My own heart let me more have pity on; let
Me live to may sad self hereafter kind,
Charitable; not live this tormented mind
With this tormented mind tormenting yet.
I cast for comfort I can no more get
By groping round my comfortless, than blind
Eyes in their dark can day or thirst can find
Thirst's all-in-all in all a world of wet.
Soul, self; come poor Jackself, I do advise
You, jaded, let be; call off thoughts awhile
Elsewhere; leave comfort root-room; let joy size
At God knows when to God knows what; whose smile
's not wrung, see you; unforeseen times rather--as skies
Betweenpie mountains--lights a lovely mile.
G.M. Hopkins
9/29/2004
Sick Little Boy, Day Two
Staying home like this, having time to do the dishes, thinking about making bread (nod to Liza),
looking at the clothes, folded in baskets in the hallway, and thinking that I have time to put them away, and maybe either clean out the car or tackle the studio...
The problem with giving me a little time at home is that I want more
and I start to feel sorry for myself because tomorrow I have to go to work.
So, today, instead of fully enjoying the fine sunlight dappling
through my bedroom window, flapping through the leaves, the chill in
the morning air as I walked my dog through dewy grass, seeing five
little brown birds huddling together at the curb, breaking into flight
as my giant dog approached them, seeing her look at them for a moment
in wonder before lunging at them, seeing, as we passed my own front
yard, one of her small yellow teddy bears dressed in fuschia vest,
lying face down in the grass, forgotten, lost among the weeds that are
spilling out of my flower beds, instead of enjoying homemade coffee
and a clean kitchen and the warm kisses of my little naked blonde boy,
who wraps himself in a green towel after bathing and doesn't want to
get dressed, and in his funny way asks me to recite the breakfast
menu, and when I have, asks if Pancake City might be on that menu,
instead of enjoying this, I notice it, I make the mental notes a
writer makes, store it away later so I can write about it like this,
but I don't really enjoy it because that would cause me to ache so
much because I won't have it tomorrow.
I am still incapable of living in the moment, of being present in my
own life, I am always jumping ahead to tomorrow, rushing boys out the
door, heading to work, not enough time, then the busy weekend, which I
will not enjoy, but be longing for home.
The moments I enjoy: when the kids are sleeping, or when I am lying
down with them, wrapping up our day, when Dereck and I are getting
ready for bed and my time seems truly my own, I love our bedroom, my
books, the soft light, the flirting, and those are the moments I feel
really alive, the moments I crave the rest of my life, the times I am
thinking about during the rest of it all, when I feel like I am not
really here at all, but simply watching a movie reel of someone else's
life.
And I don't want to wake up someday and realize there is no more life
left to have, to enjoy, to be fully engaged in, and so all I will ever
be able to do is to watch that movie reel, to remember having a life,
but not to have memories beyond seeing it.
I think my life currently falls under the category of, "Has it really
really good," and I would do well to start enjoying that more.
When I am at karaoke, I am always longing to be back home, longing for
my computer monitor, the comfort of my blogs, the kitchen, the
children breathing in their beds, my books, sitting in bed with
pillows and reading. I *remember* karaoke as being something fun, but
I am never fully there. I am always ticking the time away until I am
home.
And during the day, I am still always always always wracked with guilt
about what I should be doing because somewhere I got the impression
that I should always be busy, always be productive in my work,
probably from working at fast food jobs in which you never slow down
and the work is always present.
A lot of my work is just showing up, being present for when the next
project occurs, and thinking is a large part of my work too. Trying
out things. I don't have a problem with paying my babysitter to show
up before I need her so that when I do need her, she is right there.
So, why is it so hard for me to have a job and be paid when sometimes
I am not really very busy, not producing anything or making anything?
How do other people function and not feel guilty? Or do they too?
Does anyone enjoy their life as it is happening? Am I the only one?
looking at the clothes, folded in baskets in the hallway, and thinking that I have time to put them away, and maybe either clean out the car or tackle the studio...
The problem with giving me a little time at home is that I want more
and I start to feel sorry for myself because tomorrow I have to go to work.
So, today, instead of fully enjoying the fine sunlight dappling
through my bedroom window, flapping through the leaves, the chill in
the morning air as I walked my dog through dewy grass, seeing five
little brown birds huddling together at the curb, breaking into flight
as my giant dog approached them, seeing her look at them for a moment
in wonder before lunging at them, seeing, as we passed my own front
yard, one of her small yellow teddy bears dressed in fuschia vest,
lying face down in the grass, forgotten, lost among the weeds that are
spilling out of my flower beds, instead of enjoying homemade coffee
and a clean kitchen and the warm kisses of my little naked blonde boy,
who wraps himself in a green towel after bathing and doesn't want to
get dressed, and in his funny way asks me to recite the breakfast
menu, and when I have, asks if Pancake City might be on that menu,
instead of enjoying this, I notice it, I make the mental notes a
writer makes, store it away later so I can write about it like this,
but I don't really enjoy it because that would cause me to ache so
much because I won't have it tomorrow.
