Very Forgettable

I may have just embarrassed myself. I asked one of my favorite musicians in the world for an autograph. See, she also happens to be a local musician, which means she does cool little events where you actually have the chance to go up to her afterwards and embarrass yourself like I did tonight. She was very nice about it, but I think both of us would have been better off if I had just written her some fanmail.

I am comforting myself by remembering that I am pretty forgettable on the surface. Which is not to say that I am not interesting or memorable or worthwhile once you get to know me. But lets face it, I blend in to the background, and I like it that way. I have worked hard to make sure that is the case. And this is exactly why, so that when I do things that are a little bit fan-girlish, a little bit embarrassing, a little bit awkward, people forget it was me. So when they tell the story later, I become "just some girl", which also means that if I meet them again I have the chance to make a new first impression.

I like my system.

I hope it works the way I think it does.

Bummer

I just bummed myself out by reading some Occupy Wall Street stuff. I blame Lemony Snicket. Until now I had managed to be aware that it was happening, but not give it much thought. Then I saw this. And I thought, well yes, that all makes perfect sense, maybe I understand this better than I thought I did. Turns out, yes I understand the frustrations, I understand the WHY of the protest. What I don't understand is what they want the next step to be. If by some miracle someone did come out of the building and say "You know what? You all have a point. How can we make this right?" What would those protesters do? Who would speak for them? and what would they say?

Thats the part that makes me sad. I know our economy is in the shitter, I know that I am luckier than many, I know that I am coming through this largely unscathed. I know that I am lucky to live in a state that believes in affordable healthcare for everyone, so I am able to see a doctor once a week, and whenever I need to. The state of the union right now (that is: not-united, eating itself alive) bums me out. But what bums me out even more is the helplessness of it all. That even as these people are standing on the streets, pouring their hearts out, they are not doing much more than I am. They are spending more energy, and maybe sometime soon that energy will get noticed, it sure has a better chance of getting noticed than me mulling it over silently. But what then? It seems like once its noticed me and the protesters have the same plan - stare blankly.

It reminds me of watching a toddler throwing a tantrum. Its painful to watch someone in distress. And I know that this is the only way they know how to communicate that distress. But because I don't know what would cure that distress, or rather how to procure the cure for their distress, all I can do is watch and empathize. I hope a doctor walks by soon and either fixes it or tells me how to fix it.

I saw a petition online to forgive all student debt, the idea being that with all that extra money all those people could go out and stimulate the economy, and you know, not get evicted. I like this plan, a bail-out for students (of all kinds) who will then go out there and work hard and all that.

But what about the people (like me) who are in school now, what happens to our debt? I suppose it would also be forgiven, but at that point why issue loans at all? Why not just make tuition a government problem? Why not just give everyone scholarships? I like this plan too. I had a professor from Senegal who could never quite wrap his head around the whole student loan thing. He couldn't understand why we (as a people) thought it was a good idea to spend money we didn't have, in order to learn. He didn't understand how the government allowed this to go on. He said that in his country everything was paid for, because the president knew that without an educated populace his country would never get off the ground. I agree, but I am a linguist, not an economist, or a policy maker. So, until I am able to do something more concrete about it, I just agree. And that bums me out.

Fear

I slept poorly last night. I spent yesterday doing homework, (mostly studying Hindi) and watching The Wire on my study breaks. I also cooked and knit a bit, but my brain was most occupied alternately by how to conjugate hindi adjectives and the requirements for being a drug dealer in the projects. Its not the drug deals, the junkies or the violence of the Wire (all 4 episodes that I have seen) that gets me; its the apathy of the cops, the desperation and hard-heartedness of the people in the projects. But the worst part for me, was seeing the one or two characters who cared one way or the other. Those were the characters that stuck in my head and made me think about the show long after I had turned away from the screen.

Apparently this is a bad combination for my brain. I kept waking up in a panic, dreaming that I was failing at school and my classmates had to carry me academically. The worst part was that they resented me for it, they were not glad to help, and they didn't care that I was grateful for the assistance.

Because its October and because I am a fan of Neil Gaiman, I have been thinking about what kind of scary books to get people in my life for All Hallows Read. The thing is, what scares me might not scare you. The things that keep me awake at night, namely the soft heartedness of people in hard hearted situations, might not keep you awake at night. And the things that might scare the pants off of you, are things I might be able to live with (although I doubt it, I'm pretty sensitive). Which makes buying scary things hard. So I have decided that instead of going with things that are scary, I will go with things that are traditionally Halloween-y. World War Z for my brother who out of the blue last week announced he was the best at Zombie survival skills, I truly had no idea. Enders Game for my dad, who has always loved sci fi, and because I just really want an excuse to give him this book. And I think I will use this as an opportunity to introduce my best friend to my favorite author, Neil Gaiman, who writes about strange things, but not always scary things.

