here i am

I've needed to do laundry for several days now. Each day I scoop up all the towels in the bathroom and stuff 'em into the bag - all determination and best intentions - then drag one back out when I wake up the next day after AGAIN not having done the laundry and realize that I need to take a shower and must get dry somehow . All because I hate going to the laundromat and I try to avoid at all costs the potential for lurky stares. The laundromat is, in theory, an interesting place. It should be fodder for observation and creativity... But mostly, most of the time - when I sit there alone at night patiently awaiting the sigh of a finished machine, warm and oddly numbed by the droning hum of the dryers and the yellow lights and the yellowed floors and the floating blue bits of hovering lint and wonder how the guy with the greasy grey puffy coat and the bike planted against the folding table in front of him got his laundry here on a bike... and why that guy over there just d...

Running update... I was really off my scarcely established routine while I was sick and recuperating. I'm finally trying to ease back into things now, if only the wind chill would bugger off. I'm not a brave enough soul to go out in anything too much below freezing. But the shoes still feel great and the knee feels great, and running, itself, of course, feels more than excellent. I am taking the babiest baby steps you could possibly imagine... 'Cos I know myself and my tendency to do everything I do with gusto and super big much intensity and best intentions, and the last thing I want to do with this enterprise is burn myself out. So, if you see me out there running, then walking, then running, then walking - don't laugh at me! I'm building up my endurance! It's working, too. What once felt like a burning ripping lung tearing big ol' ball o' STOP IT - YOU'RE KILLING ME! has turned into a body humming c'mon, lets keep goin' and kick...

It's supposed to be five degrees tomorrow. Somehow I can't even comprehend five degrees at this moment. I don't think I'll be out running. Twentysomething degrees was quite enough thank you. The snow is to come Friday. More snow, so they say. Strangely enough I find myself feeling altogether indifferent about impending snow. Everything seems incomprehensible to me today. The 5 degrees. The snow. The fact that you are somewhere across town and may be hurting maybe not and we just don't make the call because the leaden whisper of what now ? looms too large. I have found a sixth gear of living called detached and have sunk down all too comfortably into that groove and appear to be seaming along just fine there. So be it today this. I'm wearing an orange tank top and my shoulders are cold but I don't mind. I also just ate an orange and - instead of cutting it neatly into quarters with a good sharp knife, then safely into eight shimmering, manageable pyrami...

Here I am again. Back where I started with this. With a heart too heavy and a brain too numb to make words out of this abyss. There's no rope and pulley with bucket attached to help me in dredging the depths of it. So... it's just a cold morning after a good run and a glass of water and a handful of almonds and the strange light of what's really real just sitting there on the living room floor stretching a hamstring stretching deep being in it being in the moment the life the pain the wrong the right the seeing of the soft cotton pattern of the weave on the bottom of my sock with Sarah McLachlan on the stereo (what else? c'mon, you'd do it too - admit it) and now the kettle whistling and I think I'll just dump a big scoop of sugar in my tea and take a shower and get on with it... what else is there to do? Okay - I promise I'll find a way to tell the moment of you sitting on the stairs with the hallway light behind your eyes hearing the words that just ...

I should write something. I should. I really, really, really should. But no. I don't. Why? Is it because the D-bomb was finally dropped a week ago today and I've had no idea what to say since then? Probably. I'll think of something soon though, don't worry. M

Here's some music for 'ya, too...

Yo: Estoy enojada. Ana: ¿Por qué? Yo: Porque _____ me llamó antes de que yo llegué aquí para decirme que no iba venir con nostotros a bailar esta noche y se puso muy raro conmigo. Ana: ¿Qué dijo? Yo: Él quería que yo fuera con él a ver una pelea en casa de unos amigos suyos. Ana: ¿Que va? Si ya habíamos planeado ir a bailar. Yo: Digo yo. Estaba enojado que no fuera con él - diciendo que eras tú mi novia y tales cosas. Ana: ¿Qué? Que cosa más loca. Yo: Ademas, él ya me había preguntado si me gusta el boxeo, y yo le dije que no! Ana: ¿Por qué será que se puso asi? Yo: No sé. Estaba actuando como si yo fuera su novia - si solo yo le he hablado dos o tres veces por telefono. Ana: Pero tienes que entender, que en nuestra cultura es asi - si alguien te pretende, es como... Yo: Ya sé - es como si ya fueras suya. Ana: Si. silencio....... Ana: Que necio. Yo: Si. Los hombres son estupidos.

