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?

Haiti relief: Parte Deux

Stoneware mugs made in Romania - Eastern Europe, hollah!

Sometimes I get a pain in my chest when I wish that I could do something that I cannot do, and it usually has to do with helping someone, or teaching someone something. When I have that special moment of realization that I cannot control other people, or change them, or teach them adequately what no one but Life has taught me, I sit in a pool of sorrow, with the chest pain.

The world can be a horrible, awful place. And in my life, I have seen a lot of that awfulness, and I've had to reconcile with it, look it in the face and acknowledge that it exists. This has made me the awesome person that I am today, but it also makes me like eighty-years-old. And I walk around with this knowledge every day, hoping that I could save people from it, save them from war, and murder, and rape, and incest, and the deep lasting wounds in families and people that last for generations. I wish I could save people from ever knowing, because it's an awful thing, this knowing.

But it is in the knowing (about all the bad awfulness) that true peace and understanding can be found, where that inability to control that we all have, can be accepted and owned, and truly felt deep down in our bones.

When we try to spare others from pain, sometimes it backfires, and our best intentions are like water in a bucket full of holes. Sometimes the best things we can do for one another, are to stand in solidarity, to acknowledge pain, and to comfort those who mourn.

Too abstract? Whatever. Peace out mofos :)

Haiti relief - Part 1

This has been lookin' pretty on my dress form lately :)

There's a This American Life episode about Haiti (written transcript here) I reference frequently. It's about relief agencies, mission organizations, and NGOs working in Haiti over the last several decades, and how it appears to have affected the nation. In sum, Haiti's economy has gotten worse, significantly worse, as the number of aid organizations in the country has increased exponentially.

The problem is that missionaries, for many years, have given to people what people should be able to provide for themselves. For whatever reason, the served became unable to serve themselves (war, famine, disease, etc.), and very well-meaning people come in to help. But the mere act of helping changes the very human dynamic of day-to-day life, and over time, changes the way people function overall, changing their beliefs about themselves and their own abilities and capacity.

After the 2010 earthquake, billions of dollars from around the world went to Haiti. But relief was slow. It was almost as if the nation itself could not rebuild, because they'd been trained not to. The following excerpt from the TAL episode describes the ideal solution:

...You teach the people of Haiti how to do all these things. You use this rebuilding process to give Haiti the ability to build itself...This option, capacity building, do I even need to say it? It takes a long time and it's really, really hard. You need foreign money and you need Haitians to believe in the projects and to participate fully...

It's a complicated problem with an equally complicated solution. Change is difficult. A doctor is interviewed in the episode. He does the very hard work of allowing Haitians to fail in hopes that they might learn from their mistakes (as many of us do), and that these failures would result in greater systemic strengthening. Worst case scenario for this doctor? People die.

Haitians are not the victims in this situation. We all play a part, and Haiti's situation is cloned around the world. People feel sorry for other people...and so it goes.

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 :)

I can't think of a title.

Shimano shoes - simple style, but very useable :)

I went to the city this weekend with my bff, saw Lori McKenna (ah, bliss), and had a silly time being away from home and getting back on solid ground.

Last week was really hard. I was faced with my professional inadequacies, and that was painful and difficult to work through. Somehow I thought graduating would make me more of a pro, and less like swiss cheese, but ah, 'tis not to be.

Have you ever told yourself (or someone else), "Yeah, I've dealt with that" or "That's not an issue for me anymore"? Well that was what I thought about my own struggles. I probably never realized that I was believing that I was whole and healed (and perfect), but my actions spoke otherwise. I've been behaving like someone who looks the part, but doesn't have all the skills yet. Yeah, teenagers can have sex, but should they? It's like that. So now that my humility has been sufficiently restored, I can go back to the business of helping people with my ego somewhat wounded, but my general safety improved.

I saw Ghandi yesterday, and now I'm reminded how he beat his wife, and how being human means being imperfect, and learning and growing and changing, becoming better, stronger, and wiser (hopefully).

Peace out :)

BIKRAM #2 (and #3)

 

So Tuesday, I went back to the hot yoga studio. There was a different instructor, and she suggested that I sit out one set of each posture (they do two sets of everything), so I did. After an hour, I thought I was going to die from the heat and I couldn't slow my heart rate down, so I just laid on the ground for the last twenty minutes and willed my breath to keep me alive. I succeeded.

