Saturday, December 31, 2005

I take all the wrong things way too seriously

I lay in bed searching the bare winter branches outside my window for faces. And in the cracks on the ceiling I see them. Contemplative, and without resolution I lay there, sweat beading tiny on my chest.

It must be vacation has gone on too long. That always was my problem. And I do the things that make me feel sick, little betrayals like how I spend money, or don't return phone calls, or start solving puzzles when something is pressing and big and meanly important. Sometimes the piling up of tiny sins crushes me. I want to confess them, and think maybe I should convert to Catholicism because they have nice little booths just for that, and I can say Hail Mary and walk light and springy... not lay here searching in dead branches for an expression of judgment, or kindness.

So here we are on the brink of a whole new year. Easy to dismiss as just another day, just as easy to feel short of breath and vertiginous. Sometimes I can actually feel the centrifugal force of the earth hurling me forth, the blood rushing to my head.

This year I:

-kissed only one boy, blissfully
-moved in, and liked it
-was killed by a bear (just a little black bear)
-cried at one wedding
-got zero speeding tickets and missed zero speeding ticket court dates
-flew off the handle at least three times
-was a jerk twice
-was nominated for and won HOTTEST BLOGGER and had creepy Sci-Fi erotica written about me
-was nominated for and lost Foot Model Contest
-ran 833.57 miles in three pairs of running shoes(more then three hundred miles short of my goal which I set without accounting for 18 credit terms, vacation, family or holidays)
-ran one marathon, two half-marathons and one ten mile race, setting PRs in each
-ran a 10k with my baby in hotheat, finishing side by side
-killed two fish and one frog
-attended one writers conference, was not discovered
-drove 1350 miles for the holidays
-nearly died from heat exhaustion in Eastern Oregon
-rode a scant three century rides (sorry dad)
-bit off and chewed 48 school credits
-boarded two planes, two boats, touched six states, camped, hoteled and couched.
-met one real life blogger

(does that cover it?? Hardly, but friends are arriving...)

But tonight!! I shall redeem myself of all small evils. Tonight the fruition of my goodness... have plotted a love affair between two wonderful people who have never met each other till tonight. They will come here, eat my bruschetta, drink my champagne and fall wonderfully in love for the rest of their lives. Shhh...

(am light and springy!)

Thursday, December 29, 2005

Fickle

Today a stubborn streak of ill-will, kicking shins and pinching babies. Running was barely enough to settle me into a book. I read for five hours. Reading has been my escape since I could. I never read anymore, I skim. I cant remeber having time for fiction at least. Just how-to and what-is books.

I went out with a friend for sushi in the evening, ate stale a cream puff for desert and came back to reading more. GOOD GRAVY I say, GIVE ME GRACE!

Tuesday, December 27, 2005

Free and Clear Please

Six hundred miles of holiday traffic, crappy coffee, sudoku puzzles, fog and turn signals, sleeping reclined, cramped neck. This morning three hundred miles away I woke up to the sound of heavy rain again and again and again. And shushed sounds of my Dad getting up for work, woke enough for shuffling under the tangled sheets for the warmth of my BF sleeping. He rarely snores. I couldn't ask for more.

ACTUALLY I COULD ASK FOR A LOT MORE. I want people who are easy to love, who make the right choices that lead them to happiness and dying in the company of loved ones or not in great lonliness and sorrow. At the very least.

Everyone thinks they know what is best for them, ask for my advice then look at me patronizing... drink more, smoke more, fuck the wrong person more... head inevitably to-ward a cliff, dangle precipitously, scorn me .. and if feels like a wound.

I am arrogant to think I know what is best for you. Yes. I said it.

Like my friend Kate, she calls me heartsick all the time, always late at night, always. It will always be the same. I don't know how to care for you, am so useless.

Under those tangled sheets, halfway here we talked in the dark about who will come to a bad end, how we know, and love them still. Sometimes you let people go, mostly because you don't know how not to, or simply have no choice.

Twice in my life I went to other towns with a picture and a rumor, searching for people who had lost themselves. HAVE YOU SEEN THIS PERSON? HAVE THEY BEEN IN HERE RECENTLY??

