Monday is for poetry

At least for the rest of this semester.

Today is a better day for perspective and poetry than I've had in a while. I know exactly why, though I don't have time to explore it just at the moment. Class starts soon, and I don't want to spend my whole evening in the computer lab.

Looking at Permeable (which may soon be retitled; right now I'm thinking Needle, since ambiguous noun/verbs are so much fun), I'm still dissatisfied but I can see why and have some idea what to do about it. The pacing at the start of the third stanza is all wrong; it needs more time to build to the frenetic rush of overwhelming, incomprehensible syllables. Not sure how to do that just yet, but I've got some ideas and I'm working on it.

Stanza 4 is powerful as a single line, but almost too cliched to stand alone, so I brought back a bit I'd cut from 3 and hopefully smoothed that transition a bit:

______
They’re only words, after all.
Exhaustion, indecision, insomnia;
the writers’ disease.

So I carve deep into their pathogen
until only pathos remains,
______

And I need something more there, another transition before I'm ready for cats and poetry. I know the gist of it; I need a source of perspective, something to motivate the sudden shift in tone. What's changed? More to the point, why has it changed? Did I learn something, find some peace, just give up? I think it's a little of all of that, and something more as well, something that maybe I don't understand yet and won't be able to write until I do. I think fear has something to do with it, and also maybe authority.

I just love that word. Authority. It needs its own poem. It's a hinge-point in my half-finished villanelle History Of Now. "...and then learned to say we. // It's you with my authority..." I can't remember the rest of that stanza (which means it's probably not worth keeping in its current state), but the basic idea is exploring the sentence "We are." Perhaps it would be worth breaking it out of its meter and seeing how far it could go.

Another little snatch of verse, started yesterday and will likely have some pals to travel with by the end of the week:

______
Promised myself something new,
certain stumbling blocks left behind.
Soft skin against my palms is still
soft skin, and there's nothing new about
my ink-stained hands. Stumbling
to my knees again, salty taste of spring.
Shallow, maybe, but there's so many
uses for skin.
______

Too much repetition right now, and not elegant enough to be a theme, but it feels like it has plenty of room to grow.

Going camping!

And I have about 10 minutes before I need to leave, so this'll have to be quick. I went to bed at 8 last night, got up at 7:30 this morning feeling really good. Baked bread, packed, listened to some good music and overall enjoyed myself for the last several hours. Not that this is earth-shattering or anything, it just deserved mention after that post yesterday. Have to keep things in perspective.

I've noticed alot of hyperbole and superlatives in my thoughts and language here lately. Something to ponder while I'm in the woods for the next couple days. After I get home (and shower) I'm going to try to do some last-minute birthday celebrating. Hopefully that'll work out well.

Feels like spring today

Finally.

Last night I intended to have a quiet dinner in with a friend, and instead I somehow ended up at the local gay club for karaoke night. As horrific as that sentence sounds, it was actually one of the best nights I've had in a long time. There was (responsible, moderate) drinking and (ridiculous, excessive) dancing, and for about three hours I lost track of everything except laughter and music and good company. Josh has taken to calling me "lesbian bait," which really isn't anything new for me, but it's pretty flattering and totally worry-free; I establish up front that I'm straight, they flirt anyway, and everyone has a good time. Now why can't it be that simple when I'm actually attracted to someone?

Rhetoric aside, that's a pretty good question. The obvious answer is because I care too much, and I'm wondering what I can do to change that. I had such a delightful time last night with these smart, witty, charming people, and I didn't waste any time worrying that I looked weird or can't dance or any of that. I bought a couple drinks, had a couple bought for me, and just laughed and moved and wore myself out. It amazes me, in retrospect, that I wasn't a big spazz or totally awkward, or even particularly nervous. I was charming and fun to be around, and even got a couple compliments on my dancing. I had a good time. Dancing. At a club. I was sweaty and unselfconscious and apparently still rather attractive. I want to learn to tap in to this energetic, positive self at other, more important, less inebriated times.

My legs are so sore today, and my mood is better than it's been in weeks. It's sunny and warm outside, and I've already done my homework for the weekend. I think it's time to take a lawn chair out and do some reading in the sun.