Wednesday (i.e. yesterday), I went again, this time not because I had something to prove to myself or anyone else, but because I really wanted to go back. My job can be stressful if I allow it to be, and it's really nice to look forward to a time where I can let out all the bad stuff that's hanging out in my body. I'm not a big believer in toxins and all that jazz. I'm not going to buy a cleansing kit that does horrible things, nor am I going to go crazy and do the cayenne/lemonade thing. But a regular thing that makes me feel good every day? I think I can get behind that.

I know. I know. Now I'm a crazy Bikram convert. But seriously, I need something to look forward to that is different from everything else. I need something that doesn't mess with my spine or my blood sugar. So, for the time being, this is going to be it. Deal with it haters.

On another note, I moved back home last night. At one point, I had dirty laundry, clean laundry, food, all my eBay stuff, my briefcase, toiletries, and my post-yoga mat and towels all in piles in my super small living room. If the lighting were better in my apartment, I would have taken a picture. It was scary stuff.

Then I cried about turning 30 and laughed while watching Bachelor Pad. All in a day's work.

The brain fog.

Tape dispensing machine. I love those pretty buttons :)

I am in such a brain fog right now. Yesterday was super windy here in my fair city, and our cherry tree broke in half. I heard something fall against my window, and walked outside to see what it was. By the time I made it to the front door, I'd forgotten why I was there. I didn't see the tree until someone pointed it out to me later. I went to yoga soon after, hoping that some static poses would do well for my static-filled brain.

Being out of school does not bother me. I can fill time like no one's business. But my brain is not my friend. I forget things. I can't think. I spend whole minutes staring at the ceiling. I used to do that because I was depressed. Now it feels like I'm resting my brain, but I haven't done anything to rest from. A friend, who also just graduated from a masters program, told me that her blood pressure was suddenly hovering at a ridiculously low level. I think that this is what biofeedback is all about. Our bodies are telling us that they need to rest, and even though it feels like a complete turn-about from where we've just been, it is a necessary part of the recovery process.

I was in school for the better part of five years, and I got pressed to limits I didn't know I had. So now, I'm just going to stare at the ceiling for a while, because I forgot what this paragraph was going to be about.

Peace out mofos.

Grad Plans #2

I am having so much anxiety about the overarching theme of graduation. Sure, the ceremony will be great, and the banquet, and the time with family and friends. But this burning in my chest is more than indigestion; it's total fear.

People in my cohort have jobs. People in my cohort are going to get paid, and soon. And I am going to continue to do the things I've been doing all along, because change would be too much for me. Is that sad? Pathetic? I'm not sure that it isn't. There are student loans to pay, and health insurance options to find. And somehow I'm stuck. My brain is stuck. I can't move. I've panicked into stillness.

The beginning of this year, for various reasons (i.e. moving), was horrific. So I'm gradually shifting into the next phase, and that has to be okay for me. I have to accept myself and all of my limitations. I have to accept that I need time and space, and piles of books from the library to ease the transition. I need to order my Slovenia: 1945 book and start to dream again about writing. I need space to move around in. I need rest, and silence, and lots and lots of hugs.

And then, eventually, when I least expect it, I can move on.

A great idea.

 

Today, I was sitting in church, and for some reason, I had a great idea. My senior paper is all about dwelling where you are, blooming where you're planted and all that. So in an effort to prepare for the presentation of my paper on Wednesday, my brain has been throwing around ideas to save my city, to encourage people to stay (to encourage myself to stay as well).

Here's the idea: I create an alternative sentencing facility where people can come and live and work and get better. There's an organic farm where people can work, and a dorm facility with industrial kitchen where people can come and eat. Maybe there will be a restaurant, or dining hall or something on the property. Maybe I'll need two kitchens. Every one will have a job. It will be communal living, and there will be therapists and a doctor on-site. I don't know if I'll be able to have it in town, or if I'll need more property. I imagine that it would be a good idea to have animals, but I don't see animals in my dream right now.

Gosh, I'd have to get grants, and I'd have to get permission from the city and county courts. It'd be a huge project. There would have to be permanent employees to give the place structure and consistency.

I like to dream.