Transitions

This seems to be a big year for transitions. For example, I've moved in with my awesome boyfriend, and I've made some real changes in the way I spend my time and energy. I never thought I'd find a relationship worth compromising for-- but all good relationships require some compromises. I never thought I'd be happy without a solidly planned career path-- but I am. I'm even done with the first fully edited copy of my book. (Of course, it'll go through more changes once I find an agent/publisher.)

And oddly enough, I realized that one of the biggest and toughest transitions we face is death. I know and have known so many amazing and wonderful people-- and in the past few months, so many of them have been faced with the death of a loved one. It's a really tough thing. Hardest for those who remain behind when someone passes on.

Makes me realize that the most important thing we have to give in life is ourselves. Fully, authentically, and gratefully. My loved-ones have always been my number one priority. Today, for instance, I dropped everything and went to visit my wonderful friend Kim, and her 22 year old son, Aaron. He's come home from the hospital for now. And even though the list of things he can't do anymore continues to grow (eat, sleep, swallow, move, talk, breathe...) his sense of humor, and his stubborn determination to LIVE keeps shining through. I am in awe.

It's a difficult thing. Unimaginable. And yet, I know that even good transitions are difficult. Partly because we have to change, but also because we are often afraid of all those unknowns on the other side. I think we Americans are not trained to see change-- to see death-- as anything but fearful and dark. How do we change that? How do we make peace with the irrevocable turning of life's wheel? How do we gain an honest understanding of what we can change, and what we cannot? How do we forgive death from taking away a piece of our hearts?

I don't know. I do know that it has become important to me, over the past few years, to live every day of my life well. To be proud of what I've done, and who I've done it for, and how, and why. Tonight, I'll stay up late working on those emails and work proposals and client projects that I put off today. And it'll be worth it. Because today I spent time with two good friends that I might not get to see tomorrow. I let a mother cry on my shoulder. I participated in the conversation that let her son relive better times, and laugh. Today, I didn't let myself down.

Some people are forced to become adults before they even graduate high school. Some people become adults at thirty, or fifty, or sixty-five. Some people live long lives without ever really having an adult understanding of-- or taking adult responsibility for-- their lives and the lives they touch. It's an interesting transition.

Today, I called my mother on the phone, and cried, so that I could smile and tell funny stories when I visited my friends. And I'll stay up late working so that the other people who are counting on me to do my part and support their professional goals won't be disappointed. I don't want to let them down either.

So here's a toast-- and a hug-- to my friends and family. May you always be one-and-the-same, and may you always know how much I appreciate having you in my life. Whatever else is going on. Because- hey- change is the only constant we have. And the world is such a beautiful place to live.

Draining

Holy Tamoly, what does that cat EAT?! And SHIGHT I hope she burries it well now that she's done digesting it. That REEKS. Like-- tears to my eyes-- REEKS!!!

Excuse me-- that wasn't how I intended to start this post. It's just a sudden distraction on the road of life here. A sudden smelly kitty distraction that I must now take a few moments to mercifully dispose of. Mercifully for my NOSE.

Well, now. Moving right along.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! It has been an interesting year. Full of self-reflection, self-promotion, and self-denial. I moved (twice), I got snowed in (twice), I integrated myself into someone else's household (twice)... I sense a theme.

I've held workshops, had booths at faires and retreats and festivals, gotten published here and there, and created a loyal client base. I've applied for jobs, I've narrowed my activities, I've tried unsuccessfully to sell my (perfectly great) car and reduce my overall mandatory expenditures. I've been to a lot more friendly get-togethers and outright parties than in the past five years combined. I've enjoyed myself more at each of them than at the most lavish and well-organized military gathering I ever attended.

I've gotten serious about writing my book, too. It's time.

I spent the new year with a new friend. Even had a (friendly) kiss at midnight from someone I respect. Stayed out until nearly 3am. When was the last time THAT happened?! Lots of good conversations, lots of opportunities to grow my network and finally feel that I belong here in town. Reconnected with old friends this year, too, and that felt good in its own way. Old friends are important.

As with each of the past few years, I feel that I've grown and changed SO MUCH over what is really a brief span of time. I've learned so much about who I am, what I'm capable of, and what values/opportunities/realities/activities/ beliefs I really care to pursue or maintain in my life. It's been highly rewarding, and very draining.

More recently, as in last night and continuing through this very moment, the term "draining" refers to what we'd like the basement to do. It's flooded. Check that. It's FLOODING in a seeping run-down-the-walls kind of way. My housemate and I took turns going down to wet-vac the puddle every hour or so all night, to minimize the spread of wet. Thing is, between all that snow and the last two days of heavy rain, there just isn't anyplace in the ground for all that water to GO. After staying up late the morning before, staying up to help until after midnight last night, getting up for my turns at 2am and again at 4am, and getting up this morning to start all over again... I'm tired. You might even say, "drained."

And yet my level of worry/stress has gone down dramatically in the last week. That's good. Nobody wants a heart attack at age 30. I guess I'm really hopeful that the new year, new administration, and new possibilities in my own life will bear fruit that is both sustaining and sustainable. That would be a real gift for all of us. May the new year be full of positive changes, and good luck for all. We need it.

Nu Nu Nu

The paint went up on the walls today! Special low VOC paint, in Apple Green. The glass shade on the torchier broke in my car on the way there, too, but that's beside the point. Turns out, somebody has two comfortable chairs sitting in her garage because they need a new home, too. So now they're going to be my client chairs. Awesome, but still not the point. The point is-- tomorrow I finally move into my new office. I'm so excited, I could sing. Loudly. Those old tunes they used to play really loudly at the roller rink on Thursday nights.

:"My-mymymymy Miiiiiyyyyy SHERONA!!... Take me on an- ESSSScaPADE...and Let your Body GOOO with the FLOOO, just do ihhht.... and ROCK around the CLOCK tonight, VOGUE!":

Yeah. THAT excited.

It's the funniest little space, too. The only square corners are where the wall meets the ceiling-- an ugly pock-marked drop-down ceiling with really evil florescent lights in it. Which will soon be covered up by a really nice natural cotton curtain I bought at IKEA. We love IKEA. We also love my new officemate with the two chairs for my clients, and my main officemate whose husband did the painting for me today, and the awesome Apple Green paint. Yes! We do.

So now I'm going to bed. So that tomorrow, when I get up, I'll be ALL SET to move into my NEW OFFICE!!!! YAY!!! (and paint a lot of dark green leaves on the walls and find a way to haul one of my bookshelves from my storage unit to my office and find all my packed books about alternative healing that are somewhere in that storage unit-- hopefully in the same place as my flannel sheets are packed. I'd really like to find a second set of sheets for my bed here sometime.) YAY!!

Walking Into the World

I took a walk this morning. The air was heavy with moisture (some people might have said there was even a light drizzle going on), and fresh with green growing things. Flowers are blooming, and the bees are still busy about their work. It was a perfect day for a walk, and I felt right, being the one walking. Not many people come out to breathe deeply and enjoy the day when "it looks like rain." All the better for me!

Here we are, only a few weeks from the Summer Solstice, and enjoying some really energetic thunder storms, 60* weather, and lush rain. It's a funny thing, really. Midsummer is traditionally celebrated (all over the world) by lighting a bonfire, and dancing around (and often over) it. It is as though whole communities are celebrating the world's hearth-- the center of life on our planet, just as the kitchen hearth is the center of life in the home. (second only to the computer, these days)

It is a time for community, for slow conversation on front porches and wild laughter around the campfire. A time to celebrate the harvest and bounty that the sun brings forth from the Earth, to take note of the longest day of the year-- when the sun just seems to hang in the sky for hours, and nothing that comes after will be quite as bright. I realize again how much I look forward to having my own hearth-- my own kitchen, my own gathering place, my own bounty and pantry and security of belonging and shelter against the coming cold of winter.

I know I will manifest these things in my life-- I will be offered and accept a wonderful job. I will find a sturdy place to live (with a kitchen and space for friends to visit me) in the town where I work. I will find ways to participate in my new chosen community, and I will celebrate the changing seasons with my own food and my own traditions. I will finally have a livable income, with money left over for future plans and unforeseen needs. I will have a foundation for my new life to grow from. I know I will. But... I want it now. I'm learning to believe that I belong in the world, that I have the right to work for a living and to enjoy my time here. I'm learning to believe that something wonderful will come of all my hard work. I've been gathering my tools, working hard, and making my plans for nearly three years. I'm tired. I want more than hope to keep me warm.

