“I live on the edge of a sleepy soul, a moist rose, and an infinite lilac sky beneath my chin.” ~ M. Melia, from The Unravelling Travelogue
Tuesday, early evening. Sunny and colddd, 35 degrees.
Still not sleeping well, and consequently, I’m getting up later. Don’t like this. I had managed to wind back my body clock, get into a more reasonable schedule (by my standards). Can’t say that I’m ever going to get going by 8 a.m. again, but I would dearly love to see the morning side of noon. Woke up early this morning with a migraine and have been very light sensitive all day. But on that note—would someone please explain to me why migraine medicine needs to be in adult-proof packaging? When I can’t open my eyes from the pain, how am I supposed to find the little corner to peel, and when I do, why can I not punch out the pill I so desperately need?
Short-eared Owl by Darrel Birkett (FCC)
Why, huh, why?
Anyway, yesterday was a cleaning day, and of course I overdid it, but the house looks nice. We’re still in the middle of trying to get my health insurance reinstated, and even with HR at GW running interference, I’m having problems. This means, of course, that I still have none of my regular meds, and I’m getting by with OTC counterparts. Probably why I have a headache today. Also adding to that which is annoying is the fact that my Yahoo mail is not acting right—I can read stuff in my inbox but cannot reply or compose. Works fine on Corey’s laptop, though. Such a pain.
That, and trying to find the very lowest price for Brett’s textbooks. Fortunately since he isn’t taking any physics classes this semester none of his books are more than $30 each, but doing comparison shopping with ISBNs is a pain. Everything is a pain.
“Sometimes I don’t know whether I’m dreaming my dreams or yours, or just leaning back quiescent in somebody’s brain. It’s only when I feel calm or glad or even afraid that I know I’m asleep. Only when I feel anything.” ~ Mary Rose O’Reilley, from “The Crossing”
Not really sure what I want to write about today. Kind of feeling in between thoughts, if that makes any sense, so I’m just going to rely on my random thoughts fallback. First, television:
Am I a snob because I was bothered by the fact that the Romantics professor turned serial killer in Kevin Bacon’s new show “The Following” fixated on Poe? I would have preferred someone more obscure as it would have been more mysterious; everyone knows Poe. I think it reminds me of the misogynistic American lit professor I had who claimed that the only American female poet worth reading was Emily Dickinson. That would be like me contending that the only American poet worth anything is Walt Whitman. He was a nasty man, that professor, deliberately mispronounced my name all year.
Great Grey Owl (nature.org)
Still like the show, though. Serial killer played by James Purefoy + broken FBI agent played by Kevin Bacon = instant classic in my book.
I finally watched The Hurt Locker the other night, and it wasn’t what I expected. I know that everyone raved over it, but I wanted more character development.
I’m not sure how Ryan Murphy is going to resolve the aliens storyline in the season finale of “American Horror Story: Asylum.” Kind of weak if you ask me (and you didn’t), but my gawd, how wonderful is Jessica Lange, still?
Still bummed that Reid’s love interest on “Criminal Minds” was killed before they ever had a chance to be a couple, but the good news (for me) is that that particular episode featured one of the most beautiful songs I’ve heard in a while, “Infinity Street,” by Richard Walters. Sorry if I’ve already mentioned this, but I really, really love that song.
“The moon is always jealous of the heat of the day, just as the sun always longs for something dark and deep.” ~ Alice Hoffman, Practical Magic
Other things:
I think that I have to add Iceland to my places in the world I want to see. I haven’t seen one picture yet that I don’t find intriguing and mysterious in some way.
Why am I not attracted to countries in South America? Am I being an ugly American? Is it ignorance? Not sure, but not knowing about a country doesn’t usually preclude my interest in it.
Snowy Owl in Dallas by Dave Dolan on nabirding.com
Does anyone know how to convert Vimeo videos into mp3 format without downloading a program?
It’s almost time to do the taxes, which means I have to get around to correcting eldest son’s taxes from last year, filing last year’s state taxes (groan), and completing Brett’s FAFSA for next year (double groan). Speaking of which, I need to contact the federal loan people to see what’s up with my deferment on my graduate school loans. Another groan.
I still haven’t completed my application to the doctoral program at GWU. Deadline is the end of the month. Why am I procrastinating? Did my paranoia and fear kick in before I could even get started? The whole I’m not good enough, why bother, they’ll never want me train of thought taking over . . .
“I know you think this world is too dark to even dream in color, but I’ve seen flowers bloom at midnight. I’ve seen kites fly in gray skies and they were real close to looking like the sunrise” ~ Andrea Gibson, from “The Moon is a Kite”
Things I don’t do or cannot do:
Drink enough water. I read somewhere that oftentimes when you feel hungry, your body may just be dehydrated, but I never seem to remember that. Like now, for instance. I know that I’m thirsty, but I can’t be bothered getting up to get something to drink. I’ll think about it again in about two hours.
