KICKIN'

Thursday, May 24th

Boy, did I get caught in the rain today. I checked the weather predictions before I left and did not see that torrential downpours were expected imminently.

Monday, May 28th

Yeah, that day I chose to brave the muggy weather in a short-sleeved shirt and flip-flops. No umbrella, No nuttin'. I had to walk barefoot to the subway as it was pouring and one cannot navigate with wet feet in flip-flops. Walking barefoot in New York City feels positively unnatural. But I survived.

I'm just not all that chipper therefore I am not all that forthcoming. Hanging on. Perhaps I will feel more inspired to write more on the morrow. But I'm still ... kickin'.

SPITTING DRIZZLE

What with the rain and all, I hadn't been outside all day. I applied for a couple of jobs and did some nosing around job listings without much inspiration or success. When the rain was a spitting drizzle at dusk, I decided I should take a walk just because I could.

I can't say that it cheered me at all. The beauty of the buildings on 8th Avenue is so pleasant that my spirits droop at the thought that I won't be here long. And that I don't belong here. This comfortable life is not for me. Of course one feels "on the outside looking in" when that is exactly what one is doing, looking into the warm light of family dining rooms, living rooms, and studies from the darkening street.

It may sound as if I am just whining. But I am struggling with even the notion of "my place" in the world. What does that mean? How does one know? Can adjustments be made?

And maybe the overcast day weighed on me, too.

IF THE THUNDER DON'T GET YOU

Starting this post from beneath a tree in Prospect Park. The weather and the light today are so spectacular; it felt wrong to stay indoors all day. I think I stay indoors partly because on some deep level I feel so insecure and unsure of everything right now, I am somewhat, sometimes, in a kind of paralysis. That, and the vague feeling that I don’t have the right to enjoy the neighborhood and the surroundings I am soon to be leaving.

But I did get out. I treated myself to a Ladybird weekend croissant and a latte. I found a tree on a hillside and finished my first reading of the Monsterwood script. With my headphones on and soft music playing, it is remarkably peaceful. I must be sitting at the foot of a good squirrel tree as one tentatively approached me, its mouth full of a still-wrapped Tootsie Roll. Wish I could have photographed that. 




LATER LATER LATER

Monday, Monday. You can't trust that day. From the glorious light of yesterday to rain and thunder. There might have been lightning, as there so often is, but I was mostly asleep, so I didn't see.

It's a tough day, but it is a day, so I am going to make an attempt to get some things done, find a job, and save my own life.

I did take a nice two mile walk in the late afternoon. I used the time to catch up with an old friend, spurred on by the news that another old friend was separating from his spouse. At least I feel good enough to talk to people, which for a few weeks, I did not. I also chatted with KH at length. So there you go.

And I do find this interesting. Even on a day of torrential rain, there are screaming children outside. Maybe they are just enjoying the deluge.

ONIONS AND ROSES

I did take a little walk today, treating myself to a pizza while I started reading the latest draft of the Monsterwood script. I need to get out of the house more and regularly, but so what else is new. The flowers are changing, not daffodils and iris; there were some nice roses on 11th Street. 

I'm not floating free and clear yet, just today had a short panic attack, but it was fairly short-lived. I was helped out of the funk by Cooder coming to sit on my heart and purr for a bit. After a few minutes of respite and reflection, I was back up and at 'em again. Cooder moved to the pool of sunlight on the pillow. I think this is as calm and close as Emmylou and Cooder have ever been. That's quite an expression in Emmy's eyes. She must have seen a bird or something.

I got to be the final word in the next selection of the book group's June book. I picked something challenging, although I had been the one whining for something relatively short and simple. I had started to read Lewis Hyde's The Gift any number of times, and it did survive the great library sale of April. It is not an easy read, not something to scan lightly on the subway after a beer, but I like it a great deal; it is already full of book darts.