Censhorship as Sustenance (eating my words)

I haven't had much to say in this space for the past week or so. I got tired of hearing my own negativity reflected back at me, and I've been quite busy running around with new people, which is more cheering than grumbling to the anonymous expanses of the 'net. More exhausting, too, but I'm still having trouble sleeping. I think the solution is to work some physical exertion into my daily schedule. There's a free "workout center" at my apartment complex, but I'm really, really not comfortable in the gym atmosphere. But it's bad weather for outdoor pursuits.

See? Four sentences in, and it's already whine, bitch, moan. *scowls* Too bad I can't scold myself into cheering the hell up, because I'm pretty good at scolding.

I've spent a good chunk of my afternoon considering whether or not to post a response on a friend's blog to someone who some might call a troll, though from what I can see he's just opinionated and a little more forceful than I consider polite. Of course, so am I, so it would be pretty ridiculous to ignore him on that ground alone. By the same token, I have to ask myself if even the most reasoned, compassionate response is will be taken as anything beyond disagreement and an invitation to criticize my perspective.

I find that anything I can say about what I don't like about this guy's style applies equally to my own. Pedantic, forceful, argumentative and sometimes a little lacking in perspective. It's more convicting than humbling, which is nice; I'm thinking about how I can communicate myself more gently, evoke understanding rather than discord, instead of just beating myself up.

I've been a regular member of a student group this semester (shocking!), and I often leave the meetings thinking about how I could have been gentler and more concise. I won't give the name (I don't want any google hits off this one) but in their own words they are: "a group for free thought, geared towards discussing secular world views, challenging conceptions, promoting tolerance, encouraging skepticism, and fostering a better general understanding of secular philosophy and the sciences." Nice. The meetings are mostly filled with traditional undergrads, so I sometimes feel like a bit of an old woman, but that's sometimes a good feeling. I can hold my tongue while the kids talk through their ideas, step in with a firm word when I see someone getting verbally trounced for no good reason, and generally be something more of a leader than a follower. I haven't felt that way in a while, and it's a good feeling. I have to balance it with awareness of my own fallibility and a healthy does of emotional detachment, while not forgetting my compassion; healthy exercises all. (And it doesn't hurt that the person there who most exemplifies these traits himself is attractive, single, and blushes every time we make eye contact. More on that if and as it develops.)

And as I was reading through that considering how to wrap up, Pandora played something new that caught my ear and is surprisingly on topic. In closing, a bit from "Little Bird" by The Weepies:

"Sometimes it's hard to say even one thing true
When all eyes have turned aside
They used to talk to you
And people on the street seem to disapprove
So you keep moving away
And forget what you wanted to say

Little bird, little bird
Brush your gray wings on my head
Say what you said, say it again
They tell me I'm crazy

But you told me I'm golden"

thinking cheerful thoughts. grumpily.

Another sleepless night, roughly a month since the last one. I'm starting to think this might be as much a hormonal thing as anything else. Maybe I'll start marking them on a calendar or something.

Urg. I'm doing my best to fight through this awful February funk. I did a good job of it for the most part yesterday: cleaned, bought groceries, cooked, watched a movie with a friend. The cooking was pretty awesome and cheered me considerably. I baked a butternut squash (with maple syrup and a bit of brown sugar) and tried to make black bean and turkey chili, but got a bit distracted and ended up with something of a stew instead. It was thick and hearty and delicious, and complimented the squash perfectly. A little low on starch, but that's probably something I should aim for, diet-wise. The beans came from a can, but pretty much everything else was from scratch. It felt good to flex my domestic muscles (figuratively speaking; the physical flexing comes later today when I make bread).

I haven't kept up with the cleaning as consistently as I had set out to last month, but it certainly could be a lot worse as well. I've put off doing laundry for lack of quarters, so I've been reduced to baggy pants and an oversized corduroy shirt this morning. I'm reminded why I chose to dress this way for so many years. In a word: cozy. Giving myself a bit more latitude to be girly is all well and good in many circumstances; I feel more confident when attempting to blend into crowds or make new friends, and marginally less ridiculous when trying to flirt. But when it's just me and my laptop, it feels nice to revert to the frump. And David told me I should take this shirt to Goodwill. Hrmph. Shows what he knows.