Midsummer is coming. Maybe it will bring me a more concrete opportunity to walk into the world, and enjoy the rich scent of wood smoke in the air. (from a bonfire, or a hearth fire, or a cooking fire, that is) In the meantime, I'm meditating on abundance, taking long walks, and sending out applications for employment. I think I've counted three so far this week, and about five from the week before. I don't know how to get any more concrete than that.

Goodbye, Faithful

Yesterday I cleaned out my old car, and said good-bye. I really wished I had my camera with me so I could take some memory pictures, but I didn't have it. Don't know if you ever forget what a crashed vehicle looks like once you crawl out of it anyway, really. It was harder than I expected to say goodbye.

There was a lot more stuff in my car than I expected, too. And I kept remembering just one more little hidden pocket of STUFF that needed to be cleaned out before I was really done. I realized as I was driving away that I've had that particular vehicle during the toughest and longest transition of my life. That it was my go-to resource during that time period. That car always worked. Whatever I needed always fit into it. I could be alone when I drove it, and anything I put inside would still be there when I came back. That car always got me where I was going, and it didn't aggravate my old injuries on the way. I always felt safe in it, and I used it to escape-- often.

I first purchased her while my then-husband was deployed in Iraq. I got tired of being stuck at home every time it snowed, so my new car had AWD among the other things it gave me. I also bought it at a time when I was finally coming to the realization that my marriage was never going to get better, and that once he came home safely, I was probably going to say goodbye. For both our sakes. I had a lot of emotional conversations with friends while driving her, since I couldn't talk on the phone much when my then-husband was home. Some of those same friends packed her to the hilt-- twice-- during the three hours I had to move out of my soon-to-be-ex's apartment when the time finally came to go.

She moved me from there to a friend's spare room, from there to another state, and into three different apartments in the year after my marriage ended. I was sitting in the driver's seat when I got my acceptance letter for the MLS program I wanted, and I drove her to that horrid job at the office for the criminally insane. After that, I drove her back and forth (an hour each way) to my subsequent nanny job-- for a year while I finished school.

The strange, poetic, full-circle part of it all is that my ex just made his final alimony payment ever last month, and I just graduated from school so I can have a career and support myself independently this month... I'm finally starting the next phase of my life. The transition from married to me is basically over. Finally. My car helped me through the whole get-independent process, start to finish. And within a few days of that process ending, my get-through-it car ended, too.

I guess it's a graduation of sorts. No more crutches. No more dependencies and old habits. No more reminders of my past life. No more reliable blue car with the "not interested" bumper sticker and the big red frog on the back. That still hurts to think about, though. No more Army stickers and pit-bull nose-prints in the windows. No more maps for all the military towns we lived in, either. No more reminders of all the things I didn't accomplish during my marriage.

Maybe this isn't dread in my tummy. ...maybe it's PMS... Or maybe it's just an empty spot where the past used to be. You never know. PMS can do some pretty drastic things to your tummy, let me tell you! Maybe I just need to give myself time to grieve the dreams and crutches (and the car) that I lost-- and remember all the great hopes and possibilities and personal goals I've replaced them with. My life now is so much better and brighter than I could ever have imagined it to be three or four years ago-- back when my transition to independence started.

I have friends who love my art, and don't care who I talk to on the phone. I have friends (well, one, anyway) who get as excited as I do over Pirate Music, and nobody in my new life uses my quirks as an excuse to put me down. I have friends to laugh with, friends to cry with, and I have places in my life where it's okay to enjoy being alone. I can watch Banger Sisters for the 37th time, and nobody comments on how well Goldie Hawn's boobs have held up over the years. Nobody gets mad at me for wanting to see a movie that many times, plus one more. Nobody gets bored half-way through and leaves to go play video games instead of cuddling with me on the sofa.

I can put yeast on my popcorn, and ice cream in the freezer. I can eat nacho chips and baked garlic on toast, with brie and basil on the side. I can sing silly children's songs and stand on one foot while I do the dishes (old habit, don't ask). I can get the urge to blog about the dread in my tummy at midnight, and jump out of bed to do it, knowing I'm not going to be waken at 4am to help find somebody else's special bullet-proof glasses. And two matching boot-top twisties. And to frantically sew the new patches on the other side of their only clean BDU shirt-- at JUST THE RIGHT ANGLE-- before my alarm goes off at 7am-- because he was too lazy to do it himself the night before.

I don't feel guilty every time I park under the covered parking, and every time I go out to lunch with a friend. Nobody makes me feel stupid for wanting safety bars in the windows and that extra lock mechanism on the front door. Nobody tells me what to wear (tho I'm really glad some of my friends are willing to give me opinions when I ask-- I admit to needing help from time to time), and I actually like coming home at night. To my home.

It's a good life. And very different from the one I used to live. With all the distance driving I do, and the limited amount of buying big stuff, no dog, and not too many friends without cars these days either-- the things I need in a vehicle have changed. I guess it makes sense that the vehicle itself might change, too. Now, I just have to get used to driving it. Darn.

The Ono Fish

Ummm... so, yeah, it was my birthday yesterday. My goal was to spend a few hours in meditation, thinking about who I am and what I'm doing. It felt like an appropriate time to be doing that. Instead, what seems to have happened, is that I was aware of the way I spent my time during the day. I really thought about what I'm doing with my life in a more "here and now" sense-- because "what I'm doing with my life" isn't about my goals-- it's about each day lived.

And I realized that I get to read books to little kids who smile at me and like to hold conversations with me-- and who are already learning (at the age of 2) how cool the "libbery" can be. I'm very proud of that. I feel it's time well-spent, for all my complaining about the long hours. I realized that filling and emptying the dishwasher is a fact of life, and I posted a quote from one of my favorite blogs--

"Cleaning isn't just an obligation. It's also a way to honor your life, a way to show yourself you're worth that much effort. ...I'm working on that one."

It made me stop and think about all the ways you can honor your life, and how I'm not doing any of them right now. And I decided that I actually am worth the effort, and I actually do want to honor my life. And if that means putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher every day, then I can do that. And if that means running the a/c for a few minutes so I can brew a cup of tea on a hot day, then I can do that.

And if that means taking the time to finally look up the name/location of a women's shelter so I can donate the rest of the stuff I've decided to get rid of to them instead of Goodwill, and TAKING THE TIME TO DROP THE STUFF OFF THERE, then I can do that, too. I want the file cabinet out of my entry way. I deserve to walk into my apartment without running into things, tripping on things, or knocking things over.

And then I went to one of my favorite stores to meet my family for dinner. I found out that my all-time favorite candle that only they carry and that lasts 50 hours, and has never dripped and made a wax puddle on my floor or my table, and that doesn't smoke, and doesn't tip over, and is just PERFECT because it only costs $5... well, they've discontinued making it. But the nice helper-lady looked at other stores and found 15 of them for me at other stores, and they're being shipped to my home. I figured if this is my last chance to get ahold of my favorite candle, I'm not messing around. Of all the candles I've ever bought, this is the one I keep lighting.

And dinner with my mom, papa, and aunt was great. I had the opportunity to realize that where I come from is a part of who I am. And I finally had a group of people who all go whole-hog with Ottohumor and there was no one there to roll their eyes and be disgusted with us for deciding that hero-ono fish was a super hero who changed his mind, fell (o-no!), and sorta splatted into the water... well, you get the picture. It was fun to be a family for a bit.

And then I got home and had time for myself. That was interesting, too. I was so tired after working ten hours and having quality social time for two hours after that... the one thing that really rose out of my quiet time is that I'm about to be done with school. I'm about to emerge into the world of self-supporting professionals. And in many ways, it will be a rebirth for me. A whole new start in the world, with new goals and new priorities and new lessons to learn. I'm really looking forward to that.

For now, though, I'm going to move through my day with joy, and spend time with good friends. I can't think of a better gift to start my new year than that.

August

Somebody remind me-- what was the song the Munchkins sang when the Wicked Witch of the West was defeated? Maybe I can modify that to sing about the flies that are no longer swarming my home...

August should be an interesting month. I've started out by decisively winning the fight against the flies (I'm still on alert in case of future attempts by the enemy, however)-- and my kitchen remains clean and tidy thus far. I've got finals going on. I've got to renew my passport in person, having noticed that the one I found is probably not the most recent one, and I've got a looming deadline for that. I also hope to finish once and for all getting all my legal documents to reflect my divorced status and my new legal last name. A few of the larger corporations seem to have regressed in that field... I start my next internship mid August. And, I start my last semester of classes on the 27th. This means that by the end of the year, I'll have a degree in my hand, and an endless horizon before me.

