Farenheit 451

Everyone in the household is sick. Today after work when others were napping, I read. I was surprised to find I'd never read this. Of course I found something in it with which to relate.

It was the bum's grandfather that really moved me. Bradbury's language always gets me going. My favorite of his writings is Dandelion Wine. 451 had a similar flavor. I think that was made me catch my breath at the mention of the grandfather. I'm not a philanthropist, I'll probably never have enough money to make a big difference. But the two paragraphs that describe the grandfather and the grandfather's philosophy and ethic echoed my own.

I'm not as good as a well written piece of surreal fiction, but the thing about Bradbury is that even though his premises are fiction, the people he places there are real.

Growing older

So today is just another Monday. I'm bummed about the election. I really really wanted HRC. I used to respect John McCain. Somehow he quit being John McCain and became a Republican party shill. Obama never really fired my imagination. He seems too hopeful and inspiring to actually get anything done. Sarah Palin, well, lets just say that at least she's pretty. For a pitbull.

I'm looking forward to autumn. I'm done at usps the end of the month. I expect to have adventures in blue collar work and maybe do some massage after that. I love working with my hands. I adore working with people. I want a job with a lot of social contact and flexibility for my yoga classes and running. Writing would be great too. Massage is wonderful but you just don't get interaction with clients. They usually are so zoned out or asleep you have to coax them off the table at the end of a session.

I need to start getting yearly mammograms, so I've got that going for me. I'm still looking for nice group of people to hang out with. I've decided to explore this poly-thing a little closer. It doesn't surprise me that people would get together to support each others ideas about sexual lifestyle. It does make me nervous. Sometimes I feel absurdly fringe. And I'm not even wiccan or any of the other billion things many people who live this way are. I expect I will engage with and adore them. Then our lives will take us all in different directions and we will adore each other from afar. In a way, I can't wait.

My ring is at the jeweler's. It is getting sized. I love it. I'm so happy to be marrying Mike. I anticipate each day the things we will do and discover together.

Oh, here's some of the bookmarks on my computer. Sometimes when I'm bored I go looking for anything new. Maybe you like that too.

http://lavenajohnson.com/
http://bloomingwriter.blogspot.com/
http://www.violentacres.com/
http://jezebel.com/5027322/we-cant-be-friends-because-your-girlfriend-says-so
http://postsecret.blogspot.com/
http://icanhascheezburger.com/

and my favorite
http://www.snuggie2u.blogspot.com/

Pi Time

To my fan: I need another tea bowl. I love that pale blue and tan glaze.

KTHNX

Cheating

I should be asleep. Yet here I am, at my desk, my left shoulder is throbbing and I can't bring myself to quit. I'm addicted.

I'm not overly concerned by it. I'm just running out the clock at this point. Mike has been super busy with Jim. Jim is a great friend of his from the most recent start up. They've been climbing mountains and drinking beer. I've been playing computer games and writing.

Jim leaves for the east tomorrow. I hope he enjoyed his visit. I have yet to get him a copy of The Monkeywrench Gang. I'll have to mail it. I wonder if he will like it.

There is just something about being a girl that's making me go sour. Maybe its not so much being a girl as being a girl friend. I felt like the third wheel around the boys this weekend. I'm not the type to get resentful easily, so it isn't a problem. But I was surprised to realize I was uneasy.

I didn't feel like either guy was tired of having me around or anything. I think it is just that I accept Mike has a life apart from me. Seeing him with one of his buddies placed him out of context. Also, since we are generally one of those sickening lovey-dovey kinds of couples, I was self conscious about affection. It seemed like high school again. Next time I get together with Steph I'll have to ask her if she's going thru a kind of deja vu also. Its probably just me because I tend to live a small life. Most of my friends have been situational. I hang out with Bob or sometimes visit with folk from work. Mostly I focus on them and what they think about things. Just like school, when we had lunch room friends. Now that I'm older and my kids are requiring less actual attention I feel the lack of relaxed easy going pals.

Mike has those in spades. The interesting thing is, he doesn't care. I suspect that this is because he is far more interesting than I am. I want outside stimulation. I love stories and "OMG, you won't believe this!" Mike is bored by that. Possibly its because amazing things happen to him all the time. He just wants to come home and relax. I want to mix it up. I like to be entertained.

I love the stories people relish telling. When I was doing massage and a man would get self conscious about his relaxation response, I would ask him about the first time he fell in love. It was amazing to see the change that would come over him. His face would soften and I would hear stories that always emphasized the beauty in people. Also, erections just disappeared. I loved that kind of work. It was a little bit sneaky. Thinking happy thoughts makes people happy. It built my rep as a great massage therapist, so I won't complain.

It seems that the error is most likely with me. It most likely wasn't that the dynamic was thrown off as much as I can't help being a girl. A very silly girl.