Once was with a friend, searching for her father who carried a bowsaw forwith to kill your enemies for he knew they were many and he had none himself...

Another time with my friend Amy we found someone maybe we should not have. Brought him home. Brushed him off. Put him to bed. Two days later I woke up to go to work, found the steering column in my car in sharp plastic pieces torn, found things broken into smaller and smaller pieces, wires exposed, metal bent. In the back seat my friend, curled small. I WAS GOING TO HOTWIRE YOUR CAR AND DRIVE IT OFF A CLIFF INTO THE OCEAN.

Enraged I almost spun into oncoming traffic, left him curled there sick and sad for my whole shift. Tried never to care again, but it was a slow climb down.

We shared the same birthday, though I am four years younger, and are both uselessly left-handed. We were never lovers, though we kissed once on an ill-advised impulse resulting in my roommate trying to run me over with a late 70's model two-door car and chucking a beer bottle at me, not accounting for the physics of a fast moving car.

Years earlier he had taped, one page per word The Days Run Away Like Wild Horses over the Hills onto his walls, savored the sorrow of empty bottles and closed curtains. I should have known better a long time ago.

Years later his two front teeth were punched out of his face when he knocked on the wrong window of the wrong house in a blackout, father of a daughter in late night hours. Sam and I, we wrote a fan-zine for him but had to keep undoing love for him more and more.

He was brilliant, he was writerly, and coming to a bad end. Last time, patience wore thin, I had just moved to Portland, myself treading thin my friendship with Sam... we took him out to the bar and he tried kiss us each, offered to fist fight and steal our things. Maybe he pissed in the corner and probably punched the wall.

It was the end of many things then, that time. A six month funeral for friendships and naivety, and a really painful realization of burden, credulity exhausted.

Even my mother had prophetic dreams, three hundred miles away but I never revealed how. I cant imagine I was easy to love.

where did all that come from?

-------------

Six hundred miles, and Christmas many times over. First here, his parents, his brothers, my fathers, a nights rest, my mothers, more... all in a short 36 hours.

The caring and interwoven complicatedness in heavy rain and mountain passes, holiday traffic for three hundred miles, my anxiety growing heavier and heavier.

In the new year I want no-one to worry me.

Friday, December 23, 2005

Thin Skinned




There are still pink spots on my collarbones where they wore to bleeding during a half-marathon in October. Today I ran in a v-neck... am smiling! It is apparent to me that my skin is in dire need of a coat of varnish, some industrial grade lacquer maybe, something to protect me from chaffing and insults.




Katrina gave me frogs for Christmas. During Thanksgiving Bob froze to death during a cold snap in which the dogs water bowl did not melt for almost two weeks. Full of feeling for me, she brought me the frogs to fill the tiny fish-shaped hole in my heart.

The frogs are totally awesome.

BABY LOOKIT MY FROGS, KATE GAVE EM TO ME. I NAMED THEM MR.CATE, MR.TREDWAY AND MS.LAMB*

OH, NICE... BUT I ONLY SEE TWO FROGS, WHERE'S THE THIRD?

THERE ARE ONLY TWO

BUT YOU SAID THERE WERE THREE...

NO, I JUST SAID THOSE WERE THEIR NAMES. I COULDN'T DECIDE BETWEEN THREE PEOPLE I WANTED TO NAME THEM AFTER SO I JUST GAVE THEM ALL THREE NAMES.

*Those are not the real names I gave the frogs. The fake names used here are the real names of two teachers and the attendance lady at my high school. The first was hugely impressed with me and I totally failed him, the second was pointedly unimpressed with me and I stunned him, the third was totally unimpressed with me and stayed unimpressed with me for the duration of my HS career, chasing me through the halls with pink slips.

-------------------------

UPDATE*UPDATE*UPDATE*UPDATE


in repose

He swims spastically then retires on his back on the surface which freaks me out to no end. Poke, *bob* Poke, shed a tear *float to the bottom* I lift the lid of the toilet seat *sniffle* he swims spastically again.

Later, he died.

The other just swims spastically. I guess it is good I never revealed the names I chose cause I wouldn't want to jinx anything good.