This is also the month that I turn 29. I've asked people to celebrate with me at fun but expensive restaurants so that I can spend that time celebrating the people in my life that help to make it such a great experience for me (and thus, no gifts but their presence are needed!). August is when we celebrate fire and the harvest and large cats and the ocean and stories. Lots of stories. This month I'm finally going to sort through the last few piles of what-not remaining from my big home-cleaning purge of Summer Semester, too. And I've sent out my first honest to gosh job application this month. With more to follow, I'm sure.

I was recently talking with a good friend, and realized that according to Chakra reckoning, age 29 is the first year of the fifth section of my life (they count in groups of seven)-- and it is the time when I focus on communication (fifth chakra is throat). Since it's the first year in that set of seven, it will probably also be about grounding, and this makes sense to me. I'm hoping to ground myself in a good first librarian job, a good place to live for a while, and a budget that actually can fit my income without forcing me to live on the streets. All of these things require good communication. =) Especially being a children's librarian. And keeping in close contact with my good friends and family from wherever I end up working.

So, HELLO AUGUST! I'm excited about you. And... I'm going to get back to work on my finals now. The old semester ain't over yet.

A Beautiful Heart

I went to the coast today, and met two really wonderful ladies. I also had a really REALLY yummy marrionberry scone, picked up some more driftwood to dry for my patio bonfires, and almost but not quite ran out of gas on the way home. Luckily, I realized it was going to happen, and did NOT start back into the mountains until after I found myself a gas station and filled 'er up. I'm home safe now, just in case you were worried.

By the way, if you are uncomfortable with what lies behind reality, you may not want to read the rest of today's blog. I go there. And it's beautiful. I usually try not to go there in my blog... but today was special, and you'll just have to deal. Whether you believe that energy is a scientific phenomenon based on simple magnetic properties of the earth and the moon, a reflection of God's light in each of us, a spiritual force, that it is of the great Mother Earth and the Moon Goddess herself, or something else entirely, we each have moments in our lives where we just have to accept what occurs, and say "thank you." Both of the women I met today fall into this category, and I'm going to tell you about them. Backwards.

The second woman that I met at the coast today has a little shop in a corner of a building so NOT on the main path that I really had to look at the door for a while to decide if it was the FRONT door or not. It was. In fact, it was the only door. I only even saw that door because I was taking a short-cut behind other buildings toward a sign I'd seen earlier in the day for a bead store. This, it turns out, was not the bead store... I never made it to the bead store, and I'm still glad that I followed the sign. After staring at the door for a while, I went into the shop, to be confronted with a little of everything that I love and am looking longingly at these days.

It was very overwhelming at first. I truly think that I could have had anything in my mind that I REALLY NEEDED TO FIND at that moment, and it would have somehow manifested in that little shop. There were rings, beads, scarfs, incense burners, tarot cards, little statues, big statues, fixings, containers, books, more scarfs, gorgeous jewelry, semi-precious pendants, amazing pieces of art-- and over in one dark corner were bits and remnants of all the things I'd have LOVED to find there as a child... That corner is obviously somewhat neglected now. There is even another half of the store that I never made it into. And this was a small store.

After I'd been standing by the front door staring at a rack of five different kinds of birth-sign reading cards (the star signs we all know from our horoscope in the paper, the Chinese animals, the Egyptian goddesses, African fortunes, and more), a woman appeared. She is probably in her sixties, and though she doesn't look old, her hair is pure white, and she looks like she knows a hell of a lot. I didn't really have much conversation with this wise woman, but I was thrilled to find that she is every bit as interesting as her choice of what to have for sale in her shop. And somehow, the prices were all ones I could handle, too... just not all at once. I'm definitely going back to that store the next time I go to that part of the coast. First off, I want to see if the store (and the owner) actually exists outside of my mind, and more-- I want to explore the second half of the shop! I am now the proud owner of a Healing Woman Tarot deck, and a beautiful spring green 100% cotton sari scarf, shot with silver threads, from India. I also feel like I just met a manifestation of the Goddess, and that the store existed in that moment, just for me. Since I'm quite happy about that interpretation of events, I didn't ask too many questions, and I didn't look behind me when I walked away. I just said "thank you," as I closed the door.

A little background for the first part of the second story:
My Aunt Jacque, mom's oldest sister, was a very special person. She was a truly spiritual being by the time I knew her. She got that way, in large part, by remembering to breathe. She became an ordained and practicing Presbyterian Minister somewhere along the way. She also worked with healing energy, cleansed auras, used essential oils medicinally, met with the Dali Lama, traveled all over the world, and loved unconditionally. She just KNEW things. She knew when to watch Spring unfold-- that one magical day each year when the leaves appear and the buds turn green or pink or gold. She knew unusual facts about celebrities-- and she wasn't someone to sit down and read a People Magazine. She knew what essential oils your body needed to get healthy, and she often knew what ailed you. She knew how to listen, and how to tell a good story.

She was never on time. She didn't actually have a sense of time as we know it... and she was happier that way, I think. She didn't really know how to drive either, but she made her way around Chicago without getting into accidents, for years. I think she had a bit of divine intervention on that one. You'd agree if you'd ever spent time with her in the car. I suspect she is the person who taught my mom to drive, actually. She'd be looking in the rear view mirror (or be half-turned in the driver seat, and looking at you directly) to maintain eye contact with you as she told a story-- and the car would be slowly swerving back and forth across the full width of whatever road she happened to be on. But we never crashed, never drove off the road, never hit another car... She also never knew how to get where she was going, but she usually got there anyway. I take a surprising amount of encouragement from this one little fact. That someone this gifted and internally beautiful might not really have known how to get where she was going-- and that she still got there in the end... maybe I will, too.

(This also ties nicely into my reality of following directions while driving. You see, I have a tradition. No matter how hard I try, I can't break it. The tradition is that you will give me driving directions over the phone, and I will write them down in detail, and with clear organization, so that I can follow them later when I'm driving... and then I will not look at those directions again until I am on my way to visit you, and realize that I've left those great directions at home. And I somehow-- often with a few phone calls for help if it's a long way to go-- manage to get to where I was going anyway. I love that!)

She started her own school of healing, called Crossroads, ran her own business, produced a CD of meditation techniques, faught off breast cancer at least three times, and started writing her own book of spirituality as well, before she died. She even knew how to decide when she would die-- noon on Christmas Day. And she always knew what I needed from her to make things okay again... Jacque is a wise woman I've turned to for love, support, and better understanding throughout my lifetime. I tell you this now, because it is pertinent to my meeting with the first woman of today.

The first woman I met today is a clairvoyant. A really brave person who has overcome a lot of fear in her life. I met her by accident a while back, and have exchanged maybe two words with her since then. Today, I asked her to do a reading for me. She sat me down and asked me if I had any questions or expectations, and I told her I just wanted to see what came up. I think some of the best gifts are the ones we don't ask for, so to me it was an opportunity to learn what I may not even KNOW I need to know.

She looked at me and told me that I have a very strong creative bent to my life. That my creative talents are as much or as little as I need them to be, because I've really tapped into them fully of late, and because my will is so strong that I shape them to my liking. She said I'm well-grounded now, and I've spent time building a strong foundation lately, but that now I'm moving forward with my creativity, my skills, and my plans for balance and security-- and I'm going in the right direction with all of it. Then she opened her eyes and said I have a beautiful heart. She was a bit in awe of all that she'd seen me overcome in the past year, and of all the protection and sunshine that surround me now and for the future. She says it's because I'm acting from my heart now, and I have such a great heart. (This may be about when I started crying... I can't think of a better compliment-- a better place to work from-- than having a beautiful heart!)

Much to my surprise, it is not just my Aunt Jacque that she saw watching over me of late, but also my Grandfather Elliott. It makes sense, and I'm glad to know that now. Because this is what she does, just like Jacque did what she did, this gifted woman spoke with my angels, and she looked into my "history book of the soul" that the angels keep for each of us, and discovered that there are two volumes for mine. The reference material from my whole life and lives leading up to about a year ago, and the new volume I've been writing since that time. I've gone through such a rebirth that it is as if I am a different person.

She was actually quite surprised to realize that the things she saw in the past, and the things she saw in the present/future are for the same person! (I guess this reading, like many other first meetings I've had with some of the great women in my life, was a great new experience for her. I'm so glad about that! Sometimes, my desire to be different-- to be outstanding-- surprises me. Especially since I'm okay with buying my clothes off the rack at Fred Meyer or some other chain store half the time.) She told me that my strength is my own (I'd really been wondering when whatever was giving me the strength to do all this would go away again, so that was SUCH a relief to know it's actually mine!), and that it has come from the decisions I made, and the efforts I've put out in the past year. She was just thrilled about the future path that she sees for me, too. Whatever it is, she believes I am going about it just at the right speed, and in the right manner. And she was asked to let me know that the people I need in my life will be there waiting for me when I need them.

