find treasure

I remembered two dreams I had long ago that might point me toward my true desire.

In one dream, I lived in an intentional community of artists.  Maybe we were all writers?  There was a lot of dark wood, green plants, picnic tables, places to hang out in the common areas.  Different levels--it was a strange house, with at least one mezzanine.  Vibrant, creative people coming and going.  Conversation, love.  It was like art school.

In another dream, I was visiting this place.  It was like a cafe for writing letters.  You could go there and stay as long as you wanted.  There was free paper there, sitting out for anyone, and I was so happy, writing letters to friends in a cozy space.

Also I am thinking more about living off the grid, bartering, gift economy.  Different ways to have more resources.  I made a brainstormed list that starts with "employment--regular job" and ends with "find treasure."

what I most want

How do you decide what you most want?  I have old dreams, but I would like to know what's real now.

Others tell me I should publish a book.  But I really like zines.  I think they suit me better, DIY and smaller scale.  I have a successful poet friend who publishes books, and he says I do it a good way.

Of course there's kids, house, career, money, all that.  Money is not going to be it.  I mean the normal route.  No way.

I admire vegans who go off the grid.  You know I wanted to move to the PNW and have a big garden, enjoy home, go to the city once a week for Indian food and bookstores, city time.  That was a delicious fantasy, cooking with all the fresh produce we grow ourselves, but Ming and I don't have the energy for a big garden.  Something would have to change.

Van dwelling is another idea, a mobile life, but I don't know if Ming and I would fit well.  And we'd have to get rid of everything.  Well, that's just an idea.  Nice not to pay regular rent.

We could stay here in Vegas.  We have community, support, meaningful things to do, friends, a peaceful courtyard, and someone else picking up the cat poop.  It's a very good life, but the summers are brutal.  Ming doesn't mind, but for me it's months of hell to endure.

I could go back to school for something--teaching English to non-English speaking adults.  Something in the alternative mental health field.  I could become some kind of teacher again or healer.

My relationship with money is bad.  I just hate it.  It makes me feel dirty.  I think everything should be free, the way I think school shouldn't have any grades, and I feel bad charging anyone for anything.  I feel bad passing the hat at radical mental health meetings, so much so that I usually just skip it.

I'm 42 years old and this is a nice place.  My energy is low but otherwise I have everything I need and things are pretty great.

Well, please let me know if you have any ideas.  

My small-term goals, like organizing the mess, learning to live within our means, cooking at home a lot, exercising in some way almost every day, taking better care of my teeth, meditating almost every day--those seem attainable.  But I feel like I'm missing something bigger.

tea need

I need some tea, stat!  I'm tired of being sick! 

Ming is helping H do some photocopies.  It's someone's birthday today.  But I think I will skip it. 

I was blowing my nose on a napkin that smells like pepper and coughing like I'd choke.

"I'll see you guys over there," H said as he went out the door.

"I don't think I'm going to go.  I don't feel good," I said.

"Oh!  You're going to miss out on the cake and all the goodies!  You know what he's going to say!"

I'm trying to imagine what the birthday boy will say.  I think he'll say, "She's not feeling well, huh?  Well, I'll just get my birthday hug another day."

the world is too big for you to understand

Yesterday we talked about family for a while as we traveled.  It was intense.  I said how some of the men in my family were more like cartoon characters than fully-developed people.  We talked about what goes on that can't be seen. 

I love those oak trees we pass, leaving the coast, the valleys and hills.

We stopped in Arvin at the Vallarta.  Ming got two pineapple tamales and ate them at a long wooden picnic table.  I looked around at things--rice, beans, little pickled apples and octopus. 

Wanted to buy the inner parts of pumpkin seeds.  Wanted to buy star anise but didn't know what I'd do with it.  But it's so pretty.

Then in Tehachapi at a park, a red truck had a flat tire, and there was a note on it saying Don't tow.  I saw a raven.  My phone died.  I was using it and the gmail app paused.  Then the screen went black.

I tried turning it off and on--didn't work.  I asked Ming to help.  "Do you know how to take the battery out?" I asked.  He was walking across a field and I was walking toward him, naked phone in hand, and a flock of blackbirds flew by in the wind.  I laughed.

