feminist blogs

Last night before I went to bed, I typed up this note and magnified the font and left it on my computer, which was on all night with the monitor off:

Dear me:

Do not sit around pining away for impossible boys on the computer all day and waiting for the AC repairman. GO SWIMMING! TREAT YOURSELF! HAVE FUN! ENJOY LIFE!

Love,

Me.

Ha! I crack me up sometimes.

Of course, this morning it is raining and not really good swimming weather, so go figure. However, I am not pining in the least, nor do I care if the AC repair guy EVER shows up. At this point, I am starting to calculate the cost savings of not even having AC at all and maybe just investing in one good window unit to keep us cool this summer...or until I can save up to get a whole new HVAC system that is energy/cost efficient. Fuck central air! Fuck luxury!

I am slowly crawling out of my self-induced hell of no children. It feels shockingly empty in this house. And tidy. And I have nothing to distract me except for impossible boys on the internet, and the news - all of which seems bad, and my books and journals. I wake up, having slept with my journal, and I write for 30 minutes. And before I go to bed I tap madly at the keyboard. Pecking out words.

Oh, it's not so bad as all of that. I am not completely insane and isolated. I played card last night with A. He taught me how to play Fluxx and it was enjoyable. A is a nice person to spend time with. He is not an impossible boy, but a Truly Nice Guy. So if any of you ladies out there are looking for a nice guy - I can introduce you. Come play cards with us!

My housemate keeps to herself mostly. And I have been working. Free from the logistical nightmare of childcare, work is so easy to accomplish. I go into the office early, and I feel compelled to stay late. I have been forgetting to scan the Chronicle for shows and movies that I want to see. I feel kind of broke what with the ac repairs forthcoming, but I might still find a way to afford to go see blackalicious tomorrow if it isn't totally sold out and if my tentative movie-watching, lasagna-eating plans with #1 impossible boy get canceled - which they likely may, because he is Impossible.

Other than that...nothing. I still wake up at Coley Time every morning. My goal was to swim in the late morning and walk late at night. I have been doing the walks, but the swims have not been happening.

I spend my days at home listening to old punk rock on cassette. I need to get a new turntable. It's in the works. Today it is the Discord State of the Union compilation. "I want this candle lighted for the dear departed." I remember my friend Gar had a big crush on this woman. Gar. Gah. I need to email Gar. He always can pull me out of semi-funks and leave me laughing and laughing and laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Time is too short to mope. Almost 1 week down, a little more than 2 to go.

Here's the summer mix - please let me know if you would like a copy:

1. Indian Thing (take one) - Black Wax Machine
2. Forces At Work - the Feelies
3. Mouth Wooed Her - Animal Collective
4. The Killing Moon - Echo and the Bunnymen
5. Run Run Run - Velvet Underground
6. Le Pain Perdu - Cibo Matto
7. No Love Lost - Joy Division
8. Rise - Public Image Limited
9. Give the Anarchist a Cigarette - Chumbawamba
10. Information - Numbers
11. Good Woman - Cat Power
12. Late May - Black Wax Machine
13. Anna - KUKL
14. The Chain - Fleetwood Mac
15. Germfree Adolescents - X-Ray Spex
16. Mean Machine - Chant - The Last Poets
17. We Tigers - Animal Collective
18. Gutless - Jawbreaker
19. Now We're Even - Smart Went Crazy
20. Spread Your Wings - Spirtualized Electric Mainline

all in all, a really good mix. I especially like the Black Wax Machine songs and the Animal Collective stuff that is new to my playlist and so, so, so good! I am not so sure the Echo and the Bunnymen and PiL stuff fits, but I have been in touch with old friends, and those songs are from that era...so I'm putting them on there anyway.

I have created a pretty good summer mix. I just need to get permission from someone before I include a couple of his songs on the mix. I am not sure if he would want me to share them, but they are so so so so good, I am hoping he says yes.