I've never had my fortune read, and beyond Aunt Jacque, I haven't really had a lot of energy work or other alternative medicine done either... but since Jacque's death, I've felt like my sense of direction has been harder and harder to find... (I had a compass tattooed on my back a few days after she died, come to think of it) and in some ways, that was true... but not because of Jacque. Today, I learned some great visualization techniques to help me deal with my fears, and I learned that it is okay to acknowledge my struggles, and to take credit for my successes and for my inner strength in working to succeed and be joyful. Additionally, I found a great alternative to calamine lotion for dealing with my "I don't want to date yet, but flirting is fun" itch... and I made a good friend. I believe that there is energy out there, and that there is a font of universal knowledge waiting to be tapped into. I believe that people like my Aunt Jacque and the clairvoyant woman I met today are tapped into that knowledge in some way... and so for me, it is easy to put aside my scientific mind, and stop assuming that life is just random chance occurring over and over again... and to say "thank you" for the gifts I've received today.

So... speaking of people appearing in my life when I need them, have I told you about the blog I'm going to participate in writing for the LibraryJournal magazine? At the ALA Midwinter Meeting back in January, a woman I'd never seen before sat down to rest at my small table (two rickety chairs, about 20 newspapers, my lunch, and a bunch of crumbs) outside a really busy Starbucks one day. Neither one of us was drinking coffee. She ended up asking me a bunch of questions about being an online MLS student. She was also interested in the fact that I have my own blog. (You're reading it.) It turns out that she is the Editor-in-Chief of the LibraryJournal, and she has been thinking about starting a library student blog in her journal's online component-- and I may just be lucky enough to come along for the ride now that we've met!

Yeah. Really happened. Random woman on the street... just when I was trying to network and thinking about looking for opportunities to publish my work (if I have any library-related work worth publishing at this point) so that I could make myself more appealing for library jobs down the line...

I could tell you a lot of other stories from my life just like this-- stories where I meet a stranger, and gain an opportunity or learn a lesson or hear a story that changes the way I look at life-- changes my future plans for the better. It isn't really coincidence. Remember that time you were traveling... stuck in an airport you'd never been to before, and in some part of the country you never visit? Remember how you bumped into someone from your elementary school that you always wondered about, or your old next-door neighbor with those great dogs, or the perfect character for your next book, and the name is even perfect? "Small world!" you said... and all the angels and fairies and scientists and totem animals just laughed from where they were watching over your progress through your life... and then, as you boarded the airplane and finally headed out to your next destination, you thought to whisper a "thank you" into the air. Coincidence. Totally.

Mysckeallahnieausse

Okay. It's time. If I don't blog soon, I might forget how. And, as we all know, the only two serious topics in this life are blogs, and folksongs. ...well... and humongous giant clams... Seriously. They were a threat to America at one time. But for the life of me-- I have no idea what to write about. If you make a suggestion before I post this, I might just take you up on it.
think think think
Well... maybe I'll tell you about the driftwood I meant to write about a while back, but ended up talking about how sweet and loving and good I am instead. That sounds promising. There's more to say about it now, anyway. As of 7:45pm, that is. When the fire on my back patio finally went out. Some serious, some ridiculous, some suspicious. About what I usually write. Okay. I'll DO it! (Too late for YOU! You'll just have to make a suggestion some other time, possibly sailing around for hours until you find a harbor. Inconceivable, you say? I do not think him is what you think him is. And I am NO left handed! It's true. Ask Arlo Guthrie.)

Driftwood. I've never partaken of a fire on the beach. Even though I lived on the beach for seven years (well, two blocks back, where the mortgage was cheaper). Even though my high school senior skip day was spent (by everyone but me and a few other loos-- err... individuals) on the beach with driftwood fires and a couple of unexplained kegs. Even though my dad has always kept on hand a ridiculous amount of perfectly-sized firewood. Just in case. Even though I eventually married an Eagle Scout (famous last words: "Don't worry! I'm an Eagle Scout." As if that somehow means you know how to take on an angry 700 lb black bear and her two cubs-- who are standing between us and our only water supply... in the middle of Bear Island... in Alaska... in dirty underwear and a pair of Army Boots... with a rusty pop can full of change in one hand to use as a rattle. But that is a story for another time.) who really REALLY thought having sex on the beach, by firelight, in the middle of winter--or any other time we happened to be on the beach-- with no blanket under us, and the tide coming in... would be "romantic." (It didn't happen. The word that came to my mind was "riiiiight.") Even though I have often walked by the charred remains of driftwood fires along the beach, smelled the last bit of smoke drifting up from it... and known it was a magical scent. I have never actually experienced a driftwood fire. Until today.

You see, way back when I drove over the mountains and through the snow to the beach... I brought about six inches of sand (intentionally, no less) and a whole bunch of baby bits of driftwood home with me. I spent two weeks drying that wood in front of a heating vent in my living room. (My cat thought I was crazy. She thinks that a lot. That's why she's not allowed to leave the house anymore. She might tell someone about what goes on in here.) I carefully put the sand into the metal container I'd found so nothing would overheat, melt, or burn down. I bought baby charcoal to help the driftwood catch fire. And then I spent 45 minutes in 29* weather getting smoked out as I hunched beside my little tiny pile of three pieces of driftwood and some kleenex (I don't get a newspaper)... as they all turned into a sad pile of smoking coals, and never bothered to flame at all, (except for the kleenex, which obviously has more chemicals in it than I'd realized, at least one of which is a fire retardant... though there was that one time with the kleenex and the flaming pizza box...) even though I hyperventilated because I blew on them there sad smoking coals for 15 of those 45 minutes-- straight.

sigh

The original plan was to have a driftwood fire on my back patio during my Open House. THAT would have been somewhat romantic and all together cool. This was the dry run. But, no. So I went to the store. One of those stores that actually does have a little of everything. Want diapers? They have that. Want depends? They have that, too. Want foot powder? Okay, but it's an off-brand. Want ice cream? Yup. 3 flavors. Found the "outdoors" section. (Right there next to the big "Get Your Fishing License Here-- So you don't get arrested for telling me about the one that got away!" sign.) There in the middle of the "outdoors" section, they had magical non-smoking wood chips that are guaranteed --in two different languages-- to start your fire. That's a quote, by the way. I laughed all the way to the cash register. I never did find a list of ingredients on the package, but I honestly don't want to know, anyway. Because then I might feel guilty for using them. The good news is they actually did light my fire. My fire is LIT!

I actually got to watch (very closely, with a bucket of water at my feet, because this was my patio, after all, and no where near the beach, even though it was technically taking place on six inches of honest-to-god beach sand... and... you know... something might happen...) as three other miniature pieces of driftwood from my collection burst into FLAME and became a real HONEST TO GOSH DRIFTWOOD FIRE for a whole 30 minutes!!! It was definitely a highlight in my life.

So... if you ever wanna light MY fire... wear eau-de-driftwood-smoke behind your knees. Ahem-- ears. I meant ears.

Okay, and for those of you who haven't started laughing yet... The title of this blob is pronounced "miscellaneous." I tried to spell giant with a J. I accidentally put a silent B on the end of "clambs." And I refrained from saying, "Dagm you, Salazar!!" at least twice. Yes. It's a quote from the "Charlie's Angels" movie with Lucy Liu in it. Your Welcome.

Abundance

There is a book, "Something More," by Sarah Ban Breathnach. The sub-title is "Excavating Your Authentic Self." I stumbled upon this book in my local public library-- the smaller branch-- just as I was creating my first home alone and trying to understand who I am, now that I am divorced.

I'd just moved to a new state, started a new job, and was trying to piece together bits of my old life, and bits of my new one into something that felt whole... The only certainty was that I didn't really know what "whole" looked like... I just knew there had to be something more than work and money and dating/marriage. I'd had all that, and it wasn't... it just wasn't. And here was this book... talking about Abundance and Authenticity. "Human beings," she says, "seem to be divided into two subspecies-- the resigned, who live in quiet desperation, and the exhausted, who exist in restless agitation." I recognized myself, and one of my good friends who had not left her bad marriage, in these descriptions. She was resigned. I was exhausted-and-restless. "I wish I'd known from the beginning that I was born a strong woman. ...I've spent so much of my life cowering." YES, I thought. I keep learning the difficult lesson that I am strong, but I don't ever acknowledge it or use that strength toward anything but survival. I keep cowering and reacting, instead of standing tall in my own shoes, and ACTING! ...I bought the book.

