ghost

I think about maybe being a ghost a lot.
Like in that movie with Nicole Kidman and those little kids who were allergic to light.
Are people really allergic to light?
What if I am haunting someone now?
Do you think they would be scared of what I do? Do you think they would like how I arranged the furniture, and do you think they would also notice that the little guy who lives on top of my fridge spins around so that he's always looking toward the front door? No matter how many times I put him back, he is vigilant.
I hope I don't scare the ghosts who are alive. I hate that part in that movie where you finally see that they are dead. It seems more scary than it needs to. Maybe its okay to be a ghost for a little while. At least they have one another and that beautiful old house to haunt.

I live alone now for the first time in my life.
It has been a month.
I sometimes get nervous that I don't see any person for entire days at a time, and I get scared that nobody sees me either. I'm not really anxious about it, but I notice it. It's like a toothache before it gets serious. Just sort of... there.
Sort of dull.
Sometimes less sharp. Sometimes more.
I take pictures of myself.
Usually they are sort of humiliating, but I like them. I hope I delete them.
There are a few things that I am doing always now. I am taking the pictures, and I am reading again. I hang up all of my clothes and clean my floors, and my dishes are always clean, never left in the sink.
I make my bed every day.
It isn't for someone else.
And it feels good.

I prayed, so far, only once this calendar year.
I have always liked when people say "calendar year."
We are 17 days in. I might do it again. I might not. Someone told me recently that they miss God, and I think that maybe I do too. I try to remember that when I bake the bread every week. I try to make a place for God to come back to me in my heart.

I brush my teeth now better than I ever have in my recollection. My teeth always feel weird.
Maybe things will change.
Change is sometimes the only thing that I think will save us. It's the certain constant in the universe. Nothing else. Not death. Not taxes. That's stupid. Change is the master. Change is hope. Maybe that's what all of that religion has been trying so hard to tell me: become better, become bigger, become more, become stronger, become kinder, become more gentle, become more pliable, become more forgiving. Become, become, become. It's so scary, change, but its the thing that is hopeful. I was caught the other day thinking, "No matter what, someday, all of this will be different."
I just want to be able to allow it.

A Month On-

I went for a long walk last night and talked to my mom for a long time about our own selves and about how we become the people that we are. It is a good thing to do: talking to your mother about your person. I walked the 4.5 blocks to the community garden in the dark and I met a squashed snake on the road. There was blood everywhere and I cried after I got back home. Soemtimes death doesn't bother me, but last night I was feeling raw and exposed already.
I have been graduated for a month now and I have learned so much in that time. I feel fortunate to have time to recover from grad school and from academia in general. That sounds like I am ungrateful for the education I have, and I know that that's how it sounds. I don't mean for to sound that way because I am actually quite grateful for precisely that. But there must be a reprieve. Why isn't that in the scripture someplace? It feels like natural law.
I am working at a cupcake bakery, a thing for which I am also very grateful. The work is easy and mindless and allows me the time and space to have private Robyn dance parties. I am an introvert, but I like people. The cupcake shop is ideal. That being said, I have had more dates since I graduated than any month prior. It has led me to the conclusion that I am less intimidating (A problem I have often struggled with throughout my life) now that I have a silly job. I think boys are more interested in less promising women sometimes. I'm not sure what to do with that, and maybe I am missing something. Maybe they just like cupcakes, or maybe I have gotten more pretty since I graduated. Those things seem external.
Two Christmases ago, I was in Utah with my dad's family for to celebrate the holiday. I had just completed my first semester at Nebraska, and there was a distinctive flavor of intimidation and lack of interest from my family. I am the only person from either side of my family to receive a Master's Degree in at least three generations and I got the vibe that my membership in the pack was being called into question because of my education(not to mention my marital status). As though attending BYU for my undergrad wasn't enough, the Master's sealed the deal and I was perceived as something I didn't want to be. I told my sister about my thoughts and she advised me to act dumber. It was like a revelation when I did, because suddenly I was back into the adorable position I had been in before- beloved and wanted by my family. I don't think it's really fair to ask someone to be what they aren't. This last paragraph sounds so awful and complainy, but I want to say it so that I will remember to value the accomplishments of others for the future.
I can safely say that I am friends with my mother. It is one of the most rewarding relationships in my life right now. I am working really really hard to get to that place with other people too. Mostly my dad. I need to figure out how to be kind, but also to say what I need. I am learning a lot about temperance... Study it if you can. Then tell me what you learn, ok?
My sister and my brother are remarkable people. I learned so much about and from them. I am missing them sincerely lately... which doesn't really make sense. I saw my brother less than a month ago, and I will see my sister in less than two weeks. Somehow I  feel entitled to much more time with them that I am permitted. My sister is only 18 months older than me, and so growing up, she was never very distant. Our personalities enabled us to earn from and protect and lean on one another in a very close way. I don't think I have ever learned how to be very good at being alone yet.  My brother is the one who shines at that. I need to learn how to be better at that, I think. Most of my life is alone. I need to learn how to like it better.
The question on everyone's lips now is where I am headed next. People seem shocked at the capacity I have to uproot myself and fling my life across the country. It's funny to me, but also a little astounding how little people understand my position. I sincerely love finding roots and digging deep in a place. life-flinging is not my preferred mode of living, but there is just so much world to embrace. And so I do. Maybe I need heavier anchors.
My response is never as bold as it probably should be and I more than likely sound reticent than I need or want to. I’m not sure why I do that; react that way. I guess it’s because I’m still not certain that it’s what I should be doing. 

