The Boys from Brazil

I realized this week that every movie that I watch that has violence, provides me with some sort of implicit social commentary on the nature of violence. If this were intentional, it seems like peace would be easier to achieve. If the Hunger Games trilogy is so popular, shouldn't we be seeing a peaceful revolution developing right in front of us? Some part of me thinks it is on the horizon, that somehow generations are being formed that will shift global consciousness towards peace and reconciliation. Or maybe I'm too hopeful for my own good.

Yesterday, I watched Red Dawn (1984), directed by John Milius, and starring a young Patrick Swayze and Charlie Sheen, and at the end of it felt like I'd watched a commentary on present-day Afghanistan. Young people are driven out into the wilderness during an attack on the US, and they become like cave-dwellers in the mountains, paranoid and hungry, willing to kill anyone who crosses them, even their closest friends. Isolation mixed with fear can produce some pretty nasty consequences.

Today I watched The Boys from Brazil (1978), directed by Franklin J. Schaffner. World War II themes combined with 1970s era South America? It sounds like a recipe for my perfect movie. Also, Steve Gutenberg was pretty hot as a young twenty-something ;) It answers the strange and wonderful question, "Should you kill baby Hitler, if you knew he was Hitler?" Fascinating movie about social engineering and evil intent.

I guess the more violence I see, the more senseless it becomes. Perhaps that's just my special brain working. I don't know any better; it's the only one I've ever had :)

Painting share :)

I love buying original art, even if it's less-than-perfect. Last week, admittedly, I did pass on a terrifically terrible Starry Night "replica" from Salvation Army. I just couldn't see myself selling it, though I did want to buy it just to smile. When I was a kid, I went to a visual and performing arts school, and in my art class, we, as a 5th grade class, recreated the famous Van Gogh piece by chopping it into parts, and then piecing it together like a puzzle. Good times.

I think if I had more space in my apartment, I'd create more. I'm no artist, but I do enjoy making things. Maybe I'd be more DIY. It's been a while since I had my sewing machine out in the open and quick to use. Maybe I'd bake more.

Honestly, I haven't written a poem in ages. I quit writing anything from my heart, from the deep. I know I'm protecting myself from being in love. I'm protecting myself from the great abyss of not being in control and everything being confusing and scary. I think it's better where I am, less interesting, but better.

Is it time for my sabbatical yet where I move to another country for six months and write in a quiet room? I sure hope so.

Be well :)

Books are awesome :)

These old mugs are super fun, not for any particularly funny reason though :)

So having school be the top priority in my life over the past five years, I have whittled my life down to the bare necessities: eating, yoga, occasional sunshine, writing, and paying the bills. These things have kept me sane in a very rocky, turmoil-filled time, and I made it! Yay! But now, all of that stress and constant need-to-perform is over, and I'm left with this emptiness in my life that I have to figure out how to fill.

It's not that my life is bad, or that I'm lacking in love or nurturing in some particular way, but some other inertia that I no longer have. I no longer have an ever-present goal I'm reaching for. And that creates a displaced feeling in my soul that I can't quite rid myself of.

So I've been reading The Hunger Games trilogy like a madwoman. I stayed up 'til midnight last night reading like my younger nine-year-old self. I'm funny that way with kid books. I do the same thing with Nancy Drew. When I lived in the jungle, I stayed up so late, I had to use a flashlight in bed to keep reading. Nerdin' out. Like a mofo.

Old sweatshirts

CVC Tuscon - Roadrunner mug (great color, huh?)

I always have good thinking time when I'm out walking around my neighborhood. It helps me get rid of nasty bad feelings, and start to dream a little bit. And then when I walk in my front door, it's all in the past, and I move on with my day, leaving all those dreams undone, ready to be picked up at a later time.

Tonight, I was thinking about old sweatshirts, you know, the sweatshirts you wear all the time when you're at home? The ones that are faded and holey? Well, I was always trying to get my hands on these when I was a kid. I dreamed of the day that I would have old sweatshirts that felt familiar and homey. I would take sweatshirts from my parents, but they hated that, so I was always left wanting more, my own hooded sweatshirt. Twas only a dream...

