Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Holy cow... Me too.
It's like she copied the letter straight from my head... except for the kid part of course.
Monday, April 14, 2008
What if...
What if you could meet someone in the art world?
It depends on what the art world means. All of the arts? I have a few that I would like to meet – my mother insists that all creative people have a bit of agony in them; the “tortured artist” thing… and I am starting to believe she’s right. I would love to meet Michelangelo or Picasso and pick their brains a bit. How a seemingly average man could create such magnificent beauty knocks my socks off. There are also so many authors I would love to meet – J.D. Salinger, John Knowles, Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Browning… and the list goes on.
What if you could have one wish granted for the benefit of all mankind?
I would wish for people to think of others before themselves. With this one thought-process change, we would eliminate war, poverty, greed, and all the horrible derivatives that are becoming more and more prevalent in our society. Just check out msnbc news. Yeah. All of that crap? Wiped away by thinking of someone other than yourself.
What if you could travel anywhere in the world?
This is so hard! I always want to go somewhere warm, sandy, and wonderful – something so foreign to my experience in MN/ND – but at the same time, I have an absolute longing to see Europe. To see the history and the amazing kaleidoscope of cultures is so fascinating to me. I’d also love to see Africa, but it terrifies me too. Could I handle seeing all its beauty and pain at once? My ideal destinations change every day, but if at this moment I could pack my bags and jump the jet – I’d be flying to Costa Rica or somewhere similar.
What if you could live in a period, other than the present, for 24 hours?
I’d like to live in the 1300 to 1500’s – The social norms and society itself back then is fascinating to me. Granted, as I woman, 24 hours would probably plenty long for me to live back then!
What if you could become an animal for 24 hours?
I would definitely be a bird. I hate birds; they are mean and loud and generally everything nasty – but I would get to fly!!
What if you could bring someone back to life for 24 hours?
I’m not sure. As Jimmie said, how hard would be to only have 24 hours – and then say goodbye again? Awful. But even so, I would choose Adeline. There is so much I would say to her.
It depends on what the art world means. All of the arts? I have a few that I would like to meet – my mother insists that all creative people have a bit of agony in them; the “tortured artist” thing… and I am starting to believe she’s right. I would love to meet Michelangelo or Picasso and pick their brains a bit. How a seemingly average man could create such magnificent beauty knocks my socks off. There are also so many authors I would love to meet – J.D. Salinger, John Knowles, Maya Angelou, Edgar Allen Poe, Robert Browning… and the list goes on.
What if you could have one wish granted for the benefit of all mankind?
I would wish for people to think of others before themselves. With this one thought-process change, we would eliminate war, poverty, greed, and all the horrible derivatives that are becoming more and more prevalent in our society. Just check out msnbc news. Yeah. All of that crap? Wiped away by thinking of someone other than yourself.
What if you could travel anywhere in the world?
This is so hard! I always want to go somewhere warm, sandy, and wonderful – something so foreign to my experience in MN/ND – but at the same time, I have an absolute longing to see Europe. To see the history and the amazing kaleidoscope of cultures is so fascinating to me. I’d also love to see Africa, but it terrifies me too. Could I handle seeing all its beauty and pain at once? My ideal destinations change every day, but if at this moment I could pack my bags and jump the jet – I’d be flying to Costa Rica or somewhere similar.
What if you could live in a period, other than the present, for 24 hours?
I’d like to live in the 1300 to 1500’s – The social norms and society itself back then is fascinating to me. Granted, as I woman, 24 hours would probably plenty long for me to live back then!
What if you could become an animal for 24 hours?
I would definitely be a bird. I hate birds; they are mean and loud and generally everything nasty – but I would get to fly!!
What if you could bring someone back to life for 24 hours?
I’m not sure. As Jimmie said, how hard would be to only have 24 hours – and then say goodbye again? Awful. But even so, I would choose Adeline. There is so much I would say to her.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Word to the wise
From my Don't Sweat the Small Stuff desk calendar:
"Becoming less attached to outcomes doesn't mean that you don't care or that you don't try. Instead, it's more a matter of trying really hard, caring a great deal, putting the odds in your favor—-but then letting go of the results and allowing things to unfold as they will (which is what will happen anyway)."
"Becoming less attached to outcomes doesn't mean that you don't care or that you don't try. Instead, it's more a matter of trying really hard, caring a great deal, putting the odds in your favor—-but then letting go of the results and allowing things to unfold as they will (which is what will happen anyway)."
