An Attic View

Service Entrance

2011-10-10T18:58:00.000-07:00

I'm going to try a new approach this time. I'm going to come back to writing through the back door. I've been running away from it for a while now, either because I've had too much to say, or not enough, I'm still not quite sure. What I am sure of is that I've been paralyzed and not writing and fretting about all of the not writing.

Lately I've been trying to sit down and just do writing practice. It doesn't matter what I write about. Sometimes I pull a prompt from one of my many writing books, sometimes I sit down with something of my own in mind. Either way, I meander all over the place, drop one thread, pick another one up, and I'm mostly up in the ether, rather than down on the earth, in the world. I'm having a hard time with concrete detail these days.

As I'm sitting down to do these short stints, I'm trying not to worry about what I'm writing so much as the fact that I'm doing it. Yes, I would love to be able to pull a line, a phrase, a page from a notebook and turn it into something worth showing someone else, but if I think too hard about doing that right now I'll end up paralyzing myself again and running away from the page, so right now I'm concentrating on the basics. I'm watching my hand move across the page and watching my brain as it navigates through the time I've set myself and the topic I've chosen.

Sometimes I feel an old spark and can see things taking off. Sometimes I even let them take off a bit, let myself keep going after the timer has shrieked at me and I've silenced it. Not too much yet, though, because I still worry about running out of steam, so usually I put the pen down and step away from what I was doing.

Down the road I'll go back through these pages and see what things look like when the ink has fully dried and I have some distance from the tentative explorations through the service entrance of my writer's life. Will I find artichoke hearts or pickled pigs' feet? Who knows, right now, stocking the shelves is the bit I need to concentrate on. Later I can figure out how to work with the ingredients I've amassed and figure out how to turn them all into a banquet (how's that for a mixed metaphor?).

There's Nothing Wrong With Me, Why Do You Ask?

2011-03-21T17:02:00.000-07:00

I started off this morning thinking about why it's so hard for me to accept a compliment, or even to believe it when someone says anything positive that involves me in any way. It's ridiculous that, at nearly 41, I automatically doubt these things when they come from others. So I spent a lot of time today thinking about why that was, and I think I may have a handle on it.

I have spent my entire life being told, directly or indirectly that there is something wrong with me. I have ektrodactyly, which for me translates as four fingers on each hand, three toes on each foot. Thing is, it's not who I am. There are very few things I want to do that I can't do because of it (okay, I can't get safety caps off prescription bottles, fair enough, but now they don't put them on in the first place -- problem solved). I write, I knit, I screw things into walls on occasion, and I do all sorts of other things that I and others manage to enjoy quite a bit. So do a lot of other people. Thing is, when I do these things, it's somehow a major accomplishment in the eyes of some, and that drives me completely insane!

I love my family and friends, truly, but I love some more than others. The ones I love the most are the ones I've never had to forgive even a little bit for treating me differently. The ones who have never used the words "birth defect" or "disability" or "handicap" in reference to me outside of a very specific conversation about my hands. The ones who haven't done a double-take when meeting me for the first time, haven't paused a beat or two before taking my hand when I've offered it to shake, haven't assumed that other, less-enlightened individuals than themselves may have a problem with my hands (though they don't, of course). Yes, I know it's strange (I look at photos of myself and get some sense of how things must look to you), or at least different, but the moment it's pointed out, it's also implicitly made "wrong."

When I am on my own, doing my own thing, I don't feel like there's anything wrong with me. I can do what I need to do. I've figured out how to live my life with what I've got (what other choice is there?), but it doesn't make me noble or special or any more amazing than anyone else. What it makes me is independent and capable in my own right, just like any of you. Telling me you are amazed that I knit doesn't make me feel good, it makes me feel like a specimen.

The fact that I "manage" as well as I do, that I'm not afraid to use my hands in conversation, that I go out in public in sandals in the summer and live the same damned life as anyone else I know should not be a surprise to anyone. If it is, then something is "wrong" with me, and I'm tired of living under the supposition that there's something for which I and everyone else in my life need to be compensating. Because, for once, I'd like to be able to accept a compliment without question. I don't think that's too much to ask, do you?

Loosening My Grip

2011-02-16T17:37:00.000-08:00

I've come to a few decisions over the past couple of days, and they all boil down to release. I need to try to let go of all of these things I keep worrying about, because in most cases I have no control over them anyway. I can't say I won't think about them at all, but I need to step back from them, because if I don't I'll only make myself crazy and that won't be good for anyone.

So, my friend going through a string of bad days -- I can keep thinking about him and hoping that things let up for him and his situation soon, but I can't keep constantly wondering if things are okay. Eventually there will be a turning point and he'll feel better and I hope it's sooner rather than later, but my worrying about it won't make it come any faster.

The complicated feelings/situation/guy -- They'll all resolve themselves one way or the other eventually. My feelings won't be any less complicated, but I can take a few steps back from them and recognize that turning them over and over like a magpie with something shiny won't make them any less confusing or complicated. All there is for this is time.

My new physical state -- I'm beginning to re-introduce formerly forbidden foods into my diet. It is a conscious choice that will inevitably lead to weight gain. I don't need to be a certain size for things to work our for me, and if I did, then the things probably wouldn't be what I'd truly want or need anyway.