Anyhow, I was thinking that the reason for this wish was the familiarity of something old, something that had been around for a long time, something tangible that crossed over from place to place, that traveled with me through time. I wanted something to hold on to.

Anyhow, I now have sweatshirts like this, that are faded and torn. I remember the moment that I tore one particular sweatshirt. I remember where I was, what I was doing, and what I was feeling. It has history. As I get older, my things age with me, become more a part of me.

Thoughts of the day. Whatever. Peace out :)

Change is scary...

When we are no longer able to change a situation – we are challenged to change ourselves.

Viktor E. Frankl

I saw some Oprah thing recently, Oprah's therapist-guru-friend, Iyanla Vanzant, goes to some woman's house and confronts her in her kitchen about her "racket" and how she's a "hustler". It was weird. But it also stuck with me, so this is what I've been thinking about (after the minute of footage that I saw, so this is obviously my own opinion, and probably nowhere near her therapeutic method - fyi).

Some people work incredibly hard to keep from getting real help. They manipulate, and complain, and victimize themselves to avoid getting help, to avoid confronting the things that they've done and the things that have been done to them. It's nasty ugly stuff to watch, but it's also addictive, this vicious cycle of "Help me! Go away!" One can get lost in the circular logic.

I don't know how to stop people from doing this. But I think it might have something to do with accepting that life will not change, and that we must.

Peace out :)

I am bad at being patient.

After waiting two years to find these in my size, when they arrived, all I could think was, "Meh"

So I moved into my new office today, and found that in spite of my saying that "yes, that's okay with me", it did not feel okay to have someone else's things in the office. The previous occupant needs a little bit of grace to move her things out. And in that moment (which extended into a school-day long of feeling crappy and anxious), I realized, "Hey Megan, you're not as patient as you thought you were." Shit. I was afraid of that.

I have waited for a lot of things in my life, and for some of them, I am still waiting. Scratch that. I've been waiting for a lot of things for my whole life. I thought that this waiting was making me a patient person, but in fact, it isn't. I've become angry about the waiting. I'm angry with God for the hand I was dealt. I'm angry at God for not plucking me out of my own life, and giving me a similar, but easier, alternate reality. Instead of being an adult about the whole thing, I've allowed my three-year-old self to run the show, and she's constantly asking, "Are we there yet?" And I don't know what to tell her. "No, we're not there yet. I don't know when we're going to be there, or if we'll ever get there, or if I even know where it is we're supposedly going." Is that what I say?

Whatever I end up saying, I want it to be something that helps me to be more patient, that points me in the right direction, instead of where I am at the moment, the decidedly wrong direction. Somehow, I need to learn to be patient for the things I want. But it's so hard. I want it now!

Also, I'm terrible with change, so that might not be helping the situation. Prescription? More cowbell!

Not much to say

I haven't been writing much this summer, and I've especially not been writing much about thrift. Readership is down, so I assume that means that no one is interested in the meanderings of a crazed post-masters almost-30 girl, living in a garage, and pining over lost love. What can I say?

I have this deep feeling in my bones that my life is about to change drastically, but I don't know how and I don't know when. This has happened to me a couple times in my life, this odd feeling, and I have learned to just go with it, and everything will turn out okay in the end. Maybe I'll dye my hair or get a tattoo. Maybe I'll move out of the country or start singing in a band. Or maybe, just maybe, nothing will change.

Love you all :)

Differentiate yourself.

I'm not exceptionally good at describing jewelry yet.

So I'm reading this book called Passionate Marriage, by David Schnarch. I guess you could say that it's a book about sex, but it's not really. It's more a book about how sex reflects our intimate relationships in both positive and negative ways. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to give it to people as a wedding gift, maybe two copies, because the book is all about differentiation, and how we can have better relationships when we don't expect the other person to define us or affirm our worth.

In most of my relationships, I don't need other people to give me worth. That's not a hard thing for me. Maybe at one time it was, but now not so much. However, that is not the case in my closest relationships. I have so much trouble saying, "This is where I end and you begin...This is you...This is me." I take on people's problems because I "love" them, but when I do that, it communicates that I don't think that they can handle their own problems, that they need me to function properly, and that's exactly what I do not wish to communicate.

