Monday, November 17, 2008
Writing journal
I'm quick to answer myself by saying, "Well, if you'd been just writing writing writing all semester, something would be taking shape by now." I feel enormous pressure to start "doing things right" when I write. Now that I know better; now that I've gone through this writing class, I should know all these ways to make it easier to write and revise. While this is true, I know it's a matter of practice.
For now, I need to get some writing done on a subject that feels pretty unfamiliar to me. I've found myself relying on Elbow's suggestion to write even if it means making up facts. I'm trying to write two pages a day, though I only have two viable paragraphs. When I fantasize about writing two pages a day it feels pretty low-pressure. Pretty effortless. I'm sitting at my desk or at Anodyne just letting it rip. Words are streaming out through my fingers and it doesn't even matter if they make sense. I can deal with that part later. But it's clearly not happening that way. I sit at my desk and try to let go; I try and tell my writing it's okay to come out. There's no pressure, really. Somehow, however, my writing knows I'm full of it. It knows it needs to show up to the big writing party on Wednesday.
So the question becomes: how do you trick your writing to come under pressure? How can I get out of the way so I have something to bring in on Wednesday? Tonight, I'm going to spend some time editing two pages of my writing for Thursday and then try and do as much free writing as possible. No pressure.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Today
First, I will finish the critical essay in Phaedrus. When I'm done, I will go have some lunch at a place I like. Then, I'll see Margaret, which will surely contribute to my funky mood. When I get home, I'll pack up my books and computer and go to the coffee shop. I will write a response paper for Classic Rhetoric and finish my revisions before dinner. I'm not in the mood to cook dinner, so I'll likely order something for me and Meridith. Maybe Chinese. After dinner, I'll continuing editing and prepare for classes tomorrow.
I'm trying to think about what it would have taken for me to get this done with less rush. I worked all weekend, but stopped work once I hit my "work quotas" for the day. I think I just set the quotas too low. And, we were suppose to go to Michigan to see the fall leaves. We cancelled because we had too much work. That made me feel crappy and unmotivated. Seems that the mood has persisted into the week.
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
Writing journal entry
I long to produce nice writing. Writing that makes an impression and is fun to read. Back in English 701 I read an essay written by a colleague and friend that was so very good and smart. It was such a neat surprise because I hadn't read any of her writing; I didn't yet know she had such talent. Anyway, I was absolutely enchanted with this essay. Thrilled. Captured. It was so smart and good and clearly right on. My essay, on the other hand, was very orderly and clean. It knitted together several complicated arguments and concluded with something punchy like, "as you can see, these ideas remain contentious." It probably took me a while to write whereas, I'm sure, she'd gotten hers off hours before. I started to feel that something better was possible.
Boy, it was so good. It didn't make me feel all nervous and self conscious the way the pleasure from reading good writing does. Sometimes the intimacy of reading good writing makes me feel very nervous. Her's didn't. Maybe because there was just enough "smartness" to keep some of the icky closeness at bay.
I fell in love with the expository essay in high school when I discovered its form helped me hide from having to write about or feel feelings. Once, when I was thirteen, I attempted to write a short story. It was about a young oboe player who, during her freshman year at St. Olaf college in Minnesota, fell in love with another young, female trombone player. There may have been a marching band scene...I don't quite recall. (St. Olaf doesn't even have a football team!) Anyway, it so terrified me that I rolled up the loose-leaf notebook paper, emptied a yellow fish-food container of its contents, shoved the roll inside and haven't opened it since.
But, I still have it.
Anyway, the point is I cannot fathom writing anything like Lamott describes in her book. Inventing characters? What? A plot? Are you serious?
So here's the confession. I am terrified by creative writers. It's true. They scare the crap out of me. I've recently taken to golfing with one or two, but that's about as close as I get. I feel like a terribly uptight German grandmother around them.
But the fact remains: my writing evidences this particular character.
Elbow and Lamott agree. You have to get out of the way a little bit. I'm hoping that these two writers give me a bit of permission to try for something better in my writing. Something that doesn't make one pucker while reading it. I think taking some risks in my early drafts will help generate at least one or two bits of that nice writing.
Thursday, September 25, 2008
Writing journal post for Thursday
-I was absolutely panicked. My committee wasn't giving me any feedback about my writing, despite my repeated requests. Everyone kept saying to just keep writing...the ideas are good. We wouldn't let you proceed if we thought you would fail. I wanted someone to tell me (give me permission?) to scale the thing down. I wanted someone to give me some critical feedback about my writing. I received two helpful comments: 1) the theory was too dense and the reader couldn't understand what I was trying to say and 2) if I was going to make a request of a reader I needed to be clear about it. This was helpful.
-People wanted to see the theory attached to something material or personal. I should open with a story about how these ideas were connected to my life. Some members wanted me to historically situate the piece. Some wanted me to address accents and class. I felt overwhelmed and guilty that I could not attend to all these things. So I sutured things together; it felt very forced and outside of my scope of knowledge. I can now identify places in this text where I was writing to meet the specific requests of my committee.