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Solstice

Seven miles have run and one mile from home, waiting to cross six lanes of traffic in the pouring rain an old man says to me YOU LOOK LIKE A HEALTHY KID, ARE YOU TRAINING FOR SOMETHING?

One hour and fifteen minutes earlier, after throwing my jacket in a lightweight tantrum my boyfriend says YOU HAVE AN ANGER PROBLEM

... AH. DO. NOT...

Three days ago I found an empty chapstick tube in the drier, hurled it dramatically across the room cursing. I have an addiction to chapstick, have like, 10 tubes in various pockets that occasionally make it into the drier where they melt and ruin three expensive running shirts, my favorite *irreplaceable* band touring shirt and a sexy tank top with greasy wax stains.

I get the finger too often when I drive. It gives me a thrill.

Sad songs ruin my day.



Yeah, I guess I am training for something. I need this rain, this lowflyingbirds... same I need this running to keep my sizzle from flaring up. I am constantly training for a better day. I wish I could step outside my body, walk along side myself, hold my hand. I will put my finger between my shoulder blades to straighten my posture, whisper in my ear how things are, and are not. Will see love and notlove, will see how perfect is frailty.


Love and Luck

Tuesday, December 20, 2005

One last double check before we left the house BABY CAN YOU SEE THE DORK IN ME? ITS NOT OBVIOUS IS IT? Just to be nice back I assured him we wouldn't talk about writing or blogging, but I totally lied.

It was all posted here first, most of it is true...

But Brandon is way prettier then I am. He was hiding behind a pole in the Triple Nickel so he saw me first, starting off the evening Advantage: One Child. He approached not bearing scissors but hands stuffed in his back pockets, earnest and disarming.

Too bad I am totally suspicious of people that nice. I watched too many teen romance movies about the popular kid dating the weirdo on a dare, falling in love pretend, widely exposed for sham, maybe later falling in love for real, love somehow reinforced by humiliation... that never really happened to me but my friends ganged up on me in 6th grade. I never got over it (am keeping a list ladies).

We left the Triple Nickel for the Sapphire. Got down to blogging business, drank Spanish coffee, ignored everyone. It is true, we missed StoryCorp, and what we would have talked, we talked.

StoryCorp, we could have save it all for posterity, Bacardi 151 it will be new all over again.

It is true also, the Sapphire waitress ran out after us on the street, undertipped and not havin' it. She was sassysad about it which chapped me cause it was an honest mistake, honestly.

(We came less than a dollar short of 15% on the bill, big tragedy in the tangle of figuring that we did by candlelight
(I did the math later and while I never leave less then 20% (cause what the 'ell do you think I do for a living) my sorrow is not great)).

Brandon ran off.

We met them at The Pub at the End of the Universe, talked still more. Still? At the end of the night I am deeply fond of Brandon and Kevin both. Kevin has a great poker face and I only caught him in a semi-eyeroll once. But it could have been the smoke.

Neurosis, that word, though out of favor with the medical community is keenly succinct to the self-conscious writer. I can neither accept or express admiration with ease. Thank god we meet up face to face sometimes, leave feeling fairly well adjusted in concert or in contrast.

AGAIN?

AGAIN. AS SOON AS IT SEEMS APPROPRIATE

DEAL.

Monday, December 19, 2005

You're waiting for me to go first, right?

I am a hurricane of busy. My socks are all over the floor. There are people waiting for me across town. I only blog late at night anyway.

Yesterday was a birthday party and a going away party but I didnt go to the going away party because the blizzard, and the need for calm in my head. I will blog late tonight.

Saturday, December 17, 2005

Ruffled

Wednesday was party no.four, but what a day! I met Sam for lunch, later on, Kate for dinner. I took her to a two-part party, in the appetizer apartment and the entree apartment. I like pretty people, I like laughing pretty people, abundance of food and generosity and dim lighting. These are my friends I love for the sake of me... not getting-togetherness for school or work or etiquette. So this was the best party yet, brief as it was I stayed.

But even still, holiday parties have me feeling over stimulated and over exposed. The next two nights I spent in, bustling around the dirty corners of my house with the heat cranked and a cup of scalding tea, sleeping long and deep, late into the morning.