I am in the 4th day here without air conditioning, and I have to say I had been so spoiled by the A/C that I forgot how to do those basic thingys that we do to conserve energy. Like, for instance, well-placed fans. I think I am going to at least attempt to go A/C free while the kids are away. My housemate has a window unit, so I am not terribly worried about her up and leaving in a huff (plus she is also really a very nice person...which, YAY! for me for finding such a cool housemate).

I have also done a fair amount of housecleaning this weekend. My kitchen is quite tidy, and I am working on the living room bit by bit. going around the room in a methodical fashion. I am enjoying it immensely. It makes me, once again, want to have a companion here that will just quietly Be Here while I do silly stuff like cleaning and dancing around with the vacuum cleaner. I could save a ton of money if I could multitask my socializing with puttering around the house. I'm a huge fan of puttering, but after awhile by myself, I start to feel all crusty and in need of external stimulus. Some other voices to focus on, rather than just those in my own head.

And mowing my lawn. I actually started working on the front yard today and got almost all the way done before the lawn mower started to smell like it was on the verge of bursting into flames. I unplugged it and turned it over to look at it, and some lady drove up and was all freaked out saying "UNPLUG IT FIRST! UNPLUG IT!!!!" I held the UNPLUGGED end of the extension cord out for her to see and said, puzzled "Um, I'm not THAT stupid." meaning...yeah, I wait until my lawn is like 8 feet high before I mow it down, but nyeesh. Give me a freaking break, lady.

What is it about me that inspires people to think I need advice, anyway? Really, I do know I am kind of a freak and an arm-waving seemingly-on-the-verge-of-catastrophe freak at that...but seriously...if you are so interested in preventing me from doing dumb stuff, kindly donate some money to the paypal account and keep your stupid advice to your stupid self. I'm liable to wave the unplugged extension cord of my actually fairly joyous life in your face, otherwise. Yes, I do recognize a live wire when I see one. Don't worry, I do wear rubber gloves to avoid electrocution. Nyeesh. I am not lacking in wisdom...just time and money.

I had my first swim of the summer yesterday and it was fucking awesome. I got 30 laps in right off the bat and felt like that was a good enough number for now. I am still walking every night and my stamina is really improving. I will probably swim more and more over the summer, but I just don't want to overdo it at first and burn out. I want to swim until it's not fun to be swimming anymore. Today, I drove out to the pool and it looked way too crowded for a leisurely swim so, fuck it. I came home and watched a video and paid my bills. Or, at least I wrote the checks and put them into the envelopes. We have yet to see how they actually get paid. And when. A little at a time. Pressure valve bill paying. The good thing about a three day weekend is only 3 days until payday.

I have decided that I MUST find a way to get that big pomegranate tattoo on my back. Maybe it won't be a full back piece, I don't know. It depends. I need to write up the conceptualization I have and send it off to my friend so she can sketch it out for me. I might not be able to get it by August...I might even have to wait until next year. But, damnit, I need to have a pomegranate tattooed on my back, and that is FINAL. Three pomegranates, actually...well, no...two and a half.

I have thought about a million times this weekend about never ever blogging again. I am feeling very over-exposed lately. Also, it really seems like I am finally communicating with someone on a regular basis who sort of "gets" me without me having to go to great lengths to be "gotten." That is a nice feeling. But tonight I was chatting with my wacky-sidekick-in-training and I realized that blogging is about me and not about whoever is reading this. So I need to just sit down and let the words come. I am doing more private journaling about my more private thoughts, but I still have plenty of things to share, in case anyone is interested.

Speaking of wacky-sidekick-in-training, he had some wisdom tonight to share about love and practicality, and thinking about that conversation reminded me of the conversation I had with my friend S last night about my parenting angst. I was telling S that I have all of this weird angst about not being a "complete" family for the boys - not being good enough just on my own, but not feeling like I really even will ever want to have a partner. S sagely responded that, you know, almost all kids complain about SOMETHING from their childhood. In other words, if it wasn't my lack of a partner, it would be something else. It was so simple but so immensely calmly delivered and wise. I was grateful to him. I always forget that my friends without kids actually HAVE BEEN kids at some point in their lives, and are therefore very well qualified to give parenting advice when called upon to do so. Silly me. Always underestimating!