The only new wrinkle in this whole plan is that (with some convincing from my sister) I've decided to take another stab at the meeting-someone-online approach. I don't have much confidence that it will work, and I'm honestly still far more interested in the complicated situation, but I need to do something to open my life up a little bit beyond the matters that have been consuming so much of my mental energy lately. If that means composing emails to people I may or may not want to sit across a table from down the road, then so be it. For now, at least.

The ultimate goal is just a bit more calm at the present moment. Some breathing space between the what-ifs I carry around with me every day. The possibility of things that will make me smile. Doesn't that sound nice?

Maelstrom: Interior

2011-02-14T16:25:00.000-08:00

First, Happy Valentine's Day. I hope you are surrounded by love today, whether that means hearts and flowers and a fancy meal, or something more quiet and solitary. I took a walk out into the unseasonably warm day and bought myself my first hot chocolate in over a month at lunch and this evening I put my kitchen to rights and had a very simple dinner. Even though I am single, and uneasily so (which I hate admitting over and over again, but there it is), I am not thrown by being alone on Valentine's Day. The day comes with such unreasonable expectations and things can just get downright weird if the two halves of a couple aren't in sync (like the year I cooked a lovely dinner and chocolate cake for my boyfriend... and he brought me porn; amazingly we were together for several more years after that); in some ways it's more relaxing to simply spend it on my own.

Meanwhile, my life is still in upheaval, at least inside my head. I'm trying to work through complicated feelings about a complicated situation with a complicated guy, and it means I spend plenty of time with my mind awhirl, especially since I don't feel like discussing the particulars with anyone, with the possible exception of Mr. Complicated himself, and that's not even possible. Nothing about it is easy, and I think about whether the lack of ease should tell me something, except that I'm too drawn in to simply walk away. Of course, for all I know, that could be exactly what he'd say if we ever got around to talking about it again.

I have a terrible habit of building scenarios in my head about things over which I have no control. They rarely have things falling to the good in my favor, because I walk around worrying about what I may have done or said wrong to screw things up. I hate that I still do this and if I could figure out a way to stop it I certainly would.

Oddly enough, another source of upheaval at the moment is the 15 pounds I've lost in the past five weeks. I'm probably thinner than I've been in a decade, and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself, or how to feel about it. I'm not a dieter, and I try not to put too much emphasis on weight, though I work with a lot of people who do. I've never really been heavy, and it's not a metric by which I judge people, but that doesn't mean I am free of body issues. This change in my physical makeup has me all ferhoodled at the moment, because I don't expect to maintain it, and yet there's some small voice in my head telling me that maybe I should, that maybe I'd be better able to find whatever it is I'm looking for (what is that, exactly? Haven't a clue) if I worked at keeping myself this thin for the long haul. I hate that voice, because it plays into all of the negative issues and stereotypes that come with being a woman in this society; all of the things I want to avoid and rise above.

I need a new outlook, a way to seek shelter from this storm in my psyche. I'm not sure where to find it, though, while I am so intent on clinging to things that put me in a spin and keep me off-kilter. I don't feel free and secure enough to let go of complications, just in case they might lead to exactly the right thing (even though rationally it seems unlikely).

So the maelstrom continues to whirl and I continue to bob along inside it, because that's what I've come to expect of my life. Should I cultivate new expectations? Probably. Will I? I can hope, but I remain unconvinced.

An Urge to Comfort

2011-02-07T17:15:00.000-08:00

I don't usually think of myself as particularly comforting or warm, though it's not because I don't want to be. I just have this habit of keeping the people in my life at arm's length and have never quite figured out how to get around it; I have a hard time opening up to people when I'm speaking (which is probably why blogs, letters, and all other forms of written communication are so dear to me -- it's communication at a remove); I'm not particularly maternal, I spent five years with a partner who had young children who we had every weekend, and though I loved them and did my best to care for them and protect them, we never really bonded.

All that said, I do find that there are times when a switch somewhere inside is flipped by the knowledge that someone I care about is hurting, and suddenly all I can think of is what to do to provide comfort and care. I'm in a space like that right now. A friend is going through a difficult time right now, and that urge is strong. Of course, due to any number of complicating factors (there are always complicating factors, aren't there?), I can't physically do anything about it. So as much as I'd like to, I can't hold his hand and tell him that somehow he'll get through to the other side. I've told him that I'm here and that I'm thinking about him and hoping that he can do what he needs to do to take care of himself in the midst of it, and for now, that's all I can do.

Hopefully the urge to comfort will be enough to provide some level of comfort in itself and that the patience to know that he knows and that it's enough will stay with me as long as possible. It's difficult to not be able to do something, but I know that right now just holding that thought of comfort is something, or at least I hope it is.

These moments of intense need to shield others from pain or hurt give me hope, somehow, that maybe I won't always keep people at a distance, that I do have the capacity to connect at something more than a surface level. It may be an odd way of looking at things, but I'm back to working with what I have in front of me.

Panicstricken

2011-02-05T19:12:00.000-08:00

I woke up at 6 am this morning with my heart banging against my chest so hard that I almost felt sure it wouldn't stay put for good. It was the worst panic attack I've had in a while, but I knew what it was, and was able to get myself calmed down after about an hour and find my way back to some much-needed sleep. The feeling stayed with me to some degree for most of the day, which is awkward and unnerving, so say the least. Luckily, since it was Saturday, I could start my day slowly and choose how to spend it.

