Eye · of · the · Blackbird

Our highly favored and much adored orange male cat, Ken, got his ass handed to him by the straggly white stray last night. We'd been just letting things go how they would when Ken was the one driving off the stray whenever it tried to get in the house (every night) but the white cat finally bested him somehow.

Tony and I were up in arms after that. Nobody messes with our sweet Ken.

( cut for pics and length )

Today is Tony's run-around-to-appointments-from-morning-to-night day. I'm about to sneak the car over to get myself some coffee before he leaves. Maybe I'll grab the water jug too so I can fill it up at the store.

Is this first dress more like:


Something a Gelfling from Dark Crystal would wear to hunt mushrooms?


Or something Stevie Nicks only wears around the house?

( The picture quiz continues. No, I'm serious. There's more. )

I got an A for my psych class. She gave me a perfect score on both the video summary and article review papers even though I slammed on her for making us watch a graphic, cruelty-filled psych film with no warning about its contents. Maybe deep down she knows its true about the documentary she is requiring. I wonder if she is still gonna make people see it next term.

It's rainy and cool and dark. I feel like a portion of my soul came back alive again. That part is asking me why I am not happy. I had forgotten why I should even question my despondence. Instead, my exhausted habit has been to use it to quietly beat myself up for not being better at feeling better. Just a low hum of defeat I hadnt really noticed until the estranged portion of me was able to return. That part of me has the strength to love this life and to remind me of what is dear. I just can't think clearly enough to find my bearings in the heat, glare, and humidity of this climate. I feel like I was bred to live somewhere dimmer and cooler. The dark-loving region of my heart is so much more vast. It can carry me along when I am full of doubt in a way the bleached-out portions of my experience simply don't. Accessing my resources during this unnatural season is difficult at best and impossible to sustain.

Summer makes me severely lop-sided emotionally, and even physically. It strains the systems of my body, calling false alarms of allergen invaders and screwing up my sleep cycles. It's like being in a land with nothing familiar, nothing to remind me what's living in my imagination or my heart. As the heat glares on impassively, I find the doors are shut inside and I am in exile from the real me most of the time. I can't sense an inner bedrock of sureness anymore and haunting bittersweet certainties won't risk a crossing to meet with me in such an alien place. Everything smells like hot cotton candy and burns at my nerves like the singed fur of a moth battered against hot ceiling lights in many treacherous and confused attempts to find its way.

I forgot to pick my sister up from the airport this morning. I was alarmed when I realized she'd texted my phone this morning asking where I was, but when I caught up with her in person later and apologized (besides the apology I left on her voicemail when I couldnt reach her) she said it was no big deal and that she'd have actually called my phone if it mattered to her. She took the max home from the airport.

Is she being nice or is this actually okay?

My instinct says I really do suck for not remembering my obligation. It's not her job to call and remind me to pick her up. We talked about it only about 4 days ago, and I agreed to it, wrote it on my calendar, and everything. The problem is, I didnt happen to look at my calendar much after that.

It was an honest mistake, but it was also a thoughtless thing to do. I never know what the guilt factor should appropriately be. I felt horrified when I realized (way too late) that I'd forgotten she was coming back this morning. I also worried that she's just being nice to gloss over the painful fact that her sister is clearly not paying her enough attention in life. Then again, if she's honestly not holding any resentment over this (which the whole time we gabbed I honestly felt like it didnt matter to her) then isn't it kind of sick for me to feel just as crappy about it as if she'd been enraged? Or is that letting external circumstances dictate my conscience to me?

The extra coverings on my windows in the bedroom have worked! I didnt wake up until 730am!! That's two hours of extra sleep I was not able to get before. Also, I forgot to mention, I put a giant air filtering machine into the bedroom and ran it last night. My allergies were noticeably better too.

To make the morning even more pleasant, it is totally overcast outside. It's so beautiful. It brings out the best colors of green and a gentle stillness like the outdoors is actually contained by a planetary-sized arboretum. Everything seems gentler to me when it is overcast. There's just the mildest hint of fresh cold air traveling whimsically about amidst the stillness.

I'm listening to BlueMars' Cryosleep. It's one of my favorite streaming stations-- "zero beat guaranteed!" Here's the link to hear them.

Tony and I worked our asses off yesterday to get the house details caught up and to create our first ever proper living room space. It looks fantastically comfortable and functional now. Tony just got up a few minutes ago, and as soon as he gets dressed we'll be headed to the NE Community Center. While Tony is working out, I will be visiting the Starbuck's located next door.

