The drought.

Bridalveil Falls in Yosemite - very dry :(

I've been feeling like a dry tree aching for water these past few months. Most days I am reminded of this with three trees I see each day, one strong healthy oak tree sitting between two sad sick oak trees. The strong tree is watered regularly and pruned with intention. The other two are ignored; no one waters them. Their branches curl up into them like old shriveled people ready to die. I feel so sad when I look at them. I dream of climbing the strong oak tree, but I'm waiting to get up the nerve. It reaches its arms out to the sky, like it has no fear. It looks free and wild, and ready to take on anything. I want to be like that tree.

Writing a book.

For the past several years, I have been slowly working on a book. Slowly is an understatement. This book might never be finished. But it is a part of me in a way that I cannot quite express, and therein lies the purpose of the thing. I write because it is who I am, and the book is my way of trying to figure out who I am. It's a weird circular thing.

Seeing myself is difficult, like running-an-ultramarathon-in-the-desert-difficult. I've spent most of my life seeing myself the way other people have described me: melodramatic, annoying, crazy, ugly. To challenge those messages, some of them a lifetime old, is a daily struggle, a work in the deepest primitive part of my brain. So to reach inside that part takes a different kind of energy than the day-to-day walking-around kind of energy.

Anyhow, the book is about my family and the reasons I am the way I am. But it'll probably take me the rest of my life to make something I'm really proud of. So in the meantime, it will be something, a hope, that sustains me.

Peace.

A troll! From Norway!

Vintage Nyform Troll from Norway - without hair ;)

I have found throughout my adult life, that in large groups, when I speak out about something, I leave feeling unacknowledged, or unheard by the larger group, only to have several people approach me afterward and say in a whisper, "I feel the same way you do".

I recognize that part of this process is my feelings of inadequacy. Perhaps I say brilliant things that make people think. Perhaps I contribute in great ways, and people want to acknowledge that, but don't feel like they can contribute in the larger conversation. Or maybe I'm an idiot, and people are placating me. I dunno.

I'm really struggling with this right now, these feelings of inadequacy. I was told for so long that I wasn't enough, that my hair was wrong, my clothes were wrong, my face was wrong, etc. So when I get up and go to work every day, I'm stuck figuring out how to integrate my adult self with this little kid who can't move a muscle without being reprimanded.

I'm working on it - don't worry about me :)

No dog love :(

1994 Bergschrund Honey Bear Mug

I'm drinking coffee at this very moment. It took over an hour to make it happen. I am housesitting, and there's a dog, and the dog is depressed, and that makes me feel depressed, and wishing that I was a dog psychologist and I could whisk his worries away. I also wish that I too could get into a small contained space like he is right now, in a dark hallway in his crate, voluntarily.

I have to keep myself from bugging him to come play with me. I tried to cuddle with him, but he went into his crate, so here I am, feeling rejected and not wanting to do anything, and just generally feeling like ass. I get so used to dogs loving me and wanting to constantly be with me, that I get confused when a dog meets me and doesn't automatically want to be bffs.

I did some thrifting yesterday, and maybe found some good stuff. I got into a long conversation with an employee/thrift friend about him working on getting his GED. He has a neck tattoo but I like him anyway. I think this is a first for me. I am pretty anti-tattoo, as a general rule. There were a bunch of new workers at the store. They were pretty energetic, and obviously hadn't seen a woman in a great while. I love it when that happens. Aw shucks [insert blushing grin here].

The Bachelorette returns...

Vintage NKOTB pillowcase :)

Due to my lack of a television (not because I'm some uber-hipster, but because I'd have nowhere to put it), I don't have cable. This means that I'm one day behind the blogosphere in terms of commenting on The Bachelorette. I know. I know. I've failed my strange niche of reality television/theology/recycling-loving crowd, all two of you. My apologies.

The first episode of this new season was the first time I was able to really start seeing pathology right off the bat, to trust my gut, to allow myself to say "something's not right with that guy". Of course, this is all hyperbole, since I'm not on the freakin' show, but nevertheless, I'm learning to trust myself. Creepy comes in all shapes and sizes. Sometimes, it can be really attractive on the outside, but it shouldn't take long to reveal itself. It's shallow and self-centered, needlessly self-deprecating and hyper-focused on flaws. Creepy people make you feel "icky".

