i would like the last thing, so I bought it. I love the Postal Service, but this is my first Death Cab for Cutie cd. Why isn't it as good as the Postal Service? Can you tell me if their other stuff is as good? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me.
I bought a black skirt. Black with red stars. It is a size 18. And I haven't worn it yet. I worry. I worry worry that I will get too small for it before I get a chance to wear it. But I need tights to wear under it. I used to wear green tights with tiny white dots with all my skirts. That was the last time I was a size 18. That was 10 years ago. I wore pigtails then and combat boots. I miss those green tights.
I don't miss being younger. I am 30 and I love 30. I am so much younger than when I was 20. The new year is coming. I can hear it. I can feel it. It creeps along toward me like a slow train. Like I'm waiting on the tracks. Like I have been waiting forever. And I write and write and wait and wait.
I say hello to 2004. I am a gleaner. I have no resolutions because I am a gleaner. I have no resolutions because I'm already in the middle of them. I do not resolve. I do not regret my gleaning ways.
He stands there every morning, looking down at me with his stern uncared for face. He is so old. He is so unloved. His park is not a circle, but a tiny slab of smelly grass.
No wonder he looks at me like that. He seems mad and bursting to tell me of the injustice of it all.
Daniel Webster's park stinks. Sometimes it smells so bad that I wonder what poor dead thing is hidden in the bushes.
Mr. Webster's park has fruit-bearing trees. But they are tiny sticky stinky fruits. Sometimes I step on them and they go squash. When the fruit are in season, short old asian women fill huge plastic bags with them. I wonder what they are making them into.
I used to think Mr. Webster had a bird on his head, like molded into the metal or whatever. But that was just a bird who happened to be there everytime I looked. Sitting there, on the man's head, like a freakish live hat. But today, Mr. Webster was hatless, birdless.
Birdless. Hatless. Ceaseless.
I went to get sushi for lunch today because I was craving salty seaweedy fishy candy.
I got back to see that someone ordered from the site. This made me so happy! This is my third order this week, after a month of nothing at all. No bites at all. This makes me so happy. Have I said that already?
Last night, I was told I was an onion. I am an onion. I am an onion. I am an onion. Not smelly. Just peeling off parts.
Carrots are pretty. No. Really. Go look at some carrots. Amazing.
This is not poetry, I swear it.
You stare at a purple sweater behind glass.
It is surrounded by the winter-grey of trees.
You stare for so long.
I take every corner like a dance floor.
Volume is up to 20 and I can’t stop moving.
Can’t stop moving.
Can’t stop moving.
Bopbopbop.
Waiting for the blinking white walker to let me gogogo.
I sing along with my lips, but not my voice.
Shaking my head like I am shoeing away a bee.
My hair smells like my Aunt Wanda did when I was little,
when she
was one who beautifies others.
I used to think she was so shiny.
He drops his blue hat
in the middle of the street.
I pick it up and run after him,
even though I am a scavenger
by nature. And my nature tells me to keep it.
My reflection surprises me again.
Can’t stop moving.
Can’t stop moving.
Can’t stop moving.
The mix on my mp3 player is particularly good this week. I didn’t think about it much, but it suits me so well right now that I have begun to believe in fate again.
The great smallening continues. More rapidly now. Faster and faster, I am shrinking. This morning the scale said 249. I have lost 40 pounds and 4 pants sizes. My new body refuses to grieve for what it has lost. All of my old clothes make me sick. They hang there in the closet, huge and sad. My acceptance of my gender is in full force… I want to be pretty and pretty and pretty again.
::: And I’m screaming at the top of my lugs, pretending the echos are from someone, someone I used to know.:::
Everyone must be sick of talking to me about this. Baa Baa Baa Baa. But I am just getting started. You will have to listen forever because this is far from over.
Someone nice emailed me to thank me for being rad, for being helpful to her. I couldn’t imagine living my old life. I couldn’t imagine not being helpful. I couldn’t imagine not caring about people.
I sound crazy and my mix tape affirms it. The Smiths are my new Belle and Sebastian and I know that is totally whacked. If you are reading this, think about listening to the Postal Service CD… or maybe The Smiths.
:::everything will change:::
Try not to catch cold because November is too perfect a month to be sick in.
This acorn October is tumbling past me faster than ever. I spent all year waiting for October and I just looked up to find it half gone.
Everything is changing for me. No. Stop. Rewind. I am changing everything. I own these changes, I am sure of it.
Part of me wants to fast foward 6 or even 8 months to the day when all the changing will be done. But I know I should stay here and now and watch it all unfold.
I am bringing gifts. They are the best gifts of all. When will you give yourself the good presents? Aren't you sick of wasting them on everyone else?
This acorn October is fast. Faster than I thought possible.
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Copyright © 2008, Tina Henry-Barrus, all rights reserved.
Design by Jeff Barrus, 2005. |
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