Pharmaceutical Haiku

Who gets sick five times in one winter? (And it's only January.) It might have something to do with not actually sleeping. And cold, dark, damp gray days in Seattle. And a little physical manifestation of emotional turbulence.

In the meantime, I have discovered a new way to cope during the thick of it (ew, sorry). I had been operating under the assumption that cold and flu symptoms are your body's way of working out the virus, and the best way to combat these illnesses is to rest and to bombard your system with natural immune boosting things like Vitamin C, zinc, ginger, lots o' water, etc. I thought artificially suppressing your symptoms just prolonged the whole thing. But I have come to the end of my rope and am wearing out the sick days.

I will now share with you my delightful new discovery, which you probably knew about all along (in the form of inverse haiku, if there is such a thing).

Ode to Cold Medicine
I did not know about you.
You pack quite a buzz.
How on earth are you legal?

(If it gets me through my day; I'm not asking too many questions.)

Resolutions

1. Be more of a bitch (less putting everyone's feelings before my own).
2. Be less of a slave to bad habits (take responsibility for my choices).

Doing pretty well on the first one. Sorry, Donald.

How I Spent My Christmas Vacation

Wow. Snowpacalypse in Seattle. Normally, I love any excuse to stay in PJs and watch movies for days on end. But apparently when it is imposed on me, serious cabin fever/claustrophobia can develop. Especially when trapped in the vortex of childhood memories. There is only so much HGTV I can watch. And even catching up on my favorite TV series (thank you high speed internet), can only distract me from reality for so long. The demons eventually break through. It was interesting.

When I woke up to even more snow falling Christmas Eve and fought visions of being stuck home miserable and alone, I braved the snow to go buy the perfect paint to compliment my new purple wall in the dining room [see before and after].


But it worked out(ish). My parents made it in to the city despite the snow. I managed not to giggle when saying "ass" in front of the whole church. Then survived being stuck in a VW Passat with 5 people (1 with dementia), 1 40 lb dog, 3 pies, 1 violin, luggage and presents for 2.5 hours on the way to Mercer Island via Sea-Tac. Of course, the Xanax helped.

But I got a label maker and got to play Legos on Christmas. So maybe it's all worth it.

Happy Blogoversary

One year ago today, I started wearing my heart on the internet. "High Five" was born... kinda by accident, but it happened (obviously). And it has actually stuck around longer than I thought. Seems to do something for me. I forgot how much I enjoyed writing. Especially when no one is grading it. (Assuming you're not; please don't start now.) It's been all about finding my voice. Taking a risk. Putting it out there.

Who knew the adventures my blog would chronicle over the year? I think the high five story was a great start. And come on, the Trader Joe's/Craigslist saga was made for blog. I survived surprising heartbreak and even more surprising connection. If you told me this time last year that I'd be taking over my parent's house, I would have called you crazy. I wish I had more juicy stories to share lately, sorry. I'm working on it.

The act of writing/posting has had some interesting effects on me life. I've had the regular wrestling match with perfectionism with each post. And have been known to edit old posts when something amiss catches my eye.

But I swear the "no apologies" idea has steadily crept into the rest of my life. Or maybe that was already starting when I decided I should blog. Either way. I'm a little less worried about what people think. A little less worried about being acceptable. A little more WTF; in a very good way. Aren't I getting old and wise?! ('Bout g*d d*mn time.)

Blogging. Was a foreign, outlandish concept. Now feels like a normal way to express myself. Lucky you.

Nesting

Well, I'm settling in. I've had a few "what have I gotten myself into/when do I get to go home" moments, but also, more surprising, "I kinda feel like I'm home" moments. I was right about the ghosts. I still expect to hear the excited barking from Millie and Winnie in the kitchen when I walk in the front door. (Luckily there are two little black cats waiting for me to soften the heart-wrenching blow.) I keep looking at the painting in the hallway expecting to see myself in the mirror that hung there growing up. All the while, I am battling confusion about what is childhood emotion and what is adult reality.

But the stress of the move, the inability to rest until I'm unpacked and settled, feeling the need to decorate for Christmas, and general holiday angst have caught up with me. I've gotten sick twice in two weeks. And having trouble keeping my head above water. One morning I was feeling so tired, sick, discouraged, and trapped that I couldn't stand up long enough to brush my teeth (at which point, I decided it was time to call in sick).

But after a nap, I looked at the bathroom (while finally successfully brushing my teeth), and for some reason, felt compelled to start painting it the mocha/gray I used in the bathroom of my last house that went so well with the dusty purple towels. I may have been influenced by my new 24/7 access to HGTV... And it felt so good. Creative outlet. A fresh start. While the color it was before was fine, I was making it my own. Re-bonding with and claiming the space, one square foot of wall at a time.

