Pulchritude and Pestilence

Sometimes I Wish I Would Just Wander Off And Get Lost

2009-03-26T20:19:00.000-07:00

As much as the title basically sums up my thoughts I think I'm going to rant a bit anyway.
'Cause mostly I'm just sick of myself. I seem to be stuck in these patterns of behavior which serve me not. Try as I might I just can't think my way out of them...
I read once this quote: " You can act your way into right thinking, but you can't think your way into right action." Or some such anyway, that probably wasn't exactly how it was said, it is however the exact idea. Anyway, I'm keep on being stuck with being me.
I'm in my fourth semester of college now and am reminded of being a young adult. In those days a year and a half of being at the same job, looking at the same four walls, would make me want to cry every morning. Eventually I escaped this dilemma by moving into the construction field where everything changes all the time. But it seems that now that I am back in school this rule still applies. I am hopelessly unmotivated.
When I look at the prize at the end I still conclude that all this suffering will be worth it. Although teaching will potentially place me in a position where I could end up stuck in the same place year after year it will also present an ever changing cast of personalities and challenges as well as opportunities to travel abroad and summer breaks enough for recouping purposes, I hope.
Which helps not at all with my current crisis. I have accepted that I am a collection of particular characteristics. What I really need is to morph those into something that isn't so totally sabotaging to my higher goals. I am frustrating myself almost beyond endurance.
I have seen people change. Once or twice anyway. How does this happen?

The Latest Plan...Hunting

2009-03-22T10:18:00.000-07:00

My boyfriend and I have come up with an idea for summer frolicking...we are going to host a scavenger hunt party. The idea is that we will charge a modest entrance fee because the party portion will include a huge barbeque and the scavenger hunt part is going to include t-shirts printed with the list on one side and some sort of "Official Hunter" message on the other. I want to blog about this because we are working up our list of hunting items and I'm fishing for comments and ideas. We are thinking there will be categories of items and hunters will have to come up with a requisite number of items in that category and maybe there will be points assigned to various items. Prizes will be given for fastest group, coolest items and other things. See what you think...

1 lb. soil from outside of a graveyard (with picture documenting it's source)
a globe
an oversize letter or number (3')
a rotary telephone
an Atari cartridge
a prisoner (some one picked up randomly who will at least come to the party to be checked in and is then welcome to hang out)
a tool (bonus points if your prisoner will also admit to being a tool)
a ridiculously oversized item
a "What-the-fuck?" item (extra points for creativity)
a live animal that is not a pet
a kitchen sink
a toilet seat
points for a $20 donation to the party
a strangers underwear (bagged please)
a large bone
a beach ball
a softball bat, glove, and ball (so we can play at the party)
a frisbee
the bumper from a car (must be detached)
the phone number of a man over 70 (and permission to call to verify)
a superhero kite
a pumpkin
a love letter composed by the team
a sticker or collector card from a policeman
homework from a summer school kid
a t-shirt from a local bar
a paint ball hit on a team member's shirt
a bottle of liquor or a case of beer
a halloween mask
a cowpie
a bike rim and tire
a christmas light bulb from a house with it's lights still up
a traffic cone, hard hat, or safety vest
a yard gnome
a movie poster
a lego airplane
a portrait of the god of your choice
an adult magazine dated 1990 or earlier
10 red ants or 4 daddy long legs in a jar
a picture of a team member in a compromising position with a stranger
a paddle

So we plan to sort through and amend this list as the planning goes on. We are trying to keep the lawbreaking to a minimum. We would love to have your feedback. Thanks

I Have Found Heaven - It's in Portland.

2009-03-14T12:20:00.000-07:00

I recently took a trip to Portland, Oregon. Portland has the good fortune to shelter the largest new and used bookstore in the world. Imagine, one full city block going four stories up, all devoted to the commerce of the written word. It is well organized and boasts a coffee shop in one corner. As you walk in you smell paper and coffee. This is it. Nirvana achieved.
Portland has many other lovely features, but for money this was it's shining glory. Well, Voodoo Doughnuts was up there too. Really, how often does your pastry allow you to simulate pagan death magic? But it's the bookstore that makes me all squishy inside.

The Clam Before the Storm

2009-01-07T12:12:00.000-08:00

Yep, you read that correctly. It is my down time, for a moment, between semesters. I am the clam. I am shut up in my little world, bounded by my house and my boyfriend's arms. This is my warm, happy place and I am so very content, that I can hardly be pried out of here.
For activities, I am kid swapping with my sister-in-law, reading to my boyfriend, and cleaning house. A couple of months ago I took a full trailer load of garbage out of my house, mostly assorted chattels that were either broken or had potential that would never be realized in my household. For Christmas I had a stroke of genius. My brother was wishing for a gift certificate to Home Depot and so I returned to Home Depot two brand new doors that fit no doorways in my house and gave him the store credit. I can't explain how they came to be, but they are gone now. Of the six separate spaces in my house, five are no longer in complete chaos. I can see my kitchen table. All of it. I am freakin amazing.
There are parts of me who just want to be a clam forever.

