Hey! I haven't been around for a while, but there are a few reasons for that. I have been having horrific headaches, and a couple of mood bobbles and when I have had the energy to blog, I blog on a support site for the crazies.
When I just feel like splatting words onto a page, as a writing exercise, I have been using 750words.com. A great place to write garbage safely. I still fixate on myself, too much, I need to be more conscious of having an idea or topic upon which to riff.
So with all the writing I was doing here in December, followed by my spreading my writing efforts on other websites, and the headaches, I have been neglecting this blog.
Well, I hope to both get back into the "What I wore," and thrift shop finds. I do believe I haven't shown you some of my final finds before this total collapse of my health. Not to mention general the discussions about body image and BP illness. I can sense it will be coming soon....
Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
Showing posts with label memoir. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Monday, December 27, 2010
Sight Seeing: Prompts 22, 23, 24 #reverb10
Hi all! I have been sick a lot this month, so I am crazy busy trying to get these prompts done. Sorry if parts of the next few blog posts are garbled. We're in the stretch!
Dec. 22: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel this year? -Tara Hunt
In 2010, I travelled almost exclusively by Prius, with the exception of about 200 miles. There was a cab ride back from the airport in January. My friend gave me a lift to my first post-op appointment for my foot. A few van rides and cab rides back and forth between my car dealership and my home. A bike ride to go pick up the Prius from the dealership. And finally, a tow truck, that carried my dead Prius to a Eugene Toyota Dealership (yes, another dealership).
I only travelled a little this year. In January, I made a brief trip back to my hometown, Pittsburgh, to spend time with my parents, sisters, and niece. The next travel of any sort was the Oregon Country Fair, in July. I drove myself up and back in two day increments, spending the night in Yreka on the northern drive, and Corning on the southern one.
In August, after my husband was offered a great job after almost 11 months of unemployment, we took a short trip to Lassen Volcanic National Park. While we had to cut our visit short, the reason for this is going to make me jump to the prompt after the next one. Don't worry, I'll get back to the one I skipped over.
******************************
Dec. 24: Everything's OK. What was the best moment that could? serve as proof that everything is going to be alright [sic]? And how will you incorporate the discovery into the year ahead? -Kate Inglis
If "Fraught" was the word to describe 2010, August could be considered its zenith. We were really starting to stretch our finances to the limit. We were discussing our options: I had a small IRA I could sell, and DH had stocks.
Meanwhile, DH's seizures were becoming stronger, and more frequent. His new medication, one that has been on the market for less than a year, gave him such bad side effects that sometimes he had to crawl to get around the house.
DH and his neurosurgeon, thinking that there were no more job opportunities out there for the moment, set a date for surgery. Brain surgery that is. Surgery that involves cutting a door in his skull, wrapping his brain with a sheet of electrodes, and then purposefully stimulating those electrodes to cause him to have seizures, in the hope of pinpointing the part of his brain where the wiring went wrong, the "focus." At the end of the week, they would remove the sheet, and any brain they felt might be the problem (which they warned us might be golf-ball sized), and of course, put his skull back together. Recovery is 4-6 weeks.
While DH and his neurosurgeon seemed to be handling events with aplomb, I was falling apart. Looking at my mood chart shows I was pretty freaked out. The chances of death were as good as nil, but I still dreaded life without him. I also feared he would come home with a new personality, not the man I married. I still do fear that a bit, and it turns out, he worries about it too.
The surgery date was set late in August. I was buying pajamas, and teaching myself cribbage so we could play it in the hospital during his week stay. About two weeks before the date, DH got a call from a financial services company: They were interested in his experience in UI (User Interface). Suddenly, it became a race. Could DH get an offer before he was admitted to the hospital?
8 days before his scheduled surgery, DH received his offer. He was so excited, he forgot to sign and fax in his contract, he just read it. When we were on our celebratory trip to Lassen, just as we were about to head out for the day, DH got a call from his new job. Where was his contract? We made a dash to Redding, the nearest town of any size, and waited for a fax of another copy of his contract, had him sign it, fax it back in, then wait for confirmation of his new workplace's receipt of the document. It took 3 tries, but at last we did it!
