-schlafzeit-

I have gotten bad at sleep again.

It comes in waves.

Sometimes I arrange my pillows in my bed so that they are like another person under the blankets with me. 

I snuggle the crap out of them.

Sometimes I get scared that it will always be pillows and never a person (this is a confession).

Also, there is a cricket who lives a few millimeters away from my window, who likes to watch me sleep and really likes to whisper the sweetest nothings to me all night long. I hope she doesn't die when it gets too cold out there.

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.  

new

Let's remember what it is to be new.

Pablo Picasso, Woman with a Yellow Hat (Jaqueline) ca. 1906

I sat next to a man at church yesterday who asked me where the priest was. I explained how we have bishops in the church an a little bit about the organization. I am not confident that he understood all of what I was saying because I was whispering to him during sacrament meeting, a time when we're supposed to be real quiet. In a ward the size of mine, it's easy for people to notice when you are un-quiet. He started me on a vicious cycle, and my defense of things that smaller and newer than I am kicked in right then and there. I wanted to ask the speakers to be kind and non-jargony. I wanted so hard for them to remember that "initiatory" and "baptism for the dead" and "celestial kingdom" are things that sound scary to people who aren't us, but are curious nevertheless. Those things are scary for the uninitiated. The man sitting by me (we'll call him Charles, because that was his name)   looked to me several times, imploringly seeking validation and a glance to know that he would be ok. He would be ok. I was reminded of sitting in my dad's ward in California as a teenager. I always remember that ward as a ward where I was watched nearly constantly by the children of the ward. I think they liked me because I liked them openly. I remember how they often would watch me while I sat in sacrament meeting. It's a weird feeling to know that you are being watched like that. I'm not trying to say that I was a perfect example all of the time. In the contrary, I was often the one who supplied those babies with coloring books and dinosaurs to distract their attentions. I know what it is to be new, and to not know what big words mean. I know what it is to not know where I could set my backpack. I know what it is to not speak the language, and not know who I could sit by in the cafeteria, or when it was appropriate to ask a question. I know what it is to be new.

I got a text this last week that has been sitting deeply with me. It said, "disciples are not people who never doubt. They doubt and serve and help each other with their doubts. They doubt and practice faithfulness. They doubt and wait for their doubts to be turned into knowing."

I don't know who said it originally, but I am deeply moved by the concept. Is that not precisely what we promise to do every week? Is that not what it means to bear one another's burden?

I had to leave the sacrament meeting about halfway through because I was so overwhelmed in looking at he meeting from the eyes of the new. I am new to some ways of seeing things, I suppose, as things have shifted in my family lately. My dad is getting re-married next month, and I don't really understand how all of that works. I am sort of in a mess about how things will straighten themselves out. Where do I fit? And what of my parents' temple sealing? I don't know how to sort things out, and the talks given were almost exclusively about the topic of marriage (aren't they seemingly always about that topic in singles' congregations?). I felt remorse for leaving Charles to his own intellect to understand all of all of the things. I went into the hallway and cried and cried. I felt abandoned again. Felt lost again. Felt new and scared again. I felt like I didn't belong. Again.

And it is truly by the grace of God that I was joined by one of the kindest women I have ever known in that hallway. My relief society president wept with me. She shared her love and compassion and empathy with me. She showed me how to be Christlike. And man! What an incredible thing!

She literally embodied the spirit of the Relief Society in that instance, that selfless moment of reaching out to me. I shouldn't have needed it- I should be one of the strong ones. But she didn't care. She didn't want me to cry alone. She didn't want me to sink. And she reminded me that it's okay to be new. It's okay to not know, and to re-asses and ask again and again and again. There are always answers. She reminded me that charity never faileth.

Let us have patience with being new, and kind to those who don't yet know.

reassess, re-envision

It's POURING rain outside right now, pounding hard on my double panes. I can barely hear the trains sporadically cutting through the tumult of weather. The thunder is absolutely deafening and the lightning shatters the dark of my bedroom and makes it look a little bit scary. I wish you were here to buffer the scariness. Nebraska in May, I guess I should have anticipated as much.

I never knew what a thunderstorm was, really before moving here, and I doubt I will ever un-know this.

Today at church, the teacher asked us to list places that we thought were beautiful, and I said, "NEBRASKA." Everyone laughed, and my ears grew hot with shame because I was completely sincere in my assertion. Earnestness met with ridicule is hard to bear sometimes; I've never learned the lesson from that. I think she wanted me to say "the temple" or something, but "NEBRASKA" was a more fitting answer for me then, and maybe now, I'm not sure. I didn't want to cover it up, so I just allowed myself to feel hot and ashamed. I think I heard one quiet utterance of agreement, but it's okay. You should come visit (again): I'll show you (again).