Today's anti-anxiety solution was two movies at the bargain theater, spicy Thai food, and a thrifted sweater. They all helped, but it wasn't until I got home and took slight action around one of the probable causes of the panic that I started to truly feel better. I've been stressed out all around lately, so there were all sorts of things pushing me to what happened this morning, but hopefully I've made a choice that will, at least temporarily, keep one of them at bay. It's not the solution I should choose to make it go away once and for all, because I don't know that I want that to happen, no matter how stressful it is at this moment. Also, if I chose to do something for good right now, today, what I would do would be driven by stress and anxiety and the outcome would not be one anyone involved would be happy with for several reasons.

I know. I'm being intentionally and maddeningly vague, but at the moment it's all I can handle. Until I can figure out what to do, or until it resolves itself on its own, this particular thing will have to stay vague, and I'm good with that. If my solution doesn't keep the panic at bay, I'll have to rethink, of course.

What was my point? I desperately wish I knew. I think it was mostly to remind myself that I can get through panic and anxiety to something close to calm if I work at it a little bit and to stay strong in my resolve to stick to my decision on that one crazy-making thing, because it is an action all too easily reversed. If that happens too soon (I say "too soon," because I know it'll happen eventually -- I'm not that healthy), I'm right back to where I started, and I don't want a repeat of this morning anytime soon.

Brigid Poetry Festival

2011-02-02T04:09:00.000-08:00

It's time, at the hinge of winter, for the Sixth Annual Brigid Poetry Festival. My contribution this year is "Things" by Jane Kenyon from The Boat of Quiet Hours:

Things

The hen flings a single pebble aside
with her yellow reptilian foot.
Never in eternity the same sound --
a small stone falling on a red leaf.

The juncture of twig and branch,
scarred with lichen, is a gate
we might enter, singing.

The mouse pulls batting
from a hundred-year-old quilt.
She chewed a hole in a blue star
to get it, and now she thrives....
Now is her time to thrive.

Things: simply lasting, then
failing to last: water, a blue heron's
eye, and the light passing
between them: into light all things
must fall, glad at last to have fallen.

Cabin Fever

2011-02-01T16:03:00.000-08:00

We've hit the mid-point of winter and I've had enough. Weekly storms have disrupted my work schedule and cold weather has made me not want to leave the house.

I'm halfway through a program at a local yoga studio and am struggling with that as well. Turns out I don't really like being told what I can and can not do, what I can and can not eat, and when I should be getting up and going to bed. It hasn't been all bad, at all. I'm eating much healthier and have (with one bad day) kept within the dietary guidelines and restrictions, I've lost a few pounds, and I have seen some progress in my yoga practice, though I haven't been practicing as consistently as the program suggests, because old knee issues have resurfaced.

I finally reached out to a former freelance editor, who gave me an assignment, and suddenly I'm paralyzed by the possibility of screwing it up, even though it's a short, simple piece with sources already in place. I'd like to find some well of confidence, but I'm not sure where to look. I'm out of the habit of saying "yes" to opportunities and knowing that I can take them on.

I'm chafing at my full-time job for no good reason besides being restless and bored, though not for lack of things to be done. I want to get out and GO somewhere, but don't feel as though I can take the time to do that right now. I feel locked in place and that makes me anxious.

I'm still going back and forth about being single. Some days I'm fine with it, some days I'm ridiculously needy. I went back to yoga last night for the first time in two weeks, despite my knee, partially because I was pretty sure that at some point someone would touch me. I could probably go back (again again) to my most recent ex-boyfriend without too much persuasion (he keeps popping up to ask what I'm doing or if we can get together), but I have no desire to do that. I want to move forward -- whatever forward looks like -- not backward. Of course, that also means that the volume of email back-and-forth with my ex-husband should also decrease substantially.

I think what I'm missing most is companionship and I'm just not getting that from Facebook and Twitter, no matter how much I post, comment, or reply. I have good friendships that have developed in both places, but it's not the same as sitting and having a conversation with someone face-to-face. I had two nice visits with friends this weekend that brought home just how vital live interaction is to my well-being.

I'm not sure where all of this leaves me. Mid-winter blues, I suppose, on a stormy night in my little house by myself. Things could be far, far worse and there are bits and pieces on the horizon to look forward to, so I'd imagine it'll all work itself out right, and sooner or later the giant piles of snow will melt and the sun will spend more time in the sky and I'll figure out where that well of confidence has been hiding all this time.

Reverb10 Fail... Moving On, On My Own

2011-01-12T18:40:00.000-08:00

I should have known I wouldn't sustain that exercise, I live inside my own head far too much as it is, and I've never been good at following guided journal questions. I'd much rather imagine my own possibilities, I suppose.

On to the new, then, right?

New year, new semester at work, new exercise and diet regimen thanks to a program at a local yoga studio, newly furnished house thanks to my sister's decision (again) to get rid of everything and move on. I have split-seconds when I envy her that ability, but I come to my senses.

