Quote of the day :)

She did not believe that she could ever stop hating Nicky and Lee, until her pastor told her that when God was going to do something wonderful, it started with something hard, and when God was going to do something exquisite, He or She started with an impossibility.

Anne Lamott, Blue Shoe

Silver everything.

I've sold a fair bit of silver in the past month or so. I sold a lot of odd-and-ends sterling jewelry. I sold a set of three sterling soup spoons. I sold a set of matching cufflinks and a tie pin. I'm a fan.

I bought the soup spoons with these knives. I couldn't believe that I actually found sterling spoons, as in, full size sterling silver spoons. I felt like I'd won the freakin' lottery. So when they weren't selling, I spent a couple hours really trying to figure out what the pattern was, since the pattern wasn't matching anything the manufacturer ever made in sterling. Eventually I was able to name the pattern, and that's when they sold. $150 for three spoons. Heavenly.

I'm off to a memorial service in the morning. My bff will be accompanying me for emotional support. I don't know what I'll be walking into, who I'll see from my past, who will be nasty (it's happened before). I'm right on the edge of feeling capable of staying in one solid adult-sized piece the whole time. I will likely be getting pan dulce for the road, with my favorite cafe con canela. Food is inextricably linked to my emotional health (thanks diabetes!). But really, food makes me feel capable in a deeper way than the provision of energy. Food gives me literal and figurative fuel for the journey. Isn't that weird, how something so primitive can become so inextricably linked to who we are?

Chew on that, yo.

Oh the heat :(

I just found out that there's a new, super awesome, biannual flea market in my area, and they're having the first event in less than a month. First thought? Omg. Omg. Omg. I have to do it! Second thought? Oh shit. I can't. For several minutes, these two thoughts fought, but in the end, the second one has won out.

My body shuts down in 100 degree heat. And coincidentally, the past few days have been hellacious. So I'm not feeling very hopeful about the coming summer. I'm concerned that I'm reaching some kind of physical brick wall in relation to my ability to live in a super hot place. It frightens me to think that my body cannot live in the place where I live. Or maybe I'm overreacting, and the past few days have just been a strange response to a strange May heat-wave.

We'll see. But I don't think the flea market is going to happen. The rummage sale was possible because it wasn't hot. Also, there's a big three digit fee to have a booth, and I'm not rollin' in cash. Ok, I'll try to be more positive from here on out.

I love you, all of you :)

It's a belt buckle! Isn't it so pretty?

I've always been tall and awkward, and being thin makes me feel less like a total troll, but I still feel it sometimes. Early on, I developed a tough exterior to cope with the teasing I received throughout elementary school, all of which had to do with how I looked. How I look can bother me. It matters to me, because it is the thing that can either lead to teasing, or help me to avoid it. I like to pretend that I have control, even though I know I don't.

Last week, the day before Valentine's Day, two thrift store employees had gotten off their shift and were looking through the lingerie to find something special. One was totally committed to the project; the other, less so and was berating herself in front of the mirror we were sharing, "I can't wear this!", My butt would look too big and he'd be distracted by it!" And for whatever reason, I felt like it was my responsibility to tell this woman, emphatically, that there was nothing wrong with her, or her body, and that anyone who thought so had a problem. So I did. And she listened. I felt good about myself.

I wish I had never been the recipient of someone telling me that I was fat, or ugly, or disgusting. I wish that no one ever did. But for whatever reason, most people have felt these things, experienced these things, and then we all, collectively, internalize those messages and believe them about ourselves.

So I am now taking brief moments, all the time, in thrift stores, to send positive messages to women trying on clothing, to join with the sisterhood, so to speak, in an effort to turn the tide, however slightly :)

Daaaaaaamn girl! You look gooooood.

The Bachelor.

Vintage boobie shirt- a real winner :)

So as we all know, I love to talk about what I think, and reality television allows me constant fodder for discussion.

This season of The Bachelor brings us much more of the same: people stuck into unrealistic situations, manipulated to produce false romantic feelings, and constant drama and tears. Private islands, diamonds, and couture, do not a real relationship make. Which is fine, I mean, loads of people meet under strange circumstances, and somehow manage to eek out reasonable relationships. But life isn't perfect, and truth is stranger than the falsehood of false celebrity. So by the time the show is over, and everyone has fallen in and out of love, the reality of true life, real ugly human life, shows up, and no amount of célébrité is going to rewind the romance back to the bright lights and giddiness of the television show.

So every time the producers interview some woman who hasn't gotten a rose, and she's asking "Why? Why? Why?" and "What is wrong with me?" and "Why does this always happen to me?", I am screaming at the screen, "There is nothing wrong with you!!!" and "This has nothing to do with who you are - you are beautiful and wonderful and this isn't real!"

