The One... The Only... The Vieve

Book bloggin'

I recently wrote a post for the Porter Square Books blog, and here 'tis:

We read books for so many reasons: for entertainment, enlightenment, information, thrills, amusement, inspiration, escape. But when the world is topsy-turvy and novelty seems utterly undesirable, books can bring comfort.

Lately I've been reading my comforting books, the books I grew up reading, which are old friends that have served me well long into adulthood.

Madeleine L'Engle's "Time" series tops the list, and gives me something new to think about -- about the nature of time, the universe, human relationships, good and evil -- each time I revisit them. These books were spellbinding when I first read them over 20 years ago, and even after a dozen more readings, they still elicit the same thrill.

I also reread Harriet the Spy, a classic that seems both timeless and nostalgic. What 11-year-old child can wander around Manhattan so freely these days? It makes me wish for my very own Ole Golly.

Next, I think I'll go back to my favorite Roald Dahl book, The Wonderful Story of Henry Sugar and Six More, Edward Eager's Knight's Castle, and Tove Jansson's Finn Family Moomintroll. They're all childhood books that aren't the least bit childish, that absorb my heart and my head in equal measure, and that serve as touchstones I can go back to again and again.

What are your comfort books?

Since I wrote that on Sunday, I have read the Roald Dahl book and Finn Family Moomintroll, but I can't find my copy of Knight's Castle (time for a trip to the book store!), so I'm rereading The Golden Compass now. Also, I forgot to mention Anne of Green Gables, which was just as sweet (without being too mushy) as I remembered it.

So, I ask you, too: What are your comfort books? What do you read again and again?

Medicine

This radical self-reliance thing is good for me, I think, but it does get kind of lonely.

House mommy strikes again

I just barely saved the ice, ice, baby.

Truckin'

So, I am on a goddamn roll this week. I fear that when I put it into writing, it won't sound as impressive, but:

• I am now (admittedly, with some help and the surrender of some CDs I stashed away) now caught up on my taxes, both 2007 and estimated for Q1 and Q2 of 2008. *HUGE SIGH OF RELIEF*
• Had an eye exam, and should have new contact lenses next week, so I can swim without blindness and wear my favorite sunglasses.
• Have plane tickets to visit my favorite person ever and her husband and dog and 14 goats in NC. I'll be there for a week starting 7/1.
• Have taken care of many other odds and ends this week, including mailing a few packages I've been meaning to send for about a month, which include nice, fun things that will make some people very happy (or at least mildly appreciative).
• Finally put new sheets on my bed this morning, which does not sound like a big deal, but is a chore I really really loathe and seems to take forever (owing to the position of my bed, my diminutive stature, and my floppy down comforter, which is a bitch to wrestle with). The results are well worth it, though.
• Have some big plans in the works and a big decision to go along with them, which I will not discuss yet, but should have a fix on in a couple of weeks.

The only things left on my to-do list now are going to the mechanic to get my car fixed (a biggie, will happen next week), staking up the rose bush that's all floppy (should not be my job, really, but it looks ugly and I must do it), and getting a pedicure (yay! but somehow have not gotten around to this yet).

Not bad for a week's work.

Ow

Gay Pride Jell-o shots, while tasty and aesthetically pleasing, are fundamentally evil.

I think I'm spending the day in bed. Particularly if someone would be so kind as to fetch me some coffee and a burrito from Anna's.

Meh.

Trashy novels

And never before had our loving been as it was that day -- a dizzying, dazzling achievement of oneness that wiped out the last shreds of doubt as a clean flame cuts through clinging cobwebs. I had not known the barrier was there until it went down and I knew I was free of it forever.

Yes, complete trash. But it's fun, and a nice distraction.

And tonight I feel OK being by myself and reading on my porch. I enjoy it, I had a good day, and I'm not so upset by what others might be doing without me.

Do what you will. And I will do the same.

Almost lovely

I woke up this morning, about halfway, and felt delicious and drowsy and comfy. I sighed a little (a nice hmm-y sigh, not an irritated, hmmph-y sigh) and nestled down into my pillows, still half asleep. I felt peaceful and light, more relaxed than I've felt for forever.

And then I started thinking about taxes, and it was all shot to hell.

But that moment was very nice, all the same.

Ready... steady...

OK. Commence the end of the wallowing...

Now!

Reciprocity

Telling someone you love them, and then not hearing it back, not even when you've heard it before (and have to believe they meant it), is disappointing. It's unconditional, though, and it doesn't make me mean it any less.

My life right now

To risk alienating myself further and scaring away all potential fun-bringers, this list represents my life at the moment (though, "this too shall pass," right?):

• Shut up in my room, working
• Shut up in my room, blowing my nose
• Shut up in my room, thinking, mostly of things that make me cry, make me angry (often at myself), make me resentful, and make my stomach hurt, though occasionally make me laugh
• Shut up in my room, wondering what other people are doing and where they are
• On my porch, reading Bonk, which is a very good book
• Shut up in my room again, writing here, and waiting for... something

Little pitchers

I've learned that I pay attention more than most. I think I notice more things (though I know that sometimes I am oblivious), and care about them more, sometimes to an uncomfortable degree.

I don't think this is necessarily a bad quality, but it leads to a lot of disappointment and hurt feelings, I think because I'm forever surprised when it's not reciprocated. Even though I should know better by now.

It would be good to discard this last part of it, and sometimes I can, but it keeps coming back, like a piece of lint that keeps sticking to your shirt. Or maybe I should just try to be more selective about the things I care about.