Thing that's not new? Feeling alone in this life. Not just unpartnered, though that's part of it, certainly. Just alone. I don't really know how to make deep connections with people for some reason, which means that when I'm alone, I stay that way. I have a hard time picking up a phone just to chat with someone, because I feel certain that whenever I call will end up being a bad time.

I find it difficult to make friends as an adult, because everything is so much more complex. There are so many more layers to mine, things to worry about. Just connecting with someone isn't necessarily enough, because all sorts of other things get in the way: Could this be a potential mate? If so, is there actual interest in that direction? If not, how many other obstacles could possibly get in the way of simple friendship?

Granted, I wasn't all that great at it as a kid either, because no one really wanted to be known as the friend of the weird kid in grade school, and by high school I had learned to be way too good at blending in, just at the time when weird was what you wanted to strive for.

Timing never has been my strong suit; I have proven that over and over in my life, and it's still holding pretty darned true right up to the present.

So yes, alone, and now with even more empty chairs to remind me of that every day. I'm trying to -- er -- sit with it and be all right with it, but that never works as well as I hope it will, and any mature stance I take on it manages to crumble almost immediately upon its declaration to anyone but myself (and sometimes even to myself).

I don't want to be someone that NEEDS someone else all of the time, every single minute of the day. That said, it'd be nice to have someone from time to time, for any number of mundane and interesting reasons. Thing is, at present, no one's even interested in the time-to-time option. It's one thing to get comfortable with being alone when you know you have other options; it's more difficult when the question doesn't even come up.

If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

Yes, I know this is a theme, but it's also where I am at the moment. Where I am is what I have to work with. "Write what you know," etc.

Reverb 10 #4 - #6

2010-12-16T14:29:00.000-08:00

(So much for dailiness)

December 4 -- Wonder. How did you cultivate a sense of wonder in your life this year?

My sense of wonder is sparked by watching creative people do their thing. I've started going out to see live music more again this year and I am always truly amazed by what musicians can create with voices and instruments and talent. Watching other creative people has helped me start thinking more about my own pursuits, though delving into them in any real way may still be an "if" rather than a "when."

December 5 -- Let Go. What (or whom) did you let go of this year? Why?

In May, I let go of a relationship that had run its course, again. We had been together for nearly three years and it had become evident a while before that living together wasn't actually making us any closer, if anything it only highlighted the differences in our personalities and interests. Throw in a disruptive addiction and my decision to buy a house and the fate of the relationship was well and truly sealed.

This was the second time around for us, we'd been together for nearly three years in the late 90s/00s and it hadn't worked out then either. Unfortunately, I am the queen of the doomed relationship, which is why we ended up trying it again and hanging in there for as long as we did. This ending was mostly painless (probably because of the dress rehearsal) and we are still friends (and have probably always made better friends than partners), but we are also both still single, so there's an awkwardness to our interactions that will linger for a while, I'm afraid.

December 6 -- Make. What was the last thing you made? What materials did you use? Is there something you want to make, but you need to clear some time for it?

The last thing I finished was a beanie knit from two colors of silk/wool blend yarn. I love it, it fits just the way I wanted it to and the sheen of the yarn is simply lovely. I always have a list of projects. There are tons of things I want to knit, pieces I want to write, photos I want to take. I'm terrible at clearing the time for them, because I am usually afraid I'm not going to be happy with the end project. So I may as well use the time to look at things other people have made instead. It's a terrible cop-out, and I am trying to get out from under that mentality, but it's taking a while, because it's been growing for far too long.

Reverb 10 #3

2010-12-03T19:01:00.000-08:00

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors). (Author: Ali Edwards)

I've been thinking about this all day, and the moment I keep coming back to is the one when I emerged onto 8th Avenue from Penn Station on my birthday trip to New York City in July. It was the first time I'd gone to New York on my own, and the first time I'd gone for more than a day in several years. It was one of the hottest days of the summer, the sun was shining brilliantly and it was just after 10 am (I'd walked to the train station in Lancaster fairly early that morning). There was the usual throng of people outside of Penn Station, waiting for buses, trying to figure out which way they needed to go, who knows. For once, I wasn't one of the confused. I came up the stairs, out the doors, and immediately turned right and pointed myself in the general direction of Union Square Park and the Green Market. I ducked briefly into a doorway and took a quick peek at my map to be sure of exactly how to get there, then threw myself into the flow of Saturday morning Manhattan pedestrian traffic.

This may not seem like such an extraordinary moment for most people, but that fact that I was where I was, on my own, confident in where I was going and what I was doing was a huge turning point for me. It was a release of a level of anxiety I wasn't sure would ever recede, and an expansion of life after six-and-a-half years of contraction, during which my life seemed to get smaller and more confined with every turn.

The four days I spent in New York (all but I few hours of which I spent with no one I knew) were a reminder that I have the whole wide world in front of me, and that I need not let it be taken away by myself or anyone else. That reminder began to gel the moment I stepped out into the July humidity that first moment.

Reverb 10 (#1 and #2)

2010-12-02T19:18:00.000-08:00

I'm playing follow-the-leader with PoMo Golightly and Tea Leaves in deciding to give Reverb 10 a try. One prompt a day for the month of December, reflecting back on the year just past and looking forward to what could be in the year ahead. And, as a bonus, it could get me blogging daily.

