Hug a veteran :)

A Charles Schultz ode to veterans on Armistice Day (11/11)

There was a purple station wagon in the parking lot when I pulled up to one of my favorite thrift stores this afternoon. It was dotted with silver-toned ephemera, lots of crosses. I got to meet the owner at the cash register, and I'm really glad I did. Turns out he was a POW in Vietnam, and the purple on the car matched the purple heart license plate. He was also covered in silver-toned ephemera, with a Western-style outfit and pristine cowboy boots. He said that he never sleeps, so he makes jewelry and decorates his car. It's his thing. I assume it keeps him alive.

This article reports that one US veteran suicides approximately every hour (average of 22 a day, higher than previous calculations). 'Purple Car Man' reminded me of how important it is for people to have something that they find joy in, that keeps them busy, helps them to find meaning, etc. Of course it's never that simple, but it's a big thing. It keeps blood flowing in important areas of the brain, encourages human contact, maybe even increases the input of sunshine.

I can imagine that when people come home from war, minor hobby-ish things seem incidental, perhaps even silly and a waste of time. But unfortunately, this way of thinking keeps the trauma of war close at all times, increasing paranoia, and disconnectedness.

Thought of the day: Hug a veteran :)

Recycled bubble wrap :)

A reselling blogger sells these all the time - I have been less successful

So a part of being "The Recycling Ethic" is in trying to use recycled materials as much as possible. I'm pretty picky about what I buy for shipping, because I'm constantly using shipping materials, and so this is the area I have the most potential for creating waste (or lack thereof). So I buy recycled labels and envelopes. I use all kraft tape, no plastic tape. Blah, blah, blah. I'm so awesome.

For a while, I've been buying bubble wrap from someone across the country who recycles large bubble wrap. I don't know where the product originates, but it comes taped together with masking tape, so it even looks recycled. But recently, I found a new recycled bubble wrap seller on eBay, and it's only a few hours away from me (a couple hundred miles), so I don't have to wait as long for it to arrive. Somehow the seller saves this pristine bubble wrap from a large-scale furniture company, and resells it (at what appears to be a zero profit margin) to continue the waste-reduction cycle.

Anyhow, we're kindred spirits, this bubble wrap recycler and I. And though we are small, insignificant eBay sellers who sell trash on the internets, I believe that our awesomeness will somehow surreptitiously seep into our packages, and influence our customers, who will then continue the cycle, and on and on.

I've been wanting to buy this stamp for ages, but it seems too decadent. It does need to be said, however, since I'm expecting that my customers are kindred spirits. I shouldn't assume though. I should make it clear that in addition to the recycled product you are purchasing, I also want to invite you to participate by reusing the packaging.

All for now :)

I like to use the word 'freakishly'

I am occasionally overly optimistic, and freakishly committed to people who hurt me. It's an endearing quality in my mind, but it can put me in dangerous situations, situations that truly jeopardize my physical and emotional well-being. And then, on the flip side, is the reality that people we love will inevitably hurt us, and vice-versa!

One moment in my life that I will never forget is this awful fight (years ago) I had with my best friend. She was yelling, calling names. I was crying, begging her to stop. I was hurt, disappointed, and totally confused. She loved me. I loved her. How could something so awful happen (and it was awful)? That was a turning point for me in my ability to forgive, and in my ability to really see people three-dimensionally, and to accept that the people who love us will probably hurt us more than anyone else, and it's up to us to decide what to do about that. Do we throw away relationships after one horrible fight, or do we do the hard work of repairing?

After that fight, I've began to notice that close relationships aren't as perfect as I'd once imagined them to be (or fantasized about them being). For example, a few months ago, I had a total meltdown and yelled at a few friends in a not-so-kind way for trying to do something helpful for me. I had to get a major talking-to, and I had to eat it big time. For whatever reason, it was so difficult to admit that I was wrong. I had a right to be mad! They were wrong! But that wasn't what the situation was really about. It was about protecting relationships that mattered to me. And that was worth more than my ego.

Just something I'm chewing on today. Peace out :)

Delusion.