Not going to dwell on him right now. More musing on positive things: In the past week I've had a couple moments with new friends that cemented in my mind certain character traits that I appreciate and want to cultivate in myself. Clark has this gentle intelligence coupled with a sharp wit that makes for fantastic conversation. He's more verbal than most men I know and much less preoccupied with awkwardness and social grace than most women. It's hard to explain what this adds up to, so I'll go with an anecdote. He was telling me about his grandfather, who has some serious health issues and is in palliative care, and that raised the subject of end-of-life care in general and the notion that choosing to end a long, full life as a very different thing from suicide in adolescence or early adulthood. I got a bit self-conscious to be expressing my thoughts so freely when this is all abstract to me, but to him it's a very real, immediate issue. I covered with my usual verbal bluster, a stream of rambling that ended in a terribly awkward mixed metaphor: "…so the body is a temple, sure, but what do you do when the temple is falling down around your ears?"

I didn't quite mange to stop talking even then, just mumbled an apology for a botched metaphor and was starting to feel really stupid, but Clark gave me his gentle little smile that's almost a smirk and said "Find some big, long-haired guy." It was so quiet and subtle it took me a minute to realize that not only was he not derailed by my rambling, not only had he actually kept up, but he somehow managed to save the metaphor for me. We were talking about his grandfather's failing health, and still he was considerate and self-controlled and smart. I'm sincerely proud to call him a friend.

What I saw from Josh that impressed me so much can't be shared in too much detail, as it's much more his story than mine, but the bare bones of it should get the idea across well enough. I was hanging out at his place and he invited another friend over, someone I've met before and liked well enough. Said friend got a little drunk and a lot belligerent, picked a fight, and generally turned an awesome night sour. Josh dealt pretty well at first, but eventually lost his temper, raised his voice, tried to set a boundary and kinda failed. Drunk and belligerent stuck with what he knew and drank faster, yelled louder, and eventually stormed off in a huff (far too drunk to be driving in my opinion, and I don't think it helped things that I chose to point that out). Josh paced around for a bit after he left, clearly upset, but didn't take his frustration out on me in the least. He didn't even badmouth his friend, which is what I would have expected to see in that situation. Instead, he poured himself some water and asked for my input, wondered aloud what he could have done to make things go differently.

The next day he mentioned it again, said he was planning on air quote apologizing. I'm not sure that's the best thing for him to do, in the long run, but I can't help but think it's exactly what I would have done in his position at his age. I'm very impressed by his humility and willingness to examine his role in creating conflict. It makes me trust him more to realize that, should we find ourselves in a serious difference of opinion, he's more likely to talk it through and try to fix things than just vilify me and play the victim.

Wit and humility. Turns out, when coupled with compassion, they're pretty much the best things ever. That gives me hope for me.

and the wheel keeps on turning

Ten points to anyone who can figure out which song I'm referencing there. Tip: it's one of the more obscure turning wheel songs, by one of those bands nobody under the age of 40 should admit to listening to. And I love them shamelessly.

This afternoon's project is working systematically through the symbols of the zodiac, with a focus on linear progression and interrelationship. Begin at the beginning:

Aires(ram): April, Fire. Assertion of ego, proclaiming the self. First step in the hero's journey. (I am.) something new
Taurus(bull): May, Earth. The growing season, sensual beauty. First tentative exploration of the world. (I am here.) growing strong
Gemini(twins): June, Air. Examining the self. Dichotomy, duplicity. The mirror and the mask. (You are, too.) partnership/pregnancy
Cancer(crab): July, Water. Defenses, nurturing, sideways problem-solving. (We are.) childbirth/parenthood
Leo(lion): August, Fire. Leadership, marshaling of inner strength and external resources. (We are here.) establish the family
Virgo(virgin): September, Earth. The harvest, abundance as a result of due diligence. (Look what we made.) provide for the family
Libra(scales): October, Air. Justice and equity. Balanced decision making. (We must be fair.) dividing the harvest
Scorpio(scorpion): November, Water. Passion and narrow focus. Permeable boundaries. (I'm inside, you're outside.) looking beyond the family home
Sagittarius(archer): December, Fire. Soldier for a just cause, questing knight. (I must protect.) leaving the home/pursuing the villain
Capricorn(seagoat): January, Earth. Hermitage, gone to ground. Survival, thriving in scarcity. (I'm alone, really.) odyssey
Aquarius(water bearer): February, Air. Talking through a problem, reasoning through feelings. (We're in this together.) counselor
Pisces(fishes): March, Water. Paradox, intriguing dichotomy. Great truths and daydreams. (I am not.) enlightenment/death

