Twenty nineteen

How is it 2019? In my head it is around 1999–I can’t keep track of all these damn years.

I decided to set a few coking goals this year: things I have always wanted to make, things I haven’t made in a long time. I would like to spend more time cooking for fun as opposed to daily survival.

The list so far (in no particular order):

• Strawberry & raspberry pie
• Key lime pie
• French onion soup
• 1 loaf of bread of any kind
• Shaking beef from Slanted Door in San Francisco
• Baked lemon pudding with wild blueberry sauce
• Fresh spring rolls
• Pork and pineapple fried rice
• 1 cheese cake of any kind
• Hold the 2nd annual Christmas Cookie Baking Extravaganza with Jen
• Use my kitchen mandolin for ANYthing

Praise you

You have no idea I'm writing this.  In fact, it's entirely possible you'll never read it unless I purposefully send you to this blog entry.  We have been together nearly 1 3/4 years, and god knows we have had some turbulent times when I didn't think we could or would make it.  We are working so hard on our relationship because we love each other and we want to make it.  I try to make a point of telling you the things I appreciate about you, and here are some things that I am incredibly grateful for that you deserve to hear.  I probably couldn't say them aloud without my voice breaking.

1.  When I make something for you to eat, be it a can of soup or a stew I worked on for hours, you never fail to earnestly thank me for it.

2.  Every single day you are at work you call me to hear my voice, even just for a minute.

3.  You love my birdies and are good to them.

4.  Nearly every day you tell me that I am beautiful, even if I just woke up and I know perfectly well my hair is sticking out in all directions.

5.  After we lost our first baby and I was devastated, I was angry at everything.  Even when I was irrationally furious with you for having a healthy child when I did not, you didn't get mad at me.  You held me.

6.  You pour me a cup of coffee every morning even though I am perfectly capable of doing it myself.

7.  When you taste something delicious, your first reaction is to share it with me.

8.  You tell me your dreams when you wake up, and you listen to mine.

9.  Sometimes you fall asleep holding my hand.

10.  You never make me feel bad for the seemingly endless things I feel unable to do at the moment.  Instead, you reassure me and walk around all the things left undone.  This is a constant source of relief.

- end of sap -

Yesterday was a better day.

The sun was shining and the sky was blue.
We listened to a lot of Wham! at my urging.
I received a beautiful card and picture from my dear friend Becky and her daughter Amiya.
I shaved my legs for the first time in, oh...maybe it's better I don't tell you how long.
I worked on wading through the emails I've gotten from friends and loved ones in order to respond to them.
I even felt like talking some shit on Facebook.
I made a nice dinner.
I got some sleep.
Today is TBD, but I am out of bed drinking coffee and feeding parrots their treats.

A few things in no particular order

1. Brooklyn. Huh. I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

2. Lately I have been worrying that I am going to have twins. This is followed by worries that I will have no baby at all. I'd really like to relax about this stuff. I'll be happy with just one healthy one.

3. My friend and her boyfriend are moving to Portland, and I am sad. I haven't gotten to hang out with them for a couple of months, but they're a lot of fun and they live in my neighborhood and I will really miss knowing they're nearby. I was so eager to see them off, apparently, that I showed up for their going away party tonight a total of 10 days early. (Idiot.) Since I was all made up and at the bar, I pulled up a barstool, ordered a cranberry juice, and chatted with a few folks before turning around and going home.

4. At about 1am, I lay in bed thinking about my grandparents. This actually happens quite a lot. I was the first grandchild, and I was remembering how my grandmother always told me that after I'd spent the night with them as a baby, my grandpa would keep my tiny undershirts under his pillow so he could smell me when I was away. I'm not sure anyone has ever loved me so much before or since. I miss my grandparents so intensely that at least once a week I cry for them. I think I might always.

5. On Thursday, I am most likely going to meet Ivan's mother for the first time. I am nervous about this. She was incredibly kind to me when I wrote to her a couple of weeks ago.

6. My erratic sleep habits are really starting to become a problem. I have a doctor appointment later in the week that I really think may help me with that.

Things that currently make me cry

At the moment it seems like I am not QUITE as weepy as I was. There are a couple of themes to my tears, though, and they are coming most regularly when I think/hear about or see these things:

- people who feel lonely
- hungry, abused donkeys
- the very existence of the word "miscarriage"
- running out of my favorite orange juice

Despite all the delicious mustards out there, yellow is still my favorite.