I don't need a workout, personally. My muscles are all sore from hefting furniture yesterday. Even my hand muscles are sore from all the gripping and lifting! Plus, I've been hot, red-faced, and sweaty for most of the last week because any level of exertion during heat waves leaves me that way. The last thing I want to do with this overcast weather day I've been given is to get all red-faced, hot, and sweaty. NO. I've been on a mild weight loss trend the last few days, and that is going just fine on its own. Let the neutral weather be relished today!

I'm in such a better mood having some sleep and not waking up feeling feverish finally. The cooling system in the house isnt perfect, and August may still find me sitting in a tub of ice with a wet rag wrapped around my head... but for now, I'm coping again.

x-posted to summer_s_a_d

My bid on the sleep sounds machine on ebay is up from .99 to $3.25 now. Someone put in 4 more bids, but then seems to have dropped out of sight again. This is my first excursion onto ebay and it's bidding wars, so I'm not sure what to expect. I've got less than 24 hours left til the auction is over. I keep expecting some tricky thing where at the last five minutes twenty automatic bidding programs descend on my "top bid" and I'm left with no sound machine after all. I keep nervously wondering what is going to happen, and checking the link even though the ebay informational email claimed I would be notified if I got outbid so I'd have a chance to bid higher.

This sleep machine is a replica of one I had over a decade ago when I had several problems that inhibited me from falling asleep at night. I was severely dependent on it. When I finally got past the issues keeping me from sleeping normally, I gave it away in a celebration of my independence. Now, I'd like to hear it again. Before we moved from Troutdale, I was in the habit of listening to the sound of the ocean on my pc as I fell asleep, not as a necessity, but just for the peacefulness. Since we set up pc areas upstairs away from the bedroom at our new house, I havent been able to enjoy the sound of the ocean or my starmessage screen saver as I go to bed anymore. So, having the sleep machine back would be nice.

Just to set the stage a little, nothing went right yesterday. It wasnt super dramatic for the most part-- I kept trying to get things off craigslist and something would make it not work out or I'd expect to meet up with friends or family and they'd be unavailable, etc-- there was one incident I cant bear to speak of that embarrassed me and made me cry several different times, but it wasnt that big of deal in the cosmic scheme of things. When all was said and done, the day was not even "bad" as much as draining and somewhat futile-feeling. Notably, toward the end of the day, I wanted to give up on my diet as usual and get ice cream, but Tony talked me out of it, and I am really grateful as I think my feeling of grudging acceptance from that incident helped see me through to a better mentality today.

This morning, Tony and I were cuddling in bed and it was one of those moments that you know will stand out in your memory long after the day is gone. We giggled. We talked of whatever came to mind. At one point, I asked Tony what floor of the building a clinic was on because I wanted to do an exposure up in an elevator. I had assumed it was like the 8th floor. He said he thought it was on the 14th floor. Surprised, I cried out, "What? Are you fucking me?" In a few seconds, we were both laughing really hard because here we were entwined in each other's body, what a thing to say. Tony said, laughing, "uh, no, not right now..." and we were laughing... it was so interesting to laugh while twined with someone else who's laughing. I could feel us both jiggling and heaving as we cracked up over my slip of the tongue. I had meant to say "Are you kidding me?" Condensed down from, "Are you fucking kidding me?" but the urgency of my question had mischosen the wrong -ing word to leave in the sentence. lol.

I promised Tony that I would not ask anything of him this "weekend" (his days off) because I wanted to really notice and commemorate him working so hard to get to six months sober. He has had a couple of "tut tut" moments (private joke) where I started to ask him to do this or that, but the happy time we had this morning is 100% a result of my being present and not in planning mode or ideas mode because I was being mindful of not making demands. It opened my eyes to how important being available is, and how much happier I feel when there is a balance between making plans and enjoying what's here already.

Another really cool thing that happened this morning with Tony and I was that I found out that we are living on parallel spiritual paths. And we are becoming aware of it! I had struggled with two feelings since my recent recovery of spiritual direction. One was the effort of keeping my personal discovery to myself and the other was worrying that Tony was not interested in connecting that way with me. I worried that we would eventually drift apart with such an important thing not being developed openly together.

