feminist blogs

I have been thrown off-kilter by some recent, and some not-so-recent, but lingering situations that have significantly degraded my ability to be trusting of people. I have always had the philosophy that it's best to stay open to people and let them deal with the consequences of whatever they might do to betray that openness. However, whether it's through random dumb luck, or something I'm unconsciously doing when I make choices about who to be open with and who to let into my life, I seem to have encountered an unusual amount of unreliable people over the past few years.

This is not some woe is me post, although I have had moments, days, weeks of "woe-is-me-ness" about this whole thing. I'm well aware that even under the worst of betrayals, the amount of fortune and goodness and goodwill in my life vastly outweighs the bad. But it's just inconvenient. Annoyingly so. It's inconvenient that the sketchy housemate who I took in and was lenient with took off one day owing me a decent chunk of money. It's inconvenient that my current housemate, though he is a good-hearted, good-natured sort, does not seem to understand that I asked him to fix the gate because I cannot, and because the gate is necessary for the well-being of the dog, and that taking the gate off of its hinges and NOT repairing it for over 2 months, forcing us to walk the dog in the backyard 3-4 times a day makes my life inordinately more stressful than it ought to be. And it's especially inconvenient that a person I trusted probably more than I've trusted most other people in my life decided to majorly flake on me in a financial way that is causing me to have to be extra super guarded about my finances, which makes me unable, at this time, to pay for someone ELSE to fix the gate.

You see what I mean. Things add up, and snowball, and I feel buried. And irritated. All of these are small things, none of them are catastrophic. And even all together, they are not really any big deal. However, when added to my long-term trust issues...and coupled with a busy schedule, a new(ish) job, and other ongoing challenges with various challenging people in my life...sometimes it's difficult not to get buried in negativity and cynicism.

That's all I'm saying really. I'm desperately trying to avoid being buried in negativity and cynicism.

So I needed a day like Friday. I needed a day in which I was not responsible for any other children except my own (which is a phenomenon that I had to guiltily request from the person whose child I have watched every Friday for about the past 3 years or so, and who has been extremely helpful in watching my children during that time.) So, CHECK. I needed a day with perfect weather in which I wasn't debilitated by allergies. CHECK. I needed to get out of the house and out from under my little black cloud and into the sunshine. CHECK.

And all of those ingredients added up to make a perfect day. Sure, Monk complained bitterly about having to be outside and playing and *gasp* maybe even EXERCISING. Yes, he actually FAKED AN INJURY and then TRIED TO GUILT TRIP ME when I didn't believe that he was injured (I finally gave in and said "fine...I'm sorry I didn't believe you...if you are really so injured that you can't even walk, let's go to the emergency room." Which caused him to instantly cop to his fake. sigh.) But when all was said and done, and we finally all settled into being out on the creek front, the boys took to creating an elaborate system of complex societies, and I set about meditating on the issues at hand, attempting to dissuade myself from misery.

The most important factor of the day, I think, was the prework. The night before, I had been able to process the events with someone who was not judgmental or overly-needing-to-fix-things (a quality that is way underrated, as far as I'm concerned) and I came to the conclusion that all of these disconnected events were, in fact, not specific to me, but rather random things that all converged, unfortunately, within the same timespan. Given that, it was easier for me to face that, yes, I did have a reason to feel somewhat cynical. And perhaps that cynicism could be instructive and constructive rather than destructive.

It's funny how so much of life is about breathing in and breathing out. Taking in, and putting out. Experiencing, and processing. The problem with getting older is that you not only end up experiencing more beauty and pleasure, just by virtue of being alive, but you also experience more ugliness and grief...all the more because the older you get, the less mobility you have to avoid such things.

And it's funny, because today I am reading _How We Decide_ by Jonah Lehrer...and there's a lot in that book about how the human brain works when it comes to making decisions. There's a quote about loss aversion, and how most people need to hear 5 positive comments to outweight 1 criticism. And I'm thinking perhaps this is why I am drawn to counting blessings in fives.