"Every culture offers its citizens an image of what it is to be a man or a woman of substance. There have been times and places in which a person came into his or her social being through the dispersal of his gifts, the "big man" or "big woman" being that one through whom the most gifts flowed. The mythology of a market society reverses the picture: getting rather than giving is the mark of a substantial person, and the hero is "self-possessed," "self-made." So long as these assumptions rule, a disquieting sense of triviality, of worthlessness even, will nag the man or woman who labors in service of a gift and whose products are not adequately described as commodities. Where we reckon our substance by our acquisitions, the gifts of the gifted man are powerless to make him substantial."

Self-worth, self-esteem has been much on my mind these past few months. Today, in fact, it was central to a healing session I had. I am still mulling over these feelings and insights and perceptions, but something certainly rings true in Hyde's comment. CB mentions the layers of onion being stripped away to get at one's true essence. But maybe a rose is a good analogy or symbol, too.

WISH ME LUCK

I usually like the rain but today I feel as if I am in a jungle bunker, cornered and just listening to the incessant rain drip, drip, drip. What is up with me? Extra nervous for some reason. And missing the Spring light.

I'm back to working on the formatting part of my resume, which is good, because that means I am pretty done for the moment. And even though I am watching the Word 2011 tutorial on lynda.com, I just get antsy. Why why why?

This is what I woke up with next to my head. Very cute, of course, but has a tendency to nip hands when she wants attention. And, as you can see, those are some fairly serious teeth. She has sort of an overbite.

I am still in a non-internal state of mind. Or maybe I am just way too obsessed with Battlestar Galactica, but I am just not thinking very much. But the new, revised resume is going out. Wish me luck.

BAKERY BAR BEDMAKING

Who would have thought that a bakery and a bar nextdoor to one another would be such a haven for screaming and crying children? I kind of get the barking dog issue as folks go in to get a treat during their walks, but it is the miserably unhappy children that surprise me. And the awful bar across the street evidently has some wayward parents who drink while their children congregate on the bench outside the (closed) bakery. Sometimes they run up and down the street playing and yelling. Now, there is certainly nothing wrong with this behavior, except that this is at 11:00 p.m. Shouldn't they be in bed? (I know that's what I'm trying to do, sleep.) And it isn't once. I am beginning to recognize these kids at other times of the day as I have seen them out my window enough times.

If it isn't the screaming kids, it's the sirens, and if it isn't the sirens, it's the delivery trucks idling, and if it isn't the delivery trucks idling it's the motorcycles and if it isn't any of those things ... it's quiet.

Monday, May 14th.

I think that was from Saturday and I just forgot to finish and post.

Today, the weather went grey and cold again. I didn't have a great day, but not terrible either. I did get a few things done (further desk excavation and organization, cat food run, some further resume work, and I started another tutorial on lynda.com). Emmylou helped me make the bed this morning. It is one of her favorite things. Look at that ear hair.

CHILLAX SPRING DAY

Tell me this is not the expression of peace and contentment. Not my expression, of course, but Cooder is channeling a groove for me here. We had some good naps yesterday and today. And that would lead one to believe I am sleeping better. And I am.

I finished a working draft of the old resume! I sent it off to the career counselor for feedback and I will re-address the document tomorrow. What a weight off of my little mind. I just chillaxed the rest of the weekend, napping, hanging with the cats, watching Season 2 of Battlestar Galactica. I did make some significant progress on cleaning off my desk. And I even worked on the kitchen woodwork. Always so much to clean.

Today, I walked down 8th Avenue to Atlantic in the late afternoon. As always, there are new things to be seen and speculated about. I just liked the colors of these bricks.

SOME YEARS THERE ARE APPLES

Okay, so the struggle and the fight against myself continues, but the good "I" is gaining the upper, pro-active hand. And most of my procrastination is of the positive kind (I first wrote "sign"; I wonder what that really means) as I am cleaning up my downloads files and my iTunes; it does feel good to get that organized, even if it is not mission critical which is to keep my apartment.