Grouped by element:
Fire: Aires, Leo, Sagittarius: I am, I am strong, I can fight.
Earth: Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn: Touching, weighing, hoarding.
Air: Gemini, Libra, Aquarius: Speech, science, communication.
Water: Cancer, Scorpio, Pisces: Maternal, romantic, spiritual.

The spectra: Implied dichotomies of opposing signs, grouped by elements. (Those with * are inherently dichotomous themselves, so get two descriptors.)
Air-Fire: Electricity! Is it even really there?
*Libra-Aires: complex, indirect - simple, direct
Aquarius-Leo: compromise - principles
*Gemini-Sagitarius: mercurial, adaptable - steadfast, hidebound
Water-Earth: Mud. It's really there.
Cancer-Capricorn: caring for others - caring for self
Scorpio-Taurus: anxious creation - peaceful consumption
*Pisces-Virgo: big picture, meaning - details, practicality

I've got no interest in pretending the stars dictate our personalities, but these symbols aren't meant to stand alone. That sun sign is just the starting point, the foundation(id); on top of that we layer the moon sign, the emotional, intuitive self(ego), and the rising sign, the face we present to the world(super ego). Twelve symbols placed into three slots, uni-directional and open to repetition. That's twelve cubed, right? 1,728 possible combinations. A bit too ambitious for a Tuesday afternoon.

Mirror v. Mask

I'm thinking today about the phenomenon of knowing the self through knowing others, or at least attempting to. (Attempting to think about it or attempting to know me through you? Yes.) This idea is huge and sprawling, links naturally to more things than I could fully explain in a lifetime, let alone this afternoon's blog post. There's all of psychology and most of literature, for starters, not to mention every single interpersonal interaction I've ever had. Sociology has a role here (though I'm not entirely comfortable saying that in any situation), and hive/swarm/collective consciousness theories are applicable. Jung and Campbell are pertinent. I should probably do a thorough, historical examination of philosophy. There's a nifty little essay by David Foster Wallace about the role of media in creating consciousness that's very apt. I think there's some art theory on this concept as well, especially as it pertains to portraiture, but my body of knowledge is sadly limited to the liberal arts and so-called social sciences. Oh, biology too, with the mirror neurons and Paul Ekman's overlap between physiology and psychology. I think Darwin had some stuff to say about that as well. Richard Dawkins probably could contribute if he were around (or if I actually got the gumption to read some of his work myself instead of just letting my friends share what they've read. Ooooo, check out that mirror action!)

What got me started on this was a snippet of conversation last night with Clark where I mentioned that I don't like driving, which he hadn't realized, and I tried to explain how it's mostly a fear thing. That got me thinking about how David often talked about fear as a motivating force, usually as a criticism of certain societal trends but occasionally in reference to specific behaviors or individuals. I sometimes thought that was a little hypocritical of him, and then he picked up and moved to California all on his lone wolf lonesome leaving me to eat my (unspoken) words. (Watch out, I feel a big ol' extended metaphor coming! But I think I'll leave it unwritten for now and come back to it another day. Note to self: I have a voice.->expand) But several times since he moved out there he's mentioned the theme of looking for peace and dealing with anxiety.

I've come to realize that what he articulates as anxiety I often refer to as depression. Psychologically speaking, the two are distinct but interrelated, but without a firm grounding in psychology no one can be expected to differentiate consistently. That got me to wondering about the relationship between anxiety and fear. I tend to use them more or less interchangeably, with the primary difference being in scale: fear is bigger. But, is that right? Well, since words have exactly as much power as we collectively give them, I decided (in good academic fashion) to go consult an authority on words. Being a child of my age, that authority was Wikipedia.

"Fear should be distinguished from the related emotional state of anxiety, which typically occurs without any external threat. Additionally, fear is related to the specific behaviors of escape and avoidance, whereas anxiety is the result of threats which are perceived to be uncontrollable or unavoidable."* (I'm not blogger enough to use real footnotes, but the asterisk will do.)

