The Journey Is The Destination

It's Been Two Weeks And...

2006-05-03T23:50:00.000-07:00

(like the stereotypical woman who always changes her mind) I kinda miss this blog. True to my word, I've been posting on a private blog, even getting around to putting up some smashing pictures (modesty is not one of my strong points), which I haven’t done here in a while. It feels wonderful to have the freedom to say whatever I want without worrying what others might think of me.

But there's that interactive element missing and it's taking a toll on me. I love when I know people are visiting and reading about my life and soaking in my artwork. I love when I get feedback that inspires me to take a better picture or consider a new direction in my life but I hate, hate, HATE when I've hurt someone with my careless words or worse yet see someone visit all the time but never post a comment (ahem, DAD)- it makes me wonder what I'm doing wrong. Why do I torture myself like this? Why do I care so much?

I guess it's because I am not me unless I am the me that is reflected through the eyes of others. Hmm, does that make any sense? Does that contradict things I've said here in the past about being myself around others? How do I truly know who I am unless I reveal myself to someone else?

I don't have the answers and I'm not sure whether to return here or not.

I'm just a little lonely and a little sleep deprived (actually a whole lot of both at the moment). And I heard about the Big Fat Carnival submission for blog entries going on over at Alas, a blog. I'm tempted to participate because if there's one thing I know, it is what it feels like to be a fat woman who longs to talk about sex (and yes, admittedly do more than simply talk about it). And as far as I'm concerned, the words sex and fat need to be addressed together more often. I could go on for pages and pages about the two subjects and combine them into a heartbreaking and personal narrative. And I could post it here and bare my soul. It'd sure be a hell of a returning post. Then again, I fear what others might say about me (or worse yet, what they may not) and it keeps me from leaping fearlessly from the ledge I’m perched on.

We’ll see…

Die Unendliche Geschichte (The Neverending Story)

2006-04-18T15:01:00.000-07:00

"Where were we?" Engywook asked.
"At the Great Riddle Gate," Atreyu reminded him.
"Right. Now suppose you've managed to get through. Then - and only then - the second gate will be there for you. The Magic Mirror Gate. As I've said, I myself have not been able to observe it, what I tell you has been gleaned from travelers' accounts. This second gate is both open and closed. Sounds crazy, doesn't it? It might be better to say: neither closed nor open. Though that doesn't make it any less crazy. The point is that this gate seems to be a big mirror or something of the kind, though it's made neither of glass nor of metal. What it is made of, no one has ever been able to tell me. Anyway, when you stand before it, you see yourself. But not as you would in an ordinary mirror. You don't see your outward appearance; what you see is your real innermost nature. If you want to go through, you have to - in a manner of speaking - go into yourself."
"Well," said Atreyu. "It seems to me that this Magic Mirror Gate is easier to get through than the first."
"Wrong!" cried Engywook. Once again he began to trot back and forth in agitation. "Dead wrong, my friend! I've known travelers who considered themselves absolutely blameless to yelp with horror and run away at the sight of the monster grinning out of the mirror at them. We had to care for some of them for weeks before they were even able to start home."
"We!" growled Urgl, who was passing with another bucket of water. "I keep hearing we. When did you ever take care of anybody?"
Engywook waved her away.
"Others," he went on lecturing, "appear to have seen something even more horrible, but had the courage to go through. What some saw was not so frightening, but it still cost every one of them an inner struggle. Nothing I can say would apply to all. It's a different experience each time."
"Good," said Atreyu. "Then at least it's possible to go through this Magic Mirror Gate?"
"Oh yes, of course it's possible, or it wouldn't be a gate. Where's your logic, my boy?"
"But it's also possible to go around it," said Atreyu. "Or isn't it?"
"Yes indeed," said Engywook. "Of course it is. But if you do that, there's nothing more behind it. The third gate isn't there until you've gone through the second."

That scene in The Neverending Story where Atreyu winds up in front of the magic mirror, fearful of what he might see within his reflection has always scared me tremendously. Ever since I was a young child, I feared that if I were to step up and do the same thing, what I would see in the mirror image would be absolutely horrifying.

I am afraid of who I am. There are so many negative aspects to my personality that I often feel like a selfish and bratty monster. It’s not like that all of the time. But whenever I mull over the events of my life, I can’t help but feel a resounding sense of regret for a great many things that I have said or done. I do not make friends easily. It’s even harder to keep them. I am inherently lazy. I am brutally honest when I shouldn’t be. I have very few successes, awards or talents to my name. The debris from my life that lies all around me is covered with mounting and painful regrets.

But one thing lately that I have not regretted is this blog. It is by no one’s standard a success- except to me. I have never been able to keep a diary for longer than a week. I’ve often found my understanding of the English language (a language I’ve spoken my whole life) to be woefully inadequate. I hate grammar and spelling. I think far better and easier than I write (and speak for that matter). I have trouble expressing the way that I feel on the inside, the things that I imagine, the worlds that I dream, concepts that I intuitively embrace without being able to back up with proper thought and reason. Sometimes I wonder if I have some sort of “articulation dyslexia”. I can think just fine but when it comes to forming words in my mouth and sentences through my fingers, I often get it jumbled. So I never gave much thought to finding one particular place to leave a record of what I experienced. It didn’t seem like it could be a positive endeavor for me.

I started this blog mainly to keep in touch with my friends and family back home in the Midwest. I also wanted a log of my weight loss, which was quickly becoming a successful venture for me. The photographs happened later on by pure chance and they not only changed the way I saw the world, but the way I saw myself as well. Eventually I got over my fear of sharing myself here and I began to reveal private things that I was going through or had experienced in my life. Through that process I found that I was changing. I was evolving into a “better” person. And I had audience to watch it unfold.

When I realized my audience was growing, and I had a handful of friends and family stopping by on an almost daily basis, I began to wonder what they would think about something I might say or post here. This blog became less and less anonymous and I began to feel as if I was insulting people left and right whenever I expressed something that they didn’t like. Some people said I couldn’t possibly be an atheist, for it didn’t match with what they knew of me. Some felt that I was sharing too much of my life here- intimate details that weren’t fit for print (never mind that they always returned the next day for an update). For a time I contemplated going back to the bare bones of just my photographs and their titles. No more sharing. But something in me said that just wasn’t right.

In a recent conversation regarding the content of my blog, I realized that I upset someone, whether they admit to it or not. It wasn’t my intention to do so, (and it never is any time that I post something here), but whenever it does happen (and lately it seems like this happens more and more), I find out just a little bit more about myself and the people in my life. This latest round helped me to see the man behind the curtain who had previously been disguised as a powerful Wizard. That may sound like a negative response on my part, but in reality it’s just a clearer understanding of another human being as they truly exist.

I do like discovering different levels of understanding that can happen between myself and another person when we share with one another, however the process is often painful and not always successful. Or at least, it doesn't have an easy and definable outline of immediate achievement. I’m still learning what the proper amount of personal stuff is that I can safely share with another human being without being judged too harshly. I have times where I feel completely open to share whatever and times where I’m so tightly closed up that nothing can get through. My blog archives illustrate this with the months of silence, the summer of a thousand photographs and the gradual emergence of my true self, the long posts of my latest failed relationship, and the recent (mostly) deliberate absence of photographs in favor of many FOW (found on the web) items and links. It is a back and forth struggle that I find is difficult to maintain and difficult to reflect on.

The point that I’m trying to make is that I can’t be myself here any longer. I can’t be who I am and who I am becoming in front of an audience of people that know me personally. I may not have the luxury of choosing to hide in real life, but I am able to do that online. So I’m exercising my option and going anonymous.

I can't and won't stop writing in a blog and posting my photographs. Where I am headed, I do not know. But one thing is for sure, recording it for my personal benefit is significantly helpful to my personal journey. Getting it all down on paper (or webpage as the case may be) is helping in surprising ways. When I can look back and review my thoughts from a couple months ago, or even a couple of years, I find that I have a tangible measure of success for myself simply because I am paying attention to what’s going on in my head and in my life. Intuitively I know that I’m doing something right in documenting as much of this journey as possible and letting it become a Neverending Story for myself. So for now, I am going to continue to record the story in a quiet corner of the web where I don't have to worry about sharing so much with everyone else.

Guess which one I'm doing for my birthday!

2006-04-13T18:31:00.000-07:00

Why Should I Be Anyone But Me… Especially When I’m Around You?

2006-04-06T08:10:00.000-07:00

Someone I know does not have a good relationship with one of his/her parents. Sadly, if I chose not to elaborate on that sentence, it could describe several people in my life right now, including me. Some of my friends are recovering from abusive parental relationships. Some are dealing with the effects of an absent parent or mostly absent one. Many are coping with divorce and step-family issues. Everyone finds that the relationship they have with their parent has impacted certain key aspects of their life- living arrangements, major life choices, wedding etiquette, significant relationship preferences… the list goes on and on.

As I continue on my journey of self-discovery, learning that it’s good to fully realize who I am as a person and share that with others in my life, I find it shocking that some people can not be themselves around their parents and I’m appalled when they hide much of their true identity. It seems rather counterintuitive to be someone else around family members that should accept you no matter what (and yes, I know I should take into account the fact that many people are dysfunctional and just because they are card carrying members of a particular family unit doesn’t automatically make them saints… or even respectable people! But that’s how it should be and it’s always nice to work towards an ideal, even a far-fetched one at that). I’ve had certain unacceptable behaviors and events relayed to me over the years and its just shocking that these people don’t stand up for what they know is right- whether that be to an alcoholic parent, an abusive relationship, a controlling and judgmental relative, or even a racist or homophobic mind-set. It’s sad what we let happen when we don’t stand up for ourselves.

One person I know in particular can’t be himself around his mother. And it’s such a travesty. I say that because he is an incredible person with a great many talents. He does a lot of good in this world, sometimes just by being himself and letting others learn from his subtle example. To have to hide certain things about himself, characteristics that represent the absolute best parts of his personality, seems like a double tragedy. Not only is he faking who he is around her, but he’s faking it around himself too. I wish I could inspire him the way he inspires me to be my true self. Perhaps he’d stand up more to unwarranted criticism and disapproval from her.

Of course, I say all this in the midst of my own family issues. Ever since this whole polymory thing went down, my relationship with my father has been terribly strained. We don’t really speak to each other these days. He didn’t agree with my views and my choices and I didn’t think I needed to justify my true self to him. More so than any other time in my life, my right path and my right self is coming into a much clearer focus. I’m not going to switch lens to please someone else when I recognize that I’m finally getting somewhere. And I find it all highly ironic. He can’t understand that these changes I’ve made are making me a better person all around. They are making me the person I’ve always aspired to be- the person that I would want others to be proud of. How can something so good be such a disappointment to someone else? My mother says that he’s proud of me but it’s incredibly difficult for me to see that. And it’s hard for me to accept this conditional pride that he has based on only a few pieces and accomplishments of my life. If I were the parent, I would love myself completely and I would be proud of the strides that I’m making across the board. I don’t understand this inability to appreciate how wondrous it is when someone is learning to love themselves and make a better life for themselves. What is so wrong with me that he can’t just love and trust me to do what is intuitively right for me? It breaks my heart. But ultimately as a result, it teaches me how not to raise my own child someday.

The snow goose need not bathe to make itself white. Neither need you do anything but be yourself. –quoted from Lao-tzu

What is it About a Broken Heart That Brings Out the Absolute Worst Clichés?!?

2006-03-29T08:51:00.000-08:00

I don't feel like talking to anyone right now because I keep hearing all the pat responses that people feel obligated to say when someone's heart is crushed:

Love will come when you least expect it

You must love yourself before anyone else will

'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.

I so totally disagree with this one. It isn't all that bad to have never loved at all. You won't know what you're missing!

Time heals all wounds
But only after it pours gallons of salt in first.

Every storm cloud has a silver lining

And that's something to look forward to after you've been electrocuted by lightning?

There are plenty of other fish in the sea

That which does not kill us makes us stronger

Tomorrow is a new day
...To wake up and remember all over again why you're so depressed in the first place!

Some day your prince will come/ You’ll find your pot of gold at the end of the rainbow
But how many leprechauns do I have to kiss first?

Live and learn
And get bitten in the ass over and over and over again...

Look before you leap

Love is blind
And deaf. And dumb. Perhaps even profoundly retarded.

That’s the way the cookie crumbles

You are better off without them

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade
Can I add vodka to my lemonade? Actually, can I just skip the lemonade part all together and go straight for the vodka?

You made your bed, now you have to lay in it.

You’re damned if you do, damned if you don’t
Ain't dat da truth!

So if I seem a bit withdrawn, it's not because I don't want to talk to you. It's really because I don't want to hear the same advice over and over again. I'm hurting. I’m depressed. It sucks. And the dopey clichés just don't help at the moment. Don’t take it personally.

Quote O' The Day

2006-03-28T07:20:00.000-08:00

“When you're a pessimist, you're rarely ever disappointed. You expect the worst to happen and if it doesn't, then you're pleasantly surprised. But if what you expected actually occurs, well then you were just plain right all along.”

-A.M. Sutherland

Who Says I Can't Do That?

2006-03-27T16:15:00.000-08:00

I may be in a lotta pain right now and pissed at the whole freaking world and the supposed heavens above but there's no reason that I can't buy the skinniest pair of jeans (and cheapest- $10!) I've ever owned and belly dance in them all Sunday afternoon!

I soooooooo needed that too.

It was nice to have that little voice in my head change tunes for a while and whisper "I feel sexy" in my ears. I spent the whole day in my living room, doing chores, wiggling my ass off, and watching TV in these jeans. I really didn't want to take them off. I'm even wearing them to work today too. They're just that hot.

I'm so shallow and I couldn't give a flippin’ fudge at this very second.

But hey, as an almost former fat girl, I should get a bit of a break now and then. Since I've had no appetite the last two weeks, I've lost 8 lbs. That brings my grand total to 68.5. Still, a part of me would gladly give up the skinny jeans and be a happy fat chick if I was able to remain in a perpetually blissful state of love...

The New Namesake

2006-03-24T14:25:00.000-08:00

Dan Eldon, 1970-1993

His journals left behind are an awe-inspiring and visually stunning study of a single life and soul that didn't ever let go.

A Return to Margaritaville

2006-03-20T08:15:00.002-08:00

There was a time, not so long ago, when I was profoundly depressed. I was in a school program that I found dull, I was living in filth, I was treating my body as if it was a never ending shell and I filled it full of food from morning until night. I couldn't live the way that I was, but there didn't seem a way out.

At one point during those years, I was given a school assignment to complete. I created a small vacation home that was just for me. I named it after one of my favorite songs that always helped me through the day. I spent a ton of time on this place, thinking of every detail, living and breathing the spaces whenever I could fly away to that dream place. It was set in one of the most pleasant places I could think of- The Carolina Coast- where the sand was warm and the stars reflected on the water throughout the night. It was my space to retreat to. It was a very original design and I would have received an A if I'd actually done the required presentation.