Ming couldn't fix it, so at our hotel I googled How to fix iphone and fixed it.  Turned out my memory was almost full so I put 1700 pictures onto my computer and deleted them off my phone.  Ming supplied the cord.

When we first got to the hotel, I lay down in bed and Ming took a shower.  I woke up and he was lying beside me.  I said, "I got the wrong mule."  I'd wanted him to unload the minivan. 

He said, "I'm stubborn."  I laughed and remembered that mules are known for a few things, including carrying a lot and stubbornness.

Then I got up to pee and saw he'd brought in everything from the minivan.  He must have come in and out the door five times, not waking me up.  I had been dead asleep. 

So I started cracking up.  Later we went to Thai food.  Ming said he liked the look of my phone without its case.  I said, "What, are you a phonosexual?"  It did seem little and cute in its vulnerability.

I asked Ming about his last name.  "What's that 'a' doing there?  Seems like it's doing nothing!"  He said it keeps Lai from being Li like Lee.

traveling home

inbox cleaning, Santa Barbara, nice lady

I've been cleaning out my inbox.  I used to keep it spartan.  Then it filled up with emails I hadn't dealt with. 

A certain friend emailed me a ton, and I emailed him back a ton but slightly less.  I had all these emails from him with unanswered questions from the previous year. 

So I went through and read them, taking notes, then archiving them.  And I wrote him an interesting, varied six-page letter on pink paper, answering all the questions.  It's a good letter.  I showed it to Ming too.

Then I did it again the next day, but the second letter was only four pages.  It included a description of Santa Barbara that I was proud of.  I read it aloud to Ming and Mom.  Ming liked it.

"I left out the part about running into a surfer on the hiking trail, with his sandy-brown long hair, wearing shorts and Tevas, with his golden retriever on a leash," I said. 

Then we talked about Tevas.  I went to their website--they still exist.  I kind of always wanted some.

I also want this book Celestial Wisdom which talks about life at all the different ages by Z Budapest.  But how many unread books do I have?

I also want a weighted blanket.  There's a blanket Mom made so thick and heavy it's like that.  Comforting.

This old lady I knew much of my life died.  She was a teacher at Mom's previous preschool and then worked as a substitute.  "I think she didn't have a mean bone in her body," Mom says.  "How many people can you say that about?"

https://santamariatimes.com/lifestyles/announcements/obituaries/ester-t-keough/article_876caafc-1c43-5fa8-abbb-f6ef968c80a6.html

RIP Ester Keough!

cucuy

Mom is drawing on her eyebrows again.  "My sister always walks me out to the car.  And I told her, Don't walk me out to the car!  What if there's a cucuy out there or something?

"She said, I have to walk you out to your car.  What if there's a cucuy out there or something?"

We laughed.  "So I said, Okay, how about half-way?"

disability

"People are shrinking and squeezing themselves into what counts as able-bodied under capitalism, and I think most people are doing the same thing with gender. Most people are gender non-conforming and we are squeezing ourselves into these categories to keep ourselves safe."--Mia Mingus, my new hero

https://www.them.us/story/ugliness-disability-mia-mingus?utm_sq=fwviery2tr&fbclid=IwAR22FTfwiRDhFno4i_YVDWZgF2gcofMjOcWjM6l2qZ4FEGdGNXhidRYNmh0

other people's kids

Once I had a good friend--I talked to her almost every day.  We chatted on gmail chat for hours.  She got up really late.  So we'd start talking in the afternoons.

Her spouse was a psych nurse, and they had two kids who were homeschooled.  And lots of animals.

Once they were visiting Sacramento, when I was living there.  We all went out to Indian food.  The older kid was ordering off the menu, but others were having buffet.  The kid started eating some rice that was from the buffet.

I told her to stop it.  I didn't want her to get in trouble for eating from the buffet.  I was really surprised when she started to cry.  I felt horrible.  I think she knew I wasn't trying to be mean or hurt her.  But something about being chastised was painful anyway.

Now she's a young adult.  I don't talk to her parents anymore but am still friends with them on facebook.

The other morning at the soupline, we were talking to our friend N.  He likes to bring his two little children.  The four year old walked off, picked up a rock, and was moving toward the pigeons. 

