labelleizzy: (Default)
Wednesday, September 4th, 2019 02:30 pm
From October 12th, 2018, 03:28 pm
Inktober/wordtober/poem a day
The prompt was "Nessie" but I'm taking this somewhere else underwater.

Longing.

Have you ever been shamed for what you craved? Has your longing ever been pointed out as wrong or weird or twisted or broken or an imposition or something unnecessary?

I have. I've been shamed for wanting things, for wanting experiences, for wanting people. And I don't think that was right. And most days I'm okay, most days it feels like I'm over it, but today is not one of those days.

The thing about a longing is it doesn't come out of your mind. It's not a thought. It wells up from deep in your belly, deep in your heart, or dare I say it, spirit or soul. You can't talk yourself out of a longing.

You can hold yourself quiet about it, can keep the surface of your personal pond pristine and peaceful. Still, underneath the surface something lives, something moves, something travels. Something roils the water beneath the surface.

And there are days where I can no longer bear to live on the quiet pristine peaceful surface. On a day like today, I sink below to the Deep places, where the water presses through my flesh and into my bones.

I sink down to the deep mud churned places, where I can finally breathe.



2)
KILROY WAS HERE
(probably 2015)
https://archiveofourown.org/works/16903659

...and it takes place after the end of the world.

Oh god, we were SO FUCKING STUPID.
So naive.

those long discussions around the campfire or around the HDTV, cold beers in our hands, hot nachos in the fucking microwave, laughing and joking about the fucking "zombie apocalypse". How we would have this job or that job, how we would hole up in a Costco store, because it would have everything we'd need to survive and even enjoy life after the world ended. The skills we already had or could learn quickly in order to be valuable enough to win our way into someone else's fortified stronghold.

We had NO IDEA. We had NO IDEA what we really needed, what we really knew how to do, how fucking SOFT we were.
How much EVERYTHING would hurt. How much WORK just bloody EVERYTHING would take, how much thinking and planning and acquiring.

How much FEAR. Terror. Absolutely shit-your-pants terror.

We used to say, "I'd get a really good knife, and really good boots, and this kind of backpack and that kind of rifle" without really understanding.
What happens when your knife gets dull? Well, you sharpen it. How do you sharpen it? Do you KNOW how? do you have the right tools? can you recognize something else you could improvise as a blade sharpener, if you run across it? and can you use that blade, even dull, to do what you must to survive another day? It's hard work, gutting a carcass, butchering an animal for meat...

Same goes, obviously, for the REST of all our dumb-shit assumptions about how privileged and lucky and SKILLED we were.

What happens if someone TAKES your tools from you? Those books you treasured, that were the reason why you thought you'd gain admission into someone's guarded bolthole? The boots, the knife, even your CLOTHES. What happens if you're not strong enough to protect them? To hold onto them?

Knowing how to brew beer isn't very valuable when there's not enough fucking FOOD. Nobody really cares about booze when they're starving. Knowing how to bake bread is useless, so are gardening skills, if you can't settle down anywhere longer than a week or two for fear of the scavengers. Wildcrafting is a blessing, and I'm glad every day for what I learned from my beloved Girl Scout Leader, of all things. What she taught me when I was fourteen makes the difference now between hungry and starved to death.

I'm always hungry now, I'm always worried about getting hurt bad enough so I can't run anymore. I haven't had any of my meds in over two years, I've got half a tube of neosporin left and fuck-all chance of scoring any more. I'm getting slower, I hurt more often, I'm lonely as fuck. I'll never stop grieving my husband and my home and the comforts I once took for granted, but I just don't have any fucking TIME to FEEL. Every moment has to be spent in working out how am I going to survive this day, food, water, shelter, taking care of myself, whether I can trust anyone at all. Despair would dog my footsteps if Despair could keep up with me. I move fast for an old broad. Fuck that, I move fast period.

What the fuck am I even doing? Who am I even writing this for? I have no idea who's going to read it, but I'm stuck here anyway till it's dark and I can sneak away through the shadows. Might as well, I guess.
heh.
One thing my shitty childhood was good for. Learning how to hide, to sneak, to find all the places nobody would think to look for me. No, I'm not sharing my secrets. Find your own damn bolthole. Oh. Heh. If you're reading this, I guess you DID find your own bolthole, just that I was here first. Hi.