After the class was over, my project expanded. The 900 square feet morphed into more than 3,000 and then to 6,000+ total square feet. I began taking bits and pieces of design elements I was exposed to and adding them to this home. I had a three wall sliding glass door in the living space, a Spanish tiled kitchen, a Japanese garden/courtyard surrounded on four sides by bedrooms and other retreat areas, red clay tiles on the roof, a stylistic office to one side done in the Frank Lloyd Wright Unitarian style, a large patio with a kiln for wheel pottery, and a generous oceanfront view. There were thousands upon thousands of details within this house. It became a 3d space that showcased my favorite architecture.

I lived in that space whenever reality was too much for me to bear. When I had to go to the dentist and they’d stick that awful drill in my mouth, I’d run to Margaritaville. When I had a rotten day, I fell asleep dreaming of adventures there. I spent hours and hours there in both my waking life and dream time.

No one was ever at Margaritaville with me. There were no spouses, no children, and no loved ones to ever visit me there. I was alone. Even when I tried to fit someone there, an ex boyfriend for instance, they never seemed to fill the space right with me. I was never sure why.

Last year, I met two people who forever changed my life. I don’t need to revisit the history, as it is available all over this blog. These two people helped crack the ice that surrounded my inner self and they let all of the things out, thawing the best of me that I’d been keeping inside. I felt nearly whole and it was a joyous time. At some point, I realized that I had abandoned Margartitaville in favor of living in the real world near these two people. It dawned on me that it was the building, the site itself that was the problem and not the people that I couldn’t place there.

I’m not going into details about recent events but suffice it to say that I have gambled and lost big-time.

I packed my bags this last week and today I retreated to Margaritaville as I prefer to sleep instead of living in the state that I have found myself in. But the place I have come home to is no longer the same. The buildings are in ruin. The materials that were used throughout the retreat have aged considerably, as if the whole place had been built centuries ago. I stand in the middle of this mess and I don’t know how to put it back together again. I can’t make sense of anything to begin rebuilding it. But I can’t leave either. As I figure out how to rebuild this fantasy world, I have set up a temporary lean-to, and I spend as much time as possible wandering along the beach and listening to the wind blow through the pines near the shore. Sleep is a blissful relief, even when there is no where to go.

It is with great pain...

2006-03-20T06:17:00.000-08:00

that I am announcing that I have two separate people in my life who are giving me the silent treatment. One has ignored me for 7 days, the other for close to 90. Some days are tolerable like this (as I don't have to face these people minute by minute and be treated to the joys of a visual silent treatment). Some days I let the anger take over. Some days resentment kicks in and I wonder how I'll ever be able to forgive.

Although we all know what those two words together mean, I thought I'd take a second and post a common definition here:

siÂ·lent treatÂ·ment

noun
Definitions:

period of deliberately not communicating: a prolonged spell of refusing to communicate as a way of expressing contempt, anger, disapproval, or some other negative emotion ( informal )

Here's what the silent treatment says to me, personally:

You are not worth my time, my energy, my respect and my love. I have no loyalty to you. I'd prefer not to know you. I shall ignore you like I ignore dirt on the ground. You are not any more important than that dirt. You are not a human being as far as I'm concerned and so I shall not treat you as if you exist with any emotions.

I'm not going to lie to all of you. I have used the silent treatment in the past when communicating my displeasure or anger over something. Sometimes it is intentional, sometimes it is not. I have come to realize that there are very few people in my life that I would want to ignore in such a manner because it is such a cruel way to treat another person. I have learned that if I want to change something or even if I want to communicate, I have to do so with words (even if they are strong at times). To ignore someone is to deny them a place in your life and in your heart. It's really just that simple.

I Don't Feel Like Being Nice

2006-03-16T07:21:00.000-08:00

The fire in my belly is raging on today
if I ignore it, it’ll only get worse
and I don't feel like being nice and kind and happy.

The pain is reaching unbearable heights
there's no extinguishing it right now
and I don't have to apologize to no one.

I am not responsible for others, only myself
I cannot and do not have to be perfect
and it's not all my fault.

I am a human being with feelings and
I deserve more that I am getting
regardless of whether you want me here or not.

I'm doing my very best
and if that's not good enough
then tough, there is nothing else I can or have to do.

Timberline Lodge Interiors

2006-03-15T13:25:00.000-08:00

When can I say uncle?

2006-03-13T13:50:00.000-08:00

Unlike Ghost Dog, I have a billion and one things to gripe about today. I'm supposed to counteract his rant but I don't have the strength today.

Monday's suck.

They just suck.

And there's no way to get around it.

2006-03-12T00:56:00.000-08:00

Pommie

If I Hear One More Word About Posting Too Many Pet Pictures....

2006-03-10T17:07:00.000-08:00

There Now, That's Much Better!

2006-03-10T16:05:00.000-08:00

I'd written an email a while back to explain to someone how you fix the blogger pictures to make them the size you want. I recently found that email and Voila! I am back to normal. Now you can enjoy my pictures the way I intended.

Also heads up, I just attended the UO rally to support the women of South Dakota and my initial assessment is that I got a couple of great shots. I'll be sharing them next week.

February at Timberline Lodge

2006-03-09T07:00:00.000-08:00

So You Had A Bad Day

2006-03-08T15:30:00.000-08:00

So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
You had a bad day
You've seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day
You had a bad day

-Bad Day by Daniel Powter

When I went to bed last night, I was fighting a mild case of melancholy. I was sick and tired of all the alone time, tired of the highly inadequate and frustratingly garbled phone calls that I endure, and tired of constantly waiting for the next time when I will be held. I didn’t think that the ‘lonelies’ were going to last thru the night and into my morning, but they caught me off guard and roared with a vengeance when I spent yet another few minutes on the phone this morning with poor reception threatening the call, my bad ears struggling to hear, and the announcement that plans for the weekend were changing. It is quickly turning into a bad day.

As someone whose cell phone is permanently glued to her head, I hate being partially deaf whenever the reception isn't optimum (and with cell phones, we all know that's almost all the time). I also hate my new cell phone because the one place it doesn’t work is my apartment, which is ironic considering who I have as a carrier. And as a Taurus, I hate when plans change. Change is bad, nkay, and it gives me a headache.

But being in a poly relationship is all about compromise and going with the flow. So I’m going to have to learn to live in this manner. Otherwise, I’m totally screwed.

I suppose I could combat the ‘lonelies’ at night by buying one of these ‘Boyfriend’s Arm’ pillows ( and judging from the picture, it is only half of a body... that's all I'm really asking for much of the time). But I’d have to hide it in the back of the closet any time someone came over since as far as I’m concerned it seems to be almost on par with a blowup doll!

When I'm lonely, it often feels as if I’m the only person going through this polyamory thing. I search the crowds, bookstores and the internet for someone else who knows what it’s like to be a (future?) secondary in a poly relationship. Sometimes the bookstores are helpful, but more often then not, I find what does not apply to me, over and over and over again. I truly feel for women that grow up in these disgusting and oppressive households. When asked whether I think polygamy should be legalized, I often stop and think about my response. Sure I’d love be able to legally marry the love of my life. However, if it means that polygamy allows the misogynistic culture of some subgroups to thrive, then my little legal piece of paper comes at a great sacrifice. And I’m simply not willing to do that others. When I think of polyamory and polygamy, I think of Consensual Adult Relationships. If you don’t have all three, then it isn’t appropriate and it isn’t meant for anyone. Period (Besides, there's already a tee-shirt out there for me and I'd be happy with that).

I find it futile to speak to friends and family. Sure they love me. Sure they are there for me but I don't know how they can truly help me since they don't fully understand. Once when I was having a bad day and I relayed my frustrations about various aspects of my hectic life to a person close to me, I made the mistake of going on about this budding relationship. Their response to me was that I wouldn't have all these problems if I just left this sticky relationship behind. Okay... Um, let me try and explain how much that hurt and how ridiculous it sounds by this example: My best friend in getting married. Not only that but she's also applying to a dozen law schools, moving in with her fiancé, and her cat just died. When she talks about the financial aspects of the wedding or how difficult the planning is going to be over the next 18 months, I sit and sympathize with her. I would never, NEVER tell her that she wouldn't have all these problems if she simply called the wedding off. Because you just don’t do that. No one is supposed to think like that. And no one should ever say that to someone. So why it’s acceptable to say something like that to me, I just don’t know *shrugs*.

So far, the one place that I found to be extremely helpful is Ilada's Polygrrl blog. I look forward to every post she shares about her life with the polyamorous couple Margo and Wayne. She's honest and funny and heartfelt with everything she writes. And it all hits so incredibly close to home, each and every single time:

“I was so upset that he was sleeping and I was standing here wide awake with the whole day in front of me. This was our time. How could he waste it like this? How many Sundays do we get when it is just us and nobody else? I was naked baking cookies in the kitchen on a sunny Sunday morning for god's sake!! When will I be able to pull that off again? Months? Years? And he could have been there with me, but nooooooooooooooo! Instead, he was wasting our precious, precious time snoring away!... To me, every second alone with Wayne is gold. It is something tangible that I can hold. I am ravenous for that time and when I have it I want every single second to be used. But is that realistic? Am I the poor kid who gets handed a twenty and thinks I have to spend it all right here, right now?”

-Ilada, October 2005

I know exactly what she’s talking about. It seems like there are just a few precious moments that I get to spend with my Loved One. When I’m near him, I can’t think straight. I hate to sleep because it’s a waste of time when there are too many other worthwhile things I could be doing instead. When I spend the night at their house, I often have restless and fevered sleep that I suffer through in order to make it to morning. I spend it close to them, yet still far away. The frustration level is always high on those nights. But I suffer through because it seems necessary.

I hate to be another item on my Loved One’s agenda, something else he has to find time for. I don’t like to make demands and I don’t like to be a burden. And I absolutely hate feeling as if anyone has to pencil me in anywhere on their schedule. But sometimes I feel like the poly situation demands that and it causes more trouble than its worth. Another thing that compounds the issue is his illness which (thankfully) has only one major side effect causing him to wear out more easily than the average person. He needs more down time than most people but he doesn’t get nearly enough. And I feel as if I’m asking too much of him and getting in the way when I fret about not having enough time to be near him. He knows his limits but sometimes he compromises them in order to make those around him happy. I try to tell him that I’d be much happier having him around this world longer at the expense of not seeing him as often. At least I know he’s here, even if its not next to me.

“...Culturally, my role in their lives is unacceptable. So, I am sometimes hidden or forced to pretend I am something that I am not. Having to do this underscores the unspoken… When I am placed in that position, I feel a dull ache in the pit of my stomach and it throbs threatening to overtake me. It takes so much to smile and play the family friend. It hurts to see Margo and Wayne hold hands and snuggle and know that I cannot do those things. I have to sit and watch from a bubble that keeps Wayne at a distance. And when it is alone time again and I am allowed to show my affection, it becomes difficult. The bubble that started off thin and fragile hardens and becomes this barrier that has to be broken.”

-Ilada, February 2006

I know that bubble all too well. I read a short story one time about a man who was married to a very beautiful woman but he couldn't get near her because she was frightened and terribly inhibited. When he spoke to his Rabbi about his frustrations, he said that being married to her was like "floating through heaven in a bubble made of hell". That's exactly what this life is like sometimes. I love to be out at their home, with them as much as possible. There is an overabundance of life spilling out all around them every single second of the day. I love the energy and the chaos of it all. I love to experience new things with them. I love just sitting quietly listening to all the sounds that the household makes- dog paws on the linoleum, kids scurrying for juice and snacks, the unmistakable sound of wallball being played in a bedroom, the endless loop of Spongebob SquarePants episodes, the beautiful, albeit sometimes choppy sounds of a piano being practiced, the murmurs of happy cats bounding about, the rustling of quilling paper… there is always something going on and I never feel alone when I’m at their house. Yet, as wonderful as it all is, I can’t fully enjoy it because I feel as if I’m at an unspoken distance. I am the stranger. I am the weekend guest. I am simply The Friend.

I am waiting with bated breath to be accepted into a multitude of roles that I want to fill. In the meantime, I have to hide how I feel. I have to hold my hands in my pockets rather than reach for someone’s warm fingers. I have to be careful about what I say or do in public. I turn my head when he leans in to kiss her because I know I’m not going to get the same. I have to go on with my separate life here and pray that they will remember to share just a few daily moments with me when the weekend comes. It feels like a heartbreaking existence now and then and when these bad days sneak up on me, I feel at a loss as to how to deal. But I keep one foot in front of the other, moving forward, even when it feels like I'm stepping backwards because I can't imagine my life without them. I just can't imagine it any other way.

Untitled

2006-03-08T06:55:00.000-08:00

I'm Learning to Like Mondays

2006-03-07T11:01:00.000-08:00

Well... kinda.

Actually, I've decided to start writing down something good that happens at the beginning of each week as a response to Ghost Dog's new TMG. I understand and empathize with his frustrations of shitty things that happen on Mondays that make the day that much worse. My initial reaction was to join in and bitch along.

But then I wondered, how easy would it be to find something nice about every Monday and would that do anything for my overall attitude? Because it's not hard to turn around in the cubicle and find myself face to face with a nasty coworker or have a customer cuss me out for not giving them 31 days to make their payment and consider it on time or even coming home at the end of a long day to a house full of dirty dishes, laundry, and soap scum, just waiting all night for my Bewitched powers to kick in. All that stuff just happens on a Monday, making it the suckiest sucky day of the week. So if I took just a few minutes and found a happy moment of my day to reflect on, could I turn the negativity of the start of the week around?

It’s worth a shot.

My happy moment was a late lunch consisting of Campbell’s Select Gold Label Butternut Squash soup. It was some damn fine stuff, regardless of what this guy says. Piping hot, it was a creamy, dreamy, affordable lunch that would have only been made better by some Snackwell’s cracked pepper crackers. And while there was that underlying unmistakable icky Campbell’s taste, it was only slightly detectible once the soup cooled down. For a few minutes on Monday afternoon, I forgot that I was stuck in a cheaply constructed cubicle, slaving away in a cheaply constructed office building, taking phone calls from customers that make me wonder how they even manage to get themselves dressed in the morning, waiting for the clock to strike the magical hour when I can rush home to my cheaply constructed apartment and have the convenience that comes from living in the wealthiest, yet most self absorbed country in the world to be able to watch the Oscar’s fashion recap on no less than three separate channels on some severely overpriced cable television. This little bowl of soup was the equivalent of some Calgon and I was happy to have it.

I suppose if I practice this exercise for several more weeks, I will eventually find more things about Monday to cheer about.

Let's hope so...

Queen Pom Pom

2006-03-06T15:30:00.000-08:00

One Step Closer To Cool

2006-03-05T09:40:00.000-08:00

I bought my first crushed velvet blazer today at Goodwill for $2.50. The blazer is an XL with a nice and soft tailored cut around the middle. It goes great with a pair of jeans and spankin' leather boots. The style looks a heck of a lot like this:

I am now that much closer to my version of cool. This is also proof positive that I can never truly be a Buddhist. I'm way too materialistic and conceited to reach enlightenment. Of course if enlightenment doesn't have crushed velvet, why try to attain it?

I'm In Love With You But...

2006-03-05T09:00:00.000-08:00

You're not worth $45.00. That's a week and a half of groceries for me. I'll pine away for you, I promise, but this just wasn't meant to be. I hope you understand that you're just way out of my league financially.

Can we be friends though?

