Defeat.

Super cool original ceramic replica of a Polaroid Land Camera :)

"We shall find no enduring strength until we first admit complete defeat."

Twelve Steps, Step One

This inspired me this week, the idea that there is strength at the bottom, strength in brokenness. I struggle to hold on to his idea, even though I'm sure lots of people who know me would say otherwise, describing me as vulnerable. But the truth is, I like to look good. I talk big talk about trash and recycling, but deep down, I want people to think I have it all together and I want to look good.

I want to be a winner. I want to be the best. I don't want to admit my faults or flaws. I don't want the world to see the ugly parts of me.

It's easier to be vulnerable when deep down I think I have it all together, and the vulnerability is a nice persona. It's harder when it's the real thing, when the vulnerability is raw and needy and broken because that's where I am.

Defeat.

It's been a while, has it not?

Room key numbers perhaps, for your fantasy bnb?

I've been gone from the blog for the worst of all reasons: I met someone. I disappeared like all those people that went before me that I judged harshly and became embittered towards. I'm on the other side. Now I understand all those lost friends, those lonely weekends when bffs found bfs. This is the reason I started to hang with couples; it kept me from suffering the ever-impending loss from coupledom with single pals.

Anyhoo, life has changed in a lot of ways, and I don't know if I'm quite ready to try to write about them. My shop remains the same. Summer was good. I have health insurance. I've continued to run, surprisingly; I went out last night, in the dark (my secret love). I felt strong. I feel like I'm getting better at it, which I attribute mostly to my genius idea to get gel inserts for my shoes (ah, bliss). I went out and did a 12K in San Francisco about a month ago, and it changed me, which is surely something that should be relegated to the marathon finishers of the world, but seriously, I feel different about physical exercise now.

The middle of the race was back and forth across the Golden Gate Bridge with a swig of Gatorade in the middle, and plenty of botched tourist selfies with runners sticking their tongues out in the background. The wind was blowing in my face and I was feeling a bit high on endorphins, and I realized that my high school swim coach, who died this year of pancreatic cancer, would be so proud of me, at thirty-one, for still doing something with my body and taking care of it. And in that moment, all those pregnant ladies and their realizations that their bodies were "magical, wonderful" things with all kinds of creative power, made sense to me. I was no longer an athlete, but I was still doing something with my body, my flawed hurting body. I wish I could bottle that feeling and those thoughts together. They were really, really important. That was the day I stopped being a former athlete, and I became an adult-who-takes-good-care-of-herself.

The plumber just left. He installed a new toilet. I asked him to leave the old one so I could do something with it. I hated to see the original 40s/50s toilet be thrown away like trash. I'll take a good picture of it and share it later. He noticed all of my paintings and asked if I was an artist. "Well, kinda, I guess, a writer, but really, not really" is what I said. So I was motivated to write a little. There ya go.

Thrift Share :)

Vintage Clipless Cycling Shoes from Diadora

I have a new fun Monday activity. I drive about 45 minutes south, into the country towns, where there is a small town with great thrifting. I even did myself a solid and ate lunch instead of what I usually do: waiting until 3 o'clock when I'm done running around for the day. I was pretty proud. I got a veggie burger and fries. The people next to me had chicken fried steak platters with mashed potatoes, etc. When I left, I realized they had smothered gravy and potatoes with raisins across the plate. How did my Oakie family never teach me this? Anyhow, I got some great stuff and had a really good time.

Vintage 1950s Silk Vera Scarf with African Women :)

There was a lady with a toy yorkie in one store, and someone asked her how much she paid for it (seemed like a strange question to me). She answered without hesitation, "$500". Wow.

Hanova of Pasadena Candle Holder - Very Cool

I actually tried a new thrift store, which I rarely do, since they are usually pop-ups with no vision and close just as soon as they started. Anyhow, the place was great! It was cleaner than any other store in town. They didn't have a ton of great stuff, but they had great prices. I actually bought my first maxi dress which goes all the way to the ground (wow, and I'm tall!). I'm gonna wear it today. I'm pretty excited about it.

Please take a moment to read the most recent news about Syria, and consider making a donation to MCC, currently providing direct aid to Syrian refugees.

I sell damaged things.

Vintage magazine advertisement - love those togas :)

Over the past two years of my very short reselling career, I have received some pretty nasty messages from strangers. In the beginning, I may have cried, and now I find them comical. I have the power, I remind myself, the power to block.