It had seemed like a horrible last minute nightmare when we first realized we had to get the contract in, or he wouldn't be able to start for another few weeks. But when we knew that contract was in their hands, suddenly, DH was officially employed. The contract was signed, the "i"s dotted, and the "t"s crossed. We had made it. We had lived on umemployment that lasted 6 months, and then on our savings alone for another 4 months. We are playing catch up a little with our debt, but as of January 6, all of our credit cards will be back to zero. We have another round of surgeries and health problems to look forward to in 2011, but the outlook is so much rosier, with DH working, my foot nearly healed (meaning I can get back to my work), and really great health insurance.
We are back.
*********************************
Dec. 23: New name. Let's meet again, for the first time. [Cassandra]If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be, and why? -Becca Wilcott
Hello, my name is Cassandra. I am the archetype of the truth teller who is ignored. For predicting the truth time and time again, in other people's minds, I am a foreteller of doom, rather than a seer of the inevitable consequences of their own actions. I am falsely labeled "mad" when I speak truths they do not want to hear. But when I am truly waxing crazy, my truths become harsher, and bitter. They are just as often true. But it is when I predict bad outcomes that come true that people are the most scared of me.
I'm not psychic. I am a "student" of behavior. I am a studier, a watcher, drawn to details, a collector of patterns. It is true, everyone is different. But what makes them different is just the differing weights of the ingredients they share with Everyone else. There are only so many ingredients out of which to make people, although there are always one or two without raisins, and others with nuts.
I learned about human behavior from an expert, a psychopharmacologist who studied biologically based mental illnesses, AKA, my father. He taught me what was normal, what was not. He showed me the rigid patterns in which people think, the way the very words they use to conceal give them away. I learned there were a limited array of behaviours. Some are so dreadful that it is best not to think about them. But for all of them, it is as the old saw goes, there is nothing new on this Earth.
Sometimes, I scare and anger people with my assessments of their friends and what I foresee as the outcome of their actions. The more often I am correct, the harder they push me away.
My plan for now is to lie low, I refuse to fall victim to any scheming Clytemnestra. Another meaning for the name Cassandra is "defender," and I have always been someone who tries to defend the rights of the most marginalized members of society. Sometimes defending is altruistic, such as helping prisoners make legal appeals,. Other times it just means protecting myself from the consequences of mishaps created by my own peculiar recipe of perspicacity and crazy.
Dec. 22: Travel. How did you travel in 2010? How and/or where would you like to travel this year? -Tara Hunt
In 2010, I travelled almost exclusively by Prius, with the exception of about 200 miles. There was a cab ride back from the airport in January. My friend gave me a lift to my first post-op appointment for my foot. A few van rides and cab rides back and forth between my car dealership and my home. A bike ride to go pick up the Prius from the dealership. And finally, a tow truck, that carried my dead Prius to a Eugene Toyota Dealership (yes, another dealership).
I only travelled a little this year. In January, I made a brief trip back to my hometown, Pittsburgh, to spend time with my parents, sisters, and niece. The next travel of any sort was the Oregon Country Fair, in July. I drove myself up and back in two day increments, spending the night in Yreka on the northern drive, and Corning on the southern one.
In August, after my husband was offered a great job after almost 11 months of unemployment, we took a short trip to Lassen Volcanic National Park. While we had to cut our visit short, the reason for this is going to make me jump to the prompt after the next one. Don't worry, I'll get back to the one I skipped over.
******************************
Dec. 24: Everything's OK. What was the best moment that could? serve as proof that everything is going to be alright [sic]? And how will you incorporate the discovery into the year ahead? -Kate Inglis
If "Fraught" was the word to describe 2010, August could be considered its zenith. We were really starting to stretch our finances to the limit. We were discussing our options: I had a small IRA I could sell, and DH had stocks.
Meanwhile, DH's seizures were becoming stronger, and more frequent. His new medication, one that has been on the market for less than a year, gave him such bad side effects that sometimes he had to crawl to get around the house.
DH and his neurosurgeon, thinking that there were no more job opportunities out there for the moment, set a date for surgery. Brain surgery that is. Surgery that involves cutting a door in his skull, wrapping his brain with a sheet of electrodes, and then purposefully stimulating those electrodes to cause him to have seizures, in the hope of pinpointing the part of his brain where the wiring went wrong, the "focus." At the end of the week, they would remove the sheet, and any brain they felt might be the problem (which they warned us might be golf-ball sized), and of course, put his skull back together. Recovery is 4-6 weeks.