At many times in my life I've avoided driving and social situations far more than is healthy or reasonable, so I suppose that might elevate those two from anxiety to fear, but right now they are both largely unavoidable if I want to be successful, so maybe anxiety is the right word. I'm trying to do more of both, and unsurprisingly they get less scary the more I do them. The "social" fear is mostly about rejection and humiliation, which are subjective experiences that combine the external threat aspect of fear with the uncontrollable aspect of anxiety and wrap it up into one terrifying, overwhelming package. For me, at least. This writing about it is one mask I can put on it to make it less overwhelming for me. For anyone who's reading this and relating, it becomes a mirror.

I like this metaphor! I'll have to explore it some more, but another day. I have driving and socializing to get to. (EEK!)

*Öhman, A. (2000). Fear and anxiety: Evolutionary, cognitive, and clinical perspectives. In M. Lewis & J. M. Haviland-Jones (Eds.). Handbook of emotions. (pp.573–593). New York: The Guilford Press.

a bit of renewed optimism

Maybe more than a bit. Yesterday's prediction held true: that mood seems to have been mostly sleeplessness-induced, and today is much more sunny, if not literally. I didn't manage to stay up very late; I was out by five and woke up for "dinner" at midnight, went back to bed within a half hour and slept through to nine this morning. That's sure to make falling asleep tonight a bit harder, but I've been out and about for most of the day, saw a bunch of people on campus and had lunch with several other ling undergrads. I'm feeling like I'm in the right place again, and it's one of my favorite feelings. At lunch Josh and I were talking about the neighborhood around campus, and though we would both like to be done with school by the end of this summer, we tossed out the idea of finding a two bedroom to share if we end up stuck here longer than that. I'm not too sure how I'd feel about having a roommate again after all this time, but he's mellow and kind and loves to cook, and we have similarly unhealthy sleeping schedules so ideally we would be well-equipped to be patient and compassionate about not making too much noise. It's nowhere near a sure thing, but it's an encouraging thought that even if my long-terms plans don't pan out, I could still find very good things here in town.

On the bus ride home I listened to a TTBOOK podcast about the National Book Award runners-up, and they had some excellent things to say about being a good writer. I'll probably listen to this one again, but the bits that stuck out the first time through were "my readers are much cleverer than me" and "when I'm writing about the ineffable, I find the I must be very precise with the physical details." (The last one is likely a paraphrase; I was getting off the bus and had trouble following each word.) I'm enjoying thinking about being a better writer and being a better person, and how it's hard to do one without the other, for me at least.

Also: I'm taking a creative writing class this semester, advanced poetry, so all this literary energy of mine will double up and earn me some credits. I needed an upper-level elective anyway, and I'm pretty excited about it.

new(ish) year's resolution

I'm not a big fan of the big, formal new year's resolution; so often it's just a way for people to feel disappointed in themselves by mid-February. All the same, I've spent this winter thinking quite a bit about how to change my life for the better, how to make myself happier and more productive. This has been coming for a while, but I just figured out tonight how to articulate what I want to do differently.

From here on out, I want to try to treat myself the way I treat the people I love. Kind of a reverse golden rule I guess; would that be a lead rule? It is kinda heavy. (Oh, man, I crack me up.)

So that's a nice, simple little sentence, but what does it mean? I'll have to work it out as I go, but so far I've got some pretty simple, basic things that I think might make a big difference. I always like to cook and clean for the people I care about. I have no idea how many hours I've spent in David's kitchen, but it was certainly more often his than mine in the years he lived here. Most often I was washing his dishes while, back at my place, there was a sad, dirty, cramped little kitchen in need of my attention. So, we'll start with the basics: For the rest of January, I'm going to take care of my home as thought there were someone else living here, someone I loved and wanted to impress. (Man, subjunctive tense is a bear, but I kinda want to bring it back after writing sentences like that!) Keep the kitchen clean, vacuum more often, take care of the houseplants, hang the laundry as soon as it's washed, all those things I let slide when I don't feel good. Also, I'm going to spend more time cooking tasty, nutritious food. This is something I'm very good at doing, even on a budget, but so often I don't bother when it's just me. So, I'll try to focus on those two, cooking and cleaning, for the next fifteen days and see how I do.