December 1 – One Word. Encapsulate the year 2010 in one word. Explain why you’re choosing that word. Now, imagine it’s one year from today, what would you like the word to be that captures 2011 for you? (Author: Gwen Bell)

The word for 2010 is, without a doubt, "change." Since January of this year I have: started a full-time job at a bank (ugh!), bought a house, moved, ended a relationship, attended the funeral of a college friend, celebrated a milestone birthday, conquered my NYC anxiety, left the bank job for my old art college job, had my freelance outlets die on the vine, returned to meditation (and, to a lesser extent, yoga), and become friends with my ex-husband. Well, those were the major things, anyway. It has been a year during which I have honestly never been quite sure what was waiting around the next corner or at the end of any given day.

The changes have been a blend of good and bad, and most of them have had significant lessons attached to them. I've tried to ride all of them out with as much equanimity as I could muster, but, I have to admit, it hasn't always been easy. It certainly won't be a year I'll forget too quickly.

As for 2011, I'd love for the word this time next year to be "equilibrium." I don't want to be static, by any means, but I want to be at a point at which I feel as though I can handle what is coming at me with grace. I want to not be upended by each new thing, good, bad, or indifferent. I have to believe that this is not too much to ask.

December 2 – Writing. What do you do each day that doesn’t contribute to your writing — and can you eliminate it? (Author: Leo Babauta)

Most of what I do each day doesn't contribute to my writing. I find practically any excuse to put it off, or to shelve it altogether, because part of me is convinced that it doesn't have enough value to bother doing. I know that's not true, and if I would work consistently at writing, rather than frittering my time away with things that have even less value, I would see the truth of it more clearly and devote more time and energy to producing work and putting it out for more than just my own eyes.

Forty is the New Fifteen

2010-11-30T19:25:00.000-08:00

Of course, that's only because I'm just getting over one of those terrible, wonderful crushes that I, at least, associate with high school and cheesy teen romance. I was astounded to be hit with something like that now, when I'm allegedly supposed to be a real and true adult with a mortgage and a job with actual responsibility, but hit I was. Now that it's (mostly) run its course, I'm trying to look a bit more objectively at my singleness to see what, if anything, I want to do about it.

I don't mind being single. This time it's been nearly seven months, and that's seven months truly single, no backsliding with a convenient ex, not even any dating. Nothing but the one intense crush that seemed, for a month or so, fraught with potential. I am a woman who likes having my space. I like living on my own: I come home to things the way I left them, I make up my own schedule and I cook or don't cook and unpack or don't unpack as the mood hits me. Of course, this leaves me with a spare room full of boxes, Raisin Bran for dinner two nights in a row, and way too much consumption of Netflix.

There are times when I miss having someone to bounce the events of the day off of, especially when I've had one like today. When my feet are cold (even in wool socks), there's no one around to help warm them up. And every once in a while it'd be nice to go to a reading, lecture, or music performance with someone else.

The problem is, I have no idea how to go about getting out there. I've never really dated in the broad sense of the term. Everyone I've ever been involved with I've known in another capacity before we began a relationship. I've looked at the possibility of online dating sites -- I know people for whom it has worked out beautifully -- but it just doesn't feel like the right way to find someone. I go out for a drink occasionally and have ended up striking up conversations, but it takes a lot of effort to get there, because I'm shy and not very good at stepping up. I'm also not entirely sure I want to meet someone in a bar.

For now, I'm not really looking that hard, and I probably won't change that anytime soon. I'll try to get better at mixing and conversing when I'm at social events, but unless someone comes along and sweeps me off my feet (or that crush finally wakes up and sees what he's been missing), I'll keep toddling along in my own little single world until I'm comfortable enough with myself there not to care whether anyone else comes along at all.

Sitting

2010-11-28T19:18:00.000-08:00

Right now I'm sitting on an old wooden kitchen chair in the no-man's-land between my living room and dining room portions of the main room of my first floor. I also happen to be in front of an antique mirror that used to hang on my grandmother's wall, so every time I look up from the screen I see myself, which is admittedly odd. Sitting here, now, I am trying to unravel the effects of sitting more formally earlier.

The past couple of months have found me returning to the local Zen meditation group, which meets every Sunday night in the basement of the Unitarian church in town. I have attended this group on and off for years, but the last time I stopped it was for much longer than before. I get something out of sitting with this group, even though I'm not entirely sure I'd absolutely call myself Buddhist, but sometimes I get too close to things I'd rather not examine and I find myself running. I want to get past that.

Sometimes when I sit I can tune into my breath and fall into whatever space it seems meditation should tip you into at least for a few minutes at a time. Most often, though, all I really discover is just how noisy my brain really is and how much energy I devote to thinking about mundane and trivial matters.

Tonight I found that I had to sit with my eyes open -- I usually prefer to close them for the bulk of the sitting period -- because every time I closed them I found myself welling up and stifling sobs. I couldn't put my finger on any one source of upset, and as long as I kept my eyes open it wasn't a problem. My best guess is that I need to take a look at the ongoing sources of stress and anxiety in my life and try to figure out how to resolve them.