Truly intimate relationships are difficult to navigate. They take constant work, and pain. Sometimes there are easier times than others, or else we wouldn't be able to cope, and we certainly wouldn't stay together. But if being human is hard, in and of itself, then being human with another human has to be exponentially difficult.

So to all y'all out there in long-term partnerships, more power to ya :) You are each a testament to the possibility of love to triumph.

The brain fog.

Tape dispensing machine. I love those pretty buttons :)

I am in such a brain fog right now. Yesterday was super windy here in my fair city, and our cherry tree broke in half. I heard something fall against my window, and walked outside to see what it was. By the time I made it to the front door, I'd forgotten why I was there. I didn't see the tree until someone pointed it out to me later. I went to yoga soon after, hoping that some static poses would do well for my static-filled brain.

Being out of school does not bother me. I can fill time like no one's business. But my brain is not my friend. I forget things. I can't think. I spend whole minutes staring at the ceiling. I used to do that because I was depressed. Now it feels like I'm resting my brain, but I haven't done anything to rest from. A friend, who also just graduated from a masters program, told me that her blood pressure was suddenly hovering at a ridiculously low level. I think that this is what biofeedback is all about. Our bodies are telling us that they need to rest, and even though it feels like a complete turn-about from where we've just been, it is a necessary part of the recovery process.

I was in school for the better part of five years, and I got pressed to limits I didn't know I had. So now, I'm just going to stare at the ceiling for a while, because I forgot what this paragraph was going to be about.

Peace out mofos.

Welcome back Selena :)

Vintage Vera scarf from the late 1950s

Welcome back to another edition of "Thrift Share Monday", a post where thrifting finds are shared with the thrift world at-large.

This vintage Vera scarf has been sitting in my storage for maybe six months. I haven't listed it, because every time I look at it, I think, "This isn't in good-enough condition to sell", but then I don't get rid of it. So today, I am listing it, and we'll just have to see what happens.

Coach purse

My first every Coach purchase. We'll just have to see what happens. Oh dear, I just said that. It's pretty much my new philosophy on life. It's hopeful, but not too deranged. It's mature without being a pain-in-the-ass. Oh wait, I think I am being a pain in the ass. Shoot.

New in package - unopened - So cool

I found this embroidery kit listed for $120 on someone's non-eBay site. I often wonder how people do when they set up their own online shops that are not affiliated with a larger entity. I know there are lots out there. I just don't think I have the kind of name recognition to go off on my own, nor do I particularly want to.

I've been thinking about closing my Etsy shop. It doesn't make very much money (I'm gonna go check on this statement right now). Well, it made $1100 last year, and $550 so far this year. Maybe I'm expecting too much. I don't know. I guess I am frustrated because it means that every time I purchase something, I have to decide where it would fit, and lately I have not been thinking about my Etsy shop at all. Does it even have a purpose, or a theme? What is it? I can't answer these questions, so I'm wondering if it's time to close it down in favor of putting all of my energy into my eBay shop, which I love and enjoy.

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

Feelings of lost-ness

Handmade Hmong quilted wall hanging

There is a deep melancholy that comes with graduating. My bachelors degree came and went, and I don't quite recall what I did afterwards. I kept my three jobs, and enjoyed quality book time and wandering the aisles at the public library. I think I mostly just lost myself in a terrible relationship that all started with a black string bikini and a Winnebago. I started training for an Ironman triathlon, and got diagnosed with diabetes and epilepsy.

Graduating didn't make my life fall apart, but it gave me less structure to cope when life did fall apart. I think I've created a significant structure now that will help to alleviate some of that lost-ness that I experienced eight years ago. Mostly I need to ride out the weirdness. Maybe I'll also go to the beach a couple times.

Grad Plans #2

I am having so much anxiety about the overarching theme of graduation. Sure, the ceremony will be great, and the banquet, and the time with family and friends. But this burning in my chest is more than indigestion; it's total fear.