At 8 weeks of pregnancy, my books tell me that Fetus Marie is now the size of a pinto bean. Before she was a blueberry. Next week she'll be a ripe green olive. It's starting to seem unsettling to compare her to food so much. Especially food that sounds delicious! (I say this as I lick mustard off my finger. Not sure why you should know that, but there it is.)

Generally, I find the pregnancy books I ordered to be fairly dull and not particularly well-written. One part I do enjoy is the "Dad Tips" in Your Pregnancy Week by Week. The authors advise expectant fathers regularly to:

- bring home flowers for no reason
- buy a present for your partner and the baby
- bring home her favorite dinner, or cook it yourself

Generally, they seem to be saying "Now that you've knocked her up, you better kiss her ass every chance you get." I am a fan of this advice, even if it is rather patronizing.

Fortunately Ivan is cooking dinner as we speak.

Compliments and thank yous

I think that compliment-giving is a lost art. Receiving them may be as well. I would like to write down some compliments for things folks have done for me recently. The fact that you likely won't know who they are is immaterial.

1. Cricket: you make me laugh when you stick your butt feathers up in the air and dig upside down while grunting. Thank you for being a fool.

2. Security guard at DeLano's at 2am Saturday morning: It was really impressive the way you recognized me in my pajamas with my hair swirling in a tornado around my head while I drank Nyquil from the bottle at the cash register. It really makes me happy to know that that moment is immortalized in someone else's mind forever, in case I ever just want to pretend like it didn't happen.

3. Mom: Thanks for letting me know your boyfriend's penis is 6 inches long. Really. There are no words.

4. Suzie: You are the most enthusiastic steak-finger maker in the history of the world, and I absolutely adore it.

5. Ivan: Thank you for your thoroughness. Holy mother of god.

6. Geico insurance agent: I really liked the way you described in great detail how Mucinex works. Nothing was left to the imagination, and I am grateful for that.

7. Michelle: It makes my day when you eagerly trot back to tell me about the presence of cheesecake, strawberries, tuna sandwiches, and any number of other scrumptious treats that make their way to our desk in the lobby at work. It's nice of you to think of sharing first and foremost.

8. Dude in the cube on the other side of the wall: I've never seen you, but I feel like I know you intimately. I know you have a rash on your inner thigh, are grumpy in the mornings, and like all things Spanish. Thanks for making me feel a part of your life.

Adventures in psychotherapy

Today two interesting things happened.

1. I was invited for another interview at UCSF (for a different job than the first interview). This is tremendously good news. The interview is Monday. Enough said.

2. I had my first psychotherapy appointment with Dr. J, and she was lovely. Her office was warm and inviting, with a big cushy couch and throw pillows and blankets and windows filled with sunlight.

I always find the first therapy appointment to be a little awkward, because a) you're meeting a stranger for the purpose of telling him/her the most intimate details of your life and thoughts and behaviors, and b) I never know how to begin. Do I start with the junk in my mind today? Do I immediately go way back to the beginning with, "So I was born..." or Do I offer a simple, "I'm fucked in the head. Please help?" I try to be up front about this uncertainty by admitting my discomfort to the therapist. Dr. J. was lovely and guided me by starting with simple and then increasingly deeper questions.

What is it about telling my story that makes me ball like a baby immediately? I mean, I've told it before. I'm years removed from these events. I'm in a safe place in the middle of the day. But I gush like a dam burst in me.

Dr. J. is more spiritual than what I'm used to, and I have to work actively to keep an open mind. I mean, I'm here for the purpose of eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) therapy, which sounds kooky enough as it is--so I might as well go with the flow. We didn't start any EMDR today, as she said we needed to get to know each other and develop some trust between us first. That makes sense. We spent some time having me connect with different parts of my body mentally and physically, and feeling my "soul space." (I know how it sounds, but I'm willing to try.) I realized from this experience that I'm incredibly out of touch with my body and my mind is way too analytical. I need to relax and loosen up more. I could use some help with that in so many ways.

Whether it was the crying or the compassionate ear or the soul space, I felt relaxed and much more peaceful when I left.

My homework assignments are these:

1. Practice hugging myself. Literally.

2. Rub my chest to take the positive energy out of my heart and then rub my bellybutton to transfer it to the source of my sadness.

3. Brace my hands against the back of my head and feel the force of my inner strength to survive anything I encounter.

4. Do a few sweet things for myself, such as rubbing luxurious cream on my body.

Stop laughing.