Meanwhile, I stopped for a moment to read the daily poem from the Academy of American Poets and felt the need to immediately share it:

Gather
by Rose McLarney

Some springs, apples bloom too soon.
The trees have grown here for a hundred years, and are still quick
to trust that the frost has finished. Some springs,
pink petals turn black. Those summers, the orchards are empty
and quiet. No reason for the bees to come.

Other summers, red apples beat hearty in the trees, golden apples
glow in sheer skin. Their weight breaks branches,
the ground rolls with apples, and you fall in fruit.

You could say, I have been foolish. You could say, I have been fooled.
You could say, Some years, there are apples.

I am expecting apples soon.

TASMANIAN HONEY

Holy Toledo! The sky doesn't look like this today! Well, I did see some blue for a bit after a day of rain.

A couple of quick things here as it is getting on to 8:00.

As the faithful among you know, I am quite intent on changing my state of being and to that end I have sought the help of two different schools of counseling, one traditional and one not so much. The not-so-much professors have me drinking a cup of hot water and honey each morning to remind myself to be sweet and nuturing to myself. Plus, I have kind of gotten used to it.

I used up the first jar of honey that I pulled out of the cupboard. (I have several jars, don't you?) Still on the shelf were a regular supermarket kind and a fancy Tasmanian honey that had been given to me as a gift three years ago and had barely been open.

So when it was time for a new jar yesterday, did I reach for the good stuff? No, I started using the lesser. It was not as tasty as the first. This morning, I realized that I often "save" the good stuff. What am I "saving" honey for? (Let's just set aside the catastrophic bee problem that might make hoarding honey a good idea in the post-apocalyptic world.) I do that: deny myself things and save them for ... what? (Unfortunately, this did not spill over into the world of finance.) I opened the Tasmanian honey this morning and began to use it. Tastes lots better.

Not to hammer him, but this was another behavior inherited from my father. He always discouraged us from driving, not because he was an early environmentalist, but to save wear and tear on the car. I'm sure there are other examples of this kind of ... parsimony? deferred gratification for an unknown event or rainy day or ??? This needs to be pursued further. What am I keeping from myself and myself from? What else can I avail myself of?

And then there was a long dream, (and I am sleeping more deeply for those keeping score, but I still wake up somewhat panicked), that had to do with going to a resort out in a California oak scrub kind of landscape. I had a white Porsche (my father had a Porsche, not white and this one was a later model). For some reason, I had a bunch of my down bedding in the car. As I was having some trouble driving, reaching the pedals, but I was managing. Then I was driving really fast and the bedding started whipping around the car, very much obscuring my vision. I did not slow down. I drove while wrestling with the bedding (more dangerous than texting, I am pretty sure) which was wrapped around my head. I vanquished one comforter (white with yellow roses) only to be assaulted by sheets.

I did manage to park at the inn, get settled in, only to find myself in the Porsche again with my mother and another old friend, in two way, Dolly is about 84 herself, driving to Palm Springs, and again, driving very fast with the sheets and comforter flying around and blinding me.

What do we make of that?

DANCING THROUGH THE CLOVER

I've no idea why, but I woke up with this Band song, Daniel and the Sacred Harp, playing in my head. Now, this is a bit of an obscure song for all but the deeply schooled Band fans, and it has not been a particular favorite of mine. Daniel, Daniel and the Sacred Harp/dancing in the clover. Turns out Robbie Robertson was a pretty darn good songwriter. (Daniel and The Sacred Harp)

Rain today. I suppose that is at least a change from the merely grey. But is is dark in the front of the house in the morning.

Later.

Writing this blog is not coming easily, or at least the impetus to do it. I feel as if I had lost my voice here at bit. I am still floundering around. I did the editing/consulting work I was supposed to do today but did not make measurable progress on the other issues. Feeling kind of down and crappy this morning, uninspired to do much, I left for Trader Joe's early. Well, the rain didn't help traffic at all, however, TJ's was so nice and quiet AND it was relatively easy to park. So that was a task completed.

