January 2010 Archives

I've been experimenting lately with letting myself do just what I want in a given moment. That will probably sound elementary to some of you, so much a given as to be not worth mentioning. But I have to tell you, it is quite difficult for me.

Not only am I not used to doing what I want, I'm so unused to it that I have trouble even hearing what I want.

I use that verb intentionally because finding out what I want is an act of listening. I hover there, listening for it like the sound of waves. Sometimes I can't tell. Sometimes I have a small sensation of it, a little nudge of energy in one direction over another.

It's like learning a new language.

I wonder if most people learn it in their teens. That seems to be the time of willfulness and experimentation and striking out as an individual force in the human landscape. That I am sitting here in my 40s experimenting and looking for clues like this is sad.
I don't mean pathetic. I mean quite literally that it makes me sad.

I should have done this a long, long time ago. I should have been living according to my own desires for decades, and I am sad for myself that I didn't have the chance to do so. And I'm sad that it's so difficult now, that I essentially have to wrest my life into my own hands by brute force and determination and ferocity.

On the other hand, it's nice to know one has brute force and determination and ferocity at one's disposal. I've used those qualities before, but mostly to protect or help others.

Now they're for me, and that is so unfamiliar it makes me squirm. I was sitting there in front of my oatmeal and my body was jumping around in the chair. Yeah, I'm not that wild about oatmeal; I forget about it on the stove, and I lose interest in it about halfway through the bowl. But it's also that I don't like to sit still. It makes me queasy.

I remember sitting next to summerboy in a restaurant once and him reaching out and clamping my leg down to keep it still. I hadn't even realized I was constantly moving it.

Sitting still feels like death to me, and repression, and lack of freedom. No wonder I love cycling; it's the opposite of all those things. And yes, I am now going to escape from this chair and pump tires and find the right layers for this frigid (high of 22F/-6C) weather and run away away away.

They say in order to love the city you have to leave it, that returning makes you appreciate it all over again.

Bullshit.

All going away did was make me realize how difficult and annoying and stressful (ad infinitum) life here is.

I went to visit a friend, and now I feel how very much I miss him. I went to a place where things are prettier and air is fresher and there are green things and an ocean, and now I feel how little of any of that there is here.

And what there is here instead is: Noise. Lots and lots of noise.

I hadn't realized how much static-level stress all that noise produces in me on a daily basis. That and the overall nastiness of people. I don't know, I really don't, whether people are bastards here on a larger scale or whether that is the true nature of man, and people elsewhere bother to cover it up more often.

But I tell you, I do not like these people. I do not like them in a crowd, I do not like them being loud. I do not like them in cars, I do not like them in bars.

I lost my sunglasses. I played in the cold foam at the water's edge. I rode in rain and then in sun. I hung out and cooked and watched movies and laughed and got sad. I did not knit, or read, or eat too much of anything when I wasn't truly hungry.

I watched some sunsets. I played with birds. Big birds and little ones. I visited a cat and two more cats and worried some about my own cat, who was being watched by a friend but who I knew would be sad and scared and confused.

I had two bad airplane flights. I wanted to take a long bike tour. I thought about how people get into our spheres and make little houses for themselves there. All I can think about now is how come I don't sleep so well or ever feel that relaxed here?

When I got home I overtightened a bolt on my bike and broke it. I fixed it. I spiffed up the bike with new grips and a bell. I don't think very much will change, though.

I went shopping. Yes, it's pouring cold rain out. Yes, the bridge was full of broken beer bottles (I have some choice words for whoever put them there). Yes, it's Sunday and I was up late last night.

But I had a quest.

And the weird thing was, the shopping kinda cheered me up. Which wouldn't be weird to someone else, but given my general hatred of all things shopping-related and my lack of patriotic consumerist joy in overspending, it was a bit surprising.

Maybe it was the colors of what I bought. There comes a point in winter when I long to be bathed in a molten pool of Crayola. Well, minus the burns from all that hot wax, but you know what I mean.

The city has its charms - checking out what color they've lit the Empire State as you go over the bridge (it's currently green-and-white). The mind-blowing profusion of fresh flowers lined up outside practically any deli in Manhattan. The charm of sitting down at your favorite haunts, where they automatically bring your ice cream in the long dish because they know you don't like the scoops melting into each other.

The particular delight of rolling up to a bar with a bicycle posse, and seeing other friends roll up, and ye shall know them by their bicycles and the particular brands of helmets they wear and how they look in winter gear or summer gear. "Oh, you haven't met him before? Well, let me introduce you." (then a few minutes later...) "Yes, he does look like George Clooney. He likes younger women; I'm too old for him. You should totally go for it!"

Where was I? Oh yes, the need for color in midwinter. Well, I guess there are various forms of color - literal and metaphorical, maybe even metaphysical.

I needed all of those, and I think I got some. Along with a pretty good dose of silliness. ("Oh crap, there is that guy who always hits on me. I will hang out with my ex-lover who will run interference. Shit, this guy just will not take a hint. Maybe he will think I'm going home with my ex-lover if we walk out together. Oh but wait, then the guy I have a crush on will think that, too. Damn.")