Germ Free Adolescents
by X-Ray Spex

I know you're antiseptic
Your deodorant smells nice
I'd like to get to know you
But you're deep frozen like the ice

He's a germ free adolescent
Cleanliness is her obsession
Cleans her teeth ten times a day
Scrub away scrub away scrub away
The S.R. way....

You may get to touch her
If your gloves are sterilised
Rinse your mouth with listerine
Blow disinfectant in her eyes

Her phobia is infection
She needs one to survive
It's her built-in protection
Without fear she'd give up and die

Good Woman
by Cat Power

I want to be a good woman
And I want for you to be a good man
And this is why I am leaving
And this is why I cant see you no more
cause I dont want to be a bad woman
I cant stand to see you to be a bad man

I will miss your heart so tender
I will love this love forever
This is why I am leavin
And this is why I cant see ya no more
And this is why I am lying
When I say I dont love ya no more

I want to be a good woman
And I want for you to be a good man
And this is why I am leavin
And this is why I cant see ya no more
And this is why I am lying
When I say that I dont love you no more

The Fate Of The Human Carbine
by Peter Jeffries (as interpreted by Cat Power/chan marshall)

Thinks of money all the time,
Doing it to annoy her,
She's on his conscience day and night,
So he acts like her employer.
They all come and peep through a hole in the wall,
Keep the bastards guessing.
He likes to take the long way home,
It's another fine decision,
From six to seven he'll be all alone,
So he turns on televison,
Doesn't even notices this is the hours roll by,
It's lost inside the screen,
Watches the film about the evening sky,
It was someone else's dream.
All come peep through the wall,
Keep the bastards guessing,
All come and peep through a hole in the wall,
Just to watch his heart undressing,
They all come and peep through a hole in the wall,
Because you look so impressive.

There is something satisfying about waking up feeling angsty and listening to punk rock...especially hyperbolically angry punk rock.

I can't find one of my private journals and it is pissing me off and freaking me out. I am sure it is around somewhere, but not absolutely sure. My private journals are, like, the place where I dump all of my thoughts in the moment and not look back. I don't even know what I wrote in this particular journal, but the idea of anyone reading it without context freaks me right out. They are not meant for public consumption. At all. So there's that, and there's teh fact that the journal contained, like, thoughts from the past 4-6 months or so of my life, and I really need to get it back.

I remember one time I left a private journal on a bench somewhere and when I realized I had left it, I went back in a panic and there were a bunch of people reading it. I was embarrassed enough to consider not even saying anything - I mean, how would they know it was me? But we are talking about my JOURNAL here...so I got it back. blah.

And then there was the time my ex read my journal and it sparked his final descent into depravity with regard to our relationship. I had written very frankly (in my PRIVATE journal) about some feelings I was having about our relationship, sex, being touched, etc. It was a very bad time in my life, and I had a lot of pain that I needed to let go of. My journal was always my escape. They were hurtful words, but they were words that were never meant to be read by anyone other than me. Really, it was just a lot of stuff I needed to work through and get over, and an exploration, using words, of all of my options. After he found it (and broke up with me as a result) I had a difficult time writing anything in my journals. I have only just now begun to recover the ability to not self-censor when I write.

I am hoping I find that fucking journal. Damnit.

In other news, I have spent the past day and a half in hiding from the world. I have an inkling that I am going to make a break for it today...and maybe go swimming or something. I'm still not really feeling like being around people. Maybe one or two people. Blah. I miss my boys. I am going to take a vacation upon their return and spent the whole time hugging them. The little twerps.

