trespass sweetly urged

beaucoup trop = too much

There's too much going on, too many responsibilities and issues alurk.

I have a build up of laundry and dishes. I'll blame that partially on the 18 Nov Day w/Out Natural Gas. We're running out of clean undies and socks for Jasper. He's peed on (but not in) his trousers at school almost every day the last week or two. Apparently, Jasper's got some issues with aim while sitting on the potty.

These two tasks are literally growing around me, and I'm overwhelmed. Partly, don't want to do laundry because of the expense, though I went ahead and got change for $5 at Safeway tonight, in good faith that maybe I'd get some laundry done. The dish water has been drawn up countless times, but no dishes done. I cannot simply get the urge to do them.

Today, Jasper still had a fever from the night before, despite two doses of acetaminophen, at appropriate intervals, of course. So, I couldn't take Jasper to school. And, though I'd made tentative arrangements for back-up childcare with Uncle Allan, I was too exhausted from the night before to wake up in time to complete some community service hours (that I actually had some intrinsic interest in completing).

Then we got ready to leave for parenting class. I'd hoped it would be okay to have Jasper in childcare for the two hours the class would take, but we ended up getting turned away once we got there. I'm okay with that, though I really want to end this parenting class BS as soon as possible; now I'll have to return in ten weeks to complete Lesson Four.

We headed to the bus stop. When I saw it would take a good twenty minutes for the bus to arrive, I thought we'd try our hand at what appeared to be a food bank at the Salvation Army building behind us. We got some bread and bakery items, along with some bananas, apples, and a sack of lettuce.

I accidentally/incidentally missed Food Not Bombs yesterday, so this helps. I feel, however, like I got a lot of shit I don't really need. I mean, I don't need three boxes of scones and two of cookies. But, now that I have them, I'm going to eat them and stuff my cheeks with them like the stingy [read: genuinely afraid of not having enough to eat] little squirrel that I am. I feel so fat and strung out on refined sugar :/

I just ate two pieces of pumpkin pie.

Also, tmrrw is another gamble. If Jasper is still feverish, Clinton and I have decided it would be best to get Jasper to his doctor. This means, I'll have to call Clinton to fetch Jasper and/or make an appointment with Dr. Katie. I may or may not be able to put in my typical three hours of work. I would have to take Jasper with me to therapy. This would be okay, since I was considering doing it on Wednesday anyway, but I was really looking forward to at least one "real" session this week. I'd cancel Wednesday's session. I may or may not be able to go to the University District food bank like I was planning on.

If Jasper is well, it's business as usual... but I have to make all these decisions at 7am tmrrw. I'm feeling a little stressed.

Back to the community service, I'm freaking out b/c I'm supposed to get in these 25hrs by 5 Jan 2010 and I'm starting to genuinely doubt I'll be able to make the cut. I have very little availability. I can work from 9am-1pm on Thursdays. I could also put in time on Sundays, but I haven't found a place that wants hours then. There's a possibility for Fridays, though I really don't want to give up the one free day I have with Jasper, both for his sake and mine. Even if I could arrange childcare for Fridays, I'm not sure where I'd get hours in.

Did I mention I'm trying to do this all via bus? I have a minivan, but I cannot afford fuel for her, nevermind maintenance. I disregarded that when I drove to work on Saturday, and I nearly perished with fear and loathing. I've also spent more money on food this month than I can budgetarily afford, esp if I can't work tmrrw. I've spent around $50. My dad's been helping me for several months now, and I haven't gotten a check this month yet.

I'm stressing.

And stressing makes me feel like a failure.

And it feels like everyone else has more than me, either by having fewer issues or responsibilities or sensitivities and/or by having more friends, resources, love.

Feeling this way makes me feel like a whiny asshole.

Maybe it's just the sugar talking...


~andrea

I think I wish there were something word-wise I could say right now, but it's not surfacing. My mind feels like a changeling soup, as that from which Odo might have come. It's a little frustrating, b/c there's a lot of stuff to process lately and I want it done now... or do I?

In a way, I'm content with the amorphous ambiguity, though a little less tolerant of the uncomfortable/negative feelings/thoughts that arise. Satisfaction mingles with yearning, fatigue with zest, gaiety with mournfulness, hope with woe. My inner world pushes and pulls, further from and closer to ppl as the tide of thoughts ebbs and flows, though not respectively.

There are feelings of disgust, anger, loneliness, fear, exclusion, condemnation, failure that are coming up. While I don't know if I -enjoy- them, I think I'm sitting with them a little better. Friday was horrid, however. I could barely tolerate being in my own skin. My thoughts were so self-toxic, and I couldn't seem to escape them. I don't want to brush them aside completely, though, because I am still toying with the idea that (some of) the criticisms were valid, though harsh or exaggerated... and yet, I can't hold them. So, maybe they're not useful.

Everything is okay right now.

But then, I'll feel like everything is NOT okay right now!!

And I suppose both things are true.

For the time being, I'm ignoring two okcupid persons/conversations, which brings up lots of opportunities for guilt, etc. I'm trying to be gentle with myself, to acknowledge that if I'm not ready to handle them, likely offering closure to the conversations, then it's not time to do so. And while I don't aim to cause anyone harm, my intentions are to not do so and that counts for a great deal with me.

Otherwise, I'm feeling this at once healthy and light as well as heavy and unhealthy pull toward my friend Bryan. I am writing this somewhat as a way to make my feelings known to him... I like some of the yummy things I felt in spending time with him. While I am able to find fault with him, I'm fond of his particular scheme of attributes... I feel yucky when I feel him pull away, or offer less than I'd like of togetherness energy... Right now, I'm grappling with my own self-loathing (misdirected self-protection device) for feeling connected and sweet and sweaty about him, as well as feeling like he's pulled away, or that I want him closer/more often (is that even true??) and he wants me further/less often.

ngah.