To round out this fairly unorganized blog post are a few antidotes to unpleasant and scary things. First off, Madison the 5 year old make up guru, watching her is almost as calming as meditation. There is nothing quite like the focus and competency of small children to calm the nerves. Secondly red pandas playing in the snow which are always good for a smile, especially the last little dude, and finally an oldy but goody: marcel the shell, who won't fight unless provoked.

Thinking and Feeling (and Crying)

The other day this brought me to tears a bit. I'm not sure what exactly it was about it that broke through all my carefully constructed walls. Maybe it was just a chance of timing, maybe I was ready to start crying, maybe I was too tired to not cry anymore, maybe it was the sheer selflessness of it, the beauty and the work that had to go into each project. The anonymity of it is something I recognize too. Sometimes you just want to make something pretty for people who will appreciate it, people who need it, and you just want to get out of the way so they can just appreciate the gift without having to appreciate you too. Sometimes its about the work more than its about the ego.

The leak that those sculptures sprung in me has been dripping for days now. I seem to be ready to weep at every bit of art I see, every tune I hear, every poem I read, every bit of fiction I read, every tv show I see. Truly it seems if someone created it, took it from Idea to reality for the sheer joy of making something that way, it has brought me to tears.

I have been trying to plug that hole with proper posture and some really good, smart hip hop. Even though hip hop is creative and (at least doomtree) seems to be made from a place of love, a place of "I can't help it, I have to make this". It somehow occupies my mind in a way that doesn't leave me weak. I am no less impressed by it than I am by the book sculptures, but it seems to strengthen me, rather than weaken me. It reinforces the idea that I am able to face anything with grace and poise, that I don't have to backdown to see the beauty in things.

I think the creative part of me is trying not to be quelled by the analytical part of me which is taking center stage as I get back into school. Doomtree (and other hip hop artists like them) are a good balance of the two, they seem to make being analytic creative and beautiful.

A Sudden Forest

For the first time in 13 years of therapy I got half way through my appointment and had nothing to talk about! No issues on the horizon, no big stressful situations, no big emotional breakthroughs, nothing. So my therapist pulled out a chart that I have seen before. On one axis there is time/recovery and on the other axis there is symptom use. At the beginning of the chart you see symptom use rise and then plateau, (there is a section at the beginning of the plateau marked "denial"). After the plateau there is a drop in symptom use, but its not a smooth decline, there are plenty of ups and downs of varying degrees, eventually the symptom use line goes back to zero and a little further down the chart there is a point labeled "Recovery" and a little further down the chart there is a point marked "able to discontinue therapy". Today I got to do something I never thought I would be able to do. When my therapist asked me where I thought I was on the chart I got to point to the word Recovery. This is not to say that I never have eating disordered thoughts, but I am finally to the point where those thoughts look genuinely ridiculous to me.

I thought maybe recovery would feel like arriving somewhere. But it doesn't. I kind of feel like i am suddenly realizing i am in the heart of the forest. I was certainly aware that i was heading into a forest, i could see it off on the horizon and as i got closer the trees got thicker, but now i am suddenly actually in the forest. Like the forest caught up to me when I wasn't paying attention. But the forest wasn't my destination, and recovery isn't my final destination either. Now that I am here, I can go on to all the other things I want to do.

This Pot of Gold is Disappointing

I've got nothing going on and its kind of freaking me out. I don't remember the last time my life was so calm and so boring. I suppose it might have been this way last summer, but I don't remember. I suppose thats the thing about times like this, they aren't very memorable.

Since September I have been dealing with one thing or another pretty much continuously. And now, for the first time, I find myself without an illness of some kind, no job and not much homework (I'm still working on my incomplete from Spring semester).

I thought this was what I was waiting for. But I suppose free time is a little bit like chasing the gold at the end of a rainbow, its hard to find, and when you get there it doesn't look anything like you thought it would. I thought I would get to knit whatever I wanted (including finishing up the afghan for my aunt), but I find myself with an injured wrist, so thats not happening. I thought I would get a chance to play all those hours of video games I had been putting off while I was in school, but now that it comes down to it, it seems I can't be bothered. I thought I would finally get to read something for fun, so I started The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo, but I'm having a hard time seeing what all the fuss was about. I'm half way through and not all that invested. I thought I would be making a skirt a day now that I have the time, but I haven't touched my sewing machine yet.

I guess my point is, because there is nothing going on in my life, there isn't much to write about, and I am giving myself over to it. So if things seem a little quiet from my corner, don't worry, I'm just relaxing.