People in my cohort have jobs. People in my cohort are going to get paid, and soon. And I am going to continue to do the things I've been doing all along, because change would be too much for me. Is that sad? Pathetic? I'm not sure that it isn't. There are student loans to pay, and health insurance options to find. And somehow I'm stuck. My brain is stuck. I can't move. I've panicked into stillness.

The beginning of this year, for various reasons (i.e. moving), was horrific. So I'm gradually shifting into the next phase, and that has to be okay for me. I have to accept myself and all of my limitations. I have to accept that I need time and space, and piles of books from the library to ease the transition. I need to order my Slovenia: 1945 book and start to dream again about writing. I need space to move around in. I need rest, and silence, and lots and lots of hugs.

And then, eventually, when I least expect it, I can move on.

One fatal flaw

Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.

Maya Angelou

I am obsessed with keeping my computer clean and orderly. And in the past two weeks, this has come back to bite me in the ass, and not in an ass-scarring kind of way, but an ass-maiming kind of way. I lost an editing job I spent a day working on. Tonight, I lost a page of notes from meetings that cannot be recovered. I just spent the last half-hour going through the recycling bin and putting together the puzzle pieces of the printed copy I'd torn up (the details really don't matter).

I can't keep living this way. I can't keep obsessing about "computer baggage". I need to start holding on to things, not because they're important, but because it puts me in the mindset to hold onto things so that when something actually important comes around, I don't act like a dipshit and throw it away.

Dear self - In an attempt to protect yourself, you've created a world where you leave no trace, where you quietly enter and exit rooms so that no one notices you. And for a time, that was a good skill. It kept you safe, and you did a really good job staying safe in very dangerous and ugly situations. But now, life is different, and you don't need to cover your tracks anymore. You can leave footprints. You can be visible. It's going to take some time, but this is a first step. Buying a jump-drive is probably sufficient, but you might need to purchase an external hard drive. I'm sorry that this lesson has been so painful and stressful. Life lessons often are. But don't beat yourself up over it. You did the best you could. Now, you know better, and you're gonna do better. Much love. - M

It's too bad I'm not urban.

I am so enjoying my tiny little apartment. It's really too bad that it's not ideal for a long-term solution. The space itself is okay, but not having a kitchen is clearly a problem, as is being connected to someone else's garage. I'm starting to dream about a tiny little place of my own, but I think that a small place in a good location would be difficult to find. I think that there are a lot of mother-in-law places on my street, but I don't know if that would be a good long-term solution either. I want something that I can stay in. I want to have enough space for my stuff, and a little wiggle room, but not too much. I like to feel cozy.

I used to have a one bedroom place. It was a duplex. Later I lived in a studio which was also a duplex. I preferred the one bedroom. It was small, but very well organized. My kitchen was large enough to cook, and I had a washer and dry hooked up in there as well. The trouble with that place was that the landlords were ridiculous about the lawn, but refused to put in sprinklers. So in the end, it was a battle over me not wanting to water crab grass in 110 degree weather, and them wanting the crab grass to be green. I'd come home to a threatening hose on my front porch as a warning. Ridiculous.

I have a lot to say about landlords, and some things I've been thinking about in terms of ethics and city planning. Perhaps tomorrow...

Cheers!

Throw away government?

 

Election season makes me crazy. Living in the US means that it's pretty much always election season. Somehow it's the norm for everyone to put their energy into candidates, instead of their communities. Millions of dollars are spent by individuals who believe that their candidate will make their life better. But what has government ever done for you? Has it given you a hug when you were tired and sad? Did it make you a sandwich when you were hungry? Did it give you a place to live when you were homeless? Or did it mostly just flap its gums telling you to pay attention to it?

How about this election season, you make a conscious choice to invest in your community, so that next time election season rolls around, you care less about who might get elected, and more about what you're doing to bring positive change in your community.

Am I a white moderate?

It's only the beginning of March, but I'm tired. I'm ready for the school year to end. I'm ready to rest. Honestly, I'm less anxious when I'm not in school, more carefree. I feel no guilt for reading trashy books, and I feel no guilt for reading on my couch for days on end. Maybe I'll even do what I said I'd do last summer and put my hammock up in the backyard. Who knows what could happen?