I'd tell you to keep the faith, but I don't think anyone has faith in anything but themselves anymore. I'd tell you to keep up hope, but I know you know that's a stupid, useless thing to say. I can tell you I'm thinking about you, because it's true. Random Stranger Reading This, I hope you're less hungry and less alone than I am. RSRT, I hope you have someone or something to love and take care of. RSRT, try to be kind. My only happy memories from the last two years are of random kindnesses. Someone scratched directions to a waterhole that hadn't gone dry. Someone left bedding in a bolthole. Someone left the last few pieces of fruit on a tree... that might not have been kindness, that might have been someone who was too big to climb out onto those thin whippy branches at the top of the tree... someone little like me could still get up and out to them.

Once, back in the day, I was fat and prosperous and happy. I thought I was ugly, being fat, I had NO fucking IDEA. I was so lucky then. I was loved, and safe, and pampered and treasured, and I had no idea. Now I'm tiny, wiry, strong, and fast. I have had to be, to survive.

Random Stranger Reading this, despite everything, have hope. Life may be shit right now, but if we all keep going, something has GOT to get better. Maybe I've been off my meds too long, and this is a manic episode, maybe it's just I've exhausted all my fear and I don't fucking have time for anything that doesn't keep me going.

I do have hope. I don't know why, but I do.

It's almost dark now, I can barely see to write, so it's time to pack up and head out silently to my next bolthole.

I hope you can pass some hope along to the next person you meet, and I hope they're worthy of you trusting them.

Good luck, and gods' speed to you.

"kilroy"

Logged reading time: 7:30


3)
poem: Building Strength
(2:30)

why is it painful to let go of unhelpful words?
perhaps these were once upon a time, protectors,
the words bookworm, nerd, gimp, weakling.
the belief that if it was hard, I wasn't meant to do it...
if I were meant to do it, it would surely come naturally?

i can't seem to get my glasses clean
to see my own Self in the mirror
to understand my own wingspan
or the extent of my reach
or how far I can leap

hamstrung by my blindness
the persistence of memory
self image of pale, soft, weak, fearful
but there is so much more to me
than what I used to be

Am I strong? Yes. Am I smart? Yes.
Am I capable? Yes. Am I flexible? Yes.
Am I kind? Yes.
Am I soft?

*smile* Yes, I am soft.
Soft like a pillow at naptime, and comfortable.
Soft like silk sheets, and strong like them too.

Am I brave?
Yes.
Could I write were I still fearful?
Yes, ... but I wouldn't show my heart, were I still fearful.

I don't deal in trivialities.
I want the blood, and the bone, and the sweat,
I want the gritted teeth and the grunts of effort.

I step beyond old useless protectors.
I make myself stronger from the inside
I stand strong

I do not need the deflections of nerd, gimp, weakling.

I see the world as it is and as I would have it
and I reach out my hands
to begin shaping the world
A strong, kind, smart, compassionate world

and my strong hands
will shape it

NOTES: Good audience attention and faces.
Kit said, "damn you got some tasty brains!"
Jeff said, "good pieces!"

Jen and Andrew, Sean and Julia, Suzie and Bala, Mindy and Steve, Jeff and Daniel,
Kit and Amy, all attended!!!
labelleizzy: (Default)
Wednesday, September 4th, 2019 02:16 pm
old ghosts (tw: termination of pregnancy)

I was looking in the mirror one day and thought, "I would have none of this if I hadn't ended the pregnancy."

I was 25 years old when I got pregnant.
Can't decide if I should phrase that as "had an unwanted pregnancy", "got impregnated", or what. "got knocked up" isn't quite appropriate for the situation, because I can't afford in telling this story to be too flippant.

it was 1995. My dad had been dead less than a year, after being sick from diabetes and liver damage for several years, declining worse each year.
Mom and I were living together, in the house on Papaya Drive with the 1970's Spanish tile floors and the little fish pond and waterfall in the back yard. I had a great view of the green green green backyard, and had the constant waterfall noise in my ears every night as I fell asleep.