Now, I feel like my efforts to keep my spiritual epiphany protected and private (despite my usual urge to tell everything that happens to me) were rewarded this morning. Tony started spontaneously talking about what *he* has been learning about from a book recommended by one of his mentors and it was one of the exact same lessons I am learning about only in different words! It was really really cool. I took this as an omen that I should share the congruency of what I am learning about with him, and he was pleased too. Then, I told him about how I had been kind of hurt that he wasn't interested or curious about what my path had been on this topic lately. He told me he had seen in my journal how I was trying to be private about it and so even though he's been very curious, he was not asking me out of respect!!! I love Tony so much.

I felt greatly relieved and also rewarded. I feel I see the value and importance of learning my stuff on my own, and also that it's okay to share about it to my partner who, it turns out, is learning along very similar lines. The energy between Tony and I this morning has felt deeply genuine.

Tony and I are going to go on a hike as soon as I finish this entry. I don't know why or how it works, but somehow the less I try to make things happen, the more they do right by me.

I went back to the garage to see what the chirping noise was that the car was making. They told me it would be in and out. It turned out that they never noticed a chirping noise while they had it in back, but what they did notice was that one of the head gaskets was leaking oil, meaning it hadnt been properly installed. Now, we're in a loaner car, a luxury, station wagon-looking Subaru, until further notice. He said he'd call us on Tuesday to see if the problem was fixed by then. I can't believe we paid these people thousands of dollars and things keep being wrong with it still. On the plus side, they are acknowledging there's a problem and so hopefully when we get it back again next week, it will be tiptop finally.

A few minutes ago, I put my pinky finger under the hot water dispenser to see if it was warm enough yet to fill my tea cup. I had my pinky under the water stream and it's like I couldnt decide whether it was hot or cold pouring on my finger so I didnt move it out of the way. I really expected it to be cold water and then to slowly warm up, and so it took me quite some time (by nerve ending standards) to realize that the water pouring over the tip of my pinky finger was indeed BOILING HOT. Now, I'm having to keep my finger wrapped in wet papertowels or else it does that thing where it feels like it's burning still. I havent had that in ages... it's kind of taking me back to my teenage years.

The last time I really burned myself good was when I was at the Rocky Horror Picture Show midnight showing on Clinton St with my high school buddies. I was in the bathroom drunk on smuggled vodka to the point that I was resting my lit cigarette in my hand and didnt notice that the cherry was right on the tip of my pinky. I kept thinking something was mighty uncomfortable down on my hand somewhere, but I couldnt seem to connect to the idea that I had the power to do something about the problem until it was quite urgent. OMG, come to think of it, I burned the exact same pinky tip and everything then too! I am apparently slow to acknowledge burning sensations on my left pinky. Back then I had a large bottle of vodka to account for my slowness, but now, I guess I've just gotten a bit dim.

For the critique portion of my paper about the video I was assigned to watch, I let the college have it about the irresponsibility of making mandatory a film whose images were repeatedly cruel, degrading, and overly-graphic without even preparing the students or couching the film's content within an explanation of some sort at least.

I felt a lot better after writing this critique for the professor to read since I had to walk out on the film physically ill after coping with repeated, actual footage of child abuse, animal experimentation, and the degradation of mental patients and shell shocked soldiers, often deliberately filmed with no clothing. The objectification and impassivity reflected toward suffering by those not mentally identified with by the researchers *needed* explanation at the very least. Being impartial and "scientific" should not be interchangeable with being unethical** and sociopathic.

**Edited to add: Of course, my idea of what is unethical and desensitizing is radically different than some psych professor's idea, or even the majority of my peers, and so there you have it. *That* is why I had to be sickened to the core yesterday. Because I am not "normal" enough.

My honey is rubbing my back because he loves me SOOOOO much and knows that if he stops, I will freak out. No really. Are you listening? So, while it-- hey! Get back here! SO. While I must appreciate that Tony has other things to do with his time, I am still in a position (seeking to not lose my mind) of needing to type type type in order to make SURE that Tony *never* stops rubbing me. Did I say never? I meant, not tonight.

Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! (It's working!) AAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh--- ah- ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh... no this really did work... til right now. :( Good night all.

*note to readers... After I thought he'd stopped, Tony began my intense backrub again when he saw me typing into the subject line. Let this be a lesson to all of you... keep believing in your dreams and they WILL be coerced into coming true. ♥

I wanted to post about how back in 1996, I got really sick. I went to seemingly every doctor in the city, and specialists, trying to figure out what was going wrong with my body. Finally, after many months, I turned to the naturopathic community for help. They told me I had the symptoms of having been poisoned by something toxic and set to work helping me after all the other regular doctors had failed to do anything besides give me treatments for the symptoms that were not working at all.