"NO THROWING ROCKS!" I said.

"Why?" the kid asked, spun around to face me.

"You can't hurt the pigeons!" I said.

"Why?" the kid asked again.  Our friend N seemed unconcerned.

Yesterday I was at Mom's dining room table writing a long letter to my friend in England for Thanksgiving comfort.  My mom told my niece to change the tablecloth.  It was time to set the table.

"I guess I'm getting the boot," I told my niece as she approached with the fresh tablecloth.  She laughed.  I gathered my writing things and relocated to the kitchen.

thankful for rain

Yesterday I failed to blog.  I was so sick it scared me.  I coughed like crazy and felt my throat was getting more and more swollen, constricted. 

We went to the health food store and bought cough drops.  Tried to nap and woke myself up coughing every minute.  Almost sent Ming back to the store for some cough syrup purchased by credit card.

Well, today is a new day.  I feel much better though I depressed myself this morning with facebook news.  Parents of young adults who died from type 1 diabetes as they tried to ration their insulin brought the ashes of their children to the drug company that charged $400 to $500 for a vial of insulin that costs $5 to make.  Sounds like it was intense.

https://truthout.org/articles/parents-deliver-ashes-of-diabetic-children-to-price-gouging-insulin-manufacturer/?fbclid=IwAR07sJqERHZSIGSEeKphJ13M_9nDKfKb_bM6Y_KDOngd9_qTRduKT_fOKjs

This is Chumash land.  Mom is cleaning up.  We'll make a feast.  I'm drinking orange juice and smelling my brother's backyard cigarette smoke as it comes through the open sliding glass door.

Last night it rained.  Thankful for rain.

suddenly sick

I sneeze.  I blow my nose.  I drink tea Ming makes me and orange juice.  I sleep.

Today we were supposed to go to Santa Barbara to see my bestie and her baby, but they're sick too!

Mom was putting on her makeup, drawing on her eyebrows, and we were talking about death.  "When my dad died, I grieved for everything we never had," she said.

"I didn't do that, when Dad died," I said.  "In a way, I had given up a long time before."

I told her Dad almost died so many times, I had a lot of practice.

"It's a weird feeling, when both of your parents are gone," Mom said.

"When you die, it'll be totally different," I said.

She complained to her doctor that the cancer center has all these classes and they're all during the day, so she can't go to any of them since she works.

"You're remarkable," the doctor told her.

"Did you tell him you're a badass?" I asked.

"No," Mom said.  "Too bad you weren't there.  You could have told him for me."

let's dance

Last week at community meal, J was telling us how her dad had a great Santa suit and would come visit as Santa every Christmas.

"You know that song, I saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus?" she asked.  "That happened to me!"

"That must have been disturbing!" R said.

"No, it was okay because it was my dad!" J said.

"But you didn't know it was your dad!"

"No, but it's okay!" J said. "Anyone can kiss Santa.  It's like kissing Jesus."

"It's like kissing David Bowie!" I said.  We were all laughing.  It was a good meal.

it's all relative

heart

heart shirt, moods, constellation dress

I'm wearing my new tie-dyed teeshirt I got from etsy.  It has a big heart on it then smaller hearts on the sleeves.  It's indigo and light blue and pink, so vivid and beautiful.  I will try to show you a picture.

Yesterday I was moody and unmotivated.  Ming hurt my feelings not saying goodbye when he left to go pick someone up to take to a doctor's appointment.  There was some confusion and rush related to a series of stressful phone calls and changed plans.  Then the doctor's appointment lasted for hours, which we didn't expect. 

The homeless person Ming was helping had been hit by a car.  He broke his back and ankle.

I needed time away from people.  So I stayed home.  I cried.  My mood was up and down. 

I don't like not having money.  My mom and two nieces have birthdays early next month.  I would love to give my nieces presents.  One of Ming's kids has a birthday December 5th.  I'm buying cards for everyone.  Heartfelt, loving words are nice.  But I wish to give more.

We got some boxes from storage and found an old belt of mine which happened to fit Ming, and he needed one.  His old one was unraveling.  I like to see him wearing it although unfortunately it's leather.