Sunday evening, I saw a glimpse of synergy with him. A mutual, dynamic conversation, with us equally potent... but it was just a glimpse... I'm wary of making too much of it, but likewise letting it slip away if there's more.

I've had several friends point out to me, as though I could not see it for myself, that I am wading through a lot of responsibilities and issues right now, and that perhaps seeking an intimate relationship is not the best idea, or that it's actually counter-productive. This makes me ache. I cannot seem to help but translate this to mean that I currently do not deserve a partner, though I know that is not what anyone is meaning or implying.

I keep feeling like what I really want is a partner. One friend pointed out how perhaps starting a relationship on unequal footing would create a permanent limp. I could see that happening, and yet part of me hopes for some currently inarticulable way in which a partner could come in, and slowly but surely offer the kind of dedicated intimacy that I want... without either of us feeling indebted or burdened by the other.

But maybe I don't want to be too close to anyone right now. I changed my okcupid and lovelab profiles, saying that, though single, I'm only looking for friends. ::shrug::

There are also my feelings and issues with Kheper, but they seem a little less focal. I think I attached too much at first to his acquaintance, and perhaps I do not truly see him. Also, it was while spending time with him that I came upon the toxic internal tide on Friday. Though not -his- -fault-, I feel the need to withdraw from him a little and get my footing. I think I was approaching him from an insecure/unhealthy stance.

There have been some opportunities for communal living sprouting around me... and I feel a general anxiety. I think I have been quite burned in the past by communal living situations. I have a hard time thinking they could actually serve and include me. And it just seems like a lot of work.

Okay, all of a sudden, I'm done.

~andrea

From Bryan:
High school; tell me about it.
You felt like an outcast, no?
Where did you channel your energy or creativity?
Why did you feel like an outcast?
Lack of popularity?
Why do you think you were unpopular?
Did you feel like becoming an adult left you fitting in better?
Do you still feel like an outcast?
What changed?
What didn't?
What do you want to change?
Why do you think it has not?
How do you feel about Jasper going to public school?
What do you intend to warn him about?

hmmm...

Yes, I felt like an outcast. Sometimes I felt like it was some intentional thing, that whenever I surfaced, people were repulsed or simply failed to get me. A lot of it, however, was feeling like I didn't surface, I was ignored, and was not interesting to anyone. I was not interested in the things that most kids my age appeared to be interested in. I wanted friends, but there just weren't available the kinds of people with whom I wanted to hang out.

In junior high I'd managed to pseudo-insert myself into a group or two of gals, but it was by my efforts, and I never felt the interest reciprocated. I think I knew I didn't identify with any of them very much, but they were relatively accepting and/or familiar. In high school, those groups had mostly disbanded and reconfigured, and while I think there might have been phases of people I'd sit with at breakfast or lunch, I never felt like I was a significant member of a group that anyone would miss. I was kind of weird and intense, it seemed, and no one resonated with me. I felt kind of objectified and isolated by virtue of who I was.

The dominant extracurricular theme was orchestra. I started playing viola in sixth grade, continued through junior high, and was section leader from my junior (sophomore?) year on in high school. I was also the orchestra vice president, and then president my senior year... at least I think; it was so bloody long ago! I put a lot of energy into this. I was very passionate and serious about music and about playing in an orchestra.

I was part of all the extra-extracurricular gigs and ensembles. I also played in the regional professional symphony my junior and senior years, though never making past the last chair, which was fine. At regional and statewide events, I still felt incredibly inferior to other violists and musicians in general. I was rather good, but not great, and memorizing sheet music, the next big step in my growth as a musician, proved a formidable opponent to me. I felt deflated and defeated.

My social interactions were almost exclusively generated through orchestra. There was a strong unit of buddies in the class ahead of me, though I never really could get my foot in the door with them. I lusted after their familiarity and inclusiveness with one another, even though I didn't always like them that much. I crushed on a couple guys really hard, but aside from one ill-fated letter, I never acted outwardly on them. My last year, I had several freshman in my section who were genial and looked up to me a bit, but that ended when class or rehearsal was over. I'd formed a decent bond with my director, whom I'd known through church and family prior to high school, but it wasn't a reliable source of attention and support.

My junior and senior years, I also began taking art at school. It was fun, though also limited, and I was rather good at it, but my classmates in those two or three classes were of absolutely little to no social value to me. I was me; this "weird" person who was really intellectual, formal, intense, goofy, and bizarre. Some of this picture of me was largely about being from a caucasian academic family, rather than the "normal" hispanic working-class one.

I think one of the strongest things that kept me from associating with my peers, beyond just not resonating with them, the kinds of people I'd wanted to associate with simply not extent, were some of the moral beliefs I held. Though they were largely influenced by my then devotion to Christianity, in my own personal, intense, and strange way, they were things that made sense to me, as me.

I was bent on being abstinent until I was married or really darn close to it. While I had sexual impulses, they were not overbearing, and my mind, my beliefs, and my upbringing left me kind of horrified of sex. I think I'd hoped it could be beautiful and intimate, but it seemed it was so often ugly and base. I felt polarized against a [Mexican-American border] culture which paid lip service to condemning sexual promiscuity, but more often condoned if not encouraged it.

Alcohol and drug use seemed to stir the same kind of shit.

