Wednesday, April 29, 2009
Pft.
There are just some people in this world who are mean and uncaring. That's just how it is. I used to think that those people would eventually change and become nice and understanding if only I could make them see the unicorn rainbows, but alas, I was wrong. I cannot make people see the good. There are just some people that are stuck that way. Enjoy your bitterness and your hatred, ye ol haters. You'll have to lie in your bed now that you've made it.
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
My first orchid success
I've had some pretty good gardening successes. Mostly veggies and flowers in my garden in San Diego -- we were almost completely veggie-sustainable last summer. But it's taken me two years of hard work to get my first orchid success. The damn things are PICKY! But we have a whole bunch of blooms coming out of this one and they sparkle in the sunlight. I'm most proud of this accomplishment out of all the gardening work. And thanks to Nicolita for giving me the flower for my birthday in 2007!
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Crossing my fingers. You should cross yours too.
Simpsons references make you cooler than anyone else
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Lightning bolt, lightning bolt!!
Thursday, April 23, 2009
LEAVES!
A year ago, I wouldn't have thought this was a big deal, but good god, I'm so excited! Spring is here! After getting up this morning and feeding the dogs, I took my bagel out on the back patio and sat for a minute to wake up. Just for a second, I glanced up and noticed that our backyard trees are blooming! Yay! They have little tiny miniscule leaves poking out of their buds and they're the brightest neon green you've ever seen. What a great way to start an 80-degree spring day. *Sigh*
Friday, April 17, 2009
Because snow is still novel to me
Another spring storm and another day of funny photos of doggies and snow flakes. This is all still novel to me after being in 72-degree San Diego for a decade. It's pretty awesome to walk outside and enjoy giant palm-sized flakes.
The real snow didn't start to accumulate until about 11 a.m. but when it started, the dogs were a little suspect about going out into it. Here they are gazing out the window at the robins who were hopping around on the snowy lawn.
The flakes started to stack up really quick.
Lucy got a lot of snowflakes in her eyes and was worried about the well-being of the onion plant in the back yard pot.
Lucy got a lot of snowflakes in her eyes and was worried about the well-being of the onion plant in the back yard pot.
Our "For Rent" sign wasn't too visible to passersby.
All these pretty tulips have been coming up out of the ground in the last two weeks and now they're all weighed down by the freeze.
The robins were bothering Lucy all day, but she was being very good and not chasing them. But when one of them pranced and hopped right in front of her (you can see the little tracks), she took off and taught it a lesson.
After a long day, the doggies like to fall asleep holding tails.
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Job interviews
I often have trouble deciding the appropriate attire for job interviews. Some of the ones I am doing are stated as casual and others I wear heels and a pencil skirt. But sometimes it's just in between enough that I don't know where to go with it. I think that should be part of a job posting: "wear this when you come to interview." Oh well, I'll wing it and wow them with my (ha!) glowing personality.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Hike on Easter
We spent the morning hiking through a very Lord of the Rings-esque forest above Boulder, enjoying the cool air and mist and the space where our dogs could run. It was one of the best Easters I can remember in a long time. It was something my brother would have thoroughly enjoyed, maybe even reveled in. For some reason I woke up literally feeling like my brother would be downstairs. Maybe I was dreaming that he was visiting or something. But when I woke up, I tumbled down the stairs with a bit of anticipation. Sometimes I just lose the dogear and turn to the wrong page.
The last hour I spent with my brother was 30 minutes before he died. We met at the dog park and walked around while Del rolled around in the grass and pounced on other dogs from behind trees and bushes. It was raining and misty that day, exactly as it was today, and we were bundled up in inappropriately thin sweatshirts. It was December and seasonably cold. And since then, I don't picture my brother in any other situation but a rainy one. So on rainy days I think of him more, expect his presence and usually revel in the connection between us. We were raised in the rain. We loved the rain. We were ourselves in the rain.
"Brother you don't need to turn me away. I was waiting down at the ancient gates. You go wherever you go today. You go today. I remember how they took you down. As the winter turned the meadow brown ... When out walking brother don't you forget, it ain't often you'll ever find a friend." (Pecknold)
Maybe I'll head back to Mykonos one day.