Haves and have nots

Have:

- professional clothes
- kick-ass resume
- clean laundry
- ice cream fix
- pocket full o' kryptonite
- 42 exams to grade


Need:

- new job
- toilet paper
- batteries

Want:

- trip to a tropical destination
- hugs and kisses
- scooter

50 things you can control

“Why worry about things you can’t control when you can keep yourself busy controlling the things that depend on you?” ~Unknown

I am a worrier. I fret and pace and ruminate and wonder "what if?" I worry about things that haven't happened in order to keep them at bay. I worry about things that have happened to keep them from getting any worse or happening again.

This week I have been in overdrive.

So when I found this list of "50 things you can control" I was intrigued. Some of them kind of make me want to barf (i.e., #1 feels a little too much like blowing sunshine up one's arse). Others really resonate with me (see the ones with the asterisks), because I have been bad at them of late. Take #13, for example. At least 3 times in the last week I have exited a conversation prematurely because I felt hurt or rejected, and I didn't know how to continue. At least once it led to confusion on the part of the other person, and then I agonized over what an idiot I was.

Then there is #3 and #29 which--for me--go together like peas in a pod. I tend to run on the "too honest" side--telling people things they don't even want to know. Telling people things that they may, in fact, be better not knowing. This week I have been struggling with that, too. My tongue has twisted; my thoughts got choked in my mouth; I have kept silent. It hasn't felt good.

I have faltered on giving the benefit of a doubt (#8). I interpreted every situation in the most negative way possible (#9). I have been hideous to myself in my head (#14). I stopped saying "I love you," because it felt unwelcome (#49).

Wow. I'm not very good at all this.

1. How many times you smile today.
2. How much effort you exert at work.
*3. Your level of honesty.
4. How well you prepare.
5. How you act on your feelings.
6. How often you say “thank you.”
7. When you pull out your wallet for luxuries.
*8. Whether or not you give someone the benefit of the doubt.
*9. How you interpret situations.
10. Whether or not you compete with people around you.
11. How often you notice and appreciate small acts of kindness—they’re everywhere!
12. Whether you listen or wait to talk.
*13. When you walk away from a conversation.
*14. How nice you are to yourself in your head.
15. Whether you think positive or negative thoughts.
16. Whether or not you form expectations of people.
17. The type of food you eat.
18. When you answer someone’s question—or email or call.
19. How much time you spend worrying.
*20. How many new things you try.
21. How much exercise you get.
22. How many times you swear in traffic.
23. Whether or not you plan for the weather.
24. How much time you spend trying to convince people you’re right.
*25. How often you think about your past.
26. How many negative articles you read.
27. The attention you give to your loved ones when you see them.
28. How much you enjoy the things you have right now.
*29. Whether or not you communicate something that’s on your mind.
30. How clean or uncluttered you keep your space.
31. What books you read.
32. How well you network at social events.
33. How deeply you breathe when you experience stress.
34. How many times you admit you don’t know something—and then learn something new.
35. How often you use your influence to help people instead of focusing on building your influence.
36. When you ask for help.
37. Which commitments you keep and cancel.
38. How many risks you take.
39. How creative/innovative you are in your thinking.
*40. How clear you are when you explain your thoughts.
41. Whether you formulate a new plan or act on your existing one.
42. How much information you get before you make a decision.
43. How much information you share with people.
44. Whether you smoke or drink (unless you’re an alcoholic, in which case I am not qualified to offer you advice.)
45. Whether or not you judge other people.
46. Whether you smell good or bad (unless you have some strange resistance to soap and deodorant).
47. How much of what other people say you believe.
48. How quickly you try again after you fall.
*49. How many times you say “I love you.”
50. How much rest you get at night.

Musings

This blog has generated a bit of a stir.

A couple things before I go on:

1. This is my journal. You don't have to read it.
2. When I said I was thinking about moving I meant what I said. Thinking about it.
3. If you work with me and we are not friends and you read this I think it's really inappropriate. Especially if you are management. Ahem.

Anyway.

I'm trying to remember how it felt when I knew it was time to leave Richmond and come to San Francisco. I had been there for 6 years and I was itching for change. It felt like I had learned the things that I needed to learn there and I wanted to move on. I was restless and pent up and pacing. It's weird, because that's not really what I'm feeling right now.

I feel defeated and tired. Really fucking tired.

People have asked me where I would go. I'd probably start with North Carolina, but I think realistically I would end up in Richmond again. I know. That sounds weird after I described being ready to leave, huh? It's just that the times I have returned to Richmond since I have been here, I have felt absolute joy. When I feel homesick, it is for Richmond. When I hear a weather report or a news story about Richmond, I feel a pang. When a friend mentions traveling to or being in Richmond, I am incredibly jealous. I miss it. I miss Judith and Amber and Dave and the folks I used to work with. I think it's the closest thing to "home" I ever felt.