You know, it's actually not so bad in here without A/C. I have a fan by my bed and on the couch, and I just flop in one place or another and take a lot of showers. Cooking is gross, but it is perfect for enforcing laziness which, you know, every once in awhile needs to be enforced.

Have you ever had a time in your life when a bevy of seemingly ill-timed or ill-advised events come together to form some sort of gorgeous symphony? Like how sometimes trash can lids can sound like music, and the smell of your sweat can become a comforting sweetness, or how three weeks of freedom can become three weeks of...caged insanity?

This is the way it is for me lately. Or maybe it has been this way forever. I can't keep track. But right now, I have no a/c in my house, my kids left yesterday and tore my heart out along with them, I am hopelessly enamored of a boy who presents a significant set of challenges (but who is absolutely deliciously sexy and wonderful and mushy and sweet and sour and, oh, everything.) and I spent pretty much the entire night last night taking pictures of myself crying. hahaha.

I laugh, because in spite of or because of this, I feel like bursting open. It is all emergence in the end. It is so funny how beautiful life is, and how every little thing leads into something else which causes another thing which sparks a raging conflagration. I can't say that I am overjoyed today. I am tired from sleep interrupted with bouts of extreme wakefulness. I am crusty from tears. I am addled in the head with feelings of lust and love combined (oh, my!) and I am here sitting on the edge of my seat, wondering how this is all going to come together.

"Spread Your Wings"
by Spiritualized

Oh babe
You know I’ll take
Just a little bit more
Just a little bit more
And time
Time goes
Time goes slowly by
When I know that it can fly
C’mon spread your wings
Spread your wings

You can do anything, everything, anything

An old friend from high school sent me some photos from my misspent youth:

Also, a couple of tearful arty shots, which are part of a series that I'm too, um, impaired to decide if they are safe to share.

And some photos from last week's trip to the Nature Center:

Enjoy!

Maybe because I am wishing it was December - or any month, really, in which it wouldn't matter that my fucking A/C fan is broken. Fuck. I thought I was going to be totally flush for my vacation and now I am going to, instead, be scrambling for money.

At any rate, J is going to come over and take a look at it, which is funny because it was J who fixed it the last time...banging away on the damn thing until the fan motor came out. He spent about 24 hours working on it. I am hoping this time, if it is the motor again, it won't be quite as rusted tight. What I really need is an entirely new unit, but that will have to wait. I am hoping that it is the motor again. Or the solonoid. I am hoping this isn't an expensivey repair. All the better if J can pull it off for the cost of parts and lunch and the pleasure of our company.

I had a nice conversation with J last night. We haven't seen much of him around here lately, and I, for one, miss him. A lot. Monk misses him, too. I'm sure Coley does, as well...but lately all Coley ever thinks about is his mama (me). We are all supposed to go on an outing tomorrow before the boys go to their dad's house for. three. weeks.

It was a nice conversation with J, but I wish I wasn't such an oversharing freak. You know, for once in my life, I would like to be able to keep a freaking secret or two. I am finding that oversharing has become almost compulsive with me. Like there is nothing about me that I'm not absolutely willing to prattle on and on about. I want to be able to play it cool with someone...to hold back information. To not be such a freaking arm-waving dork so much of the time. But, no. I will happily spill whatever I am asked (or not even asked in the most remote sense, depending on my mood) to spill.

I would make a horrible spy. So, instead I will listen to the Decemberists and dream of a me who could, instead of spilling factual information, make up elaborate lies about who I am and what I am thinking or feeling or doing. Wouldn't that be fun?

My mother was a Chinese Trapeze Artist
by The Decemberists

My mother was a Chinese trapeze artist
In pre-war Paris
Smuggling bombs for the underground.
And she met my father
At a fete in Aix-en-Provence.
He was disguised as a Russian cadet
in the employ of the Axis.
And there in the half-light
Of the provincial midnight
To a lone concertina
They drank in cantinas
And toasted to Edith Piaf
And the fall of the Reich.

