I love presents!

I'm not much of a holiday gift giver. Yes, I may give you something for your birthday or for Christmas if it's already in my stash, but mostly I'm an everyday gift giver. I love giving presents so freakin' much - sometimes I can't stand it. I get giddy and smiley and I am so excited until the moment. Today I found the greatest thing, and I'm testing it out right now, and I'm dying to text the person to tell them that I got them an amazing present and I don't know how long I'll be able to wait to give it to them (no, it's not for you, or you, or you).

I don't think I really came into my own as a gift-giver until adulthood. I mean, I've always had the skill, the unusual talent, but I don't think that I appreciated how awesome it was, or realized how awesome it might be for other people until I'd reached my early twenties. I went through a period of time of giving lots of money away secretively. That was fun, and maybe too extravagant for that time in my life, but I did it. I gave lots of money to various ministries I supported and causes I believed in. Sometimes I gave because I felt like I had to (i.e. "God loves a cheerful giver"), but over time, I've stopped giving for that reason.

I was taught to tithe to the church, and I struggle with that. I thought that God would give me everything I needed, and then I would tithe out of that. But when I started to not have enough, I stopped giving to the church. Maybe my financial dire straights (not really dire, just full of debt) are due to this, to my lack of faith. But then I think back to all the times I gave so much to people in need, out of my own abundance, and wish that I could somehow receive that back in kind. Money is funny. That's all I'll say.

I might last another 24 hours. This thing is so perfect, I can't stand it.

What is love?

Love opens a person up to new things, or so I thought. I like country music and Led Zeppelin and poetry because some guy who loved me liked those things - the list could continue on and on. I am who I am because of the people I have loved, because of the people who have loved me. And I'm happy for that. I'm glad for these things.

But I'm beginning to wonder if true love, the best kind, makes us like new things, or if true love makes us more like ourselves, who we truly are. I don't know that I've ever asked myself this particular question, but I'm beginning to see things in myself that make me think that I am my best self when I'm in relationship to another person who doesn't try to change me.

When I was a kid, everything about me was wrong. Trying to change me was a full time job. So I grew up to be an adult who didn't know her ass from a hole in the ground. I didn't know who I was. I was a stranger to myself. And I've spent the last decade or so trying to get to know this person I am, trying to love her as she is, and not as she should be.

Anyhow, part of this struggle is in surrounding myself with people who affirm me without telling me what to do or who to be. It's difficult to choose these people wisely. It's difficult to love myself enough to choose people who treat me well. But somehow in the wondering is the answer. Somewhere in the mess of my own heart is everything I'm looking for.

That's all I got.

Does failing make you a failure?

Original Framed Oil on Canvas Painting

Today I am considering the idea that failing does not inherently make me a failure. I'm a person who wants to make everything right, do everything well. I don't consider myself a perfectionist. I am capable of letting little things go, and not agonizing over little trifles, but in the great land of "Being an Adult", I am finding that these skills only need to be amplified, strengthened, continually over time. It's not like a plateau we reach, where everything after that is straight ahead without potholes.

Perhaps I never would have identified this as a characteristic in myself, but I have been acting as though I'm finished as a person, that everything should be perfect now that I'm a fully functioning adult. I've been living in an imperfect body, with an imperfect mind, and wearing clothing that is imperfect, even selling things that are imperfect. Yet I have been expecting more from myself than I expect from anyone, or anything, else.

Now I'm going to sit in a pile of my own imperfection and hope it melds with my thrifty self. See you later :)

So yeah, this is me.

Vintage Crewel Embroidery Kit :)

I feel alone right now. I feel alone in a way that is new, not terribly painful, but strange nonetheless. I have, for the past twenty-some odd years, sought to demand love from other people. I have done this in a variety of ways, and have failed, miserably, time and time again. I have wanted desperately to fill holes in my heart that were never filled, holes that make me feel weak and vulnerable, scared and crazy. I have tried to get other people to fill them for me. Let me be perfectly clear: this does not work.

Now, all that "love yourself first" and "self-love" bullshit is true. I believe it. I call it bullshit because I think people use it to avoid pain sometimes, to mask a carnal dependency we all have as human beings. We all need other people. We all need relationships. But we cannot make other people love us if they don't. We just can't. I can't. I want to, but I can't. I want the people who I love to love me back, to feel as deeply as I do, to cross that relational barrier that divides us all. But this doesn't always happen. It actually happens very rarely, and that's okay.