The smell and the feel of that house inform my memories of the time.

Brian and I were having sex and he didn't tell me that the condom broke, till after. Like, it still puzzles me, he says he felt it tearing, he says it was actually kind of painful for him, but he kept going.

He told me afterwards that he thought I wanted him to, to keep going, which yeah, who doesn't wanna get off, but seriously WHAT KIND OF ASSHOLE DOESN'T TELL HIS GIRLFRIEND THAT THE CONDOM BROKE. I still ... *makes incoherent rage noises*

You know how I learned that the condom broke? I reached down to hold the top of the condom when he went to pull out, and the horror of it was that all there was to hold was the ring that was the top of it. That was all that was left. … we had to dig inside my vagina and find it to pull it back out….

I could try to put possible reasons on what he was thinking, maybe it was as simple as HE wanted to get off too so he kept going even without the condom.

But I don't really wanna think about his alleged motivations because **I** was the one who wound up pregnant.

I felt the change in my body almost immediately. Within just a few days after the "accident," my boobs got bigger, the nipples got softer and more tender. My pussy and labia were constantly hot and tender, and I just had this internal *awareness* low in my pelvis and belly. And I had so many feelings about all of it.

mostly I came to a sudden and crystallized awareness that, more than not wanting to have to raise a child, I didn't want to spend the rest of my life with BRIAN. And I knew immediately, at a gut level, that in some way or another, no matter what else, I'd have to deal with Brian forever if I chose to have this kid.

and it was almost inconceivable anyway, (heh, yeah I went there) to think of having a kid. You spend so much of your early adolescence and twenties controlling your fertility really tightly, worried about the what-if. And sex is mostly fun, mostly meant to be fun, when you're not in a serious relationship and *planning* to have a kid…*

I had done research for a paper in college into medical side effects of being pregnant, it's no kind of easy walk in the park! There's real risk of gestational diabetes, blood pressure problems, varicose veins, digestion issues, likelihood of daily vomiting over months, *massive* mood swings and hormone changes, I mean the number of side effects you have to suffer through for a WANTED pregnancy, not to mention the non-zero risk of DEATH, or single parenthood, or ... all the different ways your children hurt you or break your heart.

That little... blue line on the pregnancy test. Oh my god. Possibly the scariest thing I've ever seen, and I already even KNEW. Like, there was no MISTAKING what my body was doing. I had this swirl of emotions going through my brain and body.


And I left the test on the bathroom counter, under a sheet of newspaper.(back when we still took the paper) Like I had zero idea how to talk to my mom about this. I was terrified I was going to be a disappointment to her, but I knew without thinking that if I *didn't* conceal this test, she would find it and know and help me. (and it turned out that she did find it, and she did help me, which I'll talk about at the end)

I can't even tell you about all the other things I was feeling then because even now, 25 years later, it's still hard thinking about that time in my life; emotional chaos and turmoil, still angry and grieving my father's death, along with everything else. I know I haven't quite forgiven myself for my own ignorance (and what feel like bad-choices when I am being hard on myself).

Though, trust me I do know all about the extenuating circumstances. I know why I made those bad choices especially because I have gotten therapy and done a lot of self work over the last two decades. I can see my own patterns and recognize where those impulses arose from and I don't let that part of myself drive the bus anymore, because I've healed a lot of those childhood injuries, or at least mostly healed them. Largely through talking and writing, both writing the blog and longhand and poetry. All kinds of ways.

I was 25, and Brian was 28. Theoretically that was old enough to know what we wanted, but both of us were dumb and inexperienced in relationships. We'd not really thought and especially not talked about what we wanted at the time or at any time in the future. We were just slinging along together because I think both of us thought we were the best we could do.

But we were old enough to decide if we wanted to have a child together and we met at Tower Cafe in downtown Sacramento to talk about it. about two weeks after the condom broke and a few days after I had taken the test. I'd said "we need to get together and to talk face to face" and he said yes, so we scheduled it. We hadn't even sat down properly at the patio table when Brian said, "You're pregnant, aren't you?" and I said yes. I don't remember exactly how the conversation went but I remember it wasn't a difficult or stressful one.