Walk enough. Yes, yes, I know. I would feel so much better if I got some physical exercise, but I’m so busy exercising my mind that I forget about my body, that is until I have to look at it. Yuck.
Barn Owl, Norfolk, England (Wikimedia Commons)
Wear my glasses at the right times. After not having the right prescription for so long, I got into bad habits when it comes to corrective vision. So I look above my glasses, and I squint, and I sit too close to the computer monitor . . .
Record poems as they come to me. After years, nay decades of doing this (or not doing this, as it were) you would think that I would have learned. You would think . . .
I am a very good speller, but I never spell the following words correctly on the first try: weird, niece, minutiae, and one other word that I cannot recall at the moment. Of course, I just spelled all of them correctly. How weird. Also, I frequently type the word not when I mean to type no.
Figure out how to code poetry so that the right indentations appear without using the pre code.
“In my mind I am eloquent; I can climb intricate scaffolds of words to reach the highest cathedral ceilings and paint my thoughts. But when I open my mouth, everything collapses.” ~ Isaac Marion, from Warm Bodies
Things over which I am currently obsessing:
Black leather combat boots. This is the first time in my life that I haven’t owned a pair, and it bothers me. I got rid of my last pair a few years ago because they were completely worn and never found another pair that I liked.
Flatware. I know, this is another weird thing, but our silverware is old, chipped, and I absolutely hate it. We bought Mike and Lex new flatware for Christmas, and I had planned to buy some for us but never got around to it.
Snowy Owl Portrait by Pat Gaines (creative commons)
Aside: My life is pretty boring if I’m obsessing over flatware.
How boring my life is. I am.
The Song of Ice and Fire series by G. R. R. Martin. I finally let myself read “Dance with Dragons,” but it’s still going to be months before the sequel hits the market. These books are so complicated, have so many familial lines, so many plots and subplots that to wait between books only adds to the confusion. I almost wish that I had come upon them after the series was complete, kind of like “Girl with the Dragon Tattoo” and its sequels, which I did not read until after the author died.
Why are my stats dropping?
Images of owls (especially snowy owls), Asian fishermen, and Iceland. I have no explanation for any of these.
Enough for now. My eyes are killing me, and it’s time for afternoon tea.
Aurora over Grøtfjorden, Norway by Tor Even Mathisen
“But for pain words are lacking. There should be cries, cracks, fissures, whiteness passing over chintz covers, interference with the sense of time, of space; the sense also of extreme fixity in passing objects; and sounds very remote and then very close; flesh being gashed and blood spurting, a joint suddenly twisted—beneath all of which appears something very important, yet remote, to be just held in solitude.” ~ Virginia Woolf, from The Waves
Tuesday, late afternoon. A bit warmer, low 50′s.
Northern Lights over Murphy Dome, Alaska by Taro Nakai (CC)
So the past two days have been spent in lots of cleaning. On Sunday, Corey helped me to take down Christmas, which included the tree, my Santa collection, my snowman collection, and various other decorations. Each time we thought we’d gotten everything, we found one more piece. Everything is finally packed and ready to go to storage. What I wouldn’t give for a large attic or basement.
After, the house was quite dusty, and glitter was in odd places, which meant furniture polishing, sweeping, and various other things. Corey still needs to vacuum the carpeted places, and I need to clean the fish bowls, but everything else is done. I even did my desk, sorted the junk mail, and cleaned out some files.
I got a label maker as one of my Christmas presents, which might sound odd, but I asked for it, and if you knew my penchant for office supplies, you wouldn’t find this weird at all. So last night I was still in full-blown OCD clean mode, so I used my label maker to create some new files and to condense others. Sweet. I now have a nice, small pile of things needing attention, and Corey, even thought he didn’t really want one, now has a to-do file and a list next to his laptop.
“Perhaps then, some day far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer.” ~ Rainer Maria Rilke, Letters to a Young Poet
By the time I forced myself to stop, I hurt all over. I woke up with very sore legs in addition to the expected back aches and knots. But at least I feel a sense of accomplishment.
Northern Lights over Finland by timo_w2s (CC)
Night before last Corey got very sick. He had told me that he felt like he had a rock in his stomach; then he threw up all over the kitchen floor. I didn’t know until after, which is silly. It’s not like I haven’t cleaned up other people’s puke a thousand other times. Anyway, afterwards, we decided to watch something calming, so I suggested Pride and Prejudice, with Kiera Knightly and Matthew Macfadyen. It’s such a good movie. If you like period dramas and haven’t seen this, you should watch it.
He was just fine by yesterday, and he made a delicious pot of homemade vegetable soup, which made everyone feel better.
The two of us have been trying to catch up on all of the shows I recorded for him while he was gone. Most recently we’ve been watching “Luther,” with Idris Elba, who I love. The show is on BBC America as part of their Dramaville series. It’s such a well-written and well-acted show. I have realized that I could pretty much live with just two television channels: BBC America and ID. Oh, wait. There’s PBS, of course. Kind of sad, really, to define my life through television channels, not that I actually do.