"Did you hang my dress on the line?" I asked Ming.  It's tight and I need it not to shrink.

"Yeah," he said.

"Do you like it?  Are you jealous?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said.

"Cause it's got constellations?  Cause it glows in the dark?"

"You've got stars in your pockets."

bad Catholic behavior

https://www.npr.org/2018/11/08/665251345/immigrant-communities-were-the-geographic-solution-to-predator-priests?utm_source=facebook.com&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=npr&utm_term=nprnews&utm_content=202909&fbclid=IwAR1j1-y4prsc5M0nxiY9CAzmrVGUlnFqlLzGMk872w9w5eVpU8qpSf3xP78

The Catholics moved the molesters to the immigrant neighborhoods, believing the immigrants wouldn't complain.

dress

I was on facebook on a vegan group and saw someone moving to Las Vegas asking where she and her family should live.  There were 25 or so responses, and no one said my neighborhood.

Lots of suggestions of Summerlin, where the rich people live.  And lots of suggestions of Henderson too.

I wanted to chime in in support of where Ming and I live.  But I felt awkward.  We have crime.  It's kind of a food desert.  But I like it here.  I feel way more comfortable here.  It's a real place.

Last night I went to a women's group.  It was the third new-to-me women's group I've been to in a month.  I feel burned out on people.  I think I'll skip the 11:30 women's group today at UMOK.

Tomorrow we leave town.  Today I need to pack and clean up.

I ordered a dress.  It has constellations on it.  I hope it comes today.  Then I'll wash it and wear it to the special party.

This morning I slept in, not wanting to wake up from a beautiful ritual dream.  There was this important water in a silver cup.

forced sterilization gets me down

I was just on facebook and started crying when I saw a headline about forced sterilization of Native women.  "Forced sterilization gets me down," I told Ming when he noticed me crying.

The women were denied access to their newborns until they agreed to be sterilized.  This was as recently as last year.  There's a lawsuit.

Sometimes I feel like giving up.  Earlier this year, I had a pregnancy test because I hadn't had my period in a while.  I realized my ankles had been swollen and I was more tired, falling asleep in chairs.  For a few days there we thought we might be having a baby, something I never wanted, but I was getting used to the idea.

I wrote a poem about it yesterday.  It mentions Christmas.  I'd like to write a new series of Christmas poems.

Last night R was over and we were talking about how I haven't played guitar in a long time--he asked why.  I said there are all these things I like to do every day and music fell off the list.  I said how this cough makes it hard for me to sing.  I said I didn't think being a musician was God's plan for me, this time--God wants me to be a writer.  Then I said, "I guess you never know.  Maybe God has more than one plan for me."

"Well yeah," R said.  "God's had a few so far."  I thought of my 42 years.  R has known me for only six years--he doesn't really know what my life has been.  Only I know, I guess.

Motherhood is not in God's plan for me, this time, I'm pretty sure.  But my heart aches for other moms.

https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thecurrent/the-current-for-november-13-2018-1.4902679/indigenous-women-kept-from-seeing-their-newborn-babies-until-agreeing-to-sterilization-says-lawyer-1.4902693?fbclid=IwAR0scTTXX6mcwUlbMJCkYWkIWkfvU8K15eUYz9b7AujTqJQSuPbqZIjs5eM

storage unit

Yesterday I cleaned out my inbox, burned my thumb on tortilla steam, talked to my mom, went to the storage unit for a few things. 

In the storage unit, everything's dirty.  They leaf blow the dirt right in.  It's pretty gross, coating everything.

This special bag my mom made me is falling apart.  I was strangely sad.  The yellow is disintegrating.

Picked up some Christmas cards from last year.  And the postcard collection I want to dissolve.

A winter coat is too small for me.  Maybe I'll give it to Safe Nest.

People are coming over to help us with the mailings.  I txted friends.

Ming put a little space heater by my feet.  It's improved my quality of life.

Oh, the peanut sauce noodles turned out great.  The split pea soup even better.  I didn't blend it.  We all liked it chunky.

peace

This morning I completed a beautiful gift, a beautiful amazing project.

M is afraid it'd get lost in the mail.  So he wants me to deliver it in person.

We have to go to costco for the Catholic Worker shop.  Then we need to come home and work on lunch.  Our friend S is coming over.