We were unanimous, that we didn't want to have a child (together), and we were both relieved to find that out. That neither of us had to try and convince the other to keep or to terminate. We were agreed to terminate.

I made the appointment. I had to stay pregnant for a total of eight weeks before the hospital could perform the procedure. I don't remember why that was.

To his credit,(Brian) did take me to the appointment, and did get me home safely.

My mom, and this makes my eyes fill up with tears, had a heating pad, an extra blanket, and she'd set up her bed, the big bed, for me to have a nap. She brought me a bed tray with my favorite tea, some toast with jam, and a little rose-bud in a little vase. I absolutely did cry from that, and everything else.

Brian stayed with me there on the bed until I had the snack and fell asleep. It was dark when I woke up, and he wasn't there anymore, and I was disappointed and angry, but realized there was really only so much I could expect from the guy.

Mom was good to me. No judgment, no anger, just support. She had my back. I had her back. We were a good team back then.

I don't like contemplating alternate universes for this story. Like, the what-if game doesn't work out well for me.

in 1995 I hadn't gone back to school to get a teaching credential.

I hadn't met my first husband, or even the boyfriend before him (who was and is a better human being and more thoughtful and kind than either Brian or my first husband).
I hadn't started my spiritual journey that gives me so much richness and meaning in my life (and which I was turned on to by the boyfriend I mention above)///
I hadn't started getting therapy for my relationship with my dad and my inability to grieve him or to get out of the anger stage of the grief.

My mind shudders away from the idea of having had to raise a kid in the conditions we were living in. Not that those were horrible, but it would have been stressful, hard work. And while I know motherhood is supposed to have its rewards, I just don't even know how I would have coped, without the skills that I have been able to acquire BECAUSE I didn't have a kid...

It's this fork in the road that my life took, and I DEFINITIVELY chose the one path and left the other path behind.

I'm glad I am HERE. I'm glad that THIS is what it is. I'm glad to have Eeyore and my priesthood and Burning Man and a lot of beloved friends. I'm glad to have the writing, and the making and the sewing and the dancing, and the work toward social justice.

The ability to choose when and whether to have a child is HUGE in your ability to determine your life's path. HUGE./// 12 Minutes

I don't have any kind of snappy ending, except that I am grateful that I got the chance to have the choice about whether or not to have a kid, and I will continue to fight for other people's right to chose whether to have a kid or not.

NOTES Performed this on the spoken word stage at center camp, Burning Man 2019 Mon August 26. One woman thanked me and cried. One man told me about, before he knew he was gay, his girlfriend got pregnant, and when she miscarried, they also cuddled in bed with the heating pad. And a couple that were pregnant (8 months) and beautiful "the first one I've carried to term"
But the last person said, "did you do this as a TED talk? It feels familiar" and I said no, it was a blog post and he said "huh well I guess we know what comes next"
SQUEEEEEEEEE

TAGS abortion, actions have consequences, anger, becoming, challenge, children, choice, dad, death, designing my own life, feeling some feelings, feelings, guilt, karma, life is good, making things, mom, open hearted, pagan practice in everyday life, paradigm shift, parent, past lives, pathwork, personal cartography, pregnancy, probably more than you really wanted to , sad, self, self-worth, spirituality, state of the liz, stomping brain weasels, stream of consciousness, taking care of business., truth falling out of my mouth, what doesn't kill me makes me stronger, words, spoken word, burning man
labelleizzy: (Default)
Tuesday, June 7th, 2011 04:38 pm
I did Two Hard Things That Were Hard today.

One was to wake up after a night of almost no sleep to initiate an emotionally difficult conversation.

Two was to keep my mouth shut at a time later on when responding as my first impulse demanded, would've made things worse.

Here is where I say the thing that may get me in trouble : I fucking DO want a cookie. After doing Hard Things That are Hard? Yes, I want to hear a "good job" or a "thank you" or "I appreciate your efforts" BECAUSE THAT IS WHAT I NEVER GOT AS A KID.