My love of pop occasionally feels shameful ;)

I felt "icky" several times this evening, as I ate my favorite homemade vegan mac-n-cheese. Shirtless dude took too long to find a shirt. Dancing dude had zero ability to laugh at himself, and stared a little bit too intently - ack! But then...Bikram guy had the potential to be too intense, but was successfully able to be chill in stressful situations. And this guy looked like he was holding back tears as the final roses were being handed out and he was roseless - perhaps overly emotive, but able to be real in a strangely stressful situation.

The whole thing is a cluster-fuck of emotional absurdity, yes. But it's also an opportunity to do some self-reflection. While watching the Bachelorette meet her men, I'm wondering if I would be pretty enough for a group of men, or if they'd think I was weird and crazy, and if I'll ever be running through an orchard, holding hands with the person I love, who simultaneously loves me, and wondering at the beauty of sheer existence.

So many things to think about. What a great summer show - I'll keep you posted ;)

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.

Thrift store conversations.

A section of a beautiful handmade square dance skirt - my new thing :)

Yesterday, at my favorite cheap thrift store downtown, where they let you barter, and still sell things for ten cents, this conversation was overheard between an employee and two volunteers. I, a recognized regular, am the only shopper in the store.

Employee: [referring to an old friend] Oh! She was the most wonderful person. One time, a woman came up to her and complimented her earrings - would you believe it - she took them off and gave them to her!

Volunteer: What?! That's like giving away your underwear!

Employee: [completely flustered] Well...uh...oh my! Why are you talking about underwear?! Oh my goodness. This is so inappropriate...I can't believe this is happening...

Volunteer: Oh no. You misunderstand me. I'm just saying that that is how I see someone giving away their earrings. That's a personal item, just like underwear.

Employee: [laughing anxiously] He said it again! Oh my goodness. This is too much. You need to go in back and move furniture. Underwear! He's talking about underwear!

Several minutes later...

Employee: [to me (volunteers are in back, out of hearing range)] Did you hear that man? He is after me! I don't know what to do about it. It's been going on for a while now, but today was just the worst! He was talking about underwear! As if he wanted to talk about my underwear, as if he thought he might be seeing it soon!

Megan: [nods sympathetically] Yeah, wow. Hm. That's a tough one.

Employee: What do I do? This needs to stop! [turns to another employee who has just approached] Did you hear him? Talking about my underwear? I can't believe it! I don't know what to do!

Rummage Sale Planning - Part 2

This is possibly the most beautiful photograph I have ever taken.

So planning events is not something I am awesome at, not because I don't have experience. I have loads of experience. It's just the energy, and the neurotic stress I typically take upon myself. Stress makes me lose sleep at night, and then crash after the event for days, wishing I'd been more relaxed.

Now I have the opportunity to do that, to relax more, and stress less, to truly and fully adopt the persona I've been faking for so long: that I truly believe that everything will be okay, turn out well, etc. This involves not constantly thinking about said event, letting other people imagine things they would like to contribute, and not obsessing over the details. Because in the end, the purpose is to raise money, and that will happen. We will also add another life cycle to a piece of clothing or furniture.

Last but not least, we will raise awareness of a part of the world that has been largely forgotten (I mean, if we're not paying attention to our own wars, it makes sense that we wouldn't pay much attention to those we're only loosely affiliated with). So on that note, you can read here about what the sale will be supporting.

Love to all :)

Rummage sale planning - Part 1

Your ultimate dream: parent-child matching costumes.

I wish I had a delivery boy who brought me sandwiches from Whole Foods on weekends, or any evening really. I was at Whole Foods last night getting groceries, and wishing that I was home in a prone position. Sometimes I think people need to get married so that they split up these kinds of things. I swear I talk to so many women whose husbands cook and clean, and I do not know how this all goes down. It's a mystery to me. I tend to be more traditional, hands in hot soapy water washing dishes, making broccoli pesto for dinner, etc. There are just certain things I don't like to do, and sometimes these things keep me from doing things I would enjoy doing.

[Insert rummage sale here]. So I am currently organizing a rummage sale, to be held at my church, to raise money for Syrian refugees. I found myself getting too caught up in the minutiae of my own life, took a step back, and realized that I needed to be more productive, and generally whine less.

I did the same thing a couple years ago, but it stressed me out so much that I swore I'd never do it again. Now I'm just trying to stay chill, let things happen, and not agonize over the details. I don't know if it's working. I'll let you know.

Taxes make me crazy.