Writing all of this, while I feel a little defensive about coming across as a prude, as per usual, I feel pride. I think I knew myself and what was right for me... and I was just lonely. I've always been more intense and sensitive than the average bear; my emotional, spiritual, and intellectual intelligences leaving me practically peerless. I had less than a handful of meaningful friendships, and did my very best to nurture them. High school was not the best environment for me, though I still survived and grew.

In a way living in Seattle, specifically when it comes to the other twenty-somethings, is not wholly dissimilar from high school. I want in, because I want to be accepted, appreciated, loved, but not necessarily with the people that are out there, partly because they just can't. I still meet new people, strike up conversations with people, do my best to be accessible and available, and generally extend and accept invitations to connect... but it's been rare to feel the kind of connection my soul is yearning for. It's been less and less rare, thankfully, but that isn't saying a whole lot.

I think I've grown a shit-ton, especially during this vast nadir in my life's narrative. I've come to love and accept myself a great deal, though I'm not at all done yet :) I'm more compassionate and more open; growth and attributes that I'm also proud of. I think those things help me to better find contentment wherever I am, with or without companions. This is not to say, however, that I am unresponsive or immune to loneliness, loss, or adversity. Fuck no.

I'm remember how, for so long, it's been very important to me to find a life partner. This was a desire extent and vibrant even in high school. I worry that there's something stagnant or even escapist about this central desire and the desires that radiate from it, such as those for children, hearth-space, etc. It's not, though, is it? It's me knowing myself, knowing my heart's desire. And my concept of a marriage or life-partnership has evolved and matured, and of that I am incredibly proud. I just need him to show up.

As for my son... Christ!

I think like any intentional parent, I go between wanting to completely hide him, protect him from the world, and also just love him, toss him into the water, and watch him make his way. I don't feel the need to make any decisions now about high school for him, and I presume that any advice I'll have for him will have a lot to do with the person he shows himself to be and the specific situation before him. Yay me for not being too rigid or prejudiced about that :)

That said, I'm terrified about what kind of social, sexual, and academic idioms he'll be exposed to, and how they'll affect him. Part of me still wants to strike down that heavy axe of Abstinence [chastity and sobriety], and try to keep him from sex, drugs, and rock & roll, I'll confess. I know I'll prolly encourage him to take his time and respect his own true needs and desires above anyone else's. I just hope that by the time we get to those issues, I'll be co-creating a meaningful relationship with him still and will know when to let go and when to intervene.

There's more to say, but this is all for now.

~andrea

It is raining outside right now. It rained a bit today at lunchtime, too. This morning, I woke up to grey-sky, as anticipated by the forecast. I got my bag packed for the day, Jasper and myself dressed, some oatmeal ready in a metal bowl, and the two of us out to the bus stop on time.

I dropped him off at school, then caught another bus downtown. From there, I caught another bus to Seattle's industrial district for work. Once there, I found Mr Blunt dozing, and then we started the day. It took a while to get situated, as he seems to enjoy rearranging everything while I'm away, but it was good. I introduced him to Bhangra music, which we blared over the speakers.

I mostly worked on sanding down the veneer/epoxy sheets with the orbital sander. There's a (forgive me if you know what this is formally called) pneumatic air gun, clean-up thing that I knew I was going to hate to love as soon as Mr Blunt showed it to me. I also helped him set up next set of veneer/epoxy sheets.

I then traipsed in my rain boots through the wet and gritty stretches of concrete, gravel, and railroad tracks to my bus stop, at which point I took another bus to Pioneer Square. It had one of the most entertaining bus drivers I've had in a long time. I arrived late to therapy, which seems to be par for the course.

After therapy, I walked to the bus stop in front of SAM, which a brief dalliance into the way-too-high-end shop across the street's closing sale. I saw some incredible grey leather boots, on sale for a very un-sexy $150. Oh well. I think I knew I was just looking, however optimistic. This dalliance caused me to almost miss my bus, which I nonetheless caught by running to the next stop. My rain boots, while lovely and entirely waterproof, are not conducive to running :/

Once home, I killed time waiting for Ryan to come pick me up for a hot date to the food bank. It was good to see him again; I can't remember the last time I saw him. I went into the affair rather pulled back, aloof, even. Ryan asked if I would DJ and navigate, which I reluctantly accepted. I took almost all of my extra WIC milk with us to donate at the food bank, which was weird. I felt guilty also being there for groceries, but relieved, too. It was weird having Ryan as a [6'4"] sidekick on my poverty-induced adventure. We walked back to his car/apt and ended up spending some time just sitting, basking in a little surprise sunshine, and talking a bit. I got some closure about what went on back in Feb/March earlier this year between us. And he gave me an orange :)

After I got home and put away groceries, I headed out on the mommycycle to fetch Jasper. I'm glad to have my bike, glad that the flat has been fixed (thx again btmspox), but there are still plenty of flaws/issues I'd love to have fixed. I still have to replace the tensioner on the brake cable, which has been somewhat daunting. Also, the adjustable handlebars continue to wiggle more frequently than I would like. Right now, I can just keep tightening it every other day and hopefully soon jerryrig a new spacer/washer thing. Maybe someday I'll take the advice of the bike mechanic and just get a fixed stem that I like.

In addition, Jasper continues to grow, his seat doesn't, but the need to have a better way to transport the tyke does. Third wheel might be my cheapest option (thanks maimerofhearts for the help), but I am not sure how safe, compatible with my frame, and truly quick-release it would be. As for the frame, it's a bike I was given and is better than the since-forsaken mountain bike I have. It doesn't actually fit me very well; I'd like something a little lighter and not so compact between the wheels. I'm cramped without Jasper's seat on there, nevermind with it!