The answer to that is not to turn inward and avoid befriending, coffee time-ing, and generally reaching out to other people. It may be appropriate to take a moment to deconstruct the reasons why a relationship didn't work out. It may help to make stronger decisions in the future. But it doesn't mean that we quit loving others, ever, or that we avoid the intimacy that got us tangled up in the first place. I've fallen down so many times now in romantic relationships that I don't want to get back up again. I don't want to bother. I'm a big fat failure, and I want to turn in my "coupling" card. I want to stop pouring my heart out to people who don't love me. I want to stop loving people who can't love me back. I want to stop obsessing over things I have no control over.

I think loving yourself means filling up your own damn holes, and then reaching out again to find someone who honors them.

Wasteland.

Joanne Sibley watercolor print - She often paints the Caribbean area.

Wasteland (Almega Projects, 2010), a documentary largely conceptualized by artist Vik Muniz, is about trash and landfills in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. It's interesting in many ways because of Rio's focus on general cleansing (e.g. running gangs out of the slums) as they prepare for the 2016 Olympic Games. The documentary focuses on the people who work and survive on the landfills, recycling all of that which can be recycled (as Rio has no separate recycling pick-up services), and even using the food to feed themselves (in very impressive, and non-disgusting ways, I will add).

This film sat on my Netflix queue for ages, as it seemed like something I would like (i.e. it was about trash, and my fantasy destination: landfills!), but I never got to it. Every time I considered it, I felt depressed, and found something funny to do instead.

Eventually, I watched it. It was that moment, when you've been waiting to do something for ages, but just waiting for the right moment. And it was beautiful, full of real human experience and emotion, and the deep raw-ness of working with trash, of being trash, and what that means to a person's soul. It's a beautiful film, both emotionally and aesthetically. Philosophically, it brings the hidden secret world into view, and exposes it for the truth it truly brings to the world and the human experience: those who live off the landfill are the most beautiful people you can find.

I don't know if the experience of these filmmakers could be recreated across the world in other landfill worker colonies, but I'm glad that they took the time to really see the people they researched. They made something beautiful in a dirty, ugly place. They found beauty that was already there.

Joseph Brodsky.

Grow accustomed to the desert as to fate/lest you find it omnipresent much too late.

~Joseph Brodsky 

Someone sent me these poems a few years back, and the second half of the audio has two of my favorite poems by Joseph Brodsky, a Russian poet. There is something so beautiful about the idea that there are other people who exist in the world who understand the depth of being (as much as it can be understood, of course) and who are able to put pen to paper and make something of it, or maybe they create meaning with the writing itself. I dunno. Anyhow, listen if you like. The reader has a beautiful voice and cadence.

Delusional hope.

I can't decide whether to give these to my shoe-loving friend for Christmas.

I think I've decided (for a brief moment of time) to be hopeful, for the future, because why not? Hope might be silly, and embarrassing sometimes, but it's tangible. There is no ephemeral hope. There is only hope for change, hope for better, hope for something different already, geez.

I often hope for a day without war, without violence in name and deed. I hope for this because I believe that we, the people, have the power to change the world for the better.

There's nothing better for fostering hope than staring through the window of a moving car (or train, if you're so lucky). That's how I get recentered, I guess, seeing the same scenery I've been seeing all my life, the same highway, the same crazy religious signs, the same oleander bushes. And I think to myself, "Well maybe I could change, maybe things could change a little, and everything would be okay".

I have hope that emptiness will be filled, that loss would be redeemed, and that someday, everything will make sense already, geez.

Peace out :)

How long?

The nuclear symbol on a vintage tie - how cool is that?!

Have you ever held on to something for so long that it was unrecognizable? What immediately springs to mind is baby blankies. When I was four, my mother decided that the milestone of my pending entrance into kindergarten warranted throwing my blankie away. Now this was bad, especially for me, but the sentiment was in the right place. She wanted to mark the transition into school by saying, "Hey, you need to leave this behind. New things are coming."

Now that I've written that last thing, I'm starting to think about what I need to leave behind. I cut my hair. It's super short, but no fat face = okay with short hair. I'm actually not terribly unattractive without my usual fro overwhelming my face.

I've made two significant decisions this week: 1) I am no longer having freak-outs. I am calm and cool. I am an adult who handles her business and does not lose it at any given moment. 2) I am no longer chasing men. It hasn't been working, so I'm done. You've all been put on notice, I suppose.

Peace out.

Taking a lover :)

Aren't these super cool?

Don't hide your love...

Michael McDermott - "Lantern"

So if you've ever spent any kind of significant time with me, you have heard me talk about sex. It fascinates me. It scares me. It's endlessly interesting to discuss. I've been trying to work it out, figure it out, for a long time. I think I'm at a better place today than I was fifteen years ago, and even five years ago, but I still have questions about morality, sexual ethics, and the very Megan-esque question, "Should I take a lover?"