For me, though, it was enough to have one day of bliss. One day of perfect sunshine that wasn't too hot, and a sky the exact right shade of blue against the outline of richly green trees. One day of boys being boys without being obnoxious.

When it was almost time for us to leave the park, I noticed there was an older man sitting on the creek bed near where my children were playing. Immediately my creep-meter went off...but upon looking closer at this man, I realized he was familiar to me, and in fact he was. He was an old client of mine, one of my favorites. He had come to us as a retiree who needed to return to the workforce, and he needed computer skills in order to do so, and he stuck with us through most, if not all, of our 8 weeks of basic and fundamental classes. Then he disappeared, as all of our clients do, and I hadn't seen or heard from him in a couple of years.

So, we talked while the children explained their worlds to us, he told me what had happened in his world since I had last seen him. He told me I had changed his life. That he used the skills we had taught him, went to school, found a job...but then lost it when the economy crashed. Still, through it all he maintained that he would be a completely different person had he not taken our computer classes. And he meant that in a good way.

I'm sure he had no idea how much I needed to hear that just that day. It was my fifth positive thing that tipped the scales on one negative. How wonderful it is that all of these tiny deposits I put into the people that I serve during my work day come back to me when I least expect them, like giant human windfalls of hope, just when I feel like I've gone broke...

I can't believe I actually just made that pun, but Oh Well. It's Out There. I Did It.

This week was a pisser. I am at a crossroads in my life, the likes of which have inspired many a random, sappy coming of age movie and, much as a beloved wise young man has reminded me, all stories are but one main plotline with varying settings and themes or characters, and all of them are merely archetypes of the truth, which we can always approximate, yet never fully articulate in words.

I'm getting away from myself. Running away with myself. Suffice to say C R O S S R O A D S. We'll leave it at that.

And at this crossroads, to over-explain my metaphor, I am prone to looking back at the lay of the land that led me here, and evaluate the vectors and trajectories of the misty outlines of the mountainous terrain of my future. And I am pausing. And I am hoping.

I am hoping I have done ok. And that I will continue to do OK. I am hoping I have laid a good foundation for my children to build on. I am hoping that I work hard promoting a cause I can really believe in, and actually be blessed to earn money doing it. I am hoping I can make wise choices and cultivate warm and trusting relationships with my friends, family, and co-workers. I am hoping I can show respect and kindness to people I don't know, regardless of their circumstances or approach. And I am hoping that at the end of the week, whether I have actually achieved these things or not, I will remind myself that I have done my best, and I will get out my bubbles...

...and let it all go.

(Thank you to Cecily...for reminding me. Thank you to Carmen, Angela, their beautiful children and my beautiful children...for being there.)

Haven't had a chance in the recent past to really sit down and think about all of the things in my life that I am thankful for. But I had a little household electricity issue over the past 24 hours that kind of jolted me into gratitude mode, so here goes:

• I'm thankful for finding what seems will be a really good, solid, easy going housemate who also happens to be very handy, and willing to create workable boundaries for doing a lot of the work that needs to get done around here.

• I'm thankful that it wasn't expensive to repair the electrical damage left by the last housemate. Last night, the power just went out in the back room for no apparent reason. I spent all night worrying that I was going to have to stretch my meager budget (as I'm still recovering from a couple of other big financial outlays, combined with the lack of housemateness) to pay for a costly repair...and it turns out it was really nothing, but it COULD HAVE BEEN something major had I not been forced to deal with it.

• I'm thankful for little sychronicities like that. I love how something that becomes disproportionally major in my mind can end up being no big deal at all...although it technically could have ended up even more major than my mind could have imagined it.

• I'm thankful for the fact that I have the best job in the universe. A job that engages me, makes me have to think things through, forces me to be patient and understanding with people, allows me to work my empathy muscles on a daily basis, and provides me with a sense of having done good for people while still getting paid to do it.