As long as being friends means that I never have to see you out on the town, hanging on someone else's body, making me jealous with every soft sway of your delectable fabric and Asian inspired design, willing me to reach out and finger your sash or shed a tear for the low line of your v-neck collar... That way, I'll never know what I'm missing.

Mollie The Collie

2006-03-04T09:00:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Sorry about the small size. I'm having computer and program issues at the moment. I need to find a computer somewhere that will let me download Picasa and Hello and allow me to enlarge the size of my photographs. I'm sort of stuck relying on friends' computers and school for now.

In the meantime, you'll have to view the larger size by clicking on the photo.

There's a plot in there somewhere...

2006-02-28T09:10:00.000-08:00

But I don't seem to notice as I'm incredibly distracted by the style of Jennifer Love Hewitt's character on CBS's Ghost Whisperer. Sure the premise is interesting, with spooky apparitions, untimely deaths and do-gooder morals all neatly wrapped up in a one hour show on the generally boring Friday night network lineup. But all that doesn’t really compare to the luscious and funky vintage clothing that is prominently featured. If I were a size 0, I'd so be wearing crushed velvet jackets, empire style dresses, and peasant tops just like her. The only thing I would avoid is the heavy doe-eyed look that is achieved with obviously fake eyelashes. Her promotional pictures don’t rely on the distracting ones that are used in the show so you have to tune in to see what I mean. On the other hand, her hair is divine and whatever they use- extensions, wigs, or a really good volumizer- makes it an appropriate accessory for everything she’s dressed in.

She is my new style idol.

(On a side note, the opening credits feature a fantastic and surreal dream collage style sequence done by Digital Kitchen Studios. You can view the clip at their website. It’s interesting to note that they have done the opening credits for House, Six Feet Under, Nip/Tuck, the über cool Jade Empire video game, and the newest Sundance Film Festival spots. Their style reminds me of the opening sequence to the brilliant HBO show Carnivàle, which you can still view here.
The show's cancellation was a tremendous blow to superior television programming and I’m still grieving to this day. How did a show about Tarot, the Dust Bowl and Depression, carnival freaks, supernatural psychic phenomenon and demonic forces somehow get left by the wayside after an unsatisfying 24 episodes? I’ll never know. But I'm pretty sure that Ghost Whisperer isn't going to suffer the same fate- the writing and acting are simply no match to Carnivàle. This show isn't going anywhere anytime soon. Of course, I'm not a TV exec, so what do I know?)

Technorati Tags: Ghost Whisperer, Digital Kitchen, Carnivale

A Troublesome Dream

2006-02-23T08:25:00.000-08:00

My dream on Sunday night is still bothering me a few days later. I don’t know quite how to interpret it and I worry about the negative connotations that it potentially could have since the symbols within the dream tend to lead me in a certain direction (I'm sure Alder will scold me for saying that).

Alder and I were traveling home to my parent’s house in Madison and it was late at night. We came up Highway 55 and turned to reach my childhood neighborhood from the wrong way. We passed a large apartment building under construction. There were still wood boards hastily attached where railings on the balconies should be. The roof was partially done with several holes still needing to be patched and I could see the night sky and stars through some of those holes. The building was rather large and out of place for the surrounding neighborhood; it was four or five stories compared to mostly one story ranch homes that populated the area. As we rounded the corner, I could see a small fire gaining strength in one of the upper story apartments. The strange thing was that I couldn’t actually see the fire, only the appropriate and distinctive shadow that its flames made as they flickered against the side of the building. It was like an impression of a fire or something, not the actual event. Nevertheless, I told Alder that we needed to stop and call in a report to 911. But he drove right past and ignored me. I repeated myself with more urgency but his only response was “don’t worry about it”. I was totally miffed that he would blatantly ignore this very serious matter and I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket. “We need to call 911!” I shouted. “I said, DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT!" He screamed. "Someone ELSE will call it in; we need to get to your parent’s house. It’s VERY LATE (he gestured to the large green digital clock on the car’s dashboard) and I’m EXTREMELY TIRED!” And that completely pissed me off. Once we reached the intersection just before my parents house and Alder made his way slowly around a new roundabout that had been constructed there (there isn’t one there in real life), I jumped out of the car and dropped the cell phone, shattering it in the process. I crossed the street in a huff and walked back up the sidewalk towards the apartment building, stomping my heels loudly on the concrete. They made loud clicking echoes in the silent night air. He was nice enough to turn the car around and come after me, calling to me from the car to get back in, that he was sorry, that he’ll dial 911 right now. But the damage was done; I couldn’t believe how selfish he was being and how uncharacteristically rude he was to me. I was bound and determined to get this fire reported but I didn’t get to call 911 because Alder woke me up in real life by crawling in next to me in the guest bed and wrapping his arms around me. I lay there for a minute extremely confused. Why was I letting him near me after his complete lack of respect for me and for the situation? But the urgency of the dream quickly faded as my eyes adjusted to light and I remembered where I was.

I don’t like the fire, or the fact that it wasn’t a fire but an impression of a fire. I don’t like his reaction to my own reactions. I don’t like that I can’t easily interpret this episode but it leaves me with an unsettling feeling. Doesn't fire usually signal danger or death? The apartment building isn't complete, it's still being built. Could that be our bond to one another somehow? Are the holes in the building a good or bad thing? Why was I so concerned about something I couldn't completely see but intuitively knew was still there? Is this a relationship issue or something else? Hmm...

Technorati Tags: dreams

Are you crying? ARE YOU CRYING? There's no crying, there's no crying in skiing!

2006-02-20T19:01:00.000-08:00

Ski rentals, lift ticket, and hot cocoa: $0
(because I was adopted by Alder's family for the day)

Two nights of lodging minutes from Mt Hood: $0
(because Alder is a lawyer and he has connections!)

All the ibuprofen, hugs, and sympathy I could ask for: $0

Being pushed beyond my personal comfort zone, way past my physical limits, crying and blubbering halfway through my skiing lesson, and ending up sliding down the bunny hill on my butt in front of everyone: priceless

There are some things money just can’t buy.

For everything else, I have a charming family to take care of me. And there was a lot of that happening this last weekend. I went skiing at Mount Hood Meadows. I actually made it down the Buttercup run about three or four times before collapsing in a fit of tears and begging that someone help me down the rest of the way to the comforting yuppie-filled lodge. After 5 hours and endless cycle of falling down, getting back up, skiing two feet and falling down again, I had enough. I was using muscles that I didn’t know existed. I mistakenly thought I was only going skiing for the day but little did I know that to my body, it would feel like I was rollerblading, hiking, doing countless pushups and sit-ups, and other strenuous activities that shall *ahem* remain nameless all in the same day. By the end of it all, I could barely move. Thank goodness my companions- Alder, The Wife, and Bubble Boy- didn’t judge me too harshly. They all had to learn to ski at one time or another too so I’m pretty sure I got some genuinely sympathetic hugs and encouragement when I bawled like a baby.

The next time I go, I will be in better shape to deal with the difficulties that a newbie skier faces. I’ll know what I’m in for. I’ll know that it’s normal to fall down for the umpteenth time even after I thought I’d mastered the basics. And I’ll know that I’m only a relatively small hill away from a warm drink- with or without the alcohol- depending on how the ski lesson is going....

I'm comforted knowing I'm not the only one

2006-02-15T07:15:00.000-08:00

Miss Fish, here, talks about the sound that her heartbeat makes when she's falling asleep. She says it sounds like soldiers marching. And I agree with her. When I was a child, I used to be terrified of going to sleep. For a few years as an adolescent, I needed glasses but I didn't know it. At night, my eyes would try to focus in the dark but they constantly moved in and out of fuzzy focus. As a consequence, everything in my room either moved or looked like it was breathing. I used to imagine all sorts of things waiting in the dark for me to fall asleep. One of those items was a large white toy box with soldiers on the sides. These soldiers all stood at attention with sharp bayonets raised high. This toy chest was located in the basement in the romper room and at night, because I could hear my heartbeat thumping over and over, it wasn’t hard to imagine these soldiers marching up the stairs towards my bedroom. I imagined these little one and a half foot tall men marching with wooden legs, mean sneers, and bloody bayonets. They never made it to my door, but that didn’t stop me from being afraid.

I was such a weird kid. As further proof, my favorite movies when I was five were Flash Gordon, The Dark Crystal and Stephen King’s Children of the Corn. At five, I remember being instinctively drawn to that particular horror movie with its premise that children killed their parents (and anyone over the age of 16) and tried to run a small Kansas town all by themselves with some supernatural psycho religion overseeing everything. My father finally taped over the movie, claiming that it was a bad influence, but the damage had already been done because I had memorized every scene and could reenact it playing any part. I read almost everything else King had written by the time I reached high school.

Even though I try to read and watch as much horror as possible and the toy chest is long gone, the thumping never went away and to this day, I'm still afraid of the dark.

In my mansion of memory, this will hold court in the Japanese garden

2006-02-13T16:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes when I'm out on a stroll, I like zero in on a particular sight, scent, or other moment tied to one of the senses and memorize everything thing I can about it so that later on I can recall it quickly when I’m having a bad day or when I just need a second to peacefully relax. What follows is a recording of the important details I recall from Sunday’s walk:

The way the water flowed naturally in and out of deep ridges cut over several centuries in the rock floor along the beach.

The outline of that perfectly balanced rock you fashioned on the cliff and the way it stood against the backdrop of the sky.

The soothing rhythm of the Kalapuya drum and the way your wrist bounced back and forth.

The wide ringlets in your hair that shone beneath the February sun and seductively called to me.

The smell of your hair as I buried my nose in the back of your neck.

My Sentiments Exactly

2006-02-10T17:13:00.000-08:00

from Pictures Of Walls

One true love? I only get one?!? Valentine's Day and Polyamory

2006-02-09T09:00:00.000-08:00

I had a few minutes in between classes & work last week and I ended up spending it in front of the daunting display of Valentine’s Day cards at the store. Leave it to polyamory to make even the simplest task of card shopping incredibly difficult! Cards that use phrases like "be my true valentine" or "my heart belongs only to you" are simply out from the start. As is “there will never be anyone else but you.” Um, I can’t guarantee that… but I can say there is no one else like you in the world and my love for you is distinctly unique! What IS wrong with loving more than one person? What's wrong with expressing love for those multiple relationships? If everyone involved is a consenting adult (emphasis on the consenting and the adult part), why is this so wrong?!? Why did society decide this was the acceptable norm over dating one person and moving from relationship to relationship over and over again? I don't get what the big deal is.

Now let me say this: I’ve never been one for the “wordy” cards. You know the kind- the front page is filled with a paragraph or long verse, and on the inside, there are several paragraphs on either side. Sometimes these cards even have multiple pages that could be considered a small novelette. I’ve always preferred to write my own message even when I do find a card that expresses my exact sentiments. I just like to be personal. Polyamory has only reiterated that fact- I just have to pay close attention to what I’m saying and how I say it.

So what I’ve ended up doing this Valentine’s Day is work on two very personal gifts that don’t have a Hallmark stamp on them. While one could say that I am forced to think outside the box when it comes to love sentiments, I consider it a blessed opportunity to declare how I feel about each person that I have romantic feelings for. It’s nice to have to face that degree of specificity and intention. They get two highly personalized valentine’s that are sincere and from my heart (and if they’re really, REALLY lucky, these valentines will include lots of macaroni, glitter, and crayon scribblings).

I’ve spoken to my Beloved and made my intentions clear that I wanted to acknowledge the holiday with both him and The Wife. The holiday falls during the regular work week and so it’s impossible to be around them on the actual day since we live 2 hours apart. So it was totally possible that the holiday could be ignored all together. I was worried about dealing with the day at all- I mean we aren’t exactly in a full on poly relationship yet as a triad- but I came to the conclusion that it just wouldn’t be fair to completely ignore it and essentially ignore my feelings as a result. I’m in love with him and I utterly adore her and it’s my right to express my affection to them even if many issues go unresolved at the moment. I only hope that we find an appropriate balance for the current situation.

In searching for some personal stories on the web about polyamory and Valentine’s Day I came across this excerpt from the San Francisco Bay Guardian, dated February 2004:

“Valentine's Day for the polyamorous is similar to Christmas for big families. One has to make sure to give each child a gift that is special and individualized and yet also feels equal to the gifts all the other children receive. Luckily for the polyamorous, though, all the myriad relationships they need to maintain are with adults. Unlike children, adults are occasionally coherent about communicating what they desire and generally will respond to disappointment without screaming, refusing to breathe, or running away from home. It may be hard to believe, but fully grown humans have the potential to behave in a mature fashion in [multiple] romantic relationships.” [oh, let’s hope so… although I haven’t tried the breath holding tactic yet. That just might work if I can actually turn my face blue! ]

Blogging the good stuff

2006-02-08T15:28:00.000-08:00

In no particular order this week,

I jumped on the scale for the first time in 3 months, was shocked that I hadn't gained but maybe 2 ounces, and resolved to return to a more healthy way of eating so I can hit my magic happy weight number in the next four months (that's 12 pounds and 8 ounces away).

I gave away one of my favorite purses to a coworker today. She's coveted this purple velvet Old Navy purse of mine since the first day I brought it to work. I don't use it very often; still it is one of my favorites. Yesterday, she asked me to bring it in so she could copy the pattern and make her own. On my way home, out of the blue, it dawned on me to just give her the purse. Impulsively I decided to do so and letting go felt so natural. It must be the budding Buddhist in me that wants to let go of material possessions and attachments. Sometimes less really is more.

My architecture quiz was returned to me and not only was my score above the undergraduate class average, but it also surpassed the graduate student’s scores too. I done good, real good.

I bought a dress at Goodwill for $4.49 (price tag listed publicly so the parents know I'm not buying frivolously). This is the first dress I've owned in ten years. I've always been afraid to wear dresses for fear of how wide they make my hips look. This new dress ain't half bad. I'm going to wear it this weekend, with a small amount of trepidation and be willing to deck anyone that laughs at me. Oh and did I mention that the dress is a large? I've never owned a dress without an X listed on the size tag before. EVER.

In a shocking turn of events, I impulsively went for a walk on Sunday. I am a slightly impulsive person but usually only when the activity appeals to the hedonist in me. Having a sudden urge to exercise? That’s a new one.

From My Cold, Dead Hands

2006-02-06T18:52:00.000-08:00

Alder Dear, that's the only way you're getting back your Pink Martini CD!

I must say that I was impressed by this local band's sophomore album. I had never heard of them before catching a couple snippets and pictures on fellow blogger sites. I loaned (loaned, borrowed, stole, whatever...) the album last weekend from Alder and it was the perfect background music to some bleak afternoons filled with nasty winter storms and an even nastier chest cold.

Why am I gay? Tons of Questions I’d only ask God after my third trip up to the altar for some Communion wine.*

2006-01-30T09:00:00.000-08:00

Hey God-

(Age 5)
Am I going to hell if I'd rather sit in the pews on Sunday eating Cheerios and spelling naughty words on my mom's calculator then try and pay attention to the Pastor drone on and on about junk I don't understand?

Is jumping on the bed allowed in heaven? It really should be since it's so much fun.

(Age 7)
Why are there no dinosaurs mentioned in the bible?