I don't know. What seemed like a fairly simple insight is now impossibly muddled.

Awkwardnesses

Sometimes I find awkward situations amusing or interesting. Sometimes, though, they are just awkward. And tiring.

I was kind of anticipating the most recent example, and I'm not particularly upset about it, but it does raise some questions. Don't quite feel like asking them now, though.

p.s. - I am still full of snot.

Blergh

I am sick and full of snot. My chest hurts, and my throat is swollen to exciting proportions. This happened, of course, just as I was finishing my antibiotics for strep, which was mild and didn't make me feel very yucky at all. Now I feel like ass. Damn it.

I am stuck in bed on the first really summery weekend, after a week of clouds and rain, and I am feeling petulant. Like a little kid. I want to go out and play, but I guess I will do work and drink tea instead. Just when I was feeling ready to get out and un-hermit myself.

Oh well. What can you do.

Cute thing for my torso

So I just bought this shirt. It is cute, and maybe it will make me feel a little better. Also, I very probably got the last one they had, so maybe my luck is turning around? That would be nice, too.

The snot in my chest, however, is not nice, and neither is my spacey-stuffy head. Yargh.

Well, hell

So I guess I fell off the wagon last night, so to speak. Dinner was not eaten until far too late, I did not use my nightguard, I fell into an exciting and faintly hysterical emotional rabbit hole and tried to drag someone else down with me. (I am sorry.)

So I feel very bad about this (and no half and half for my coffee is not helping matters). But I know it's not the end of the world, or the end of better things, or the end of anything. Today is a new day, blah blah. So I'll dust myself off, try to forgive myself (and hope others do as well), and do my best today. What else can I do.

Where can we run to

There's no place to hide, sometimes. When the well of disappointment, built up over a lifetime, overflows, to the point where we can't contain it, where can it go?

People have limits, I know this. And boundaries, which I respect. They're important, and you have your own shit to deal with, always. I do, too. And sometimes I have to (and have had to) say, Enough. I'm full.

But when you are full, and everyone else is full, where can it go? I have people I pay (yes, more than one) to listen to me, or facilitate that listening. But it's not the same. They don't know you, really know you. They're sounding boards. Important, but not the same as understanding. They do, and need to, keep their distance. This is professional, not personal.

What to do then. When pain is felt but not reasonable, nor articulate. When life is shifting but the same old shit, just sparked anew and in different contexts and flavors. When it's too much to hold, too much to feel, too much to deflect. What do you do.

I really don't know. I'm just asking.

And when I'm telling, I'm not blaming, or demanding, or beseeching, or anything. I'm just spilling out the overflow. I'm communicating (which doesn't come easily). I'm trying to make sense of the insensible. Trying to clear it out and make way for something else.

I'm always trying to make way for something else, better, transcendent. I don't want to live in the shit either. Just trying to clear a path. And will help you do it, too, whenever I can.

Two-fer

Another responsible, fairly angst-free night, and up, dressed, and making coffee a little after 8 a.m. It kind of feels like I'm in training for a "real job."

And the routine feels good in a gentle way, and comforting. I kind of wish I were having fun and striding forward into my life with vigor and confidence (or something like that) instead of just maintaining, but I guess this is what I need right now.

Housekeeping

I've had to face some hard truths about myself lately. The fact that I am more broken than I thought. That no one can fix me but me. That the problems I thought were just someone else's are also mine, and maybe mine to an even greater degree. I have a lot of work to do, and no one else can do it for me.

But last night I was alone, and I didn't panic (for long) or feel too empty. I ate an OK dinner at a decent hour (salad! And also mashed potatoes and a brownie, but hey). I didn't drink too much (one small cocktail). I did some work work and watched a little TV and worked on some knitting. I washed my face and brushed my teeth and actually wore my nightguard to keep me from cracking any molars while I clench my jaw in my sleep. (It's kind of amazing how much teeth can shift over the months. Hurt like a bitch, but I know I should use it.) Fell asleep at a decent hour, and when I woke up briefly at 1 AM (and 3, and 4, and 6...), the TV wasn't on and I didn't have cookie or soy crisp crumbs all over me.

This morning I took a shower instead of throwing on dirty clothes from yesterday. Opened my mail, which was all from only the past couple of days instead of the past couple of weeks. I updated some things to reflect recent changes in my life, which was hard but not quite as hard as I thought it might be. (Though I think it was much harder for me than you, which made me sad. Manageably so, though. I think.)

These seem like silly things to notice and appreciate, but I've never been very good at these simple things. But I would like to be, and this will take work. And it makes me sad that I haven't yet mastered so many basic things related to taking care of myself.

I need routine and stability right now, I guess. Dependable people. (And I've had some insights into this recently as well, which have hurt.) This seems boring when I think about it. But at least it's not crazy-making, and I think I've had enough crazy to last a lifetime.

So sorry

I feel so sorry.

You know I do.

And I can't even say why.

Success

Success in small things.

My morning glory and/or moonflower seeds have started sprouting. Little bits of pale green poking above the brown.

I finished my scarf. Imperfectly (the bind-off left a straggling loop, but I managed to finagle it flat when I wove in the end), but it looks pretty enough.

I pruned the gnarly lilac bush out front, and snipped away the dead flowers. Trimmed some of the dead pieces away from one of the rose bushes as well, though with bare arms and legs, so it looks like I got into a minor tussle with a semi-feral kitten.

Paid bills and some taxes yesterday. I still owe more than I want to think about, but it's progress.

Small things, but worth mentioning.