-I called my chair, crying, "I just can't write! I don't know what to say! I don't know how to do this!" Just keep writing. Keep writing. Write. Unrelated to my project I met with JG. Right. For advice about PhD stuff. I mentioned my writing troubles. She said it was probably because the project was out of control and too large. This was the permission I needed and tried to heed. Well, I think I tried to do this but kept receiving advice from my committee. This analysis is missing, that analysis is missing. Situate yourself. Talk about the historical context. Too abstract. What kind of advise do I really want? I'm clearly not asking the right questions.
This piece has voice problems. It's a paper on voice without one. Or with too many. Who was my audience? I asked myself this question when I was writing it and couldn't answer. I thought it was me. Or my committee. I'm still not sure. I need to realize that I do have something to say. I didn't believe that when I was writing it.
My writing style is a mess! I was taught to write by sociologists and philosophers. Now I am in an English program and there is little "life" in my writing. I am present in my writing only by virtue of the "good ideas" present in the text. That was valuable--voice messed up the ideas. But what a screw if you can't actually resonate with the good ideas! No one mentioned that part--that you must actually write so others can understand you. Also, I think if you somehow internalize that you don't have anything to say it's easier to hide behind bad writing.
How was I rewarded for bad writing? I'm still rewarded for bad writing. This feels unfair and stupid. I feel some anger about this. Like I've been duped! Once I took JG's class on Sedgwick I realized this. It scared me so much I almost talked myself out of coming back for the PhD. There were other things going on (mom's gravely ill) but I saw what I needed to do to make a go at this thing and decided, "to hell with writing anyway." Yet, somehow, I'm in this class. I feel like I'm going to be undone by this process. And that's good and necessary.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Writing journal post for Monday
I reflected on the nagging "bad" feelings about the paper and felt pretty comfortable thinking I could get to that "good" writing in a few more drafts. This gave me comfort and a sense of control. If I worked on this paper every day in the morning for just an hour, after a week or two I think it would say what I wanted it to. Right now it feels unruly and rushed. This is a positive change in my thinking about writing. I usually put an inordinate amount of pressure to "write right the first time." Especially if it's for a short response paper. But the issues in the texts are complicated and it takes time to work things out. I had the feeling that this paper could come together in the future and that I would know how to make that happen. In the past I would retreat to that "out of body" experience feeling and just float through the difficult feelings about a piece of writing. I feel pretty positive about this small change.
My morning route
On days when I don't commute I find myself feeling pretty depressed. Otherwise, I feel amazing, light, and happy. It's a very stark contrast that I'm not accustomed to feeling. I want to share my route, mainly because Google enables photos and other interesting interactive features. In this way, I feel that I can share a small piece of my commute with anyone who may be reading!
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Cheers!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Steep learning curves, pt. II
Well, I'm not yet a commuter nor have I logged many miles on the machine. I'd like to think that my early fall is a sign that I'm ahead of the curve, so to speak, in becoming a "real" cyclist.
Learning curve #2: Never, ever take your eyes off the road to untangle your foot from the toe clips. Even if your foot is really, really tangled.
My right foot got all snaggled in my toe clip and I looked down for two seconds to try and fix it when BAM! My front tire smacks into a 6 inch high curb and I'm over the handlebars before I can say, "holy fucking shit!" I skid on my face for a bit, though my helmet absorbed most of the impact. The worst part was knowing my splayed out-ass was on display for every passing car. Once I collected myself, scattered bits of my taillight and reconnected my left brake cable, I proceeded shakily up Rt. 32 toward campus:
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I'm glad I fell into a parking lot and not back into the road. So far I am extremely happy I made the decision to switch to the bike. I feel amazing--totally empowered and healthy. I'm in a better mood when I get to campus and sleep like a baby at night. I've already lost a pound or two (I can tell) and I feel totally alive and present in the day.
Miles biked: 30
Monday, September 15, 2008
Steep learning curves or, my first bicycle commute
So, of course, bicycle commuting is amazing. I feel completely great (a little sore in key places) and very accomplished. Unfortunately, as I already knew, people in cars hate bicyclists. I made the grave mistake of flipping off a redneck in a truck when he almost took out me and another cyclist in the bike lane. He pulled a u-turn and came after us in his truck. Fortunately a news van was right next to us and saw the whole thing. The dude in the truck was absolutely screaming his head off but knew, I think, that the news van was staying close to us. He pulled another u-turn in the middle of the road and took off the other way. The news guy drove next to me as I pedaled and offered to call the cops. He made sure I was okay (the other bicyclist turned down a side street) and I said I was fine. What an ordeal. People are totally on the edge.
