An imperfect life.

I ridiculously love Degas, and have since I was a kid

I've been trying for a long time to have my perfect life, to be the perfect me, to get to the edge of my potential. Is it possible that I've been trying so hard to be awesome that I've neglected how awesome I already am, just as I am?

I've recently learned that I'm a pretty attractive person. Heretofore, I still held the beliefs bestowed upon me as a child: that I was annoying, dressed like a man, had terrible hair, and just generally looked horrible all the time. So naturally I assumed these things meant that I was ugly, and unlovable. Funny thing is, I'm not ugly, and I'm pretty damn lovable. All of that time spent believing the lies made me create a persona to cope with the ugliness. Everything I wear is an attempt to not look decrepit. I avoid certain hairstyles because they accentuate my utter awfulness. I exercise and eat healthy because it keeps me from looking horrifyingly ugly.

But now I know these things are a lie. Every. Single. One. So now what? How do I find out who I really am under all of the things I've put on to keep from showing the world the ugliness underneath? How do I become someone who is completely herself whilst still communicating health and well-being in my professional life? Where is the perfect middle and how do I get there?

And what happens if I stop striving for perfection altogether?

Facebook lamenting...

Set from Jahreszeiten, design by Susanne Dolker

I have friends on Facebook who lament. I try to lament as little as possible, because the responses are just underwhelming. No one has anything really meaningful to say, because Facebook isn't an inherently meaningful thing. Real person-to-person interaction is best for coping, in my opinion. Even Skyping doesn't do it for me. There is still distance in the conversation.

So when people lament, I try to be as encouraging and empathetic as possible. People lament in public because they want to be heard. They want to be seen. They don't need to hear how "It will all be better someday" or "Silly you. Be positive! Nothing is as bad as you think it is." Those kinds of responses are meant to send encouragement, but I find that they make the lamenter even more angry, because the deep unspoken fear is realized on screen - no one understands.

This is a reminder to myself to be supportive to those who are looking for support, to avoid rubbing people's faces in their own pain.

See you later :)

Huge eBay Sale!

Vintage Kitschy Milk Glass Mug - gotta have 'em :)

Note: In honor of this Tennessee coffee mug, here's a couple "I heart TN" songs to enjoy :)

My shoulders have been really tight over the past couple weeks, even after I went to my favorite $19 massage place (where I've realized that they act confused every time you ask for the special, and try to change your mind so you pay more money - not gonna happen). So the tight shoulders made me think about stress, made me think about clenching my teeth, made me think that I left my bite guard at home a month ago when I started housesitting, and maybe it's time for a new one. So yesterday, I bought a new one. Good work, Megan.

Some sort of whiskey + coffee recipe on the back :)

I've been really stressed about money, like constantly worrying about it, and I imagine that this has contributed to the stress I'm feeling in my upper body. I've been worried about the month of July for like six months, which is crazy, right? I've been worried that this July will be like last July, where I made like $500 and couldn't pay my bills. Well, for whatever reason (pure brilliance, perhaps?), I looked around my super-crowded apartment (on a quick trip home to send orders) and realized "Holy shit! I have a lot of stuff in here." I've been working so hard to increase the base number in my shop that I haven't really sifted through the lot to get rid of stuff that hasn't sold.

Anyhoo, I decided that July is the perfect time to have a huge sale in my eBay shop, and clear out stuff that just hasn't sold. And it's been so great! I'm getting rid of stuff. I'm getting momentum, eyes on my stuff, people browsing around. I love it! I'm realizing how necessary it is for me to clean out the attic, so to speak, to clear out my shop, my head, my body, to be willing, at least once a year, to make a change in the status quo, and grease the wheels of my gosh-darn life.

Thanks for stopping by - come again soon :)

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.

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.

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 :)

Frugal tip of the day - Free Yoga :)

 
So I've been doing a lot of yoga lately. I started about a year ago, give or take, and it has helped me to stay calm as my life has become increasingly more diverse, and I take on more responsibility over my own life and the lives of others. In light of my extreme poverty this summer, I stopped going to my yoga studio. I think it's been months since I was last there, and every time I thought of it, I got a little sad. But then I had an idea. YouTube!

