Thrifted gifts?

Kid-friendly and appealing vintage Yosemite mug? Made for me.

Dear germophobe friend (you know who you are), stop reading. Do it. Do it now.

Thanks to Van over at Thrift Core for being awesome and vegan and thrifty and cheap, and inspiring me to be less lame and a total downer (as I totally have been lately, admit it), and talk about some recycling.

Thrifted gifts? Yay? Nay? My ethic of gifting is finding the perfect thing, the thing that says "I know you, and I see you, and I love you as you are." Oh my gosh. I'm cracking up right now, because after writing that, I realized what a weirdo I am. But anyhow, there are no guarantees. You may get a thrifted gift from me, or you may get a poem, or a framed piece of art, or a framed original comic (I am an excellent single-pane comic artiste - no joke).

So yes, that does mean that I have a stash all year long that waits for birthdays and Christmas to get used. It also means that my goal is your happiness. So selfless of me (meh. I'm just trying to buy your love like everyone else).

You will not get something gross. Because if I couldn't think of anything on the way to your house at the last minute, I will bring you alcohol, or cake. And that will make you happy.

Peace out :)

Actually, you're pretty awesome.

We all have baggage. We've all made decisions we regret. I mean, if you're over the age of 30, you've had lovers, haters, and maybe even some pregnancies. You've been drunk one too many times, written one too many poems on your arm, and made out with the wrong person in front of a room full of people.

You've dropped out of school. You've broken up with the love of your life, "...because while he was sweet and sexy and basic, you were afraid you wouldn't be able to discuss Russian novels together (The Deep End of the Ocean, Jacquelyn Mitchard)." You've listened to more Phil Collins and Taylor Swift than you care to admit. You have a tattoo of someone's name that treated you badly. You've loved other people, taken care of other people, more than you've taken care of yourself.

You've hurt people on purpose, and said nasty things that still haunt you. But you deserve to be loved unconditionally, with abandon, just like everyone else, no matter what you've done.

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!

Black-and-White Thinking

I have not been able to find information on the artist :(

Last summer, almost a year ago, I decided that I had enough oomph in me to tell an ex that I'd been in love with him for a very long time. I'd never told him because it seemed so silly. As time had passed, from teens to twenties, it became more crazy a thought. Then suddenly, one Saturday afternoon in July, I had a chance, and I took it.

Boy did I ever take it. When I got him in front of me, I dumped a decade of thinking on him in a single evening. All of the things I never thought I could say, I said. Suddenly, I had no shame. Those years were behind me; there was no future between us. I figured I would live in the moment and do the thing I thought I'd never be able to do. Except he didn't leave. He stayed and listened. He was kind. And that's where everything went wrong. He told me we could be friends. I told him I could never be his friend - that was the whole point - and then the next day wanted a response. I poured my heart out! I wanted a response! We disagreed vehemently, and that was it. We didn't speak again.

It took me a year (I had to finish graduate school, after all) before I realized what I'd done, that I'd thrown away a relationship just because it didn't fit the mold I wanted it to. I wasn't mad at myself. I understood why I'd done it. I was scared, so very scared, and it was the bravest thing I'd ever done. But the year between then and now was a huge year of emotional growth for me, and suddenly I had more oomph left in me. I called him a couple weeks ago and said I was ready to be friends.

So now I'm trying, in spite of my emotional limitations, to be a friend to someone who I didn't think I could ever feel friendly towards. But somehow my capacity for patience has increased dramatically, and I'm recognizing that relationships can be tricky suckers, and that my black-and-white thinking has kept me from being with people I love. So it's worth the not-knowing. It's worth the gray areas, I think, not because it's easy for me. It's never easy. But I wanted something so much, I think I was willing to let go of my stubbornness. I want to be a person who has good with people, who doesn't have broken relationships all over the place. So, as it often does, this means that I have to let go of unrealistic expectations and go with the flow a little more.

Phew. Life is hard work, folks.

Ingrate.

A mug depicting Picasso's 1954 bullfighting poster

You know when your friends are the biggest jerks in the world, and you feel like such a martyr, but also an awesome person because you forgive them and continue to love them? Yeah, that's you being an asshole, and by you, I mean me. Because it feels like shit on the other side, to be that friend who is a humungous jerk, who didn't do it on purpose, who felt completely justified in the moment. Oh man, I'm remembering all those times I felt like a pious martyr, bestowing grace upon my poor ingrate friends who couldn't hold it together long enough to treat me well.