The anxiety I feel when I look up and catch a glimpse of my 40-year-old self in the mirror has less to do with being 40 and more to do with still trying to figure out how I've managed to disappear into myself and what I need to do to break the surface again. Sitting with the questions, formally and informally seems to be one way to get there.

I've Grown Accustomed to My Space

2010-05-08T16:23:00.000-07:00

Well, I'm beginning to, at any rate.

I haven't done tons of unpacking this week, but I've spent a lot of time in my house, just getting used to being there, listening to neighborhood and house sounds, and learning to sleep in a new bedroom. I am happy there, of that there is no question. Even with practically no furniture, and 75% of my belongings still in boxes, I know it's where I want to be.

I start my days listening to Morning Edition and watering my plants in the postage stamp backyard. I have onions, cardinal climbers, and (as of this afternoon) rosemary. If there are hummingbirds in the city, they may well make their way to my backyard later in the summer -- here's hoping, anyway!

I'm slowly meeting people in my neighborhood, and, thus far, to a person, everyone has talked about how much they love the area. I knew going in that it would be a good place, but it's nice to have it validated by people who already live there.

Next weekend is a furniture auction, which is financially daunting, but has the potential of getting me a few heirloom quality pieces, all by the same maker, which will cut down significantly on any running around to secondhand stores looking for things that may not stand the test of time.

I have tons of ideas of what I eventually want to do to/with this place (my house!), but I need to rein myself in and just live with it as is for a while until I can get a better sense of what really needs to happen in each part of the house. I've only been sleeping there for ten days -- not nearly long enough to get a true sense of how I'll use the space for the long haul.

So, that's where I am at the moment. Still visiting cafes for internet access, still unpacking, still trying to remember that change is never ending, and a positive part of life, no matter how it feels in the moment.

So, I Have This House...

2010-05-01T08:32:00.000-07:00

I've been busy for the last little while, and the result of that busy-ness is that I now own a house! I know, nearly 40 and just getting around to buying real estate. Most of my stuff is there now and I've slept there for three nights, but I am so far from being settled in it's ridiculous.

I'm looking forward to having a space that's really and truly mine. I already chose colors for two rooms and got them painted before I moved in, and even that was really cool. I got to decide, for the first time ever, what colors I wanted walls to be. Here is what I chose, if you're interested:

Moss Print, for the bedroom

Clear Pond and Perfectly Taupe for the kitchen.

The rest of the rooms were white or cream when I bought the house, so I've left them for the time being.

The prospect of home ownership is daunting and thrilling in equal measures. I already have a list of things I'd like to do, even though I absolutely know that I'll need to wait for most of them. My house is sparsely furnished, at best, because I've been living in shared or small rentals for over a decade, and either didn't need or didn't have room for full-scale furniture. Now that has changed, and I'll have to start looking for decent used furniture that will work for the space and for me. I'm leaning toward trying to find things that fit with the age of the house (built in 1900).

Vitals? It's a 1035 s.f. two-story three bedroom row house on a quiet Lancaster street. It only adds about five minutes to my walking commute downtown. There's a decent-sized front porch and a postage-stamp back yard, both of which I look forward to using.

My next adventure! Meanwhile, I'll be going to MD Sheep & Wool for the first time in a few years. Maybe I'll see you there!

Why I Won't Retire

2009-10-25T18:26:00.000-07:00

At this point in my life, I earn my primary income as a temp. I don't mind it, I have chosen this employment path for myself. Thing is, sometimes doing it burns me out.

Nearly two weeks ago, I finished just under four months at a bank -- two consecutive assignments within the same division, but different departments -- and it was okay while I was there, not great, but not terrible. I got a call last week from the agency letting me know that the same bank, same division wanted me back again through the end of the year. I'd only been out for four days at that point (I would have started again this past Monday), and had taken a nasty spill on my walk to work on my last day, so I told the rep I couldn't start again right away because I wanted my hand to heal first.

The hand needing to heal was valid (it's still somewhat sore nearly two weeks out), but the rest of the truth is that I need time to recuperate from corporate culture and all it entails. I am not a corporate girl, and probably never will be. Granted, I didn't have to attend monthly departmental staff meetings or any of the compulsory corporate trainings as a temp, but being in the environment, in the cubicle, even when working with people I genuinely liked, sapped my energy, and it still hasn't fully returned.

So, the retirement thing that so many people look toward? Probably not going to happen for me. I work more than I don't, and I save as much as I can when I am working, because I know that every so often I'll need to back off and regenerate all over again.

I know there are plenty of people who absolutely cannot comprehend the choice to live and work this way, and at times I am even one of them; however, I can't comprehend being one of the millions, stuck forever (or seemingly so) in a grey cubicle under fluorescent lights for the next 20 - 25 years, so I guess I'll take my retirement in small chunks along the way, rather than all at once later on.

Rollercoaster

2009-09-20T19:11:00.000-07:00

Emotional one, that is. Today has been a doozy, and I can only guess as to why.

This morning was fine. I had a late breakfast at Chestnut Hill Cafe, wrote in my journal a bit, had a nice conversation with a couple I used to see often when we all went to Dosie Dough on Lemon Street before it changed hands. Nice.

I saw Julie & Julia this afternoon. I loved it, it made me cry, of course. I nearly always cry at movies that are even the least bit touching. I rarely cry in real life anymore, which may be why I am watching more movies lately.