Once we finish “Luther,” the only thing left on the queue is “Copper,” another BBC America show.
“I bear the wounds of all the battles I avoided.” ~ Fernando Pessoa
Olivia was officially six months old on the 6th. Wow. She has changed so much from the tiny little thing with dark hair when she was born. She truly is the happiest baby I’ve ever been around. None of my babies were like that. I’m really hoping that she stays that way—happy. I am amazed by how easily she laughs and smiles with her whole face. Being around her really calms me.
Northern Lights by Varjisakka (CC)
Smiling has never come easily to me. Always so serious, even now. I wonder, is it genetics? Socialization? What defines a person’s disposition? Actually, I would imagine that people can be born happy and easy-going and then something happens to change them to make them morose and dispirited, but I wonder if the reverse is true, if an individual who is born very serious can have something happen that then changes the entire outlook on life, makes it easy to laugh and smile and remain upbeat? I just don’t see that happening.
I mean, I’m not serious all of the time, and I can laugh and smile and be happy, but I don’t see anything happening to make me be easy with life. Easy I guess is the best word. Easy as in comfortable, carefree, better able to let things roll and to roll with things.
Yes, I have definitely mellowed as I have grown older. I am not nearly so quick to anger, and I actually do avoid some confrontations. I don’t dwell as much on the major slights that have happened along the way. All of this is good. But still, I am not easy-going, and I am not easy with life.
“I’ve cried, and you’d think I’d be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.” ~ Conor Oberst
I don’t often use song lyrics for my section header quotes, but this one? This one is spot on. Seriously.
Northern Lights, Tromso, Norway by GuideGunnar Arctic Norway (FCC)
I know that I’ve mentioned more than once ancient theories about illness and medicine, the humours, etc., but if I were living hundred of years ago, well, for one thing, I’d probably be dead. But aside from that, my back pain? Does it not make sense that I carry around this constant back pain because I have sadness in my spine? Because I carry around all of the sadness of my life inside, and then outside, it manifests itself as actual pain?
Waxing a bit philosophic, I know, but when I came across this lyric from a Bright Eyes’ song, it really struck home. Perhaps I’m just rationalizing again, but I don’t think so. I know that I have an ancient sensibility in a lot of ways, that the ways in which I view various things doesn’t exactly scream contemporary. Yet, I am a walking contradiction. I live in the past and the present. I crave the past, some of the past, and yet other parts I would not reclaim for anything.
How do we end up here? I have no answers.
“…throw roses into the abyss.” ~ Friedrich Nietzsche
I also do not use a lot of quotes by Nietzsche because he was such a misogynist. However, if I were to apply that logic to all of the people I quote here, I would not be able to use most of them, because as is the case with just about anyone, everyone has his or her bad parts; it’s just that some bad parts are easier to overlook than others.
For example, Rilke was an unconscionable human being, an anti-Semite, a philanderer, and many other less-than-flattering things, but his poetry seems almost ethereal in its stark beauty. So do I shun quotes from Rilke’s works because I truly cannot abide the person he was? Obviously, I haven’t as my posts are peopled with Rilke’s words and worlds.
Northern Lights, Kattovuoma, Sweden by apgroner (FCC)
Other examples include Gandhi and Mother Theresa, both of whom could be particularly cruel. But their writings? Seemingly from saints.
This is the crux, essentially, in using other people’s words. What do we ignore, and what do we highlight? Personally, I choose to use the products of most of these people. Who am I to judge, yet judge, I do. Constantly. Scrupulously. Yet I pick and choose from this and that and place it here as some kind of totem for my words that follow.
Look. I only know this. If someone were ever to analyze my life (and I find the prospect highly unlikely), the person revealed would be a mixture of bad and good. No, no one could claim that I’m anti-Semitic, or racist, or sexist. But they could say that I have been cruel, that I have hurt people, that I have been judgmental, that I have curried favor, and on and on and on and on.
I don’t like the historical Nietzsche. I don’t like the histories of many, many people. But in most cases, I overlook that because their words, even though the speakers themselves were not always true to them, their words touch me, move me, rally me, comfort me, and so I pass them along to you, hoping that you might have the same reaction.
We are, all of us, fate’s fools, simply balancing on the edge as best we can.
More later. Peace.
(Images today of Northern Lights/Aurora Borealis (another thing on my bucket list, can’t remember if I included), are all creative commons works.)
Music by Nina Simone, “Don’t Let Me Be Misunderstood”
II, 11 (The Book of Hours)
No one lives his life.
Disguised since childhood,
haphazardly assembled
from voices and fears and little pleasures,
we come of age as masks.
Our true face never speaks.
Somewhere there must be storehouses
where all these lives are laid away
like suits of armor or old carriages
or clothes hanging limply on the walls.
Maybe all paths lead there,
to the repository of unlived things.