I live on the second floor of this big, old house and often I feel as though I'm living in a treehouse. I have a commanding view of everything around and below me. Perhaps I shouldn't admit it, but I also have a commanding view of the houses around me - and the windows of those houses. I don't peep. No. But sometimes I do observe. How can you not observe? The neighbors on one side of my house are more interesting than the neighbors on the other side of my house. The neighbors on the other side of my house are seemingly of semi-retirement age and have Sunday dinners and a big grown-up style oak dining table and decorate profusely but tastefully for every holiday and change of season. Not too terribly intriguing. But the neighbors on the interesting side are more mysterious, if not as simple to describe. The porch is hauntingly spare - a great antique-ish teal colored bench, stacks of firewood and not much else. Sometimes a paper. Outside the door on the side of the house ...

The human body is truly an amazing machine! For two days I alternately writhed in misery and slept the unlikely sleep of someone in a sauna. I ached and creaked and my head was a hot quiet buzz of discomforting misinformation. At one point all the pain in my body centered in my throat and refused to dislodge itself. I lurked in terrified anticipation of the inferno that would be the next choking, body wracking cough. I'd sooner have had someone hit me on the head with a hammer and put me out of my proverbial misery. Then - just when I thought I could take no more - something happened. I began to sweat. I slept again. I awoke, cool and comfortable. The fever broke and I emerged from it all somehow alive and the birds are twittering and the sun is shining and the day is crisp and expansive and I feel as though I've thrown off a hot, wool, ash covered blanket or emerged from a coma. I've leapt back into the world of the living, and though I probably won't do any waltzin...

I'm fantastically ill and have been existing in a fever-induced haze. I ran across this recently and find it to be disturbingly catchy. The snow is all melty. It's COLD. I hate winter. I haven't been running since I've been fantastically ill. I will run again when I'm all bettah. Spiced apple cider packets are the only thing sufficient to mask the taste of Theraflu. I watched Comedian recently, and found it to be enjoyable and thought provoking. This assessment could be entirely due to aforementioned fever-induced haze. Evening comes on so quickly these days that I find myself taken aback and disoriented. There are no less than three white ceramic mugs on my desk at this moment. The mugs are filled to varying degrees with various liquids. I can't figure out how this came to pass. I think it's time to stop writing now and go to sleep again. M

This fella has been visiting the tree outside my kitchen window for several months now. Today he was alone but usually his vividness is contrasted smack dab in the middle of lots of plain little brown sparrows. He sits there and looks cute and chubby and chews on his twig as I wash the dishes and, every so often, he looks my way. M

The first snow came today. I'd felt the warning cold for a few days, and dreaded. But the first snow is deceiving. Each year, I forget my hatred of all that is winter for those few magical hours. Woke up. Looked out. Big. Soft. Flakes. Falling. Gracefully, quietly, unthreateningly. And all of the everything all around got quiet under it. A sigh of snow. Safe. Cradled. Calm. Nestled. I pull on my hat, drive slowly to the store in the hush of a muffled white cocoon. It's terribly beautiful and romantic for one afternoon. Then soon, the hatred. M

I spent a good part of today lying on my back in my darkened room, just sort of flopped out in the yellowish light of the windowshades, listening to jangly punk rock on the college station and trying to feel my craniosacral rhythm. At one point I wandered to the kitchen to eat too many left-overs. I'm sick and sickly and sort of wandering foggy in that in-between, feeling too yucky to do much and feeling okay enough that I feel guilty for not doing much. I've got that in-your-pjs-too-long-haven't-seen-daylight-all-day kind of cabin-feverish feeling. Ran Wednesday and wanted to run today but figured I'd better rest-up as Wednesday was pushing it with my almost-cold in the cold (see, now it's a full blown cold!) Speaking of which, why do people ask all manner of dumb-ass questions when you're sick? "What do you have?" Well, I don't freakin' know! I'm not a microbiologist. Do you want a shopping list of my past and current symptoms? ...

