texas: home of the american portion

whew. made it out of new orleans alive. man that city is crazy. the last 24 hours we were there really brought that home to me. on the last night, the queen went to a show, leaving me in the care of pixie. but pixie wasn't home, and while i had a key to their place, i was so exhausted, i just went to sleep on the bus, and didn't wake up til late at night. i stayed up to wait for the queen, who came stumbling home at five in the morning, after walking through the ninth ward. the next day, pixie was shocked he had done so. "walking in the ninth ward at night? after drinking? i'm amazed he didn't get mugged." (i may have paraphrased slightly) she then told me several terrifying stories of muggings; she has been shot at and seen her friend pistol-whipped in front of her. both times she was on a bicycle, on her way somewhere.

i am glad she told me these stories after he came home. the next day he woke up quite hungover with a few good stories. we double-checked he still had all his things; dude didn't even lose his zippo. the only casualty seems to be a horrible crick in his neck that has spread through to his shoulder and grown in density to resemble a rock. pixie mentioned that clearly, someone was looking out for him. he and i talked about how he used to be much more crazy in his twenties, and told me some stories i won't repeat here because they aren't mine. but yeah; that's my man!

truthfully, the incident really opened my eyes to something: i am vulnerable. i have been trying to avoid this, bargain with it or deny it since i got pregnant. my dislike of vulnerability has been the driving force behind not doing a lot of things: not staying in long-term relationships, not going through a long-term university education, not travelling overseas; i don't like investing a lot into something where i might not get much return. i prefer to travel light, so to speak. well those days are over, aren't they? while staying up waiting for the queen in the wee hours of the morning, i came to terms with my vulnerability. it's funny how we can't force acceptance, no matter how many times we try to fake it. when it comes, it comes (and usually doesn't stay, sigh).

after my last blog entry, we had some serious discussion. a few really great things came out of it. one is that i still feared the queen would break up with me and leave me screwed (see: vulnerability). things he has said and done since then have reassured me i can begin to let go of that fear (and replace it with other, more interesting fears! like children!). another interesting thing that came of the talking we did was him calling me on my walls. i was, of course, very defensive about this, and he backed off, which allowed me the breathing space to realise he had a point. i have some great walls. even my close friends know i keep a distance. i am a loner. i need time to myself. but when is this healthy and when is it hiding?

the empathy thing: sometimes it feels like my 'safe distance' is other people's intimacy. i don't think most people really notice that i keep myself so closed, it's like i can fake it way too easily. but i know my close friends probably notice. i hope they do. it's been difficult to figure out how close is too close, because i don't like seeing more about people than they do themselves. with the people i care for the most, this feels like part of how i respect them: give them their privacy, stay a little bit away. let them figure themselves out. be a friend, not a know-it-all who can dissect their emotions for them. but after talking a bit with the queen, i realise that maybe i do this too well. that i block the people i care for. that i justify my hiding with rationalizations of respect and privacy, when really it's a desire not to be vulnerable. block their emotions so i don't have to feel so much. because feeling when i feel all the time can be rough.

for my own emotional sharing, like most people, i think i come clean about stuff when i feel pressured - either by people (this isn't usually a good thing in a friendship. there are very few people i am okay being pressured by.) or by circumstance. when i was dating k, i came to the wife in tears after he got messed up on substances and was violent toward me. the wife, bless her, was amazing (this is what i am talking around in this early entry). but i don't pour my emotions out to her regularly, even though we lived together for over a year and have known each other for six, maybe seven. oh sure, i talk about my emotions. as the queen said, talking hides my passion. another person i once knew well commented that i only release things as a full package: i tell you what i was going through, not what i am going through.

those walls protected me for a long time. but maybe they're hindering me now, maybe they're blocking the sun.

anyway, we're in texas now. austin is actually really, really great. so much live music! we saw an improvisational jazz band last night, and the queen bought a banjo today. also, we glutted ourselves at a half-price book and vinyl store. i found a soundtrack to a neil young film. yeah, that's what i said... oh, and there is an entire gluten-free café! unless you are denied it, you have no idea how good it is to be able to order anything on the menu. the nutritional vixen mentioned this in relation to vegetarianism when we were visiting her, and i share this happiness with her by proxy; oh goddess it was so wonderful. the focaccia!

oh another hilarious postscript to making it out of new orleans alive: after the queen slept some of it off, we packed up and dropped pixie's key off. we almost simultaneously realised two things: i didn't have my laptop, and the bus wouldn't start. it was a heart-dropping moment. but the queen recharged hank's batteries and she's been chugging ever since (go hank!) and he also remembered we went to a bookstore after the coffee shop two days previously, and indeed, beth's books had held onto my ancient little powerbook g4. so please, send them some money or karma or whatever. they are not only a good bookstore, but they are kind and sweet and honest souls. they are website-less, but located next to this decent coffee shop. yeah, i know most of my readers totally live in new orleans. yep. that link will definitely result in more business for beth's.

off on interstate ten through new mexico to arizona! ta for now.