In Sunday school, we celebrate Jesus’ birth at Christmas and then his death only a few months later at Easter. What happens in between? How come there's no 7-year-old Jesus like me?

(Age 9)
I may only be 9-years-old but I'm pretty sure that making Jesus into a cartoon character just like Scooby-doo and the Smurfs is awfully confusing to some of us kids in Sunday school. Couldn't you talk to someone about that?

Can I have a real baby sister for Christmas? If not, can you get me a real Cabbage-Patch Kid instead?

Why does everyone think I should believe in you but you don't tell me to do so yourself?

(Age 12)
I'll get to see my pet rats in heaven, right?

Why do babies die?

There is no such thing as limbo. Why would anyone be so cruel to suggest a place to grieving parents?

Why does the bible do so much harm sometimes? Why didn’t you make it just a little more clear so we wouldn’t fight so much?

How come you don't answer my prayers?

You don't mind if I don't actually believe in you, right?

(Age 15)
Fess up, the Immaculate Conception was just a really heated make out session that led to third base, right? (Don't send me a nasty email or leave anonymous comments yelling at me on this one people. I'm just stating something that's crossed my mind that would somehow scientifically make sense to me. We all have our own theories and beliefs for things we can’t explain.)

Do you ever wish you could start over? I do that all the time when I'm playing Sim City. I just delete the old city and begin again from scratch or I neglect the old one and leave it rotting on some zip disk somewhere.

Why would women be punished with childbirth and menstruation for what Eve did?

Same topic: Why are women treated as property so often?

I'm pretty sure that woman was not created from man but everyone tries to tell me differently. What's the truth? How can you have a man exist without a woman to give birth to him first?

(Age 17)
I know I said I didn’t believe in you but I’ll change my mind if you don’t let Nate die from cancer. If you really cared, you’d make him healthy again.

My church is sooooo boring. Can you get an orchestra for the altar and teach the priest to sing like Frank Sinatra? Or can you get a set of drums, lasers, and pyrotechnics for a pre-sermon show?

If a person doesn't develop a conscience early in life and they become a serial killer, when they die will they be punished if they didn’t know that they did anything wrong? How can you punish someone who doesn't know the difference?

Don't you think you should tell the Pope to lighten up?

Why am I gay?

Why did you make me this way if so many people think that's a bad thing and automatically assume that I can change it?

(As an adult)
If I beg and plead not to be pregnant right now, will you still let me get pregnant later on?

I believe that many religious stories are created to explain the unexplainable, especially in historical times when our species did not have science as an alternative. So if we’re making up all these things and creating a religion around them, does that mean we made up you? Do you exist simply because we believe in you? Would you still be there if we stopped believing?

Why are religious icons always showing up on freeway walls, truck stop pancakes and Lay’s potato chips? If there was a message to be relayed to us, why not use more credible sources?

If good is supposed to win over evil all of the time, why is George Bush still president?

Hell is just a state of mind, right?

I can understand that for many years it was essential that humans populate the earth and have as many children as possible with the infanticide rate being as high as it was and all, but why haven't you made it clear that we're now running out of room here? Shouldn't you tell someone important that they need to press upon Catholic families that its time to stop having so many children? Especially if they can't afford to take care of all of them?

Is there something wrong with me since I can’t just blindly follow everyone else and just believe in you? Why do I have to question everything? Why didn’t I just accept what they told me as a child?
__________________________________________________________________
These questions represent a sample of random thoughts I have had about religion since I was old enough to remember. I still think many of them today- even though now I'm certainly old enough to know better (jumping on the bed is still fun today...'specially with other people in it).

I'm working on a post about religion but it's a bit overwhelming. I'm not sure what to say. I'm not sure what direction I'm going in. I'm not even sure if I need religion right now. All I know is that I had a dream recently where I was attending a wedding in a very old gothic country church but there were some irregularities to the scene. Instead of the pews all facing forward towards the altar, they were turned sideways with the ceremony happening on the right side of the church. There were two rows of pews, with an generous space for the aisle, and on the left side (the one closest to the actual altar) there was a huge wooden banister, with intricate carvings and incredibly smooth balustrades. The banister was cutting off the rest of the church from the pews. In fact, the seating was only taking up one-third of the church. I could see the altar, at the far end, just as it looked at my Lutheran church when I was a child. I and all the other parishioners could not reach the altar though. There was just empty space between the banister and the other end and no way around it. There was nothing there, no seats, no tables, absolutely nothing- just swirling black empty space. However, when I looked up, I could see the sunlight streaming in from the stained glass windows far above.

Needless to say, this dream screams of symbolism and begs for obvious interpretation. There is room in my life for religion. But I don’t know how and I don’t know why. More on this topic soon....

___________________________________________________________________
*My apologies for stealing from the title of the bestseller: Why Do Men Have Nipples? Hundreds of Questions You'd Only Ask a Doctor After Your Third Martini

Dum..Dum..Dah-Dum... Dum...Dum..Dah-Dum

2006-01-27T18:10:00.000-08:00

My best friend was engaged yesterday! She asked me to be her maid of honor! I was so excited I think I forgot to say yes.

We giggled like we did when we were 13 years old, sitting in front of the TV after another grueling day of middle school, watching a Guys Next Door episode (Saturday morning variety show for teenage girls.. kinda like the Monkees from the 70's) and dreaming about Chris Wolf (NKOTB? Who the hell was that?). Now we're giggling about dresses, colors, rings and bachelorette parties.

I'm so happy for her! And now it gives me an bonafide excuse to visit bridal websites and collect pretty wedding pictures all under the guise of "helping her" when I'm secret going to be stashing away ideas for my own ceremony someday. ;)

She made me promise to send her lots of links to important details we need to track. I think I'll start here with the Evil Wedding Planner cause it's damn funny.

Hope- Otherwise Known as a Waking Dream.

2006-01-23T18:16:00.000-08:00

We three finally talked. It took all of an hour with maybe 25 actual minutes of meaty discussion between us about what was going on. She had a reaction to the triad hand holding incident, she’s trying to understand it, and she wanted me to know she hasn’t made up her mind about it. And while this may seem bad, it is in fact, a very good thing. Especially since she didn’t automatically label her response negative and send me retreating with my tail between my legs and a broken heart to nurse. Just like he and I have been doing for the past six months with every little issue, she is taking her time to digest this latest turn of events and figure out what she wants and what she is comfortable with.

Nothing earth shattering was decided during our conversation and we came to no conclusions, ultimatums nor boundaries; the talk itself was simply the monumental event. That alone, was more than enough for the time being.

I told my Beloved that I since I was so wound up and miserable these past few days over the prospect of finally having this long sought after chat; I couldn’t fully relax following it. I breathed an audible sigh of relief as reminder to myself to do so… but I think the anxiety I felt while jumping (and waiting to jump) over this hurdle will only slowly deflate from me like a tiny tear in a waterbed or a nail puncture in a tire.

Note to self: NO MORE DRAMA, GIRLY-GIRL! Take it slow. You have found something amazing and you need to remember to enjoy it each and every single minute.

I’m mentally exhausted and sick of being so weepy. I need some serious downtime before I drive away the people that I love the most. This is only hurdle #15 on the list of potentially thousands. It’s daunting, absolutely daunting and bloody scary to face the next episode.

But underneath it all, there is hope. I sense it, ever so faint, breathing softly and growing quietly with definitive purpose towards the shimmering light. And I cling to that hope- the possibility of a life with them- as it becomes more tangible with every new day.

Wish Me Luck!

2006-01-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

If I’d known that a 2 minute session of public handholding between the three of us in the mall would have been the thing that gets us talking openly in the same room all at once, I would have grabbed him, bent him backwards and planted a kiss on his smacker right in front of her months ago!

We’re ready to talk and it’s probably going to happen in the next 48 hours. That is if no one chickens out. I’m tempted to feign illness or claim the homework is keeping me too busy from coming out to their house for the weekend. But I’ve wanted to have this talk for the last several months. I’m scared but I’m ready for this talk- wherever it may lead.

I’m trying to find a way to convey the magnitude of my feelings for him to her but with as much compassion and tact as possible.

Will she understand?

Does she know that my main objective is and has always been to keep their marriage strong?

Does she know that I would do anything in the world for the two of them?

Does she know that I’m not going anywhere and I’m going to stand my ground?

Does she know that I want to spend my life with them?

Does she know that I lie awake at night wondering how I will find him again after this life is over?

Does she know that I didn’t intend for this to happen but now that it has, I can’t and won’t imagine my life any other way?

Yes, Virginia, there is life outside of television!

2006-01-15T15:16:00.000-08:00

In December, my computer crashed and so I no longer had internet access from home. At first, it seemed like the end of my world. How could I stand it if I couldn’t post my photos, check email and surf all the blogs I wanted to? How was I supposed to get certain class assignments and pdf files that I would need for school? How could I go on breathing???

Well, somehow I survived.

Last weekend, my TV did something funky. After muting the Firefly marathon on Sci-Fi for an hour so I could chat on the phone, I hit the mute button once again and all I got was a static sound in return. The picture was crystal clear but there was no sound whatsoever. I cycled through the channels hearing only PBS coming in, punched a few random menu buttons and called my local cable company. I sat on hold for 5 or 10 minutes and then figured I’d call back later to get it resolved.

In the meantime how was I going to survive without my TV? No Sex and the City episodes back to back on Tuesday and Wednesday nights, no more Grey's Anatomy or Medium, no 15 minutes of music videos seen at 3am... what oh, what was I going to do??

Fast forward through a week without television and instead of calling to have it fixed, I called and canceled the internet and cable service all together.

This past week:

I had a great first week at school. All my classes seem manageable and tolerable. Without television, I can actually get my assignments done not only on time but even ahead of schedule.

I’m working my way through several books (The Dive from Clausen’s Pier, The Seat of the Soul, Blink, Under the Banner of Heaven, Orbiting the Giant Hairball). I haven’t read that much in years.

I’ve got my knitting stash cleaned up and out of the way of kitty paws and human toes.

I spent two mornings having breakfast in bed, listening to classical music on the radio. It’s a much more pleasant morning than screaming at the idiotic newscasters on the local TV stations. I absolutely hate the way they talk, pouting or squinting rather excessively during a piece on something negative and then rushing right through the “bad news” (stuff we really need to pay attention to) just to talk about some damn up and coming dog show or how much the weather sucks. And what’s with these entertainment segments threatening to take over half the broadcast of some news programs out there?

I’ve started listening to a couple of cds that I got over Christmas break: John Legend’s Get Lifted and James’ Blunt’s Back to Bedlam. Good stuff, good stuff. I’ve also fallen in love all over again with Joss Stone’s Soul Sessions.

I’m finally getting sleep! I now get to bed at a reasonable hour now without having to force myself to get up out of the sofa (that has molded its cushions to my butt cheeks) and regretfully turn off the big box with its comforting soft blue light and dancing shadows that keep me company.

I was nice to myself and ordered a subscription to Utne magazine with the money that I saved from not having cable this month. And I swear that it’s only by some weird coincidence that they have a feature on Polyfidelity this month. I did not see that when I ordered the subscription last week. But I’m sure pleased as punch.

So there you have it. My first week without television and somehow, somehow I survived.

This public apology is for...

2006-01-12T10:01:00.000-08:00

the person who watched me act like a two-year-old this past weekend:

Thank you for your infinite wisdom (I really do mean that), compassion, calm demeanor, emotional maturity, and your unrelenting love for me.

Thank you for stepping back and giving me room to vent and sort out my emotions so I could explain to you in words how I felt. And thank you for taking me in your arms once again.

If I ever act like I'm having another temper tantrum, feel free to give me a spanking. ;)

Need a reason to have a bladder control problem?

2006-01-10T10:45:00.000-08:00

I found this site today via Tvindy's mention. I laughed and laughed and almost peed my pants when I came across these hilarious photos of cats with stuff on them. Try one of my favorites: Sammy, the twinkie defense, digits, and (the best of all) Hailey.

Ringing in New Years on a down note with the Goonies and the Galaxy Quest guys

2006-01-05T19:05:00.000-08:00

When I accepted the idea that this relationship could work as a poly one, I knew I was in for a long hard haul, but I was blinded by how long and how hard it would turn out to be. And *sigh* it hasn’t even been a year yet. I’m exhausted. And I’m terrified of making the wrong step.

Remember the scene in the Goonies when the kids are in the cave, being chased by the Fratelli family, and they have to decipher the notes on the massive organ before the floor falls out beneath them? Sometimes, when I’m wrapped up in my own unhappy thoughts, I feel like I too am on that ledge, watching as sections of the rock fall away all around me. I’m scared of playing the wrong note, making the wrong step in this relationship.

That doesn’t sound very mature of me, does it? Everything has the ability to crumble in an instant? Is this healthy?

No I suppose not.

But I never realized all of the delicate intricacies that are involved in a poly relationship- especially the particular ones that we face. It’s so unlike a “normal” relationship. Not only do I have to deal with the stigma of polamory from friends and family, the ever threat of coming out or staying in the closet, but also the resistance from The Wife, the constantly failing attempts to bond with the children, trying to find a reasonable amount of time to spend together, the distance between our residences, the differences in religions (although I do happen to find acceptance within this relationship even with my often fluxuating and simplistic beliefs), the different stages that our lives are in, the age gap, our future goals… the list just goes on and on. Sometimes, especially when we’re communicating on an intimate level, this ledge that I’m on seems so incredibly solid and strong that nothing could break it. Every little detail we discuss of every bridge we have yet to cross seems so inconsequential when he and I are calmly chatting and connecting to one another. The hope I have for a perfect future is at its highest then.

Goonies never say die, right?!?!

But when I’m alone, or I feel snubbed by some small gesture, or I feign utter exhaustion on New Years just so I can avoid the awkwardness of not getting a kiss at midnight… that’s when I feel hopeless and unbalanced. The little critics in my head murmur that I’m not smart enough, I’m not pretty enough, deserving enough, responsible enough, *insert any descriptive word here* enough to make this work out in the end.

And there’s a name for these nasty little critics that was coined last summer in my world. Some people have just one voice in their head that cuts them down. That voice is often rude and overbearing, a total jackass that doesn’t ever seem to quiet down. Since middle school, the voice in my head split into thousands of smaller ones that run around like rotten kindergartners, screaming tourette-like insults at me and telling me over and over again that I’m simply no good.

Now don’t go thinking that I’ve admitted schizophrenia here. Because it’s nothing like that. These little critics don’t tell me to do things, and they don’t whisper that I should kill myself (although there was a time…). They are simply a constant loop of real life comments and events that transform themselves into bratty little blue aliens. I imagine them looking a lot like the little aliens on the rock planet from the movie Galaxy Quest.

Guy Fleegman: I don't like this. I don't like this at all.
Gwen DeMarco: They are *so* cute.
Guy Fleegman: Sure, they're cute now, but in a second they're gonna get mean, and they're gonna get ugly somehow, and there's gonna be a million more of them.