• I'm so, so thankful for my beautiful children and their silly little ways...and for all of the time we have together. I'm thankful that I get to watch them learn and grow and discover and become these amazing little people with minds and hearts that are so different from mine, yet still familiar and wonderful.
  

And, so it is...I hope whoever reads this has plenty to be thankful for, as well.

I guess it's pretty cliche to say it feels like a long exhalation to be home after spending a month in my hometown staying in the house I grew up in, like, ALL my life (no lie!) with my mother who seems to have done a pretty damn good job of fighting off breast cancer. Ha! Which is so appropriate for her...strong, stubborn woman that she is...having spent the first month of her illness complaining that she was just going to give up...that it wasn't worth it...that her parents died at a much younger age, so this must just be the time for her to die. SIGH.

My mother. So, I stayed with my mother for a month in, mind you, the very same house I lived in from birth until the age of 18, and a couple of intermittent months and visits afterwards...with my children in tow...having not been home for over 7 years.

So, suffice to say, I am feeling a lot of...*emotions*...right now. Things I long to write about. Some I will...maybe. If I don't psyche myself out. Some I won't ever, but wish I would. Some, maybe, I will, but wish I hadn't.

I can say what I loved most about the trip was just reconnecting with the city and the Lake. And understanding, for the first time in my life, a sense of place. I don't know how to describe it, or if it's even real, or if it's just something I am creating in my head to add drama to my life, but I just have never before felt regional pride and always kind of scoffed at people who did. And perhaps I still will, but I just *felt* something incredible every time we would ride into the city on the train and I would see the skyline and my brain would just *explode* with all of the images of people, like, human beings, deciding that it was a really good idea to totally defy our human urge to stay connected to the earth and built gigantic tubes and boxes made of glass and metal, which seem so fragile when you think about it, in which people could live and work and, you know, move furniture around without the whole fucking thing collapsing in a smoldering heap spontaneously.

And, like all things, those feelings are very mixed. There's a sense of pride, certainly, in seeing the tangible result of human industry...and then there's a sense of shame, and fear, and awe, and unworthiness, and dread...and any number of things I feel about any given fact at any particular time, because facts are about as seemingly fragile in construction as glass buildings on a windy lakefront.

And taking the train was marvelous. I never wanted to get off of the train. I got chided by a friend, predictably, for my tendency to always do things the hardest/slowest way. But, really, planes are just gigantic capsules of stress for me. There's the rush to the airport and the rush to check your bags and the rush rush rush through security and rust to get a good seat on the plane and hope that you weren't in close proximity to someone undesirable to you for whatever reason...and be forced into one of those awkward airplane conversations...or one of those awkward airplane conversation avoidancements...and then before you know it you are there, and bam, it's a different place.

It's all too abrupt for me. Yes, it has its place. There are definitely destinations and time limits that make flying better. But I would much rather, actually, even avoid those destinations and time limits altogether if possible, just so I could have a nice, lengthy, relaxing adjustment period in which to prepare myself for the adventure on the other end. Particularly when changing climate or scenery so drastically. I remember when Monk was a baby, we took a few trips by plane, and it wasn't until we took the train to Chicago and the car on a long road trip all over the country, with maps and everything, that I think Monk finally realized that the airplane wasn't just a ride that you get in, and when you get out you are magically in a different world. Like an extended carnival ride. It's really nice, for me, to have that sense of distance and space, and see the lay of the land between destinations. And I am pretty sure the kids enjoyed it, too. Everything from naming the shapes the clouds make in the sky, to marveling over the way the light shifts and changes throughout the day. So much richness and discovery in that experience, I am thankful I had the privilege of taking my time.