Friday was frozen. The perfect day for a 10 mile run; dry, cold, brilliant and sunny. After three miles I found my stride, and lost myself finely, running. Finally. I haven't been on a run longer then six miles since the Seattle Half-Marathon, and before that, the Halloween Run-Like-Hell Half-Marathon. Now on vacation, the only thing I have been dreaming of is long hours running and writing.

Today, again perfectly tart, froze and bright for a long run. I ran 10 miles to brush down my feathers, for meeting perfect strangers you hold in blatant admiration is graceless and I would probably bonk heads or spill a drink in his lap if I didn't run it out of me. I probably will anyway.

Wednesday, December 14, 2005

What Did You Want to Say?

Tonight was Christmas party No.3, a low cut shirt and highboots (deliver me on your doorstep six foot three). When I arrived I was ushered to food, crafts and body glitter. LET ME GET THE BACK OF YOUR NECK, YOU SIMPLY NEED ORANGE GLITTER. I made three snowflakes, sculpted a Fimo pebble, and let the dog drink out of my spiked punch.

It was mixed bilingual; English and ASL, adults and teenagers, hearing and Deaf. One thing I love about the company of interpreters is the full access to the best of both languages, expression through language intrusion.

YOU KNOW, I WAS *sign*, AND AT THAT TIME I REALLY *sign* *sign*, AND WE FELT *sign* SO WHEN WE FINALLY *sign* IT WAS *sign*. REALLY.

There is no comfort like ease in communication. At least for me, who often hunts precision by circumlocutorily stalking meaning, tending to start with, for example, WHY THIS UPSET HAS SIGNIFICANT HISTORICAL PRECEDENT... because one can never be UNDERSTOOD enough.

It is true though, there gets to be a point where that need becomes so disruptive one is simply better off picking daisies and humming off key, investment/return wise. I mean, I have never been important enough to hedge bets, or push the envelope... its not like failed communication with me will result in someone pushing the red button and blowing Earth to bits. Ya know? Better, usually, to walk away, make daisy-chains.

And another thing, I like getting older because I improve simply by lacking the stamina to ruin.

For what I bring (little) and under what constraint (free of), tonight was simple and unfettered. Damn Good.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

Watch Over Me


watch over me

Tonight was Christmas party #two, on the heels of #one at which I wore a fancy dress and did not win the center piece.

Part one, the wind blew fierce. Blustered me from the classroom where I held my breath till my lungs burned with the anxiety of final exams, exhaled panting and flushed. I was never flappable till now, damn this fierce wind.

From school into traffic, into the nick of my time into my dress, drippingwet hair, make up in the dome light, heater blasting till my curls are springy and dry. The only shoes I have to match my dress are summer shoes, open toe platform sandals that I hiked down dusty river banks in. I am an indelible yet faint aroma of blackberries and warm lazy currents and campfire. I am haunted by my shoes.

The party has no impact on me. I am vague yet polite. Eventually everyone has circulated past the host bar enough that fancy no longer matters. I sneak out to the car and change my clothes. I never go anywhere in a fancy dress without a secret stash of pants. The party is on a sprawling estate and in some cluster of buildings I find a restaurant where a dear friend of mine works. I have not seen her for more then six months. We hug and hold hands and promise to call and then the wind blows me back to the banquet hall where no one is the wiser. Me, and my inpants confidence. I drink more wine and have a headache in the morning.


watch over me.

Though I have little to do with the religious traditions that have brought her through the millennia, I have always had a thing for Mary. I think she would have liked me, and been nice to me, fed me soup and told me everything will be alright. This term has carved a yawning chasm in my chest cavity. I could really use some of that kindness.

Christmas Party #two I cannot convince you it is what it is. An enormous mansion, a full size sleigh on the porch, two tiers of balcony, solid hardwood beams with servants quarters and secret servant stairwells and simply sagging under the weight of Christmas decorations. A minimum of two full size Christmas trees per room, every nook and cranny and flat space filled with Christmas antiques and creepy Christmas dolls, movie set decorations, Christmas records, statues, dishes, games, knick-knacks, books... year-round even. The collection is easily worth a million dollars. I didn't take pictures, I didn't take pictures last year. Now the house is sold, the new owners mingling with the guests and the collection will be sold bit by bit.