So I am now practicing more than ever, with friendly yogis who've done the world a huge service by donating their time and talent to the world wide web. My spine is straighter, my brain is clearer, and I'm generally a happier person (also, my blood sugar is always better with yoga than with any other form of exercise). I did this one yesterday, and tried a pose I'd never done before. I don't know what I'm going to do when I go back to my garage, and lose out on the benefit of a living room to spread out in ;)

But just in case you're wondering, I will definitely go back to my local neighborhood studio when I have the funds to do so. I think it's important to support the people who pour their lives into the health of the community.

Not much to say

I haven't been writing much this summer, and I've especially not been writing much about thrift. Readership is down, so I assume that means that no one is interested in the meanderings of a crazed post-masters almost-30 girl, living in a garage, and pining over lost love. What can I say?

I have this deep feeling in my bones that my life is about to change drastically, but I don't know how and I don't know when. This has happened to me a couple times in my life, this odd feeling, and I have learned to just go with it, and everything will turn out okay in the end. Maybe I'll dye my hair or get a tattoo. Maybe I'll move out of the country or start singing in a band. Or maybe, just maybe, nothing will change.

Love you all :)

What I want :)

To know me is to know I love cake :)

So in an effort to evidence my desire to want more, here is what I've come up with. While I understand that these things may not all occur, I still want them to. So this is what I wrote the day I decided to start wanting things.

I want a house, with a kitchen, a kitchen window and counter space
I want to write a book, a whole book, and then another, and then another
I want sons who climb trees and get into trouble - I don't want a television
I want to learn Spanish
I want to go to Slovenia - I want to live in Slovenia, learn the language, write my book
I want to tell my mother how she hurt me, and let her know that I forgive her
I want to hike the John Muir trail
I want to do a headstand and the splits
I want to take a Northern California thrifting tour
I want to see Lori McKenna with Amy for my birthday
I want to go to the annual San Francisco library book sale
I want to visit my friends in Canada, and in Kansas, and in Switzerland
I want to go to an art conference in New Mexico
I want to go to Vista Academy to see my tile

Another day, I will explain all of these, but not today. Peace out.

Want is a terrible thing.

I wasn't much of a Barbie girl...my poor mother laments this

“[S]he believed that the Buddhists were right – that if you want, you will suffer; if you love, you will grieve.”

-Anne Lamott, Crooked Little Heart

Last week, in between watching the Olympics, reading Jane Austen, and hangin' with the dogs, I thought about some stuff. I generally try not to think too much, since I'm neurotic and thinking too much all the time anyway, but sometimes it's necessary to sit in silence and work to untangle some things in your brain. I probably have done a lot of thinking this summer, since I had no time to think the previous year. Perhaps the thoughts just backed up in my brain, and had to be processed one by one, like items on a conveyer belt coming out my ears.

When I was a kid, I didn't want things. I just didn't. I learned at an early age that wanting was futile, that it only brought pain, and that it was just easier to avoid it entirely. But when things started to happen that were outside of my control - I fell in love, and didn't know what to do about it - I was faced with the question, "How does a person want and not want, love and avoid, all at the same time?" After all those years of not-wanting, the feeling of want became unbearable, so uncomfortable, and I got stuck between the two, not being able to choose either one.

So I've decided to want things, and unfortunately (oh boy), wanting means suffering. Wanting inevitably means not having, not getting. And at some point, I might get the things that I want, the big things, or maybe I'll get different things, things that are better for me than the things I want (thank you, Mick Jagger). But I'm tired of believing that I don't deserve the things that other people have, that for whatever reason I deserve less because I am less.

Oh geez, sometimes I sound like a makeup commercial.

What to do in the heat

Palazzo Pant Jumpsuit - Oh to have the energy to make!

1. Put a fan directly facing you
2. Move slowly - Talk with volunteers at thrift stores
3. Take an afternoon nap/siesta (I like to listen to talk radio)
4. Hydrate regularly (Factor in excess sweating)
5. Expect less of yourself (and others)
6. Exercise early in the morning, or late in the evening
7. Write more: Letters, emails, poems, stories
8. Read more: World news, fiction, non-fiction
9. Forgive quickly (heat psychosis is rampant)
10. Listen to folk music on Pandora (Emmylou Harris, baby!)