I feel lucky to have the opportunity to go by bike. I've been wanting to do it for a long time and finally made it happen. It's a good day!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Reading your own writing
Saturday, September 6, 2008
A writing journal entry
I am sick of these good ideas sounding insane and/or terrible. And I'm uncertain whether the pleasure I might derive from "giving it up," so to speak, will suffice. I don't know why I feel that I can't feel pleasure from multiple creative outlets. For example, sometimes I feel like I am betraying my preferred creative medium, music, if I spend too much time on the craft of writing. That's bizarre. I don't mean to get too personal with this journal, but sometimes I fear that I made the wrong choice switching from music to English. This is because I have great and lauded musical talent and receive pleasure from "giving it up" in that way. And, not writing well shields me from feeling--something that I enjoy most in the privacy of my own bounded physical space. Putting writing out there is risky in a way that externalizing music seems to not be risky. I wonder, however, if I actually played the piece I authored if it would be different. Certainly; replication with personal inflection is a less risky venture than splattering something onto a blank sheet of paper.
It will be good to set some boundaries with this writing business. Like individuating me and "the writing." Let's just say individuation is something I'm working on across the board. Why should this be any different?
Thursday, September 4, 2008
An entry on writing
Fair enough. I've been thinking a lot about writing since borrowing DG's "Creative non-fiction" book. Crap. Where is it? I don't know the title of the book and can't seem to find it. Anyway, this book argues that there is an artificial and unnecessary distinction between creative and non-fiction writing. I was not terribly interested in this thesis but found the writing exercises interesting. It's really too late in the evening to be doing this, so I'll return to it later. With this blog post I wanted to establish this reflective practice early, which I did. So, good.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
The Arban's Method

This is the book every trumpet player I know learned from. M walked in the other day and asked if the music displayed was really for the trumpet. The exercises are really quite excellent; I doubt I could even do 1/3 of the book anymore.I like having it displayed--even showing a bit of "sheet music" in the space makes me feel more comfortable in it.
Otherwise, the place is pretty sparse. I need to relax and not try and acquire things all at once. There is something seemingly pleasurable about finding unique pieces one by one. After 12 years of consecutive moves I find I don't have much of anything. As such, I've had to buy a lot of household goods just to get up and running. I think I'm going to try and second hand/thrift the rest.
I have one of my favorite internet radio stations on right now: radioio Standards. A bit ago the DJ played a Miles Davis (maybe Davis and Coltrane?) track that I love. I remember listening to "So What" in Bloomington when I was living with T and thinking how much I wanted my own space to be and do whatever I wanted. It felt very appropriate to be hearing it again, five years later, in my own space. I'm very happy that we decided to separate living spaces; I think it's important to have the experience of figuring out exactly what you like. For economic reasons, I've never had that opportunity until now. Well, I still don't really have the economic opportunity, but more than in the past. Now I'm just babbling--pretty tired. Short post.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Journaling as life practice
The next journal, chronologically, begins 8/30/07. I had just spent the summer as a counselor at Blue Lake Fine Arts Camp in Twin Lake, MI and was back at ISU for band camp. This entry dated 9/1 is particularly telling:
"2:00 a.m. Well, this has to be the worst day in my entire life. No, it doesn't have to be the worst, is IS-or has been, at least. I was in the middle of lamenting when grandpa called. Mom's in the hospital. D is sleeping with S. Things are bad. Before when things got bad I had D. Now I'm alone. I'm sitting on my Oriental rug, alone with swollen eyes and a headache. D's nowhere to be found. After I got off the phone w/her she told M that she was leaving town. I wonder if she went up to St. Joe's. I still can't believe she and S slept together. It makes me sick. But, I can't get past this. My mother's in the hospital and I'm obsessing over D. I have no way of getting to Chicago. I'm flat broke. I called her to beg for money but she's not there. I have a funny feeling she won't even show to the parade tomorrow. My world is collapsing around me. After grandpa called I panicked because I couldn't find anyone. I called M and she ran over and took care of me. I think I learned the value of friendship tonight. It was so good to be taken care of and in an apartment cared for. I have this awful, eerie feeling that my life's going to be thrown into a total tailspin. I sensed my grandfather's desparate [sic] need for my presence, or strength at home. Just like grandma. Just like mom. Just like I predicted would happen. I want my own life, Goddamnit. I will not step into that strong family member position. I need to be cared for. God Damn you D! I wonder if she's coming back? What should I do? If I go home, who knows if I'll get to come back. N needs me. I think that's why The Chosen is so...close to home. Funny timing about that book. I finished it today, ironically. Somehow I sense that today I relish myself and my freedom. We're never really free, though. I will not abandon my sister to save my [edit] self. As much as [edit] need to be freed, it just can't happen right now. Grandpa said even when the whole hospital schpeel [sic] is over mom won't accept the family. Where does that put me? Here, with no bottom for support? There, being the back bone? I know my mother needs support. In a sense I'm going through the same thing. But D wanted some sort of re...another phone call. I guess she's coming over. How can I face her when I know she was with S the night before? Because I can't get over her. M would do anything in the world for me yet all I want is D. After everything she's done. I want my mom. And my sister. And my dad. And Bob. Grandma....Anything safe. And familiar. I have nothing. No past. No foundation. No mom, no dad, no Bob. No D. Nothing. I will fill that role my mom and grandma filled. Because I have no choice. If mom doesn't pull through it's me. Dad won't let me drop out to take care of Nat, but I won't allow her to go over there. Not ever. Mom might be in the hospital for a long time. Dad will get custody because mom's in a mental ward. Why is D coming over? Why does she care? Why do I care? I need to be with my sister. Someone needs to take care of me. Because I'm dying inside. School will always be here...family-Natalie needs me. I wish I knew what to do. I will go and take care of my sister. I'll get a job. Keep reading. Keep listening. [edit] My mom has to pull through. For now, I have to help. I swear to God that my father will not get my sister. If it's the LAST thing I do on this Earth."