I saw how the poisoning theory led to treatments that helped me and I struggled to remember when I'd been exposed to a poison. At one point, a practitioner asked me if I had been exposed to pesticides being sprayed and I remembered a single occasion when the window had been left open at my rental house and I could have breathed in pesticide. For many years, I have assumed that must have been the explanation, and the resulting chemical/allergen/food sensitivities to my system made a sort of sense in light of having been damaged by some chemical agent.

But then I read this article tonight while searching for info on exactly what tuna is okay to eat. It felt like a lightbulb went on right above my head when I read about mercury poisoning. I was always a big creature of routine with my foods. I loved tuna growing up and ate it in large amounts. The thing I never put together until now is that in the months right before I got really sick, I had gone on a strict diet that was supposed to be low carb high protein. What this amounted to was a can of tuna every day at lunch mixed with salad dressing and green beans. Sometimes, it meant having this same concoction at dinner. I was motivated to lose some weight. I ate like this until I got mysteriously sick, and then of course the diet, my job, my independence, and much of my lifestyle went to hell as I struggled with inflammations and sensitivities and "poisoning" symptoms.

( more here )

( about Ash coming home from the beach )
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( about my wedding dress situation )
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( about speaking up to my sister )
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( about a golem who keeps calling )
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( about class )
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( about grieving and Tony )

I woke up at around 5:30am this morning feeling hot, sweaty, and uncomfortable. It was probably from the decadently rich Cream Cheese Chocolate Brownie. I couldn't even finish it last night, I was so stuffed full of other forbidden goodies. The brownie and assorted evils I purchased came from a high end bakery where, frankly, they know how to make things that taste good enough to make it worth getting fat over. The problem with me is that I tend to surpass even that consequence in favor of both eating myself sick and fat.

When I found myself lying there miserably sick under the covers before it was even light yet, it occurred to me to get up and find out whether this was the sort of opportunity where if I managed to get going before dawn, I'd be that much more likely to get up super early tomorrow. I continue to maintain the perverse belief that if I could be someone who wakes up along with the sunrise, I would be following some ancient body ritual that would render me powerful, balanced, and whole for all my days.

I'm not sure how that works exactly, but I believe I have sensed the potential of it before. I seem to connect it with the birds twittering repetitively, expectantly, even though it's still dark. They never twitter at night, and yet they start up their chattering always right before the sky lightens. I believe part of the power of it lies somehow in the contrast of the quiet, chilly predawn air against my warm-bed-temperature skin, and in the bite of dew on my feet as I walk in the grass smelling the wet, dark lands that are about to be made visible soon. There's a sense of continuity and community to witness the waking up of the world that has gone on since there's been a world to wake up. My morning, my time here, is our morning and our time shared here again today.

I drank some detox tea which did wonders while I wandered around the backyard in my pajamas which, of course, got all wet in the tall grass. No one said it's a cozy thing to do; you have to acclimate to enjoying dawn, but it's worth it. The five cats happily braved the wet dark, despite it being as tall as they are, in order to come with me. They leapt over the wettest spots and slipped along the sides by the fence where things were more dry. At the far end of the yard, I turned to face the house. I sipped my tea and watched the light slowly give me more to see.

I felt like I received a measure of optimism and much-needed faith while outside this morning both in my abilities and in my connection to you all out there in the world with me.

Watching the dawn come is a magical, healing thing to do. It reminds me of the Native American Code of Ethics. Here are two versions I've listed below. They are different enough to be worth reading both. I tear up every time I read one. It's like deep deep down everybody out there loves and needs the very same things as I do. I love these very much and I had forgotten about it until today. Please feel welcome to read them too.

Sapphyr.net: Native American Code of Ethics

Evening Rain's Native American Indian Code of Ethics

Yesterday I got my office room reorganized in preparation for putting a cabinet in here. The cabinet (and other furniture I am going to try and cram into this space) is so there is a spot for towels and toiletries for the bathroom and assorted linens. The creators of this house did not believe in cabinets, closets, or towel racks.

( cut for pics )

I don't think I needed to try quite so hard in class today. Without uttering more than maybe five words the entire class period, I managed to completely max myself out by providing the group my focused attention, responsive laughter, facial cues, nods, listening, and eye contact.