It felt so good, in fact, that I decided to see how the red paint leftover from an accent wall in my last house would look on the kitchen wall. Then the other walls. Pretty soon I had a red kitchen. It's kind of a shock. But I like it. It's a tiny little kitchen and the rich color makes it feel cozy and cottage-y.



I feel completely different about those two rooms. Amazing what some paint can do. Now I'm dreaming of a rich tan bedroom and a purpley-mauve dining room wall with a collage of old plates hanging on it...

Prince Charming Works at Home Depot?

What does it mean when your parents want to set you up with their new best friend, the cabinet designer at Home Depot? And you laugh, but think, "Maybe I do need to swing by Home Depot and look for new kitchen hardware..."? Open minded? Or desperate?!

I'm feeling alarmingly OK with being single at the moment. I've had some male attention recently, but my brain is full of other things. So I don't think it is desperation. Do I finally have the full and happy single life I've been looking for? Or am I hiding and/or have I given up hope?

Or perhaps just focusing on other things for the moment. And feeling open but not compelled to force anything.

P.S. I did stop by Home Depot, half to help my parents with design decisions, half to get a look at this new best friend. He was nice, though seemed kind of timid. No big spark. Although, maybe flirting in front of your parents while he is at work would be a little awkward and possibly inappropriate. I may need to stop back by (alone) to look at lighting...

Facebook Nation

My newest passion. Virtual social interaction. Now I can be alone, but never alone. (I have 130 friends, tyvm.) There's always something happening with someone on there. Or games to play. Or quizes to take. (Who has a crush on me?) I'm all about social contact from behind the safety of my computer. (Seriously, though. I may be addicted. I think not being able to wait for you browser to refresh your live feed is a warning sign.)

It's a whole new twist on human intimacy. You can share everyday tidbits with a hundred of your closest friends, near and far. People make announcements of big life events, travel, sharing photos of thier kids, relationships... In fact, it seems to have created a whole new ritual around defining relationship. You know a relationship isn't official until your your status says so, and you know it is REALLY over when you change back to "single". (Unfortunately, one of my recent brief relationships never seemed to recover after I tried to show my growing affection by playfully suggesting I change my status to "in a relationship" - apparently he wasn't ready for that kind of virtual commitment!)

My younger "friends" are fun to watch. So much of their daily life is logged... music, plans, friends, health, hilarious videos of nothing and everything. Although some of them really have 500 friends?! Lately, even my 130 seems like a lot to manage, and I'm wondering how awful of a Facebook faux pas it would be to "un-friend" a few people I don't know that well, who I don't need to hear about ALL the time.

Is this really the future of social interaction? Short, sweet, no need for get-to-know-you small talk or conversation filler niceties. It's easy to just make a funny comment about someone's "status" and leave the communication at that. And I feel happy and connected. (Am I shallow?!) For someone who lost touch with a lot of people because I had such a hard time initiating contact with friends when I was depressed, this is a wonderful way to reach out.

But what happens when this is a primary form of communication for kids who then don't have as much of a chance to develop face-to-face social skills with their peers? Texting, email, myspace, etc. does not communicate tone - no matter how many emoticons you squeeze in. (:-P) To say nothing of facial expression, body language, energy, the vulnerable experience of saying how you feel with someone right in front of you - things that are so hard to read no matter how old you are and how much practice you have.

For me, Facebook recently took on a new dimension when an old high school friend announced the death of her brother. Things suddenly got serious. Facebook life and real life merged. But I quickly saw how it can be a forum to communicate and connect about hard things as well - like the CarePages/Caring Bridge web pages have been for several families in my community dealing with cancer. This person mentioned that it seemed like a really personal thing to put on Facebook, but said she didn't have the internal resources to answer individual calls and emails. Maybe this was a wonderful compromise in an impossible situation.

Who knows?! See ya on FB. But quit throwing snowballs at me.


UPDATE: I'm not the only one wondering about "unfriending"!

What Not to Blog

I keep catching myself in situations where I exclaim, "If only I could blog about this!" Crazy things keep happening to me (or I do crazy things), but for various reasons I'm reluctant to put them out into the great wide internet. Like the juicy details about the aforementioned inappropriate crushes & flirtations. Or making out with my cousin (distant cousin, I promise - but still, how does that happen?!).

It's good material. I'm tempted to share, but wondering where to draw the line. What is fun and/or helpful to write about? What privacy am I willing to sacrifice for the sake of therapeutic catharsis or just good comedy? What if someone I write about reads it? What if my parents are shocked and appalled by my antics? Who reads this anyway?! (Although, there is a link on my Facebook page, so I try to be careful.)

I've considered starting a top secret, invitation only, "High Security High Five". But it gets cumbersome to manage multiple blogs. And probably not necessary. So some tales will remain unblogged. Sorry, we must protect the innocent. Or at least half-heartedly try to preserve our own reputation.

So for now, just use your imagination.