Well, it doesn't feel so great on the other side. It feels really scary, scary because your friend might decide that enough is enough and call it quits, or they might treat you as you deserve to be treated, like the asshole that you are. Or they might just be the bigger person, and forgive you. Man, life is hard, and not at all black-and-white. It takes work to not throw people away.

My Spanish vocabulary words for the week are pundejo (asshole) and junta or reunion (meeting). I have been working really hard at watching seasons of Weeds to learn Spanish, and listening to people talk to one another in thrift stores.

Mira, Mama, mira!

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.

Single and in need

Oil + vinegar + seasonings = Homemade dressing

Are you married, or partnered? Is there a single (i.e. unmarried) person in your life that you love to love? If not, get one, and soon. The fate of single-kind rests in your hands. We are weak and unorganized. We tend to gather in groups, but real unity doesn't always stick. We need more stable entities to ground us, hold us to a neighborhood, a home. We need people who will stay even when that staying is not a civil agreement marked by the courts.

I don't know when I first started adopting families. I was probably about fifteen or so. I needed something that my own environment wasn't providing, and I looked far and wide for something boring to latch onto. I found that stable boring wonderful something in my best friend and her parents, who sat down every night at 9pm to have dinner together. I was always welcomed warmly, though I never had anything to give beyond my strong dish-washing abilities ;) Those moments helped me stay grounded in a chaotic world, and have served as a template for other families and other dinners.

Tonight, I shared one such dinner. We discussed pink slime and my current employment status. Many strawberries were eaten, and I had an extra helping of salad. It was wonderful because it was shared. I don't sit at home and cry when I eat dinner by myself. I enjoy silence quite a lot, and often long for it during the chaos of the day. But there are times, usually Saturday nights, when all I want is a family to eat dinner with. So thanks to all of my family friends, who welcome me warmly into their homes no matter what I'm wearing, or how much I monopolize the conversation.

A challenging task

 

I am not feeling so great about myself right now. I feel like people are judging me for having a masters degree and not having a solid plan for my life. And these aren't imaginary people - these are people I love! So I'm sitting here trying to convince myself that somehow it's more important to be myself than it is to be who other people expect me to be, even when those people are the people I love most in the world. That's a challenging task.

In school, I had a teacher who scared me, and no matter how much time I spent with this person, I never felt truly accepted. I felt small, and insignificant; not enough. As time went by, I realized that even though I respected this person more than I respected myself, I had to let go of the need to be accepted by them. In order to maintain my own sanity, I had to throw away the idea that my identity somehow hinged on their perception of me, even though that perception was super important to how I saw myself as a person and professional.

So now to be faced with that same dilemma in any form is only a stiff reminder of how important it is to love myself first. I will crumble if I allow an imagined perception of someone else's judgement to determine who I am, even though my faith tells me that other people are more important than me.

Oh happy day!

I just got home from my graduation "gala" where I froze my freakin' butt off. Sometimes the event is burning hot, but tonight it was so cold. I put my hair up. I don't know what it looked like from behind, but it looked awesome from the front. I finally bought some super glue and fixed my pearls so I could wear them.

My mom wouldn't stop saying how "fucking proud" of me she is. My dad kept beaming with misty eyes. It was pretty great. Tonight has reminded me that I have made a life for myself in the last five years, a whole meaningful life with people who love me warts and all. When we got into the car and managed to stop our teeth from chattering, I told them how glad I am to have them with me, because when we're together, I make sense.

Dear L & J, Thanks for loving me. I couldn't have done it without you. I love you both so much.-M

Semi-great day :)

Today was a good day, and I don't have those very often. At least, I don't have particularly good days. Every day is good because I'm not curled up in a ball, wearing all black, and living in my best friend's home office, unemployed and suicidal.

In honor of this great day, I give you the following great things that happened:

1. I found like fifty pounds of gummed brown paper tape, and I figured, "Why not buy it all and have a lot for a long time?" Now I have tape for two years, and it's all recyclable.
2. Then I found a Lululemon yoga top, and it's kelly green, which I look pretty good in. It was well received by those who later admired it for its looks and awesome find-ness.
3. I did a crow pose in yoga for a full second. Then I fell on the floor with a big smile on my face. The instructor thought I was embarrassed, but I was just super proud of myself.
4. After I left yoga, some guy chided me for leaving my car window down, saying that some guy had been looking at it out of the corner of his eye. "Ha!" said I. "Good luck stealing my car, covered in bird shit from sitting under a tree today" (no wonder that prime parking spot is always open at 10:30am). "Go ahead, steal my car. See if I care." Now, that's real freedom.

Today, I present my paper to the world. Then I will go on a thrifting vacation and eat a lot of vegan foods.