The entire thing was a round table discussion on the war. It was made more interesting by the fact that in my small, outspoken class there is a native of Iraq, and an old army guy, a woman from Spain, a native of Mexico, and a woman who's husband is military but who herself is from Germany and liberal. And the topic was comparing/contrasting the wars we've been involved in! The teacher, without any stretch of imagination at all, is a heavyset doppleganger of Kirstie Alley. She talks, sounds, and looks like her as well as emulating a kind of rough and ready liberal, jokey style that I can easily imagine coming from Kirstie Alley as well. After the first hour, I gave up reminding myself that this was not, in fact, Kirstie Alley teaching the class. And by teaching the class, I mean, egging everyone on to loud and clashing debate on our first day. There was much conflict and controversy.

It's only ten weeks. I can do this.

( I'm sorry to offend everyone, but- )

I sliced open the tip of my middle finger on my left hand today. I was trying to wipe grime out from under the fridge, but the little metal grate down there has somehow managed to become as sharp as a large razor underneath. It was not a good feeling and it's impairing my typing even now. Plus, I got quite queasy while trying to get up the courage to look down at exactly how bad the cut was while I was pinching it shut over the sink. The ideas of throwing up and passing out both went through my head even though, really, it's just a cut. I'll say this much-- it's a deep enough cut to still hurt and need a new bandaid due to it reopening hours later. Ouchy.

Tony hugged me while I cried in relief on his shoulder once I faced down my anxiety enough to find out it was not the whole tip of my finger gone, like it felt initially. I'm a baby about injuries, okay, was that hard to guess about me?

We had a pretty chill afternoon after that. Tony was very mellow and sweet to me. I was very docile and sleepy. I think he sincerely enjoys the chances to be the comforter in our relationship that my anxiety quirks afford... maybe he knows how incredibly grateful I am to be with someone who will coo and fuss over me when I cut my finger. Whatever the reason, we had a really nice afternoon after that. I think it also broke the moving tension that had been building for the last week or so with me being really demanding and impatient toward us both about getting everything done around the house, and having things taken care of just so. After the great cut finger panic, we were both kinda cuddly and peaceful going about our business for the rest of the day. Weird huh?

I should be enjoying this time, savoring it. I'm not. I'm rushing through worrying that everyone else is going to wonder why the house isnt unpacked. I really worry that people around me think I dont do anything with my days since I am not working and only going to go back to school part time this spring term. It seems like my family and friends wonder when I dont answer my cell every time and feel disgruntled when I cant do stuff with them these days. I'm worried about making things orderly around here so i can get back to joining in with new projects and others' stuff and my worrying just causes me to try to tackle everything at once without any sense of rhythm or presence.

By the way, this is a pic of the grey kitty who is living on the horse farm now...

What a happy kitty.

( cut for length about Ash and pics )

I have a sliver in my foot. It woke me up aching this morning at 6am. I am not flexible and so bending my hip, knee, and foot upwards for long periods of time so I can scan and poke at my sliver site is tiring.

I cannot prove this yet, but I suspect the sliver is a piece of the pear juice bottle that crashed to the kitchen floor the other night. You try and try to get every piece of glass up, but it never happens.

I'm taking breaks between trying to dig out whatever is in my foot because of the whole not limber thing. I still cant see any sign of whatever is making that pain. Unfortunately, since the sliver woke me up, I gouged at the area with a needle in the bathroom before I was fully awake and so now I can't tell *what* the entry site originally looked like. Which direction is this thing going? How deep? Where should I poke? I still havent gotten a clear idea of how to get this thing out of my foot, but I'm about to try again.

I get squeamish at the idea that it is glass as opposed to a splinter of wood. With glass, when I poke and tweeze at it, I imagine it is cutting its way deeper into my foot where with a sliver of wood my only fear is that I'll break it and have to dig the rest of it out. Plus, glass splinters seem to always hurt worse than wood ones. Okay, let's try this again.

I got this from mkhobson cuz I had to know how my own journal breaks down...

The BLOGALYSER reveals...

Your blog/web page text has an overall readability index of 13.

This suggests that your writing style is conventional
(to communicate well you should aim for a figure between 10 and 20).Your blog has 11 sentences per entry, which suggests your general message is distinguished by complexity
(writing for the web should be concise).

CHARACTER MATRIX

male		female
self		world
past		future

Your text shows characteristics which are 55% male and 45% female
(for more information see the Gender Genie).
Looking at pronoun indicators, you write mainly about yourself, then the world in general and finally your social circle. Also, your writing focuses primarily on the present, next the past and lastly the future.

Find out what your blogging style is like!