The Contagion Spreads

2008-12-27T15:32:00.000-08:00

So my sister has contacted me by text message to say that her depression is kicking her ass. I asked her, in my reply, what she was willing to do about it. It turns out that her off the cuff answer was apparently the true answer. She replied "curl up in a ball." She asked if had any better ideas, but apparently I don't. What do I know, I've only been through it and reached what I feel was a successful resolution. I guess it just goes to show that people have to find their own way through these things.
Not that I'm unsympathetic. If she wanted a shoulder to cry on I could give her that, I have in fact. But in the end I always seem to come back to the "What are you willing to do about it?" question, which tends to put off the average depressed person. I can relate to that. I currently have issues in my life I'm not quite willing to take the appropriate action for. I know that when I reached the point where anything else was better than being depressed anymore I did something about it. I wasn't ready before that, didn't hurt enough yet, was still comfortable being sad. It really only took 10 years for me to get tired of being depressed.
So I'm content to just hang out until she gets tired of it. Hope she doesn't die first, that really would piss me off.

Don't Tell Anyone...

2008-12-24T16:55:00.000-08:00

But I am the calm calm center of the universe. Nothing will penetrate my cool and calm exterior. Nothing!!!

Science and...Emotion?

2008-12-15T08:28:00.000-08:00

In my youth I started on a path destined to seriously retard my growth as an adult person. My method involved excessive amounts of psychotropic substances and was very effective, thank you. I am constantly amazed at how much I grow now that I'm no longer chemically challenged. Today's epiphany relates to getting my son to school on time. A couple of years ago he was considered truant because he was late an average of three times a week. This year he has only been late three times. Yeah, me!
All of that aside, what is interesting to me this week is the idea that emotion could be subject to the first law of thermodynamics, that energy is neither created or destroyed. Is it possible that you can catch a funk like a cold? Maybe just by brushing up against the karmically challenged you could pick up the blues? Do a positive outlook and work you love act like an immune system to protect you from these negative influences? Can you pick up happiness the way you can give someone a smile? Maybe human emotion isn't the natural state of man, maybe it's a disease we picked up from the sun and haven't yet developed an immunity to.
I developed this idea after visiting my friend last weekend. After fully appreciating his life circumstance I was feeling very heavy, almost panicked. I spent three days feeling this way before it finally lifted. That's suspiciously similar to the length of the average cold, don't you think? Hmmm...

This Metaphysical Dilemma is Choking Me

2008-12-08T09:02:00.000-08:00

Heavy subject matter, is love. I choose not to watch network television because it only seems to produce ever varied examples of people being extremely crappy to each other. I'm such a sheltered child that these continuously shock my sensibilities. "Yay" for being sheltered. Not that I haven't witnessed fucked up love in many varied forms, I have. The difference is in the degree and the almost casual, off-hand way it is dealt out.
What is love? I have thoughts, definitions supplied by others which have seemed to strike a chord.
Love is the condition in which anothers happiness is essential to your own. This is a good try and I love Heinlein for saying it, but it's wording makes it difficult to infer that all love begins with the self. If a person will not staunchly pursue and defend the right to their own happiness, the happiness of others around them will be a pale and hollow thing.
Love is commitment. Okay, maybe. But I really like what Howie Vann said in a lecture, commitment in love is not just a commitment to the relationship, it's a commitment to get over the past so you can be happy together. Love relationships are dependent, I think, on the willingness to continually work on your yourself rather than the other person.
But I think that, fundamentally, love is based in truth. Intimacy is about allowing people to see all way inside of you. Not every thought that passes through your brain, but what is really real about you. Love of self demands it (I have learned through won experience). Telling the truth about yourself is a way of saying to the world at large that you are okay. Or, more to the point, it sends that message to the deepest parts of the self. And then, how can you believe in the love you recieve if you do not reveal yourself, if you know that you have created a cardboard cut-out that looks like you but lacks your essence?
I was sympathizing with scarletvirago, over our all-too-brief idyll, about having people in your life, who you love, who are hurting. The overall message, it seems, is that people come through these things. She had a list of persons who had suffered immensely at various points but that are okay now. I was one of them. The caretaker in me still wants to run to the rescue, fix it, worry at it until it's better. I know that this is one of the parts of me that is most likely to get me into trouble. And ultimately that I have no power to "fix" other people. I am the soul of conflicted. Because when people I care about hurt it's like a damage taken to myself. I hate that.
I won a small battle for love today. Me: "You know what I'm proud of?" My son: "What?" Me: "That I didn't freak out all over you this morning" (when he couldn't find his shoes.) I forget that moments are precious and that memories are made of small things. But THIS time I remembered.
I am learning, reluctantly, that love is an action. It is small considerations more than it is grandiose exclamations. I'm so verbal that this doesn't come naturally to me, but truly, as they say, actions speak louder than louder than words. Thank you Mom, and Justin, and scarletvirago, and Dad, and everyone, but mostly Justin, whose unwillingness to abuse the word Love has made me examine again what it really means. Thus I grow.