This journal begins on 5/8/98. It's the one I am spending the most time with right now. I could blog about this stuff for days. That's taxing and boring. As such, I'm just going to excerpt from this one for now. That's enough intensity for today.
"11/10/98. My life can never be left alone. I fee like I'm never going to escape my family. I'm trying to reclaim all my loans, financial aid, credit cards--everything they promised to help with but didn't. I can't believe that my own mother would charge $1400.00 on a credit card in my name, deny she made the charges and then then [sic] scream at me when I asked if she knew anything. I don't understand what I ever did to deserve this. I can't imagine anyone's mom or dad doing this to their kid. I know I'm not the best at budgeting, but I'm trying so hard to stay afloat. Ever since I started college, it's been one hardship after another. I can't imagine anyone getting through this. I want to be supportive of mom because she was always there for me. That, and I feel like an emotional hostage. If I am angry, or whatever, she could lose her mind. Mom always asks why I don't trust anyone in the family. Who could? She and dad made promises to me. Help pay for school, help pay credit cards. And, nevermind [sic] the fact that when they can't come through with the promises, they don't tell me about financial deliquencies [sic]. And they're all in my fucking name: I just don't know what to do. I'm so angry. I don't trust anyone, at all. I'm worried about my sister's well being. Where is the line that one must distinguish between enabling and being sympathetic."
Whew. These are some intense journal entries. I'm just starting to get in touch with how crazy the last 10 years have been. Reading and reflecting on these archives helps remember how I felt in the moment. This is only the tip of the iceberg, really; I have eight journals that span 1996-2004. I'm not quite sure what to do with all this material. I might post some entries from the 2004-2005 period. That was when things really started to change in my life, I think. This is enough for now.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
More
There are several very aggravating things about this statement. First, it's never her fault...for anything. She is never to blame for the shitty things that "happen" to her. It of course, wasn't 30 years of chain smoking, blatant negligence of her diabetes, refusal of physical therapy when she broke her ankle (and subsequent blood clot ensued), obesity, etc...Because, these things just happen, you know? Out of the blue! Can you imagine the luck?
And, once absolved, I am the one who looks like a dick for expressing doubt or annoyance that this is just another such and such X that happened. My therapist said to me the other day, "You should prepare for your mother to have, perhaps, not such a happy ending." However, there are others who are committed (for whatever reason) to providing 24/7 in-home care for her. Often, at his and her own expense. Her primary partner/care-taker in TN seems to be enabling her dependencies all the more. S is in complete denial of her situation: "What are you thinking about with regard for your immediate, future care? You seem to not be able to bathe, feed yourself, care for your cats, pay your rent or utilities, etc...How are you going to manage those tasks?" To which, she replies, "E is going to split the rent with me and I'm thinking of getting one of those voice-activated computers..."
Rather than describe in minutiae the many problematics with this reply, I will say only that this is the craziest mother-fucking shit I've ever heard. I want to completely sever my ties with this toxicity and sickness and craziness. I don't want to be angry with S every time she calls. She is, I fear, headed for a sad ending. I'm just not sure what I can/want to do about it. I feel "obligated" as her progeny, to act on her behalf. As such, I feel pretty much in a holding pattern. One that feels completely unreal and "float-y." If I don't think about this fucked up situation every day, however, I feel pretty clear and happy about the summer.
Which is a good segue to part II of, "More."
Money. It's fucking hard to get a job. I have a second interview for a company that translates documents. It's a project manager position that, honestly, I probably won't end up getting. There are so many overqualified people out there scrambling for a job. I have a MASTER'S DEGREE, people! Why can't I get a M-Fing job? I've sent out 45 resumes in 7 weeks. ONE interview, four rejection letters, and the rest is lost in the aether. I just need a little stability in my life, you know? Been floating around for 10 or so years...trying to get by on nothing. It seems too much to even dream of ever paying off this oppressive college debt, owning a home, maybe my own car or bicycle.
More. Belly! I have it! It's gotta go! Period.