The last hour I spent with my brother was 30 minutes before he died. We met at the dog park and walked around while Del rolled around in the grass and pounced on other dogs from behind trees and bushes. It was raining and misty that day, exactly as it was today, and we were bundled up in inappropriately thin sweatshirts. It was December and seasonably cold. And since then, I don't picture my brother in any other situation but a rainy one. So on rainy days I think of him more, expect his presence and usually revel in the connection between us. We were raised in the rain. We loved the rain. We were ourselves in the rain.
"Brother you don't need to turn me away. I was waiting down at the ancient gates. You go wherever you go today. You go today. I remember how they took you down. As the winter turned the meadow brown ... When out walking brother don't you forget, it ain't often you'll ever find a friend." (Pecknold)
Maybe I'll head back to Mykonos one day.
Friday, April 10, 2009
Between grief and mourning
There is an acute difference between grief and mourning. This difference was entirely unapparent to me until reading Joan Didion's homage to death, "The Year of Magical Thinking." While I'm not entirely convinced by the Vanity Fair set, Didion wallows in my own pond. A murky pond full of darkness and sleeplessness and utter helplessness at the hands of someone's death. Her description of life after death resides in that difference.
"Until now I had only been able to grieve, not mourn," she writes. "Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention."
And perhaps it is this active method of mourning that has me (us) so entirely exhausted. Perhaps it is this mourning that more than a year after Garrett's death threw me beyond the scope of normal function, of day-to-day ability, to a realm where I could do nothing but be sad and sit. Perhaps it is the act of mourning that has my life turned upside down, without meaning or direction. Perhaps it is mourning that I needed all along.
"Until now I had only been able to grieve, not mourn," she writes. "Grief was passive. Grief happened. Mourning, the act of dealing with grief, required attention."
And perhaps it is this active method of mourning that has me (us) so entirely exhausted. Perhaps it is this mourning that more than a year after Garrett's death threw me beyond the scope of normal function, of day-to-day ability, to a realm where I could do nothing but be sad and sit. Perhaps it is the act of mourning that has my life turned upside down, without meaning or direction. Perhaps it is mourning that I needed all along.
Wednesday, April 8, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
I am jobless
Yes, I am jobless. And yes, it was by choice that I originally became this way, but it makes it no less difficult. I was epically unhappy, that is for sure. I hated myself, I hated my days and I hated what I did. That's no way to live. But I'm starting to think that the way I'm feeling about myself now, as a job searcher, is no less debilitating. I feel like I'm suddenly lined up on the school athletic field, sneakers all laced, ready to get picked for a team. Any team. And no one will pick me. I'm alone, standing on the field in shame as my other, more boisterous team members are playing softball or something equally fun. And getting paid to do it.
And it's not like I'm the equivalent of a career troll either. I am educated (master's from USC with honors and the like), I have a great professional history, I'm hardworking and I've never once been fired. And yet, I'm stranded out in no-man's land. There are some jobs out there -- clerical, administrative, office positions -- but I'd be right back in the canoe that I sailed into Colorado with. Maybe my limbo, and my feeling of helplessness, has more to do with not knowing what career would actually fulfill me. That mid-career feeling of, "Am I working to make a living or am I living to work?"
There is very little that I've enjoyed doing in the last year or so, which has more to do with life circumstances than it does with career goals. Teaching was fun, but there are very few jobs here in Colorado for adjuncts in the communication or journalism market. I'm a bit jaded on that anyway. So I go back to my own aptitudes and I think what I seek more than anything is a feeling of control and the ability to use my plethora of ideas in a setting where they benefit ME. (And not Boss Man.) I think that's best demonstrated by all the things I've tried. In a decade I've been a Mexican restaurant hostess, a horse camp director, a surgical office assistant, a soccer coach, a bookstore clerk, a ski rentals representative, a journalist, a marketing guru, a researcher, a record label manager, a professor and an everywoman. That's a lot of stuff to pile into one life of work.
So where do I focus? Where was I happiest? Where do I take this creative energy and use it to build something? Pick me! Pick me! Pick me! Pick me!
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