Pewter and Turquoise - pewter is a funny word.

I'm attempting to sort out some things in my brain at the moment. I use the word attempting loosely. I've been doing it for a couple days, but mostly I'm left just staring at the ceiling, in a daze. I think I've written some poems, and I'll probably write some more, but I don't know if that's even sufficient.

I like to have control. It's a safe feeling. It's a delusional feeling, but safe all the same. But these past two months have been completely out of my control, bringing things into my life that seriously seemed previously unthinkable and impossible. When I was in school, there was a rhythm. Predictable things happened. I worked all the time, and I was exhausted most of the time, and my brain was tired with all of the neurotransmitters being connected. But in the midst of exhaustion was a sense of certainty, that there was a goal at the end of every road, even an ultimate goal. But now there is no ultimate goal, just lots of learning new things and falling down, and standing back up and continuing on. There are no grades, no end to projects, no certainty about the future (again, delusional thinking).

I wonder how much most people fear stability, the quiet of the present moment, the constant unknown and lack of control. My insides get twisted up, and have to be untwisted, and that takes a little while, and a lot of staring at the ceiling.

Peace out :)

Macaroni & Cheese

I'm thinking about getting myself a personal masseuse :)

So I'm sitting here drinking wine. I can't remember the last time I bought alcohol with the intent to actually drink it, but here I am, quite happy.

Last year, at the end of the day, it was sometimes hard to go to yoga (maybe it'll get more difficult when dumb daylight savings happens) after work, but I'm starting to need it to get through the day with enough energy to do another one tomorrow. I've got to hand it to the annoying adults in my life; I really didn't know what was coming. Being whole and present all the time is awesome, but it also means that I have to get up every morning and go to work. I have to show up every day, the same way I did the day before. It can get old after a while, the sameness of it.

My childhood made me very comfortable with chaos, with freaking out about little things. But now, there is no room to flip out about the little things. I have to spare my energy for the important things, the people in need, and my own health. So when I had health insurance troubles for the umpteenth time this afternoon, I didn't have room to lose it. I had to keep moving forward, keep going to meetings, keep doing my job, keep being constant and stable.

But after all of that, I went to yoga, and admitted to everyone that yes, I was feeling "poo poo" about everything. Then I made macaroni and cheese (I still haven't stopped being in love with Daiya), wrote a poem, drank some wine, and now I'm done.

Peace out.

Solitude.

Bjorn Wiinblad, Nymolle Denmark-"August Bye Bye"

What is necessary, after all, is only this: solitude, vast inner solitude. To walk inside yourself and meet no one for hours - that is what you must be able to attain. To be solitary as you were when you were a child, when the grownups walked around involved with matters that seemed large and important because they looked so busy and because you didn't understand a thing about what they were doing.

Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet - #6)

"This is my confession..."

Well, just like Usher said in that far-off, how-does-time-go-by-so-fast, year of 2004, this is my confession: I hate debt. I hate it so much. I was raised by a freakin' refugee, people. No wonder I'm so neurotic about money.

I almost didn't finish graduate school because I realized how much it was going to cost me. It felt wrong. It felt unethical. But I got a good talking-to by my parents, and recognized that money is money, and an education is priceless, and my earning potential, blah, blah, blah. I bought into it. And now I have a masters degree and I still live in a garage. Now I could probably live in a larger garage if I weren't working so hard to pay off my debt, but I really don't make that much money. I am, after all, working two jobs.

I'm figuring that it's going to take me a good five years to get out of this hole, and those are five impoverished years. Let's remember that I don't even eat meat. Frugal is my middle name. Oh the injustice of it all! But I digress. I had a freak-out today (this was earlier; obviously now I can form whole sentences), wherein I screamed at the heavens in the presence of a safe person, that life isn't fair, and sugar daddies, and selling my soul, and why-can't-the-world-not-suck-so-much. It's occasionally difficult to accept the lot of a sacrificial person, a supposedly voluntary sacrificial person. I mean, even the Apostle Paul had plenty! If or when that ever happens to me, I won't know what to do with it.