I think that these vintage Italian gold pumps (totally '80s) are hot :)

I have been having so much anxiety about my taxes this year. I have claimed my earnings since opening my eBay store, but this is the first year that I have collected sales tax, and I registered as a business. Suddenly, I'm paying business/retail tax, which I still haven't figured out, and I can't figure out how the fuck to pay my sales tax, and it's starting to drive me crazy.

So this morning, I finally sat down to do my taxes, and get through my pile of personal and business paperwork, medical bills, etc. So much money going away, but I haven't bounced a check in a long time, so I'm feeling really good about myself. I'm paying way less for inventory, and my February sales were awesome (and February tends to be a slow month). Wow, second paragraph has helped me feel better already.

Peace out :)

Making friends :)

I can't wait to sell these boots! They're really cool :)

So now, around town, I feel like a wise old thrifter. I have seen so much. I have patience. I have an appropriately furrowed brow (oh dear, this expression will age me quickly). I am the best thrifting resource you will find, if you only have the time to look around and see if anyone is paying attention to you. I am present. I am smiling. And yes, that color would look great on you.

I used to hang my head and mumble, say "thank you" and never attempt conversation. But something in me has changed over the past year. I think my life has smoothed out to a more steady pace, and I'm able to take moments, full minutes in fact, to speak to people, look them in the eye and talk to them. It's been a trip, really, because it has made my thrifting hobby into something I do, not just because it gives me mindless time (which I need on a daily basis), but it also gives me social time to talk about nothing of any importance. I don't have to give a lot. I can just be me, and enjoy the experience, and smile and let go of the heavy burdens I often put on my own shoulders.

So maybe I'm endearing, and that makes it easy for people to talk to me. Or maybe I'm weird and eccentric, and I don't stand out much (let's all remember fake baby lady from a few weeks ago). I don't know what people think, because sometimes I'm wearing my normal clothes, and sometimes I'm wearing my professional clothes. Maybe they call me something like "weird tall lady" :)

Anyhow, I'm having especially enjoyable times thrifting lately :)

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 :)

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.

Life is pretty awesome, after all.

These vintage 3D latch hook kits are awesome :)

Sorrow prepares you for joy. It violently sweeps everything out of your house, so that new joy can find space to enter. It shakes the yellow leaves from the bough of your heart, so that fresh, green leaves can grow in their place. It pulls up the rotten roots, so that new roots hidden beneath have room to grow. Whatever sorrow shakes from your heart, far better things will take their place.

Rumi

Everything in my life is so crazy and mixed up at the moment that all I can do is laugh and smile, and listen to songs on repeat.

Life takes some sharp twists and turns sometimes, but in the end, somehow, everything will be okay. Somehow, in the midst of neurological craziness, and health problems up the wang, and emotional overload, and missing people like crazy, it just stops mattering. Somehow, I'm alive and loved and I have joy in my life, so I really can't complain. And I'm gonna celebrate by wearing my favorite red pants tonight, so y'all can look forward to that.

So no complaints. Life is pretty awesome :)

Everything is okay. I'm not insane.

Thrift store oil painting - there's just something about it I love :)

I had a less-than-wonderful day yesterday. Maybe it's the pending end-of-the-world. Maybe it's the fog, or the rain, or the fiscal cliff. Maybe it's the holiday season. Maybe it's the last month of unnecessary and expensive medical tests. Maybe it's female hysteria.

Whatever it was, it was something I'd done before, and something I'll do again. So I went and hung out with my favorite teenagers and the dogs. I went to bed early. I left work early. I wandered my favorite thrift store until Bruno Mars came on the radio and I had to flee. I took pictures of inventory in my driveway. I made jokes to make myself laugh. I reflected a wee bit about the source of my bad feelings. I listened to talk radio and Madman Across the Water. I did the things that make me feel better, bit by bit.

So that's life sometimes, and it's okay, to be sad and a little crazy sometimes. I'm probably a little crazier that most people, but I'm pretty fond of myself most of the time.

Hope all is well with you. Peace out mofos :)

Look! It's a castle!

Vintage Fisher Price castle - 1970s - reminds me of toys at Grandma's house :)

So maybe it's the coming month of fewer hours at work, but I've been bulking up on inventory like a fun thrift store hobbyist. I'm actually quite content right now, listening to country, drinking some cafe au lait, and trying on vintage eyeglasses while I list them, and it's been quite a long time since I haven't begrudgingly listed on my off days. Less stress overall = more enjoyment in the little things I suppose.