Which is something I realized I need to be thankful of more. And exercise more. Taking my time. I so rarely have the privilege of it, but I think I also frequently squander it when I do. There were several occasions on our journey where I was just FORCED to SIT STILL and DO NOTHING. It. Was. AMAZING. I find that I actually really enjoy sitting still and doing nothing when some external circumstance forces me to do so, and it's something I really just need to try to make a habit of without relying on those external circumstances to force me.

But I went to the Art Institute BY MYSELF...I've never done that before, I don't think. There have always been children, and before children friends or even parents or teachers pulling at me and forcing me to move on before I was ready. Or even my own weird need to anticipate what people want me to do even if that's not really what they want me to do...egging me ever onward, never getting a complete feel for anything that strikes me. It was wonderful. Although I did find the collection a little...I don't know...maybe lacking? I just think I actually enjoyed the collection at the Dallas Museum of Art better, and the new contemporary wing in Chicago...especially the photography exhibit...left a LOT to be desired. I really hope they expand it. But the EXPERIENCE of enjoying it alone more than made up for the sparseness of things I find inspirational, and there was definitely enough to keep me interested and engaged for well over 5 hours before meeting up with a friend for dinner and scoring some good zines at Quimby's and taking a quick jaunt to North Avenue Beach to watch the sun go down, all by myself. It was totally lovely. One of my absolutely favorite days of the whole vacation.

But there was also the Museum Of Science and Industry with the kids, where they just played and played and played, and I think learned a thing or two, only don't tell them that, because they will just tell you that they intentionally turned off their learners for the sole purpose of irritating me by not learning anything, and instead all they did was play all day. hahaha. And after we had seen enough - which was very near to closing time, anyway, we wandered around Hyde Park for a time. I used to work there, so I remember the beautiful buildings and blooming beds of flowers...all the gorgeous gothic architecture juxtaposed with boxy modern Frank Lloyd Wright buildings. We ate at Medici, which is where I used to pick up a pizza and potato skins on my break, and worked our way around the campus of the University of Chicago while the sky turned appropriately ominous.

I loved how the weather changed hourly, almost, making every day feel like several different days. Like the last full day, when I took Monk to the Frontier Days festival that I used to go to when I was Monk's age and younger. I camped out in the grass and experienced the weather shift from sunny and hot, to windy, to drizzly, and back to a temperate cool, with all different kinds of sky, while he rode rides and ate disgustingly greasy food (and shared it with me!)

I discovered some things about myself. Do you know I have some degree of vertigo? Standing on platforms waiting for trains was terrifying. Not just the standing there, but whenever I would move to take a picture or something, I just felt this horrible sensation that I might trip and fall. And I felt it empathically, for my children, and it made me a little crazy. At one point I had to tell them "Listen, it's not logical or rational, but I keep feeling like you guys are going to trip and fall, and I am tired, so you will have to just sit down and indulge my irrational fear right now. Please? Thank you." And, bless their hearts, they sat still and indulged me. The troopers.

And it was about sitting around the television set with Mamaw, who played endless games of solitaire and smoked one cigarette after another. Watching Cubs games and Game Show Network. The kids and I joked that we were developing a fierce 2nd hand smoke addiction, but I'm sure we're fine. Especially since we discovered we have Game Show Network here in Austin, too.

And then there was Gar. My wonderful friend and tour guide. Who helped me navigate throughout the city, which made my outings with him so much more relaxed and less pressuredy, and who also told me all sorts of fun facts about the city...like the ledge someone had been perched upon, threatening to jump, just a few days prior. And who enriched our impromptu visit to the Field Museum with his vast knowledge of Archaeology. (and how awesome that we accidentally ended up at the field museum with a real live archaeologist!)

And, of course, there was google maps. My savior. I told the children (and anyone else we met) several times that I would totally marry google maps if it was a man. It never judged me when I got lost, it just remapped me and pointed me in the right direction, or offered a different route, perhaps. *wistful sigh* If only....

I'm sure there is more I am leaving out, but I will have to save it for later. It was a wonderfulawfulawesomelypainfulbeautiful adventure. That about says it all.