Mostly I want to be called somewhere and to some work. I want to be wanted and needed somewhere. So I’m a normal human. I keep telling people that I am working for now at a bakery where I peddle cupcakes, but I am moving to Maui to live with Kara at the end of the summer. And I am going to drive to California before I do it and I am going to see at least seven national parks along the way. The conversation always turns out the same way: When else will there be time for this? And the answer really, is always. I think we make time for the things we love. I don’t yet know how to use the things I have learned, but I am carrying them with me even still.
I feel like that dead snake a lot of the time. I don’t think it knew what was coming and it was bigger than it probably realized (It was certainly bigger than I realized at first. All of that blood.) it was. I sometimes catch myself thinking that I have my whole life ahead of me still, but that means that I forget that I will be 28 this year and being 28 this year somehow means that I don’t actually have all that much time left.  

and now

I graduated from the University of Nebraska on May 3. It was my half birthday; exactly 27 and a half and I felt every year of it.

I don't know what to do with myself anymore. My life feels not- empty, but no longer compelled now that I don't have school to demand my attentions. I have no more milestones to overcome and I have no more deadlines to meet with gusto. In some ways I might flounder for a while. I can't quite concisely assess why the prospect of this is so disquieting, but I can't sleep any more anyways.

Something about a divine and innate need to make progress, to keep growing, to keep learning and to keep gaining. This is the worrisome and uncomfortable part.

Beets and peas are growing in the back yard so I guess things are ok.

And sometimes I get to touch boy's forearms and hands so I guess things are ok.

And I have a plane ticket and a strong heart that knows a lot of different weather so I get to hope that things are ok.

I go for much longer drives alone now than I ever did before. Never mind. I have always gone for long drives; the difference is now I can do them unrepentantly and without restraint.

We're going to have a baby and it's really really scary and a little sad, I think (maybe more on this later).

Nebraska is the most pretty when you can forget all of the sprawl and just see the clouds and dirt and grass.

I think I will always find a way to love tall grass.

This is all I can muster for now.

all time low

Bullet points are the only way to deal with this information:
-I am not certain that I brushed my teeth today or yesterday.
-I weighed myself before and after a bowel movement. I lost 1.5 lbs.
-I can't remember the last time I brushed my hair. Generally, it's clean, but rarely brushed.
-I have worn a pair of pants (GUYS! PANTS!!!) for nine days. In a row. That's correct. Pants. 9 days. NINE. They have not been washed, don't worry.
-I never wash my face at night unless I am sharing a bed with someone.
-I ate ice cream for breakfast this morning.
-That breakfast was eaten at 11:35 am.
-For the past two days, I haven't left my house until , at the earliest, 2pm.
-There was a span of time within the last two weeks wherein I couldn't see my floor in my bedroom.
-I haven't gone to bed earlier than 3 am any of the nights that have been December.

But damnit all! I have got to get an outline, annotated bibliography and draft of my thesis proposal to my adviser tomorrow. I find an insane need to have her validation and approval, and so I am working my ass off tonight to make it happen (don't be fooled, this blog post took three minutes to write and I will be back on my game after this tiny break).

This is my writing song. 

(and some secret information: The janitor who empties the trash in my office, which is where I currently am, smells amazing. He must wear the most delicious cologne... He came and left over a half hour ago, but I can still smell him and, DAMN. I know that is weird but really. REALLY.)

Letter to My Future Child

Letter to My Future Child


The way you don’t exist is remarkable
When I have been hotwired, cobbled from
Spongy tubes specifically to birth. At least to bud

Would be preferable, shedding a child
Like petals drooping from a center.
I apologize profusely to you,
But I am content in my selfishness and
My love of this girl I’ve created.

Today I watched the bees graze,
The perfect mix of threat and song and binge,
And I felt I, too, could bob and maneuver.

I guess they reminded me of you:
Your toddling bumble, your absent suckle,
Your mere addition to the swarm.
You would be a plump grub in honeysuckle
Were you to be anything, but you will not

Be. This is something I’ve decided.
There is only so much life to go around; I’ll take
Two rations. The petal and the pistil.