from the royal desk

i'm at the queen's. sitting at his desk, typing on his apple, with his cat tucked behind me on the chair. i feel restless. a bit hungover still. very drunk at the suburbs last night, and later in the queen's chariot, all a mess about rape.

sometimes i get really drunk and cry really hard about something over which i have no control. some region of my unconscious mind comes up with one of the 'problems' and i let out some of the angst and tension that comes from my experiences, personal observation and/or media intake. today's show is brought to you by rape! sigh.

we didn't invite it to be a sponsor, it just showed up and started blundering about.

so after we left the show (the openers reminded me of reverend horton heat; rockabillyish. but with more metal.), i cried. i cried on the trip home, i cried in my house, in bed quietly, long after even the spiders were sleeping. this morning at work my eyes were swollen (other parts of my body were equally forthcoming with their feedback, yes).

yeah, i'm not a rape fan. but then, i find it a necessary part of a satisfying equation that the fruits i enjoy were given to me - even if i pay for them, they need to be given or i'd rather go without. in the same vein, i'm not a patron of slavery. okay, in truth, i am sure i have purchased slave labour items in my lifetime. this is where locally made goods come in; i actually do spend a fair chunk of my modest wage buying local food, clothes, cat food, chocolate and coffee are fairly traded. how the hell am i supposed to feel about myself if i purchase slave-made goods? like i'm a smart shopper? like i have an eye for a deal? what kind of twisted bullshit is that?

fascinating digression into a different fury. back to the subjugation and violation of another person's body by force. i get angry, but last night it was more the sorrow. i recall the queen being a reassuring voice. eventually, late into the night, i decided that at least one thing i could "do about it" was to celebrate and appreciate the people i know who respect consent. no, it's not tattooing rapists, but sadly, that's not my style. what is my style is positive feedback and making it cool to be on team we.

occasional smiting is healthy

i'm finding in myself right now a readiness to be angry.

there are so many reasons i do not let myself show anger. i think it is a weakness to allow rage to be displayed. it rarely gets me what i want from someone. i do not appreciate other people's anger, so why would i let mine spew everywhere? control is a virtue, i tell myself. it is a sign of my intelligence and discipline that i can control my anger. i remember a zen book by charlotte joko beck which discussed anger. in my poor paraphrasing, a student asked "what about that kind of anger that is like a clean sheet, sweeping over everything, burning away the old and broken?" and charlotte responded something to the effect of "how often do you see that anger? i see only the kind that burns carefully built connections, that wrecks days and relationships."

all in all, the votes cast anger out into the realm of 'bad emotions', or maybe just 'good to know you have 'em, bad to share'. but in the delirium of being ill, my temper was shorter, and i let anger, no, that is not how it went, i do not feel like i 'let' anything... and anger slipped through the cracks of my veneer of control. and it felt wonderful. now i know some kinds of 'good' feelings are dangerous; addictive, seductive, implying more power-over. but i have been reconsidering my ruthless abolition of anger.

for one, anger is generally regarded as a step up from depression. not an ideal state to stay in, but a wonderfully effective stepping stone. stepping to where? if you follow david hawkins (i don't, but i like his chart), on to pride and then courage. if you follow elise lebeau (whom i quite like, despite or perhaps because her ways are so simple), on to boredom, doubt, frustration and impatience. i'm more annoyed at lebeau's path, which suggests something there for me to learn. frustration is not my favourite emotion. i would rather strike it with lightning and move on.

both hawkins and lebeau stress that the emotion you are feeling is less important to your mental health than the direction you are heading in. so i am choosing to see the anger as a healthier step in my development. also, i am trying (and it is quite easy) to let off short bursts of anger rather than smiting someone in a fiery pit of foreverness. and for two, if you value our social interactions as learning, it's important to show people when they have overstepped their bounds. i don't have to scream about their mother, but letting my annoyance show is valuable feedback, and feedback most people will remember.

on a lovely side note, the people closest to me are the least annoying. SF is incredibly warm and loving with increasing notes of attractive vulnerability, and the wife i am moving out on is impeccable in her support. i do not wish to smite these lovelies. rather, i wish to strike with divine lightning people who drive too fast and kill the cats on my street, people who assume i wish to see them when they show up unannounced, people who sneer at the homeless or flaunt their newfound knowledge of beat poetry (okay, maybe the poetry thing i can swallow).

my internal grandma insists that i respect the power of anger: what is done cannot be undone, and apologies certainly mean less to me the more i am hurt. a new toy is fun, says grandma, but what if you hurt people? how will you feel then? however, there is another part of me which suggests that to deny my anger when it is a reasonable reaction is to disrespect myself and my intuitive response. so when is it reasonable? grandma raises a valuable point when she wonders whether i will use anger when i shouldn't: when i am having a 'bad day', when i do not wish to accept that i am wrong, when expressing that i am hurt would be more of an honest reponse. damn, grandma is wise. i absorb this wisdom, hopefully.

watch me flex the sword of anger with care. watch me grow.