Monday, April 7, 2008
Needles - not just for torture anymore!
When my depression recently came back with a royal smack in the face, it made me realize that I once again have to take the bull by the horns and maneuver my life into something a bit more manageable. I seriously considered going back to the doctor and getting anti-depressants, and it hit me at how low I must have become to actually consider that possibility again. I was on enough drugs to kill a small elephant at one point of my life and it did me absolutely no good and it took me a long time to realize I was in a walking coma. And it took me a long time to get out of it and find some sort of balance. This new round of the big D would have to be fought with something different - medication would be the very last option.
Then someone suggested I try acupuncture. I have gone through 3 acupuncture treatments now. Let me tell you how terrified I was at the first appointment! My hands sweated, my body shook, and when the 40 or so needles were in place, I cried. Immediately I felt different. Not necessarily better; just different. I lay there watching the shade of depression slowly pull back to show me a fluorescent ceiling of clarity… and reality. That was not something I had seen in a long time. I have been wandering around under this Charlie Brown cloud for so long that I'm not really sure who I am anymore. I laid there imagining how I would be, the person I would become, when I am “healed.” But what a silly thought! Acupuncture is not going to make me into some new marvelous person... the prom queen princess that I often have longed to be. As disappointing as it was to think that acupuncture isn’t going to fix all my problems and make me into this beautiful, ideal woman, I wondered if the absence of my depression might.
I have found that the most beautiful people to me are the ones filled with happiness and laughter - you can see it beaming from their smiles and shining from their eyes. It isn't the highlights or lipstick or bulging muscles, it's the heart inside of them. Cheesy as it may sound, it's the absolute truth. I haven't seen that kind of peace and happiness in myself in so long that it makes me sad to think about it. When I shed this heavy blanket of disgust and disappointment of depression (and I have high hopes that acupuncture might do just that), maybe my eyes will shine with something more than tears. Maybe then I will be the beautiful, happy person I have always wished myself to be.
Then someone suggested I try acupuncture. I have gone through 3 acupuncture treatments now. Let me tell you how terrified I was at the first appointment! My hands sweated, my body shook, and when the 40 or so needles were in place, I cried. Immediately I felt different. Not necessarily better; just different. I lay there watching the shade of depression slowly pull back to show me a fluorescent ceiling of clarity… and reality. That was not something I had seen in a long time. I have been wandering around under this Charlie Brown cloud for so long that I'm not really sure who I am anymore. I laid there imagining how I would be, the person I would become, when I am “healed.” But what a silly thought! Acupuncture is not going to make me into some new marvelous person... the prom queen princess that I often have longed to be. As disappointing as it was to think that acupuncture isn’t going to fix all my problems and make me into this beautiful, ideal woman, I wondered if the absence of my depression might.
I have found that the most beautiful people to me are the ones filled with happiness and laughter - you can see it beaming from their smiles and shining from their eyes. It isn't the highlights or lipstick or bulging muscles, it's the heart inside of them. Cheesy as it may sound, it's the absolute truth. I haven't seen that kind of peace and happiness in myself in so long that it makes me sad to think about it. When I shed this heavy blanket of disgust and disappointment of depression (and I have high hopes that acupuncture might do just that), maybe my eyes will shine with something more than tears. Maybe then I will be the beautiful, happy person I have always wished myself to be.
Thursday, April 3, 2008
Goodbye my furry friend
I’m hoping to move soon to some hot new digs soon. Because, in all honesty, my apartment isn’t fit for a crackwhore. I have been living there for well over a year now, and my disdain for the entire complex and management grows daily, so that sometimes I even contemplate shoveling the sidewalks or – God forbid – fix a bathroom sink, because I know that would totally throw the management a curveball. Their entire world might be so shaken that they may even have to consider jacking my rent again.
Besides moving, working three jobs doesn’t leave me a lot of down time, but it has given Charlie (aka: Catshit, Bean, Beaner, Heifer, and You Little SHIT!) endless hours of alone time in which she can sleep, shed, shit, and eat. Then when I return home at the end of a long, hazy day and collapse into bed lacking the energy to even take out my contacts, Charlie decides it is time to practice for that 5K coming up next month to raise cancer awareness. The laps around the apartment are endless, and her sensibilities are severely wounded when I finally gain the energy to angrily groan her name against my drool-soaked pillow. After a few minutes, she will finally put aside her indignance and leap onto my bed to make amends and ascertain that I am, in fact, not yet sleeping. This has been the course of our relationship the last seven months.