Anyhoo, all y'all bachelorettes out there, keep the faith and don't accept anything less than the absolute best.

Thus endeth Megan's brief fore into romantic advice columnist-mode.

Fin.

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 :)

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 :)

How long do I stay?

I tried to find some other reference to this topic in the archives, but I couldn't. I think it's something I've talked about with other people, but haven't discussed here. It's, eh, a vulnerable topic.

I didn't think I'd live in one place this long. I figured I'd be back in South America, or somewhere far more romantic and inspiring. But I've been here for five years, and my feet are firmly planted on solid nutrient-rich ground.

But then I think, is this what I want, for good? Do I want everything to stay the same, stay grounded in one place, of course not stuck, but committed?

It's not the most awesome city in the world, but it's my home, and my life is here. So many people that I love are here. The people in my everyday life are here. My thrift stores are here. The dogs I love are here. Whole Foods is here. My job is here, a job I love, with people I love, and each day filled with meaning and purpose.

But maybe I'd give it all up. Maybe I'd love something more than all that. Maybe.

The full moon :)

Aren't these pictures funny and weird?

Tonight, after yoga, I stood by the bread factory in my short shorts, yoga mat in hand, watching the train go by under a full moon, and cried. And the train kept going, and going, and I knew I needed it to pass before I could cross the tracks to go home anyway, so I just stood there and got out as much as I could.

I'm okay. I can be big and loud sometimes, and that includes being sad, but I'm okay. People always think that I'm worse off than I am. The funny thing is, when it was really bad, several years ago, very few people saw me in my total life-stops-completely grief. Now I just cry and watch the train, then go home and make dinner, and do it all again tomorrow. I'm really doing well, and sometimes I have long, difficult days, but that doesn't change how I feel on the inside about myself.

Anyhow, having a job where you help people makes you have to constantly remind yourself that you are powerless to change other people. Sometimes I just have to say that to myself (I'm always talking to myself), and the fog lifts, my furrowed brows lift, and the world is right again.

I'm gonna eat some pizza now.

Vintage Barbie poster - hellz yeah!

When I was young, and something didn't go my way, I immediately felt like all was lost and nothing would ever get better. I would bask in my misery and cry myself to sleep. And that was okay.

But now, I don't have the emotional room to give to freak-outs the way I used to. Maybe I've trained myself to get through all the feelings speedily, or maybe I'm more patient and loving, which is just doubtful (I'm an imperfect person, after all). Maybe I'm well-medicated. Maybe when I prayed for ECT, it actually happened and I have no memory of it. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Sometimes it takes what feels like forever to get what I want. I want to sell the Rabbit, and yet it sits in my driveway, unsold, for over three months. I want my spine to be straighter, but it takes years of daily work to make it so. And finally, I want a proper immune system, but that's not gonna happen, like ever.

Yeah, so now the making of the pizza, but with marinara sauce, because I wasn't paying attention at the grocery store, and I'm just going with it :)

I say "oh dear lord" a lot.

Makes you wanna go outside and ride a bike, don' it?

Today was the one day a month that I wash my sheets, clean my bathroom, wash dishes, and go to estate sales. Yeah, I'm a boss like that. Anyhow, I bought nothing at the sales that I went to. High prices + houses full of grief = Ack! Get me outta here!

In one sale that I went to, they made sure I knew that they had had things appraised. They wanted me to know that as I looked through the jewelry, they knew how much it was worth, and they weren't going to let scary 'ol me cheat them out of any money they were owed. Yikes. There was a palpable feeling in the house, a feeling of anger. And I walked out the front door, I heard one woman mention her mother who had died, and whose belongings they were hawking selling.

Suddenly, it all made sense, the feeling in the house, and I was reminded of how important it is to not get yourself into situations where you're hanging on too tight to things, when what you really want to hang on to are people (or in some cases, dogs).

So yeah, life lesson of the day.

Rilke, as ever.

Books about the rain for an elementary school classroom :)

You who never arrived
in my arms, Beloved, who were lost
from the start,
I don't even know what songs
would please you. I have given up trying
to recognize you in the surging wave of
the next moment. All the immense
images in me — the far-off, deeply-felt landscape,
cities, towers, and bridges, and un-
suspected turns in the path,
and those powerful lands that were once
pulsing with the life of the gods —

You, Beloved, who are all
the gardens I have ever gazed at,
longing. An open window
in a country house — , and you almost
stepped out, pensive, to meet me. Streets that I chanced
upon, —
you had just walked down them and vanished.
And sometimes, in a shop, the mirrors
were still dizzy with your presence and, startled, gave back
my too-sudden image. Who knows? Perhaps the same
bird echoed through both of us
yesterday, separate, in the evening...