Similarly I will never get tired of hearing someone I respect tell me I'm pretty, they love me, they're proud of me, I said something that made them think or laugh, BECAUSE THAT also IS WHAT I NEVER GOT AS A KID.

*snarl*

I give myself EXPLICIT PERMISSION to want that cookie. Explicit permission to attract that cookie, to find safe people whom I might ask for a cookie, to feel my sadness and my rage about growing up without any fucking cookies.

Because also I was taught growing up, both directly and by example, that there Are. No. Cookies! for you, and no matter how hard you try to be worthy of one, to work for one, to ask or to suffer because you want (or need!) a 'cookie'? You get NOTHING.

Fuck that shit.
I'm in charge. Y'all, I grew up, and now I make a choice.

I make cookies every fucking day, you know? and I give them out to friends and lovers and strangers I have just met. I make them by the bushel. There ARE enough cookies.

Sometimes I make cookies just because i can. I have what i need to make them and i just do it. Other times i know I am wanting to please people because I still crave approval and a smile is as good as a cookie. I'm okay with that.

And sometimes? Sometimes, (I am *such* a subversive! ) sometimes I *actually* make cookies that are just for me. Exactly what I want and need in that moment.

And then I have what I need.

Some days I run out of cookie ingredients altogether. Days like that suck horribly because it's scary and flattening. I'd say I'm lucky because that happens pretty rarely, after 11 years of learning how to make and share and ask for a cookie. I have good cookie makers around me all the time now. There's a reason for that.

I. Am. Allowed. To. Want. A. Cookie.

So, for that matter, are you.

Here endeth the lesson.

Posted via LjBeetle
labelleizzy: (we deserve)
Wednesday, January 13th, 2010 08:58 pm
I have no doubt there are lessons and Lessons to be learned here& I know it ain't over yet.

Here's one for today, related to the post I made a couple days ago:

Don't live in your body half-assedly or absent-mindedly.
It is only flesh and someday it will fail you.
Treat your body with Love and Respect.
Treat your body like Home, because that is what it is.
Live there. Live HERE, not in the past If Onlys or the future When I Finallys.
This is not a fucking dress rehearsal. What the fuck are we waiting for!
labelleizzy: (iamtheteacher)
Friday, March 13th, 2009 04:28 pm
Short story: I found myself resentful at the end of the day.
the kids were fine, well behaved, mostly on task, not disrespectful,
productive, creating WONDERFUL, tasteful art...

and I was angry at the end of the day that this was an arts program that didn't have to struggle and scrimp and go to GoodWill and ask for parents to pay fees; they had so much resource they had THOUSANDS of dollars of canvases and other supplies.

At least half the kids had iphones. None were noticeably unhealthy; one the whole day seemed to have a mobility problem (an issue for a campus with so many stairs...)

And my little half-trained Waldorf soul, while the student work in evidence was indeed precise and lovely, seems cold and ornamental. Not a "useful" project on display.

Well, so I'm feeling some feelings, I don't have time to examine them more in detail, got to head out to San Rafael. Anybody with time on their hands can toss some theories out if they want to.

(maybe I'm just cranky cos the tree pollen allergies are on the rise. Dunno.)

G'night, y'all, heading out to the land of no internets (aka my Waldorf classes.)
labelleizzy: (Default)
Friday, October 17th, 2008 12:51 pm
Last night I got, as a friend of mine used to say, Thwacked With The Salmon Of Wisdom... cos some of us don't get to eat the salmon, and that's just how it goes.

I have to find a Professional Fisherman who can supply me with Salmon-Thwacks until I learn better how to fish for my own Learned Fish.

...am a bit discouraged. Have a lot of stuff to work on: need to raise the bar from Calendaring to Logistics (which is more complicated, of course); need to Time Manage so I get all my homework done before class (I'm wayyyy behind now), and I need to seriously re-engage in the Job Search.

I want to crawl into a cave, or go do EVERYthing else other than what I need to do. But I can't afford to get distracted, somehow I just lost 2 hours (though I did finish my project for Saturday's class).

Would I "manage my time" better if I had a job? A regular routine? You bet your bippy I would.