When I came home, I had a conversation with a friend that brought things up. Some old, some new, and I found myself in tears again. Since the conversation was via chat, sobbing didn't actually impede conversation. I hold too tightly to things that made me happy once, even if they are no longer relevant to my life. That was part of it. The other part was what comes next for me.

I have been working at a temp assignment since the beginning of August. In day-to-day dealings, I like the people I work with, but am not crazy about the work, and am not crazy about corporate work in general. I may be offered the position I have been filling this week, and even though I'm pretty sure I don't want it and know that it would drive me crazy if I took it, I begin to second-guess my gut instinct at the prospect of benefits and full-time work, especially in the midst of an uncertain economy. The conversation turned to this dilemma. My friend had my best interests at heart when encouraging me to take it, but I pushed back, because it doesn't feel right, and I don't want to take another full-time job, only to find myself miserable enough to leave it in a year or less. I don't want to disappoint people, but it feels as though it'll happen no matter what, sooner or later.

After that plunge, I took a walk in the fall afternoon, ate a juicy Asian pear, and came home feeling better. Then I knocked a jug of maple syrup with a loose cap (didn't know it) off a refrigerator shelf and had to clean up a sticky puddle.

It just goes on and on. Up-down-up-down. Some days are like this, I suppose, but I haven't had one quite this rocky for a while. I'm obviously on a transition point, one way or another, and it's clearly throwing me off-balance. I'm hoping I can breathe through it and come out the other side without major public embarrassment.

After today, the work week should be smooth sailing.

What I Noticed on My Walk Home

2009-08-18T14:37:00.000-07:00

Before I left work today, I decided I wanted to pay a bit more attention to my surroundings as I walked across town toward home, then make note of what I picked up on here. Often, at the end of the day, all I really focus on is the being home, rather then the getting there, which defeats the purpose of a pedestrian commute, somehow.

Here are the few things that stood out for me today:

1. I forgot to roll the cuffs of my pants up when I changed shoes. The pants I wore today were a bit long for the flat sandals I wear to walk to and from. I didn't notice that they weren't cuffed until I was out of the building, so I was definitely more careful in the way I walked, to avoid stepping on -- or getting caught up in -- my pant legs. I also avoided walking down the middle of Grant Street past Central Market, since the pavers are loose and apt to squirt stale water when stepped on.

2. A woman coming out of Carmen & David's with a tiny tasting cone of something undoubtably delicious. I've seen this same woman order one of these before. The cone is only an inch or two tall, with a little, proportional scoop on top. It would be a good way to rationalize having ice cream more than once a week, but there's something about my Saturday ice cream ritual, and the regular small cone that lasts almost all the way home that I cherish.

3. The lush, overflowing planters lining the stoops and windows along Gallery Row. Round, square and rectangular planters overflowing with green, red, and variegated leafy plants, and tons of blooms, mostly red. I'm terrible at identifying plants, though I think I saw a geranium in one of them. They are maintained very well and looked so lush and healthy even in the heat and humidity of late afternoon.

4. A stylish woman waiting in very high heels. I only saw her in profile, and I'm guessing she was waiting for a car, rather than a bus, because of where she was standing. She was impeccably dressed and didn't look bothered by the heat, and carried off the tall, narrow heels with grace, something I have never managed to do.

5. The fact that I can't write while walking. As I crossed the first of three parking lots, I took my little notebook and a pen out of my bag to jot some of these things down, because sometimes things just don't lodge firmly in my memory. As soon as I opened the notebook and thought about uncapping the pen, I realized that I wouldn't be able to write and walk at the same time. It does seem odd that I can knit and walk but not write and walk, but I think it is because the activities of the two hands would be so different when writing than they are when knitting. I just carried the pen and notebook in my left hand the rest of the way home.

6. Half a dozen (give or take) little brown birds pecking under, then flying from, the hedges between Water Street and Kelly Michener. I'm guessing they were sparrows, pecking and scratching in the dust beneath the hedges until I got close, then wheeling up as a group to perch in the tree branches overhead while I passed.

7. A fresh drift of auto glass in the Kelly Michener lot. It seems like there is a fresh one every couple of weeks, which then gets dispersed by car tires into the surface cracks in the asphalt across the surface of the lot. Remind me never to park there, or to contemplate walking it barefoot -- there are also frequently shards of broken beer bottles scattered around.

8. An adjustable lamp in the window of Odyssey Salon. Nothing terribly special about it, just brushed aluminum with a swing arm, but it was on, or just below, the windowsill and caught my eye as I passed on my way through parking lot #3.

9. Small, bright sunflowers leaning toward the parking lot just off Mulberry street. These were at the far end of lot #3, and were very cheery and bright and leaning away from the fence they were planted against and into the parking lot, as if to say, "Hi! Notice us!"

10. Mostly clear sidewalk washing water running down the gutter along Mulberry Street. Apparently the sidewalk (between two houses) wasn't very dirty, because the water seemed awfully clear. I'd expected it to be from a car being washed (except for the lack of suds), because that happens frequently at roughly the same spot.