It's been almost exactly a year since I moved out on my own. A year since I realized that if I didn't act, I might not live. In fact, I wasn't living. I was cowering, and reacting, and appeasing. Constantly. And none of my life was actually about me. I decided that I wanted my life to be about me, and about JOY... so I acted. I have been sad, and lonely, and scared many times since then... but they have been passing moods. (And, to be honest, I felt that way a lot more while I was married!) Mostly, I have been active, and joyfully exploring my world-- MY WORLD! This world that is full of beauty, and color, and opportunities, and friends.

I just had my first official House Party today. It was a "New Beginnings" Open House, to celebrate the new year, and my first year of LIVING! I invited a LOT of people to it, and quite a few of them came, which was very nice indeed. Many of them surprised me by bringing fun and thoughtful gifts, too. I felt very loved. And that, my dears, is what this is all about.

Hosting this party also gave me a chance to look around at the people I call friends, and realize that I have turned them into my family. No matter what those popular phrases say about not picking your family-- you CAN. You just can't pick your relatives. For me, there is actually quite a bit of overlap, but the funny part is that the vast majority of friends I have are all around the age of 60 or so. If I was in my 40's or 50's, maybe that wouldn't be worth mentioning-- but the reality is that I'm not even in my 30's yet! Somehow, these warm, confident, intelligent, self-aware people make more sense to me than the other college kids ever did.

I really enjoy spending time with people who love and accept me for who I am, too-- and who see that person (me) as worthwhile. I feel that I am worthwhile, and it is wonderful to have that reflected back at me by the people I give my time and energy to. The people who matter in my life. I also enjoy spending time with people who know who they are (more or less), and aren't afraid to talk about themselves and about life openly and with passion-- and intelligence!! I find that most people my age aren't really like that yet-- or at least, if they are, it's usually with people they've known their whole lives. Safe people.

And I do have some very very good friends my own age. About half of them even live in the same state as me, now, and of those, about half were able to make it to my Open House today. So as I looked around the room, I saw my parents, my aunt and uncle, and a whole lot of other neat people with a lot of life under their belts... who I have known (or feel that I've known) for a very long time, and who have loved me for at least that long. What a wonderful celebration of life! What a wonderful beginning. What wonderful PEOPLE!

I had two requests of everyone who came to my house today. One, EAT! and two, meditate on Abundance, and create an intention for how you will add to the abundance in your life this year. I feel very strongly about Abundance.

It's not a New Year's Resolution, nothing so shallow. It's a way of filling personal preferences with determination-- self-determination. More, I have myself been meditating on abundance, and realizing how full my life is of the things I most care to have these days-- good friends, good food, good books, good times, good plans... I have a wonderful home that I love returning to each night, and spending time in when I'm not away. I have food I like in the fridge. I have a few plants on the back patio that seem destined to live for a while longer. (And nobody randomly accusing me of being a plant-killer.) I have time to indulge my creative pursuits-- and people to share those passions with-- and I have a truly wonderful cat-companion, as well. I wanted to share this awareness of the abundance we have, and can bring to ourselves, with the people who helped me to reach toward it.

My cat truly is my companion, by the way, for all the time I spend with my many friends. She keeps my feet warm in the winter (very important to those of us with reptilian ancestry), she provides a wide variety of entertaining activities and opinions. (Currently, she has taken command of an end table in the living room. Anything placed on it WILL BE REMOVED-- when no one is watching. I accidentally set a full waterbottle on there once. Full waterbottles are LOUD when they hit the floor!!) She shares her affection, her soft fur, and her time with me, and she loves me back. Truly. I'll be sitting on the recliner, scritching her tummy, and listening to her purr... and she will reach one front paw up, and pat me on the chin or the nose. I love that! She knows I am giving her love like that, so she is giving ME love in kind. She runs to greet me when I come home from work every day, too, and gives me extra attention with few demands if she realizes I've had a particularly difficult day. She's even figured out that study time is not lap-time. At least for the first few hours... And all bets are off if her food dish is running low... but I can live with rules like that. Straightforward and obvious ones.

But, back to Abundance. I get to learn new things, I get to explore new ideas. I get to wake up each day knowing the life I lead has been created entirely by my decisions and with my best interests in mind. There is beautiful art on my walls, and there are great books in my living room. Nobody is yelling at me or telling me that all I've added to their lives is problems. I'm not responsible for the happiness of anyone but myself (and my cat)... and yet, there are also people in my life who welcome my involvement, and my insights. This is a good life. A joyful, abundant life. And it's mine. I wanted to share a piece of that opportunity with everyone who has contributed to the raging success of my own New Beginning. Thank you.

To quote Ms. Breathnach, "I hope your search for Something More is just that-- more bountiful, more exciting, more exhilarating, more joyous, more miraculous than any personal journey you've ever been on before. Blessings on your courage. Your buried treasure lies within."

The Silly Side

I'm still rehashing the ALA Midwinter Meeting. It was a big event, and a lot happened in a very short time. My last blog was about the business side of library-world. This blog? It's all about the Silly Side!

So... Did I mention that the water in my hotel got turned off three times in about 30 hours-- including all of Sunday? Apparently, the first time was because a leak happened-- a big leak. Then the plumber reconnected the lines BACKWARDS, so hot was cold and cold was hot. The pipes couldn't handle the change, so there was either cold water, or really random scalding hot water-- our random hot water was contained entirely in the toilet bowl. I actually am thinking about patenting the idea-- it was such a nice touch to not suffer from cold-toilet-seat-shock in the middle of the night! Silly... but oh-so-practical!

And... Did I mention that my friend and I are seriously discussing sending in a plea for help to Stacy and Clinton from TLC's What Not To Wear? Seriously. These people need help. The top three silly librarian-sightings so far were:
-Tiny pink shirt-- too small for wearer-- topping long mid-calf-length black skirt (complete with black lace ruffle and three different colors of ribbon below the knee), completed by a pair of very white tennis shoes, and white socks.
-Paisley pink shirt, perfectly clashing in color, tone, and style with a knee-length plaid skirt consisting of dark green and maroon, with nice white tennis shoes and "hip" shaved-short-in-spots haircut.
-Large hooded sweatshirt with screen-print fat cat on front, located above fuzzy stretch pants that were too small for the ample wearer. Apparently, this librarian gets the prize for most inappropriate outfit at the business-casual event of ALA Midwinter Meeting.

Also, so far, the overcrowded and earthy Rose Bar (lesbian-identified hangout) had BY FAR the better food and most excellent waitress of any other place we've tried to grab dinner so far. I tell you, there are so many times in my life when I wish I weren't straight! There are some gorgeous, intelligent, hilarious and generous women out there. I hope you are lucky enough to meet them, too. How silly is it to get hit on by one or two of them, and not be able to reciprocate??

The final and most tiring silliness is the fact that most of these librarians are great friends, and only see each other in person at the ALA meetings-- twice a year or so. Therefore, all the inter-dating, feuding, laughing, drinking, and general drama for the year occurs in a 48-hour period of time! O-my-gawd, it is INTENSE, and very very silly. That was definitely one thing I chose NOT to volunteer for this time around. Although, I still got most of it vicariously through my best friend. It's the first time we've seen each other in about two years, and we roomed together. Talk about your mega-girl-talk! Even on the nights we got back to the hotel before midnight, we stayed up several hours talking and trying to understand the dramas in which she plays a part. I tell you, I have EARNED a good long rest. (By the way, did I mention that the first meetings of the day begin between 7-8am, so we had to be up, professional in appearance, and functional in mind about five or six hours after we finally went to sleep each night! Silly Silly Silly.)

I Should Probably Sign Up

I attended the American Library Association Midwinter Meeting this weekend. It's a huge and rather confused event, with all kinds of great information, ways to get involved in "library world," resources, discussion groups, vendors... and that's not to mention all the official meetings that take place every day!

Going into this, I was fairly certain that I wanted to work toward becoming a Public Librarian, and work in the Reference Department, or in the Children's Library. Leaving the conference, I am fairly certain that I want to be an Academic Library Collection Developer, with subject-specific reference desk duties, and hopefully several other hats as well. Variety is important. And it's hard to know what I want to be when I grow up--- it all seems so very far away at times! I'm fairly certain I'll have it figured out by the time I graduate next winter.

I think the biggest challenge for me has been figuring out what events to attend at the conference. It's not just that there are about fifty-plus events for every two-hour time block... added into that are the other 30+ events that are NOT PRINTED IN THE MEETING GUIDE BOOK! Those are usually the interesting ones, anyway, and they've been published on internal listservs instead of on the general information systems. Add to that the number of events which have been rescheduled or relocated, and you have a lot of frantic librarians with very sore feet! To give you an idea of the size of this-- the smaller of the two annual ALA meetings-- I have taken a look at our map of Seattle. There are events regularly taking place at over five hotels in downtown Seattle. There are at least two other meeting locations beyond this, and it is all centered around the Washington Conference and Trade Center-- which we seem to have more or less taken over for the duration. If you are a librarian, and you've never gone-- you should probably sign up.