I am feeling sick, but I want to stay up and watch more television and read more blog posts from my online friends. I think I need to parent myself and make myself go to bed early.

Martin Luther King Jr's "Letter from Birmingham Jail" came up today in a meeting. If you need some inspiration, I suggest reading it at some point. It's especially interesting to read what MLK had to say about "white moderates" and how they are blocking the path to true peace. It makes me wonder how I am behaving in this way. Am I ignoring injustice because it's inconvenient?

I'm gonna sleep on it. Peace out mofos.

Where do you get your toilet paper?

I get my 100% recycled toilet paper at our local Fresh & Easy. I like to purchase 100% recycled paper products as often as possible. I get my mailing supplies from thrift stores, or reuse stores, and I use recycled materials from the recycling and trash bins for the stuffing. I know it sounds weird, but it's simple and clean (unless I make the unfortunate mistake of sending send old bread bags to a person with a wicked wheat allergy-that might cause me more problems than I'm willing to deal with).

I need a new car.

 

I need a new car. I am done being a teenager with my old beater. I've had my youth. Now I want to be an adult. I'm tired of climbing in the back hatch because my doors won't open. I'm tired of the doors not opening. I'm tired of it being cold in the winter and hot in the summer. I'm done. It's time.

I just don't know how to make a new car happen. My meager subsistence is not enough to afford me any kind of vehicle other than my own. But to put another dollar into that damn thing will be the end of me. So I need a plan. Here are the options my friend and I came up with this evening. Option-creating is a no-holds-barred event. No option is too stupid when we're trying to develop a list of possibilities. So this is the beginning of the process. As it continues, the list will whittle down.

• Call my alien friends and ask them to send me a car
• Get a car loan from a bank
• Take out more student loan money next semester
• Find a sugar daddy

The rest of the list is not G-rated, so I won't be explicit. I need a car. I know what I want. Now I need to figure out how to get what I want.

I love you...goodbye

There was a time in my life when I had to give up every vice. I think I tried to give things up for God, like God cared about my love for chocolate/peanut butter ice cream. For Lent one year, I gave up ten things. It was ridiculous. I think I tried to fast too (as in not eating for days). I was trying to purge my life of everything I thought God wanted me to get rid of. It was very monkish of me. I've joked for a long time about becoming a nun. It's probably because I've struggled for a long time thinking that I am a terrible person (I'm completely over that now).

Well, those attempts failed. My love for chocolate/peanut butter ice cream hasn't gone anywhere, and I'm not troubled by it. I have, however, gone to the grocery store three times this week looking for my SO Delicious and it's been all gone-every freakin time! But I digress...

The point is, sometimes the things we think are vices are really less important than the negative thoughts we think about ourselves and other people, and the negative influences we allow into our lives. Sometimes these influences are people. Sometimes, as painful as it is (and believe me, I've lived the unbelievable pain), it's the only way to move forward. Maybe someday you can return, but you have to grow and change on your own before you can return to those who you've worked with to become the broken person you are today.

I highly recommend Laura Davis's book I Thought We'd Never Speak Again. I have a wonderful ex-library copy by my bed that I read when I'm feeling particularly blue. It gives me hope that loss can be a good thing, and that I am currently becoming the person I want to be, and maybe, just maybe, someday things will be different.

I've been convicted

My Amazon jungle front yard.

So I freely use tape on my packaging. I often use recycled or reused packaging products (come on, I go through the trash at the post office for extra cushioning). But I've been buying shipping tape at the dollar store for quite a long time. Well eBay has convicted me with their "green" marketing campaign. It seems that regular tape is not biodegradable. Who knew? Well, I did, but I wasn't really paying attention.

I have now purchased water-activated tape, which is made of paper, and is biodegradable, and usually made from 100% recycled materials (awesome). But of course, it's more expensive, and not at the dollar store (at least, I don't think it is-I haven't checked). So I will now be making my packages that much more great by not adding to the landfills in any way with regular clear tape (I got mine through eBay).

Obviously this creates a real problem for all you parents out there. Those kiddies sure love the duct tape, don't they?