I Have Hatched a Plan

2008-12-03T14:24:00.000-08:00

I have decided to found an organization whose acronym is A.N.V.I.L. I mean who wouldn't want to be a member of a group like that. I think that the A and the N need to stand for words that are related to American and North because then, down the road when I take over Europe, the acronym can be changed to E.V.I.L. How freaking cool is that? I want to combine this with my life-long ambition of being high priestess in a sex cult. So what will be the full name of my cult known as A.N.V.I.L.? I haven't figured that out yet, but stay tuned.
On another note, I have a chicken or the egg question. Which of these is more correct: "I am thinking I need a mocha" or "I am thinking. I need a mocha." Okay, I can admit that I just wasted your time with that aside, but hey, I'm hatching a plot that may someday allow you and others to say "I'm with the E.V.I.L. organization." Anyone who can do that isn't a complete waste of blood.

I Love to Sleep but I Hate to go to Bed

2008-12-02T02:02:00.000-08:00

That about sums it up. Cheers.

Where the HELL are my crickets?

2008-12-01T21:10:00.000-08:00

Ahhh...The sounds of going to sleep when you're seven.... Woof! Wooooooooo... Wirr... wirr... aaaaahhhhhh(a.k.a. the creepy spooky door).... click..... click.... clunk..... ...... ...... bop.... bop... bop.... bap.... blip... bling.. tap, tap, tap (little feet) "Momma, I got an owiee." "How did you get an owiee while you were supposed to be sleeping?" "I don't know." "What did you do to get an owiee while you are supposed to be going to sleep?" "I don't know but it's right here. And it's red." "Do want me to get a marker and make it another color?" "What color?" "I don't know. I could color it purple, or blue, or green." "Yes." "No. That is an unreasonable request at bedtime. Go to bed." tap, tap, tap... pop... pop... woo-hoo, woo-hoo, woo-hoo(shit, how did the french police find us?) bowm-owm, pap... phzzzt... poosh.... tap, tap, tap, thud (goes the bathroom door). THUD. (I can't even guess). (no flushing)tap, tap, tap ....silence....

Crimson Tide

2008-12-01T01:13:00.000-08:00

Just one week ago I was composing a reply to Scarletvirago's inquiry about potential blogging in my future. Said reply never reached publication, it's wit and indignance lost due to the fact that I couldn't remember my stupid password. The reply was full of sympathy for those who are caught in the blogger world and assurances that I would not be participating other than to reply on a casual basis. Ahem. (Dammit.)(Twice.)
I have something to say, it turns out. Only I can't remember what.
Oh yeah. When I was composing in my head it started out something like this... (Imagine some pomposity, in my head I'm kind of full of myself.) (Never to your face, that would be rude.) Ahem.. (I'm a smoker, gotta clear the airways so my brain can think through the surrounding haze. For reals this time...) "I have been gender deviant for most of my adult life (if you consider as I do that my adulthood started at 13). I have not ever been able to develop much interest in hair or make-up, usually stopping at the point where people won't jump in fright when they clap eyes on me. By the time I did consider caring (about 4 months ago, give or take) I realized that I was way behind all of my peers and was going to have to go through the garish whore-of-Babylon learning-curve stage all alone. Not appealing. So fuck it.
I spent about ten years working construction. I mean really working construction, coming home dirtier than my husband a reliable 100% of the time, getting up at the ass-crack of dawn and then driving to the job, having beers with the guys after work kind of construction. The cool part about this was my husband was cool with it, secure enough to not mind that I had an unusual job for a chick, or a wife. (Yes, lots of women work construction these days. Most of them choose the less "get in and get dirty" route and flag traffic. Not easy, but also not distinguishable for it's gender deviance. No cookie.)
In addition to being willing to get dirty and work hard I have chosen to not freak out every time I see a bug or smell a fart. The exception to this rule is that if the bug gets the drop on me I may "eep" in a very girl-like manner. Then I will kill said bug myself. Unless a man of gallantry happens to be nearby and really wants to do for me, then I will gracefully concede. And unless said fart has the capability of making me vomit, but in that case I consider the vomiting protest enough. If the fart wakes me up out of dead sleep protest is likely to be grumpy and voluble. Other than these minor provisions bugs and farting are not really worthy of getting in a twist over.
I have given up the vice of body consciousness, particularly during sex. Really, it interferes too much with the pleasure I can achieve when I am wholeheartedly engaged in the carnal act. It interferes too much with my pleasure in life in general.
I do not mind if my boyfriend has lovers other than me. I am secure in knowing that he thinks I am the best. I am certain that if this is no longer the case I will go on being fabulous without him. Or as friends. I am certain that he will not do anything that would compromise our health or embarass me. And he tells me the truth. What a joy and pleasure it is to be involved with a person of quality. I would be stupid care more about a little sex than about losing a person such as this.
Perhaps that falls outside of your box? I would be glad to discuss it but please come prepared with more than just a "feeling" that this type of behavior is wrong. Logic is welcome, statistics adored, experience appreciated. Emotional appeals will not get you a cookie.