sense of gratitude

i don't know if it's the free time on my hands, the book i'm reading being a handy reminder of my ability to choose my family, living with a child or even something as simple as an actual autumn this year (instead of the short visit of falling leaves to which i am accustomed), but i've been rockin' with gratitude in the past few days.

what occurred to me this morning as i read and drank tea was the bravery required to love again. to love the first time is to master the fear of the unknown. to then experience death and loss, heartwrenching. but then. to realize that love can recur, with all of the loss and suffering inherent with daily living, and with the added fear stemming from how easily it can all be lost... the strength of will and heart required (even through the argument of 'what else can we do, what else is there?') to try again brought me to a moment's silence.

there is honour there.

enjoying and exerting my freedom and facilitating the opportunity for others to exert their own freedom, this is all that i ask of myself. the exertion and facilitation of freedom can come through so many activities! supporting art, supporting human rights, supporting the sharing of information, supporting self-awareness and respect... sharing my own process, loving and caring for the world around me, listening, asking myself where my food comes from, laughing, playing, seeking out new muses... bringing awareness to the daily processes and difficulties of eking out a dignified life; being compassionate.

rolling out the dough

it's that spot where the emergencies seem to be over but normalcy has not returned, and systems are still on yellow alert.

decisions are on the table. and i cannot shelve them. things like "how does forgiveness work in a relationship that has taken a major blow but still has strong roots?" and "when a friend screws another friend over, or when friends gang up on a friend without taking the time to investigate the full story, who are my friends and do i get involved?" (yeah, that's about forty questions) or even the simple "what do i sacrifice when i can't have it all?" which i wonder why i don't put into practice when the answer is so obvious. sacrifice my lazy habits. not my rewards, my lazy habits. eating out three times a week because i can't be bothered to pack a lunch ends up being far more expensive than a once-a-month camping trip.

okay. solve the simple ones and work backwards. from finances, we move on to love and self-care. uhhh, maybe go back to finances. can i solve someone else's problems? so much easier... (i am willing to trade: email me! just kidding - it's like peeing for someone else. the logistics get all messy. okay, i'll get off the couch and move the cat)

i guess my uncertainty and self-doubt is broken down into two sets. one, the "haven't done this before" set. i tend to walk away when people suck. but when someone acknowledges they sucked, apologizes, doesn't attempt to justify, takes away the means that enabled their suckiness, commits to working on the source of the trouble AND i still care for them and value the relationship, then i'm all for a second chance. it's just that people don't tend to go for that option. but someone has! which makes them pretty freaking fabulous for an erring human, i think.

this leads into the second set of self-doubt. i call this the "yeah, but i tend to talk myself into repeating the same lousy judgment patterns over again" set. the counter-argument notes that i have stated facts, not judgments. except for the word "commit". how have they committed to seeking the source(s) of their behaviour? how long until i am certain of their commitment? it's good that i have identified my own need for safety, but can i really rely on someone else's priorities being the same as mine? this is the question i come back to. i don't want eternal proof (mostly since it would take an eternity to get, and somewhat because i continue to believe i am not that anal). but i need to decide when to trust the process and that person. sounds like my brain has taken me pretty far, and time to check in with my heart.

friends. no. brain resists. another day. the gossip-mill will continue to find fodder, and more victims will likely fall before we, as a community, realize how obnoxious and poisonous it can be to listen to one version and not the other before forming an opinion. if my peer group was late teens, i would be more sympathetic. kwan yin gets displaced by grandma shocked-and-appalled.

expectations killed the cat, but PR hid the fact

everyday things are sometimes nicer than the special events. this weekend, we held a free sale in our front yard. it was quite lovely, many lovely people came by. but in the end, my roommate and i felt a bit drained, and that we really didn't want to spend the whole weekend sitting on the lawn saying "no really - it's free" to the doubters. although now that it's done, i'm quite proud of us.

between the free sale, the board meeting (the first time the board had met since spring; eek) and the regular household required activities (where did those dishes come from? i mean, they must multiply, but only when they're dirty. it's some kind of science issue, where the sink allows for high-energy transactions that let the dishes temporarily break the "do not create or destroy" law. as soon as they're washed, the universe notices the exception to the rule and *poof!* they opt out of existence, leaving us once again with only six butter knives.) i feel like the coming full-time workweek is going to be more relaxing than my weekend was. though i engaged in what, in retrospect, turned out to be a date. that was lovely.

however, the influx of lovely folks to the free sale re-inspired me to try and get to the equinox event. i wasn't previously very excited about it. i feel like i've had enough of groups that are trying to organize but keep getting pulled into ego and drama. but the visitors this weekend reminded me that the level of enjoyment is directly related to my expectations for the event. i have previously set the bar higher than i intend to set it this time. i think i have wanted an environment where everyone respects the space of others. a bit tricky to manage when definitions of 'respect' vary wildly. this time, i just want to go to see what they've been up to.

curiosity. so much more fun than expectations. hey, that's been applied to my love interest lately too!