Oh well, it's all good.

Some days the contents of my head are extra-jumbled, and this has been a week of those sorts of days. I've tried to blog a few times and end up realizing that I am Just So Not in the Mood that the results languish in the ever-growing drafts pile. Good thing it's an electronic pile, because I'm not sure my apt has room for any more piles.

I took out my toaster to be recycled on the curb. Either the trash collectors will pick it up (it's mostly metal) or some random person will walk by, like the look of it, and take it, a phenomenon we call urban recycling. Sadly, if it's the latter, when they get it home and plug it in and try to make toast with it, they will find out it gives off a disturbing burnt-wire smell, which is why I suddenly had the urge to reclaim the counter space it was taking up.

Anyway. One less Thing I don't need. If I really, really, really want toast, there is always the oven.

I haven't had a microwave in years, and darlings, I don't want one.

What I do want is a more structurally sound bedframe. If a bed makes horrible rickety noises every time the 11-pound cat jumps onto it, it's time to start thinking about a visit to IKEA. I just would like to earn some money first.

What else don't I want? Let's see. I don't want a fancy coffeemaker. I am happy - make that very happy - with my little silver espresso pot. It sits on the stove, it makes an appealing noise when it's finished. I get to screw parts together (which is vaguely satisfying). I wash it and put it away for next time. Perfect little ritual.

What else do I want? A really pretty handpainted vegan yarn that has some wool-like memory and warmth, but is not produced from animal products. I am not sure it exists, but I have several non-animal-fiber-wearing friends for whom I need to or would like to knit. One of whom is allergic to acrylic. Any suggestions? Also, it would be great if it wasn't too costly.

What else don't I want? flat tires, insomnia, pain, road dangers, financial stress, any other kind of stress, fungi, tummy aches, influenzas or other illnesses, kittens to get left in plastic bags on the street, anything bad to happen to me or anyone I love.

What else do I want? Daily chocolate, love from friends and family and beautiful boys who are nice and funny, bicycles that are in good shape and fit me well, income from an enjoyable source, to get into school, to make art, to open a restaurant that just sells homemade soup and bread (need to talk to that friend of mine who has similar ambitions), for my darling little cat to live very healthily to a very ripe old age with me, my mommy.

Happy 2010, gang. Let's see what we can put together for ourselves, eh?

I have a habit of looking at pretty things when I am having a hard time, and I've been thinking that I'm not the only one for whom beauty is nutritious.

I wrote here a while back about making something beautiful for someone who's dealing with illness, and recently another friend whose family is going through a difficult time asked me to knit something for her.

It's a practical object that fills a specific need, but I think there's more to it than that. I think she wants me to make her something pretty and soft. I think she knows that I will knit it with a lot of love, and I hope she knows how happy I am that she asked, that I'm glad there's something I can do for her - even if it's just a seemingly small thing.

I will have to remember to tell her that, when I give it to her.

I swear that these little things are what keeps our heads above the dark water when it starts to close in around us. That, and soup.

Have you ever noticed that putting vanilla in hot chocolate makes it less chocolatey? It's like antimatter for chocolate.

Some days you can just feel that things are going to be bad. I was in a fine mood before I left the house, but as soon as I stepped outside I thought, Uh Oh. There was a palpable sense of danger and madness in the air. I wouldn't even have gone out had I not had dinner plans with two friends I hadn't seen in ages.

Sure enough, all the humans were being nasty and belligerent and stupid (except for our waitress, who was pretty awesome). And on the way home one of them nearly ran me over, and then tried to tell me that since there was no bike lane on that street I was not supposed to be riding on it. And that it was somehow my fault for him backing into me. And that it was downright terrible that his window might be in danger of being broken (by my gloved hand smacking it to alert him that he was about to run me down with his giant car).

I was so angry and so flabbergasted and so steeped in adrenaline that I couldn't breathe well enough to get any sensible words out. I ended up trying to yell through sobs and then cried the whole rest of the way home. I don't think I was so much scared as impotently furious.

And I devoutly wished for summerboy, primarily because he would've been able to articulate to the guy just how wrong he was, and why, and then I could've had someone to cry on.

I ran into him unexpectedly at a party a few days ago, and it was a little emotionally charged to see him, but it also made me miss him. We were friends, and now we're not, and somehow I just feel the loss of someone I Iiked having in my life, rather than anything more defined by relationship boundaries.

I am kind of hoping we will become friends again.

One of the friends I was having dinner with confided, when our third member went to the bathroom, that she, too, had detested 2009. I've always assumed that the absurdly resilient hopefulness I seem to carry around in my chest was a permanent characteristic, but lately I am getting skeptical. I am wondering why I bother to make excuses for the horribleness of human beings. It may be, simply, that I wish they weren't so horrible, and so I tell myself that these are simply clouds obscuring the sun.

That might be a lie. Whether or not it's a necessary lie I don't know, but I am getting awfully angry, and I think maybe I am done making excuses for other people.