Ahead of All Parting: The Selected Poetry and Prose of Rainer Maria Rilke

Edited and Translated by Stephen Mitchell

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.

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 :)

Little productivity :(

Handmade Wedding Gift - 65 Years in Storage :)

So yesterday wasn't as productive as I would have liked. I got stuck in my brain, and wherever I was, it wasn't conducive to a productive day. I haven't come close to my $1000 goal to pay for the car debacle, and when I spoke to the shop this morning, they said it was taking longer than they'd predicted. Does that mean that they will charge me more? Only time will tell.

This morning will be my second car-borrowing in 24 hours. It's really difficult for me to ask for help, even when I am asking people who I trust. I guess what goes through my mind is, "I don't want to annoy this person." I really hate the idea that I annoy anyone. I don't know if I need to get over that. It may not be doing me any favors.

Gotta run. Talk soon.

Operation "Sell Car"

I just returned from the shop. It's my engine mounts, and front axle. $1000. I know I've said this before, but I am done. I am so done. I need a new car, like today.

Operation "Sell VW" commences today.

Have you ever been in love?

I don't have relationships with exes. I imagine that some people do. As I said before, I am like a sponge, and I don't do well managing feelings without slipping into old patterns. I doubt it's always the healthiest option, but for me, it's the best one. It protects my heart, and in odd cases, the hearts of other people (I just don't imagine anyone is too hung up on me post mortem).

And it works well. I leave, try again, mess up again, and no one is destroyed in the process. I was finding that every time I went back to my ex-boyfriends, my heart only became more attached, and more difficult to pull out of the relationship. Where once we might have been able to make somewhat of a clean break, re-entering the fray only made it more difficult to leave a second time without major trauma to my heart. Maybe our hearts were made for monogamy. I don't know. Sometimes I imagine that they are. But I don't think that our human-ness makes us able to not hurt eachother, and sometimes moving on is the best thing for everyone involved. Maybe in a perfect world, we could all mate for life, but I doubt anyone makes it to adulthood without breaking a heart or two.

Be kind. Being a grown-up means sacrifice, usually the sacrifice of things we thought we needed to survive. Maybe it can be okay to let go, if it means that in the end, you save a heart or two.

To do list :)

Things to do in the near future:

1. Become less fearful of actual human contact
2. Give couch to friend's friend who needs a couch
3. Get comfy chairs for living room
4. Kill all weeds in backyard (never gonna happen)
5. Fill holes in drywall
6. Finish year-end paperwork for good
7. Wash car, inside and out
8. Trim bush outside front door
9. Install outdoor shade
10. Organize inventory (constantly happening)

Ridiculous morning.

Yeah, I sell art books. This one is on American Impressionists.

Ridiculous. That is what I am thinking right now. And that may be due to my usual insomnia-laced mania, or (more likely) it may be due to the fact that I woke up at 5am for an estate sale that ended up being SO overpriced, that I bought one thing. One thing! I was the first person in line! I think I mostly just feel silly for thinking that I was going to be able to purchase something for $1000 that ended up with an asking price of $4995. Silly me.

I did realize, as I was driving away, that I have not held up my end of the "no thrifting week". I bought a Starbucks solo coffee press at the estate sale this morning and a tape machine dispenser at a thrift store yesterday. I'd seen the tape dispenser weeks ago, then again when it hadn't sold, and I looked it up, thinking, "I wonder...". It was a good bet. Now I just need to figure out how to ship that darn thing. It will officially be the heaviest thing I have ever shipped. The last time I sold something really bulky that I didn't feel confident about, I went to the local office store, and had them pack it. I don't know why that made me feel better, but it did. We all know what trouble I have with packing :)

So all in all, I feel good. Today and tomorrow may be difficult, but I'm committed to working through my stuff (my inventory, not my emotional handicaps). No encouragements necessary, but all are appreciated, nonetheless.

Not enough makeup

Time travel with authentic Jacobean embroidery!

So over the past five years, I have worked myself into a continual semi-conscious state by putting myself through school - by myself. I never payed a cent for tuition; unfortunately, my government loans did all of that (ack, repayment!), but I did do the rest mostly by myself (minus some dollars here and there from scholarships and loan overflow). Boo-yah.

Unfortunately, this doesn't feel like such a big deal on the flip side. Now it feels like I'm some sort of hippie dreamer who wears used clothing and got a masters degree for fun. I don't wear enough makeup to be taken seriously. I swear everyone's teeth were whiter than mine at the ceremony on Saturday. I had a weird growth on my eyebrow. And then when it was all over, I ate a burger made of beets.

It really just couldn't get any worse.