Split peas are soaking.  It will be a vegan feast.  I'm making peanut sauce noodles.  Historically, I've struggled with peanut sauces.  So we'll see.

And spinach salad.  I think peanut sauce and spinach go together really good.

I would like to say something controversial, unpopular.  I see this effort being made to prevent suicide in veterans.  War fucks people up.  So well-intentioned givers are spending all this money to try to help the vets. 

Seems to me the money is going in the wrong side.  How about we prevent war and prevent people from becoming vets.  Then they will not get fucked up in the first place.  An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.

I remember when I was in high school I saw the military recruiters on campus.  I was sickened by it, the kids being taken advantage of.  I wrote a nasty editorial for the school paper.  Some vets called my teacher and yelled at him on the phone.

The shooter in Thousand Oaks, he was a vet.  "When the troops come home, they don't come alone.  Where do you think all of that killing goes?"  That's lyrics from a song by Robbie.

Well, it's time to do the shop.  I haven't washed my hair in a long time.  Seems winter came, here.

pen mania

I went though this huge bin of pens and pencils.  There were some gluesticks too, some crayons, colored pencils, markers, highlighters, a razor thing, and an exactoknife.  Two dirty pennies.  Lint.

Someone must have donated this bin many years ago.  All the pens were dry except two.  And those two were skippy.

I gathered about 25 dry pens that I thought could take a refill.  The retractable pens. 

And yesterday we went to the office supply store.  I searched for refills among all the pens.  There were none.  I was like, well, I guess this is old fashioned.  I guess I have to look online.

Then Ming showed me the refills.  They were behind me in a aisle on small spinny racks.

I took apart the pens I thought most likely to have refills for sale.  I read the brand and other specifications.  Yes, there were refills.  But they were expensive.

Many years ago I was mildly obsessed with these retractable Parker pens.  I kept one in my pocket at all times.  When I quit smoking.  This was when I was around 24.

It was hard to tell how much the refills really cost because the refill racks were messy.  I didn't trust the right thing was under the right price.

But in the end I bought four refills.  I took a picture this morning after I fixed them.  I gave Ming the one with print because it's Union Pacific and he likes trains.

It feels like a good deed, to keep a pen out of the landfill, but maybe it's just nostalgia.

pumpkin comfort

We got this pumpkin at the pumpkin patch.  Ming intended to carve it for Halloween and never did. 

When we got it, it was covered in a net of green veins.  Over time, it's ripened to orange only.  I like it better this way. 

I asked Ming to move it where I can easily see it.  It's perfect.

This morning at the soupline I served salsa.  People love it.  I served jalapenos as well.  It worked out great--I had a table.

An acquaintance from out of town commented on a mutual friend's weight gain.  I marvelled at his idiocy.

Then we had a meeting.  It was cozy.  The offending acquaintance was relegated to the living room where he played with his phone.

Then Ming and I stopped for windmill water.

Then I made breakfast burritos with lots of broccoli.  Ming returned to the Worker to help with some children volunteers.

I wanna make split pea soup but need to chop the veg.

And that's my morning.

dystopian dreams

Maybe other than big ocean waves, my most common dream is being trapped in a dystopia.

I have dreamed this so many times.  Trapped on a train where we are being killed one-by-one if we object, with weird wires.  Living in a concrete parking structure, post-apocalyptic, trying to find food and hide from the people who were trying to kill us.  In a cult in a strip mall being forced by the leader to watch a hypnotizing brainwashing movie.  Don't look!  Herded into a stadium where they are going to gas us.  What was that one, with all the naked people and someone playing piano.

Well, last night it was like this.  Way too many people in way too small a space.  Trying on bathingsuits, maybe going swimming, men and women separate.  The guards were lax, and I was in a crowded room yelling to a bunch of white people, "There are more of us that there are of them!  We can kill them and be free!"  Their blank looks like, what are you talking about?  Like they didn't notice what was happening.

But this time a few of us escaped.  We had these old-fashioned cars with slick, dark green seats.  We had way too much stuff--clothes wrapped in sheets, other strange bundles.  The cars were full of stuff, but then we needed the people to fit.