I sell damaged things because I am not an expert in everything, but I am a finder of cool things. I like to be a conduit to other thrift-lovers, those who lose to upcycle and rehabilitate. I like being somewhere in the middle of the pack. I occasionally fix things, sew up little holes, but for the most part, I list things as they are.

The Salvation Army stores in my city sell mattresses. They take donations of old mattresses and strip out all of the schtuff away from the skeleton of the mattress, then refill it with new schtuff (foam? fluffiness?) and sell them for low thrift store prices in like-new condition. Another store in town just takes the mattresses apart, but they don't sell the mattresses, so I figure they like being middle-people too, like me, just a cog in the larger wheel of thrift.

Where do you fall in the thrift spectrum? Are you primarily a donater? Shopper? EBayer? How do you find your identity in the pretty-freakin'-large recycling world?

Megan's Thrift Hotline :)

Vintage Better Homes & Gardens Magazine: Fun Outdoor Play Structures :)

Wouldn't it be great if there were a thrift store hotline for your city/area? You could call it if you were looking for something specific, and then make a more direct route to your goal. Some places are just not good "vintage" places. Some places have no jewelry. My hotline will be popular because it will save people time and it will make secondhand goods more accessible because they'll be easier to find. Or I'll just say "check eBay". Sometimes that really is your best bet. Thrifting is a consummate art.

I was thinking of this today whilst thrifting, and some cops came looking for watches. I pointed them in a better direction only to find a farmer (i.e. overalls) looking for "a 1920s suit" ten minutes later. He also needed pointing in the right direction, but in that instance, I didn't want to intervene, reminding myself that sometimes I need to mind my own business. Well, most of the time.

I've been acting like a turd lately, a real ass hat, a tool. I'm trying to stop doing that, to stop apologizing for it, and to just keep being better in general. I fail a lot, fall down a lot, and generally just get into ruts and feel stuck. I keep thinking that I've reached some state of adulthood where I stop making stupid mistakes, saying the absolute wrong thing, and pressing send when I'm angry. But being 30 does not an adult make. Being an adult requires hard work, determination, and a hell of a lot of humility. Unfortunately, I'm oftentimes missing the latter.

Peace out.

Rummage Sale Planning - Part 3

Very unique vintage square dance skirt - just sold :)

When I was in college, I was really interested in event planning as a career. So I got into large-scale athletic events, events that get planned all year long, take a lot of human power and time, and are fun to participate in. I ended up on my knees one year in San Francisco, taking ankle monitors off of hundreds of open-water swimmers as they came out of the water, freezing and exhilarated. That was a good hair day, the last one I can remember clearly. I think it was the salty sea air.

Rummage sale planning is very different. There isn't a lot of "planning" that I'm able to do on my own. I have the idea. I execute the idea. People come alongside me to help, and somehow it happens. If I were more organized, I imagine the sale would be more organized. I don't know how to make that happen. I'm sure that other people do. For the time being, people will bring things to church this week, I will spend Thursday and Friday organizing the donations, and several hours on Saturday trying to sell it all. That may not be enough for some people, but it's enough for me.

Last night, while running an errand for a friend, I happened to pass by one of my favorite burrito places. The sign was down and the place was empty. I haven't eaten there in months. I guess unbeknownst to me, I'd been keeping them in business ;)

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.

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 :)

Thrift Share Monday :)

Kilbran sheets - Cats with sneakers (so they can run away!)

I always like to create a theme with my thrift shares. This one shall heretofore be named "vintage linens". There's not much else to say. I stayed up really late last night to have a test done this morning on my brain, so I took the time to get a bunch of stuff done, which is super out-of-character for me, but Anna Karenina just wasn't doing it for me in the helping-me-stay-awake department. These photos are proof of my supreme productivity. I was super loopy and making myself laugh by the time I went to sleep. We have a good time together, myself and I.

Vera sheets from Burlington - "Springtime"

I went to see the dogs tonight. We went on a long walk and then we had lots of lazy snuggling time. They were lazy. I was snuggling. There was also some playing of Rock Band, and let's just say that me singing Jethro Tull is not pretty. Not pretty at all. I cut out as lead singer before Pearl Jam came on, but we were all singing by that time ("Alive" from Vs.). Eddie Vedder is my aeroplane.