And, hey, the calyx. The ability to share is mythic,
Like you, and who needs another creature,
Another sea monster? I already have the
Swooping vertebrae of my back, I have my bones

Diving above and below my skin
Filled with just the right amount of people:

One. How could I bring a child into this world
When I want it all to myself?
Life is that right and full of love, flowers, et al.
I’m sorry for me, sure. But most of all, Little Bee,
I am sorry for you.
-Megan Amram

 Heironymous Bosch

Beehives and Witches

ca.1515

Pen on Paper

too proud for love

I know that both of these songs (CLICK! CLICK!) are so incredibly old, but I feel them both so much right now. I am going to bed tonight feeling confused, apprehensive and maybe even a little bit worried. I miss feeling comforted.

A wise woman told me to try to have more charity today. Another one encouraged me to have more faith. What's left? Hope. I have a lot of hope, almost in absurd quantities that should perhaps give cause for concern but rarely do.

I think I am going to get those other two working better/more for me. I've heard they work best together.

 

I apologize, I don't know where this image actually came from , I have had it saved on my hard drive for a very very long time, but it basically epitomizes my feelings at this moment. Like... all of them, especially that tornado and that heart.

today i hung

about 40 works in my museum. I am co-curating a show about the wars fought by Native Americans from the 1850's-1890's. You know: Custer and Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull and all of those guys. It's a really hard show to do, and the content weighs heavy on me most of the time. It felt good to see my work being actualized and my ideas hung on walls. I am getting better at maths because of the practice of hanging stuff up. Eye level is 59 inches.

Sometimes my boss and I get into conversations that are pretty intense and she cries. Other times we talk about Wonder Woman and her kids. I like both of these types of conversations for different reasons. Sometimes I want to cry with her (only once, I did). I told her about that time that my mom made a Wonder Woman Halloween costume for me as an adult (I think I was 23...), and she looked like she was going to pass out with joy at the prospect of an adult person (me) seriously wearing such a getup, not to mention the fact that it was made by my mom. I felt sheepish, but also awesome. I like that she indulges and maybe even exacerbates my utter nerdiness. She is a good and curious person to me.

My head feels like it was dipped in a vat of suck and that then coagulated into more suck that is now stuck inside my sinuses. I never get sick. I need someone to take care of me.

I need to read a book for tomorrow, but on the other hand, I would rather just go to bed (blogging as a happy medium?). I cannot seem to be interested in a book about colonial African birthing practices; there is a lot that I don't know, and a lot that I don't really have entrance points to. I hope seminar tomorrow will be okay and not-overwhelming. That class makes me so vomit-y-nervous.

 I really enjoyed listening  to this today. It fit into a lot of the things I have been thinking about lately. Someone submitted an artwork to me (for this, my baby), that was called something like "Indian on a Bike". I really liked it, more than almost any other work I have yet seen for that contest. I mostly liked the artist's statement, which was simple: "Indians ride bikes too".

 (via)

(This was NOT the image, simply an amusing/amazing image that shows up when one searches "Indian on a Bicycle" via Google Image. I like it.)

Don't forget that. Indians ride bikes too.

more medical terms!

Hey boo(s).
So.
I am going under the knife at eight.

 

It should be an adventure. 

Say a little prayer for me.

I hope to be reporting again soon.

Also. 

I got a job.

victory.

in medical terms

oh hey.
so I have this thing. it's weird. It first showed up a little over three years ago. Recently, it came back with a vengeance, and was all inflamed, causing my to feel like I was running a near-constant fever for about two weeks straight. This was coupled with a whole lot of pain in my neck meats.

delightsome.

Anyways. I'm headed to the doc this afternoon for a lil consultation to see what can be done about it. In the meantime, I thought it'd be nice to share my adventured with you. Sorry if it grosses you out. This might be fun, though.

So to start things off, here's a straight shot of the little frenemy that is building on the neck-region. See? It looks like a lump of hotness on my throat:

Next up, a zoomed-in view, just to be sure that we all know where, exactly, we're looking. yep. that's it. Right smack in the middle of my hyper-ticklish neck.

To make this feel more medical-y, I thought an X-ray would be nice.

  

And just in case, a thermal scan might be useful too. Looks like a blue boob growing on my throat. Cute!

 

Now I want you to just envision it in the clouds. Can you see it?

And what if I were "abducted by aliens", you ask? Wonder no more, dear reader:

The little guy has already seen Paris:

 

 Maybe it can visit Maui next?

 

I tried and tried to get it onto a rollercoaster and even the moon, but the stubborn little guy was too scared, and I ended up looking mostly dead (but with a lady-Adam's apple). such is life, I guess.

I am nervous about this whole situation... because the surgery requires a hospital stay and some intense anesthesia. Oh yeah... and a scar. Too bad I'm not really that in to scars. I get rather squeamish and nervous about medical stuff so... wish me luck. Or send me cookies. 

Or both? Yeah. Definitely both.