Friday, June 13, 2008
The Crone
Question: What kind of energy will I receive from all these job applications I've been putting into the world?
"The Crone is the old wise woman who watches over our dreams and visions, who whispers secrets to our inner ears. As Nor Hall puts it, 'the old woman, who is regarded as the teacher of 'song, story and spindle,' is the Hag who know how to call down the power of the moon, to converse with spirits and work magical spells...When you get the Crone in a reading, it almost certainly means a time of solitude. Usually this inner time comes as a blessing, but at first you may feel a sense of loneliness. Mostly this comes from enculturation, which tells you that it's bad to be alone. If you can relax and enjoy this opportunity, you will gain from time spent in self-study. Learning to hear with the inner ear can be frightening at first, since the messages you get probably won't match up with what you've been taught. Hekate is a great truth-teller (soothsayer) and once you are in contact with her, your own truths will begin to surface.You are at a crossroads, a time of decision and renewal. Hekate takes you down into the unconscious and guides you through it, showing you where you troubles are and offering choices and possibilities you may never have previously dreamed of. Sometimes this experience comes at around the age of twenty-eight or twenty-nine, when a person experiences what astrologers call her 'Saturn return.'"
This card is intense for several reasons. First, I wrote about the Saturn Return in my previous post, so getting this message after I've been thinking about it feels like a strong message. Second, I drew this card when I was having a hard time writing my MA project paper. I was obsessed (negatively) with the lack of mentorship from my committee members. LE pointed out during that reading that the Crone could be a positive force in my writing process and that maybe I needed to turn inward and trust my own abilities and powers. I thought about this card many times during the writing process and feel like it helped me through that difficult process. I'm not sure how to interpret the card in relation to this question, however. Certainly it makes sense that it's tied up with the Saturn Return business; this is a most difficult, turbulent and transitional period of my life. I haven't received much positive feedback about the applications/résumés I've put out there, though it's only been about a month. My sense is that I will have to wait longer to know anything about a job...a process that can be very introspective and self-critical. Somehow I feel that this card is a sign that I'm making the right decision about taking a leave of absence from school in order to work. I am at a crossroads, literally a time of "decision and renewal." It feels important for this period to be positive and productive...and introspective. I checked out several books about writing résumés and cover letters from the public library. If nothing else, I've gotten in touch with some talents and skills that were obscured by the narrow scope of my graduate studies.
Question: What kind of prospect(s) does mom have of getting back on her feet by her own efforts?
Two of Wands, "Balance"
"The Two of Wands depicts a visit from an ancestor-figure who brings a vision or message concerning the way to make fire. Making fire is an important thing to understand, since it is the means to everything in life. In most cultures, the discovery of fire is originally attributed to women. Perhaps the woman here is kindling the libido or fire of the body. Perhaps the fire of energy and action. In either case, fire is Shakti--the means of getting what we want.The Two of Wands signifies the harnessing of one's personal power-learning how to use the fire that was born in the Ace. The receiving part of the personality is open to leaning; she watches and listens carefully as the older spirit shows her how to create the fire by friction. The active part of the personality is demonstrative, patiently teaching a skill that will be useful throughout life. The dream-vision shown in the Motherpeace image signifies that the intuition is awakening--a form of fire that precedes verbal communication. The personality may have flashes of insight or understanding if what it is capable of doing."
I phrased this question carefully because I am interested in what Susan is capable of doing (for) herself. The card seems to positively indicate that it is important to learn fundamental skills: "Making fire is an important thing to understand, since it is the means to everything in life." Making fire is something that the dream-vision cannot actually do for the young figure in the card; she needs to learn how to do it herself in order to do anything else. It is a fundamental task in life; if it can't be learned, it's hard to know how this figure will go on to do other things. I feel similarly about Susan. She seems to lack the knowledge or ability to do very basic things in life. However, it's hard to discern whether she is not capable or not learning (or both, or neither). I think I feel the urgency for her to build the knowledge to succeed and the need for it to come from an "older spirit," of which I am not.
I'm reading a book titled, My Parents Keeper: Adult Children of the Emotionally Disturbed. The OED defines disturbed as, " disquieted; agitated; having the settled state, order, or position interfered with." I prefer to use this definition as the secondary (spec. in Psychiatry, emotionally or mentally unstable or abnormal; also (orig. U.S.), designed for or occupied by disturbed patients) seems to have a stigmatized connotation. And, it is interesting that its use in psychiatry originated in the U.S.
Anyway, the book has been very helpful for many reasons. The writing helps me put my own adolescence and adulthood in perspective. There are several personal accounts of experiences with ED parents and I realize I am one of those people. I'm reading a section on the "aging parent" right now. Susan's aging seems accelerated...she's only 58 but already experiencing bodily and mental failure. Tonight I learned the doctors have declared her mentally unfit to make her own decisions. This sent my sister and me scrambling to get the right paperwork for the doctors to appoint a surrogate in place of her own documented wishes. This is especially frustrating for me; when she came up to Milwaukee after my surgery I asked her to think about putting this paperwork in place: "If not for you, then for us. We don't want to be in the position to have to make really hard decisions without knowing your wishes..." Fast-forward to, well, now and notice that she did not take that up. In fact, she was so offended I suggested it that she left Milwaukee early, leaving me to care for myself post-surgery.