But hey, the damn thing has cost me little to nothing to maintain and gets the job done. I also have no money to bandy about on anything else. The pipe dream of a scooter still echoes, but not so strongly, esp with the rain. My van, my dear Wendy, I don't know what will become of her. I'm having a hard time justifying paying her high monthly insurance, and I drive it as little as possible. I have a persistent mind-gremlin that all her workings are far more impaired than I know, something of a time bomb... ::sigh::

I'm hesitant to exhale right now. I feel mildly wary of the shift in seasons, chiefly the onset of winter. Ryan and I discussed a strategy to keep myself afloat, which gave me a little hope, but I'm just not sure how it will go this year. I don't know what's going on in terms of work or career for me right now. I enjoy my work with Mr Blunt, and with Fay on Saturdays, but it's not ultimately sustainable. I feel I lack the stamina, at least right now, to make anything else more sustainable happen. This then makes me feel like I'm a whiny, pathetic runt. Then I try to console myself that maybe this is just hard, I'm doing the damn near best I can do, and there's no need to emotionally self-harm. This, however, just sounds like more pathetic whining.

Auugghhh, fuck.

One thing I'm avoiding right now is replying to the series of "Subject: re: conflict" emails with btmspox. I know what's going on, but I've got no cartilage, no grace with which to divulge this information. In one way, it's all resolved, in another way, I feel like I have to make some unflattering-but-true offering of confession and apology. In the words of Ella Rose: "yucky, icky, ucky, yicky, pooey, blearghhh..." All in good time, I suppose.

In the meantime, I'm trying really hard...


~andrea

VoicePost 40K 0:12

“On a Windy day never park your car under a chestnut tree.” Auto-Transcribed Voice Post

I shall begin this entry with a sigh.
I would very much like to plumb the depths with this entry, but there are plenty of flowing, current things which I am likewise tempted to record.

The last day or two have been very rich, for lack of a better word, for me. Yesterday, I found out that I no longer have a job at Queen Mary. That was horrible and yet, to be honest, also quite vividly a relief. I'm struggling for money right now, esp considering the costs and so forth to be levied against me on Monday at my pre-trial hearing. While I have money saved, I've watched it erode quite steadily ever since I put Jasper in school, even though I'd had my QM job then and Clinton, however reluctantly, conceded to help with the cost.

Yesterday, a friend suggested I apply for grad school in architecture. For some reason, this idea appealed to me, despite a long time response of nausea to further schooling. Envisioning myself as a grad student and parent of a young boy... somehow I felt relief and pride in myself. I'm terrified of it and I'm trying to continue to turn the idea over with complete honesty for the next few days...

I emailed the department, requesting to speak with a person about the program and potential financial aid... I'm anxious that the email, while well-written, might come across as lazy, since I'm clearly not interested in excavating the information myself from the depths of the UW website... but honestly, I'd like to have a discussion with a faculty member if I could, to get a better idea if this is something I really want to commit to for the next three or four years.

I also have been offered some PT temporary work by two friends/community members. Saturday, I'll make my way to Fay's to begin work; gardening if the weather's not crap, as well as a variety of other tasks. Seems like there's plenty of work to be done... and none of it decidedly awful. It's also the sort of work I enjoy, being able to rescue things, fix things, organize things, having a client/employer who is flexible, reasonable, and directly benefited by my work.

Another friend, John Blunt, has offered me work in his woodworking shop. I'll meet with him Monday to start and get some initial administrative stuff figured out. Honestly, I'm pretty stoked. That would be more construction and assembly of small furniture and lighting, but I think my aesthetic input would be welcome and respected. Also... woodshop!! While he can't assure long-term work, the hours and rate he's suggested are great. The only challenge is that I might not be able to take all of them...

The latest worry is that I'll have some f*cking community service hours to fulfill in the near future. More an insult and inconvenience than anything else. I don't feel comfortable going into too much more detail about that.

Yesterday, I made a second attempt at a hug-rendezvous downtown. While the hug-ee and I were able to meet up before I headed back up the hill, it left me feeling yet another different and challenging-to-decipher feeling about this fellow and our preposition to each other. I observe this [rather annoying] inclination to come to some definitive conclusion about "what's going on". It's easy to understand, with such pressure on each of our interactions and my independent "revelations", why the conclusions can have such divergent trajectories... If not so much pressure were applied, perhaps the conclusions would be not so astronomically different and thus closer to the truth. I find myself trying to adjust my conclusions based on my perceived skewing of reality or hyper-signifying... but that just opens up a can of relativism that leaves me spinning, if not a bit nauseated.

Nonetheless, I'm warmed by something I think is specific to him, and I'd like to see more of him... I'm trying to take my time and observe and clarify my intentions in the meantime.

Are you reading this? I hope you are.

Hmmmn... Allan finished a bunch of laundry for me. Thank you so very much!! Again! I really want to get my house in order... The kitchen is nearly clear of dishes, for the first time in a long time. As is typical, I have silverware yet to do, but I actually fancy I'll finish it tmrrw.

I made another tart. This one is a bit out-there and experimental. I'm actually a tad afraid to try it. I cheated this time and used a frozen pie crust I had on hand instead of making my own. I blind baked it for fifteen minutes... or so; a little while into baking it I noticed I hadn't started the timer. One side slipped down, so I figured it was time to take it out. In went the filling and I baked it for ten minutes more. The filling? Two pears, an apple, half a bunch of green grapes, a small bunch of cilantro, ground ginger and cinnamon, zest of one lime, and agave nectar. Yup. Oh, and a dash of mace. It looks kind of funky, but not too bad. It's like a blond, green version of the traditional "mincemeat" filling. Jasper and I will likely have some for breakfast.