I am still incapable of living in the moment, of being present in my
own life, I am always jumping ahead to tomorrow, rushing boys out the
door, heading to work, not enough time, then the busy weekend, which I
will not enjoy, but be longing for home.
The moments I enjoy: when the kids are sleeping, or when I am lying
down with them, wrapping up our day, when Dereck and I are getting
ready for bed and my time seems truly my own, I love our bedroom, my
books, the soft light, the flirting, and those are the moments I feel
really alive, the moments I crave the rest of my life, the times I am
thinking about during the rest of it all, when I feel like I am not
really here at all, but simply watching a movie reel of someone else's
life.
And I don't want to wake up someday and realize there is no more life
left to have, to enjoy, to be fully engaged in, and so all I will ever
be able to do is to watch that movie reel, to remember having a life,
but not to have memories beyond seeing it.
I think my life currently falls under the category of, "Has it really
really good," and I would do well to start enjoying that more.
When I am at karaoke, I am always longing to be back home, longing for
my computer monitor, the comfort of my blogs, the kitchen, the
children breathing in their beds, my books, sitting in bed with
pillows and reading. I *remember* karaoke as being something fun, but
I am never fully there. I am always ticking the time away until I am
home.
And during the day, I am still always always always wracked with guilt
about what I should be doing because somewhere I got the impression
that I should always be busy, always be productive in my work,
probably from working at fast food jobs in which you never slow down
and the work is always present.
A lot of my work is just showing up, being present for when the next
project occurs, and thinking is a large part of my work too. Trying
out things. I don't have a problem with paying my babysitter to show
up before I need her so that when I do need her, she is right there.
So, why is it so hard for me to have a job and be paid when sometimes
I am not really very busy, not producing anything or making anything?
How do other people function and not feel guilty? Or do they too?
Does anyone enjoy their life as it is happening? Am I the only one?
I Love Yvonne Week
In honor of I Love Yvonne Week, for which I have been a little delinquent (my apologies, Yvonne!), I wanted to post my favorite pictures from her blog here.
The first one is of her beautiful new daughter, whom we readers cannot get enough of. I admit, every day I am hoping for a new picture of Gabby, and I have begun dreaming that I have a daughter. I blame Yvonne for this, of course.
Yvonne is one of the writers I mentioned who has a gift but truly doesn't know it. But her writing is as raw, fresh, and funny as any I have found-- I wish I could do what she does. But years of writing classes have to some extent refined what she has out of my writing. Sigh. I think (no offense to anyone anyone anyone else) that her blog, out of any others I've read, could really be turned into a book deal.
I wrote her this in an email awhile back:
Why on earth would you say that you are not a good writer? I have
spent a lot of time reading your archives. You are very good, and
best of all, you are sharp as a tack. Your wit is excellent. And you
capture all the complexities of making your reader tear up one moment,
and then you hit us between the eyes the next minutes-- but we don't
forget how you were breaking our hearts at the same time you were
making us laugh.
This is a gift. I have a creative writing degree, and taught writing
on the university level for three years. And I KNOW good writing when
I see it, and honey, you have one of the best blogs I've ever seen (if
not THE best), and I also KNOW that you have something nobody can
teach. You either have it, or you don't. And you've GOT it-- you
have had it the whole time!
It's that good.
If you haven't read her yet, go, and dig through the archives.
The first one is of her beautiful new daughter, whom we readers cannot get enough of. I admit, every day I am hoping for a new picture of Gabby, and I have begun dreaming that I have a daughter. I blame Yvonne for this, of course.
The next one is one of my favorites of Yvonne, who is beautiful and doesn't know it. |
 |
|
And finally, on Yvonne's birthday-- this was one of the most beautiful posts-- have you ever seen two happier people?  |
Yvonne is one of the writers I mentioned who has a gift but truly doesn't know it. But her writing is as raw, fresh, and funny as any I have found-- I wish I could do what she does. But years of writing classes have to some extent refined what she has out of my writing. Sigh. I think (no offense to anyone anyone anyone else) that her blog, out of any others I've read, could really be turned into a book deal.
I wrote her this in an email awhile back:
Why on earth would you say that you are not a good writer? I have
spent a lot of time reading your archives. You are very good, and
best of all, you are sharp as a tack. Your wit is excellent. And you
capture all the complexities of making your reader tear up one moment,
and then you hit us between the eyes the next minutes-- but we don't
forget how you were breaking our hearts at the same time you were
making us laugh.
This is a gift. I have a creative writing degree, and taught writing
on the university level for three years. And I KNOW good writing when
I see it, and honey, you have one of the best blogs I've ever seen (if
not THE best), and I also KNOW that you have something nobody can
teach. You either have it, or you don't. And you've GOT it-- you
have had it the whole time!