My little Galaxy Quest guys act syrupy sweet to me in the beginning but they always manage to turn it around and become little heathens that cut me down and make me feel awful. We all have these critics in our heads in some form or another. Some of us artists are just more creative in the way we describe them. I wish I was more creative in the way that I deal with them. Ever since I read Stephen King’s Dreamcatcher, I’ve imagined that that I could lock the guys up in a giant cardboard box, deep within the warehouse of my mind. I wrap that box with a ton of duct tape and I slide it into a shadowed corner. Even though most cardboard boxes should be labeled, I deliberately leave this one blank. Hopefully the miles of duct tape remind me that something sinister lies within.

Quit thinking I’m a lunatic. You know you’d like to try this with your critics too. Wouldn’t it be nicer to have unfaltering self-esteem or a positive outlook on ourselves and our lives all of the time? Wouldn’t it be nice to forget the cruelties of childhood, the awkwardness of the developing teenage years, and the disappointing decades of adulthood that leave us wondering what else we could be doing with our lives?

Unfortunately, those Galaxy Quest guys find a way to gnaw through the cardboard at the most inopportune times. I wonder if I intentionally put them in the wimpiest box I can find, just so they have the ability to break free and then use the excuse that I'm not strong enough to keep them at bay. Perhaps. But since the events folded out over 2005, I thought I’d gone and got rid of those little bastards for good. Recently, they punched a hole in the corner of their cardboard prison and they’ve slung insults at me from across the room. Little blue hands poke out from the hole begging for attention, gnarly teeth work feverishly to widen the hole. And it seems like every hour brings them closer to freedom and brings me closer to another bout of depression.

I don’t want to be depressed. And I may not be. But I could be suffering from the affects of that silly Adjustment Disorder thing I was semi-diagnosed with. My life has changed in ways I couldn’t imagine. 2005 brought me a clear and sound frame of mind (except for that teensy tiny part where I fell madly in love and spent a few months completely infatuated). The year was very good to me and I was very good to myself. I began to see the person I wanted to become. I began to accept my faults whether I was able to change them or not- but especially if they were not fixable. I felt on top of the world and capable of anything. I felt worthy of the life I was working towards.

So why do I feel so shitty now? Because sometimes it’s just easier to backpedal then actually bike up the mountain before us. And that’s what I’m doing, for whatever reason. I feel totally stagnant right now- stagnant in my schoolwork, my job, my weight, my attempts to overcome procrastination, and most definitely in my relationships with my beloved and his family.

I’m sitting in a hibernating state of a dull and bleak winter when I wish I was soaring above the summer clouds and enjoying the whistling of the ocean breezes through the tall grasses on a certain sand dune. Oh, my favorite happy place…

Christmas was hard because I couldn’t completely share the joy that I’ve found in my life. No one knows quite what to do with me. I’m quickly becoming the weird relative. I’m not a porno star. I don’t drink excessively. I have no major maladies that would cause anyone to whisper about me when they think I can’t hear them. I simply fell in love with a married man and I want to spend the rest of my life loving him and his wife. That’s all. But no one really wants to talk about it.

I have one parent who’s playing the “Don’t ask, don’t tell” game pretending that this is not really happening and another who is gritting her teeth behind her smile when I mention anything about my love. And it’s not as if I’m sharing intimate details here. I’m talking about normal things like holidays, kids activities, music lessons, pets, and attending church for crying out loud! I think my parents are hoping that this will all blow over quickly. Maybe my other family and friends are hoping for the same.

Fine. Whatever. Watch me roll my eyes at the thought.

And maybe that’s why I no longer view Wisconsin as home. This is the first time in three years that I could hardly wait to get back home. And by home, I mean Oregon, where I’m starting to finally feel that I belong. I was thinking it as I stepped onto the plane at PDX. I was thinking it when I landed in Milwaukee, when I spent Christmas Eve and Day with family… it seemed as if almost every moment had me thinking of home and the life I’m working towards with the people out here that mean so much to me. Don’t get me wrong though, I love my family and friends in Wisconsin. They have always been there for me and they’ve been a good support structure over the years. But maybe I need to find a family of my own.

And here’s where it gets tricky.

I don’t feel entirely at home, a hundred percent of the time with my love. That’s to be expected. I can’t just waltz into a existing family and set up camp. It doesn’t work that way. Rationally, I know this. Emotionally, I find it crushing and exhausting to have to maneuver through every hoop and obstacle in my way. I’m always saying to him “There doesn’t seem to be any room for me in your family.” And I feel it to my very core when I look at the four of them, happily bouncing from activity to activity, living their daily lives together as a perfect example of the *snort* nuclear family ideal. I fear I have nothing to offer them. The Wife is a seemingly perfect cook (or should I say perfectly imperfect?), with a heart of gold and a life filled with hobbies and roles she effortlessly seems to handle. The kids have a mother and a father who use intelligence, bribery (hehehe) and a healthy dose of common sense in their upbringing. What am I supposed to add to a perfectly good balance? And my love has everything he needs; a good job, a supportive family, a soul mate for a wife who has stood by him and supported him half of their lives, enriching relationships with many friends, hobbies that allow him to explore human nature and his own spiritual abilities he’s learning to master. Where do I possibly fit in?

I don’t know for sure.

But those damn Galaxy Quest guys always think they have the answer.

“Hey, sweet-cheeks!” Sometimes they act like little disgusting construction workers taking an unauthorized break, with big cigars dangling from their snarling lips. “You don’t belong here! Go home and leave them all alone. They don’t really want you here. You’re nothing but a pest! They’ve got better things to do then entertain your silly school girl notions of a perfect little family of five. There ain’t no such thing! You’re wasting your time. Move on, darlin’. Just move along.”

*Sigh*

It’s hard to fight against them and show them that the possibility of a healthy integration and fusion of our lives does in fact exist. I don’t always see that possibility. Lately, I just feel in the way. I mean, seriously, what could I give him that he doesn’t already have? When he’s sick, there is someone to take care of him. When he’s lonely, he doesn’t have to go very far for interaction. He’s already had kids. He’s already got the career, the house, the pets, everything he seems to need. I really don’t know if I’ve got anything to offer.

Just today, I recognized a pattern from my own relationships that I can’t continue in this one and it drives me nuts. When I get into a relationship, I make that person my world. Everything revolves around them. They become the person I turn to for everything. They make me feel good about myself even as I sit like a lump on the couch in sweats with unwashed hair and an empty container of Ben ‘n’ Jerry’s nearby. I make the person I’m involved with my absolute everything. I give and give (almost as much as I take) and I expect us to create our own little world together. This happens in every long term relationship for me. But there isn’t the possibility of it happening this time around and I’m scared because I don’t know what to do with myself.

I’m scared that I don’t have anything to offer. I have to find a way in, rather than blaze a path for us and I’m not sure if I can do that. I worry about my mental stability. I worry about my maturity, my experience, and my insecurities. I worry that he’ll wake up one morning and go “Geez, what was I thinking? She’s a total nut job! And whatever did I think I needed her for?”

Are these the Galaxy Quest guys throwing their insults around again or is this really me expressing how absolutely useless I feel?

I wish there was somewhere I could turn to, some sympathetic and unbiased person who wouldn't judge me for the polyamory aspects or the low self-esteem. I wish there was someone else besides the stupid aliens bouncing around like tiny astronauts playing games in a weightless atmosphere, hurting me and trying to destroy all that I've worked so hard for.

Home is Where the Heart is

2005-12-25T11:28:00.000-08:00

Fatal System Error

2005-12-19T09:45:00.000-08:00

Only three little words... yet when strung together, they illicit a high pitched wailing that can be heard from here to Columbus, Ohio. What is it about electronics instinctively knowing to break down around the holidays just when you need them the most?

I feel terrible. I can't get photos out to the people that need them for Christmas cards and presents. I can't take copies home to show my family. This sucks.

I have paid down my credit card to the point of being able to afford a new computer- I'd really like an ibook but putting myself back into deeper debt is something I'm not sure I should do. I know that I can't live without my photos for very long, however.

What to do? What to do?

This is fun. I promise.

2005-12-16T16:41:00.000-08:00

I borrowed this game from Megaloni and I had a ton of fun playing. Megaloni might think I'm nuts though because my level of fake memories is really, really deep!

If you read this, if your eyes are passing over this right now, (even if we don't speak often) please post a comment here on my blog with a COMPLETELY MADE UP AND FICTIONAL memory of you and me. It can be anything you want - good or bad - BUT IT HAS TO BE FAKE. When you're finished leaving your comment, post this little paragraph on your blog and be surprised (or mortified) about what people DON'T ACTUALLY remember about you. I think this will be fun for all; like a bowl of Skittles and M&M's mixed; a color and a flavor for everyone!

PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE PLAY. IT'S SO FUN! ESPECIALLY IF YOU DON'T KNOW ME. JUST POST SOMETHING!!!

I've taken the pledge, and I encourage you all to do the same.

2005-12-16T15:47:00.000-08:00

"Wal-Mart's low costs have extraordinarily high costs for people and the planet. This holiday season let the Walton Family -- the founders of Wal-Mart -- know that you and your family will buy nothing from Wal-Mart. Instead, pledge to make your gift purchases from businesses that are socially and environmentally responsible."

Sign Co-op America's No Wal-Mart Holiday Pledge Today.

No one on my list is getting anything from Wal-Mart for Christmas and Hanukkah this year. Instead, I hope that knitted scarves will keep necks and hearts warm this season.

Below is a sample of approved Green businesses in Oregon as screened by the National Green Pages. You can find more here.

Beeswax Candle Works

Cafe Mam

Garuda International

gDiapers

Greater Goods

Nancy's Yogurt

a list of not so relevant things

2005-12-15T08:38:00.000-08:00

1. My new medication is supposed to increase my level of concentration and alertness. So far I’ve suffered from two of the side effects: drowsiness and nausea. I simply can’t concentrate when I feel like puking up all over the place.

2. The Eugene Public Library has hired a bounty hunter to find me and make me pay past due fines. It boggles my mind to think that I racked up that much in overdue fines. I'm going to continue to avoid them and soon go underground so they can't get me or the future first born child that I signed away when I got my library card.

3. There are days when Eugene, Oregon smells like rotting broccoli. I don't know what it is or where the smell comes from but it can be down right disgusting and it's usually overpowering. No one else seems to notice this and I wonder if I'm crazy.

4. But I think I'll take the rotting broccoli over what the algae on the lakes in Madison, Wisconsin smells like all through August. Yuck!

5. I don't like Christmas very much. It always seems like too much work for one little holiday. I'd rather jump into bed and sleep until mid January. That being said, I've been almost exclusively listening to the two radio stations that play non-stop Christmas music. At least once a day I find myself singing along off-key. What is it about 'Away in a Manger' and 'Jingle Bell Rock' that warms my heart so?

6. I seem to be losing the most amount of weight right in the middle of my stomach. I'm not complaining about that. Rather, I find it discouraging that neither my upper chest nor lower stomach and fat ass seem to be shrinking at all. It looks really weird. I'd settle for a few extra pounds (say 170) if that means I can have an hourglass shape.

7. I don't think I'm going to go to hell when I die. I was already there when I survived my teenage years. If there is someone up there, they will certainly have mercy on me.

8. I'm becoming obsessed with unwanted hair and the removal of it. One of my favorite tools I splurged on this year was some fantastic tweezers. If I could only take one object with me to a desert island, I'd take my tweezers. I love them that much.

9. I count on my fingers way more than I should as a senior attending a major public university.

10. I tend to forget certain letters in certain words like the second 'i' in visit or the fact that there are two o's, only one 'p' and the 'r' doesn't come until after the 'p' in cooperation. I guess I didn't watch enough Sesame Street or something.

11. Sometimes I feel guilty for taking a really fluffy ball of yarn and knitting with it. Every once in awhile I come across a skein of soft yarn out there that should just be left alone. It's practically a shame to knit something when it's already reached a perfect state of existence. How could it possibly be improved by being made into a sweater?

12. I don't see a point to praying. It never gets me anywhere. I find more solace in seeking out a real answer, getting off my ass, and doing something with my hands (other than slapping them together and curling my fingers).

13. 9 years ago this week I was in the hospital having an eight pound cyst removed from my abdomen. I lost twenty pounds in three days. I was miserable at Christmas.

14. 8 years ago this week I was having a hernia repaired that resulted from the cyst surgery. Christmas sucked again that year. Talk about déjà vu.

15. Every year I hear the

Objects In Mirror Revisited

2005-12-14T13:00:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Last year, I had the intention of blogging my New Year’s resolutions. I drafted a list and by the time I was done, it was a mile long. I was too hard on myself, as usual, and the thought of having to attempt all of the million things I wanted to accomplish got me rather down. There were simply too many tasks to perform and behaviors to modify in my life. I was completely overwhelmed and I ended up shelving the post.

A week later, I looked through my archives and it dawned on me how easy it was to observe all of the things that I’d already accomplished that year. I’d really done a whole hell of a lot more than I realized. I discovered photography, I made it through my first year of college at a major public university, I lost more than half the weight I wanted to, I discovered the true amount of love and admiration that I held for my parents. I made up a list and instantly, I felt better. That inventory, along with a metaphorical picture and title, became the post that I listed a year ago.

I’ve decided to continue the tradition of reflecting on this year’s accomplishments. And let me tell you that it’s still a far more rewarding exercise to carry out than having to list all of the things I have yet to do in the coming year. It does wonders for the soul to list all of the good things that have already happened, to catalog each nugget of wisdom gained and special memory that occured, and to store them in a place that I can always visit. Seeing that post last year helped me to reflect on all of the changes I made and that were made to me in the last twelve months. I am reminded that I ended my post last year by declaring that it had been the best year I had in 7 years. Just between you and me, here’s where I admit that 2005 blew 2004 out of the ball park.

It feels like a thousand lifetimes that I’ve past through in just 365 days. So much has happened. So much has changed. I’ve been altered and morphed into an entirely different person. The contrast of last year’s Angela to the Angela of this year is simply staggering. I couldn’t be happier or more self-aware and reflective on where I am in my life at this moment. And all I have is an enormous amount of hope for the future that I face. What follows is a list of some of the most significant things that transpired this year but I have to admit that I found it hard to quantify, to express in words all that has happened in just twelve months.

In five hundred,
twenty five thousand,
six hundred minutes,
How do you measure
a year in the life?

DEBT

Today, there are three kinds of people: the have's, the have-not's, and the have-not-paid-for-what-they-have's. ~Earl Wilson

I’m not out of debt. In fact with three more school quarters under my belt, my school loans have doubled. However, this year I’ve faithfully worked to pay my bills each month. It’s not easy and I don’t always succeed (sometimes not without help from my loving and very understanding parents). But I’m proud to say that at least my car loan is almost paid off. And I am the only one of my friends to have bought my very first car and to have paid for it by myself. This is something to be proud of.

WEIGHT

My doctor told me to stop having intimate dinners for four. Unless there are three other people. ~Orson Welles

I didn’t lose any more weight this year. From October last year to May this year, I gained more than 20 pounds back of what I lost. I spent all summer working it off again. But the amazing thing that happened to me this year was that I began gaining strength and energy from exercise. In June and July, I began walking along the riverfront each day. Most days I walked five miles. A few days I walked ten. When I participated in Relay For Life in July, I jogged around the track a couple of times without stopping. Late this fall, I found out that I could jog just as well as I could walk. Before I had lost the 63 pounds, I couldn’t jog more than a quarter mile. Two weeks ago I jogged two miles around the neighborhood. I’m considering participating in the Butte to Butte as a walker next July. It’s a measly 4.5 miles between Spencer and Skinner Buttes. Huh. Me joining a marathon. That’s something I never thought would happen.