While DH and his neurosurgeon seemed to be handling events with aplomb, I was falling apart. Looking at my mood chart shows I was pretty freaked out. The chances of death were as good as nil, but I still dreaded life without him. I also feared he would come home with a new personality, not the man I married. I still do fear that a bit, and it turns out, he worries about it too.
The surgery date was set late in August. I was buying pajamas, and teaching myself cribbage so we could play it in the hospital during his week stay. About two weeks before the date, DH got a call from a financial services company: They were interested in his experience in UI (User Interface). Suddenly, it became a race. Could DH get an offer before he was admitted to the hospital?
8 days before his scheduled surgery, DH received his offer. He was so excited, he forgot to sign and fax in his contract, he just read it. When we were on our celebratory trip to Lassen, just as we were about to head out for the day, DH got a call from his new job. Where was his contract? We made a dash to Redding, the nearest town of any size, and waited for a fax of another copy of his contract, had him sign it, fax it back in, then wait for confirmation of his new workplace's receipt of the document. It took 3 tries, but at last we did it!
It had seemed like a horrible last minute nightmare when we first realized we had to get the contract in, or he wouldn't be able to start for another few weeks. But when we knew that contract was in their hands, suddenly, DH was officially employed. The contract was signed, the "i"s dotted, and the "t"s crossed. We had made it. We had lived on umemployment that lasted 6 months, and then on our savings alone for another 4 months. We are playing catch up a little with our debt, but as of January 6, all of our credit cards will be back to zero. We have another round of surgeries and health problems to look forward to in 2011, but the outlook is so much rosier, with DH working, my foot nearly healed (meaning I can get back to my work), and really great health insurance.
We are back.
*********************************
Dec. 23: New name. Let's meet again, for the first time. [Cassandra]If you could introduce yourself to strangers by another name for just one day, what would it be, and why? -Becca Wilcott
Hello, my name is Cassandra. I am the archetype of the truth teller who is ignored. For predicting the truth time and time again, in other people's minds, I am a foreteller of doom, rather than a seer of the inevitable consequences of their own actions. I am falsely labeled "mad" when I speak truths they do not want to hear. But when I am truly waxing crazy, my truths become harsher, and bitter. They are just as often true. But it is when I predict bad outcomes that come true that people are the most scared of me.
I'm not psychic. I am a "student" of behavior. I am a studier, a watcher, drawn to details, a collector of patterns. It is true, everyone is different. But what makes them different is just the differing weights of the ingredients they share with Everyone else. There are only so many ingredients out of which to make people, although there are always one or two without raisins, and others with nuts.
I learned about human behavior from an expert, a psychopharmacologist who studied biologically based mental illnesses, AKA, my father. He taught me what was normal, what was not. He showed me the rigid patterns in which people think, the way the very words they use to conceal give them away. I learned there were a limited array of behaviours. Some are so dreadful that it is best not to think about them. But for all of them, it is as the old saw goes, there is nothing new on this Earth.
Sometimes, I scare and anger people with my assessments of their friends and what I foresee as the outcome of their actions. The more often I am correct, the harder they push me away.
My plan for now is to lie low, I refuse to fall victim to any scheming Clytemnestra. Another meaning for the name Cassandra is "defender," and I have always been someone who tries to defend the rights of the most marginalized members of society. Sometimes defending is altruistic, such as helping prisoners make legal appeals,. Other times it just means protecting myself from the consequences of mishaps created by my own peculiar recipe of perspicacity and crazy.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Writing and Mindfulness, #reverb10
I forgot to include December 1st's prompt for my first blog post of #reverb10. But here is the prompt for Day 2/December 2nd:
"What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing -and can you eliminate it?" (Author: Leo Babauta)
As I suspect it will be for many people, this was a really hard question for me to answer. Damn you, #reverb10, for throwing a curve ball so early! As punishment, this is going to be more of a process post, and less reflective.