It's that good.
If you haven't read her yet, go, and dig through the archives.
9/28/2004
really, my work day is not so different from my day at home.
except what i am wearing (blue t-shirt, no bra, blue checked shorts, rumpled hair, no makeup, glasses, pink striped socks, Tevas)
i still make the blog rounds, check and answer email, drink coffee, go to the bathroom.
what sucks, though, is I left the Garden State CD at work.
and I had to make lunch forlittle other people.
and I keep getting propositioned by this young, handsome dude wearing only white briefs to come sit on the couch with him and watch cartoons.
except what i am wearing (blue t-shirt, no bra, blue checked shorts, rumpled hair, no makeup, glasses, pink striped socks, Tevas)
i still make the blog rounds, check and answer email, drink coffee, go to the bathroom.
what sucks, though, is I left the Garden State CD at work.
and I had to make lunch for
and I keep getting propositioned by this young, handsome dude wearing only white briefs to come sit on the couch with him and watch cartoons.
Drawing 101
Here is a sample of what I did on Erev Yom Kippur.
No, it's not me-- I copied it out of the drawing book. Like it said to. (Stop snickering, I know it's bad-- that's the point!)
Last night, Liza came over with permanent hair dye, and I had some magenta to fix.
Four hours later...
We had both dyed our hair a lighter color and NOTHING happened.
So, with wet, dark heads, we went to Walmart and bought more dye. Lighter dye.
We put that on our heads. A little something happened.
I put highlights on Liza, and I was so tired, I should have insisted on the cap for what she wanted, I should have kept the bleach on longer.
She got lovely chunks, but too red for her taste, too chunky. So, this morning, she bought dark brown and colored over.
I ended up with what Liza called "Titian" hair, which I highlighted very quickly, dragging the green instrument through my hair.
I have not had time to think about it today. I have two puppies home today coughing their little allergy brains out. The school called to leave a message that they did not know where the children were. Apparently, they also called the children's father.
I called the school and said, "Why, they are with me their mother, because they need more rest and they are coughing and snuffling."
Then the phone rang, and it was their father.
Did I keep them home because of the coughing (bingo! this has been going on for awhile)? Yes. Are you going to call the doctor? No. Do you have medicine? Yes. Is the other child at school?
Yes.
Let me tell you, if I did not in fact know where my children were when I got that phone message, it would have completely freaked my shit. I am surprised the ex did not freak on me. What happened to the golden days of my youth? Child stays home, next day, parent sends a note.
She writes as for the second time she sneezes all over the screen and keyboard.
No, it's not me-- I copied it out of the drawing book. Like it said to. (Stop snickering, I know it's bad-- that's the point!)
Last night, Liza came over with permanent hair dye, and I had some magenta to fix.
Four hours later...
We had both dyed our hair a lighter color and NOTHING happened.
So, with wet, dark heads, we went to Walmart and bought more dye. Lighter dye.
We put that on our heads. A little something happened.
I put highlights on Liza, and I was so tired, I should have insisted on the cap for what she wanted, I should have kept the bleach on longer.
She got lovely chunks, but too red for her taste, too chunky. So, this morning, she bought dark brown and colored over.
I ended up with what Liza called "Titian" hair, which I highlighted very quickly, dragging the green instrument through my hair.
I have not had time to think about it today. I have two puppies home today coughing their little allergy brains out. The school called to leave a message that they did not know where the children were. Apparently, they also called the children's father.
I called the school and said, "Why, they are with me their mother, because they need more rest and they are coughing and snuffling."
Then the phone rang, and it was their father.
Did I keep them home because of the coughing (bingo! this has been going on for awhile)? Yes. Are you going to call the doctor? No. Do you have medicine? Yes. Is the other child at school?
Yes.
Let me tell you, if I did not in fact know where my children were when I got that phone message, it would have completely freaked my shit. I am surprised the ex did not freak on me. What happened to the golden days of my youth? Child stays home, next day, parent sends a note.
She writes as for the second time she sneezes all over the screen and keyboard.
9/27/2004
I think I'm gonna do it!
How exciting!
There is a little smile about my lips, a flush on my face.
I have done it twice before.
And I have often thought I should do it again.
And now I have a chance.
And I won't be doing it alone...
It's so exciting!
I'm really going to do it!
Wish me luck!
You know, you can do it, too...
Karl, you especially should do it.
And Liza? You are definitely doing it.
There is a little smile about my lips, a flush on my face.
I have done it twice before.
And I have often thought I should do it again.
And now I have a chance.
And I won't be doing it alone...
It's so exciting!
I'm really going to do it!
Wish me luck!
You know, you can do it, too...
Karl, you especially should do it.
And Liza? You are definitely doing it.
9/26/2004
Don'tcha hate it when...
the color on the color box says, "light amber brown" but the color on your head turns out to be 
?
Yeah, me too.
?
Yeah, me too.
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