shaking out the nonsense

I was going to write something today about how yesterday I decided that if things keep going in the direction they appear to be going, the best option would be to move off grid, go communal. because if chris and i ever have kids, the thought of them growing up in the middle of such malice breaks my ever-loving heart.

I was going to write about how I wasn't really joking, and how Chris was going to be really excited when I told him we were unplugging and moving to the field (Lord help us if that field sits over oil or catches the eye of someone with an itch to build a strip mall, SuperWalmart, or parking lot.)

And then I was going to talk a little bit about the idea of a big Collective Soul transformation coming (not the end of the world, just the end of the currently accepted reality of it), and how maybe right now is just the Beloved, shaking out the nonsense. And maybe once all the nonsense is out, we'll have found ourselves in an idyllic, agrarian society, where we eat fresh fruits and veggies grown in big communal gardens, where we spend lots of time with our hands in the dirt, so we understand and love the earth better, where capitalism is trading beets with the neighbors, where marriage is about love and commitment and partnership and spiritual growth and not about legislation and legal contracts signed by notaries and approved or disapproved by judges we don't know and who don't know us, and where there is no such thing as picketing and screaming with veiny necks about something that is just as true and untrue as the thing being protested is true and untrue, because obviously if we all just got back to core and got back to center and went inward, we would be so much cooler about everything, extremism wouldn't exist, and the whole world would be so much better, and our bodies would be balanced, and our minds, and our emotions, and the earth, and puppies and kittens and fish and bunnies and tulips and clouds and fun music and laughing and no 40-hour work weeks, and all the frightening and malicious people will have vanished, because there would be no imbalance to nourish them, so they couldn't survive in such a world, nothing to feed on, because if all the nonsense got shaken out, that's probably where we'd be left: core and center and clear and sturdy and growing herbs in the back yard, and by herbs, i mean herbs, not "herbs," because when life is that balanced and awesome, there's just no need to alter consciousness.

I was going to write about that, but it was too much for a Saturday morning, and I couldn't get it to come out in a way that didn't make me sound crazy.

every little thing is gonna be alright

i am going to distract myself with senseless blog writing.

i have been a ball of anxiety today.

1. as part of the COFFEE Project (wherein, 9 of us have committed to doing something that scares/challenges us), i have committed to performing at an open mic next Thursday. me + guitar + some songs i made up = Little P needs a Big B-is-for-Barf Bag.

this morning i opened my calendar to record a February meeting, and boom: There it was. "OPEN MIC"-- in ink, no less-- no longer a theoretical event i would talk about indefinitely (without ever actually doing it). IMMEDIATELY, my hands got sweaty, and i started to tremble, and i had to go to the bathroom 85 times in the next 30 minutes.

what IS that?

i tried to tend to work and couldn't focus my brain. couldn't focus my eyes. couldn't get my hands to go still.

you know what i did to calm down? i ran data. i pulled up the database, and i ran data. converted it into an Excel spreadsheet. nice and tidy numbers in rows and columns. observable, quantifiable, linear representatives of completely measurable behavior. adding and subtracting chaos with a calculator.

this is why i like math. i find it calming. being alive is so hair-raising. i hate not being able to control my own body's reactions. sometimes it's nice to step out of myself and study my codes like line-items. if only i could find a way to do this without turning into a complete nut job.

2.  we get "daily headlines" at work. i read them. this was a mistake.

first i read about the bill to amend the constitution to ban same-sex marriage and its variations. this makes me so quivering sick in my soul. it does. it absolutely does. i don't have words. except that i wish so very hard that people would not use the gentle and loving God i believe in to further this cruel campaign.

3.  next i read about the bright idea to just fire everybody hired since November.

i don't know if it's bad professional form to comment on such things. and so i will simply reflect what i hear in my head:

"In order to fix a broken system, you should keep the same people around forever. Because the system is in such disarray, they have obviously been performing very well.  To fix things that are broken, you must not change anything. You must do exactly as you have done forever and ever and ever, amen."

…
…
…

but i'm sure everything is going to be just fine.

colonization of p

we're getting a new coffee table today. we are very excited about this. unreasonably excited. it complements the new couch and chair and ottoman and end table delivered a few weeks ago. if we are unreasonably excited about the new coffee table, we were absolutely batshit crazy irrational about that couch and chair and ottoman and end table.

a few months ago, we replaced the dishwasher. i still get a little zing in my soul when i pour in soap and push the start buttons. so many buttons on this new model. it's obviously a very important machine.

new curtains. i have new curtains for the purple room. they're not up, yet. The hardware to hang them, i mean, has not been wall anchored and screwed and junk; but i have the curtains. sometimes i pull them out of the bag and touch them. i fantasize about what they will look like hanging over my grandmother's old laundry bench with the flashy pillows.

i'm really excited about making split pea soup tonight. i've never made split pea soup. i think i'm going to throw in some spinach and kale, and this makes my heart speed a bit.

don't even get me started about how frothy i am in anticipation of my teeth cleaning in february.

these are the things that excite me lately. i have been colonized and domesticated. this is an outrage. an OUTRAGE!

person x, you are not an a-hole.

yesterday i ate 3 donuts and accidentally called someone of authority, Person X, an "a-hole." for the record, it was a total misunderstanding. i was not calling Person X an a-hole. i actually really like Person X a lot. it was a sentence in an email taken out of context, and there was over-the-shoulder reading and… dammit. i didn't call Person X an a-hole! i didn't!