But in the meantime, I will continue to be my thrifty self, shop at discard food places (shut up haters), and recycle like nobody's business.

Peace out.

Perhaps all is not lost.

Vintage, handwoven, Scotland, mohair, hot pink!

...And one more thing: Don't think that the great love which was once granted to you, when you were a boy, has been lost; how can you know whether vast and generous wishes didn't ripen in you at that time, and purposes by which you are still living today? I believe that that love remains so strong and intense in your memory because it was your first deep aloneness and the first inner work that you did on your life...

Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet - #7)

Olympic Swimming :)

French Lead Crystal Goblets - Pompadour Pattern

I am having so much trouble watching the Olympics. It makes me really sad. I had to have a talk with myself this afternoon to get over the disappointment. I had to figure out why I was sad.

When I was a kid, let's see, over the past almost 30 years, I have seen many Olympic games. It was always a beloved thing in my family, and every four years, we sat together and enjoyed the solidarity and beauty of the games. As an adolescent, my swim coach brought a television to the pool and we'd watch in between sets. National-level swimming got me through high school, in a way. The idea of somehow rising to that level kept me motivated to train for years on end. The Olympics were like some far-off dream of all that swimming was meant to be. They inspired me to think big, even when those who believed in me most told me I'd never measure up.

And I didn't. I was a mediocre swimmer at best. I was the hardest worker in the pool, and certainly formidable as a high school swimmer in a small country pond, but as a year-round club swimmer, I was always in the middle of the pack, usually on the slower end. The Olympics make me sad because they represent the idea that we each have greatness inside of us, that we each have the capacity to be "The Best" at some thing. But now that I'm an adult, and my competitive swimming days are done (and I'm glad about that), I don't know how I'm gonna find greatness in my life. I don't know how I'm going to prove to myself that I'm good enough. I thought those letters after my name would help, but they really don't.

I imagine that at the end of the day, gold medals aren't that awesome anyway for those who win them. I imagine that they feel amazing for a while, as well they should, but then life goes quickly back to normal, and the winner still has to face their own humanity. That's how life seems to work out for me anyway.

There was a time, a moment in time, that I was crazy fast (crazy stupid fast). And when that moment passed, I was done swimming. I proved to myself that I had it in me, and then I was done. I got out of that pool, and never looked back. So when I have moments like this, like I'm having right now, wishing my life had turned out differently, I remember that moment, and it's all worth it.

Rilke

Frye Boots - Women's Size 11 - A rare find!

Love consists in this, that two solitudes protect and border and salute each other.

Rainer Maria Rilke (Letters to a Young Poet)

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.

What I won't buy

I buy food from discard food stores that look like they should be shut down. This includes vitamins, coffee, tampons (which I've recently given up completely), and cereal.

I always buy used shoes and clothing. I recently bought a new container of baby powder. I buy bras, but not in bad condition, and I NEVER buy underwear. I really went through it a couple years back trying to figure out how to solve the "underwear in thrift stores" problem, but to no avail.

I buy swimsuits that do not appear to be used. I buy stuffed animals very rarely if they're vintage. Most of the thrift stores I go to are very happy to test items, or mark them as tested, so I would have no problem buying blenders or food processors.

Now I'm on a roll.

Rugs can be cleaned. Comforters can be cleaned. Let's reuse instead of buying new!

Also, I'm a big fan of cleaning products that don't hurt the earth, but clean the stuff I get at thrift stores, because I get a lot of stuff that needs cleaning, and it isn't worth the purchase if it can't be reused effectively, or if it's going to gross someone out or make someone sick.

My comment on a recent post from Thrift Core

Oh man, after I wrote this, I reread it, and realized how marginal I am. I love who I am, but in some ways, I worry about exposing these parts of myself to other people. I don't want people to be disgusted by me. But I also am very passionate about figuring out ways to use what is already available. I'm all about the dumpster diving, but I only do it for boxes, because I have an image to maintain for my real job and all. Also, I have an autoimmune disease, and I don't like to mess around with that. But I completely support it, and think everyone should do it.