I'll re-evaluate in February and see how I'm doing. If I've managed those with any regularity, maybe I'll be ready to add something new. Or maybe I'll just congratulate myself. Possibly I'll need to remind myself that in the middle of January I thought it was a really good idea, and I should try a bit harder to make it happen. We'll just have to see.

Resolved: I deserve to be treated well, even by me. Especially by me.

Be brave, Kari

This idea is in its absolute infancy; I haven't even asked anybody about couch surfing or their plans or any of that, haven't even checked my budget. But I have a very bad habit of doing the safe, easy thing and abandoning ideas like this in their absolute infancy. So, in an effort to goad myself in to being brave and trying new things:


View Spring Break? in a larger map

**As of 7pm, got confirmation from David and left a voicemail for Matt. Tomorrow: call Karen and take a closer look at this spring's budget.

At least I have my health

It's surprisingly nice to say that with sincerity. After nearly two weeks of being largely house-bound (not to mention a solid week of being quite nearly bed-ridden), it feels amazing just to shave my legs and do the dishes. This winter has been pretty hard so far, with lots of twists and upsets and some not-inconsequential heartbreak, and I've had plenty of time with nothing better to do than think about all of it. I spent a good chunk of that time in the altered consciousness of a high fever, so my musings haven't always been the most lucid, but I have managed to keep myself from melancholy and self-pity more often than I did through most of the fall. All in all, I think I can actually count this particular bout of pneumonia as a blessing. Which is weird.

I had the thought today that the last couple weeks have been about getting a taste of the things I've longed for, then having them stripped away, along with my ability to do even the simplest things for myself. It's made me poignantly grateful for every tiny bit of good that does come my way. It seems to me today that maybe I needed to have everything stripped away for just a bit, to be laid even lower than the self-pity I'm so habituated to. It means that as I get things back (like, for instance, the energy for basic hygiene) I can take joy in the ability, instead of lamenting the responsibility. I know this rush of gratitude and euphoria won't last; this sort of feeling is a sprinter, and shouldn't be counted on for the long haul. But right now I've got a chance to build some new, better habits and focus my thoughts in new, possibly healthier and more helpful directions.

I didn't live up to my own expectations last fall. In fact, I failed in exactly the way I had been so afraid I would if I took the risk and went back to school full time. And the world didn't fall apart, and the people I respect haven't written me off as a failure. (Well, not all of them anyway, but I'm not in the mood to dwell on that just at the moment.) Furthermore, I did get some other things done. I made a bunch of new friends, something I was very worried I wouldn't be able to do, and I think a couple of them are the quality of people I really, really want in my life. I put real, concentrated effort into my poetry, hours at a time and often several times a week, and the work shows. I'm seriously considering cleaning up a couple pieces for the NT Review, and maybe, just maybe, putting together a chap book and sending it to a couple periodicals. I mean, it'll only cost me a stamp or two, right? Why not?

And I've grown my understanding of social interaction as much in the past three months as in the year previous to that, possibly much more. Maybe it's more helpful to say that all the seeds that Sam and David and I had been planting in my psyche over the past several years have suddenly had an amazing growing season. It's been hard to deal with in a lot of ways. Actual compassion and insight aren't always gentle, easy things. They often mean accepting that people just don't fit together, or aren't giving each other anything good, and no one is at fault and no one is to blame, but everyone is hurting all the same. That part isn't so fun. But recognizing it sooner can only make me a happier, healthier person, not to mention a better friend. This is why I say understanding of social interaction and not just social skills, but really neither of those really captures what I'm getting at here. Awareness and self-possession have a lot to do with it, as do social grace and confidence.

And the most amazing thing to me is that all that interpersonal stuff, the social skills I've agonized over and the compassion I've always been burdened with/lauded for/confused by... it's the exact same thing that will make me a better writer. Because it's all about the exchange of information between human beings, and writing is just a narrow, focused version of the same.