So. This is what I'm up to. My desire to run that 5k is still present. I put up a new running schedule on the fridge this afternoon.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Saturn Return
Saturn return
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
"The Saturn return is a regular astronomical occurrence relevant to the practice of astrology which occurs in a person's life at approximately 27–30 years of age and again around the age of 58–60, with the third and usually final occurrence around 86-88. The planet Saturn takes approximately 29.5 years to orbit the Sun; when it returns to the exact degree along the ecliptic it occupied at the time of a person's birth this is referred to as their "Saturn Return".
Saturn is symbolically/astrologically associated with time, challenge, fear, doubt, confusion, difficulty, seriousness, heaviness, unwanted burdens and hard lessons, among other more positive things such as structure, significance, accomplishment, reflection, power, prestige, maturity, responsibility and order – this is why astrologers believe that the thirtieth birthday is such a major rite of passage and is considered by many astrologers to mark the "true beginning" of adulthood, self-evaluation, independence, responsibility, ambition, and full maturation."
I am here:
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Well, I was here...until a few nights ago I decided to leave my mother's rental house in Chattanooga, TN. Now I'm staying with my sister until tomorrow morning when I leave, thankfully, for Milwaukee. I originally flew down here to spend some time with my mom and sister, primarily to visit with my mom after her big relocation from Bloomington, Illinois to Tennessee. About four weeks ago she took a job with a social service agency but fell ill and was fired.
Ordinarily this would would be a difficult situation, but not devastating. However, I came to the realization, through my mother's physical illness, that she is also mentally ill. It was difficult to even type those words; it's as if I've proscribed a sentence of some sort on her life chances by that act. My sister and I have been living and caring for her, in many ways, since 1996 when my parents divorced. Since that time she has: attempted suicide three times, almost lost custody of my younger sister, been in and out of mental wards, met a man online and moved to Boston, been kicked out of his house, shown up on my doorstep in the throes of a self-induced Paxil withdrawl, moved in with me and my ex-partner, moved into her own apartment, broke her ankle, had her wages garnered, been in court, etc...This scenario was a bit different.
She met a woman while working in a domestic violence shelter six years ago and they've been very much involved in each others' lives since. This woman is amazing and has helped my sister and me more than she'll probably ever know. She and my grandfather have been financially subsidizing my mother's life, however, for many years. See, my mom seems unable to take care of herself and yet, she bemoans the "fact" that no one cares for her. But we've all been caring for her...for so many years. When she moved to Chattanooga I thought she might have a chance of changing her life for the better. She found a great rental house about 20 minutes from my sister and seemed to be into the new job. Two weeks into living here she fell very ill and was diagnosed with a very painful disease called Raynaud's Syndrome. She was also diagnosed with diabetes and the doctors pleaded with her to stop smoking and lose weight. My visit to Chattanooga happened to coincide with the worst of her illness. When I got to the house it was absolutely filthy. This is nothing new, however; my mother has been unable to care for a living space since I was little. She absolutely destroys her immediate surroundings. Since I was going to be staying with her for a week I set to cleaning the place up. It took me two days, but I got her house and car in working order.
The big problem is that I've been doing these kinds of things for twelve years now. Things in her life will fall apart, periodically, and she fails to handle the crisis. As such, a dwindling number of people in her life bear the burden of taking care of her until she's on her feet. My young adult life has been a series of hospital visits, frantic phone calls, emotional lunacy, guilt and worrying whether she'll be able to feed and bathe herself and pay her electric and heat bills.
I can't tell you why it took so long for me to realize this. And I don't know what it means that I finally have. There are so many frightening patterns I've learned from her and I don't know where and when they will present themselves. I do know, however, that she is mentally ill and needs help. And, this help can't come from me or my sister. She has to figure out how to lead her life in a sustainable way--for her. And I can't make other people (Grandpa, Ellen, Natalie) set boundaries in ways that help make their lives more livable. But, I realize now that my life with Susan has been a series of distorted lies and attempts by her to convince those around her that she's, "okay." Her dire illness revealed that vulnerability and I understand that there is so much more going on than I can handle.
It's said that when Saturn Returns you're in for a hell of a ride. Old patterns reveal themselves, lives are rearranged, adulthood begins. I turned thirty in March and this has been absolutely true in my life. I feel for the first time that I can get some help and support for me; I've been hoping for so long that she will just eventually be ok. I thought that if she had help through the rough times that she'd be able to stand on her own feet. But, this isn't the case and I need to take care of my own life. Her reliance on me has been a financial and emotional drain for so many years.