So, after much deliberation, last night I sent Charlie packin. I love the silly cat and it was a tough decision to make, but in the end I think we will both be much happier. She had become much like chocolate to me. I love chocolate so much, but damnit, it makes me fat. With Charlie, I love her so much, but damnit, she makes me ornery.
So last night, I packed her and her belongings into my car, fighting tears and crossing my fingers that I had made the right decision. Once we were on our way to meet her new tormentee in Fargo, Charlie let me know how unhappy she was by howling over my radio. The louder I turned up my radio, the louder she howled. Suddenly giving her away didn’t seem like such a bad decision. As we grew close to Fargo she became quiet… then the foul odor hit my nose. Immediately rage filled my heart. I pulled over in a truck stop, and pulled her out of her carrier. My suspicions were confirmed. She shit in her carrier. I left Charlie dusting her hair all over my carseats while I dumped out cat turds in the truckstop lawn. I cleaned out her carrier in the bathrooms as best I could and scowled at the curious onlookers as I made my way back to my car. I stuck Charlie back in her carrier, resenting her every moment for the embarrassing and disgusting cleanup routine. We hopped back on the interstate, and her incessant howling began again, and I actually began to look forward to saying goodbye.
In Fargo, Charlie met her new roommate, Sharon. Sharon is a lovely woman, who will no doubt spoil Charlie silly and shower her with Christmas gifts and cat nip. Despite my irritation and annoyance with Charlie last night and the past seven months, she has been a constant companion and endless entertainment. When I hugged that little hairball goodbye, I couldn’t help but spit out cat hair, tell her to be good, and even cry a little. Happy trails, Bean.
Besides moving, working three jobs doesn’t leave me a lot of down time, but it has given Charlie (aka: Catshit, Bean, Beaner, Heifer, and You Little SHIT!) endless hours of alone time in which she can sleep, shed, shit, and eat. Then when I return home at the end of a long, hazy day and collapse into bed lacking the energy to even take out my contacts, Charlie decides it is time to practice for that 5K coming up next month to raise cancer awareness. The laps around the apartment are endless, and her sensibilities are severely wounded when I finally gain the energy to angrily groan her name against my drool-soaked pillow. After a few minutes, she will finally put aside her indignance and leap onto my bed to make amends and ascertain that I am, in fact, not yet sleeping. This has been the course of our relationship the last seven months.
So, after much deliberation, last night I sent Charlie packin. I love the silly cat and it was a tough decision to make, but in the end I think we will both be much happier. She had become much like chocolate to me. I love chocolate so much, but damnit, it makes me fat. With Charlie, I love her so much, but damnit, she makes me ornery.
So last night, I packed her and her belongings into my car, fighting tears and crossing my fingers that I had made the right decision. Once we were on our way to meet her new tormentee in Fargo, Charlie let me know how unhappy she was by howling over my radio. The louder I turned up my radio, the louder she howled. Suddenly giving her away didn’t seem like such a bad decision. As we grew close to Fargo she became quiet… then the foul odor hit my nose. Immediately rage filled my heart. I pulled over in a truck stop, and pulled her out of her carrier. My suspicions were confirmed. She shit in her carrier. I left Charlie dusting her hair all over my carseats while I dumped out cat turds in the truckstop lawn. I cleaned out her carrier in the bathrooms as best I could and scowled at the curious onlookers as I made my way back to my car. I stuck Charlie back in her carrier, resenting her every moment for the embarrassing and disgusting cleanup routine. We hopped back on the interstate, and her incessant howling began again, and I actually began to look forward to saying goodbye.
In Fargo, Charlie met her new roommate, Sharon. Sharon is a lovely woman, who will no doubt spoil Charlie silly and shower her with Christmas gifts and cat nip. Despite my irritation and annoyance with Charlie last night and the past seven months, she has been a constant companion and endless entertainment. When I hugged that little hairball goodbye, I couldn’t help but spit out cat hair, tell her to be good, and even cry a little. Happy trails, Bean.
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
I intend to write a riveting blog
Found a very thought-provoking article on the power of intention. Check it out. I'm going to try it out.
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