Walking through streets of my old neighborhood. Making observations based on remembrances of Halloweens past. So quiet here. So still.

I can totally *feel* myself covering the same amount of ground in so many fewer strides. Here, I am a giant. I go league by league.

There's the house where we babysat and, finding a mortar and pestle, told our parents there was drug paraphernalia.

That was the house with the trampoline...there, they had a pet skunk. I know all of these houses, and I know their histories.

I can identify the authentic from the imposters. I hear all the quiet mysteries.

My best friend lived here, her mother lives here, still. The split rail fence that never made sense to child me appeals to adult me.

I finally, as a grown adult, fully understand what the punks always said about the suburbs, though I thought I always did.

When everthing is pristine and clean, the old and dirty and out of place is obvious. The lure of a packaged serenity.

I camp out in the wet grass of my mom's back yard and hold these moments slightly, gently...before I let them go.

I have a crazy method for keeping chores in order when I have way more to do than I could ever possibly get done. I keep a huge list of all of the chores and activities that I need to get done on a regular basis, and I find interesting and creative ways of randomizing that list. I have been in robot mode all week, getting ready. Writing lists, and checking things off. And just moving from task to task...

So it was nice when friend stopped by today to rescue me from my self-inflicted state of doingness. It popped me out of productivity mode for a bit (even though my productivity mode was turning into making lists and watching TV instead of actually doing anything) and it was good to relate to another human being for a bit.

I don't think there's enough of that in my life. Normally, I am not a huge fan of random "pop-ins" from friends, but I am a HUGE fan of talking to people about random things. My day-to-day life doesn't involve enough of that, I don't think. Particularly with people I don't talk to often. I would like to change that, and invite more diverse perspectives and conversations into my life. It's making me really think about an idea that my neighbor M had about possibly having weekly or monthly "cafe's" in my house. Converting my rental room into more of a gathering space for artists and craftspeople or just plain old freaks and weirdos to come and share their knowledge and have conversations and maybe coffee. But how can I do it and still get some money from that space? Do I charge and entrance fee? Do I have workshops and fundraisers? Do I leave out a tip jar and sell $1 cups of coffee?

I've actually had this idea several times over, so it's not like I've never considered opening my home up to this kind of shared, communal space. I'm kind of weird in that I really love talking to and meeting new people, but I also really need a great deal of privacy. I get frustrated with housemate situations, because I always feel like I'm being anti-social with my housemates, and I worry that I seem snooty when I'm actually just retreating to my room to be alone. And I have this huge collection of zines, great music to listen to and share...and friends who do a lot of interesting stuff. It would be so neat if I could offer a space for people to teach and share and sell their creations...and perhaps incorporate some sort of zine library into the space, as well.

This is something I'm going to have to consider while I'm gone. I could easily make that back room more of an office space, and there's still plenty of floor space for movement or creation. It's a pretty versatile space, and has it's own bathroom. What I need to do is fine one person who I can rely on to brainstorm with me and come up with ideas for how to utilize it, how to "market" it, and how to make it happen.

Maybe I can just throw in a couple more washing machines and go with the idea I had to create an anarchist laundromat called "revolutions." hahaha.

Anyway, I know it's a crackpot, hare-brained scheme...but it's worth considering. There aren't enough cozy little spaces for people to just GATHER and talk and share without any sort of intervening commercial interest. Granted, my commercial interest is generating some sort of income for my spare room, but I'm not trying to sell anything other than the space...just trying to find a way to have my space, and my privacy too.

I am going home, with all that entails, for a brief, but extended, amount of time. Here are my hopes for that journey.

First, I am thankful for my job, and hope it still exists when I return. hahaha. I'm thankful that I have a job from which I can depart for an extended amount of time so I can be with a loved one who is ill. I'm thankful that I have a job that affords me the luxury of being able to afford such a trip. I'm thankful I will be missed while I am gone.