Every six months or so, for the past thirteen or so some-odd years, I ask myself this question. And several of those times, the answer was "yes". But for the past few years, the answer has been "no". I entered seminary, quickly got into a relationship, and was confronted by my spirituality and sexuality, all at the same time, in the same room. It wasn't pretty. It was scary and not healthy. I was old enough to know better, but I didn't know how to make decisions that were good for me.

Celibacy is an awful word. So much of the person I want to be is plain hard core. And celibacy is not hard core. But it's also a reflection of how far I've come in those thirteen years. At the beginning, I was sixteen, totally in love, and unable to move in my own body, accept my own sexuality and act on it. When I lost that relationship, I did a 180 and slept with anyone who would have me. I was heartbroken and confused, and it took me a really long time to work through those feelings. It took me a long time to forgive that sixteen-year-old girl who couldn't sleep with her boyfriend, the one person I ever really loved. But I have forgiven her. It was a lot of emotion for a previously unloved little girl. It was overwhelming and terrifying.

So maybe I'll take a lover, but I probably won't. I want to be with someone I love. So yeah, that's the thing I've been talking about lately, that painful, suffering, wanting. I want to be with the person I love, and it's an almost impossible thing to wait for.

eBay customer rant

Stop eating people's old French fries, pigeon. Have some self respect! Don't you know you can fly?

~ Tracy Jordan (30 Rock)

I receive offers weekly where potential buyers literally beg me to sell them an item for a particular price. Now, I have a "Best Offer" feature on most of my listings, and I welcome offers, but I hate these interactions. Each of them is more insulting than the last. I reject them all, regardless of the amount. I am not your savior! You will not die if you don't have these shoes, or these hair clips. It is not my responsibility (as a stranger!) to take care of you. Do you go to the grocery store and beg the checkers to sell you groceries for less than the asking price? Is begging via eBay really your bottom? Do you need to debase yourself to feel worthy? Seriously, if that's all you've got, that's all you've got, but own it already! Be who you are without apology.

Rant over. Peace out.

Good Sunday to you :)

Do one thing every day that scares you.

Eleanor Roosevelt

A great thing happened today: I went rock climbing (at a climbing gym) for the first time ever, and I went all the way to the ceiling! It was awesome, and I thought you should know. It seems like the scariest thing ever, since you're hanging onto a wall with your fingertips and the side of your foot, but then you just take one step at a time, and eventually you're there! My friends who took me go all the time (they're fiends), so they were super positive and encouraging, and I felt really supported. I figured out that I don't like being told what to do when I'm in the middle of doing it. I need to be able to focus as much as possible on the task at hand, and voices calling out to me where to put the foot I can't see (on the 2" rock I also cannot see) are simply not helpful to me.

So that was good to know about myself. I hadn't quite put those two things together before. See how much I love personal development? I think everyone should do things that scare them just for the heck of it, and we'd all be better people. Unfortunately, I think that a lot of people do drugs and join gangs in an effort to confront their own fears, and this isn't usually a good idea. So maybe the ethos isn't perfect, but it's worth thinking about.

Peace out.

Credit card debt creation

I really can't figure out what this book is about.

I think I've mentioned that my financial poverty has reached an all-time-low. Seriously, I don't know how low I can go. This is the first time in my life that I have chosen to use my credit card for necessities. In the past, I've baulked at people with credit card debt. "How did you buy that much stuff that you couldn't afford?" But now...I don't know.

I've worked my butt off this month, going through all my old inventory, photographing, listing. I don't know what else to do. What happens when a store just stops selling? This has been an okay month sale-wise, but between graduation last month, and the car breaking down this month, and my shop 2-3x as full as it has been all year, I'm pretty much just hoping that this will blow over, and that in the end, I'll come out okay financially.

Okay, thinking time is over. Now it's coffee time.

Is this the bottom?

I went to teppanyaki last night with coworkers for an end-of-the-year celebration. The place was packed, on a Tuesday, in an otherwise boring strip mall. It seemed odd to me. Good, even great (economy-wise), but odd nonetheless.

Last week, I went to my bank, and a young man was hiding outside, unseen from the security guards, selling M&Ms. He asked me if I wanted any (It was 102 degrees). I said "sorry". And it was in that moment that I thought, "this must be the bottom". People ask for money on cardboard signs on every corner, young people without shopping carts. Adults selling candy outside banks. Suddenly, I was transported to Peru, where children sell candy on the streets, and on the buses, where each car is accosted at every stop light, with people selling their wares, trying their best to survive.