RELIGION

I judge a religion as being good or bad based on whether its adherents become better people as a result of practicing it. ~Joe Mullally

I didn’t find God or Jesus or even Buddha this year. However, what I did find was a more acceptable level of tolerance for certain people who are spiritual. And that’s surprising to me. I’ve spent the last several years being very angry with religion and the people who claim they are spiritual and happy in the world with their God and they supposedly love everyone but really have no tolerance for any other view than the one that matches their own. I generalized them, talked down to them, questioned their intelligence, and made it a point to avoid them whenever possible. At some point this year, I began to soften up. I made friends people that are teaching me about their religion by using tolerance, love and compassion when they discuss their views with me. Through them, I can see how religion has the potential to enhance a life rather than hinder it. This makes me hopeful for the future. I may never move beyond being an agnostic/borderline atheist but I have much respect for those people in my life for which religion is a positive guiding force.

KNITTING

Knit on with confidence and hope through all crises. ~Elizabeth Zimmerman

In January, I taught myself how to knit. I haven’t progressed beyond squares and rectangles, but I have made some very nice gifts for people. This Christmas, I decided to make presents for almost everyone on my list since I’ve been hoarding yarn and old sweaters to be ripped up for their yarn. I must say that I enjoy the craft quite a bit. It has some surprising meditative qualities to it. It kept me sane during the first half of the year when nothing else was doing it for me.

PROCRASTINATION

Procrastination is like masturbation. At first it feels good, but in the end you're only screwing yourself. ~Author Unknown

This is the stickiest issue for me at the moment. I haven’t made a whole lot of headway in solving my habit of putting things off until the very last minute (and sometimes even beyond that point). In fact most days it feels as if I’m sliding backwards. I'm totally distracted and concentration impaired almost every minute of the day. I can't read a book or watch a movie for more than 20 minutes before one of my eyeballs starts to wander to either side of the room. I can be watching the most engrossing drama on TV and suddenly an intriguing piece of cat hair on the sofa, or the fact that the cushions need mending, or a sudden impulse to go buy a new toothbrush will pull my attention away. As you can imagine, it's having a severely damaging impact on my academics. Simply put, this quarters grades are in the toilet.

I've begun the process of obtaining professional help for my constant mental interruptions. Recently, I had a session with a psychologist and I got a sort of diagnosis:

Adjustment Disorder of an Unspecified Subtype

So what does that mean, exactly? Basically it means that my symptoms of procrastination, distraction, a few physical complaints such as headaches and general uneasiness, with minimal depression and anxiety are all related to the fact that I don't adjust well to changes in my life.

You don’t say?

Considering the plethora of changes that have occurred this year, I’d say that diagnosis is pretty damn accurate. I’m coming to terms with the fact that it’s going to have to be enough at the moment to just understand my problem before I attempt to change it.

PHOTOGRAPHY

What is art but a way of seeing? ~Thomas Berger

I’ve struggled with calling myself a photographer this year. However, everyone else around me seems to have no trouble attaching that label to my name. In one year, to many people, I have become the artist, the photographer, the talented person. There is power behind such labels. It allows someone to grow in new directions and become the person they’ve always wanted to be.

Sometimes we can only define ourselves through the definitions that others have of us.

LOVE

The heart has its reasons which reason knows not of. ~ Pascal

This summer, it seemed as if every sunset contained a thousand colors that caught my heart in my throat and made my soul resonate with unheard hymns. I saw the world through a different lens and everything was seemingly brand new and sparkling. Of course, falling in love tends to cloud the brain just a bit.

For those of you who have been keeping track of my blog, you know that this development has kept me relatively busy the last half of the year. It all started here and what blossomed through a ton of emails during the summer caught me completely off guard. At some point in late July I woke up one morning and it dawned on me that I couldn’t imagine not knowing this person whom, up to that point, I hadn’t even met. My life has been divided essentially into life before him and life after him. It’s funny how much everything changes when a total stranger at the beginning of the year becomes such an integral part of my world by the end of the year. He told me last night he was excited to have discovered me in this world. And I want to tell him that I feel exactly the same way.

But the best part is that it’s not just him. In just a few short months, an entire family has come to mean the absolute world to me. Oh, I am so incredibly blessed.

ME

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~Anais Nin

(I didn't photograph the tattoo picture... but I would sure love to focus on art captured on the human body in my pictures! Anyone want to be my model?)

Through several conversations with loved ones this year, the concept of the rising phoenix was mentioned time and time again in regards to my life and it has become a highly appropriate metaphor. I feel as though I’ve hatched out from the restrictive body and mind that has held me prisoner for so long. I most certainly do feel like a phoenix, with newly discovered wings, feathers ruffling in the light breeze, getting ready to effortless soar out over the world. I am coming into my own here and it feels so damn good.

Everything I have touched on in this post is an aspect of my life that has been in a state of change for some time. Some of these changes began more than a year ago; some are only a recent development. But all of these alterations to my life have turned me into a vastly different person from whom I used to be. Five years ago, I was a deeply unhappy person who was just going through the motions of a life unwanted. Three years ago, I made some radical changes to my environment in a desperate attempt to alter the course of my life. Today, I am reaping the benefits from those changes- with added interest.

It's a wonderful time for me and I'm happy to be here to share this life with you all.

Sevits Family Sitting

2005-12-12T08:20:00.000-08:00

I took pictures a week ago for the Sevits family and hopefully they can use one for their Christmas cards. I was supposed to get a good family portrait but Miss Rhylie kept stealing the show and getting right up in front of the camera. She even helped take a photo or two.

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Defiance (one of the many looks of Miss Rhylie)

2005-12-09T12:22:00.000-08:00

"There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child. There are seven million." -Walt Streightiff

2005-12-06T07:15:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

This photograph is a little unusual seeing as how I washed most of it out. I wanted to capture Rhylie's deeply soulful eyes and command the viewer’s attention with them. Her eyes sung, danced, whispered, screamed and burst with joy. A precocious little toddler with an unyielding determination to do what she wants; Rhylie is absolutely adorable and I get a kick out of taking her picture every time. She’s also stunningly gorgeous to boot. I think she gets those looks from her parents. And maybe the family would agree that Rhylie gets her determination from her mother!?!? ;)

My Book List for 2006

2005-12-05T08:34:00.000-08:00

I hope to get some reading done in the new year. Here's a list of some titles that look enticing to me.

Memoirs of a Geisha

The Simpsons and Philosophy: The D'oh! of Homer

Three in Love

Lunar Park

Middlesex

The Three Incestuous Sisters

A Pattern Language: Towns, Buildings, Construction

Odd Ball Knitting : Creative Ideas for Leftover Yarn

Knit Ponchos, Wraps & Scarves

Polyamory: The New Love Without Limits : Secrets of Sustainable Intimate Relationships

Lately

2005-12-04T13:15:00.000-08:00

I’ve been feeling lonely the last couple of days. I think it has something to do with the emptiness that surrounds me in this apartment. I feel closed in by it and I’m always trying to escape it. Usually I put the TV on or the radio. It doesn’t always fill what’s missing though. When everything is absolutely quiet, that’s when I feel the worst. Sometimes the silence is suffocating. When Tudeskii was here, there was always noise of some kind. I would hear him taking his shower in the morning as I awoke. Or I’d here him laughing along to the Daily Show as he made dinner. And as much as I hated his snoring, at least it was a constant sound in the middle of the night and I always knew he was close by.

It’s especially hard to have this empty feeling so close to Christmas. Maybe I have it because of the holidays. I’m not entirely sure.

I’m hoping to shake it off come Thursday when all of my finals are done. But I fear with less to do, I may get even lonelier. I thought it might help to get out and spend some time Christmas shopping (or rather, window shopping) but somehow it just makes me feel worse. And everywhere I go, insipid Christmas music is piped into the sound system. And everyone else seems so happy and content. Meanwhile, I nearly broke down and cried while at St. Vinnie’s yesterday. There was some old song on-‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’-I think and it just echoed right through me filling me with such sadness. It just made me weak all over.

January can’t get here soon enough.

In Between the Studying...

2005-12-03T00:22:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

I like to pick up the needles to calm my anxious and overworked brain just a little bit. I've decided to make as many gifts as possible for Christmas. Seeing as how it's already December, I've had to make a few adjustments for the gifts to be ready in three short weeks:

Almost everyone is getting a scarf. I don't have time to make blankets, wraps or anything complicated.

I'm using chunky yarn in everything. The chunkier, the faster it knits up.

Big needles are my friends. Anything under a size 10 is out.

I bought a knitting hoop that’s supposed to help one knit faster. But I probably won't figure out how the damn thing works till after the New Year.

I resolve to start on next year's gifts by December 26th.

Old Girl

2005-12-02T00:06:00.000-08:00

A Sign of Contentment (it is HNT, after all)

2005-12-01T01:18:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Let the eyebrows rise high, hushed whispers pass judgment, and cutsey comments commence right.... now.

And before someone asks, I'll just answer:

Yes that is HIM. NO- He is not naked! And you can read about the tattoo symbol here.

Hey look at that! In one little post I've managed to "out" him, embarrass myself totally, and piss off my parents for showing more partially nude pictures. Congrats to me!

*I do know the rules of HNT but I thought it was more fun to post someone else's picture today.

Little Did I Know... (plus: How I Spent My Thanksgiving Break)

2005-11-30T00:22:00.000-08:00

Last year, I posted a note about a fantastic paperback that I was reading called Kiss My Tiara: How to Rule the World as a SmartMouth Goddess by Susan Jane Gilman. It's a great little book with a sarcastic sense of humor that challenges a woman's place in the world and demands that every woman stick up for herself. I put some of the more memorable quotes up and I'd like to highlight a section of them once again considering how ironic it is. This one particular chapter offered a handy dandy guide of responses for those pesky comments that family members often make to young, single women:

"Comment: So when are you going to get a real job?
A. Hey what's not "real" about lap dancing?
B. Well, my boss says that if I continue to be "nice" to him after hours, I'll never have to work again.
C. How about when Uncle Artie gets a real toupee?

Comment: So, when are you planning on giving me grandchildren?
A. I don't know. When are you planning on breaking a hip?
B. How's about after you leave me a big inheritance?
c. Not until I get a cute girlfriend and a really good turkey baster

Comment: Still not married, hmmmm?
A. Nah, just sleeping around.
B. Well, my boyfriend is, so the way I see it, we're one-for-one.
C. No, but the baby's due in May."

*giggle*

It isn't hard to see how hysterical I became (laughing until the hiccups arrived) when I stumbled on this post and realized how well it played into my current situation! The man, who for all intended purposes is essentially my boyfriend, (should be… will be? More on that in a moment), is in fact married. But as we work our way through this highly complicated situation, for now we are trying to avoid traditional labels. This relationship defies them all anyway.

Let me tell you how much fun it would be to repeat the above retort at our family’s Christmas dinner when pestered for the umpteenth time about my love life. My very prim and proper grandmother would probably have a stroke. She couldn't comprehend how I could live with another man and not be married (done it twice now-- yes, I know I'm a statistic). I could just imagine having to explain this one to the emergency room staff. "What caused her collapse?" "Uh...." But then again, I’m already planning on coal in my stocking this year. Seriously, how much worse could it possibly get?!

My parents can go ahead and breathe a sigh of relief because I will not be boasting about this to anyone back home (Mom and Dad, I promise I won’t ruin Christmas!). I intend to keep a low profile, smile sweetly, and speak softly when asked detailed questions about my new love. I’m not going to lay it all out and shock everyone. That’s not my style. But that being said, I’m not going to lie either. I don’t believe that hiding this from everyone will soften the blow. If people are curious and they want to know, I’ll tell them. If people are upset, they’ll be so either now or later, so why hold off the inevitable? I can’t change the way they will react or the way they will feel, I can only influence them through my sincere actions and the love that I hold. Those family members who love me and who genuinely want to see me happy throughout my life will come around eventually.

-----------------------------------------
Now on to the latest developments (‘cause I know many of you are just dying to hear all about it):

This past weekend was a major turning point for me. I finally found the courage (after 2 months and 3 weeks to be exact) to say something to my Love’s wife about the romance that has blossomed between her husband and I. Sheepishly I admit that it took way longer than it should have for me to be honest with her. In my defense I ask -no, DARE- any one of you out there to try and imagine having to tell someone’s spouse of 18 years that you’re madly in love with their significant other.

It’s not easy.

It wasn’t easy.

It was downright terrifying.

I decided on Thanksgiving weekend because it would allow me plenty of opportunities to talk with her. Of course, being the procrastinator that I am, I waited until the very last possible moment of the weekend to finally speak up. I was so nervous that I could hear my heart pounding in my eardrums. I couldn’t swallow. I couldn’t even look her in the eye. But I knew that I had to do this. I’ve been so extraordinarily stressed these last few weeks with school deadlines, financial issues, sadness from a (f)roommate moving far away, concentration and distraction problems, not to mention this very unique relationship, that I had made my mind up to start handling my problems instead of letting them fester. And I was bound and determined to deal with them as soon as I possibly could. In retrospect, I should have backed off and stuck to the more pressing issues of school and mental interruptions that continue to plague me (thanks to my Love for pointing this out to me- Dear, you were right. When you’re right, you’re right. Just don’t expect me to say that very often. As many people know, I hate admitting when I’m wrong!!).

But I was tired of living what seemed like a lie.

Or at the very least, wasn’t an entirely truthful situation.

And I knew that she knew something was up. It was sort of obvious considering the amount of time we spent together, the lack of free minutes on our cell phones (some months, the overage charges were astronomical!), and the goofy grins plastered on our faces for several months.

A coma patient could have figured it out; we were just that obvious.

So I know this wasn’t a shock to her for me to admit it finally. I’ll bet she could see it coming a mile away. Her reaction was both surprising and yet not... at the same time. She seemed upbeat with me, even after I admitted my feelings for both her and her husband. Her initial response to me was quite heartfelt; she mentioned she’d never had a sister in her life and she could use a close relationship like that. I quietly responded that I’d never had a sister either. It was a deeply emotional moment for me and I almost choked up. Sigh. She went on to say that her husband should have never pursued a friendship with me when he darn well knew it couldn’t go anywhere. She also mentioned that she hoped my feelings for them wouldn’t keep me from developing the necessary relationships in life that I needed to have. And after I let it all sink in, I was crushed.

I came to the conclusion that she didn’t understand how serious this was. She didn’t want for me to feel as if I was held back from finding the “right” relationship. I incorrectly assumed that she had me pegged as a silly little school girl who would soon get over this embarrassing infatuation I had for her husband. Unfortunately I kept my mouth shut because I didn’t want to throw her completely off balance by declaring my undying love for him and my ultimate wish to marry them someday.