11. Around the corner/down the street neighbors waving from their front porch. I don't even know their names, but they were regulars at Dosie Dough, and I see them frequently on my walks through the neighborhood and we always say hello or wave (I was across the street today).

12. The insistent din of cicadas in the trees on my block. I didn't hear them at all until I got under the trees on the other side of the alley which bisects our side of the block, then, wham, all at once. I can hear them outside my window now, over the drone of the fan.

Wow, a lot more than I would have guessed, somehow, though probably not much for a 20 - 25 minute walk. Glad I carried out the exercise, though.

That Haunted Feeling

2009-07-25T16:48:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those days when you wake up all twisted and clenched inside and can't quite figure out why? That was me today. I have bouts of anxiety, I know this, I deal with it, and get on with things, usually.

Today was worse than it has been in a long time, and I'm not entirely sure why. Could be that I'm trying to decide whether to go on a big expensive trip, but I've been mulling that for a month or two. Could be because I have a pre-milestone birthday tomorrow, but I haven't been feeling stress about that. Could just be that my brain decided I'd gone too long without major anxiety and I need to be kept on my toes. Who knows.

If I still lived alone, I may have stayed at home all day, even though it was a beautiful, sunny, summer Saturday and the markets were full of good food and interesting people. I'm glad I went out, I got some of that food, and visited with some of those people, and there were moments during which the anxiety abated, but never quite disappeared.

What have I learned today? That if I have major anxiety, I need to not hibernate. I need to get out amongst people and sunshine, at least for a little while.

Let's hope I remember this for next time.

Enjoy what's left of the weekend.

In Which I'm Not Much of a Cook

2009-06-06T19:32:00.000-07:00

Many weeks I go to market three days a week. Now that Eastern Market is open again, I'll likely be going to two markets on Saturdays. I love seeing piles of fresh vegetables and imagining what I could do with them. The problem is, I get tempted by all of that lovely, fresh stuff, buy it, take it home, and usually dump most of it into the composter when it gets brown and/or mushy. I hate that.

Today at Central Market* I only bought yogurt and milk (okay, and strawberry shortcake) and at Eastern Market only mushrooms (okay, and mango ice), because most of the piles of lovely produce I bought last week were still sitting in the fridge.

This evening I decided I was going to use at least some of it so that I wouldn't have to compost it all, and so that I would eat something other than cereal (it was an odd week, I was hibernating).

First, I roasted slices of eggplant and white zucchini in the toaster oven with a couple of cloves of garlic and some olive oil. I had them on slices of good Italian bread spread with chive goat cheese, not bad. I have some left over, and am thinking of putting it in sandwiches to take to Long's Park tomorrow night, to supplement my obligatory french fries.

Next, I chopped my bunch of chard, the other zucchini, a few mushrooms, and some garlic. I started the garlic in olive oil, then added the chard stems, mushrooms, and zucchini. I let them soften a bit, then added dried thyme (probably not enough) and balsamic vinegar. When they had cooked another minute or two, I piled the pan high with ribbons of chard leaves, added more balsamic, and put a lid on the whole thing to let the leaves wilt, while I boiled some whole wheat pasta. The result was definitely edible, but didn't have any zip. I have leftovers, which I will definitely eat, but I need to get more creative with herbs and spices if I'm going to cook random piles of vegetables.

I am not an intuitive cook, though I'd like to be. I'm just not quite sure how to get there from here. Any advice would be welcome.

*Part of what I did at Central Market today was to staff the Buy Fresh Buy Local table and hand out the brand new Local Food Guide for Lancaster County. It's a handy little resource, and will be helpful for people in the area interested in adding more local food to their diets.

Why I'm Here

2009-06-05T12:30:00.000-07:00

I am beginning this, sitting at Prince Street Cafe, because I miss blogging. I don't quite know what this will evolve into, but I know I'll be talking about living in Lancaster: what I do here, interesting things that may be happening, and anything else about it that may pop into my head.There will also likely be knitting content, and talk about the writing I may or may not be doing at any moment.

I don't plan to get intensely personal about my life, but that's not to say I won't talk about anything other than strictly general information. I hope people find me and enjoy what I have to say, but I make no guarantees about anything.

That said, I guess a bit of introduction may be in order. I am a woman in my late thirties, sharing a two floor apartment in a converted row house in Lancaster, PA with my boyfriend and another housemate. I am currently, technically, unemployed, having recently been laid off from my job selling yarn. I do a bit of freelance writing and proofreading, but not enough, at the moment, to be able to constitute a living wage.

In the short term, I am doing some writing, scanning the meager Sunday Employment ads, and trying to sort out what comes next. In the longer term, I'll have to come up with something. Ideally, I would like to find work in downtown Lancaster, because I love being able to walk to work and leave my car parked most of the time. Given the current job market, I may have to compromise, and give the temp agency more latitude in looking for assignments.

Work aside, I write and knit, and take photographs in spurts. I visit Central and Eastern Markets regularly, and try to take advantage of what Lancaster has to offer. I like to travel, but don't get myself out of town as much as I would like.

I am a new convert to Facebook and Twitter ( @wrtrmaus ) and do still manage to check Ravelry from time to time, which all adds up to a lot of time spent online, possibly too much, if I really think about it.

That's plenty for now. You'll be seeing more of me eventually.

Welcome!