Regroup, keep movin'...*

Vintage I. Magnin Pottery - Pretty neat, huh?

I am currently sitting in a whole house, looking onto a rain-spattered patio, two needy poodles by my side, French Toast and coffee in my belly, and listening to talk radio, ensuring that my extreme liberalism is mediated a bit by the other side.

What is it about me and the fall that makes me such a mess? What is it about me that makes me such a mess? At this time last year, I was working through my final year of grad school, and it felt like agony. It felt neverending, like every day was scheduled to the minute, and I had no room to move. This is different. This is emotional exhaustion, and I'm going to sit in this chair until I figure out what to do about it.

How did this happen? Well, it was a confluence of events, really: I haven't been doing so well on reaching my goal of no more freak-outs and no more chasing men (I know - I'm sorry), and I'm dirt poor and constantly worrying about money and blaming myself for my own choice to work in a field that will never help me leave the garage, and I'm in a weird spot where my support system has changed pretty drastically and I'm still trying to restructure and rebuild.

And then there is the reality of being a grown-up, that relationships are difficult, work is everyday, and sometimes low blood sugar becomes life threatening. Sometimes I want to scream at my friends who don't see that the answers are right in front of them, but right now I'm on the other side, unsure that there are any answers or solutions to what are really pretty small problems that I have allowed to overwhelm me.

I don't believe in "God's lessons" or that somehow I'm in a complicated play where in the end, I will be wiser because everything has worked out perfectly for the best. I believe in choice, and human nature, and this morning I am really, really stuck.

I'm taking some time off from life, gonna regroup, try to make sense of it all. Peace out :)

*The title is part of a lyric from a math album I sang on in elementary school. The full lyric goes, Regroup, keep movin', don't let the numbers get you down. Classic.

I guess it's 9/11.

I work with people who are hurting, and oftentimes within that hurt are questions of forgiveness. What is forgiveness? How does a person forgive? What does forgiveness mean? And I never answer those questions for another person, because those are deep questions about faith and belief, and it's incredibly important for a person to be able to make decisions about forgiveness autonomously, without the interests of other people getting in the way.

Larger issues of peace are incredibly complex. Forgiveness and peace may be inextricably linked, but how one goes about finding peace is also a deeply personal issue. Sometimes we get very sidetracked with blame, and wanting answers. Sometimes there are no answers. Sometimes life sucks and we just have to keep going.

In Bikram last night, the teacher (or supreme yogi, or whatever they're called) reminded us that Bikram helps us to find stillness, or forces us to be still. All I know is that at the end of the class, I want to jump up and run out the door. I want the hot to go away. I want to breathe cool air. But I heed those words (because what am I there for if I don't listen?), and I lie as still as I can, for as long as I can (probably less than the recommended three minutes), before I hurry to test my sugar and get some fresher air.

When I lived in the jungle, I had few moments of cool crisp air to breathe. When I came off the plane, I thought I would die. It felt like an oven (it was the equator, after all). And my body suffered in the heat, and my soul suffered with loneliness, but I survived. Sometimes all we can do is survive, and hope that God really is there and real, or else none of it means anything anyway and there is no point.

So breathe the hot air, because it's all you have. Be mad if you want, because it won't make the hot air go away. I like to be mad at God. God can handle it.

I love Air Supply :)

Miniature oil painting - It reminds me of my home

Perhaps some of you wonderful readers remember last summer's heartaches and long posts about love, and longing, and loss, and "Oh! The meaning of it all", as I struggled through ex-boyfriends and trying to figure out how to be grown up.

I was watching Crazy, Stupid, Love for the second time yesterday, trying to turn my brain off in the midst of familial clatter. There was a lot of stuff in the movie about "soul-mates" and how when we find our soul-mate, we should never stop trying to be with them. I don't know how I feel about this. Just because we feel a certain way about another person, doesn't mean that that person feels anything similar to that for us. I don't believe in destiny or fate. I believe in human beings and the choices they make.

I'm a huge Air Supply fan (Making love out of nothing at all). I am a lover of cheesy '80s rock ballads. I'm ready for the time in my life when I can look backwards and think, "It was all worth it". I don't know if I've completely learned that lesson yet. I'm ready to be grown-up already. When does that happen?

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.