Actually, you're pretty awesome.

We all have baggage. We've all made decisions we regret. I mean, if you're over the age of 30, you've had lovers, haters, and maybe even some pregnancies. You've been drunk one too many times, written one too many poems on your arm, and made out with the wrong person in front of a room full of people.

You've dropped out of school. You've broken up with the love of your life, "...because while he was sweet and sexy and basic, you were afraid you wouldn't be able to discuss Russian novels together (The Deep End of the Ocean, Jacquelyn Mitchard)." You've listened to more Phil Collins and Taylor Swift than you care to admit. You have a tattoo of someone's name that treated you badly. You've loved other people, taken care of other people, more than you've taken care of yourself.

You've hurt people on purpose, and said nasty things that still haunt you. But you deserve to be loved unconditionally, with abandon, just like everyone else, no matter what you've done.

I'm hooked.

House of Lloyd - 1988

I'm currently drinking out of a mug that says You're Sensational with a rainbow shooting star. I figured I needed some more positive energy with my morning coffee. The news just isn't doing it for me.

I think I went on a thrifting binge today. Three stores. $50. If it helps, I donated a huge box of stuff I'm done with. I really need to go through my clothing. One of my drawers is way too full. I think I've accumulated more clothing that I like and look good in than I have in the past. However, I just saw a photo of myself and it was not so great. I think I need to figure out how to just deal with what I look like. It's a lifetime of work.

So there's this guy that I'm talking to from my online relationship forays. We've sent several emails back and forth, and I kinda like him. The process is making me more of an adult. I'm usually more like a horny child (see here-oh no, now I've distracted myself with SNL). I don't know what it is. I'm trying to figure it out. I think it has to do somewhat with preconceptions about the process and how it works. We act as if we care. We put forward our best selves because that's what we want to be seen. Yikes, this sounds like dating in general. Maybe I've underestimated my own abilities, or maybe I'm reaching some sort of synergistic epoch where all of my wisdom and knowledge are working together for the first time in synchronicity instead of some sort of haphazard experiment.

I'll be in touch. Stay tuned.

Coffee filters don't degrade quickly.

 

I have begun transferring dirt from the rotting pile to the dirt pile. I have a cement double sink outside and I use it to compost my crap. The coffee filters are ridiculous, but everything else seems to decompose pretty quickly. I'm going to have to start using the dirt for something, but I'm not much of a gardener. I'm more of a dirt lover, a maker of mud pies and the like. I don't know. I guess I just feel like it's a guaranteed failure. I kill plants, so I figure I'll just keep things from dying and never try.

If you know something is going to fail, is there really any sense in trying? I started an MA program 4.5 years ago, and it was clear from the beginning that I was not going to make it. I fell apart so often that I lived in an almost constant suicidal depression. I was in over my head before I even knew what was happening, and I was a pretty smart cookie. I grasped at anything and everything, used sex to cope, and in a kind of broken-down delusional state, was still left with an intangible determination.

Now here I am, all these years later, and I am a different person. Few people got to see the transition-it was ugly and I remember little of it. But I know that it happened, because I am alive. Somehow, in the end, I got composted. And like non-food products, I was pretty tough to break down.

Normalizing differences

I'm too smart for my own good sometimes. Sometimes my intelligence leads me to be judgmental and impatient with other people, instead of compassionate and understanding. I was the clumsy, daydreaming kid who didn't have common sense. Now I treat children in some of the same ways that I was treated. Well, I don't treat them that way, but I do get annoyed in my head, and have to work extra hard to be patient.

So all in all, I'm not failing. But my difficulty in this area reminds me to slow down, and think about the situation from the child's perspective. What must it feel like to not know how to do something in the presence of an adult? That must be so scary, and shameful. How could a kid admit that they don't understand if the adult understands everything? I need to remember to foster a culture where asking for help is normalized and being wrong, or "failing" is not indicative of a person's core worth.

Seriously, you're all amazing.

Caitlin, of "To Make Love Stay", wrote this post recently. I read it, and was inspired.

I've been really feverish today, and feeling like all the kinds of my worst self. For some strange reason, I keep thinking about sharing space with another person, and how impossible that seems in this moment. My crap is everywhere. I have one sink, in the bathroom. It is my only water source. I do the dishes in the bathroom sink. There. I said it. Be disgusted by me.

I keep thinking, "Why would another person want to live with me?" I don't know why this suddenly seems important, but there's something so amazing to me about committed relationships. You don't just put up with the other person; you expose yourself to that other person, every friggin day. You can't hide anything: your weird smells, your whining, your moods, your weird smells, all of the bizarre things you feed yourself, how often you stare at your own pores in the mirror, how often you return through the front door in the morning because you forgot something, how much stuff you actually buy at thrift stores, how many doctors appointments you actually have, and on, and on, and on...Who would subject him or herself to this?

So yes, sometimes, I marvel at the human tendency to commune with itself. Even in all of our disgustingness, we continue to befriend, love, procreate, teach, help, and endure with one another. We take care of our children. Some of us even go so far as to adore our children, tend to them, cuddle with them, and let them throw up all over us. We are all one big mess, together.

It never ceases to amaze me.