Tonight, Jasper and I went to the Free First Thursday at SAM with Shakti and Sam. While it was a bit hectic getting out the door and getting there... it was a bit hectic being there, too. I was mostly exhausted by the whole ordeal, I think. I was glad to get home and wash dishes. Jasper and I had missed our first bus, as we were running perpendicular to the stop, which sucked. Then we walked forever... I suppose we should've just turned back home, since there's a bus stop right by our building, but I thought we should walk further west, to increase the number of buslines we'd intersect. We ended up just two bus stops down from the one we live by. Ugh.

Tomorrow... hopefully, I'll get to bed soon and be able to start the day off properly with Jasper. He wakes up between 7 and 8am quite consistently. That reminds me of when he was first born, noting with Clinton how I was never again going to need an alarm clock.

Getting Jasper into bed tonight, we talked about the letter J at the beginning of his name, the letter I at the beginning of Idris's, and the S at the beginning of Sincere's. I love that one of Jasper's classmates, who happens to be a really sweet-without-being-dull little guy, is named Sincere. We had to talk about the letter C. I said that Clinton's name started with C... I try to talk with Jasper about the other side of his family with tenderness and frequency. Tonight, I was wondering if Clinton does the same. I have no idea if he's sweet when I come up in conversation, or if he's ever the one to bring me up. It would be nice if he is.

Jasper and I seem to have quite a few conversations about what his daddy likes or disproves of, mostly the latter. I try to be gentle and matter-of-fact. Naturally, the rules at my house are different than those at Clinton's. I can't remember the last point of difference we talked about, but I explained that Daddy doesn't like when Jasper does X and so it might be a good idea not to do it in front of Daddy... oh, it was picking his nose. My only concern is that Jasper's hands be relatively clean when he does it... otherwise, I have no reason to discourage him.

Okay. That's all for now.

~andrea

I sit here at my computer, a cup of nearly tepid licorice tea at my side. I'm tired and I should go to bed soon. Today has been a good day, on the whole, I think. I'm still feeling rather yucky. Yucky things are being said to me in my head. I'm feeling [un]characteristically unable to express myself or, rather, to allow myself to express myself.

---------> I'm going to just dump, I think. I will ramble, I warrant.

A lot of the yucky, I find, has been triggered by the date I went on this past Thursday. I think I know what happened, how I felt, but I can't seem to be able to pin it down in a recordable fashion. Also, mostly because I can't do that, I can't figure out why... It boggles my mind. And I'm very self conscious, in the end.

...Ugh. One of the lines of the yucky script in my head says that no one wants to be around me. It's not convenient to be around me, since I'm not a free radical, being poor and also a single parent in a city. Also... I'm "too sincere", "too vulnerable", "too serious", "too sad", "too moody", etc. Ew.

My good friend [I called her my best the other day when talking to another friend] had her birthday party yesterday and I was unable to attend b/c no children were allowed, for medical reasons on behalf of the hostess. I did go to a pirate party for a two year old neighbor with Jasper. That was fun, I think. I was dressed pretty hot, but felt almost entirely disconnected from everyone. Jasper got cracked out on candy and was not himself. I find myself focusing on the sad/bad parts right now, and quietly imply that there's something wrong with that.

Blargh. Today, Jasper and I got up, had a late breakfast, and then headed out for a walk. It was a gorgeous day out today. That perfect autumn weather that I remember experiencing the first year I moved to Seattle. I wore (and am still wearing) my green and magenta sun dress, with the ruby long sleeve stretchy sweater over it, and my strappy flat sandals. Jasper wore a long sleeve tee and super short olive girls shorts, and his new shoes courtesy of Dad. I had my watch and my house keys, and nothing else. I purposely left my phone behind.

Jasper and I walked up Denny. Some of the chestnut fruits had fallen, some even looted by squirrels, and Jasper and I took note of the prickly green orbs. We continued on Denny until we got to the construction site at 16th. There's an old, grand sandstone church with Easter-y stained glass windows being converted into condos. From the outside, it doesn't look like much is going one, which is good I suppose. The central front pair of doors was open. I scooped up Jasper and cautiously but deftly went in.

It's pretty darn finished in there, so I didn't feel like I was really endangering our safety. The door goes directly to some steps that have open risers, so that you can see the corridor and door below/behind them. The steps, wood planks set on steel beams, give way to a poured concrete floor with two large, knee-high boxes in the middle. I didn't inspect them, but I presume they are to let natural light into the floor below. The space was fairly large, at least two stories high, the ceiling capped with the original stained glass church cupola. This indoor courtyard is looked out onto by six (?) sets of sliding glass doors with shallow balcony on the second floor above sliding glass doors on the main floor.

The light was like being in one of the mostly underground tube stations in London. Spacious and yet capped and filtered. I thought what an interesting human experiment it will be to see how the future residents use their balconies.

Jasper and I proceeded into the unit, whose door was open, directly to our right. This goes first into the open plan kitchen. There's a stained glass window, or the bottom half of one, at the end of the room. There were stairs on the right, two sets stacked upon each other. We went up, where there's a clear glass window carved out halfway up the stairs. There were a couple rooms, a bathroom, I think. We went back down, and then down the lower set of stairs.

What a strange space this led us to! At the foot of the stairs, there was a large, semi-public feeling space to the right. To the left, a very basement-y kind of space; a long hallway with little rooms on the right, prolly for utility and the toilet, and the end of the hall, with no door or door frame, a beautiful white soaking tub against a floor-to-ceiling tiled wall. At the end there, in that "room", with the bathtub, there's a fully tiled shower stall to the left and where the vanities and mirror will be to the right.