Hiking

Hiking has been looming large in my life as of late. I think I'll get one of those topo maps of the mountains surrounding Salt Lake. That way I can stick a pin in all the trails I'm coming to recognize. It will take me decades to explore even half of them.
The one thing I have learned about the local hiking trails is that they make me lonesome for southern Utah.
I didn't expect to miss it so much. I don't think I even really liked living there. But each morning I wake up listening for coyotes and if I'm up early enough, looking for stars. I miss the cat piss smell of the desert after a rain. I miss the thick grainy dust you could grind in your teeth, all red and sandy. Here dust is ugly grey. Its someone else's dirt. I miss the mud so thick it would suck your shoes off if you tried to cross it. I miss lightening storms and the smell of rain drifting across the desert with a lushness of cool. I miss the sudden smell of alfalfa and sound of farming sprinklers. I miss livestock. I miss the way they smell and especially they way they sound. I miss the clank of bells and chewing and lowing. I miss the call of peacocks. I miss the whine of a lone truck on the highway. I miss the hiking in the coolness of a pine forest. I miss the knee high grass of mountain meadows and sponginess of unexpected waterways. I almost never hear the hum of insects any more.

There is too much of everything in a city. There's too much money and noise and dirt. Theres too much demanding my time.
I love it here to, though. Against all odds I'm finding myself a part of this valley filled with strangers. I chat with the woman in the grocery store about the heavenly scent of ripe fresh tomatoes. I know the clerk at my local gas station. The faces in my neighborhood are familiar, if not well known. I like that. Sometimes, in the country, people get to know you too well. Actually I don't believe that. I don't think people can get to know each other too well. But in the city, it seems, people are more forgiving. There is so much more that requires patience, if not attention. Lines are longer, traffic is bigger, you don't even know the name of your mailman.

When I was growing up I wanted to get as far away from southern Utah as possible. I wanted to go somewhere where people did important things. I wanted to mingle with people like me, or like I thought I was. I thought a lot more of myself than there turned out to be.

Now all I really want is to go home. I want to live out on the road to the dump or something like it in a little desert town. I want the mountains and creeks and canyons and coolness to be 20 minutes away. I don't mind if the only grocery store in town closes at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night and isn't open at all on Sunday. I want to hear crickets and domestic geese and chickens. I want to hear coyotes call on a lonely evening and see jack rabbits fly across the road in front of my car. I want big hunks of red sandstone stained black with weather to lay down on when the sun is high in a pale blue sky. I want wood to chop and garden hoses gushing well water to grow my tomatoes. I want a clothesline so I can dry my clothes in all that beauty and then wear it on my back.

Body

I learned something today. True, I learn something most days, but today I learned that current law doesn't necessarily hold the idea that we own our bodies.

Apparently this thought was codified in 1976. It pertains to discoveries made from donated and excised tissues. Basically the idea is that once something is drawn out or cut off, it becomes the property of whomever it was that did the drawing/cutting or agents acting for another entity. This is basically the reason that medical research and development can move forward.

What an interesting concept. Firstly, as a feminist I can't help but think how this idea can be applied to a woman's right to chose when or if to become a parent. I'll assume that it isn't practical to do so because it hasn't. I haven't read the pertinent court cases lately but I seem to remember that the primary reason a woman is allowed abortion is to guarantee her right to privacy, not because she has right to rule over her own body.

So I guess its time to read some John Locke. I remember him from college classes. I can't believe that something as contemporary as current medical research is governed by law that predates the Constitution. I could understand it as a basis for newer rulings, much as we think back to the Magna Carta as a basis for individual rights and protections, but there has been at least hundreds of cases and interpretations that add to it.

As a consumer this approach makes me afraid.

A few years ago The Onion ran an article explaining that Microsoft had patented 1s and 0s. As far as I know patenting natural processes and genetic information is the closest thing to that spoof.

To wed or not to wed

The answer is wed.

We worked out our divorce the other night. Not bad for just under a week of confirmed engagement. The good news about having an exit strategy, is that you have an exit strategy. It is like knowing where the fire exits are on a plane. You are relatively confident that you won't be using them. But it would be disasterous if you need them and can't find them. Plus it just underscores what I love about being with Mike, we talk about things that make us uncomfortable just to make sure that we can rely on each other if things get bad.

Of course his response to my concern of wanting a divorce is indicative of his charm or my gullibility. I think that almost 6 years of either is good indication that it will continue. Hopefully devoid of disasterous consequences.

Me: We need something like a prenup. I mean, what if we reach the point that we need to not be together anymore.

Him: Well, I may have some money

Me: I don't mean a money prenup. I mean some type of emotional marker, so that we know if we are unhappy enough to split up.

Him: I don't care if I'm unhappy. So I suppose we should divorce if you want a divorce.

As a matter of fact, I think if you think you want a divorce we should get one early. Be aggressive about it because the sooner we do it, the sooner we can start dating again.

:)

He loves me. And he wants to always have me in his life. I love the pants right off him and even though I'm a skeptic and more than a little afraid, I'm excited and happy to marry him. After all, if it doesn't work out, we can just live together.