I am also thankful for my friends, who will be looking after things for me while I am gone, and who I can trust and rely on when I need them. I'm thankful for their energy and creativity. I'm thankful for the friends I am temporarily leaving behind, as well as the friends I will be reacquainting myself with. I'm thankful I will be missed while I am gone, and that I will be welcomed back when I return.

I am thinking, specifically, about my friend John, with the photographer's eye that never ceases to amaze me. Mostly because I was just sitting here with another friend, getting psyched about the trip, and showed her his photos and we both were all "Awww....beautiful!...Love him!" And that made me think about John. Always smiling. Always happy. Always sweet. And how thankful I am for the ever-presence of such people in my life. People who rejoice in life completely, and still remain aware of the fact that the rejoicing is itself a privilege to rejoice in...and so we create.

And so, my goal for myself while I am away is to reconnect with that joy in living that doesn't just inspire but ENFORCES creativity. And to find new ways to release that joy...and in so doing, new ways to connect with life.

If I can do that, I will feel satisfied. And I'm pretty sure I can do it...so I'm pretty sure I'll come home feeling very very damn satisfied.

Perhaps I'll write more when I'm there and in it. :)

That I am an original nerdster. Or perhaps I was more like second wave nerdster. Either way, I have been blogging for a long time, and evidently, the fact that I no longer blog regularly makes me EVEN MORE legit. Woot!

And, of course, when my waning desire to blog is validated, the desire to blog ceases to wane and begins to wax...so here I am waxing to all of you who still visit this space on occasion. Call it an update, of sorts. Random meanderings of more than 140 characters, unbelievably.

It's been a wonderful sxsw week so far. To think, before I became involved in the whole interactive festival, I scoffed at sxsw like every other grouchy Austinite, not wanting to deal with traffic and crowds that increase in proportion to your proximity to downtown.

This was the first year in 3 or 4 years that I did not manage to score a pass for the interactive festival. I did not witness a single panel directly, and I did not think I was going to be able to attend any of the good parties, seeing as how I have the children with me this spring break.

And yet...through the miracle of Twitter, I was able to keep up with at least the chatter during the panels, and through the wonders of children who are old enough to throw mama out of the house when her friends-she-only-sees-once-a-year are in town, I was actually able to make it out to some of the best events I've ever attended in the history of my sxsw goingness.

It's wonderful...refreshing...and altogether too rare for me to find time for a party, much less 2-3 parties within the span of a weekend. And yet, this past weekend, I forced myself to make the time, and was so glad for it.

More and more these days I realize how much my life is like it has always been. How I am the sum total of all of my experiences - good, bad, and indifferent - and I'm quite happy with the results. I can't imagine myself being any other way. And I realized this weekend that I have almost always met my favorite people in ways that some people label disconnected, virtual, or otherwise unreal. In high school, it was through zines that I made my best acquaintances - some distant, some close...both geographically and emotionally. These days, I am even less inclined to meet people cold, without some sort of technology-mitigated introduction. My life is busy, hectic, scattered, and oddly scheduled. And meeting people by chance is even more rare than the rarity of actually getting together with the people I DO know and love and, quite frankly, those people take precedence because...quite frankly...most new people I meet bore the living crap out of me. hahaha.

This is why my hackles get raised when people question the legitimacy of online relationships. Of course they are real...regardless of their scope. They are no less real than people you meet while at work, at the gym, at a bar, or in line at a grocery store. None of these situations are more organic than the other, and in any of these situations, people can lie about Who They Really Are and end up surprising you down the road by being Someone Else Altogether.

And so it is that I find myself every year - and occasionally, when I am lucky, more frequently - in the company of some of the most wonderful people I have ever had the privilege to meet. I am so glad I had the opportunity to share a couple of parties, some meals, karaoke, and a lovely adventure involving flowers, cameras, and silliness.