(Yeah, you did read that right. I want to be with this couple the rest of my life. I want to be there through absolutely everything. I want to take care of them and I want to be taken care of. I want to watch the children grow up into the spectacular adults they are becoming. I want to be there to catch the sniffles shared every season. I want to be annoyed by the sounds of the 10th drum solo in a row. I want to play board games over and over even though I know I’ll always lose. I want to wake up in the middle of the night to kitties serenading the darkened rooms. I want to *gasp!* go to church with them and watch how they communicate with their God. I want to spend rainy afternoons under a large afghan surrounded by snuggling humans and pets alike. I want to share the joys that make souls sing and Band-Aid the boo-boos that trip up each member of the family. In just a few short months, my Love and his family have come to mean the absolute world to me. My life will never be the same.)

I left that afternoon, stunned into an hour long silence on the ride home (plus two embarrassing phone calls where I cried like a baby). I was contemplating what happened, picking and choosing what to remember from the conversation, and finding myself sliding into a quicksand of sadness. I totally skipped over the fact that I had just completed a monumental task that had hung over my head for 3 months! I had accomplished what I’d set out to do this weekend. I got it out in the open! I was supposed to be able to exhale completely for once. But in the midst of my brain misfiring, all I could focus on was the false assumption that she was shutting the door on the future I want with them.

I went home and cried myself to sleep.

72 hours later with several reassurances, a joke made in regards to having “dibs on him” for the evening from the woman who will from here on out will be known as ‘The Wife’, and a good stern talking to about how I need to detach myself from this rollercoaster for a good couple of weeks until this school semester is a distant memory... why I feel almost down right stupid. I was so hell bent on getting this one issue dealt with that I didn’t stop to contemplate how the outcome was going to affect me at this time. I feel, as Ralphie’s father would say, Fra-gee-lay at the moment. My emotions are bouncing all over the place and the stress level is at the highest it’s been all year. This is typical for December when finals roll around, the weather turns shitty and I have to face yet another hectic Christmas season with little more than lint in my billfold. I have this constant feeling that I should be hibernating through it all. At least I wasn’t suffering from PMS on top of everything that happened this weekend!

So where does that leave us? I dunno exactly. I think I’m relieved to take my Love’s suggestion and just chill out for a few weeks. No one is going anywhere. And we all need time to adjust to the changes that we will face (I can't wait until I get to officially use the title 'boyfriend' and reap all the benefits that come along with said title-- I hope he likes to hold purses for his women in public, watch chick flicks on a regular basis, and doesn't mind being groomed!). The Wife will have an especially trying time. She now has the information that she’s needed for quite a while. The ball is in her court and I’m sure this won’t be the last time that I feel utterly powerless in this relationship. I only hope that she knows I want the best for her, him, their marriage, and their family. I have to trust that in time there will be a space carved out for me within their world.

Whew! (insert here the sound of a long and deep exhale, similar to that of a Macy's Thanksgiving Parade Balloon deflating)

Hehehehe… I’m guessing I have a bunch of you all beat out for the one of the most stressful Thanksgiving vacations around, no?!?!

(P.S. For those of you concerned about how much time I may have spent writing this out, don’t worry. I had the first part written a while ago and the second part was done between calls from customers at work today. I am working hard on my final assignments. I’m going to finish the semester strong. I love you all for caring about me so much and encouraging me in your own ways. –A.)

10 Reasons Why Gay Marriage is Wrong

2005-11-27T19:51:00.000-08:00

01) Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.

02) Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.

03) Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.

04) Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn't changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can't marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.

05) Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britney Spears' 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.

06) Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn't be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren't full yet, and the world needs more children.

07) Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.

08) Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That's why we have only one religion in America.

09) Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That's why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.

10) Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven't adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.

Found on a very interesting site.

all I want for Christmas is to stay away from the unemployment line

2005-11-23T08:51:00.000-08:00

I'm stressed.

And I'm ready to go postal.

I went to bed with yet another one of my nasty headaches last night. It was about midnight. I set my alarms (I have three of them) for 4:30 so I could get up and finish some last minute homework and to pack for my Thanksgiving out on the coast. I had to work at 7 am.

I woke up at 7:40 am. None of my alarms had worked. I know that I had set each one. In my headache induced stupor, I must have turned every single one off and went back to bed. I rushed off to work without a shower (icky!), without breakfast and without any homework done.

This year, I'm asking Santa to pull some strings and let me keep my job.

And I'm asking for another alarm clock.

From Down Below

2005-11-18T17:49:00.000-08:00

Before I Forget... I Did Another Thing That I'd Been Scared To Try.

2005-11-17T20:30:00.000-08:00

I'm proud to say that I finally attended a Eugene Weblogger Get-together! I've been putting it off for months, ever since Michael first visited my site and linked me up to the Eugene Weblog List. I suppose I was avoiding it for fear that I wouldn't do well in a new social situation. But I think I did just fine. And yes, there was this really long discussion on vacuums. I sat there thinking I should have some sort of input on vacuum types or vacuuming in general but alas, I am domestically challenged. I don't vacuum unless I absolutely have to. And that amounts to once a month when one of two things happens: either I have guests over or one of the cats pukes up his breakfast.

Still, I was pleasantly surprised by how fun the meeting was, even if we did very little talk of blogs. Hey, I got to meet a group of adorable men! Why would I complain at all?!? There was Michael, Tvindy, Alan and Brandon, who had the best business cards ever.

I'm already looking forward to the next meeting.

My Parents Bought Me This Expensive Camera And All I Do Is Take Naughty Pictures With It!

2005-11-16T00:15:00.000-08:00

So this really should go under the HNT file, but I'm not bold enough to jump onto that bandwagon (and for those of you that don't know what HNT is, sorry but I ain't gonna 'splain it here!). Here are the "real pictures" I've been debating whether to post or not. First off, I'm really proud of these photos. I sent them to a couple of people by email and received some very positive feedback so I thought, "What the hell? It's my blog after all and if I'm proud of my art, I ought to be proud to display it!" So here you go, it's me in all my glory:

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

I hope my parents let me keep my camera. ;)

The way I see it, since last year was filled with cat pictures, here and here, here and even here, this year is a real improvement if my blog is filled with pictures of the human body (including my own). It just dawned on me yesterday, during a conversation with a close friend in which I was reflecting on last fall's photos, that I was taking all these photos of cats and plants and landscapes because I was afraid to interact with other people. I was cooped up inside (both literally and figuratively) and my art was suffering as a consequence. Since letting myself open up to the world and finding confidence in many different realms, I have discovered that I’m moving in brand new directions with my art. And it’s going to help me not only grow as a person but as a photographer as well.

No matter what, I'm not apologizing for today's post. Why should I? I am proud that I can find the guts to stand in front of my camera and pose and I'm especially proud that I found the courage to post the results here. So what if I'm fat? So what if I have a few pimples? So what if my face isn't absolutely symmetrical? Who cares? I'm learning that it doesn't really matter. I found love. Even in my imperfect state I am loved by someone out there. Now I just need to learn to love myself in that imperfect state. I think this is a good start, don’t you?

Sometimes You Just Need a Good Laugh

2005-11-15T18:55:00.000-08:00

I stumbled across this site today: Overheard In New York. It appears to be snippets of various conversations on the streets of New York and I think it's just plain hysterical. I especially enjoyed the Cicadas one, the Robot one, the Jeopardy! one, the Hot Tips one, and the Steven Wright one.

It kept me entertained for hours. And that's saying a lot. ;)

Boardwalk

2005-11-15T14:22:00.000-08:00

My Favorite Model

2005-11-14T07:50:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

I’m finding that I truly enjoy taking photographs of people in private and intimate settings. My favorite part is getting a subject to relax enough to where they forget about the camera. When that happens, I capture a more genuine representation of them on film.

The Wrinkles Are Coming! The Wrinkles Are Coming!

2005-11-13T14:20:00.000-08:00

When I first saw the hair this morning, I thought it was just a really light strand of red. I had my hair dyed way back in August and some of hair near my face had lightened quite considerably. I assumed that this was just a freak strand that had done the same even though it was near the center of my scalp and to the back. But when I pulled it away from the rest of my hair and took a better look, I realized it was just a little too light and transparent. So I yanked it out, stuck it next to a black cloth, and scrutinized it under a lamp. Sure enough, the end nearest to the scalp wasn’t red or light red or even my normal mousy brown color.

I just found my first white hair. And its glistening color was boldly mocking me:

“Now you’re going to dye your hair for a whole new reason!!! The thought of me and all my gray friends invading your cherished hair with a determined vengeance is going to drive you to religiously seek out the salon every other month until you die! Bwah hah hah!”

*GASP!* I am completely inconsolable. Shouldn’t there be a rule in nature that if you don’t at least feel like an adult, you can hold off looking like one for a while? I’m too young to have gray hair! I don’t have a mortgage to worry about or a sizable 401K or even children to drive me to the brink of insanity. And I’m only 28 years old!! Shouldn’t I at least be over 30 before I start going gray?

And the worst part is that I have a salon appointment next weekend. I should have left the hair attached to my head so it could be dyed along with all the rest. Now it’s going to grow back in a brilliant shade of white and stick out even more against the red locks!

I think this is what I deserve for making fun of all the people in my life who have white hairs. It was funny when they had it... but I'm not laughing now that it's my turn.

I’m sure that crow’s feet are just around the corner.

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!

2005-11-13T13:17:00.000-08:00

Few More Light and Shadow Shots

2005-11-12T14:30:00.000-08:00

Taking the Hinges off of the Closet Door (alternate title: It’s My Blog and I’m Not Going to Hide Anymore)

2005-11-09T12:00:00.000-08:00

Many of my posts over the last year have been dedicated to other people, either publicly or privately. Many of my pictures are taken at special events and moments that help capture my emotions, or other people’s emotions and they let me convey my love for the people in my life, the art form that my life is becoming, and the amazing world around me. I hope that through this blog, my friends and family can see how much my life has improved. I hope that they can see how happy I am- more than any other time in my life. There are many reasons for my happiness. And today, I have found the courage to share a big one.

But first, let me back up for a second here and tell you where I’m coming from. I used to suffer from depression- severe depression. I’ve gone through a few cycles starting when I was a teenager. From the time I was 12 until I was 26 or so, I’ve suffered from at least 3 major bouts of depression and I spent much of those 14 years in a haze of overeating, self-hatred, and explosive anger. I went through two major surgeries that left mental and physical scars. I doubted any beauty I could have possessed (in fact I disassociated myself from the person in the mirror. We were not the same person). I didn’t think I could be an architect, or a drafter, or an interior designer. I doubted any talent I had or any potential for talent. I didn’t think I could get where I wanted to go in life.

I was simply a mess.

During the last major depression, I found myself living a life I did not want. I was spinning my wheels at a technical school, working several dead-end jobs, lashing out at my boyfriend with whom I lived in a couple of awful apartments and we both had the habits of a packrat and farm animal combined. At some point, I woke up and realized how awful my life had become- and how much more awful it was going to get if I didn’t change something. My moment of clarity came at a time when I thought that I was destined to stay in this unwanted life forever.

I made several changes over the last 3 years that have improved my life to the point that I enjoy pretty much every day rather than rare moments. I moved from Wisconsin to Oregon to attend the University of Oregon. I started to take better care of myself and have found the energy that I was lacking for so long. The depression began to dissolve as I took more and more responsibility for my actions and my own happiness. And I met someone who had a heart of gold and the patience of a saint and for nearly 3 years he was my rock out here.

(Tudeskii- It hasn’t even been a week, but I already miss you. I don’t know if I ever told you but you were one of the biggest reasons for my life changing so dramatically. You allowed me to see how funny I am, how loving I can be, how much I have to give to the world and how much more improvement I can make in my life. In a perfect world, we would have found a way to make things work out. But they didn’t. Please know that you taught me so much. I can’t find the right words to express what you mean to me. You are a soul mate of mine. I’m forever grateful that we found one another and I’m eternally in debt to you for the lessons that you taught me. Thank You!)

Last year, I started this site for a couple of reasons. I wanted to keep in touch with my friends and family back home. I wanted to document my weight loss. I wanted a journal that I would visit on a regular basis instead of writing just an entry or two and eventually forgetting about it. I wanted to be cool and have a web page (I’m sure there are many of us bloggers who can relate to that statement). Within a month of posting, I discovered how easy it was to take digital pictures and post them on the web. I loved documenting my life out here for everyone back home to see. After one particular round of photos , I realized how much fun this was and I saw a glimpse of talent in myself. I did not intend to take up a new hobby, I just had a cheap digital camera and I felt like using it. Photography happened by chance and it changed my life.

But something else has happened by chance and it too has changed my life forever.

After a few months of posting pictures, people started to notice my blog. I had a few comments here and there and I was ecstatic that someone, anyone was actually reading my little blog (aren’t we all a little giddy after those first few comments land on our blog?!). Many comments were from bloggers just passing through, never to return. But miraculously enough, some people started returning on a regular basis (only to be greeted with multiple pictures of my cats and incoherent ramblings about politics and other brainless things going on in my boring life).One of those visitors struck up an email conversation with me this past summer. In a matter of four months, we exchanged almost 300 emails and blog posts. The short version of the story is that we finally met, sparks flew and soon we had to admit that this was not a casual acquaintance for either one of us. By the end of September, we fell in love.

(Whew. It’s nice to finally see that in print on my own blog!!)

Now you must be wondering, “What’s the big deal here? So you fell in love? Big whoop! That happens every single day! You’d better get to the point here pretty quickly before I hit the ‘next blog’ button…”

So what is going on? What is the conflict?

Well, he’s married.

(Pause for everyone to catch their breath and make that perfect little ‘O’ with their lips)

He’s been married for quite some time to a wonderful woman. And he’d like for me to be in a poly relationship with both of them.

(Pause for crickets chirping and silent sobbing from my parents)

“A poly relationship? What the hell is that?”
Well, here’s a good definition from Wikipedia. And here a site and another you can visit for more information. In short, it’s a committed relationship between three or more people that respect and love one another.

“Oh, I get it. This is what those weird Mormon groups do. Are you going to move to Utah, join a polygamist cult, submit to your boyfriend’s every sick whim, and never be heard from again?”
Yeah, he wishes! ;)
Aww, hell no! I’m not a Mormon. I don’t particularly care for Utah and this isn’t about being of lower status to my partner(s). That’s not what polyamory is about, at least for me. It’s about being honest and open with the people that I am in love with. It’s about direct communication. It’s about sharing our lives together. It’s about equality.

Look, I still have the same goals that I did before. I want to be a wife, a mother and an architect. I want to take care of my parents when they get older. I want a home of my own. I want a good life and I want to live my life knowing that I’m learning from every lesson put forth in front of me and that I am making the right choices for myself. I want to love and be loved. Isn’t that what everyone wants no matter who they sleep with at night?

“Is this some sick sexual thing that you’ve got going on?”
HAHAHAHAHA. It has nothing whatsoever to do with sex. It has to do with love. Sex is just an added benefit from it. And for those of you that know me and the situation a little more and are wondering- (not that it’s anyone’s business) but NO! I am not having sex!!! Not at this time. I respect their relationship and their commitment to one another. I’m trying my hardest to let this whole situation take a natural course as we all figure out our roles, wishes and desires.

“You do realize you’re going to hell, right?”
That’s fine, except for one thing. I don’t follow your religion so I’m pretty freakin’ sure that I’m not going to end up in your version of an afterlife. I have my own beliefs, thank you.