So, I finally get the shoes, then my @#$% watch has to go in to the shop! Therefore, since I've had to guesstimate my running time, I've only taken the shoes out for little trial runs - Friday and today. But... WOW! They are super-duper comfy, no knee pain - I feel like I'm running on air! Wah-hooooooooo! It's ON !!! This is the first time I've ever done any aerobic exercise for any reason other than to try to lose weight. This is different. If I lose weight it's incidental. I want to run. Go figure. It feels incredible. As usual, I'll keep y'all posted. M

New Balance 765s As requested - the 411 on my new superfast supercool shoes. M

I got them, I got them, I got them! I stopped at the running store tonight and got the shoes. I walked into the store - all sheepish and silly and awkward - and said, as matter of factly as I could, "Hello. I would like to buy some running shoes please. I've never bought running shoes before." And the man behind the counter was very nice (of course, because I had just announced that I would shortly be giving him some money, and what else would you be but nice when someone is about to give you money) and said, "We would like to sell you some running shoes." (smiles all round) And then we commenced to perform a little parade of barefoot walking and foot measuring and shoe trying on and me trucking self-consciously around the little track thingy in the store (but hiding my self-consciousness by studiously concentrating on figuring out how well I liked the various fits). It was a little bit of a blast, to tell you the truth. And then I gave him a wad of cash (a...

our conversation was like swimming under water. your voice muffled and warbled and coming through. one topic after another, floating by - wavy and blurred in the most vivid blues and reds and some other color that I can't quite pin down. you made some mad uncomplicated sense to my sleep drunk mind and that seemed to me to be the makings of the most reasonable conversation I could have had in maybe a decade. but maybe that's making it make too much of itself. it was in any case, a good thing. you get points for that. for simple happiness. M

I'm Brave! I'm Tangerine Boy! What San-X Character Are You?

I cheated on my hairdresser. I can't pronounce Israel Kamakawiwo`ole's name. A bowl of cereal is not enough. My CD Burner is not working. There was a ladybug carcass in the dish water. Blade 's blog has mysteriously disappeared. ( ! ) My heart got broken this week. I'm pretending it didn't. I didn't know that Jennifer Beals is bi-racial. The air is cold and still with chill. My office is never less than a total mess. I'm a salsaholic. I need to re-pot plants. I want to run. I never thought I'd want so badly to run. I'm pissed that I can't run. Trinity makes me smile. I might go to a hockey game tonight. I have an unexplained urge to buy a Dottie West CD. I must be insane. I'm trying not to miss you. It's hard.

For those of you following my marathon training schedule (snicker, snicker) - here is an update... I did week three of my plan probably for a total of three days (more, perhaps - you'd think I'd be keeping better track, eh?) but these days did not actually occur during the space of one week... because my knee is hurting. This is not good. It is not good to be running as slowly as I am for only two minutes at a time and have one's knee be hurting. Not good. Not good at all. So I gave it time to rest, did some strengthening exercises, then gave it another go, with modifications (different shoes, different running surface, more baby steps, icing and ibuprofen, etc.) but it began hurting again. So - I'm back to walking until I figure out the problem. I think its the shoes. Therefore my plans are on hold until the funds appear for a trip to the running store for proper shoes. Maybe on pay day. We'll see. I'll keep you posted. I know you're on the edges...

I find myself thinking today about something I find myself thinking about often, and this is Israel, and her struggle for peace. The struggle for peace, and the struggle within myself to find some way to reconcile my love for the land and people Israel with my desire for peace. Wholeness. Sanity. And I'm agonizing, as I often do, over the fact that this desire sometimes puts me at odds with others (others whom I yet love - kol Israel arevim zeh b' zeh) who seem at times not to be able to look past polemics and anger and rage and self-righteousness, and see the possibility for hope. I know that there are other things that must be looked past too - I'm not unaware that there is also fear, disgust, pain, anguish, grieving, and determination. I know what is at stake. I know why you are angry, I know why you fight hard, stay strong, lift your chin in pride and resilience. I know. I am thinking of a visiting lecture last year from Amos Oz . Two things have brought his word...

Well, it appears as though it's over. I'm honestly too shocked to really know exactly what to say. I still can't believe it. What happened? Where did it go wrong? How could it have happened? Why? Where do we go from here? Something has to change. I guess it's up to us to spend more time and energy figuring out precisely what. I'm afraid of what this nation is becoming. More so than I have ever been in my life. M

Go VOTE!!!!!!! (sheesh!)