So far, I've attended several meetings that I really learned from, spoken individually with many practicing librarians and other individuals in library-world who have aided my understanding and awareness of mass opportunities in library-world, and managed to become active in several groups that I'm not sure I signed up for originally... but I will do as soon as I get home, where I left my ALA membership password. Oops.

Knowing that my experiences are probably being filmed for the sitcom of my life (see previous blogs), I have really enjoyed the insane hilarity that pervades much of the Midwinter Meeting. I've also come to appreciate that a majority of librarians have a really sharp sense of humor. I think the three most common denominators among the librarians I've met and worked with here are
-Sharp Sense of Humor (I know, I mentioned that already)
-Sharply Intelligent (Luckily, most also have people-skills...)
-Distinct Desire to Help People (Not always in that order.)

For these reasons, and many more, I am so relieved to find myself in library-world for the weekend. I think I will be very happy to park my professional career on the library-world escalator once I finish my schooling. These people just make sense to me. Even when I don't understand what the heck they are saying. If you've ever interacted with the military or the government on a long-term project, you know how many acronyms these hard-working people can come up with! You might find yourself talking to a CO about the PT requirements for PJs, and needing that info PDQ, before the next DONSA!

Well, impossible as I'd have said this was a year ago, Librarians Have MORE acronyms than both these organizations, put together! And committees... you like committees? You have an idea-- I guarantee we have a committee for that-- plus committees to oversee implementation, advertising, research, publication, collaboration, confirmation, intimidation, and whatever other -ations you can think of in relation to the said "idea!" Yes. We are organized.
We are hella organized. Dangerously so, you might say.

Personally, I attended a meeting of the ALA ACRL's WSS Research Committee, located in the WCC today. I even know what those mean. I also have a mandate to make sure I'm actually ON the ALA'a ACRL listserv, as I'm now responsible for beginning research on an upcoming project, and I need to double-check that I've signed up for the other group whose meeting I particularly enjoyed attending. It has to do with Collection Development in Academic Libraries-- the acronym escapes me...

I think my favorite memory so far-- the one where I wish I'd taken a picture so I could go back and look for hidden cameras later-- was attending an Academic Library Collection Development Discussion Group (acronyms, anyone?). It turns out that this meeting was called so that we could form focus groups and discuss, summarize, and reiterate to the larger group our thoughts on certain Collection Development questions, which most folks had received a list of prior to attending the meeting. I just showed up. I'm still a student. I'm supposed to be along for the ride.
...somehow, I've never been very good at staying on the sidelines...

I ended up sitting with an intelligent and diverse group of five CD librarians, a book store owner, and another student, working toward his MLS degree (just like I am). Our facilitator gave us our question, and requested that each table assign a facilitator, a recorder, and be prepared to present a re-cap to the larger group in the last half-hour. I signed up for the job of taking notes. As a student, I didn't expect to have much to add to what is traditionally an experienced librarian's Management position, and I had very little experience with the topic.

Surprisingly, NOBODY ELSE wanted to take on facilitating the table discussion, EITHER. Realizing that this reluctance was due to a dislike of presenting on the fly, I offered to read my own notes for the group if someone else would facilitate-- as it made more sense for me to read my writing anyway. Thankfully, at that moment someone accidentally volunteered themselves. Our topic was "The Future of ILL and Collection Development in Academic Libraries."

So... I gave my first Committee presentation yesterday. I talked about the future of ILL in Collection Development. I talked to a room of over fifty experienced librarians. I spoke way too fast. I know this because I kept having to slow down enough to breathe. And everyone at the table reassured me that I'd done a good job as soon as I sat back down. That is not usually a good sign. Self-criticism aside, it was a really rewarding experience to be an active participant. I'm not just saying that, either. I have truly missed public speaking opportunities, and the days when mine was the name called whenever a group's speaker or discussion facilitator failed to show up for a campus event. It's not that I like the spotlight-- it's more a burning desire to be helpful, mixed in with a great appreciation for a well-conducted discussion of intelligent ideas and varied perspectives. "Let's go solve something!" seems to be the gist of my mindset at these times.

You'd never know I was once so painfully shy that I refused to go to kindergarten without my mom. You'd never know I spend my free time these days watching corny movies and working as a nanny. It's good to be reminded that an encouraging hug and the willingness to read a special story aloud are as appreciated in library-world as they are in nanny-land. Maybe my professional success can be personal, too. Who knows, by the time I finally get my MLS, I may be running for President!
...I wonder if Congress responds to a good firm "mommy-voice"... Either way, I should probably sign up for some of these groups I just finished contributing to. Next time I go, I want to know what's going on before I get there. Next time, I want to wear more comfortable shoes. Next time, I want to be an official member of the group.

Flickering

There. All I did was describe what they often do, and you KNEW I was talking about candles!! ...unless you thought I referred to some random technological gadget... No matter! The topic of the day is candles.

Isn't it amazing how the quality of light, and amount of smoke a candle creates can vary so much? And the length of the wick beyond the top of the candle both determines how BIG the flame will be, and how fast the candle will burn down! Finally-- technology I can understand! I can use all sorts of technology with no problem. I can even learn a new computer program without instruction or read the directions on a new gadget and use it with confidence... but that doesn't mean that I actually understand what's going on, or how A+B goes about always equalling C. But candles? Those I can really comprehend.

I actually found a candle recently that burns clean, has no smell, gives off a very reliable steady light, is supposed to last for 56 hours (I've burned it for about a total of 10 hours so far, I think, and its not much shorter than when I bought it.)... it's a gorgeous not-quite-white so I really love looking at both the flame and the candle together... and it only cost $7. Wow. Now THAT is affordable technology!

There are candles collecting dust on my shelves that cost a lot more than $7, and had all sorts of great selling features when I bought them... but there they are... collecting dust. And its not just that I'm an infrequent candle-burner, either. I've lit a candle almost every day (or two or three) since I put up my first Christmas lights at Thanksgiving... and a few times even before that. I'm more of a seasonal candle-burner. Adding more heat to a stifling room in August just doesn't appeal to me somehow...

The thing is that it has taken me this long to find a candle I really like. I've found candles I really liked for a day or two... but because I liked them so much when I found them, I bought big ones, and they definitely were built to last for more than a day or two. Unfortunately, the candle's appeal didn't last that long. I wish there was a candle-recycling program. Wax is a very reusable substance, and I just can't bring myself to THROW OUT a 2/3 burned candle. I can't even regift it! What a waste of a perfectly good resource. But candles aren't something that the commercial industry thinks anyone would buy used, and apparently they don't do enough damage to the environment to warrant sorting them out of landfills or giving them their own bin at the recycling centers I've visited.

I guess the good news is that with enough preparation, research, unused wicks, as well as free time and creativity, we can recycle our own half-used candles. Melt them down in a double boiler, roll new ones in wax paper with a brand new wick at the center, and let them cool. There you have it. Perfectly good unused candles. Of course, mine would be brown. I've got red and green and white and blue and probably variations of each color... and most of them have a scent. That seems to be what draws me to candles initially... and why I'm so happy to continue using my $7 unscented candle over and over again now while the other candles go on collecting dust. What would pomegranate and evergreen smell like, mixed with "fresh linen," for example? It worries me.

What if the combination I come up with is even less appealing than the original ones I started with? What if re-melting the wax makes the scent STRONGER?? What if I get done making the candles, and the wicks just FALL OUT??? I'm telling you, technology still has the power to make me nervous. If you enjoy living on the edge, taking risks, destroying the old and creating something totally new out of the ashes, let me know. I've got a box full of half-burned candles on the bottom shelf, and they're not going anywhere.

Perspective is a Dirty Word

Even a murderer can be understood and forgiven if you have the right perspective on his or her activities. And yet, murder is SO WRONG! Don't lose perspective on THAT important point! Lawyers often get paid a lot of money to convince a jury or judge to look at things from his or her client's point of view-- and in Greek and Roman times, great orators convinced the populace to take their suggestions for right and wrong and make them community laws. Of course, talking in public spaces was a man's right, and in that society, any woman who argued her own point in public was shameless, and unfeminine, and could easily be labeled a whore or a harlot, worthy of no respect or consideration-- however convincing her argument might be.
Sound familiar?