I went in and got a CT scan yesterday. As time passes, I am becoming more and more angry about how all of this hullabaloo has gone down. One person that saw the incident said I might have had a small seizure, or I could have fainted and fallen down. Both are equally likely. But I defaulted, thinking it wouldn't matter, and shouldn't I call my diabetes doctor just to let them know? But thus began a series of events that cannot be undone, and now my driver's license is in jeopardy and I'm getting all of these tests run that cost a lot of money, and scare me a little.

Everyone who knows me, knows I'm high strung, intense, sometimes over-the-top. But I'm also very aware of it, and I suppose that makes me not-so-scary. Yeah, I panic, I freak out, but I also am the person you want to call in a genuine crisis, because while I freak out about the stupidest things, I do not freak out when shit is on the line. I am calm and cool, and focused. Yeah, it's weird, but it's me, and I'm okay with that.

I'm really missing the dogs today, and I wish they were sitting next to me.

Peace out :)

All is not lost, my dear

Oh man, I've been feeling down for a few days. I don't want to call myself a "downer" however, for fear this name-calling would only plunge me back into ceiling-staring-land (or as it was last night, star-staring-land). And I don't want to be hard on myself, since the temperature plunged overnight, the holidays are fast approaching (oh dear lord), and the director of the CIA is embroiled in scandal. Then there's Hurricane Sandy, legalization of being a pothead in Colorado, and the neverending depression of Obamacare. Need I say more? How can a simple girl like me go on living in all of this chaos?

But then, a dimly flickering light in the darkness: lunch at the Armenian place across the street, filled with fresh pita, tzatziki, and the most wonderful falafel I've had in a long time. Suddenly, the world was right again, my blood sugar normalized, and my days-long freak-out ended.

Peace out mofos :)

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've found my vice.

For a long time, I've complained to anyone who will listen that I need a vice badly. I need something that I can do that is mine, that feels like rebellion, something I do that says, "I really don't give a fuck". Well friends, I have found that thing. And it is Whole Foods.

Whole Foods gives me vegan muffins and scones, vegan cake, soy yogurt, fake wonderful meat, kombucha (!), and men who smile at me like goons. Whole Foods has the most comprehensive selection of vegan options than anywhere else in town. Yeah, so it's more expensive, but I don't care. It's food! It's what I put in my body, the houser of my soul and all that jazz. So I'm gonna own it. I'm gonna own my vice like nobody's business.

B I K R A M

Revue Eyeglass frames, from France!

My bff has become completely and totally a Bikram convert. She talks about it all the time. I've been hearing about it for three straight weeks. And since I'm already a wannabe yogi, I figured it was worth my time to give the whole thing a shot. I knew what I was getting into. It would be hot. I needed to be still. I needed to be prepared to sweat a lot without wiping it away, etc, etc. So I waited until I was actually up to the challenge, and went to the studio yesterday afternoon.

It felt like I walked into an oven. It felt oppressive without moving. I've lived in hot, humid places. I've exercised in said places. But I was not prepared for the heat of that room. It was unlike anything I have ever felt, save the moment I stepped off the plane into the equatorial heat of West Brazil six short years ago. But I was committed, and I didn't doubt that I could do it. And I was able to do the first maybe 25% of the poses, when I stood up and felt sick to my stomach. I knew my blood sugar had plunged, and I knew that I had to get out of that room, but the teacher told me to stay and sit, and I did not feel like I could do anything else. So I sat, and I sat, and held back tears that came out of nowhere.

Eventually, I caught the teacher's eye and asked if I could leave. Her response was not positive, but I was adamant. I knew I needed to check my blood sugar, and I needed to not feel so sick for another minute. I sat for a while in the front room, and drank my water. My sugar was 75, which is not pre-comatose, but not okay to keep going in the negative direction. I had to leave. I had to go home.

I wailed all the way home. It was bizarre. There were no feelings or thoughts associated with the wailing, just a raw, guttural noise from my soul. Eventually, it ended, and I ate dinner, and slept through the night.

It wasn't a good day to go, and I want to go back. But I don't know when I'll feel up to it. I think that heat is a really big stressor to my body, and I'll have to be in a perfect place blood-sugar and energy wise before I try again. It's difficult for me to accept defeat, even temporarily, but if I'm learning anything at this point in my life, it's that I need to have patience to get the things I want.

Peace out :)