The snack table was vigorous and the bar was open. I sat under the upside-down Christmas tree, baleful in the glow, shouldered through the crowd, till I finally settled in to watch The Nightmare Before Christmas in the maids quarters. There is a certain point where opulence becomes prohibitive... awesome, but ultimately useless.

Welcome, the frenzy! Happy Holidays!

Wednesday, December 07, 2005

Oh schadenfreude, come read my blog

I was in the store today buying thank-you (forputtingupwithme) cards when I realized I was hearing three Christmas songs playing at the same time. Do they thing they will get me to buy three times the crap with three times the guilt at three times the interest rate?? When will we figure out Christmas, like old growth forests and native speciation, has fell victim to the tragedy of the commons, along with our dignity and inherent value. Uuh.

As you know, as I have told you I interpret for a s*ciol*gy class in a mock placement, fake internship, practicum... whatever you call it. And you should know this is very hushhush as we in this field take our confidentiality very seriously, as we should, as I do. But I find this class very hurting.

As it happens this same class was the first ever class I took after a series of dropouts, move-ons and whatevers, long suffering the pedestrian ennui and reticence inherent to my expansive personality. I finished my last HS class with a .08 and had since failed to impress anyone. After a particularly egregious transgression for which I felt I owed focus and discipline as a form of atonement, I registered for classes at the local community college.

Learning one of the classes I was trying to get into was full, and looking behind me at the 10 million people in the registration line I stuck my finger into the catalogue and registered for a s*ciol*gy (whatthe??) class on an entirely different campus. At the end of the story I finished with a final grade of 102% after correcting the teacher on a deducted point during final exam , and causing a near-riot during small group discussion earlier in the term. Still, being much younger the class never impacted me as much as it seems to now.

Now, are things new and painful. We watched this video I thought I will put my hands in my face THIS IS SO INTENSE and I felt so sad I stayed hands in my face. Interpreting this causes little earthquakes where spurs grow on my spine and plates in my skull shift and I think I AM KIND AND WELL INTENTIONED BUT IT MATTERS NOT BECAUSE I AM OF AN EVIL GREATER THEN MYSELF… and I have always felt I am the sort to survive a nuclear holocaust but am dismayed to learn really I am like tissue held together by evil and vapor.

You too should watch this video and maybe also should make an ass of yourself in a large class of people.

And other renewals I learned.

Like the federal government collects data on hate crimes but does not include crimes against women because so overwhelmed they would be. And in NY they studied aspects of committed murders and found that more then any other group women were "“multiply killed"” meaning they were abused in so many ways in was impossible to determine the cause of death. Beat, stabbed, shot, bludgeoned, kicked, shoved off a building, drowned, and then run over with the car after being poisoned. And more often these were witnessed by children (compared to other murders). Really, this doesnt even scratch the surface.

I don't, but if you demand it of me I will try to hunt down citation. But enough about sorrow. After all the end of the term is so near I can taste snow. At this point I have finished with two classes completely and have little of the remaining three left.

I passed half the QE much to my amazement considering I went into the test set in my failing ways, convinced certain death wasn'’t something to get too worked up over. Now I see how dangerous my speedball, expect failure but accept no infraction or weakness along the way. Perfection in the pursuit of failure. What the f*** is wrong with me.

That said I have to humbly accept that what feels like reasons to me are actually excuses. I am lazy. I am responsible. No matter how many protestations and resentments I have developed, categorized, and railed against.

Fact.

But now I will have the time to look inward, at the ugly wrinkles in my neglected life, my atrabilious family, unwatered house plants and ill fitting wardrobe. I cant think about the details. I make lists, and lists, and lists and chip away at them never lingering long looking at the suffering details. In all regards am cantankerous, yet surprisingly bouncy and optimistic.

Last week I showed one of my favorite bloggers judybluesky how to post pictures and am waiting patently. I'’ve yet to see a single one. Go bug her.

I am gonna go bake zucchini bread and practice my witticism for Brandon when he comes to visit.

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Oh Dear

I just lost a post I have been writing for two hours. It was the longest post I have written in a year. I am sobbing, my dog is whining. We are in great sadness. Life will never be the same. I guess things get more important as you get older.

*welllll, sniffling actually*

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