My sister was born in a hovel in Burgundy
And left for the cattle
But later was found by a communist
Who'd deserted his ranks
To follow his dream
To start up a punk rock band in South Carolina.
I get letters sometimes.
They bought a plantation
She weeds the tobacco
He offends the nation
And they write, "Don't be a stranger, y'hear."
"Sincerely, your sister."

So my parents had me
To the disgust of the prostitutes
On a bed in a brothel.
Surprisingly raised with tender care
'Til the money got tight
And they bet me away
To a blind brigadier in a game
Of high stakes canasta.
But he made me a sailor
On his brigadier ship fleet.
I know every yardarm
From main mast to jib sheet.
But sometimes I long to be landlocked
And to work in a bakery.

It is evident that the boys are feeling some stress over their impending 3-week mama vacation. I might say that Coley seems to be particularly affected by it, but Monk has his way of stifling his feelings...or expressing them in odd ways. I have grown somewhat accustomed to it, but it still strikes me sometimes how differently my boys deal with difficult situations.

For instance, Coley has been waking up every night and coming into my room. Today's episode involved him coming into my room, and then crying because he was "having illusions" (his words) that the chair was a monster. I finally had to turn on the light to show him that the chair was, indeed, a chair. And we had a discussion about how it is normal to be afraid of things like that in the night and you need only shed some light on the situation to chase away that fear. Later in the morning, he woke up crying. He is feeling sad because he will miss me when he is at papa's house. There was a lot of talk about how we can have some sadness inside even when we are doing happy things, and that it is important to let that sadness out. So we both cried for a bit, and then Coley felt better and went back to sleep.

I didn't feel much better, though. I know my kids will be fine, but there are some things that their papa is doing in the discipline arena that upset me immensely, and there is really nothing I can do about it. While I feel like these things are incredibly inappropriate, they are not illegal...and it is argued by some that they are actually helpful. It is difficult for me to feel so strongly opposed to these practices...and have my children tell me about them...and have to stand by and allow them when I feel that they are damaging. What do you say to a child when they tell you that the other parent is doing something that you wholeheartedly disagree with, but you don't want to confuse them? I don't want to make the efforts of the other parent futile by being combative, and I don't want to confuse my children, but I desperately want to protect them. I feel like this is one of those things that I am being forced to let go, and I will have to maybe explain to them the best way I know how when they are older. It is distressing to me, though. And I think the timing of the decision on their papa's part to engage in these practices is...disconcertingly...seemingly manipulative.

At any rate. Coley and I have been getting in a lot of snuggle and "I love you" time. I am going to make them each a little picture book to bring with them. Photos of me. Photos of them. Photos of Twyla. Photos of all of us together. Silly photos. And they know my number, and they will be in town almost the whole time. And mama will miss them, but I will also be having fun. My life is complete with them and without them, but they definitely make it more complete.

Coley and I actually talked about emotions and how to express them and how an artist uses emotions to create good art.

And then Monk walks in, in his way, and says "I am going to miss you when I am at dad's house, mom." Which of course makes my heart all melty because Monk is Mr. tough-as-nails-hard-to-get and so rarely expresses emotion that starkly honest. Even though it is so so obvious to me what he is feeling most of the time. But then he adds "Because I won't have anyone to ANNOY."

*sigh* My monk. Of course, he totally had tears in his eyes as he was saying this. So I just smiled and mussed his hair and told him that I would put pictures of him waving his butt at the camera in his picture book, because that way he could look at them and remember all of the times I tried to take a cute picture of him and he, literally, turned tail.

My boys. *sigh*

It is going to be a rough 3 weeks for me. Be on the lookout for a million sappysad posts and/or total silence...or exagerrated silliness. Or other signs of mamaloss.

Ms. Dahlia hooked me up with this video this fine morning. I can hear the birds singing outside, and if I close my eyes, I can imagine it coming true.