When I began to ruminate on this question, I realized it was very difficult for me to come up with something I did daily that interfered with my writing. But I had absolutely no problem thinking of all the things I don't do every day, all the mind loops and stall tactics that I use to excuse the quality of my writing, or not writing at all. These are some of the things I thought of, when I tried to think of something I did daily:
By the same token, I never pull anything out of the big wooden keepsake box to revise or rethink, or insert into other, longer, writings. It is like that wooden box is a coffin for my writing. A coffin stuffed with notebooks, half used; journals with bi-annual posts; copies of legal briefs; and the few articles I have published. I should be pulling them out, dissecting them, and cannibalizing them for new, and hopefully better, pieces. It is as if they were lost to the mists of time.
That my approach to this prompt was immediately negative is not surprising to me. I have a very negative approach to my entire life, I am pensive, intense, and not a very sweet person. This makes my writing seem very self-indulgent, and inward looking, or at least that is how it reads to me. Part of what concerns me is that my writing is always memoir-ish, but makes no real attempt to make my experiences seem universal.
How do I turn myself around? How do I start to feel positive about what I write, and have written? How do I take my intensity and self-indulgence, and use it to write, instead of angrily ruminate?
One therapy to which I have been subjected is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). I didn't really enjoy it, or the other people in my group. I was enrolled in the sessions as part of my course of treatment for bipolar illness, although it has since been found that CBT is of zero benefit to those who are bipolar. Nonetheless, it was helpful for anxiety, and to some extent, compulsive behaviors. But the most important thing I learned about was the quasi-Buddhist theory of mindfulness.
In my life, being mindful means living in the now, and listening to my thoughts, and what questions they raise. It is about finding the patterns of flawed and negative thinking, and being able to say: "I see I am beginning to follow my old negative thought pattern. I need to change my orientation." It is hard to do at first. No, I take that back, it is always hard to do. Mindfulness requires a lot of work, and it forces self-knowledge, whether you want it or not.
I am hoping this year to begin to obliterate the negative thought loops that hold me back from writing. My only weapon may be mindfulness. But it is a strong one.
"What do you do each day that doesn't contribute to your writing -and can you eliminate it?" (Author: Leo Babauta)
As I suspect it will be for many people, this was a really hard question for me to answer. Damn you, #reverb10, for throwing a curve ball so early! As punishment, this is going to be more of a process post, and less reflective.
When I began to ruminate on this question, I realized it was very difficult for me to come up with something I did daily that interfered with my writing. But I had absolutely no problem thinking of all the things I don't do every day, all the mind loops and stall tactics that I use to excuse the quality of my writing, or not writing at all. These are some of the things I thought of, when I tried to think of something I did daily:
- I don't focus enough on my formal, non-blog writing, which harms my development as a writer, and therefore the quality of my blog.
- I don't set aside a time, or set a timer at some point during the day, to just bang out whatever comes into my head. I know this is a good exercise if I want to get serious about writing, but I never seem to just start doing it.
- I never write down ideas when they pop into my head, even just a few words on the back of an envelope. By the time I sit down later, the ideas are lost.
- I haven't sought an outlet for my writing. I am one of those people who needs a deadline to really get anything polished. I can't bring myself to complete anything I start, without that line in the sand.
By the same token, I never pull anything out of the big wooden keepsake box to revise or rethink, or insert into other, longer, writings. It is like that wooden box is a coffin for my writing. A coffin stuffed with notebooks, half used; journals with bi-annual posts; copies of legal briefs; and the few articles I have published. I should be pulling them out, dissecting them, and cannibalizing them for new, and hopefully better, pieces. It is as if they were lost to the mists of time.
That my approach to this prompt was immediately negative is not surprising to me. I have a very negative approach to my entire life, I am pensive, intense, and not a very sweet person. This makes my writing seem very self-indulgent, and inward looking, or at least that is how it reads to me. Part of what concerns me is that my writing is always memoir-ish, but makes no real attempt to make my experiences seem universal.
How do I turn myself around? How do I start to feel positive about what I write, and have written? How do I take my intensity and self-indulgence, and use it to write, instead of angrily ruminate?