More risk = more reward

I spent $30 on three pairs of vintage men's Florsheim shoes this week. I'd like to do things like this more often: pay more money for things that will make me more money. But when I don't buy as much, I get nervous, and spending more money is always scary. I'm finding that biting the bullet and putting money down is more likely to get me money back in the long run. But it takes risk, and that's not always something I'm willing to do. But in order to get return, I have to take bigger risks (Yikes, I sound like a capitalist).

I'm likening this to my dealings with men. More risk = more reward. The more I risk, the more I put out there, the more good that will come back to me (The more bad will come back to me too, but that's not the point I'm trying to make today).

It's scary. So I falter, and hem and haw, saying that it's better to sell the little things. But think of all the energy I expend, and how little I have to show for it! I go back and forth on this issue a lot, so it really helped me to think about romantic relationships, and moving forward in my life rather than doing the same old thing and having nothing to show for it.

I don't think I can go one more weekend without getting a dog. I held a [human] baby for a while today, and I feel like I'll burst if I don't have something to hold onto and love soon.

The non-science of thrift

I'm always looking for things that sell. Of course, this isn't a science. It depends on time of year, even time of month, and time of day at the end of an auction. There are multiple variables, and one can only control for so many, and leave the rest up to fate. These boots were amazing, and when I brought them home, to my dismay, I realized that they smelled like cigarette smoke. Well shoot. That sucks.

I've kinda decided to stop looking for "sure things". I'm not sure they even exist. My best sales are special and rare, and I just have a hunch and go with it. People tell me that they would love to do what I do, but I don't talk it up. It's a job. I happen to love it, but it's still work. And it's a lot of work. My recent feedback problems have only reminded me how much work is involved, and how many people I'm trying to keep happy. Not too many repeat customers when I don't carry the same stuff week-to-week.

I do hate thinking that I've found something great only to have it sit in my shop for months with few overall views and no watchers. But I've learned to brush it off. You win some...you lose some. And that's okay. This week, I bought a bunch of beautiful vintage fabric and upholstery. I hope to list it later in the week. It was a gamble though. I don't know what will happen. I will enjoy taking pictures of the lot though. Beautiful stuff.

Cigarette smoke = yuck

You've put me in a quandary, Jack Donaghy. A quandary.

Tracy Jordan

The past couple weeks, I have been the unwitting purchaser of cigarette smokey clothing and shoes. I am far more likely to smell things that are old, rather than items that are new or newer. I ended up buying five (!) pairs of cigarette smokey pants and one pair of very expensive french boots. I was able to wash the smell out of the pants, but I felt weird about the whole business. I am all for full disclosure, but I really don't like having to include the phrase: "When this item was purchased, it smelled like cigarette smoke."

I guess I'm adding sticking-my-face-in-pants to my regular thrifting ritual. It was not worth the time for those pants, but I didn't want to lose money, so I went through the effort of cleaning them, and in the end, it was no big deal. I don't know what I'm going to do with the boots yet. They're leather, and I've cleaned them with saddle soap, but that did nothing for the smell. I'm considering getting them professionally cleaned, but I don't know if it's worth it on my end to do that. But who would buy them if I didn't?

Until we are called to rise...

We never know how high we are
Till we are called to rise;
And then, if we are true to plan,
Our statures touch the skies--

The heroism we recite
Would be a daily thing,
Did not ourselves the cubits warp
For fear to be a king--

Emily Dickinson (1830-1886)

Sometimes, I eat milk chocolate

 

This recent post by Katy over at "The Non-Consumer Advocate" got some heated responses, so much so that she shut down commentary on the post.

I myself have been the recipient of some pretty nasty online communication. It hurts when people are rude because they can be, instead of assuming the best and perhaps beginning some dialogue about their "negative" feelings. I think that people on Katy's blog were generally able to say how they felt, and the conversation was cordial and honest.

I talk about online manners a lot because I work online. Very, very rarely do I get to meet a customer face-to-face, or a reader for that matter, and I have learned time and again how important it is to be literal in one's communication, and kind above all else. Sometimes, it is even appropriate to anticipate problems and address them before they happen.

I admit that this week, I did not respond well to an online overreaction. I was curt and annoyed when someone took offense at something that was in-no-way meant to be offensive. But in the end, I am only reminded that I am also human, and often fail. Sometimes, I eat milk chocolate.

I am not an alien.