Here's the Little Guy

I kill plants. I try not to. I really do. I'm just not sure how or why, but I'm a killer. I have had so many, many plants, and only two have survived. One is a spindly ficus that I rescued while helping a friend's mom clean her greenhouse the summer before I graduated from college. She was just going to toss it, because it appeared not to be doing so well, so I pretended to take it to the garbage can but instead snuck it into the back seat of my car and surreptitiously wrapped its poor naked roots in wet paper towels until I could get it home and in some dirt. It just felt wrong, giving up on a living thing like that. I mean - give him a chance, lady, I thought. Ironic, then, that he's one of the lucky few I haven't killed. He's never really grown up though. Just sort of sits there in his pot, happy enough to have survived, I suppose. The other is an aloe vera which was given to me by a friend who moved to Florida. This gal was the plant maven. Her apart...

1. I forgot to buy Halloween candy. 2. No one who does something to intentionally hurt me deserves anything I have to give. M

I did it. I feel like shouting from the rooftops. When I got it done, I had this urge (which, fortunately for my dignity, I did not act upon) to raise both fists in the air in that sort of triumphant pumping motion one might see as a person finishes a marathon or wins a grand race. All this over having accomplished something that, to some, might seem ah... little: I ran for 10 whole minutes today - two minutes at a time. You'd have to know me, know my life, to know what an amazing achievement this is. I was once of the sullen angry smoking teenage species who muttered bitterly from under a fringe of dyed black bangs: "exercise is for losers." Seriously. I dreaded gym class. I would literally cry every year when I had (to attempt pitifully) to run for that damn presidential fitness crap, or whatever the hell it was called. I was a fitness misfit. It was part of my identity. I simultaneously ridiculed and envied those clean, ruddy faced, seemingly normal folks who co...

Updating this thing after not having written for so long is kinda like writing to or calling a friend who hasn't heard from you in a while. Awkward. Forced. Apologetic. That's not too surprising, considering there's a list longer than I'd care to admit of folks I need to get in touch with but just... don't . I do that sometimes. There's too much to say so I say nothing. Seems somehow more kind than saying something small and unintentional. Suspended. Ever living suspended. Upended. Between. What do I say? How do I answer the questions that no one can figure out how to ask me? But you've gotta start somewhere, no? The problem is that every time I sit down to write I find the yawning silence too deafening. I know it's boring to write about this but I don't give a shit. This is my rant for today. Oh, and I've gotten the notion in my head that I need to run. Having never done something like this before in my life, I'll be following a ...

Well, hello there!

There is a panadería here in town that makes the best Pastel de Tres Leches in the universe. A. turned 5 today, and besides the locura that is the piñata, guess what mom brought? You guessed it! If you have never tried this little bit of heaven, get yourself somewhere to try it now ! (Or you could try to make it yourself - if you are handier with an oven than I am) It is indescribably incredible, and I could eat an entire cake if someone left me in a room alone with one for any amount of time. Now, as for the piñata - you should have seen her parents' dismay as they watched her spindly and timid midwestern classmates hint ever so tentatively at trying to break this thing. I have had mixed feelings about piñatas for a long time; the whole process of beating an animal with a stick until its insides fall out - so you can scurry to collect and consume them - has always been a bit unsettling to me, in theory. But it's so much gol-darned fun! And A's mom brought up an interes...

Every box I pack has an extra load to carry. I pack into them a little sorrow. A little yearning for what is lost. There - peeking out from the corner of a box of clothes: some orange fabric of disappointment, the ruffled edge of misunderstanding. I try to pack the books into smaller boxes, so I can carry them out by myself. But they're heavier even so, than they should be... They force me to bear more than their own weight - laden as they are with hidden bricks of anger. I didn't want my leaving to become a weapon. The dull sword's edge of resentment. But these boxes aren't moving themselves to the car on their own. Some pain must lift them off this unswept floor... Something of the fight left in me to acknowledge all the small and quiet wrongs of this thing; oh, the big things stare you loudly in the face and you can laugh them down, stuffing them into the closet under a fluffy duvet... But the small things - the kitchen utensils of pettiness and picture frames and...