One therapy to which I have been subjected is Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT). I didn't really enjoy it, or the other people in my group. I was enrolled in the sessions as part of my course of treatment for bipolar illness, although it has since been found that CBT is of zero benefit to those who are bipolar. Nonetheless, it was helpful for anxiety, and to some extent, compulsive behaviors. But the most important thing I learned about was the quasi-Buddhist theory of mindfulness.
In my life, being mindful means living in the now, and listening to my thoughts, and what questions they raise. It is about finding the patterns of flawed and negative thinking, and being able to say: "I see I am beginning to follow my old negative thought pattern. I need to change my orientation." It is hard to do at first. No, I take that back, it is always hard to do. Mindfulness requires a lot of work, and it forces self-knowledge, whether you want it or not.
I am hoping this year to begin to obliterate the negative thought loops that hold me back from writing. My only weapon may be mindfulness. But it is a strong one.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Well let's get started.
Today was a shopping day. I wore a rose colored knee-length elasticized tie waistband hemp skirt that I bought from Whole Foods last year. Over the skirt, I wore a burgundy pleated polyester short sleeved shirt, with a lacy button placket insert. One of my Goodwill finds.
I just wore my grey suede birkenstocks, and my hair pulled back, but I wore my garnet and pearl elizabethan style earrings, and my "gypsy coin" necklace. I think I am going to start taking pictures of these things.
Even though I was not very dressed up, I smelled good from all the Lush. I went to Eni-thing, in San Jose, which is a consignment shop for handmade items. I picked up a couple of her insulated plastic cups with lids and straws, since they were half off. I also got some adorable black plaid kanazashi hair ornaments, and a couple of pair of earrings. I will try to start taking pictures of all of these things.
Tomorrow/Today, I am going to a benefit for the Humane Society of Silicon Valley. Right now I know I am going to wear my vintage black knife-pleated tea-length skirt I got at Moon Zooom. Not totally sure about the top, although I am leaning to a a long sleeved embellished tunic I got at Costco. With my "new" basic dance Mary Janes (another Goodwill), and hopefully, I will pick up some panty hose tomorrow, while I get MAC glitter with the gift certificate NakedJen sent me for my birthday. Maybe I will stop at Lush, too, if they are not too far apart in the mall.
At the second, I plan to wear a very nice silver jingly bracelet I bought at It's a Girl's Thing (the store holding the benefit) while I picked up my benefit ticket. I also am going to wear some snowflake like earrings I got from Enica. Need to think of a necklace, though, unless the kanazashi finishes of the look. And some light makeup.
I am REALLY going to try to make this blog into something possibly coherent. A rough draft, but an idea. I need to take a lot of pictures.
The makeup week debate made me think of this with which to break through. But this is my secret blog. Unless someone finds it.
I just wore my grey suede birkenstocks, and my hair pulled back, but I wore my garnet and pearl elizabethan style earrings, and my "gypsy coin" necklace. I think I am going to start taking pictures of these things.
Even though I was not very dressed up, I smelled good from all the Lush. I went to Eni-thing, in San Jose, which is a consignment shop for handmade items. I picked up a couple of her insulated plastic cups with lids and straws, since they were half off. I also got some adorable black plaid kanazashi hair ornaments, and a couple of pair of earrings. I will try to start taking pictures of all of these things.
Tomorrow/Today, I am going to a benefit for the Humane Society of Silicon Valley. Right now I know I am going to wear my vintage black knife-pleated tea-length skirt I got at Moon Zooom. Not totally sure about the top, although I am leaning to a a long sleeved embellished tunic I got at Costco. With my "new" basic dance Mary Janes (another Goodwill), and hopefully, I will pick up some panty hose tomorrow, while I get MAC glitter with the gift certificate NakedJen sent me for my birthday. Maybe I will stop at Lush, too, if they are not too far apart in the mall.
At the second, I plan to wear a very nice silver jingly bracelet I bought at It's a Girl's Thing (the store holding the benefit) while I picked up my benefit ticket. I also am going to wear some snowflake like earrings I got from Enica. Need to think of a necklace, though, unless the kanazashi finishes of the look. And some light makeup.
I am REALLY going to try to make this blog into something possibly coherent. A rough draft, but an idea. I need to take a lot of pictures.
The makeup week debate made me think of this with which to break through. But this is my secret blog. Unless someone finds it.
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