I know everyone thinks their circle of friends are the best. I know it's cliche to say "My friends are the awesomest and I am incredibly blessed to have them." But damnit if it isn't true of all of my little circles. And damnit if I am not blessed. But my twitter/sxswi/nerd circle is remarkable in the same way that most conscientiously selected communities are remarkable. It is a group of people who are all connected in varied and diverse ways, who are committed to learning from and teaching each other via shared experience. Each person has some unique, integral contribution to the group as a whole...and the group as a whole is a spectacular organism. A force to be reckoned with. One that I admire from the outside, and feel fortunate to occasionally participate in from the inside. I could probably write a bunch more superlatives and still not adequately articulate my appreciation for everyone...

So I will just say thank you to my sxsw/twitter nerds for yet another wonderful year of celebration. It's so timely that this event happens every year right before the start of springtime. All of the thoughtfulness, the laughter, the learning, the partying, the hugging, and the LOVE is such a wonderful way to remind myself that this season is all about renewal, hope, joy, and life.

Safe travels to everyone. I will miss your faces and the sound of your laughter, but fortunately I will still have your words...until next year!

I have a difficult time admitting to myself when I am in pain. I like to think I have a really high pain threshold and I just don't experience discomfort as intensely as most people...but who really knows whether or not that's true. Maybe I'm just not IN as much pain as most people. Maybe I'm really well practiced in the art of denial...

So I found myself with what seemed to be an injury a few weeks ago. A tweak in my right foot that ran the gamut from sharp, shooting pain to dull, throbbing ache whenever I would wake up in the morning and first try standing on my foot. I have to say, as old as it makes me sound, I thought it was the freaking weather! I brushed it off, thinking I just needed to walk it out. And I proceeded to maintain my normal level of activity (which isn't terribly strenuous, but I do like to dance around a lot and I love my daily walks!)

It took me about 3 weeks to admit to myself that it wasn't going away. Ha. Hey! I never said I wasn't a stubborn old lady! And I finally admitted that I might need to modify my behavior in order to allow myself to heal. In other words...I have put myself on the injured players list, and instead of heading out with the dog at 2 AM like usual, I am forcing myself to read a book. And instead of getting up and dancing around my bedroom when Sly and the Family Stone comes up in the mix (Uuuuuunderrrrrrdawwwwwwg!)...I shake my bootie in the reclined position only, thank you very much.

And my foot feels much much better. Of course, there's always that period, when recovering from an injury, where you feel better enough to resume activity...but you really aren't. For that, I have a good friend to remind me to sit my ass down and wait it out.

And so, because I like to draw comparisons and create metaphors out of silly things like an old lady injuring her foot because she's a klutz and can't seem to be able to resist twisting ankles or stepping on errant legos...I've been thinking about all of the ways in which we refuse to recognize when we need to take it easy. And how eager we are to continue on as if we feel no pain, when in fact a little rest will renew our vigor and allow us to invest ourselves in our activities with greater enthusiasm. Not to mention how being sidelined brings the importance of our normal activities into sharp focus. I mean, I have always appreciated my daily walks, but now I YEARN for them. And perhaps the pining away is good for me. I've always said that the better part of love is the longing.

What else, I wonder, physical, mental, emotional...what else do I need to take a break from? Are there things from which a break would allow not renewed vigor, but a realization that I didn't really need to be doing, thinking, feeling it in the first place? Are there things I have taken a break from inadvertantly or unconsciously that I need to renew?

And what have we collectively been neglecting? Obviously we, as a nation, have just rid ourselves of a horrifyingly debilitating entity. How long do we allow ourselves to heal before we do in fact, pick ourselves up, put our best walking shoes on, and go forth bravely into this new era.

I'm being told that the time is now, but I feel like I am still nursing some wounds.

Yes
I realize
It's all a gigantic spectacle.

It's
just that for once
It's a spectacle I can enjoy.