I don't know.

The last time I made this decision it was a natural transition period in my life. Plus, I had someone to go with. This time I have neither going for me. Can I do it again? I don't know. I am considering it seriously enough that I told my friends here. I promised Nannette that before I made the decision I would work on getting to a mentally healthier place.

I am working on that.

Tallies

Christmas festivities included:

- As previously reported, champagne, sleeping pills (and, hence, sleep)

- Counting the number of times I kissed beaks today (like, 10)

- Vietnamese spring rolls (4)

- Shaving my legs as my gift to myself (took 2 razors! Fuck.)

- Traveling between three grocery stores at 12:15am trying to do my grocery shopping. Number of grocery stores closed = 3

- Drinking at a local dive in order to be around people (number of drinks = 4)

- Observing folks playing frisbee in the street in my neighborhood (3)

- Tallying the types of candy my mom sent me in my stocking (7)

- Watching popes being knocked down by crazy women (1)

- Playing scrabble online with Facebook friends (4)

- Attempting to make a purchase at local pharmacies that had been robbed (1)

- Noting a live Christmas tree that was already thrown out on the sidewalk (1)

- Singing "Crimson and Clover" while driving myself around town looking at Christmas lights (number of times sung approximately = 6 1/2)

- Counting the number of times spent feeling sorry for myself for being alone at Christmas (842)

Personal history

Holy mother of god.

I spent some time cleaning out my email inbox and I feel like I've relived the last 3 years of my life in about one hour. I should also add that the last 3 years of my life have been chock-full of physical and emotional turmoil.

I found:

Emails from, like, every book club event I've ever attended.
Messages from various (ill-advised) dates I've gone on about where/when to meet up.
Emails I sent to myself when I was trying not to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge.
Emails from C.
Emails regarding my research on moving to Barcelona and finding work.
Notifications of and condolences for the deaths of various friends and family members.
Emails regarding job search resources from when I finished my postdoc.
Announcements of 6 Birds Cards.
Messages from friends who--for whatever reason--are no longer in my life.
Drafts of writings I did during turbulent times.
Etc.

2010 has to be better. It just has to be.

All this grateful (and ungrateful) business

Several people I know are naming something they're grateful for on Facebook every day until Thanksgiving. Even though these are friends of mine and very lovely people, this practice makes me a little nauseous. Probably because I am cranky and cantankerous and bitter and jaded.

Still.

I thought I'd do my own version here. I wanted my version to include a lament about the things I am ungrateful for, too.

Please excuse any sap that may follow, and if you think it will nauseate you too much, you might want to take a rain check on this blog entry.

Things I am grateful for:

- Friends I can call when I’m sitting in my car for hours because I don’t know where to go.

- Little birdie belly feathers.

- Getting a teaching job for the spring semester because I will be much less broke in the months to come.

- My grandparents and my aunt, without whom I would probably be dead, in prison, or on crack. Possibly all three.

- Nannette. For being my friend during the most challenging years of my life thus far, even when it was hard for her, and for talking sense into me on one very dark evening. Without her I would have left San Francisco behind already.

- Cindy. For knowing me almost better than I know myself; for being insane in nearly identical ways to myself (and I say that with love), for listening to me at times when I am nearly incoherent, and for being my first grown up best friend.

- Christopher. For loving me when I was unable to love myself.

- My many friends at work who make each day Monday through Friday more bearable, who put up with me dropping into their offices when I need a break, and without whom I would have taken a bazooka to the joint. Ruben, Shayna, Wendi, Laurie, Tamara, Jodi, John, Peggy, and Diana: I love you to pieces.

- For a free washer and dryer in my building. SCORE!

- For Yan, Patrick, Scott, Brian, Amber & Suzie, Judith, Amber, Shannon, Dave, Kelli, Jenny, Tony, Lauren, and Cyrano for taking me out, getting me drunk, calling me, texting me, sending me sweet packages, going to dinner with me, inviting me to their parties, visiting me in the hospital, and letting me crash at their houses even if I was far away (mentally or physically), drank too much, didn't call back, was doped up on morphine, and/or didn't show up.

- Danita and Nan, for treating me as part of the family no matter what.

- The color green for adorning my walls, pants, shoes, umbrellas, and coats and for cheering me up in the most ridiculous and random ways.