Vintage curtains with Peanuts characters playing sports :)

It's late and I need to go to bed, because I didn't get enough sleep last night, and I need to go to work in the morning like the excellent grown-up that I am.

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 :)

Sifting through junk :)

Autumn-themed Vera tablecloth :)

So I'm in this weird selling rut, where my professional wheels-and-heels job is cutting into my getting-my-hands-dirty job. So this afternoon, on a long lunch, I went to a warehouse downtown where I've heard that there is a lot of junk. Well, it didn't look like they were open, but the door was ajar, so I timidly walked in. They were closed, but I looked so professional and out-of-place that they felt sorry for me and let me walk around anyway, and referred to me as "this nice lady". I really needed to sift through a bunch of junk today. I needed a good day.

Next time I go in, I will go on a day when they are actually open, and I will wear overalls or something equally unattractive, so I can really dig and get gross. They said not to pay attention to prices, so I imagine I can get a bunch of stuff and make 'em a deal, which I love to do. Also, I found some old PETA cards that encouraged vegetarianism, and a homemade mug that said "Pappy" with a naked woman as the handle (like at a ship's prow).

I finally got my bike cleaned and photographed and almost listed. I am making progress, painfully slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Peace out mofos :)

People are animals!

There are few words to describe the past several days of my life. So I don't know if I'll try. All of it makes me feel very alone, and that cannot be helped.

But then some good things are happening, like I thrifted a lot yesterday. I bought Throwing Copper because I dunno, I had a seizure several years ago and got rid of all of my "dark" music, and listened to this song over and over again in the car. Also, I found a brown tweed shift that goes all the way to my knees (!) from Ann freakin' Taylor. Then, I finally figured out how to go to one of those quick car washes with free vacuums, so now my car looks so much better. Also, my thirteen-year-old friend made chocolate cake, and the dog ate a frog, so I laughed a lot, and got a lot of crazy kisses from dog #2 whose mouth was not foaming. So now I'm gonna go to work, and I'm gonna think about all of these good things when I'm feeling down.

Thanks for being here. I'm quite fond of you.

Nothing.

The thing about trash and recycling, is that there's always something there, a tangible object, a thing to feel and see (and sometimes even smell). When you throw something away, that thing goes somewhere (usually to a landfill). You recycle something, and it gets transformed and used again. The cycle goes on and on and on. It's a beautiful thing.

But with love, sometimes there is nothingness and emptiness, and "no more". Sometimes feelings disappear, and can never be found again. Where they go, we don't know. We go to marriage counseling to find them. We take lovers, hoping to feel good again. We drink. We laugh. We try to want and long and ache the way we used to.

Nothing.

I am feeling a bit empty of love at this moment, wishing and missing for what I once carried with me every day like a warm, tear-soaked, blanket.

No more love like a life force that could leap tall buildings. No more love. No more love. No more love.

"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.

Terracycle.

Over the summer, I found a company called Terracycle, and at first I thought, "this is a sham - after all, I did click on an ad from Facebook to get here". But the more I looked at it, the more I realized that, underneath the kitschy products that look like they were made for tweens (e.g. purses made of Fritos bags), there was a real campaign to eliminate waste.

At my school, in the copy room/mail room/supply room, there are easy-to-see boxes that collect receipts for a local grocery store that donates to the school, then there is a bag that holds those (what are they called?) Box Tops for Education. They're easy to use, and that makes me remember to use them.

Blah, blah, blah. The point I'm working towards (very poorly), is that our schools are places where kids are. And kids need things to do and be excited about. In my city, trash is a pretty big industry, and this program provides a way to both recycle things that would otherwise just sit in landfills, and helps to create and sustain a culture of recycling.

Milk Cartons

Vintage "Compu-Mug". I've found others, and they all have fun sayings :)

Cartons are recyclable, like juice boxes and milk cartons, but not all cities offer carton recycling. You can find out if your community offers carton recycling by going to The Carton Council's website. I'm considering starting a petition to my city (I don't know who I'd petition, the city council, perhaps?) to ask them to begin providing carton recycling. I don't know how much it would cost to add that kind of technology, but cities do make money off of their recycling programs.

The school where I work doesn't have milk cartons. They have milk bags. It's really amazing how school cafeterias work. If you're going to change the world, I think you have to start in a school cafeteria, because that's where you'll find the most people.

Anyhow, check the website and see if your city recycles cartons, and if they do, then recycle them!