It's time to write about something new. This is beginning to sound altogether too self-pitying. I'm beginning to get condolence letters. Okay. Ahem... um.... ah... Okay, wait. Here goes: It has occurred to me that the problem in its entirety consists of little more than the fact that I have NOT been drinking enough water. The End

I'm wrecked. Drained utterly and in every conceivable way from standing across from one another screaming angst into the void. Another punched in the gut ending to a day. Another sitting here alone contemplating nothing 'cos contemplating this is too damned much moment. But my lease starts next week. So I finally put some books in boxes and now I am just too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the dusty shelf and wonder how I'm going to move it from one place to another and why why why. And I'm frozen. How in the hell am I going to finish this. It has taken me an entire month to pack two boxes of books. What the hell do I do with the wedding gifts? The albums? The silver? How do you begin to figure out how to take apart a home, a life, an existence that you've worked so hard - for so long -to build? How do you even do that? When something ends badly, where the hell do you stuff all the good memories? How what why fuck. And I am so damned alone. The though...

I'm back. But I haven't seemed to have had anything to say. California was of course beautiful and sunny and the perfect temperature and I could live forever on the beach among the palm trees and waves and sand and sky and breathe again. I likely will when the time comes. I hope the time comes soon. I could stand on the pier for hours and let that sparkle hypnotize me. I lived on fish tacos and fish n' chips and the Olde Port Inn 's sourdough bread bowl clam chowder. Yay for seafood. Yay for California. List of things to remember to write about: The train down the coast. My new (soon to be) apartment Salsa on 2 A comparison/contrast study of California Dance Snobs vs. Hot Monkey Love My mom and detachment Breathing Heartaches upon waking and being crushed under the weight of the sudden realization that I'm going to be living alone soon The dreaded "Spring" Egg Hunt "conversation" A new employment opportunity (see Breathing) The Pandas ...

New Kicks    They also came with a pair of orange laces - but methinks some teal colored ones are in order, no?  

Even though I do own a stereo, and there is a CD player in my computer, I'm sitting here listening to Ann Peebles on my walkman - 'cos I just got a new one last night for my trip to Californey.    I can't wait to get the dreck out of here.  I don't know why but the grass is greener.  I'm mentally and physically exhausted.  I just want to lay on the beach and do  n-o-t-h-i-n-g.  Granted, the time will likely be spent arguing with mom, as per usual (why do I always convince myself that "it will be different this time"), but I can have my illusions, right?  Anyway, I have an escape hatch, as I will arbitrarily choose the date upon which I catch that train down to San Diego to see an old college pal.  And - whoo hoo - there have been promises of a Mexico trip!  Ah, at long last, to set foot upon the sacred soil of the land of my ancestors... well, at least the cheesy tourist trap border town soil of my ...

Self Portrait  I look kinda tired in this picture and a bit strange... but I like the light.

It is one in the morning. You are asleep on the couch. My neck is stiff from sitting at the computer... doing nothing. Every few minutes a car whooshes by in the night. There's that hollow feeling of bouyant useless empty space when the air conditioner kicks on... because it's not hot in here, but I'm not cold enough to get up and turn it off. Because that would mean walking across the room, and that would entail some purposefulness, and that would yank me from my zombie stare and make me realize I should take my contacts out and go to bed. Which would mean walking past you in the living room and having to make the decision whether or not to wake you and guide you to bed with me. You're stirring now. The fridge begins to hum. I wonder if I could win at solitaire. M

what is that thing that thing that thing where your torso is wrenched in one direction and your stomach in another and your heart is left suspended disconnected sucking in on itself imploding suffocating suspended in agony in midair what is that? i am the smiling wife i am overdressed the insalata caprese was a big hit even though you look at me like i'm an alien when i pronounce it and what does a jewish vegetarian do when handed a plate of baked beans with bacon and a brat on a bun? you are my friend you will always be my friend but since i decided this house can't hold my soul anymore saying i love you feels like a lie and i'm scratching at the walls to get on with this thing this thing this whatever it is so that i don't have to think for too long about what not waking up in your arms is - or what it means to think how foolish it would be to hold on to something just because it might be the best thing that ever happened to you. and how when life begins...