In my procrastination, I have started cleaning up my computer. My downloads files are a mess. I have lots of music that has been sent to me that has not made it into iTunes, so I started importing that and organizing the playlists. And that led to me to my mail downloads where I had all sorts of documents from old jobs that ended up reminding me of what I had done at the last couple of job which is exactly what I need to write on my resume. So there. I did some important key research that will help me incorporate. For now, I will give myself this one.

Did some other psychic work with a couple of my counselors. That ended up kind of trashing me for the rest of the day. I didn't go out a get a flower, though. Hmmm.... Tomorrow morning. For now, this one will do.

WHY NOT CHENEY?

Today is Cooder's 14th birthday. That's getting up there in kitty years. She doesn't really seem to be interested in "celebrating." I'm sure she'd eat as many kitty treats as I would put out for her. And she did spend some time sitting in my lap. I spend so much time at the computer, the kitties don't get a lot of lap opportunity. When I had a couch and a tv, there was more latitude, however, Maria was pretty much ruling the laps in those days.

Today was one of the one step back days. I endeavored (CB quotes Yoda and says there is no trying or not trying, only doing) ... to work on the resume rewrite, but somehow it reduced me to depression and tears. I look forward to this phase being over. Am I just gloomy due to a vitamin D deficiency? With the exception of Sunday afternoon, it has been pretty dark.

I did see two red-breasted robins on my Sunday walk. One bird was so fat I suspected pregnancy. Come to think of it, I have never knowingly seen a pregnant bird. Do they get all swelled up?

Also, Meow, the overfed kitty died yesterday. Goodness. Why couldn't it happen to Dick Cheney?

SOMETHING LIKE A BIRD WITHIN HER SINGS

I did sleep better last night. And if I woke up at 5:00, the panic was calmed enough for me to continue to sleep. Perhaps last night's repose was the best night's sleep I have had in many months. Was it the trazadone, the dairy products in last night's pasta extravaganza, or a perceptual shift in my unconscious that maybe things are getting better. On the road to recovery instead of the road to nowhere?

My medicine chest is in serious need of re-organization. It is one of those (many) tasks I repeatedly vow to get right on as soon as I finish "x". Beginninging with an item or two, I dreamt that I had cleared it out, down to polishing the glass and throwing out things. And I had so much  more room in there than I had previously thought. Now what is that a metaphor for? We can clean our our medicine chests and heal ourselves?

Hmmm ... haven't had coffee yet, so I will end this for now. Another gloomy chilly day.

Later that morning! Huzzah! And there is sunshine. Working on resume, but will try to get out to soak up some rays before the day is over.

And here's a cool post from TEDx about vulnerability. There are elements here which are quite central to my current challenges and thinking. For instance, shame has always been an emotion that I have never gotten a clear handle on. I have never been able to untangle all of the feelings in that complex. I think she does a good job of teasing out a lot of it.

Monday morning.

I walked in the park for the first time in many many weeks, although by the time I got out the sun was largely down. It was transformed into pure greenery. I know this happens every year, but I have been so enmeshed in my own story that I had not been of an expansive mind and heart to enjoy the bursting and budding around me. And now the leaves and grass have settled into their warm weather splendor, except that the colors are sharp with newness.

And while my outlook on future finances and living situation is still entirely up in the air, the pain has lessened enough for me to move around a bit more normally, comfortably. I even IRONED last night. I also slept well, although I took some xanax to make sure. When I woke up, more like 6:00 than 5:00, I felt the dim pangs of panic instead of the jolt of terror.

Progress.