Thrift Share Monday :)

Stocking kits are always a big deal :)

So I bought a few Christmas items. I haven't listed my Christmas stock yet. I figure it needs to dip below the triple digits before I do. I know that people might want to start working on projects, though, so I listed this kit yesterday.

Onion River Pottery

Whenever I see these mugs, I buy them. I just think they're so special. I've totally become a mug person in the past year. I've come to believe that the first things we look at in the morning should make us smile (and that definitely includes bedmates).

Florsheim boots

The elementary school across the street started ringing its bells this morning, even though the kids aren't back in school yet. Personally, I'm not ready for the school bells to start ringing. Somehow, in the midst of a summer of neverending heat, vacation has ended and regular life must return.

Peace out :)

30, here I come :)

Oh, the cliché! Oh, the pain!

I think I've spent the past decade trying to pay for crimes committed in the previous decade: friends hurt, men poorly treated, siblings bullied. So now that I'm entering the next decade, I think I'm going to turn a new leaf, and stop apologizing. I've put myself out there, with all of my warts, said "I love you" and "I'm sorry" to those that matter, and now I'm going to turn around and just let life happen.

I've been a beggar looking for scraps. I constantly espouse the need to compost (the necessity, I should say), the benefits of thrifting (it's fun!), and my deep love of recycling, but I've emphasized those things because I, at my core, believe that I'm not worthy enough to have what other people have. But I think I'm done with that. I think I'm done waiting for other people to tell me how amazing I am, and start telling myself, and treating myself, the way I want to be treated.

Look out world!

Thrift Share :)

Valentino of Italy

This summer, I have been the happy recipient of some thrifty gifts, given specifically for my store. Perhaps people are beginning to worry about my poverty, or maybe God is good and providing for me, and all that jazz. Whatever. I'm not a big fan of the Almighty right now. I think I had some expectations about what my life would be like after I graduated from seminary, and those don't seem to have panned out, so I'm pouting, in perpetuity.

Sybil Connolly of Dublin

So these patterns came in a box that my friend found while she was moving out of her house, which had previously been owned and lived in by her grandmother. She called me up and asked me if I wanted a box of old patterns. Ever the shrewd thrifter, the first thing out of my mouth was, "How old are they?" She said some things that I don't remember. All I heard was "Vogue" and I said "Yes!"

Bill Blass of New York, I suppose?

There was a period of time in my thrifting where I found a bunch of Vogue patterns, but these are probably the nicest I've ever had.

Non sequitor alert! I just did yoga on my own for an extended period of time. I feel super good about it. Usually I get bored and antsy and don't do much, but I felt like I really got into it, and was able to get some work done. It may have something to do with my new car, or maybe the fact that I went to my chiropractor today, and she massaged my back with what appeared to be an electric sander. Sometimes I wish I could give her a lot of money, because she is so good to me. But alas, the poverty.

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

Ah, gardens :)

Five LP Set - Very Good Condition - An Uncertain Purchase

So I took a trip to the Bay Area over the weekend, not for fun, but it was enjoyable in some ways. I got to hang out at the pretty cool Stanford campus, and eat healthy veggie-rich food from the hospital cafeteria. A huge oatmeal (with toppings!) was $1.70. Oh my goodness. I sat in the cafeteria Saturday morning, eating oatmeal and reading the Chronicle, and it was really a lovely time. Later, I got to walk around Palo Alto (and drive, which was way worse) with my brother, while we practiced circular breathing (see yesterday's post) and watched the ducks in the fountain.

I really do love college campuses. As I walked around on Friday, I was thinking, "What if I went back to school someday to be a professor? What if a place like this hired me? I would need to learn how to be a better academic writer. I am a decent one, but I really need to work on solidifying my zany ideas so that other people can get a better grasp on them".

Oftentimes, the best thing about college campuses is how environmentally conscious they are. The hospital had a very easy-to-understand system of composting/recycling/trash, and all of their disposable utensils, plates, to-go boxes, and cups were compostable. Now, of course, this stuff does take time to compost, but it just made me so happy to be able to participate. Also, the portion of the hospital I was primarily in was covered in gardens, which could all be seen from inside, and enjoyed on benches when one decided to enjoy the outdoors (which was far cooler, temperature-wise, than my lovely home). All in all, I enjoyed being with loved ones, and getting to see a new place. Also, I was duly inspired to increase my gardening, so props to Palo Alto for that :)