To do list :)

Things to do in the near future:

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

Record setting day :)

Thorvald Marthinsen Scandinavian Sterling from Norway

Record listing to selling time: 3 minutes

I listed these spoons at a reasonable price, because I wanted to sell them quickly. I just didn't know how quickly. I'm so proud of myself for taking the time to find all the marks. 

NM: Norsk Monster
N: Norway
830S: Scandinavian Sterling Silver
Chalice/Goblet: Thorvald Marthinsen Solvvarefabrikk (1900-1925)

I think I've made some big gains over the past month or so. I've been selling fewer low-priced items, and that was difficult to do at first. First of all, I have had to work really hard to learn what to look for. Then I had to take lots and lots of risks, and allow items to sit in my shop for months. I had to be confident that I had listed the item at a fair price for its value. I definitely had a few bad days over the weekend. I lost my confidence big time, and I was starting to doubt myself. Self-doubt is normal, and sometimes I need to take those moments of self-doubt to remind myself that all is not lost.

Patience, friends.

Feelings of lost-ness

Handmade Hmong quilted wall hanging

There is a deep melancholy that comes with graduating. My bachelors degree came and went, and I don't quite recall what I did afterwards. I kept my three jobs, and enjoyed quality book time and wandering the aisles at the public library. I think I mostly just lost myself in a terrible relationship that all started with a black string bikini and a Winnebago. I started training for an Ironman triathlon, and got diagnosed with diabetes and epilepsy.

Graduating didn't make my life fall apart, but it gave me less structure to cope when life did fall apart. I think I've created a significant structure now that will help to alleviate some of that lost-ness that I experienced eight years ago. Mostly I need to ride out the weirdness. Maybe I'll also go to the beach a couple times.

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.

Too busy to care

My idea of Hell is to be young again.

- Marge Piercy

As I get older, I find that life is never what I expect it to be. It is always more difficult. It is always more complicated. This past week, I have found myself at an end I've never experienced before, some sort of emotional place I didn't know existed, where life can be physically exhausting, and still continue. I can be more tired than I've ever been before, but still go to work, and still be good at my job.

Everyone is limited. We are human. But to choose to live in that imperfect humanness, accepting all of one's faults and limitations, allows us to be who we were truly meant to be. For me, that means that I am less able to be "on" than other people I know. I have less energy to give than other people I know. And every effort I make to fight that reality just puts me further behind.

Today, I didn't go to church. I felt guilty. There are things I need to take care of, and people expecting me to take care of those things. But I only have what I have. I can only give what I am able to give. The past few weeks have opened me up to a new reality of understanding what people mean when they say that the older they get, the less they care about what other people think. Older people also say that they like themselves more than they did when they were younger.

It's way better being a grown-up.

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.

omg — what have I done?

 

All of my insecurities are flying at my face right now, and I'm in pain. I don't know how it happened, and now I'm in this hole where I'm ugly and fat and I can't do anything right. Just typing that was difficult, and now I'm crying.

I was raised to be attuned to everyone's emotions but my own, everyone else's needs to the exclusion of my own. I was raised to believe that I had to be perfect or my parents would get rid of me. Oh my goodness. How horrible is that?

And now, in the midst of this silly business I try to pay the bills with, I keep getting hit with the reminder that no thing and no one is perfect. And to top it all off, I'm the one throwing the punches. I'm the one who loves thrift and recycling, the imperfect things of the world, the things that have been thrown away. I'm the one who decided that somehow this love would define me and my worldview. I'm the one who is somehow made whole through it.

And somehow, I'm the one I keep throwing away.

What's up with that?

 

At my job, I can make one hundred good decisions, and generally just be my bad ass self, and then one bad decision, and suddenly, I'm a failure. Everything I've done for the past few days is for naught, and I should never be gainfully employed, and I suck suck suck.

What's up with that?

Forgiving ourselves: treating ourselves the way we'd want to be treated by other people, is a difficult thing indeed. I can't tell you how many times this subject comes up for me in conversation with other people. At least once a day, I have to explain that it is unacceptable for you (i.e. the person sitting in front of me) to demean yourself in my presence. Don't do it. It serves no purpose. It is never therapeutic for you to hate yourself. It will never do you any good, no matter how much you think about it. So knock it off.

Speech over. Peace out mofos.