Back to that funny public space, you go down a couple steps and into what was likely the main side entry of the church. There's some gorgeous wood paneling (cherry?) that they're preserving, blocking off the Tudor-style curved portal. I don't know if this will just be a receiving room for the private residence, or what. It was all so confusing, esp because all the natural light was filtered, and you couldn't see out! I don't know how well that will go over!

Anyhow... quite an experience! God, I want to be designing spaces for a living, or at least as one of the things I do for a living.

We walked on, took 14th north, which I don't think I've -ever- done, until we got to John. There's a great vista of the Space Needle, which Jasper didn't hesitate to point out. The Violin Maker shop is right there and I thought, what the hell. I've been wanting to check that place out, maybe they're open; and they were! We left our sticks and a block of weathered birch on the stoop and went it. I had no idea it was so vast in there! Another converted space, this one of two commercial spaces carved out of an old, modest mansion. It had a Tudor feel inside because of the wood (cherry again?) wainscoting and finishes.

Anyhow, they let us poke around. There's a ton of instruments in there. I was not expecting it at all. We also espied on them in the workshop where I essayed to teach Jasper the various parts of a stringed instrument. Just getting him to tell it was not a guitar was a big step... hrmmmn. Anyhow, before we left, one gal showed us where they kept the three basses they had. Jasper got to pluck the strings a bit. We left before our not-breaking-stuff luck ran out.

We headed north some more after that. I picked up a huge cardboard tube, diam of about 8 inches?, length some 4ft?, in a little garbage alley way. Jasper wanted someplace to sit so we walked on until we got to the street where Remedy Tea is. There were plenty of open chairs, but none in the sun, and that place is so stuffy... I didn't dare occupy their chairs without buying a $5 cup of tea.

We walked up toward Victrola, passing the barber shop, that Jasper knows for the little toy collection on the windowsills, and Rainbow Remedy, which Jasper knows for their indoor fountain. I sat down on the end chair, with my giant tube, and Jasper soon discovered he could bang on the metal coffee tables with his sticks. We actually made a decent little rhythm section, but I was incredibly wary of being hated by the people around us because of the noise we made. After a good sit, we headed back, walking through the alley behind QFC. Jasper told me it was not for people, only cars, and that we could get hit. True.

We headed back east. Jasper wanted to say hello to the "worker guys" who had sectioned off the intersection. They weren't working, but there was a Roto-Rooter truck out there... Jasper said hello to the three guys having a natter in/at the pick up truck. I again was faced with the dilemma of how coy/attractive/Puritanical I wanted to come across. We just walked on by.

Hmm... I'll just skip to the getting home part. Jasper'd taken a spill and scratched up his knees, on top of the bad scratches he scored the night before at the party. I hurried us a long because of this and the hunger pangs I was fielding. I checked the mail; my prayer flag book had finally arrived. We got upstairs and, when I tried to apply hydrogen peroxide to his owie, he made such a fuss. I resolved to just put him in the bath. Since our "bathtub" is a metal beverage bucket, I filled it and then put it in front of the kitchen window. Jasper stripped and got in.

Last night, after I'd showered, I got Jasper and put him in bed with me. We snuggled a bit and it was nice. There were a couple parts that were exceptionally nice. Once, I was on my side, curved toward him, and he was nuzzling, belly down, into his pillow, face toward me. He had a smile on his face. I whispered, "Are you smiling?" He said, "Yes"

"Why?"
"Because I'm happy"

Awww :)

I think that was when he also said, "I love you so much", which we've been able to say to each other more and more lately, quite genuinely. That's yummy.

The other point was when he was really truly snuggled up with me, using my arm as a pillow, my body curving around his. I started to cry, I was so happy :)

Okay, I think I'm satisfied recording things for now.

Good night, Neverland!

~andrea

So, I'm currently burning the Flight of the Conchords CD.

Jasper and I are getting ready to walk to the library, which should be an excursion and a half. While we were sitting down to lunch, a little while ago, there was a knock on the door.

I'd already noticed that Greg, the landlord, was here; his car [cough:lexus] was parked in the lot. It was him. He said he'd gotten an e'mail from Priya (re: the ongoing noise from my neighbor). He asked if the music had been on throughout the night. I said that I've waited until 3 or 4am to see if it would stop. He concluded that it had been. He said he'd talk to Butch. I said "Thank you".

We got sandwiches made and about a third of the way into lunch.

There was another knock on the door. It was Greg. Jasper and I had seen him talking to Butch down in the parking lot moments earlier. Butch was on his way out, already in his car, and halfway backed up. The conversation lasted for too long :/

At my door the second time, Greg had an unimpressed look on his face. He said smthg about "concessions" needing to be made... by both parties?? He wanted us, the three of us, to meet for lunch, regularly, to air all our concerns, and so forth. He asked if I could agree to this. I wasn't unanimously in favor of it, but consented. He seemed disappointed with my lack of enthusiasm. Aside: Seriously? I'm supposed to be gung-ho for this arrangement? Regular meetings of vague purpose with my uncooperative, inconsiderate neighbor and my unresponsive, gas-lighting landlord. And I don't even know if I'd have to pay for my lunch and I dursn't ask. Feck.