In truth, I'm mostly communicating with myself right now. That's what I created this space for, after all. And there are a handful of people who have access to these words and will know that they're mine, and I'm aware of those individuals as I type, as I read through to make sure this is lucid and not riddled with typos. Is Lain still following after my two year hiatus? Has David finally decided to come check all of this out? Will Jacob or Laura have anything to say in response to all this? There is some potential for inter-personal exchange here, and that's what motivates me to get this all down instead of letting all these ideas chase themselves around my head all night. I think in the long run, though, the real value will be in having a snapshot of where my thoughts were running in the first few days of 2010, as I waited for my body to heal and my heart to... Huh.

What am I waiting for my heart to do? Heal? Be happy? Just pick itself up by the bootstraps and miraculously feel happy about the same things that have made me sad for so long? I would very much like to be ready to start trusting again, but that's a complicated, scary thing. I'm becoming more aware of my tendency to distrust, and that can only be helpful. Am I waiting to stop loving David? I hope not, because that would be a fairly stupid thing to do, seeing as I don't particularly want to. Maybe what I'm waiting for is the knowledge that there's room in my heart for new things and people, and that it won't be a betrayal to the people I've loved in the past when I start to move on. That he's not betraying me by moving on himself.

Well. This ended somewhere very different than where it started. I'm fairly certain that if I try to continue on from that last thought I'll circle back around to melancholy, and frankly I'm just not interested in that. I love him and I miss him, but there's a hell of a lot more to me and my life than those two little facts. What else? See above.

compassion

Compassion for others. Compassion for self. In equal measure, as consistently as possible.

It really is as simple as that. I think I'm just starting to get a feel for what this balancing act feels like when it's done right.

Just another metaphor

I've been doing some thinking today, rehashing old thoughts in maybe a new way, and it felt for a while there like they were something productive, something to actually make me happier and snap me out of my funk. They go in circles, so it's hard to type them out.

Feminism is just a metaphor, like any other. It doesn't matter whether it's objectively true in any way, just that it feels true to me. And, in my version of feminism, the patriarchy isn't the villain; it's the narrator. Women are the villains, and the victims, and the cast of heroes is made up almost exclusively of men. Doesn't this explain so much about me, if not our world? I don't let myself think of myself as anything but a victim or a villain; if I'm not sitting lost and lonely, brokenhearted over the things I can't change, I must be doing something wrong, so I feel guilty. How horrifying is that? But it's true. I feel guilty all the time, almost no matter what I'm doing. If I'm not miserable, I feel guilty for it.

I blame too much on my mother, I know, and I don't have as much compassion for her as I would like. Maybe blaming her for this, though, is the key to that compassion. She taught me to think this way, not because she was a cruel and evil person (the villain of the piece), but because it was all she knew herself. We teach our children no more and no less than what we truly believe ourselves, right? I remember very clearly the first time I failed a class. It was ninth grade, and I finally got to march with the band in a competition for the first time. I was no good, but I was excited about it all the same, and I felt good and strong and proud in my silly purple uniform. But I failed biology, so I was ineligible and couldn't go to competition, and I was crushed for weeks. I remember one night we were eating dinner at the table (it must have been a holiday or something), and I couldn't stop crying over my food. No one had much sympathy, and when they told me it wasn't as big a deal as I was making it, I tried to explain: my whole life was made up of school, where I was awkward and miserable, and home, where everyone was always so angry. But in band, I got to be proud of myself and have fun. It was the only fun thing in my whole day. I don't remember the words I used, but I don't think I'll ever forget my mother's reaction. She slammed down the big white ceramic bowl, the one we mostly used for mashed potatoes, glared at me, and said "Welcome to adulthood." I ran to my room and cried myself to sleep, totally oblivious to the irony.

Yeah, it's a terrible story. I should have some compassion for that girl on the cusp of adulthood, being told that the entire rest of her life will be all responsibility and sadness. But more than that, right now I have some compassion for that angry, tired woman with the bowl of mashed potatoes she probably didn't want to make. She honestly believed, still does believe, that being an adult means doing what needs to be done, and having not one ounce of joy or pride or confidence.

When I promise myself that I won't become my mother, this is the moment I need to remember. It's one of the most important lessons she ever taught me, and one I desperately need to unlearn.