 

When I was seven or eight (or nine?), at Sunday School, we were asked to draw what our life would look like when we were 26. I wrote that I would be a professional ballerina. That was what I wanted to be; I worked like a maniac to be that person, and it didn't work out. My body didn't have what I needed to go as far with dancing as I wanted to go. Then the same thing happened with swimming. My body didn't have what it took.

So now my life is different that I thought it would be. The faces are different from the old faces. The people who were in my life at ages seven, eight, and nine, are no longer in my everyday life. Not a one. And that is strange. I don't have all the markers people commonly have that remind them who they were, and how they became who they are. That disconnect is jarring sometimes. It's normal for a person in my situation, but it's still jarring.

I talk about this stuff a lot, because it's central to my everyday functioning. Sometimes I have to remind myself daily that I'm still real, that I'm a person. I am not an alien. I am not invisible.

You need some love :)

 
1. Orphans
2. Widows
3. Aliens
4. Prisoners
5. Prostitutes
6. Homeless people
7. Mistresses
8. Foreigners
9. Prophets
10. Foster kids
11. Divorced women
12. Single people

Don't throw 'em away.

Nothing you can own...

"And I realised, there is nothing, anyone can really own"

That's the line that made me post the song. I get more out of it every time I listen to it.

I have a friend who is going through an unbelievably hard time right now; and it just keeps getting worse, like a Peter Sellers movie where nothing goes right (e.g. The Party). I keep thinking that life is just about holding on, that we have no control over what happens, over what other people do. All we have is how we choose to respond to the shit in our lives that falls in droves from the sky.

Oh yeah, and suicide isn't an option, because it just kills more people and keeps the death spiral going. Sucks, don't it?

Life sucks. But at least it's long, right?

Sometimes you're not enough

I just turned in a course reading log; it was terrible and I am ashamed of it.

The log was just supposed to be an honest representation of what was actually read. So I was honest, and it wasn't pretty. This class is at the bottom of my priority list, not because it isn't important, but because it isn't as important as my physical health, my emotional health, the quality of my work, paying my bills, making sure I have all of my medication, making sure I have enough food to eat, getting sufficient exercise, or getting sufficient rest and sleep.

Honestly, this semester, the quality of my school work has plummeted, and at the same time, I have become more dedicated to its completion. Let me explain: When I had the time to do my work, the reasonable daylight time, I did it, and I did it well. Now, I do not have that time. What I do have are middle-of-the-night insomnia, Saturday evenings after 9pm, and Sunday afternoons when I should be resting. This is when I do my schoolwork. So no, I am not a slacker. I am poor and I have an autoimmune disease. The things I do to manage those two tiny pieces of my life are all-consuming, in addition to my work, which takes up most of my time, and gives me no money, whatsoever.

So yeah, I turned in an assignment that I am ashamed of. I am ashamed that I am imperfect. I am ashamed that I am limited. But those things are true for everyone; they are true for you. We are human, and that's all we have. We can't be everything to everyone, or do everything for everyone. We will disappoint people we love, and we will disappoint people we do not love.

I have harbored anxiety about this assignment, not because I cared about the assignment so much as cared about what the teacher would think of my less-than-perfect performance. So today, instead of spending what should be my day of rest on something inherently non-restful, I chose to let go of the shame.

The forgetting

So last night, I watched The Forgotten (2004). It's been on my "want to watch" list since it came out, but I was never feeling in the right mood. It's not worth trying to find a synopsis, or read the reviews. This is an experience film, a thinking film.

This is what I got out of it: We, as humans, live our lives to survive, and sometimes survival means forgetting the suffering and pain that we have experienced. We do this because it's easier. We do this because pain is painful.

But to truly be human, to accept our humanness, is to accept the pain, and not wish it away. It is to feel the full depth of our emotions and feel the horror of waking up each day with the same loss we went to sleep with.

Being human is a painful thing. There is constant loss, and the easiest way to survive is to forget and move on. We forget with alcohol, with drugs, with sex, disassociation, and a myriad of other things. Forgetting is ideal. We pray to forget. There was a time in the past few months when I considered forgetting, when I was encouraged by loved ones to forget. But each time I thought about that prayer, I said [to God], "I'd rather feel the pain, than ever forget the beauty."

I have been told that my "recycling ethic" is about more than surfacey stuff, that in addition to bottles and cans and old clothes, I also refuse to throw away my past. I refuse to stop acknowledging that my past happened, that my life has happened exactly as it has. It isn't pretty, but it's real; and I would rather feel it than ever give it up, because in the giving-up, I throw away parts of myself. And some of these parts are inextricably linked to beauty.

So I choose to not forget, even when it hurts. Because I don't ever want to be without the things that made me, me, no matter how ugly some of them are.