Yesterday was crap. It's been a crap week, generally. I could have smoked. I wanted to smoke. I didn't smoke. I wanted to cash my paycheck and book a flight to Morocco or San Diego or Spain or New York, too. I didn't do that either. The weather is making its turn toward the stifling, gritty heat of late summer. It's not quite here yet, but I can sense its approach. Today the sun is shining through the window and it doesn't glint and it doesn't sparkle - it doesn't buoy my spirit. It illuminates the dust on the TV screen and makes me want to scream. I feel like someone is standing on my chest, and if they let up, this primal rage will rip forth and I will never stop screaming or crying or running. I am losing myself. I've somehow, somewhere, misplaced my sense of independence. I've utterly lost sight of my destiny - and it's killing me, really, really slowly. You don't notice it at first... You make shopping lists and c...

Untitled - Tub Objects  I found this to be visually interesting as an unplanned configuration of random objects.

That moment is the one that kills me. The moment after someone walks away, or you hang up the phone, or walk out the door and sit down - resigned, or indignant, or resigned to indignant indifference. Or any other combination of emotional variables. The moment of the solitary drag combined with sigh. The forced exhalation. The subconscious awareness of suspended dispersion of smoke. It's really just a moment. It's a split second of existing fully present. And that moment is - whether you're smoking or not. That's where the bullshit comes in. M

I'm loathe to admit it, so it's best I admit it. I was romanticizing smoking today. Out in the cold, the heat, the grit, the task. . . some purposeful avoidance, some strange, alienated camaraderie. Other. Squinting at the distance. Pondering. Legs crossed in soft cotton skirt, stranger's shirt, walking boots. . . the sun on my face, on some random bench, in a grimy Guatemalan town square, defiant and knowing. Nine months distance from it and suddenly: a deluge of delusion. What bullshit. M

Self Portrait

I've spent an inordinate amount of time trying to add a photo to my profile. I'm such a techno-loser. It's making me very grrrrrrrr! I give up. I'm going to go have my teeth cleaned. M

Two things: #1 - Barnes and Noble sells read shelf copies whose dust jackets and bindings are tattered and expects you to pay full price for them and their managers are very rude when you inquire about the possibility of some small discount being offered as the item in question is the last one on the shelf and you need it that day. Conclusion 1a - Don't shop at big, fat obnoxious corporate chains. Conclusion 1b - Don't wait till the last minute and you won't have to. Conclusion 1c - They're not getting any more of my business. #2 - The fare checker/booking page on Amtrak 's website sucks (i.e. it doesn't work). Conclusion 2a - No wonder nobody takes the train. Conclusion 2b - See Conclusion 1c above. M

Actually, it's not Monday... but it is rainy. But I'm not down. Just can't figure out what to do with myself when school's out. There's plenty I could (and should) be getting done... don't seem to be able to figure out where to start. Ah well. M

I know that my life could present much grander woes. Nevertheless, my existence is what it is - and it is mine. I have to live it. Okay, so here's the point - difficult people... how does one deal with them? I have spent a disproportionate chunk of my life trying to answer this question. There are people in my life who do their utmost to ensure that I feel like total crap whenever I encounter them. They use velvet daggers and sideways digs and generally insult me without being direct or open about it. I could handle it - if it were DIRECT . But no, it's all under the guise of "being nice". Their ways are so tricky that it becomes next to impossible to put my finger on, or to articulate, just what exactly it is that they are doing. It is being done - I just can't prove it! "Just don't involve yourself with these monsters." Yes, I have evolved to the point where I do disengage from these toxic individuals wherever and whenever possible. But i...

Rainy days make me sleepy. Almost rainy days make me even more sleepy. Today would be a nice day to lay in bed and read and take a nap. But I have things to do. Maybe after I do some things I will lay in bed and read and take a nap. M

What's the point of "publishing" one's private thoughts or goings on for the world to see? Who cares? Why should anyone want to publish or read the potentially pointless minutiae of daily life? Who'd be interested? Shouldn't one publish work that's worth reading? Well written? Edited? Intentioned? On the other hand, I've found a lot of satisfaction in reading some fantastic stream of consciousness things on the web. It's a sort of bold, naked endeavor/adventure, to just come here and spill out and see what ends up choosing to make its arrival. M

This has been too long in coming. I held out for a while, but I'm going to give this thing a go. I couldn't even figure out what to call it. At any rate, here I am, and here it is. Now I have to go get something done in my non-virtual life. M