I recently learned that my mom has no depth perception. She's made the comment my whole life-- that she has trouble with depth perception when driving... She says it's a bit like seeing the whole world as an impressionist painting. And suddenly, I could understand her perspective. I could even expand that description and apply it to so many other mysteries about my mom's interactions with the world and with me... and have them suddenly make sense! Have HER suddenly make sense! What a relief! I'm so unapproachable with people I can't understand-- and its awful when one of them is your mom. It certainly hasn't been nice for her, anyway.

Society doesn't often use the word "epiphany," but you can always tell when someone has had one-- they say "OOOooohhhh!" Or they exclaim "OH!", and pause completely in whatever they are doing for a full two seconds, before remembering again that they are driving or cooking or reading or carrying on a conversation. There it was. That was the moment. Epiphany.

On New Years weekend, I returned a favor, and helped my parents move my aunt into a new house that was much closer to her work, and to our family. She'd put most of her stuff into a storage unit near my folks while she searched for a good place to rent, so everything was already neatly boxed. It had taken one LARGE moving van to get her life into that storage unit. She was renting two movers and their large moving van to get her out of storage again, and into the house she'd found in the new town. My folks and I were going along to help her unpack and rearrange the heavy stuff. Since I live about two hours from my folks, and three from Aunt's new place, my parents decided to drive the three of us from their house, and save on gas.

I arrived at 10:30am sharp, as directed, ready to work. Turns out, my folks weren't ready to work yet. Or drive. About 12:30pm, we all got into their car, and headed downtown. Turns out there were some errands to run before we left for Aunt's new place. I started glancing around, surreptitiously looking for the filming crew. This HAD to be another episode for the sitcom of my life. It was too ridiculous NOT to be! After 20 minutes of watching my folks try and decide what kind of bread to buy at the local bakery, and then wonder if they should get a second loaf of a different kind, and what kind would that be?... I was ready to kill something. It was 1pm, and we were still a good 90 minutes away from actually being helpful to my Aunt's move. WHY did I have to get up at 7am on Saturday?? WHY didn't I bring a stronger headache medicine, or at least a hard-backed book to hit myself over the head with??

About then, Papa's cell phone rang. It was Aunt. The moving van was full, and there were still some boxes in her storage unit. Could we bring all our vehicles and get over there to take the last of it? The movers were on an hourly rate. Their truck was two feet shorter than the one she'd used before. Wow. I guess its good my parents were running three hours behind. We ran one last errand, drove the 20 minutes back to their house, unloaded my travel gear from my CRV, and then went back into town to Aunt's storage unit. Mom rode with me, since I didn't know where we were going, and Papa was taking the truck.

"It's along here on the left, right next to a big sign." Three miles later, there it was. On the left. Just like mom said. We loaded up, which was itself pretty funny. The movers pack trucks and vehicles every day. They are good at getting the most stuff into the smallest spaces. Its their JOB. But Papa and Aunt (and I have to admit, me as well) are very aware of their ability to pack a lot of stuff into a small space well. You should see how much stuff can come out of one closet in my folks' house! It's like Christmas at Grandma's, only without the wrapping paper. (I think that's actually a box of used bows down on the left, behind the sewing machine, though.)

Finally, the person who could yell their idea the loudest got to decide what box and which rocking chair went in what vehicle. It wasn't me. I'd stopped contributing when I saw the movers begin to resemble deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi. I know that pinched wide-eyed look. I had it every day in math class for years.

Then we all caravanned down to Aunt's new place, about an hour away. Well, Aunt and the movers caravanned. Mom rode with me. A whole hour to chat with mom and take her driving directions. Oh, and her driving glasses had ended up in Papa's truck when we repacked everything... so she couldn't actually SEE where we were going in order to give directions... Lucky me. There just HAD to be a camera rolling here somewhere. Papa drove on ahead, and missed the exit. He ended up getting there about ten minutes after everyone else. It was about 3pm when we started unloading everything at Aunt's.

If you've ever moved into a new place or out of an old one, on a deadline, you know how much can go wrong. It helped that Aunt had labeled most of the boxes. "Library" went into the blue bedroom. "Office" went into the yellow bedroom, unless she actually wanted it in the blue room for now. "Files," "Books," "Notebooks," "Computer Supplies," and "Miscellaneous" boxes had to be sorted by Aunt into either the blue or yellow bedroom on an individual basis. The bed frame didn't fit through the bedroom door. They had to find a saw. That one didn't cut straight, so they had to find a different saw. Then mom and I had to hold the bed frame still while Papa stood on a ladder, hit his head on the ceiling fan a few times, and sawed off three inches at the head of the bed frame. He did it in the kitchen, so nobody would have to walk through the sawdust with boxes-- at least, that's what I think he meant when he said it would be easier to clean up in there. The kitchen has the same flooring as the living and dining rooms, so it was either that, or he knew mom or I would be more likely to take responsibility for cleaning a mess in the kitchen. I'd stopped asking questions (and looking for hidden cameras) at that point in the afternoon. I didn't want to know anymore.

Turns out, the bed frame was about five inches longer than the mattress anyway, so sawing off those three inches actually made it fit better on a variety of levels. Ahh the happy accidents of moving day! The movers did a GREAT job. I mean it. They calmly carried boxes from room to room as Aunt changed her mind about where she wanted them. They hauled the heavy awkward bed frame down the hall and tried it in the bedroom doorway three times, and WITHOUT scraping the walls. They accepted her decision to relocate the piano with a smile. They even laughed with me at my attempts to stand somewhere that might actually be OUT OF THE WAY while all the heavy stuff was carried hither and yon and back again. Around five thirty, the truck was empty. Aunt paid the movers, and they trundled away with their truck. Then we started helping her to unpack. Unpack? Yeah. The real reason we were there with her in her new house today, remember? To help Aunt unpack a bit. And rearrange the living room. Novocaine anyone?

I made my suggestions for the living room arrangement (loudly so I could be heard over all the other suggestions), and then put myself in charge of the kitchen boxes and the pile of sawdust. You can live without having your table lamps on the right tables for a few days, but you can't live without silverware and cups and pans. They moved the TV unit twice, and then took a break to eat the lunch we'd packed along with us at 12:3o when we first left my parents' house. It was 6pm. Eventually, I discovered that they'd settled on the living room arrangement that I'd first suggested, and were now trying to make the TV work. It was getting close to 7pm, and I had a three-hour drive ahead of me. We spent another five or ten minutes figuring out what light switches turned off what lights, and then headed back to my folks' place. Mom rode with me, since it was now dark, and we were taking a different route from Aunt's to my folks' than we did from the Storage Unit to Aunt's. Sigh. At least this time, she had her glasses. And she bought me a full tank of gas. There's a lot to like about someone who buys a full tank of gas for a car they don't even drive.

It was on this tired, dirty, and quiet drive that mom told me about the impressionist paintings, and epiphany struck. OH! She really doesn't know how deeply I feel something at times, because she really doesn't have depth perception! ... because now I understand she doesn't have a choice about her perspective, and I do. She just needs more information handed to her than the average driver. OH! Two second pause. Oops-- I'm supposed to be driving. Right. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive, honey?" I'm sure. Very sure. But I like your company, Mom.
It's all about understanding someone else's perspective. And appreciating what you see.

New Beginnings

I don't do New Years Resolutions-- I do Life Altering Personal Commitments to Change. (aka LAPC2)

'Tis the season, and all that. If you were wondering about the alarm clock purchase and other of my personal resolves, Read On! If you wanted to know more about my friend's weird New Years traditions (or live in the South, and want to be sure she got them right)-- here is the link.

I have started a new job to compliment the new year. Or rather, I have returned to a job I once held, but in a new form and at a new place, and with a new appreciation. I'm a nanny-- possibly even an au pair! (Totally different designation, and parents appreciate you more because you are "educated" and/or "from overseas.") On the days I nanny, I have to get up at about 5am. It's a bit painful, as I haven't gotten used to my new schedule yet. I do, however, have a new alarm clock. The old alarm had two options- radio alarm (easy to sleep through, as I used to take naps to rock music in college), or sudden heart attack at 50 decibels. Ouch! On the good side of the scale, when I finally arrive at work, I get to cuddle a really cute baby, whose nick-name is "Pork Chop," and read happy books all day to a little boy who calls me "Spicy." (No relation to the pop band, thank you god.) I tell you, life is GOOD!

Apparently, they don't make the previously coveted light-brightening alarm clocks for the common masses anymore, though I SWEAR I saw one in the last "in-flight-magazine" I read. Of course... the items available for purchase in those ridiculous magazines are not really for the people who can't afford to fly first class, anyway. (sigh)
Much preferable, and harder for my psyche to ignore at 5am, my new alarm sounds like church bells. Or, alternately, my grandmother's creepy hall clock. Both impart a certain level of moral responsibility to be at work on time. There's nothing like a swift kick in the conscience to get you out of bed! AND, as a bonus, I can go to sleep to the sound of crickets, wind chimes, or seagulls. The wind chimes are a bit too close to church bells for me, and the seagulls remind me too much of colic-y baby, so I chose the crickets. ...This is me being positive, just in case you couldn't tell.