(GODS I hate jobhunting.)

Gonna go eat lunch and get done what I need to.
labelleizzy: (not the best day)
Saturday, May 10th, 2008 02:36 pm
or if you do drink and walk, watch where the hell you put your foot...

argh.
Last night was Wine and Song at [livejournal.com profile] thechoirloft, and I got to say hello to and get hugs from [livejournal.com profile] cortneyofeden and [livejournal.com profile] ef2p before they had to scram. Got to admire Chris's baby daughter Veronica, and some brief baby-talkin' with his lady (whose name I did not catch.) Had some good conversation with [livejournal.com profile] zpdiduda, [livejournal.com profile] blackberry74, [livejournal.com profile] vvvexation, and [livejournal.com profile] trekster, among others. I also got pettin's from [livejournal.com profile] trekster, she was very snuggly and that was nice cos I have been skin-hungry for awhile.

I wasn't even "drunk", just somewhat merry, and I saw OOOH! Fire! out in the backyard as [livejournal.com profile] coyote3405 lit a bonfire with old Christmas pine branches...

so I went out to help, I said, "Oh, can I..."
*whups*
*OwFuckOwFuck OW!*
as I rolled my ankle in the water-gutter they have in their backyard.
I did NOT break the wineglass, which Mark said was good since it was their almost-last one of the set. *woot*
I DID bend myself fairly spectacularly...

however many rushed to help me minimize the damage - props go to [livejournal.com profile] brian1789 who ran inside immediately and fetched out an icepack (- thanks, Jay, the injury surely would have been a fair bit worse today without that quick action), [livejournal.com profile] thats_ms_dragon, who kept me company outside and firmly fetched me water when I asked for another glass of wine - she is teh smart, cos lord knows with a sprained ankle I did NOT need more vasodilation! Others came by to chat and check in, which again was nice, and comforting.

Down side was, I had REALLY been looking forward to soaking in the tub... but the ankle would have swolled up as big as my head if I had, so, *regretfully noting the necessity* I look forward to doing so another time.

After a wee bit of elevating the leg propped up on the patio chair, I hobbled inside and conned [livejournal.com profile] celticmoni into letting me have the chair with the leg-rest. Good conversation there, and I got to observe her L33+ M0M skillz in practice... she's endlessly patient, respectful, and loving with her Sprout. I admire that a LOT. Mark came back to hide from the thinning crowds and play solitaire for a bit. [livejournal.com profile] celticmoni got the Sproutling's socks and shoes back on to head home, and I curled up on the bed he abandoned (not before he'd enjoyed MUCH bouncing on the bed LOL) under various shoulder-wraps and lap-throws for a bit of a nap.

Eventually we-all realized how late it was getting, while Rebecca (LJ handle?) discovered a mix-up that had meant her keys, cell phone, and sweatshirt going home instead with [livejournal.com profile] choirboypuppy, and that got sorted out while [livejournal.com profile] eeyore42 and [livejournal.com profile] deedeebythebay and I kept her company...

Then Jeff helped me to walk down the driveway-that-is-a-fairly-steep-hill and brought Percy over close so I didn't have to walk so far to get into the car.

Hobbled into the house, piled into bed after I found the ACE bandage, wrapped myself up pretty adequately, took 600 mg Ibuprofen, and fell into sleep (this was pushing 2:30 am IIRC). About 7 or so the ankle woke me again, I schlepped my ass into bathroom for more Ibuprofen, unwrapped the ankle (it was throbbing), and ZONK was out again till nearly 1 pm. Probably the smartest thing I could have done under the circumstances - which were me sleep-dep all week on TOP of this recent injury... Yeah.

I was stretching a little and checking range of motion with my leg and foot, but Then Jeff Woke Me The Best Way, and I also got to make "dessert" for him which was way cool, and then I re-wrapped my ankle after cleaning up, and he made us brunch with a sausage-and-pepper stirfry which we ate with tortilla chips and sour cream. Yum. Jeff also told me that he was proud of me for how I handled my injury, and I said thanks but I couldn't have been so calm about it without so many people helping take care of me, which was indeed awesome of everyone.