Change

November 4, 2008. The whole day was electric with energy. People were a-buzz. Parties were brewing. I wasn't up to the big shindig downtown on a school night, so I took the invitation to watch election results at my friend the school librarian's house (and perhaps meet the young single nephew she's always talking about). I was optimistically buying champagne on the way, and the checkers said they were selling it like it was New Years. I think we could feel it happening.

When the official results came in, the choir director/composer in the group jumped on the piano and lead us in a rousing version of God Bless America and a few other patriotic standards. It was probably the first time I ever momentarily let go of the shame I usually feel about the awful things our nation has done and how we continue to treat the people around us.

As you may know, I had been leaning towards Hilary when this all started and thought Obama could use a few more years of experience at the national level. But my heart sang as if I'd known he was the one all along. Especially since the stock market crashed and everything seems grim... we need hope. We need a leader we can look to for wisdom, with natural charisma and magnetism - like what we saw during first speech at the DNC four years ago.

I though his acceptance speech was beautiful and perfect. Greatness happening in front of us. I drank in every word. And the feeling of victory was thick in the air, like we all just won the world series. I heard stories of people flooding the streets downtown so cars couldn't move, but drivers just got out and started hugging people. Amazing.

Justice. Finally someone other than a rich gray-haired white guy prevailed. And though I would never want to undervalue the great struggle that lead to this historic victory, what I love about the election of the first black man to this office is that often I don't even remember that he is black. Maybe that is another luxury of being a member of the dominant culture, but I feel like one of the victories here is that everyone is talking excitedly about Him, his words, his actions, his ideas... our admiration of him is transcending race and identity. It makes me hopeful that there really is a shift happening - towards our differences not being bigger than what we have in common and what we can do for one another.

(Then, of course, my buzz was completely killed the next morning by the news that things like Prop 8 passed... and I was ready to hurl judgment and hatred at people I don't understand all over again.)

What will happen? What can be done, really? Even by this amazing person, in this historic context. Our country is polarized and completely overextended. We need to reel our over-consuming selves way back in. Think small again. Focus on what is tangible. Create and exchange products and services on a local level. Focus on the people right in front of us; notice what they need. Share the burden, while being responsible for our own actions. Agree to disagree on a few things. Decide that getting our way is less important than getting things done. The only hope is if we can all be bigger, more emotionally generous people, right when we are feeling nothing but scarcity around us.

Change has come. It's exciting. But we forget that change is also really hard. Even good change comes with confusion and loss that are really easy to get lost in. Even I let my anger re-cloud my vision the very next morning.

I'm bracing myself.

I'm just glad that I'm moving someplace with a paid-off mortgage and space to grow some of my own food in the backyard. Just in case.

To Tattoo or Not To Tattoo

I always assumed that a tattoo was a youthful whim that you usually regretted later. And I never thought there was an object or symbol which I identified with enough to live for the rest of my life. Then a few years ago, the art teacher at my school got a tattoo for her 50th birthday. She had survived cancer, diabetes, divorce... and designed a branch with turning leaves symbolizing this new phase of her life. And the wheels started turning.

I started thinking about my own bumpy life experience. Thinking that perhaps tattoo could be a creative expression of self knowledge and self trust. I began to get excited about the idea of decorating/adorning the body which has carried so much pain. Reclaiming. Declaring its beauty. And a way to stay rooted in not allowing myself to be limited by conventional society.

As this idea began to brew, it hit me that my attraction to spiral designs and their symbolism of growth and contemplation - something between old Celtic designs and the wrought iron things I'd been collecting - might be perfect for tattooing. So I started doodling on myself...


Once my tattoo radar went up, I happened to see a TV character (Carmen on the L Word, yum) who had a tattoo curving along each hip, and I started thinking about designs fitting in with the curvature and lines of the body rather than a graphic just being stamp on somewhere. But where? I decided it would need to be somewhere on my body that could be hidden when I wanted but visible when I wanted to out. I got excited about the idea of the inside arch of my foot or on the inside heal...


Then I learned that most places wouldn't do those parts of the foot because the ink fades unevenly. I was really attached to that idea, so the excitement faded for a while. But it has slowly built up again and a new idea has emerged. I'm thinking a slightly larger scale (if you're gonna do it, do it!) design riding the womanly curve on the side of my right back/hip, with at least an an end that peaks up on my belt line (I love it when you are surprised by a glimpse of someone's tattoo on their back when their shirt lifts up a little). And a friend recommended an amazing artist whose style might be perfect to make it happen.


But still, fear of making a decision I might regret is holding me back. Once when I asked someone if they ever thought they might regret their tattoos when they are old and saggy, they told me they far more expected that they would regret not having done it. I think I agree. There are too many ways I have held myself back out of fear. But I'm giving myself time. Thinking maybe it could be a reward when I get out of debt.

Or it might never happen - it might just be just something fun to dream about. And look for meaning through. I draw on myself with sharpie and then test every situation I'm in as I go through the day, asking would I be glad I had it right now? Right now, YES!