ERE I WOO MORPHEUS

One should likely not be inordinately proud of achieving basic reasonably maintenance of things, yet I do feel some prideful relief. I had not backed up this computer (the desktop) in about a year. Today, I had enough scratch to purchase an inexpensive terabyte hard drive and backed it up, which took several hours. I am surprised at my feelings of relief and accomplishment. Low standards, Sally Anne, low standards.

Not much else to report. I was so agitated by that regrettably bad play and perhaps by being out later than usual, that I could not sleep. I did essay to woo Morpheus without benefit of any drugs, so that likely added to my inability to sleep. That and the lunatics on the street ALL night. Yes, lunatics is correct; gearing up for tonight's full moon.

The sleep deprivation led to kind of a lost day for me. As John was out of town, I went upstairs to hang out with Melinda. I made her pasta with parmesan and butter which was too indulgent for John's tastes, but I knew Melinda would cotton right to it. We watched the first two episodes of Veep, which I highly recommend.

And now I think I will seek out some sleeping medication to insure that I do rest. Must re-write resume. Must re-write resume. All else takes lower precedence. Why do we have such resistance to these things. There must be a better way. I mean, can't we make resumes passe? Or is that what websites are all about.

Here are some pictures:

CALL WHEN MY

I love the fences in this neighborhood.

This sounds like the beginning of a poem or a letter, or an epistolary novel:
I will call when my first cup of coffee is brewed.

It has a certain cadence, no? Or perhaps after my many weeks of quiet, I am just encharmed with words and possibilities again.

Tonight I saw John Lithgow in the new play about Joseph Alsop, The Columnist. Holy shit, it was terrible. It might have been my worst theatrical experience since I saw a travelling production of Cats in San Franciso back in the 1980s. I was hard pressed to stay quietly in my seat when I wanted to stand up and scream "What the fuck?" Grace Gummer, Meryl Streep's daughter was in it also and she really needs to find another metier. Okay. Enough. I don't need to get steamed about it.

TAKE THE SECOND, RIGHT?

Let's see if I can get back into this. Meanwhile, thank you for all of your sweet and encouraging comments and some extra "kudos" from a old friend.

The trees are almost in full leaf which means the birds are back at it in full force. Having windows at tree branch level is great for bird watching. Emmylou sits in the window with all the concentration and rapt attention of a '50s child seeing Howdy Doody when television was new. The other morning I woke up in Brewster, New York (about 50 miles north of here, near the Connecticut border) and I noticed I was hearing different birds. I have no idea, of course, what birds (besides the ubiquitous pigeons) are here or there, but the song was not the same.

I have no idea why, but I have Baby, I Love You is my morning theme song. I love the horns, particularly the tenor sax, King Curtis and Charlie Chalmers. Check it out.

I need to get back to work this morning.

Later that same day.

Okay then. I did get some work done on the resume re-write, I did reach out to folks with whom I had not been in touch AND I even went to my book group even though I was so challenged these past weeks that I did not read the book. I had planned on not going, but realizing I was unlikely to get much more work done as well as knowing that I do not know how many more times I would even be around, I made the effort. And I had read enough of the book to contribute.

Much more to be done. And if you can't take the first step, take the second, right?

JUNE GLOOM IN MAY

Greetings.

I know it has been quite awhile since I have posted. There have been some serious challenges in my life of late. Writing about this part of the journey did not seem prudent in a public forum. I am by no means out of the dangerous woods yet, but I do miss the practice. When I check in here, I hold myself to a different accountability.

So, the short version is: still in Brooklyn (yay!), still looking for work. The cats are good. I've been downsizing in a good way and the process is becoming clearer and somewhat easier. I haven't been reading much, nor taking pictures, nor walks. 

I had a vintage item stoop sale.

Made some bucks and got rid of some stuff that day although I still have plenty of tablecloths. John and Betts helped me out.

Here's Emmy today. She actually jumped into my lap for a few minutes the other day, and this morning she sat on me while I was still in bed. Maybe she'll be a cuddly kitty after.