Sister friend was here for a week last week, and her absence makes the lonesomeness even more lonesomey and missing-y. So I spent the night at someone's house and had a really REALLY awkward morning.

It's hard to be by myself. I feel floaty in a detached, not-that-good, sort-of-lost kind of way. I had come to believe that I was getting good at being alone.

I'm not.

I need to remember what I am doing here. And where would I be if not here? I need a better system to lay down roots. I never learned that, really.

I think I would feel less like I had to convince myself of things every day if there were more feeling present. Prospects (so many) have shifted in dramatic ways lately, and things are different. I need to reassess and re-envision where things are headed. A relative stranger with insider information recently commented that she had heard that I "had some major life decisions to make". She was right, but I was annoyed that she would offer such an intimate assessment of my life, and the means through witch she received such knowledge about me left me completely enraged/frustrated/vulnerable-feeling. I didn't really know what to say to her, and defaulted a mumbled, "I think I would like to get married". Would I like that? It would solve nothing...

Maybe it would solve some thing(s), but I would still be this person. I love this person. But this person could/should/can/will/must be more/better/bigger/rounder/wiser/kinder/patienter/knowinger than present. How do I keep getting myself stuck here?

...make progress. make progress. make progress. make progress...

Mom comes for a visit next week. I hope that I will have figured some things out {by} then. I want to figure out some things with her, some things about her, some things about just me, and I want her advice on how to make myself not-alone. She is a pro at not-alone. Is she also good at not-alonely?

Is that a thing I can do? Surely.

And I force my dad to girltalk with me about every little emotional whim. I consider it payback for something, I'm not sure what, but it feels gratifying somehow. It feels like he's got my back, even if it's just because someone else now knows how I feel. He has a lot of hope invested in me, that is sometimes shocking to hear voiced. It makes me wonder how he sees what he does, and it makes me hopeful that he is right in his fullness and seeingness. Or maybe it's a lack of seeingness that is making him so hopeful. But even still, he thinks that I'm going to be okay.

I think wind is lucky because it can go wherever it wants. It's probably never lonesome. I think I need to learn to make plans, for the first time in my life.

I'm sorry if I make too many words up, but English is an insufficient language on its own.

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.

The Deli Aisle (for Now)

everything is packaged in family size
but I only need for one
that's the only thing that gives me pause
in the deli aisle
and there really isn't anyone to walk me outside
through the sliding doors.
sometimes I want to buy family size
just to pretend,
and I'm convinced I could convince the boys
at the register.
but instead I come home and write a free verse
about how all those granola bars
all that crunchy cereal
all those nuggets
pudding
the toothpaste (two to a pack!)
carrots
toilet paper
waxed fruits so refined
fish sticks
oatmeal packets
string cheese
cups o noodle
laundry suds
pickles
salad
shampoo and conditioner (with all their bonus ounces)
almonds
yoghurt
peanut butter
leeks and potatoes
the soy milk, original flavor
and the chips
would be wasted
because there is no tribe;
and from the corner of my eye
in the neon-lit, windowless box
I push so hard against pre-fab frozen entrees
called "meals for one"
so oppressively
and imagine a relationship
with the man buying them,
thinking about how much better I could cook
for him
with him.
and then
I go home
without big bags
because I only need for one.

Crossroads (But Not The Brittney Spears Movie)

  My mom keeps trying to get me to try online dating. The concept feels so inauthentic to me that I hardly give it a second thought. After telling her about my stresses about school, being awoken by gunshots at 4 AM, and the terror of having a human body found near my house, she wanted to know my romance-related woes. Could the demons lurking under bridges in my neighborhood and in my intellectual spaces not satiate her? She needed more. Like a soap opera to which she is addicted, She wanted me to tell her everything (about one narrow topic, hitherto only a small sliver of a [my] very rich life). 

  I told her everything there was to tell. I spare no detail with her sometimes.

  And then she (again...) asked if I thought online dating wasn't a good idea. After all, she found her last few boyfriends on various websites. My sister chimed in, for she too was an internet success story. They even offered to craft an online presence for me. While I think their concern is somewhat warranted and their offer indubitably kind, I'm just not convinced that a website will fit the bill.  Is this what we have come to as a people? Are we so replete with authentic human interactions that we are capable of boiling ourselves down to a webpage and advertising the hell out of ourselves, pimping our education and our favorite films, music and qualities about ourselves? I guess I just think some things require actual interaction. Some things must be felt.

We then got into a discussion about what was wrong with me. 

  The topic did not help me feel too nice.

  WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!??! 

  Time to say farewell to my pride. Yet again.