Kung Fu Panda

This movie totally won me over. I'm not a hard core kung fu fan. I watch the current films. I've seen some Bruce Lee. I've seen even more Jason Lee. I love the action film and adore Jet Li.
I didn't have much hope that I would dig this movie. But I do. I'll probably see it again and in the theater no less. Only the stupid Hollywood "believe it and it will happen," crap marred the overall "awesomeness" of this cartoon.

So 'nough said.

Here's the plan boo boo.

I'm going to ride the writing train in earnest. Get ready for advice about girls for guys with other things to think about. Finally, a reason to be thankful for all my past drama. If you have suggestions or questions, just email me at jamie.something@gmail. It will be super to apply my specific kind of knowledge to issues. Super for me anyway.

Also, I've been thinking for years about what songs to have my children play at my memorial service. So far I have Raspberry Beret, Canned Heat, Blackmagic Woman, Brickhouse, Play that Funky Music, and Fields of Gold as sung by Eva Cassidy. Today I figured out what I'd have put on a headstone if they chicken out and don't donate my remains to the university. Its going to be "Later Losers"

Time and tide wait for no man

I, on the other hand, am in a constant state of waiting.

Next weekend I get to go on the Men's Trip to Idaho. I don't want to wait, but here I am. I'm so looking forward to it, drinking, fishing, laying in the sun. This winter was particularly snowy and wet. I didn't feel it like I did the year before. It is so much easier, even with wet feet and a tempremental vehicle, with L. around.

Last weekend was beautiful. It was the full nice weekend of the year. I should have been in southern Utah attending my neice's wedding. But because of car rental mixups and an unreliable handy man, I spent a nice portion of it drunk and lying in the sun at the Holladay gun club.

If there is anything sexier on a Sunday morning than fresh sunshine and cool breezes and the smell of cordite, I'd like to know it.

That's how I wrangled the invite to Idaho. I've been wanting to go for years. My friend's family has a cabin that has been engulfed by a national park. Of course the water is probably way too cold for skinny dipping. That is really a bummer. I think I would actually take my 41 year old body and skinny dip. I've lost a lot of the self consciousness about my body that I used to have. I blame the love of a good man along with the education provided by my age. Things (including nudity) just aren't as big of a deal as they were even 10 years ago.

I'll make rice krispy treats and cookies. I'll buy a couple of six packs of that apple cider that I love so much. I'll lay in the sun and in front of the fireplace and walk alone on the country roads.

Haircuts and lies

Today I needed to get my hair cut.
I could have let it go, getting longer and more unruly. There comes a point in hair neglect where it stops looking worse each day. It levels off.
I hate my hair. Then I love my hair. Mostly I hate it. I would shave it all off but then I'd have to spend more time keeping it away by shaving. That would be giving it more attention than it is worth. Its only hair. Its also the only thing about me I have ever cried about. I am thinking about crying now.
My hair cut is cute. Its a short stacked a line bob with bangs. The auburn tones bring out the rust color of my eyes. The color gives me constant grief. It is a beautiful color. I know women pay lots of money to get hair my color. But it is the same color my mother's hair was once. That was before she lost her mind completely. One summer the color leeched entirely from her hair. It became an old yellowed newspaper kind of blond. I look at my lovely hair and all I see when I think of me is my mother. If I disassociate, which I seem to be able to do at will, I notice how pretty it is. I notice the way my cheekbones actually jut out beside my ears. I see good, clear eyes with only a little bit of purple undertones beneath them.
The craziest thing is that I love the way I look. I love the softness of my skin and the substantialness of my frame. I am sturdy. I am distinctive. When I was growing up the kids in my schools always thought I looked like an exchange student, maybe from France, maybe Italy or Russia.
At 41, I think I am aging well, except for this constant watch for signs that my mother is emerging from my skin. To be fair, it isn't a new fear. I was terrified of it when my oldest was small. I was worried I'd be cruel or hard or neglectful of her. I cared so much for her I couldn't invest myself or my heart into her. I was afraid that something would happen to take her away from me. The anxiety didn't dissapate until I had her sister. Then it came back in torrents. My mother had two daughters. Was I turning into her?
Nowadays I don't worry too much about going crazy. I figure it may happen. Much therapy has reinforced that I will not act out the same kind of crazy my mother did. I think that should it happen, it would be something less destructive toward my children. The fact that the youngest is almost 14 bears that theory out. She seems close to fine. The thing that worries me is how surprised and shocked I am to look in the mirror and identify my reflection as someone besides myself. I never expect to see my mother and it scares me that at my adult age I her, even though I've built my life to protect myself from her.
A couple of therapists I've seen in the course of becoming safe have diagnosed me with PTSD. And anxiety. Of course. Can't have one without the other.
I wonder how many more decades before it goes away. I figure I get bored with everything eventually, so why not this? What hold does it have over me?
I wish, when I think about it for very long, that my mother was dead. Blocking her out of my life hasn't been enough. I think about the day I learn she died, really died, and I think that will be the day that I really start living. I didn't really know how much like my hair, I love and hate her. Guess I will think about it some more.