As part of this new delightful routine, I'm practicing my Tai Chi in the mornings, followed by school work when I'm too awake to avoid it: After I work out the pre-dawn unfocused stares, and before the after-lunch yawns hit. I have a new bedtime, too-- and a new budget to keep me out of trouble between times. Yeah. Just when I thought that between office work and school work, they'd bury me with my fingers welded to the keyboard-- here comes a change of pace!

Call me a dork-- I'm actually looking forward to the possibility of getting my school work done ahead of time. I repeat-- Ahead of Time! That last-minute unedited rush worked for me in high school and even in my undergrad program... (though I'm not sure I'd even get accepted at my old school now-- their new enrollment standards give me nosebleed) but I just can't seem to get the same good grades from turning in half-arsed assignments in Grad School. And the work is HARDER this time around! Of course, this time I'm actually maintaining a home (not shoveling out a dorm room), fixing my own food (not making trips to the cafeteria), and earning my own wages (not subsisting on a combination of parental handouts and school-supplemented work-study scholarships) --in my free time between classes.

I've noticed it costs more to keep me these days, too. I guess I could lose the car and gain some house-mates... but I can't even begin to tell you how GOOD it feels to state the decisions that are best for me, and know that's the end of the conversation. (Unless I'm on the phone with my parents, of course. Then, even if they gasp!* agree with my decision, it'll be hours before they actually communicate that approval.)

*Not responsible for offended sensibilities, bad word choices, or childish situations. For a more adult assessment of my parents than I've given thus far, and their quest to help me make a good life for myself whether I want it or not, see future blog entries. Unrated, 28 years and counting.

The Darkest Time of the Darkest Night

There is always a big hullabaloo about starting fresh for the New Year-- as though somehow resetting our clocks and changing out our wall calendars is the same as resetting our daily routine and throwing out all our bad habits. That hypnotic count down from ten to zero, and the huge wave of noise and happy celebration are like the snap of a therapist's fingers to bring us back to reality, fully healed from what came before. Rubbish.

As my friend can tell you (Link to that Entry), what really matters is not eating anything that scratches backwards, and only doing what you WANT to do ALL YEAR on the day that sets the pace for it. Resolutions Shnezolutions!

I can remember sitting and thinking about my habits and my life each December, knowing that everyone was going to ask me what my resolutions were for the new year... and trying hella hard to come up with something good. I don't smoke, I don't drink, and I eat healthy 75% of the time. What else do people quit or start cold-turkey at New Years? (Seriously- if you've got a good one, I want to hear about it.)

This year, I was flipping through the January Oprah magazine (released in early December) as I stood in line with over $75 worth of groceries to get me through the last three days before I go visit my family for Christmas. I figured I needed all the comfort food I could get. Anyway, I had just started to worry about coming up with a good resolution to tell everyone about for New Years. (Notice I didn't say I was actually planning to DO it.) The cover says "Be the woman you want to be! Why it's so hard to change yourself-- a revolutionary guide to making it happen." Hey-Presto! I'll bet there are some GREAT resolution ideas in there! How naive.

There it was, on page 57. "Self-Transformation 101" Two simple steps.
Oprah changed my life.

Okay, well, so I actually snort with laughter at the absurdity of that overstated claim. And I'm not actually planning to change my life forever at the moment the ball touches down on December 31st. But those two simple ideas, and the two steps accompanying them did make me think about my life in a different way-- about all the things I've discovered that I WANT in my life, but haven't actually been able to include on a regular basis. This year, I'm not making grand resolutions. I'm making personal awarenesses, and accessing the resources to follow through on them. There is a whopping difference between the two approaches.

What follows is called a teaser.
The first question you've got to ask yourself is this: "Do I know why I want to make this change?" For the rest of this awesome two-step process, I suggest you get your own copy of Oprah's Magazine for January 2007. Check out page 57, and if you really want to think deep-- I just turned that page, and discovered two more steps to the process. Oops. I'm not sure I'll read them, though. Steps one and two have already got me going in a good direction. Not bad for two weeks to New Years!

If you're curious about my own plans, here are the steps I plan to take first:
-Get a recording of the song in Legally Blonde that gets my
"I am going to MAKE it, and make it GOOD!" going.
-Get a light-brightening alarm and set it for 5:15am.
-Set regular radio alarm for 6am.
-Set second regular radio alarm for 8pm. (no, this is not to help me wake up)

I'll let you know how it goes.

When Hope is Reborn

My Christmas Card has a following. I'm not kidding. I've been told by at least three people now that they plan to save THIS YEAR'S CARD as their all-time favorite. I'm actually quite pleased. Its one of the most personal cards I've ever put together, and I meant every word.

Just in case you didn't get a card from me this year, I'm including the message I sent below. I don't have any of the actual cards I made left, however, so you will just have to use your imagination. The basic format was a fun folded card with seasonal embossed decorations on front, surrounding a small dark red envelope. If you open the card, the message below greeted you, along with a stamp quoting the Beatles "I get by with a little help from my friends." If you open the little red envelope, you get a glittery picture of snowy bridges or snowy vistas of Asian origin-- in that was the personal message. My secret is that the smaller personal cards meant I didn't have to think of as much to say to each person, nor spend as much time writing.

12.1.2006. For many of us, time is marked by events.
The birth of a child, the death of a pet, a graduation,
the start of a relationship, the end of a career...
I signed divorce papers last January, and since then,
a new period of my life has begun. It is full of challenges
and changes, but also of friends, family, and delightful
self-discoveries. My cat would like you to know that she,
also, has a central role in my life. She’s sitting in my lap
as I type this, knocking pens off my desk, and purring.
I have enjoyed setting up a home for my comfort,
and sharing it with the good friends I’ve made--
and I already had waiting-- in my new home town.
I had not believed a year ago that my life could be
so rich with friends. Thank you. You are they.
I am also learning to succeed as a graduate student.
It is not a graceful process, but I am learning much
about myself and about Library Science as I go forward.
Since that is the point of any education, I try to be content.
I am also discovering what I want my daily life to include.
Finally figuring out who I intend to be inside my skin.
I’m 28. Its about time. And I like me.
In the spirit of Joy, and the hope for Peace...
Happy Christmas to you and yours!

Even more exciting is the fact that I got these cards sent out BEFORE the 25th of December. I always start early-- and I have never before gotten the cards or newsletters actually SENT OUT until about New Year's. In fact, I have become so aware of my handicap with time that I usually make this a "seasonal" card. And I talk about both New Year's AND Christmas-- just in case.

Doing Christmas Cards is a bit like exercising: You are much more likely to actually DO IT, and enjoy the process, if you invite friends to come over and work on theirs at the same time. Stamping-Buddies. I highly recommend them.

The thing is-- we DO tend to mark time more by events than by dates. If you ask a middle-aged man to tell you where he worked after high school-- he will first tell you what year he graduated, because that was a big event in his life, and he has seperate memories of what came before, and what came after. Ask a writer how long she's been working on her latest book, and she'll remember the experience that sparked her to start it-- and then give you a time-frame based on that incident or event in her life.

The passing of time itself is actually very superficial. Hours, days, months, years-- just ask the Romans. We still use a calendar today that is loosely based on theirs... and they actually had to include a whole imaginary MONTH one year to get the calendar back on track with the actual movement of the earth and the changing seasons. No forced accounting of "leap years" for them!

In fact, as the earth moves farther from the sun, our hours are actually growing longer. Time is passing more slowly in a very physical sense. And those of you who remember how HOT it was on the west coast in September and October this year will agree that the traditional "summer months" aren't really all that descriptive of our world anymore. Our calendar of months has little to do with the passing of seasons these days. It is actually much more important that we count the challenges we've overcome, the seasons we've experienced, and the friends we've made, than specifying any number of candles on a cake. Those little flames tell us how many times we've passed completely around the Sun... but they don't tell us what we did or who we became during those rotations.

Surprised that I'm divorced? I am. Its not usually part of the plan when one marries. But as I said, time passes and people change. Its actually a bit like gaining membership into a very large secret society-- and as just about everyone you meet knows how painful it is to start over after a DIVORCE (oops, did I say that dirty word out loud??), they are usually very helpful and kind. I'm lucky that even my ex took this view of things. And I have mentioned him to you before-- he gets a football every year for Christmas.