- The funniest, weirdest, and most thoughtful book club in the history of the world.


Things I am not grateful for:

- Several days without antidepressants because I am totally broke.

- Four parking tickets waiting to be paid.

- E. for making up his mind, J.H. for not being in the right mental space at the right time, P. for breaking my heart, and J.T. for what amounted to persistent booty calls.

- A very specific person whom I see five days a week who makes me distinctly unhappy, treats me like I am stupid and incompetent, has unreasonable expectations, seems to always suspect that I have or am about to screw her over, and blames me for what feels like everything.

- C.J.B. for leaving without saying goodbye and re-smashing my heart into itty bitty pieces.

- The raccoon fight club that meets nightly behind my house.

My 43 things

There is a website called www.43things.com where you can make a list of goals for yourself, share them with others, meet people with the same goals, assess your progress, etc. It's kind of fun.

I just came across my list again and thought I'd share it. I've actually done four of these now, although I cannot say which ones...

take a last-minute trip somewhere (anywhere)
go somewhere naked under a trench-coat
learn Spanish
swim in the Blue Grotto
figure out where my home is
publish a short story
go to the cafe in Prague where you throw stale rolls at people
take singing lessons
go hang-gliding
wave from such great heights
see a fjord in Norway
establish a more consistent sleep schedule
move away from it
treat myself to some Brown Sugar Body Polish
make a chocolate souffle
go easier on myself
record my dreams more often
take a hot air balloon ride
drink another lemon freeze in Capri
be able to smell my grandmother's house again
get one of my postcard secrets on the PostSecret website
drink more water
visit Kyoto
feed fish from my bungalow above the water in Fiji
stop letting fear guide my decisions
learn to make great hot rolls
visit the Red Square in Moscow
stop censoring what I say
see the northern lights
make a little personalized box
keep all the little lists I stuff in my bags and pockets
put my blow-torch to good use
get better at de-seeding pomegranates by spanking them
remember that I still have the capacity to surprise myself

Instructions

Dave's instructions for the "Mac 'n' Cheese Off" our book club is having while in Tahoe next month:

Mac 'n' cheese contest:

1) Make mac 'n' cheese
2) Eat mac 'n' cheese
3) Discuss mac 'n' cheese, potentially coming up with a favorite
4) Award prizes

All recipes must contain: 1) macaroni; 2) cheese. Any and all additions to the big two are acceptable.

Questions?

10 things that are true.

1. It means a lot that she still writes to me.
2. I can't open that box.
3. I tried to take care of you.
4. I didn't take care of myself.
5. I miss having a grandpa.
6. She inspired me to sign up.
7. I am intimidated by the suddenness.
8. I can't stop imagining horrific crashes of cars and planes when I drive.
9. She walked across the bridge with me to help me feel less afraid.
10. French onion Sun Chips are best.

You do, you have, you are.

You take trips in your mind.

You get crushes on cities the way others do on people.

You've saved that card for years, hoping for someone to give it to.

You will never say those particular words to another living soul.

You write all over your walls. And body.

Your hands still remember. And they refuse to forget.

You're trying to walk a fine line.

You do it to comfort yourself.

You long to do something more constructive with tears.

You're looking for a way out.

You don't actually need to know.

You look up to her.

You're closer than you've ever been.

My nose isn't that big. (It looks nothing like me.)

First lines

I did a fun little writing exercise where I came up with the first lines of stories. They may or may not develop into actual stories, but I really enjoyed doing this.

Being my mother’s daughter has resulted in acquired sleuthing skills over the years. There was always a need to figure out what really happened, as her take on the most mundane of events changed dramatically on a dime.

For much of my life I’ve felt the need to have a back-up plan.

My mother saved her happiness for other things.

I was a sorry girl the day my grandpa decided to talk to me about sex.

I picked up the crumbs of advice my uncles dropped like a hungry baby bird.

When I was little I took great pleasure in counting and ordering things. This included everything from books to records to boogers.

You did, you had, you were.

You ate green apples.

You wanted to explore.

You took for granted the grass beneath your feet.

You stood for hours.

You peed in your snow suit.

You spilled the beans.

You petted the squirrel.

You told him, "No."

You threw rocks.

You hid your face and peered out from between your fingers.

You slid down the stairs.

You tried on her lingerie to imagine what you would look like as a woman.

You pretended your hands were your friends.

I dreamed about how it felt when my feet left the platform.
I dreamed of the sound my back made when it broke.
I dreamed I was a little girl in my grandpa's arms.
I dreamed of you.