Ingrate.

A mug depicting Picasso's 1954 bullfighting poster

You know when your friends are the biggest jerks in the world, and you feel like such a martyr, but also an awesome person because you forgive them and continue to love them? Yeah, that's you being an asshole, and by you, I mean me. Because it feels like shit on the other side, to be that friend who is a humungous jerk, who didn't do it on purpose, who felt completely justified in the moment. Oh man, I'm remembering all those times I felt like a pious martyr, bestowing grace upon my poor ingrate friends who couldn't hold it together long enough to treat me well.

Well, it doesn't feel so great on the other side. It feels really scary, scary because your friend might decide that enough is enough and call it quits, or they might treat you as you deserve to be treated, like the asshole that you are. Or they might just be the bigger person, and forgive you. Man, life is hard, and not at all black-and-white. It takes work to not throw people away.

My Spanish vocabulary words for the week are pundejo (asshole) and junta or reunion (meeting). I have been working really hard at watching seasons of Weeds to learn Spanish, and listening to people talk to one another in thrift stores.

Mira, Mama, mira!

Helga.

My parents have a cleaning lady. She is disorganized and is constantly misplacing important things. The conversation goes, "Oh no! Helga will be here in 15 minutes. Hide your stuff!" Seriously, it's ridiculous. I have told them a dozen times that they need to let her go, that she isn't doing a good job, and they shouldn't be paying someone to do such a terrible job. Yet she remains.

I just spoke with my mom, and the issue of Helga came up. She is up to her same old shenanigans (though she is not Irish), and I think I'm now reconciled to this reality. She cleans the house. She does a bad job, but she does it, and they need the help. They both work constantly, and need someone to come in regularly to make sure that they don't get buried beneath student papers.

This woman is unemployable in any other situation. It's a gift to allow her to be herself and not demand that she change who she is, or become a person different from who she is (Don't even get me started on how she doesn't bring her own cleaning products). Anyhow, the moral of the story is to allow people to be who they are. I don't exactly believe it in this instance, but I do appreciate the fact that my parents are far less judgmental and stingy than I am.

:) :) :) :) :) :) :)

8oz Starbucks travel mug

The moment you have in your heart this extraordinary thing called love and feel the depth, the delight, and the ecstasy of it, you will discover that the world is transformed.

J. Krishnamurti

My old car, the one I sold, had a wonderful bumper sticker on it from Krishnamurti. I wish I could remember it, so I'm gonna go look it up. Oh yay! It was orange, and it said (in a fantastic purple font), "It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society". It felt so Me, and I felt like it completely reflected who I am, or was at the time. I still think it reflects who I am, but now the car is gone, and the sentiment remains. I had a wonderful conversation last night about the Hunger Games (the movie, particularly), and I think that there was consensus that the world is a sick place, and not always for the reasons people think. Sometimes we ignore the real sickness so we can focus on the things that make us uncomfortable.

How's that for an inspiring post?! Go out and make the world a better place! Oh, I forgot to tell you all that while I was walking the dog last night, I found a discarded wicker coffee table in the alley and I carried it home like 3/4 of a mile in one hand, and the dog in the other. So now we have a patio coffee table and chairs, and the weather has been SO lovely that I want to be outside all the time! I need to walk down the alley more often. Oh, and I also think it's important to note that I will always be the person who picks up trash in the alley and makes it useful. That's just who I am.

Single and in need

Oil + vinegar + seasonings = Homemade dressing

Are you married, or partnered? Is there a single (i.e. unmarried) person in your life that you love to love? If not, get one, and soon. The fate of single-kind rests in your hands. We are weak and unorganized. We tend to gather in groups, but real unity doesn't always stick. We need more stable entities to ground us, hold us to a neighborhood, a home. We need people who will stay even when that staying is not a civil agreement marked by the courts.

I don't know when I first started adopting families. I was probably about fifteen or so. I needed something that my own environment wasn't providing, and I looked far and wide for something boring to latch onto. I found that stable boring wonderful something in my best friend and her parents, who sat down every night at 9pm to have dinner together. I was always welcomed warmly, though I never had anything to give beyond my strong dish-washing abilities ;) Those moments helped me stay grounded in a chaotic world, and have served as a template for other families and other dinners.

