Transience

wallpaper: a cruel, evil joke on homeowners

I say with great pride: the border in the front bedroom is gone (except for a tiny bit above the window that I think I'll paint over because it doesn't want to come off. Not exactly how I'd planned to spend my Saturday afternoon, but that's ok. I just kept thinking how great the room will look when I've erased every trace of the sponge painting & hideous border.

I used a steamer this time, which really sped things up. Unfortunately, it sprayed hot water all over the floor and me, which meant a lot of mopping. It also melted the paint, which then scraped up in scabby folds. The wall is going to be uneven; looks like a lot of patching and sanding is in my future.

Ah well. Doing this room and the bathroom have convinced me that I will never, ever put up wallpaper. It is just a cruel joke on any future homeowner who may have different taste. Stick to paint and let change come easily.

#21 - Susan Sargent's The Comfort of Color

Susan Sargent's The Comfort of Color : inspire * transform * create by Susan Sargent and Todd Lyon

Beautiful colors in the photos! It made me want to be even bolder with my walls and furniture. (Not all of her rooms were to my taste, as I don't really like wallpaper or some of the rug patterns she chose. But inspiring, nonetheless.)

#20 - Feng Shui with What You Have

Feng Shui with What You Have by Connie Spruill and Sylvia Watson

This is probably my favorite feng shui book so far. I appreciate that the authors recognize that the traditional feng shui symbols aren't necessarily the most appropriate things for non-Chinese to use. Why not use a symbol from my own culture that means wealth or romance or whatever? Practical and useful; I recommend this one if you're looking at f.s.

#19 - Living Feng Shui

Living Feng Shui by Carole Hyder

An interesting assortment of stories detailing how feng shui helped change peoples' lives. I read this sort of thing and find my inner cynic coming out, though. I want proof. How do I know these stories are true?

#18 - Clearing the Clutter for Good Feng Shui

Clearing the Clutter for Good Feng Shui by Mary Lambert

A general book about organizing with a veneer of feng shui. Nothing I haven't read somewhere else.

#17 - Feng Shui Chic

Feng Shui Chic: Change Your Life With Spirit and Style by Carole Swann Meltzer and David Andrusia

Oh. Good. Grief.
What a load of crap.
Avoid this like the plague.
Feng shui does not tell you what clothes to wear or which perfume to pick.

#16 - Angels and Demons

Angels and Demons by Dan Brown

I enjoyed this more than Da Vinci Code, probably because the art history errors weren't quite as glaring. I thought it brought up interesting questions about the relationship between science and religion. Of course, then he had to go and ruin it at the end, where everything became more and more ridiculous and unbelieveable.

#15 - Redwall

Redwall by Brian Jacques was a cute enough story. I suspect I would have loved it when I was twelve. Alas, twenty additional years of reading have jaded me; when it comes to reading about talking animals, I prefer Watership Down.

#14 - The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Feng Shui

The Illustrated Encyclopedia of Feng Shui by Lillian Too

Well, it certainly goes into great detail about history & meaning in feng shui. I didn't pick up a lot of practical info, though. I think this is definitely a book you'd refer to for a specific topic, rather than something you'd just sit down and read. My gut impression? "Wow. Somebody just discovered Photoshop's 'watercolor' filter."

plateau

Ha. That'll teach me to fiddle around with my dose.

I'm doing better, but still feel kind of wiped out by the emotional intensity of Saturday. If nothing else, I now know that the "I'm feeling fine and don't really need to take meds anymore" thoughts are wrong wrong wrong.

plummet

I am curled up in a little ball on the floor, leaning on the futon and wishing OH GOD OH God I wish I weren't alone any more and I hate hate hate it every time I get another engagement announcement from a friend. And it's only 5:22 and the night stretches out before me and it's long and I just don't know what to do. Damn it. I do not want to sit home yet another fucking Saturday and do laundry and watch the cats fitght. Damn. I cna't even spell firht right nowl. And I don't care endouught to figx it. Because it's much more stai satisfying to puojnesf edfj pound on the keys. damn damn damnb.k I hate crying and I'jm doing it again. And I was fine until I came home and got that postcard from Jane. And I realize that the'res no end to lonely nights in sight and it makes me so fucking mad. I am so sick of always going to movies alone, of never having anyone to talk to without having to makle the effort to go out anjd find someone. I miss kissing. I miss other stuff. There are days where I just about tackle the nearest single guy and drag him back to my lair. When is it my turn? When do I get to be happy? When do I get the husband and the sex and the 2.3 kids and the toaster oven of my choice???? I am cold and tired and have got to do something to get myself out of the house before I go crazy.

trouble in paradise

A month ago I started clenching my teeth all the time. Life hadn't become any more noticably stressful, so I thought it would pass. It hasn't. I also started having incredibly vivid, disturbing dreams (much like the ones I had when taking too much 5-htp) and night sweats which left me waking up amid soaked sheets.

Enough is enough. I did a quick google search yesterday afternoon and discovered that they're all Lexapro side-effects. Thinking back, the jaw clenching probably started about a week after we raised my dose. It appears to have something to do with the levels of serotonin in the brain, as do the dreams. So last night I dropped back to a lower dose, to see if it helps.