Maybe it feels good to have figured this out. My sister and I have had a chance to talk over some deep and painful memories, hurts, etc...This has been the best part of the whole experience. I feel a rekindled connection to her and intend to strengthen that connection over time.
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Apartment hunting
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The building on the left contains one bedroom apartments. M is considering those, though they're a bit too much money for me. Here are some pictures of those units:
Here is one of the units I'm looking at. One of the studios is a corner unit so the layout is a little bit strange. There's a alcove that is partitioned off from the main living space by French doors. The little closet/library area adjoins the bathroom. There is a small kitchen, pictured below. I like this unit though I think the layout reduces the usable wall and floor space. We're both a bit nervous about the neighborhood; it's near Marquette University and has a reputation for being kind of "rough." I love Bay View and am having a hard time even thinking about leaving it. The area where these buildings are seems to lack a cohesive neighborhood; no coffee shops, restaurants, parks, grocery stores, etc...M just checked out the crime stats and she said the data/blogs aren't good.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Digging in the Dirt
We also planted some flowers in the planter box and a strawberry plant in the clay container. It was good to dig up the old "renter's plot" and put some good soil, manure and plant food in there. We're also on the lookout for a small, tumbler-style composter. Seems like we visited about 4-5 places yesterday and everyone looked at us strange when we mentioned it. I hope that doesn't mean no one is composting!
Monday, May 12, 2008
Chicago AIDS Foundation 5k Run
Miles run in May: 6
Motherpeace for May 12, 2008
Recently I experienced a major block while writing my MA project. I felt as though I had no support and feedback on my ideas and therefore could not write any new material. EE and JK were in town right before "Grandpa W's" passing and we decided to do a reading. I asked a question about my MA project and the lack of support for it; Motherpeace sent back the Crone card and I knew I had to dig deep within and trust myself to get through the writing process. This may sound absurd; however, recalling this card during times of frustration helped me finish my project. I was worried that I couldn't write without direction--this card let me know I had a lot of smart thinking within myself.
I think it would be fun and useful to create an electronic archive of my readings. Often I have wished I'd kept better track of some of the questions asked and cards drawn over the past two years. If anyone is actually reading this, you can find out more information on Motherpeace Tarot here: http://www.motherpeace.com/
Tonight I drew the following cards in relation to the following questions/concerns:"What kind of energy should I bring to my MA project defense tomorrow?"
From, Motherpeace: A Way to the Goddess through Myth, Art, and Tarot: "The Twos are ruled by the Moon and, like the High Priestess, represent receptivity and magnetism. The two is the polar opposite movement to the one, which means it naturally pulls back from the outward or forward action of the one. Twos can be somewhat secretive or private--more unconscious than the one or the three, and quieter. All the twos signify polarity and balance between opposites."
"The Two of Discs depicts the juggling required by a new mother of twins who stands in the center of her busy life and wonders whether she can hold the whole thing together. So far, she's doing pretty well and the babies are happy. But her hands are full, and the film runs on. Sometimes she feels like a two-headed snake writhing in opposite directions, as one baby wants to eay while the other wants to sleep. In the Motherpeace image, the film reels that carry her mental pictures also represent the Celtic wheels and symbols of earth that ground her in ancient power.
She gets her support from the earth, her feet planted firmly like the roots of tall trees drawing nourishment from the soil. She knows she has the means in her body to take care of the needs of her children. The waxing crescent moon in the twilight sky promises her strength and renewal in the difficult work of managing the twin aspects of her creativity. A person is like this young mother is she is trying to balance more than one project at a time, or handling both inner growth and outer achievement at once."
"Should I change direction after my MA or continue on with the PhD at UWM?"
"Eight is a number of change and inspiration. The eights all represent a change of mood from what has gone before and an entering into some new phase that comes directly out of past experience. Ruled by Uranus, they signify movement and new direction. They are definite and external in quality."
"The Eight of Discs represents Craft--apprenticeship in a skill that will take one through life in a grounded way, and a sharing of skills between people. These women are serious in this work, and understand the 'art' of meaningful occupation. Each character in the Motherpeace image is engaged in a particular, individual task, yet they work together toward common goals. One makes a pot from clay, another forms a basket from reeds. A woman sits at a loom and weaves a tapestry, another strings beads for a belt. All these objects are functional, yet made with care and a deep understanding of love and beauty.
The underlying meaning of the Eight of Discs is 'the Path,' suggesting a spiritual undertaking, a movement of the personality onto the more spiritual road of the soul. Native American people embody this understanding of daily work that is infused with spirit--for them, the worlds of spirit and matter are not separate. What is utilitarian must also be beautiful, because it comes from the Mother and is made as an offering back to her. The Zen consciousness of work is similar. Every task is done with the simple understanding that it matters. Work is done for its own sake and not for personal gain or someone else's profit."