Now, I'm having more tea and reading a cheep Mercedes Lackey Valdemar novel, and I'm going to go back to that right after finishing this and checking email briefly.

Hope y'all had a ... um, less PAINFUL Friday night than mine. *grin*

Yay for people who will take care of me after I hurt myself. *rah*
labelleizzy: (Default)
Tuesday, January 1st, 2008 07:49 pm
I am hearing good things from my f-list about what people want to accomplish, achieve, or change in this new year.

After reading what [livejournal.com profile] noelfigart had to say about planning and goalsetting, though, I realized that my main priorities for this year fall into 5 main categories. Tidy, that.

1) Simplify.
2) Get Stronger.
3) Network.
4) Plan.
5) Practice.

I think I will enjoy exploring/writing about each of those in turn. Or not.

Fairly self explanatory. And I've written reams over the last what- 4 years? I've been on Livejournal?

Simplicity will be good.
labelleizzy: (happy family)
Monday, May 21st, 2007 06:35 am
Happy Birthday, Scotty.

I love you.
labelleizzy: (growth is inevitable)
Sunday, April 29th, 2007 10:27 pm
I've decided that from now on, April is my Month-o-Self-Care-n-Checkups.

it just makes sense.

No more putting it all off.





which reminds me, I have to book a flight and get a substitute again for Friday's Southern Cal memorial for Scotty. And make sure it's ok with my boss. (I'm pretty sure it will be.)
labelleizzy: (Default)
Sunday, January 25th, 2004 10:12 pm
A favorite poem of mine since age 11. )

I used to agree with what Ogden Nash said in this poem.
Used to feel certain that I was alone in my life, that I was a freak and destined for the solitary life, that I'd never have a boyfriend, never fall in love, never know connection or the cessation of loneliness.

>*introspective navel-gazing ensues* )
labelleizzy: (nanowrimo)
Tuesday, July 8th, 2003 01:19 pm
...sometimes I think I am a freak for taking pleasure in things no one else talks about.
... sometimes i think i am a child for taking pleasure in things that are "too simple."

* beautiful blue skies and crisp fresh air
* a dandelion in flower, growing up thru the sidewalk cracks...
* clean ears after a shower or bath (yay Q-tips!)
* eating really good food when I'm really hungry
* being busy or engrossed in something really cool to the extent that I forget to eat....
* swimming, jacuzzi, floating, feeling my hair spread out in the water...
* dancing along in my house with a favorite radio song, and feeling that I somehow have "nailed it" - I dunno, moving just with the rhythm, using muscles I don't usually use...
* a much needed haircut - great satisfaction in this
* saying something that makes a friend grin, who I don't see often enough to really KNOW what makes them grin...
* completion of a small but necessary task
* cuddles & great conversation
* laughing till my ribs hurt or I'm gasping for breath
* making someone else laugh uncontrollably
* a wicked, flirty smile (mine or someone else's)
* being "in the zone" while freeway driving - utterly aware of other drivers' patterns, and even anticipating trouble... (thank you, Hermes!)
* good hair days (ok, sometimes I'm a little shallow)
* sunlight shading green through late-afternoon sun-dappled branches...
* a long, close hug where you trust the person enough to lay your head on their chest, or on top of their head, and leave it there for awhile...

... and there's so much more!
But, I have a date with a friend for a tutorial on MS Office Suite, and I'm gonna go do that thing.

Ok, on the job front, have applied to 2 jobs at UCDavis, have to review the other 5 for due-dates and requirements, and have to mail hard copy of the second UCDavis app with my resume, today.

Thanks to everyone who has been offering support and commentary. It makes me feel not-so-alone in the jobhunting challenge.
labelleizzy: (Default)
Tuesday, June 24th, 2003 01:33 pm
I wrote the following for the Writer's Circle Mario started up this year. I had some trouble moving out of autobiographical writing style (too many years journalling, I guess) and into fiction.
Technically, it's untitled, but it's saved as,
"His ashes are still in a box..."

Read more... )
more anon. Still waiting to hear about when the SN&R is publishing that poem o' mine.