Tonight, I shared one such dinner. We discussed pink slime and my current employment status. Many strawberries were eaten, and I had an extra helping of salad. It was wonderful because it was shared. I don't sit at home and cry when I eat dinner by myself. I enjoy silence quite a lot, and often long for it during the chaos of the day. But there are times, usually Saturday nights, when all I want is a family to eat dinner with. So thanks to all of my family friends, who welcome me warmly into their homes no matter what I'm wearing, or how much I monopolize the conversation.

A challenging task

 

I am not feeling so great about myself right now. I feel like people are judging me for having a masters degree and not having a solid plan for my life. And these aren't imaginary people - these are people I love! So I'm sitting here trying to convince myself that somehow it's more important to be myself than it is to be who other people expect me to be, even when those people are the people I love most in the world. That's a challenging task.

In school, I had a teacher who scared me, and no matter how much time I spent with this person, I never felt truly accepted. I felt small, and insignificant; not enough. As time went by, I realized that even though I respected this person more than I respected myself, I had to let go of the need to be accepted by them. In order to maintain my own sanity, I had to throw away the idea that my identity somehow hinged on their perception of me, even though that perception was super important to how I saw myself as a person and professional.

So now to be faced with that same dilemma in any form is only a stiff reminder of how important it is to love myself first. I will crumble if I allow an imagined perception of someone else's judgement to determine who I am, even though my faith tells me that other people are more important than me.

Thrift Share Monday :)

I'm on a total mug kick, inspired by The Recycle-ista and her penchant for finding Starbucks mugs. For whatever reason, I love buying mugs and photographing them and selling them. I love that I get to add a bit of fun to someone's morning coffee or tea (or late night soy milk, my newest fave).

The more I resell, the more I find that I am committed to making the world a better place through reselling used goods. That kinda sounds silly when I read it in my head, but that's why I do it. That's pretty much why I do everything, and I don't always succeed. For example, I dropped the ball and two Heath mugs broke in transit to their buyer this week. The shame! So after sending a full refund, I immediately went on eBay and bought some pre-owned bubble wrap (unpopped bubbles though, so no worries).

It is not okay that my shipping record is less than perfect. But, unfortunately, my failure in packaging can easily be tied to my emotional handicaps. I don't always protect myself sufficiently. I pack with newspaper when bubble wrap is needed.

 

On a lighter note, I am having new ideas! I want to reform the underground housecleaning community to become more marketable, for their own financial benefit, by using all-natural products. I want to put outdoor shades outside my single pane windows so my apartment isn't so hot this summer. I want to create some wort of workstation for packing and shipping so my apartment isn't so crazy-making. Summer is coming, and I'm excited!

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

My pending memoir :)

Retreats are awesome! Every once in a while, I should find a place and just go. Of course, this time, I'm working the entire time and I'm physically and mentally exhausted, but someday, I will not be a student, and maybe I can write a novel or my ever-pending memoir. Imagine the possibilities! Blue sky outside the window, maybe a beach, or some other wonderful view. It's lovely to be with someone you love too. It makes the whole thing enjoyable, even if it's work.

Also, the television show that I'm newly hooked on at this particular moment-watching it at the end of a long day is all the sweeter after so much mind-numbing paper-writing.

A writers retreat :)

So, a friend and I have decided to create a DIY writers retreat this weekend. I have a tendency to commit a day or two to something, but then sit in my apartment the whole time and get nothing done. Well, my senior paper, my final paper of graduate school is on the line, and from my general reticence over the past couple months, I think we can all agree that some serious writing needs to be done, and it needs to be done soon.

Today was a long day. It was full by itself, but it was also the first day I'd been out of bed since being sick. My caloric intake still needs to be increased for a couple days to make up for the under-load, as it were. I'm going to take a couple days now to write, and eat, and not worry about money, or the future, or anything else. I hope it works.