 Historically speaking, my family hasn't really been one to put much pressure on us for not dating or being in a relationship or being married. I have spent time being grateful for the breathing space. This was especially poignant after my parents' marriage dissolved after 27 years. I too needed to give myself time and mental hiatus. But looking back, I think I may have stopped pushing myself, stopped progressing and learning how to trust and interact appropriately with the male sex. I have installed mental blocks that are making it really, really hard to jump beyond myself. I want to jump, but those blocks are making it hard for me to see that I might land on the other side. They make it hard to see if it's worth it to try. I am not interested in blaming others for my lack. I want to feel empowered to act on my own behalf.

  And maybe now, my parents are beginning to feel the fact of the time-lease that is their daughter's female body. My body. The prospect of progeny is an enticing one for them, it seems; perhaps I do not provide them with enough charm any longer as a 26 year old child.

  I read an article about the word gals. The word, as the article's author seems to understand, is... well... stupid. But she makes a point in saying that, 

that mantle of womanhood can be too heavy—many of us who are the right age to have sympathized with Britney Spears when she sang "I'm Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman" in 2001 are still stuck in between (I was 16 at the time that song came out) . As a 20-something female, there are moments, romantic and professional and Shania-Twain-approved, when I feel like a woman. Other times, I really do feel like a girl (though not as often as I am called one). I never feel like a lady except in announcements made also to gentlemen and I only feel like a dame when I watch old movies. What I feel like most of the time is a guy. A female guy.

  This comes, appropriately, on the heel of hearing a lecture last week entitled "Guyland" at a gender studies conference at which I was a (grown-ass-woman) panelist. The lecture was largely casually written off as pop-sociology. But to some extent, my attention was caught in the idea of extended adolescence and the allure of irresponsibility, ad infinitum. The prospect of being a "forever-dude" is certainly an entertaining one that smacks of fountains of youth and promises eternal springtime filled with "going to shows, bro", and staying up until three AM eight nights in a row. Filled with the stuff of college and flexing your wings for the first time, rather than learning that wings were meant for long-distance, stamina- requiring flight. Wings are meant for adult things like paying bills on time and regularly brushing your teeth before going to bed. Wings that are meant to bear and teach babies.The guyland appeal fights with my determination to age honestly and gracefully into a wise, wizened, and self- actualized old woman one day. I can see myself as that: I'm old and wonderful and kind.

  But for now I am 26 years old.

  Today.

  And today I wrote a professor from my undergrad to see if there would be a teaching position for me in the summer. That's right. That's me today: actualizing real, grown ass-woman, careersy aspirations. I don't know if I will get the job. I will keep you posted on that, but I am making strides.  This is one of those "Shania-Twain-approved" occasions. My mom never asked about it. I didn't push the topic.

  I understand that my zeal for education and a career might seem antithetical to the accepted roles outlined here. I don't know to what extent I am prepared to submit to those fully just yet, but I think that I want a family. I sometimes see babies and want to cry at how much I want to touch them. I think I would be a good mom. I think I have the capacity to love small things and make real food for real small humans. I am good at comforting babies and helping them feel loved. I am good at teaching them about the world, how wonderful and full it can be; I am good at inspiring wonderment and imagination. I am good at playing with them and helping them laugh. I want to make real promises to a real man human and make real things happen with him. I want to do that in a certain sacred place, wherein we will incur the permission of Heaven. I really do want that.  I feel it very deeply and feel powerful in writing that down.

  But I also can admit and embrace that my career-related aspirations might be somewhat intimidating to real human men/potential marriage prospects (this isn't the appropriate place to discuss my opinions about men who are intimidated by successful women, but know that I have a few). And my object in clinging so desperately to the hope of career opportunities is not grown from subversion, rebellion or even in doubt or fear. It's rooted in the feeling of ability and control (it is somewhat vulnerable-making to explain this here). 

  My career is the only thing in which I feel validated to satisfactorily control. It is the one thing in which I feel a degree of autonomy based on my own abilities and skills; the arena in which I can thrive at being ambitious and definite in pursuing the thing that I want. I do not feel this validation in my relationships with men, nor in my friendships with human beings of either gender. I frequently take the role of passive acceptor. This role often leads to being alone, and sometimes (not always, but sometimes) being alone leads to being lonely. I am learning that I cannot be antonymous on a project which inherently requires the contribution of two. There is certainly pride tied up in the focus on education and career. Pride, of which I am leery, as I know the dangers and pitfalls of pride intimately well. I read stories about it every day from this book that I'm kind of in to. I need to move and be moved, see and be seen. Perhaps that is the key to finding a successful relationship; admission that I cannot control things/others/fate?

  It's time to say farewell to my pride again. 

  How do you submit to waiting?

  Is there a better location than Guy/Gal Land? My lease here might be up; rent certainly is cheap, but there are too many dead bodies showing up in ravines and shooters lurking in the neighborhood.