But in happier news, my generic chocolate sandwich cookies have reappeared on their store's shelf, and I eagerly shared my joy with the first employee who seemed like she might care. And she did. It was a wonderful moment.

Belt buckles - Booyah.

Mim Di N (what does that even mean?!) belt buckle

This afternoon, my nurse practitioner, who is in charge of my diabetic care (obviously second in command), told me that something has happened to me that is so interesting, she is going to bring it up in her next case conference! How cool is that?! She said that one of the doctors at the practice is a diabetes nerd. I said, "I'm a psychopath nerd". She laughed. She got it. We had a moment of shared understanding. It's weird to have to be in school so long just to do what I want to do, the thing that my soul knows how to do.

Solid Brass-Made in Israel.

I made a thrift stop on the way home and have already listed everything I bought! How awesome is that? I was so productive today. I cleaned the yard for my party. I had help. We were amazing. Me and my tall friend made that yard our bitch. I was so proud, I had to keep going outside to look at it. There was so much dust, I kept blowing my snot all over the place. Disgusting. I was sneezing like a mofo.

Just to emphasize the awesomeness of this feat, I did not, as a rule, do yardwork until about a year ago when I found that it was cathartic. So me, doing yardwork, and getting injured (I got a palm thorn stuck in my hand) was some kind of proof to the world (and my parents, who am I kidding) that I'm not a loser. I'm a grown-up who does yardwork.

Booyah.

There will always be more garbage.

Remember the last time you got to swim in a clear blue swimming pool, enjoying the cool water, and loving the way the water felt against your body, making your muscles work in a way they can't do on land?

Remember the huge lump of dog hair or garbage or kid urine that suddenly got in your way?

Yeah, that's life. But it doesn't mean you should stop swimming or that you should begin focusing on the garbage. Toss it aside, and move along. There will always be more garbage. You can't control that.

A trip to the dark side

The Black Swan :)

I just read a crazy story (Note: It's about serial killers and mass graves, so go away if you're not in a good place to handle this). It takes place in my area of the world, so it appeals to me. These days, I am rarely able to handle this kind of crazy. The work I do makes it very difficult for me to cope with bad stuff that is in no way connected to me and my life. But this story gave me hope.

I have lived my whole life in the great state of California (minus a few months here and there). One becomes accustomed to the billboards on the side of I-5 advertising missing persons, some for ten years and more. These signs are so sad. There are whole families behind those signs, waiting and hoping for answers. Parents ask, "What happened to our daughter?" They grieve without end, because there is no end to the mystery. And then some crazy guy in San Quentin decides to open his mouth, and spill his guts. It may be manipulation. It may be for money. It may be honest guilt. I don't know, but no matter why it's happening, it's good.

Families are getting answers. Think of all the suffering that is going to end in this search. They will never stop grieving, but the suffering that comes with not knowing will end. It makes me so happy. It makes my eyes well up. It makes my heart feel full. Some of the fog may be lifted (oh, I hope they'll test all the remains ASAP), after decades of not knowing what happened.

Failing at fixing

 

I keep trying to fix things and then my life only gets worse. My sink gets clogged from the broccoli I had for dinner, but then I can take all the pipes apart and clean them, right? Wrong, because then I don't put the pipes back together and now it's leaking. My toaster oven's button breaks, so I bought a new button, and now I'm overloading the circuit. What the heck.

SO basically, my whole life has fallen into the toilet over these two things, because that oven made my life okay. I got into this little apartment with no kitchen, but I had an oven, so I felt like a person. Now I don't have an oven. You see what's happening? I imagine that I can fix things, but then nothing gets fixed. I even put the time in. So now I'm tired, and feeling like a failure. Does this mean I have to buy a new toaster oven? Does this mean that I'm not a person who will ever be able to really fix anything? I would like to just find out now so I don't spend the rest of my life failing at fixing.

Minor freak-out

I spent 48 hours (minus sleeping and eating of course) working on my senior paper this weekend. I came home last night and went to sleep at 8pm. I woke up this morning at 9am. I am still exhausted. I still have a headache. I can't remember the last time I have worked so hard.

I almost wonder if I overdid it. Because I have to do it again next weekend, and probably again the weekend after that. And every time I shared some new "ah-ha" moment with my retreat partner, she was easily able to debunk it. Blerg.

What am I saying? Why am I saying it? My topic doesn't even matter, even though it matters to me. At the end of the day, I love philosophical and theological ethics. Who cares about that shit? I want to be practical, but I'm not. I'm lofty and in the clouds. I want to change the way the world operates, and that's why I study what I study. But after this weekend, I'm feeling like I'm failing, and I don't know what to do.

I'm really tired. I need to rest. I will feel better after resting :)

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.