At first they weren't going to bring me.  I pushed my way.  We found this other car, empty, that had been ours before, at a gas station...?

But it wasn't clear that we were really escaping.  Maybe the whole world was broken, nowhere to go.

"Why do I dream like this?" I asked Ming as we lay in bed this morning, trying to wake up.  He'd had a bad dream too, about a fire.

He said something about my past lives.  It's really uncanny.  I read 1984, Animal Farm, and Brave New World in school, and I watched some Twilight Zone marathons as a kid, but as an adult I totally avoid that stuff.

pretty pretty pillow

I saw this picture on the internet, I think on facebook, and saved it.  Wanted to show it to Ming.

dog ignoring

I started my new environmentalist zine.  I hate that word--it's so clunky.  Such an ugly word for such a beautiful thing.

Earth loving.  Earth healing?  Earth embracing.  Earth helping? 

Well, the earth is so big.  We are so small, in a way, considering the damage we've done.

I went to a peace vigil.  I wasn't feeling it.  I talked to friends, held my sign, heard the passing vehicles honk.

Then I went to the women's support group.  We talked about friendship, trust, solidarity.  I talked about striking a balance between having an open heart and taking care of myself.  Being an introvert but loving people.  How solidarity is the goal, but people love drama and taking sides. 

People I respect so much and who I consider really smart will jump to the nearest conclusion and I'll be like, what??

My friend gave me a ride home and asked about my dad's death, so I told the story.

Then I made pasta.  It was delicious, with sun-dried tomato pesto.

Ming says I should tell you the neighborhood dogs are out of control.  They are barking like crazy.  He was listening to one at 3am. 

I try to ignore them.  Dogs will be dogs.

strong will to live

I'm working on some secret stuff.  Tis the season.

From outside the tomato you could see the little sprouts inside pushing against the tomato skin.

Brezney told me to spend five minutes visualizing the attainment of my most holy desire.  I've had lots of fantasies in my life.  But what do I really want, now?  

Ming is separating delicata seeds from gack.  I heated up leftovers for lunch.

Thinking about salad.  The past.  What people say vs what people do.

R gave me a ride home from therapy.  Then we stopped by the Worker to pick up a few things.  I scored two pounds of small red beans.  What a joy.  I love beans.

The only thing better than beans is free beans!

Yesterday these kidney beans I made went over well.  They had coconut milk in them as well as cumin seeds, curry powder, salt, onion, garlic.  I froze the leftovers.

I feel so happy I could cry.

how to fix Laura-Marie

Someone told me she thought this long-lingering cough is because I need to speak my truth more, that I need to unblock my throat chakra.  A couple years ago I was working hard on that and made a lot of progress.  But maybe she's right?

I write a lot--emails, letters, blog posts, journaling, zines.  Does that count as speaking my truth?  Maybe I need to do it more with my mouth.

Someone else told me to megadose on vitamin c, to take it every two hours, that I would poop a lot but it would move things on their way.  She said something about a virus.  I don't think I have a virus, but what the heck.  I'm kind of scared to take a ton of vitamin c, but I happen to have some.

Sometimes I think I just need to try more allergy medicines till I find the right one.  Oh, life.

All sortsa stuff is going on.  Ming went to court to support our friend who was told today to stay out of trouble for three months or he'll go to jail.  I think it's racist.

I'm making community lunch.  I'll start the beans in an hour.

Our van broke down again.  The new transmission was a dud!  We were stuck at an intersection.  People behind us were so mad, like it was our fault our van had broken.  They yelled obscenities at Ming as they vroomed by.  Oh, Las Vegas.

thriller

I decided what I'm making for community meal tomorrow.

roasted delicata squash
green salad
pot of beans
one-pot pasta: roasted red pepper

Should be great.  We are supposed to get our minivan back this afternoon, so I will be able to go to the store.

Yesterday's theology class was fantastic.  But the reading was some accounts of religious highs and lows and plateaus--I was thinking, wow, these people have no idea.  I guess as someone diagnosed bipolar who has lived through some extremes, I'm an expert.

Lots of our tiles in the kitchen are cracked.  A lot were cracked and got fixed, maybe a year ago, while we were away on a trip.  Originally the floor was tan, but the handyperson replaced the broken tiles with blue.  Blue tiles were freely available.