I spend so much time ashamed that nothing really feels good to me except being around other people, so ashamed that it consumes my thoughts when I'm alone and I'm not just lonely, I'm overwhelmed by shame and self hate. Of course I'm alone, who would want to be around me, I have no confidence or strength, nothing to draw people to me. And the worst part is, there's some tiny kernel of truth in that (I'm not going to meet new people sitting alone in my apartment), so it's very easy to convince myself that it's the defining truth of my existence.

But it's not. So the only thing that brings me happiness right now is other people? Fine. I'm going to delight in other people, and I'm not going to apologize to anybody for it, not even myself. I'll see David on Thursday and Lain on Friday, and this will be the highlight of my winter. I'm going to stop being ashamed of that, and start acting like it's true. I'm going to clean this apartment, top to bottom, because even if it's kinda plain and cramped with old, ugly furniture, it can at least be clean. I can fill it up with smells of cookies and citrus and sandalwood, make it warm and inviting, and be proud to invite people in and make them feel welcomed and calm.

I'm going to keep repeating to myself things people have said to me that I find flattering, but let myself believe them for once. Livvy says I've got a skill for comforting people who are down, taking care of them with my picnics of fruit and cheese and my sweet-smelling sugar scrubs. I'm going to clean out the fridge of all the sad, half-rotten things I haven't thrown out, fill it back up with fresh fruit and the tastiest cheeses I can afford, stock up on the ingredients for the things I cook best. David used to tell me I was beautiful, that he sometimes couldn't resist me even when he was trying. So I'll wear my favorite sweaters, style my hair and put on some makeup, not because I need it but because it makes me feel more confident, and I will blow him away with how good I look, maybe even make him regret that I'm not even a little bit his anymore. And if that makes him uncomfortable and he leaves right away, so be it. I don't want to spend one more second with him apologizing for myself. I've done more than enough of that already.

Will this mood last? Will I be able to hold on to this confidence and self-possession for the next three days and actually get all of these things done? I don't see why not. Because the one thing that always brings me joy is seeing the people I care about, and I'm about to see two of them who live very far away. As long as I keep that in mind, I think I can also find some joy in scrubbing the floor and folding my laundry.

And if not? It's all still true. Metaphors work because they're true.

We all know how I feel about hope, right?

I think maybe, just maybe, I see the pieces starting to fall into place, and soon enough I'll remember that sense of resolution, that particular self-possession and self-control it took me so long to cultivate.

I feel like myself today. And I did the day before yesterday as well. And, I think, several times over the last week. That's a strange, vaguely agrammatical thing to say, but my overarching aversion to optimism won't allow me to clarify it much more, even in my own mind.

I'm looking forward to the holidays, confident that I will see people I love and that they will be happy to see me. I honestly can't say whether or not that's happened before (my confidence, of course, being the thing which is so often lacking). There will be hugs and laughter and long nights with nothing better to do than talk until the sun comes up. If I'm perfectly honest with myself, I can't imagine anything better than that.

Can you hear me smiling, internets?

"When love beckons to you, follow him, though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you, yield to him, though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you, believe in him, though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

"For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning. Even as he ascends to your height and caresses you tenderest branches that quiver in the sun, so shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

"Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself. He threshes you to make you naked. He sifts you to free you from your husks. He grinds you to whiteness. He kneads you until you are pliant; and then he assigns you to his sacred fire that you may become sacred bread for the sacred feast.

"All these things love shall do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of life's heart.

"But if in your fear you would seek only love's peace and love's pleasure, then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love's threshing-floor, into the seasonless world where you will laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.

"Love gives naught but itself and takes not but from itself. Love possesses not, nor would it be possessed; for love is sufficient unto love.

"And think not to direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

"Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if in your love you must have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at noon and meditate on love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise on your lips."

-Kahlil Gibran, "On Love"

When I first found this, more than ten years ago, I spent months reading it constantly, compulsively, and I couldn't tell whether it was shaping my thoughts or articulating things I had been thinking all along. I realized tonight that I couldn't remember any more how it went, and pulled it off the shelf for the first time in at least four years. It's not as poetic as I remember, but every bit as powerful. I am convicted and humbled and encouraged. I still don't love like I want to, and I probably never will, and I love so much better now than ten years ago.

I had forgotten that this pain, right now, is nothing to fear or to be ashamed of. This is the pain of knowing my own heart, of too much tenderness, of loving as best I can. There's no reason to keep wishing it away.