the donuts: these were deliciously circular baked evidence that the universe is a snide and tricky little bastard sometimes. over the past few years, my body has been pushing me with increasing urgency to clean up and clean out my system. my physical reactions to anything processed, anything bread-y, anything sugary, anything the human body was not actually designed to consume, have become more and more UpInMyGrill. my guts, my skin, my mood, everything starts screaming. my right knee has been shitsville for weeks, and i think that's even linked to my nutrition (and possibly the 5-8 pounds i've gained since the marathon).

since Christmas, i've been shoving as much processed sugary crap into my facehole as i can. and my body is revolting. yesterday morning, after skipping the gym for the 2nd time this week (i actually skipped 3 times, but 1 time i stayed home to shovel the driveway, so i count that as a workout), i had a sit-down meeting with my body, and we agreed, "For the love of all that is holy: Pull it together, Woman!" i left for work with steel resolve. i could not continue to treat my body with disregard.

i arrived to work to find: 1 large iced cookie and 1 small bag of candy on my desk. i said to the universe, "WHAT?! ARE YOU KIDDING ME?" i sat down and immediately put the goodies in a drawer.

i logged into my email and read, "Hey, everybody! I brought donuts for So-and-So's birthday!"

DONUTS! i can't say no to DONUTS! i shook my fist at the ceiling.

and so, on my day of renewed steel resolve to get back on the body track, i skipped the gym and ate:

• 3 donuts
• 1 iced cookie
• 2 fun-sized chocolate candy bars

and i inadvertently called someone of authority an a-hole.

this morning, i have eaten an apple. next i will eat a mostly egg-white (2 egg-whites, 1 whole egg) omelette with kale. and i will not call anybody an a-hole. not on purpose anyway.

the hot dentist.

Sugar makes me intolerant. I've been eating entirely too much lately. Leaving work for the day, I pretended not to see a woman hustling toward the elevator. I let it close. I left her behind. Sorry, Lady. I was just really tired of people. It doesn't matter how much I like you, how cool you are, how attractive you may be; at some point, I'm just really so sick of you I could barf.

I'm intolerant of elevator conversation. "Boy, sure is cold out there!"

"Sure is."

"Boy, just look at all that snow!"

"Yep. I saw it."

"Boy!"

One day last week I had the elevator to myself when a man boarded on the 2nd floor. He stood in the corner. Seriously. It was just him and me, and he stood in the corner with his nose about 1 inch from the emergency buttons. It was pretty weird, but I liked that he was as uninterested in talking to me as I was to him. Too much pretending makes me tired.

And it's Tunnel Time. Underground tunnels (Is there such a thing as an above-ground tunnel?) connect the parking lots and all the buildings. When it's snowing and bitterly cold (Boy! Can you believe this cold?!) I hike the 3 blocks in the dank underbelly of Iowa's capitol. Some people use them all year long. I don't understand this. They bring their tennies and sweat pants and hike back and forth next to the leaky water pipes and strange murals (One mural has 3 black crows flying in such a pattern, with wings at such angles, that it looks like a witch flying on a broom.). I bet there are a lot of body parts cemented in those walls. That's not pleasant.

I'm having weird dreams again. Last night I was chasing a rodent and washing the word "Studwater" off a window. I like knowing when I've popped up in someone's dream. But, I've recently decided to stop telling others when they're in my dreams. Some people really get weirded out about that. I mean, seriously. I think that's ridiculous. I can't be held responsible for what my brain does when I'm sleeping. Just because you're in my dream doesn't mean I'm going to stalk you and leave dead stuff in your yard. I don't have a room in my house lined with sliced newsprint that spells out your name 35 million times.

Or do I? Sleep with one eye open.

I went to the dentist today. I am debating whether or not to publicly confess that I hadn't been to a dentist in well over 10 years. I guess I just resolved my debate. But look: I brush; I floss; I mouthwash; I don't drink pop or weird, sugary juice drinks; I don't eat a bunch of candy. Nothing hurts. Nothing is wiggly and falling out. So, I don't think about going. If it ain't broke…

I went to Chris's dentist. He calls her the "hot dentist." She's pretty, but I wouldn't say she's "hot." Maybe she's just not my type. I don't know. But I lost a filling a while back and let it go too long, and I might need a root canal. I figure root canals probably aren't really all that bad. It's probably just something people say--something that wormed its way into our scripts. Most of our scripts are dumb. So I'm optimistic.

One question on the intake form asked, "Do you plan to keep your teeth for the rest of your life?" Seriously? What kind of question is this? I circled NO.

The hot dentist poked at my gums and scraped at my teeth, and then she took off her mask and told me that other than the missing filling, I had a healthy mouth. She said that: "You have a healthy mouth." She looked disappointed--defeated--when she said it. "You've been really lucky to get away with not going to the dentist." Like I was cheating. Like I'd skipped class all semester and then aced the final. All that flossing and brushing and no-pop-drinking. You sneaky little sneak.

I scheduled a cleaning, too. Tonight I'm drinking red wine just to get a little more bang for my buck.

juicy fruits

by wednesday i start to run out of steam. steamless. seamless. seamstress. my grandma hartman was a seamstress after they sold the farm and moved to town. grandpa was a machine mechanic in a bread factory. my grandparents worked their asses off--farms and factories and dress shops--, and i bet they never complained about it. and then my parents--in schools and offices. and now, me here, i just flit around and enjoy the juicy fruits of their labors. (sometimes progress looks like regress depending on your tilt.)

i need to pack my gym bag before it gets too late. woe is me.

i had another psychotic dream last night. i was having my back surgically reshaped. they could only do half at a time. they did one half, and it hurt like hell, and i suddenly realized it was a mistake. but i couldn't just leave my back hacked in half. i was devastated at my decision to do it in the first place. full of such overwhelming regret.

the moral of that story is leave your backs alone.

that's all.