Right, so then I explain the sayd I'm available, Jasper's in school, but I have lunchtime appointments starting at, respectively, 12:30, 12, and 1:30. He said, how about 11? I said okay. So, this week? How about tomorrow or Thursday. He said, how about Wednesday or Thursday next week. Next week are my court dates; one Monday for the criminal pre-trial hearing, the other Thursday for the photo-enforced infraction hearing. And NOW! Tuesday at 11 I'm meeting with Butch and Greg.

Super.

~andrea

walesnightengal, your comment on Facebook, saying you didn't know I was a dancer, has haunted me. I keep answering it, every time it surfaces in my head. I came up with a most satisfactory response tonight : Yes, I'm a dancer. I have that movement in me, and I always have... not that having always had it is what validates it.

I am a beautiful, vibrant, resourceful woman. In my current circumstances, I am struggling a great deal. I think, however, that a lesser woman or man would've cracked long ago. The fact that I am struggling is an indication of how challenging the circumstances are.

On Monday, I go to a hearing to face criminal charges for domestic violence. There is some minor basis for this charge, but the fact that it has escalated to this response from the Infrastructure is incredibly surprising, if not unnerving.

Wish me luck.


~andrea

VoicePost 58K 0:16

“My internet connection has been down for going on 2 days now. If you need to get a hold of ___ please call me because I can't check emails ___ messages etc. Thanks. Bye.” Auto-Transcribed Voice Post

I may not have truly loved Jesse, who he really was. Maybe I was in love with the man that we both wanted him to be... But I was in love with him. He answered me; he accepted me and uplifted me. He promised to be with me through whatever challenges or harvests were ahead of us.

One of the most beautiful things Jesse gave me was the dream of a live/work space in which we'd host fellow artists and form a communal hub for see-and-makers. He'd had an idea to reclaim an old warehouse and divide it into studio spaces, an open access fabrication shop, use it for classes and meetings, as well as a place for our family to live. His idea seized my imagination and I quickly set about designing the place.

It was thrilling, and I came up with some of my most beautiful and innovative designs for the home portion of the complex. It was so vivid in my mind: Huge east- and west-facing windows toward the upper perimeters of the walls. A large tented glass sunroof in the middle, to be flanked by garden boxes on the roof. An elegant but industrial stairway up to the mezzanine/second floor where the private residence began. A large private studio for myself on the second floor. A gallery space on the mezzanine, accessible from my studio and a separate staircase from the ground floor. Private glass-topped or roofless studios along the edges of the main floor, under the outline of the mezzanine. A central workshop area with tables, printing presses, and other large equipment. Several-stories-tall gallery walls from which to hang large images and sculptures from the tenants. A grid shelf-wall between the dining area and the living room, with a two sided fireplace at its core, to be used to hold and display our found-object treasures we both seemed so fond of. The kitchen pod was to be in the shape of a ship, walls bowing slightly and made of some delicious warm wood, like chestnut, with rosemary and other herbs cascading down from the top. There'd be an indoor herb garden on it's roof, accessible from a small wrought iron spiral staircase. There'd also be an enchanting figurehead mermaid, I bet. The master bathroom node was in the shape of a nautilus... If only you could see how it looks in my mind!

There's so much more of it... I was delighted by his dream, happy to design it while he was so much better at initiating and then getting shit done; not that we couldn't each do both.

Jesse came in, rolled up his sleeves, and helped me in my home, jumped right in with Jasper, and was rather delicious to me. I met his family and it seemed to make sense. We would disagree; then talk. We would accommodate each other. He loved me, it seemed, and assured me that nothing was wrong, with me or with the world. Everything was right, even when it was uncomfortable, and I had permission, nay encouragement, to be all me, all the time.

But then... what was it exactly? What was the enzyme? It all began to rot, as quickly as it, the delectable fruit, had flashed it's ruddy hide at me from the tree.

It seemed to be the stress of school and incumbent-but-ever-worsening financial concerns for Jesse that shifted things. My assessment was that Jesse felt like he had to go to school to get the kind of (professional) reputation and skills he wanted and thought he needed. He felt like he had to go because his family members were encouraging him, some even offering significant financial support. But I don't think it was what the real Jesse, the Jesse right now, really wanted. It came hard for him.

I somehow became the thing that he found the most stressful and challenging. He began to treat me that way, first letting small dry insults and complaints slip, then avoiding me, emotionally withdrawing, sometimes a zombie in my presence. Surely, it was not so much me as the expectations he had built up around me, the way he thought he was supposed to act to secure my affection and dedication. He wanted me as an object, a cork to somehow plug a gaping hole in him; only I was a different shape, a different size, notably far too small. There was work that Jesse needed to do and, instead of doing it, having an open dialogue with me about it, so that we could be partners in it, our relationship was supposed to fix it. It couldn't. Especially when the very roots of our relationship--genuine intimacy and unquantifiable exchange--were drying up and retracting, before they'd even fully formed.

In a way, I feel like I shouldn't be so heartbroken by Jesse's having left me. We were, after all, only together for a meagre 3 months, the better part of which was the stressful withdrawing I've tried to describe above. It seems ridiculous to feel so bereft of something that was more dream than reality and that faded so easily and so quickly.

It is hard now to recognize that while this dream, or this incarnation of it, crumbled, I have every right to hold (and right to the pleasure of) another. I learned some things about myself and about how I see or don't see things in my partner. I couldn't have undone what happened, or somehow stopped it.

That was what was most painful, in a way, when Jesse began to more strongly break away. I tried to keep him from breaking up with me. Absurd! How could you convince someone to stay with you if they don't want to? You can't, however painful it may be.

When I wouldn't let him go, peacefully, he stole away in the night. He cleared his things out of my apartment while I was away one weekend, leaving his set of keys and a pathetic, excruciatingly brief note. It was cowardly, violating, and insensitive of him. It hurt like hell and I was enraged with grief.