So our floor is weird.  And lots more tiles cracked.  Not sure why.

Well, the delicious chai Ming made me, I drank it all, so I guess it's time to make breakfast.

For a very small period of time, I worked at a bookstore in Bishop.  They never told me how much they were paying me, and when I found out, I quit.  Oops.

But I had access to a lot of books, and I read a lot back then.  Publishers would send those unedited proofs?  And you couldn't sell them.  We could take home what we wanted.  Paper bags in a back room were overflowing with books.

I read this book, maybe the most disturbing thing I've ever read.  It's about these girls who steal a baby off someone's front porch and what happens then.  It's chilling.  I think about it often.  It's really masterful but not the sort of thing I should put myself through. 

It was a thick book and I remember asking myself if I should keep going, when it was really disgusting.  Almost stopped plenty of times, but something sick in me pushed through.

This morning on goodreads I was reading reviews of a different thriller that many of my goodreads friends have read.  Something in me is drawn to the gruesome.  But I don't think that's really my lesson this lifetime.

Like school shooters--there was a book on Columbine, and I read reviews of it, but I never went so far as to request the book from the library.  It isn't good for me.

I always said I didn't like horror movies because I'd seen enough horror in my life.  But some people find it cathartic.

Well, I should make breakfast.  Have a good day, everybody.

you can make a difference

solidarity forever

Last night I was falling asleep and started writing a poem in my head about someone who was my teacher a long time ago.  I asked Ming to bring me some paper and wrote the poem.  It was my first time writing a whole poem in quite a long time.  Felt great.  I got the idea I could write a series of poems about facebook friends I never talk to.

I picked up my skirt and there was a bug on it.  I was disgusted thinking it was a cockroach or cricket and dropped it.  Ming took my skirt to the bathroom to kill the bug and flush it down the toilet.  Turned out it was a spider.

"A black widow?" I asked.

"It had stripes," he said.

This morning I was dreaming fitful dreams about being a bad Mormon like I was going to get in trouble for my failures.  Gave up on sleep and got up early.

You can't please all the people all the time. 

I would like to believe in solidarity.

need energy

Yesterday I got a package I was waiting for.  It took 16 days to get here from China.  I got a pencil pouch, a weird green and gray nylon bag with lots of pockets, some post-it notes that depict the moon, some colorful cards the size of business cards but blank, metal clippie things that depict the Eiffel Tower and are supposed to hold a photo or whatever upright.

It was a good mail day all around.  I also got three letters and some special postcards.

Yesterday I went to a new women's support group at UMOK.  It was through an interpreter, which slowed things down, but I want to learn Spanish, so it's great to hear it.  There were hugs, and I want to return.  I friended some new people on facebook.  I really hope it doesn't fizzle.  They have a lot of ideas: crafts, jewelry, self-defense, reiki, yoga, candle-making!

Today is my friend's birthday.  She's going camping by herself.  I kind of wish I could go camping more easily.  Seems like a really big deal.  I need more nature time.

But our minivan is still in the shop.  We will get it this afternoon or Monday.

I'm feeling positive about life.  I have some good plans and ideas.  I just need some energy to implement them.

good medicine

Yesterday our friend came over, this lady I want to be friends with.  I really like her.  I made vegan carrot curry soup and rice, and she brought salad and vegan dressing. 

She told me I have good medicine inside me.  She invited me to a women's new moon healing ritual. 

I want to go to Mexico.  She told me not to be scared.

Our minivan's flexplate broke again.  It's mysterious.  We are outliers.  They are replacing the transmission for free--it's under warranty--and doing the labor, but we have to pay for the new flexplate.  It's $400.

Our car insurance was supposed to be canceled but I saved the day, calling this morning early and giving them a new credit card number.  The chip was falling out of my card, so I had to get a new one.

My skin is so dry.  Now my lips cracked.

I found this special pen in a bin of pens and pencils I sorted through yesterday.  I'm trying to sell it on ebay.

Now I remember I tried selling something before, years ago.  It didn't sell, and it kept relisting.  It was a pita.

Ming makes really good chai.  He's been making it for me in the mornings.  Something about him.