"Will this change necessarily involve (a shift toward) music?"
Tower: Shattering the Structure
"The Tower in the traditional Tarot interpretation is representative of destruction and cataclysmic change--and earthshaking stroke of illumination and the end of false consciousness...When you get this card in a reading, brace yourself--you're in for a change. A radical shift is taking place in your life, a flash of illumination. Whether you like what you see or not, you see it. You may not want to move, but the structure is falling out from under you. Prepare yourself for the future, for the past is slipping away before your eyes and things are becoming very clear.
The change may be something that happens to you--and event or situation that transforms you. You may suddenly know your marriage is over, your job is ending, or a new lover has just entered your life and is going to shake everything up. You may have a sudden lucid understanding of your own destructive patterns or addictions and the need for immediate and radical change. These understandings may be momentary, like a lightening bolt, but the effects are far-reaching and will endure. A moment of luminous anger or understanding transforms you from within.
When your kundalini awakens and your spiritual center opens, then you will feel your own shaman-power and the ability to know what is really happening and what to do about it. You will not get lost in the particulars; you will transcend the momentary; and like the priestess in the Motherpeace Tower, you will find yourself raised above mundane levels of life. You may experience very high levels of creative energy. It is your task, then, to interpret what you have seen and heard at these high altitudes where the sacred and profane intersect. What makes you so clear is the fire from within meeting the fire from without. It is control over these fires that makes you powerful.
At the same time that you "high self" can understand and handle what's happening in your life at this time, your personality self may be freaking out. Like the group of people waiting at the foot of the Tower for the advice of the oracular priestess, your personality needs help and guidance during the stress of this transition. Take time to appreciate the difficulties facing you, and be especially cautious with your health and welfare right now. Eat well, get plenty of rest, and don't leave yourself open to accidents or illness.
If possible, open up to the power offered by the Tower card. There is great joy in what Kali holds out to us--profound bliss in the understanding of the soul's immortality and the body's divinity. When these energies move through you, you can experience them physically as well as spiritually, as they reveal to you the highest experiences of spirit simultaneously with the deepest pleasures of the body. It is no accident that Kali is both sexual guru and destroyer, but she slays whatever stands in the way of true appreciation of what is real. She does not ask to escape 'the wheel of life,' but rides it consciously from the center. When you let her into your life, you will experience an increased sensitivity to everything in existence along with a heightened ability to handle whatever comes your way."
Friday, April 11, 2008
Time well spent
I cannot decide
between being deaf or blind
which one suits me best?
I ask myself this question several times a week. "Would you rather be 6'0 or tone-deaf?" "How about a gifted writer who can't hear?" Certainly, getting a PhD in English would be easier. But so would playing basketball.
I think I'm neither funny nor nice. Ron hinted that folks in the department (who remain nameless) think I'm possibly a dick. I'm not sure if I'm possibly a dick or it's possible they do/n't think these things of me. I don't really care, I suppose. The people whom I suspect of these feelings have been a disappointing addition to the department.
i'm still running and lifting on a regular basis. tomorrow i have to write five pages and sunday and monday i must write ten. there must be an easier way to do all this. i'm thinking these thoughts may cohere soon. truthfully, i'm a bit worried about the structure of this paper. what the hell am i trying to do with the frankenstein bit? it seems so freshmen high school to do something on that book...
something is gnawing at me with regard to the voice. it at once seems interesting and completely trite. i feel like for it to be an interesting project i have to be much smarter than i am at this point in time. this means, most likely, that someone will beat me to it. no matter...i'm pretty good at finding interesting ideas to articulate poorly.
so what i think i want to say is this:
the voice plays an important role in your ability to be recognized as a human subject. however, several people downplay the importance of identity markers that transmit along with tambre, vibration, pitch, etc...cavarero has a great idea about devocalizing logos in the service of a relational politics, but in reality her project could never materialize. dolor claims the voice is an object--an excess from the somethingorother. i still can't get a handle on his book in enough time for this project. what makes cavarero's omission interesting and useful is thinking about instances where the voice does matter and should matter. frankenstein is interesting because it speaks to the anxieties around transbodies/voices. frankenstein is not considered human by society because his physical appearance prohibits his "intercourse" with other human beings. thus, he learns the language of the people around him by listening first to the unique properties that are transmitted from one body to his. he figures he will be able to present himself to the blind old man via his voice, first. This instance resonates with the Biblical story of Abraham (or whatever) when he gives his blessing to the wrong son on his death bed. In this instance, his voice masks the monstrosity that makes him "unreadable" to other human beings.
anyway, i need to go to bed. i'm sure the more i write the more will become clear. tomorrow i'll look at several instances in frankenstein that deal with the materiality of the voice versus the content of the speech. hopefully M will drive safely home and tomorrow will be a good running day. some day, hopefully, i will get a job and make some money.
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Day 365: The Grand Finale16 years ago
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Chronicle of 28 days17 years ago
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