An interesting side note is that jaw clenching is apparently also a side-effect of taking ecstacy, not that I have any personal experience. I guess they affect serotinin in similar ways. Weird.

gender, god, and oppression (or the lack thereof)

I've been reading The Dance of the Dissident Daughter this week and find myself unable to relate to the author. The first time I tried to read it, several months ago, I got about 15 pages in, said "whatever" and returned it to the library. I've made it farther this time - 47 pages so far - but I'm still not sure if I'll finish.

I keep having to stop and ask myself "Do I feel oppressed? Should I?" And most of the time, the answer is no. I wonder how much of this is simply a difference in ages? After all, Sue Monk Kidd is a fair bit older than I; perhaps she was raised in a time when being demure and meek and helpless was an ideal and women were not "supposed" to do many things. I, on the other hand, don't remember ever being prevented from doing something solely because of my gender. (Well, there was that one time that dad told my brother to mow the lawn because it was men's work, but I suspect he might have been joking. I know I certainly mowed the lawn quite a bit as a kid.) There was a general sense that I'd follow the traditional "college > marriage > kids" pattern, but my folks certainly supported my right to do whatever I wanted.

Perhaps some of the distress comes from the religious settings in which we were raised. Kidd, if I remember correctly, grew up in a Baptist household and married a minister. I imagine that conservative Christianity in the 50s would have had the potential to be quite gender-biased. But then, that's my understanding of how society as a whole was at that time. (Admittedly, this understanding is based largely on TV shows. But hey- there has to be an element of truth in there somewhere, right?)

I, on the other hand, grew up in a largely areligious household, where the concept of spiritual headship and similar ideas didn't exist. Sure, dad was in charge of me (as was mom), but that was because he was dad, not because of some god-given divine authority. My brushes with Christianity were largely with fairly liberal churches, where being a good person was more important than the length of your hair or the number of verses you memorized. A foray into the new age did not bring up any gender bias, either. By the time I started attending a charismatic church in college, I suspect my ideas were fairly set. So I got pissed at the pastor when he did a series of sermons to old men, young men, and older (married) women. And I told him so. After all, a huge portion of our congregation were single college women. Men were often, but not always, pastors at the churches I've attended. But it was quite clear to me that the majority of the women I knew there were very strong, spiritual beings. They seemed to have the real power.

Kidd speaks of women apologizing to their husbands when they give birth to a girl. I just can't conceive of this. It's just so foreign to my experience, though I know it happens around the world.

Most of all, I struggle to identify with her "feminine wound." I do not feel wounded or damaged or slighted because I am female. (I'll admit I'd be happy if I didn't have to have periods or could go camping alone without fearing for my safety. But those are the only times when I'd prefer to be a man.) I may feel wounded because I was the fat girl or the shy one or I didn't have the trendy clothes. But never because of what was between my legs. Never.

Am I just lucky?

The book has also made me think a lot about the feminine nature of God, largely because I don't believe that God is some giant, white-bearded man somewhere up in the sky. More on God our mother may appear in a later post.

xoxoxo

going back

One of the side-effects of Lexapro is incredibly vivid dreams. They're similar to the ones I had when taking 5-htp, so it must be something about that serotonin boost that does it. Last night I dreamt that I was back at Carleton, just starting college, but I remembered everything that has happened since I was there the first time.

I wanted to run up to Gina and Vicki and tell them, "Life is short! Your life is short! Enjoy it! Suck the marrow from the bones!"

I longed to re-live all those days where I was too scared or shy or self-conscious to let go and have fun. What's the worst that would happen from talking to someone I didn't know? What if I had worried a little less about the state of the druids' souls and a little more about who they really were? What I had worried less about the state of my own soul and discovered my true self? I found myself playful, running through my dream with abandon. Why didn't I spend my Fridays dancing instead of studying? Why didn't I realize that there were more ways for me to know God than those written in a book? Why did it take me so long to discover that I am strong and brave and smart and able to make my own decisions and take control of my own life?

I woke longing for something, but I can't wrap words around it. There's just this feeling of pressure in my chest, of something that needs to be realized, something growing but not yet ready to be birthed.

I have been singing again. The sunshine pulls melody from my soul. Even in the depths of winter, when I feel empty and drained, there is a promise of returning spring. I want to feel the sap flow through my limbs. I am rooted in this place, this time, but my arms still stretch towards heaven.

God is good and I don't know why. But I see it in Anna's body when she dances, Aidan and Brigit's purring, the play of sunlight on my wall, Isaac's laughter last night, the growing stomachs of my friends, the taste of whipped cream on a shared milkshake. I can't go back and change the past, but I can try to remember to see the goodness in the present.

to a turtle brownie

Oh, sweet seductress-
ebon'd temptress,
drape your caramel tresses
around my heart,
around my thighs.
I hear your walnuts
calling to me-
persistently
from the kitchen down the hall,
your succulent siren song
a plea for love
I cannot resist.

my two left feet (or something like that)

Weariness saps the life from my body. Exhaustion set in several days ago and I can't shake it. I'm so tired I can barely see, but if I lie down for a nap I know I won't be able to sleep.

Today I didn't realize until noon that I'm wearing two different shoes. At least they're both black.

Some days I feel like such a freak.
Today I feel like a tired freak.