All This Stuff

Hello world of Blog. Its Sunday night and I find myself dealing with an unwanted guest. Edie has decided that she needs to step into my life today, which has of course left me wondering what I was doing so wrong that she felt the need to pop up and help me out. This is what I have come up with:

It would be lovely if it were a simple solution like "i did this thing today" or "tomorrow i have to do that thing" but in reality I think it started a while ago. If I'm honest with myself (and I like to think I am) I think it started a few weeks ago. Not that Edie has been here that long, just that that is when things started building up, laying the ground work for her appearance. Its not even that anything major happened a few weeks ago. Just that my May term class was ending, and I was coming home again after a few weeks of staying at Crickhollow while work was done on my house. The May term class was a little more stressful than I had anticipated, or maybe it was just as stressful as I had anticipated but I wasn't as strong as I had hoped. I'm really not sure. Either way, it was taxing.

I was really hoping my May term class would end when the class ended. Instead I am STILL working on my final project for that class. And on top of that I have started meeting with my phonology professor to work on finishing the Incomplete I took this spring. Turns out I still hate phonology. Even when I understand it, even when it makes sense to me, I hate it. Even just looking at the data for a problem-set kicks my anxiety into gear. When I walk away from it, even when I have solved a problem well, I feel dragged out, worn out, empty and sad. Even just writing about it bums me out. I know there is a point to it. I know there are people who put this study to good use. I, however, don't give a shit. I think this is what bums me out, that I have to do it even though it means nothing to me. I have to put a lot of mental energy into it, and I don't get anything back, not even the satisfaction of solving a puzzle.

On with the list: My mother. It seems she is always on the list of reasons Edie pops up, this time is no exception. I made a skirt, a beautiful skirt that I am very proud of, and I emailed my mum about it because she is the one who taught me to sew and our shared love of all things crafty and hand made is one of the last things we have in common. And, since I am being totally honest: I wanted her to be proud of me. I probably wanted her to see that I don't need her, I wanted to show her the personal touch I had put on the skill she had given me. I wanted to show her myself through a lens she could understand, since I can't show her much of myself anymore. I didn't hear from her for a while. I was starting to wonder if she was mad at me for the beautiful thing I had made, if she was jealous, or somehow else crying about it. (I know it sounds crazy, it is, she is) Finally she got back to me, she left me a voicemail saying she couldn't open the photos I had sent her on her phone, that she had been visiting my grandparents and that my grandma had had some kind of medical emergency the night before. She didn't elaborate, didn't bother to give me anymore details than that, and admonished me for not visiting them enough. So instead of the pride and praise I had been looking for, I got guilt and worry. Awesome. (the lesson here is don't do things because you want a particular response, don't expect much from people, especially the crazy ones)

Next up: the renovations. I hate renovations. I stayed at Crickhollow for a few weeks, which was alright, I love the Crick very much. But its not mine. I don't live there. I was/am so glad to be back to my bed and my room and my cat and my stuff. I'm so glad to be here in fact that even when I knew there was going to be some potentially noisy stuff going on in the morning I opted to tough it out. But if I had known there would actually be more loud mornings than not I would have grudgingly packed up my shit again and headed back to St. Paul. I did not know this though, so I was left with a few good nights sleep, and mostly a bunch of shitty nights sleep. I don't do well without sleep.

So I'm back to Crick for a few days starting tomorrow, and then my aunt and uncle are in town, I adore them, but it means another week of not sleeping in my bed, also a week of being social. I'm really tired of being social. I feel like I haven't had a moment to myself for weeks. Which is sort of true, but partly just because a lot of the time I do have to myself is full of school and other shit I don't want to have floating around my head. What I really want is a goddamned summer vacation! I want some time to lay around and play videogames and knit whatever the hell I want and design and make skirts and read all the books I haven't had time for.

So all of those things combined make a sort of perfect storm for Edie to step in. I'm feeling boxed in and like I need to rebel somehow, so here she comes, giving me a way to rebel, to express myself and my frustrations. The trouble is, I'm the only one who gets hurt by this rebellion. She wants me to slow down, she wants me to take some time for myself. She wants me to stick to my guns and tell people I don't want to do things when I don't want to do them. She wants me to ask for what I need. And she is right. Which is why I am at home writing this tonight rather than out at a movie with a friend of mine like I had planned. But there are some things that I can't have, even if I ask for them. For example, I can't not finish phonology. I can't make the carpet guys come at 4:30pm and work until midnight or however long it takes them to finish. There are always going to be things I don't want to do, but have to do anyway. Edie and I need to work out some kind of plan for when this is the case. Not to worry, I'm back at the Emily Program again after a month long break. I'm so glad to be back I can barely stand it. And it looks like its just in the nick of time too!