If I did believe in a God (and I’m still wavering at the moment), I’d like to think that my God wouldn’t set this all up to happen as some sick joke on me. Here’s the love(s) of your life but you can’t be with them because it’s wrong, wrong, WRONG! Sorry! Better luck next time! There is a reason that our lives take the courses that they take. There is a reason for every single person that comes in and goes out of our lives. I’d like to think that he and I did not meet by chance. I’d like to think that we found each other because we needed to. There would be no reason for me to meet him and his family and to fall deeply in love, only to have it ripped away for one reason or another. I think we have a chance to make it work.

But we have to be given that chance.

And we have to be given the choice.

“This is never going to work. You’re making the biggest mistake of your life. Get out now before you hurt yourself or someone else.”
I believe that among all the reasons I exist, I’m here to learn certain lessons in life. Not all of those lessons have happily ever after endings. My mother says that this will never ever work out, and I am destined to get hurt. Well, so be it. Then there would be a reason to learn from that hurt. And if I end up hurting in the end, at least I’ve learned something.

It’s better to have loved and lost then to have never loved at all. Wouldn’t you agree?

“There must be something wrong with you that you can’t find a nice single man.”

“There must be something wrong with him. Is he going through a midlife crisis?”

“What does he want with you? Are you sure he’s not using you?”
I’m not sure that there is anything wrong with me or him. Like I said, this just happened. It wasn’t planned; it wasn’t part of anyone’s grand scheme. Neither one of us was seeking out the other one. It’s happened and we’re dealing with it the best way that we know how- with love, compassion and communication.

Some suggestions now that you know:

If you feel the need to pray for me, go right ahead. I’m going to need all the help and support possible to make this all work out in the end. Even if you’re praying that I’ll find the “right” answer, all’s I can say is that at least you’re thinking about me and maybe that will lead to you find out more about who I am as a person, how I view the world and how much I love the people in my life. I hope that your praying brings you and me closer together in the long run. Just don’t think that I’m going to somehow change my life based on the moral conduct of your religion. Sorry, it just doesn’t work that way.

If you feel the need to preach to me about how immoral I am, save it. ‘Cause I’ve already heard enough. Not only do I have to listen to the hurtful words from people whom I care deeply for, or worse yet the pregnant pauses and long drawn out sighs, but I have to listen to the internal voices that question every step that I take. It’s called cultural conditioning. I am conditioned (like 99% of you) that there is only one way to love. There is only one acceptable path. I never saw myself in an open relationship with more than one consenting adult at the same time. But faced with the possibility, I happily accept the challenges that I will face to be with them in the end.

If you don’t want to ever speak to me again or read my blog, farewell! I will miss you and I’ll shed a tear or two but that won’t stop me from living my life, discovering what I want from it, or deciding for myself the shape that it is to take.

It’s up to me to become who I want to be.

Punkin

P.S. I wrote this really long post today because I found that I had deeply hurt someone for some comments made on my blog recently. For that I am truly, truly sorry. But it got me thinking that this is my website and while I love that everyone stops by to read my posts and gaze at my artwork, I need to be allowed to completely express myself here. Even when I offend people or stick my foot in my mouth or look like a dork because I’m not all that intellectual and articulate when it comes to communicating with the world about what I’m feeling (case in point, I think I just wrote a fragmented sentence. At least that’s what Microsoft Word is telling me…). This blog is my space. It is not only who I was a year ago and who I am now, but it is who I wish to become.

I am hiding this development in my life from certain people and certain social situations (read: just about everyone and just about everywhere). Because I have to do so much hiding on a daily basis, I need a place that I can come and be myself, that I can be open about what is going on, where I can vent, be giddy, where I can cry. And I want do it without everyone harping on me that I'm a bad person. Because deep down, I know that I'm not.

I want to be a strong woman in love with a wonderful family. I want to support the people in my life and find an equal amount of support from them. I want to be honest and I want to be true to myself.

For now, I can be true to myself in at least one sphere. And that is here.

It's a good start anyway.

There's a stylin' thin girl in here somewhere!

2005-11-07T20:15:00.000-08:00

Hmm.... Is it weird that I want, nay, I MUST have these tights even though I'd have to buy a whole new outfit including shoes just for them? I've never had a love of tights before. Fat girls and hosiery usually have a mutual hatred for one another. We are sworn enemies, plain and simple. I swear when I was much bigger, if I could have run more than 10 steps in tights, I would have started a fire. I'm not kidding. Really, I'm not! Just ask any woman size 16 and over what she thinks of pantyhose and you'll get an earful. I promise colorful swear words will pepper the conversation too. But today, for some unknown and uncontrollable reason, I find myself wanting to jump enemy lines and get myself some sexy red tights. Hell yeah, baby!

The Newport Swim Team- A Bunch of Whiners... Er, Make That Winners!

2005-11-07T06:00:00.000-08:00

Fort Rock Revisited

2005-11-06T05:15:00.000-08:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

With my Tudeskii moving away this weekend (insert long and meaningful post about love, friendship, kindness, ever-lasting friendship, and all around froomie goodness that I just don't have the mental and emotional energy to write so early in the morning) and taking much of the computer equipment with him, I was forced to go back through my old files and move them from the laptop to another computer. In doing so, I've come across several pictures that I either missed the first time or just didn't think were right for the blog. I feel like posting some of these old photos until I get some new ones (which may happen today depending how Alder's kids look at their swim meet).

Halloween 2005

2005-11-05T10:40:00.000-08:00

Purple Fireworks On The Fourth Of July

2005-11-04T06:20:00.000-08:00

With rain projected for the next week and a half in Eugene,
I sure wish it was the Fourth of July again.

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Yachats In September

2005-11-03T04:32:00.000-08:00

The change within me is...

2005-11-02T00:00:00.000-08:00

...painfully slow and sometimes faint but it is destined to happen no matter what. This, I am convinced of.

Between Two Ports

2005-11-01T15:45:00.000-08:00

Late Afternoon

2005-10-31T06:55:00.000-08:00

Who Doesn't Like Bubbles?

2005-10-27T23:10:00.000-07:00

In The Middle Of A Filbert Grove On Sunday Afternoon

2005-10-25T00:00:00.000-07:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Patience is waiting. Not passively waiting. That is laziness. But to keep going when the going is hard and slow - that is patience.

Author Unknown

The moment one gives close attention to anything, even a blade of grass, it becomes a mysterious, awesome, indescribably magnificent world in itself.

2005-10-24T00:36:00.000-07:00

Untitled

2005-10-23T00:00:00.000-07:00

Newport Morning

2005-10-21T09:45:00.000-07:00

Hands

2005-10-15T08:22:00.000-07:00

Monday Morning Roundup

2005-10-10T11:10:00.000-07:00

I copied this from the Mighty Lambchop Gospel blog. Both Lambchop and her hubby Opaco are hotties living in Oregon and blogging about their lives. I enjoy both blogs quite a bit.

Go to Google and click on the images link. Type in the following for each image and select the first one that the search engine returns (or your favorite one found).

-Name of the town where you grew up
-Name of the town where you live now
-Your name
-Your grandmother's name (either one you choose)
-Your favorite food
-Your favorite drink
-Your favorite song
-Your favorite smell
-(and because I'm trying to be a little bit original, I added this one in) the job you'd like to have if you didn't do what you're doing now- or the profession you'd study if you weren't studying what you are right now in school.

A view of the Capital in Madison, Wisconsin.

Eugene, Oregon in the 1950's. Perhaps Willamette Street?

Entering punkindunkin into Google returns about four pages of my old photos. How cool is that?!?! I chose this photo because it's mine and because it's the picture that started it all. I didn't know about digital photography and I certainly didn't know anything about macro photography till we got a free Fuji camera from Dell with our computer last year. That Fuji changed my life.

When we downloaded this photo and put it on the internet, I discovered how easy it was take digital pictures and share them with the world almost instantly. If you'd told me a year ago that I'd be considering photography as more than a hobby and that I could actually be good at it, I'd have laughed my ass off. I'm not laughing now.

Henrietta. She is the daughter of Norwegian immigrants. They settled in Iola, Wisconsin with many other husky Scandinavian peoples.

I was raised on the staple foods of Wisconsin such as brats, cheese, meatloaf, chicken and dumpling soup, Salisbury steak... a very basic meat and potatoes kind of diet. Since then, I've discovered Mediterranean and Indian food. My favorite restaurants are Poppi's Anatolia in Eugene, Oregon and Chautara in Madison, Wisconsin. This dish below is Indian Mattar.

Amy's Frozen Meals includes a wonderful dish of Indian Mattar Paneer which has garbanzo beans, peas, basmati rice, and Indian cheese all together with a delectable curry sauce. And the best part is that I can have it any time I want. No reservations, no waiting, no getting out of my jammies. I just have to open the freezer!

MMMM... Izze fruit drinks rock! I discovered them this summer while in Portland. I'm allergic to coffee and the Chai tea sucks so I don't have too many options when it comes to drinks at Starbucks (any other coffee joint has Oregon Chai...what's up with that?!). But an Izze is worth putting up with the long lines of zombie yuppies demanding their morning fixes of caramel lattes (do they sell those at Starbucks? I don't even pay attention to the latest coffee drinks).

Sleepwalk by Santo and Johnny.

There are many things in this world that smell divine. Old Spice for one. Chanel N°5 for another. But lately, Pantene has risen to the top of my favorite smells.

I think I like the smell best just after a shower when I can bury my nose into a head of soft, cool hair and twirl my fingers around damp curls of yummy goodness. Um, I don't use Pantene myself (I'm into Aussie- no animal testing, hooray!) but I know some people that do use Pantene. It's like pure heaven in a bottle… at least that's the way it makes me feel.

I think if I wasn't going to be an architect and I could actually stand the sight of blood without getting woozy, being a midwife would be a great profession. Imagine being responsible for helping thousands of children come into this world and helping women feel good about childbirth. What an amazing and fulfilling career that would be.

Eugene Celebration

2005-10-07T07:20:00.000-07:00

It's That Time Of Year Again!

2005-10-06T10:14:00.000-07:00

Fall is here because the leaves are turning brilliant colors, pumpkins are for sale at the supermarket and area corn mazes are in full swing. I'd really like to go to one this year. If for no other reason than to say I finally did it (even if it takes hours and hours to do so). If I go, I'll be sure to take along these handy dandy tips for surviving the fun that is a corn maze.

Anybody care to join me?

I’ll bring the machete.

The Lengths We Go To For A Few Laughs

2005-10-06T01:32:00.000-07:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

Here is Bubble Boy again, torturing his nose with a chip clip. I can't help but giggle every time I look at this photo. He's such a goofy little boy.

I Just Felt Like It

2005-10-04T18:27:00.000-07:00

I was thinking about all the things that make me deliriously happy (and let me tell you that the list seems to never end), when it occurred to me that I've never sat down and actually thought about all the songs that I love. I overheard someone doing this today as they made a list of music to download for a road trip. There are so many great tunes that when I hear them while in the car or when I’ve stumbled across an old cassette tape (yes, I still have a few of those), I can't help but smile and hum along. Um, okay sometimes I just belt out the words like a moron if no one’s looking. I wanted to start an inventory of them today… well... just because I feel like keeping track of the pleasurable things in life.

1. John Lennon “Imagine”
2. Tori Amos “Precious Things”
3. Ani DiFranco “Superhero”
4. Janis Joplin “Me and Bobby McGee”
5. Beethoven “Symphony #5”
6. Bob Marley “Stir It Up”
7. Sarah Brightman’s version “Pie Jesu”
8. Etta James “At Last”
9. Chet Baker “My Funny Valentine”
10. Tori Amos “Icicle”
11. Patsy Cline “Crazy”
12. Britney Spears “Slave 4 U”
(Shut up. Just shut yer mouth. It’s my list, not yours. No snickering!!!)
13. Bob Marley “Guava Jelly”
14. Melissa Etheridge “Sleep While I Drive”
15. John Hiatt “Have A Little Faith”
16. Sophie B. Hawkins “Damn, I Wish I Was Your Lover”
17. Sarah Brightman “Harem”
18. Ani DiFranco (live version) “Both Hands”
19. Charlotte Church’s version “Habanera”
20. Kenny Loggins’ “Danny’s Song”
21. Paula Cole "Feelin' Love"

The best songs ever created:

1. Santo and Johnny “Sleepwalk”
Classic. Haunting. Gives me shivers every time.

2. Van Morrison “Into the Mystic”
Ah.. like butter. This song makes me want to be a hippy chick, living on some communal farm with a large group family, a couple of braids in my red hair which flows freely down my back, doing some titillating belly dancing and making love under the twinkling stars. Mmmm.. yeah.

3. The Who “Teenage Wasteland”
It's really hard to listen to this song in the car when all I want to do is get up and dance around, slamming into things, beating on my chest and releasing lots of pent up passion.

4. Jimmy Buffet “Margaritaville”
I named my first major design project Margaritaville because it was an unusual vacation home set on the South Carolina coast. I wanted peace and quiet instead of the chaos and anger I experianced during that period in my life. Margaritaville was my happy place and the song is the perfect anthem.

5. Annie Lennox’s version “Waiting in Vain”
I was listening to Bob Marley this summer and I had heard Annie's rendition from the movie Serendipity but for some reason it took 3 months to connect the two as being the same song. I love Marley, but Annie wins with this version hands down.

And that’s pretty much in the perfect order too.

He Only Thinks He's a Lawyer

2005-10-04T10:10:00.000-07:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

But he's got business cards, and that makes it official, so I guess he's legit.

Actually, I hear he's a damn good lawyer. In fact, he's good at lots and lots of things. And he's a saint for putting up with everyone's teasing. But we know he secretly loves the attention.

(D.- next time you can hold the hand of any girl you find attractive. This, I promise you.)

Bubble Boy

2005-10-03T14:44:00.000-07:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

As evident by his smug look, this young man thought it was pure genius to catch bubbles on his tongue and hold them out for the world to see. His father said "So if he's doing this and he ends up swearing, are we to wash his mouth out with soap? Would that make any difference?"

I really don't think so.

(This photo was taken while at the Eugene Celebration Parade on Saturday. We were surrounded by bubble blowers and kids that liked catching the bubbles using a variety of techniques and body parts.)

34

2005-09-28T07:24:00.000-07:00

This Is What I Have To Look Foward To...

2005-09-27T07:15:00.000-07:00

Surf's Up

2005-09-26T07:33:00.000-07:00

Deady Hall

2005-09-24T09:42:00.000-07:00

© Punkin Dunkin Productions

School starts Monday for UO students. I'm looking forward to physics, functions, applied social research and a senior thesis. Joy Joy...

I've gathered up the courage (finally!) to attend the Eugene Weblogger Get-together next week. I'm sure my camera and I will have lots to report back with.

Desert Path

2005-09-23T02:01:00.000-07:00

Afternoon Sky

2005-09-20T09:06:00.000-07:00

Fort Rock Field Trip

2005-09-18T17:14:00.000-07:00

"I Believe In God, Only I Spell It Nature." -Frank Lloyd Wright

2005-09-17T07:46:00.000-07:00

Ben

2005-09-16T00:12:00.000-07:00

Untitled

2005-09-14T09:20:00.000-07:00