But the one or two times I have seem him since, he is a beautiful selkie, still, but his eyes have lost their sparkle, at least to me. I mourn the loss of him like I'd mourn a death. Jesse, as I knew him, as I loved him, is dead. I did what I could, holding his hand through his terminal illness, but he died just the same. Jesse, as I knew him, as I loved him, wanted to die.

I see the bittersweet denouement here, that the real Jesse now has a chance to be. But I'll surmise that Jesse won't let Jesse be Jesse, at least not without some more drama under the bridge. And I'll be damned if the Jesse I loved didn't sparkle ever so much more to me than the shell of a man I last saw.


~andrea

Holy hell, it's well into July.

Jasper left on a plane with his nonna earlier today. I've had a pretty stellar first day of mommy vacation. German chocolate cake, sex, finding of keys, going to the spa, talking with my good friend Priya, and having an incredibly pleasant brunch with mom, Jasper, and Tim (who is my lover). Jasper will be gone to Texas for roughly three weeks.

I'm tired and feeling how big tomorrow will be.

Tomorrow, I am performing in front of a huge crowd: four friends. I'd love to have more, but hopefully a few extras will mushroom in at the last minute. The cost of the event is "pay what you will" and I'll be using the money for my trip to Breitenbush, in about a week, Gaia willing.

In other news, I've taken up a project of developing and designing my own tarot/oracle deck. I think I'm -this- close to finalizing my arcana. Next, the big step of drawing them all. I'm kind of excited!

This might be an effective distraction from preparing my resume and online portfolio :/ hrmmmn.

I'm feeling joy and levity. It's incredibly foreign.

How nice.

Facebook is stealing me from all of you, but I hope you don't hate me too much. Facebook has also been the reason I haven't updated and written about what's going on my life lately. I'm a little disappointed, but I think I'll be just fine. It would be nice to have a record of the transformations happening.

For instance, my horoscope from last week:

magic (ma' jik), n. 1. A mysterious event or process that seemingly refutes the known laws of science. 2. A willed transformation of one's own state of mind. 3. A surprising triumph that exceeds all expectations. 4. Something that works, though no one understands why. 5. The impossible becoming possible. 6. "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic." (Arthur C. Clarke.) 7. A quality predominant in the lives of Pisceans during the period July 1 through July 20, 2009.

I'm enjoying manifesting this :)

~andrea

Let me introduce you to: autumnthing.com!



Yay :D

VoicePost 71K 0:20

“Justin inspired me to write this song. Called Party Train. Sitting on the potty chair waiting for a Weam(?) riding on a pony train Rupee(?) it's pretty I'm sitting on the potty chair learning to poo I am riding on the potty train.” Auto-Transcribed Voice Post

Well this doesn't bode well for my site:

Important Announcement After careful consideration, Yahoo! has decided to close GeoCities later this year. You can continue enjoying your GeoCities service until then — we just wanted you to let you know about the closure as soon as possible. We'll share more details this summer. For now, please visit the help center for more information.

crap.

~andrea

 

I posted some images of my new haircut on Facebook. Most of my devoted readers are also friends on there, but just in case, I thought I'd post a picture or two here.

A little background:
I scheduled to have it cut at a place in the University District; a friend had recommended it, both for quality and price ($20 haircut!). I went and ended up with a tapered bob. I wanted more off the bottom layers, esp. in the back, and wasn't content with the sharp, blocky finish around my neck. (I wanted something more like this, I think, which you might remember from this old poll.) She came back to my hair again, only she took off more hair than I wanted in the wrong places. When I was ready to go, they didn't charge me for the cut.

I got home and became more and more mopey about it... it had a weird schwing in the back, too much body ibid, and I was -really- unhappy that the bangs I had waited so long to grow out had been cut back a couple inches. So, I took matters into my own hands. I had these new feathering scissors from the $1.50 shop and they were immensely helpful. The 'do you see below is after I fixed it... I might edit this post later with pictures of the sink full of hair to give you an idea how much work I had to do.

Cheers,

~andrea


 

I'm feeling a little lonely. I've been keeping up with your entries, but don't often feel there's much for me to say... That said, I'm wondering if anyone's still keeping up with [or interested in keeping up with] my saga. Please leave a note if you are.

~andrea

Maybe if I keep refreshing my inbox, new email will appear.

Today, my son and my sister arrived in Seattle. It'd been three weeks since I'd seen Jasper and well over three months since I'd seen my sister. It was very strange and anti-climactic to pick up Jasper at the airport. Literally picking him up and holding him was also strange. He's so big! He's talking more than he did three weeks ago.

Throughout the day today I've been checking in with myself about how I feel about being a mother [again]. I had patience and delight and playfulness for Jasper today. I had them for myself. This wasn't the case the last time I saw him. How do I care for myself so that I can continue to have those? That's the biggest question.

I'm altogether too aware that my/our circumstances are still in flux. I'm getting help, but not as much as I'd like, and all my needs are not being fully met, nor is there a sustainable (or even pseudo-sustainable) system in place to meet those needs. I'm doing my best to stay present, which looks a lot like not worrying. Because of some non-helpful voices installed in my mind, it feels guilty, wrong even, to laugh or enjoy myself now, while there is no "solution" for very real issues before me.

I'm doing the best that I can. I'm gradually learning that that -is- enough.

~andrea

I love that with all of you
you come and taste me,
delicious me.

~andrea

also this poem:

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life's longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
     which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

- Kahlil Gibran, The Prophet