sun worshipper, different ways to be crazy, garlic

Cicadas are pretty weird.  Why would a bug make a sound like sizzling electricity?  Does everyone think they sound like a loud problem?  I felt they were a summer force, more than an actual insect.  But then I saw their exoskeletons clinging to this tree.  I guess they really are real.

I wanted to tell Ming a thing from a long time ago, but then I ended up telling him the whole story.  It took at least half an hour.  Horrible stuff from when I was young, problems leading to problems.  I wanted him to be proud of me that I survived all that and am doing well.  He said he was proud of me. Not sure why it matters...

"All that matters is what you think about yourself," he told me later.

"I'm not allowed to care what you think too?" I asked.  He's not a regular person--he's my spouse.  On one hand, I know what he means.  On the other, just let me need what I need.  Give me a break.

Sometimes I wish I had a teeshirt that says--I've had just about enough of your newage bullshit.  Then I could just point to the shirt.  But I guess if you can't take the heat, you should get out of the kitchen.  I can dish it, but I can't take it?  Some food-related metaphor applies here.  Eat your heart out?

Before that we were having a conversation about doctors, my ulcer bleed, blood sugar issues, misdiagnosis, medication.  I was mad about being given shoddy tools and then criticized for not using them, that doctors are comfortable but I'm not, that the medical system is set up in a way that hurts me and many other people.

"Yeah, you would think that--you're a hippie!" I said to him, can't remember what about.  "Just look at your shirt!"  We were laughing.  He's wearing his new orange teeshirt I bought for him, with a sunflower that says--Go solar.

I wanted a shirt that says--Renewable is doable.  Then there's a beautiful picture of a sun.  I wrote to Syracuse Cultural Workers to ask they make it in my size.  The wrote back--it's not profitable.

I'm not super into solar panels, but I love the sun.

There are all different ways to be crazy.  I've cultivated a deep wellness.  Sure I have mood swings, hear voices, am way too sensitive, get depressed anxious paranoid, stay up half the night writing, and have values that don't match what they're supposed to, at all.  But that's ok--I can trust myself.  My mood could go haywire, but I always have me.  It might have to do with faith.

You could be crazy with a deep wellness, like me.  You could be crazy with a deep unwellness, like something is seriously wrong in your spirit, and there's no reason to have faith that you'll prevail.  A long time ago, I was like that.  I didn't think I'd last long.  Somehow I survived all that.

I didn't want Ming to try to control what I thought about doctors, but then I was trying to control what he thought about doctors, so it didn't make much sense.  I can think whatever I think--he can think whatever he thinks.  He and I are on the same page about almost everything, though.  When the value is really important to me, sometimes I feel alone in my opinion and like his solidarity.

I thought I was really good at love.  I do have a big heart and am not afraid to feel.

This morning I was making this mediterranean chickpea salad.  I was making it in stages.  Also, I can't have raw onions and don't like raw bell pepper, so I left those out and added some sundried tomatoes.  It was time to make the vinaigrette.  I was putting it off because squeezing lemons is a chore I don't like.

Finally I had all the dressing ingredients in a little bottle.  The recipe said to shake it till it emulsified.  I wasn't sure I shook it enough.  Next time I'll definitely add some garlic.  My friend tried some.  She said maybe basil also.

iron-rich foods list, doctor angry at doctor, bee boxes, changing the laws of physics for Ming

I reresearched iron-rich foods and made a list of the ones I want to eat more of.  They are all yummy foods, so why not.  I really need to heal my blood.  I need more strength and all the energy I can get.

iron-rich foods I want to eat

lentils

beans

spinach

peas

white mushrooms

dried apricots

prune juice

blackstrap molasses

potatoes--especially the skin

nuts

quinoa

amaranth

rice

oatmeal

dark chocolate

hemp seeds

chia seeds

flax seeds

tahini

cumin

thyme

When I saw my primary care doctor the other day, he seemed angry that I'm still anemic.  He said the ulcer is still bleeding, and my GI doc needs to do something about it.  But what is she supposed to do.  I'm the one who needs to heal.

Afterward I was talking to Ming about it--why did he get mad?  Ming said the doctor was mad at the other doctor.

I was taking some iron supplements that are supposed to be really good.  I ran out, so I ordered some more.

favorite things
1.  bee boxes
2.  questions with no question mark
3.  hugs
4.  Mama
5.  Ming
6.  nature time
7.  Moomins
8.  non-questions with a question mark?
9.  hiding out
10.  dreams, remembering my dreams, forgetting my dreams, hating my dreams, glimpses of dream memory that come unbidden throughout the day and confuse me and make me dizzy, dream-feeling residue
11. lists
12.  delicious clean water

Last night I was feeling so lost.  I told my friend, I felt like I was living my life by throwing darts.  Something seems like a good idea one moment and a bad idea the next.  It's hard to trust myself.  Friendship baffles me.  It feels like air.  Too much imagination, not enough...what?  It's like I want things to be solid that aren't supposed to be solid.

Ming wants to change the laws of physics.  He doesn't like when things are in front of other things.  He also hates sliding.  I said he could petition for a change.  Something tells me it's a bit late in the game to change physics.  I was thinking about how water freezes when it expands.  Don't want to change that one.

Ming's hated things
1.  stuff in front of stuff
2.  sliding
3.  death
4.  inadequate dishwashing
5.  that time someone came to fix the sink and casually put some dirty equipment into the clean dish drainer
6.  when someone says they want to help but has their own agenda and helps in an unhelpful way
7.  facebook quirks about being logged in as a person vs logged in as a group
8.  inappropriate disability advice?  oh wait I think I'm the one who hates inappropriate disability advice

my hated things
1.  full voicemail boxes
2.  I'm sorry but this subscriber has a voicemail box that is not set up yet
3.  vehicle breakdown anxiety
4.  sleep deprivation to the point of memory loss, decision making trouble, and other stuff I can't remember or can't decide whether to mention
5.  money
6.  muddy parsley
7.  being misunderstood long term
8.  when people post extremely disturbing news on facebook that I don't know what to do with, like they're in a disturbingness contest
9.  getting lonely while needing a break from being social
10.  people who lack the imagination to see things from any perspective other than their own
11.  assumptions about me based on common values that I reject
12.  a place for everything and everything all over the place

Yesterday in the courtyard I saw three cicada exoskeletons stuck to a mesquite tree.  I'd never seen them before.  I wanted to take a picture but didn't have my phone.  I'll take a picture for you in the morning, if they're still there.

I don't usually imagine stuff that doesn't exist.  But yesterday I was imagining, what if there was something like a tomato you could make delicious sauce out of, but not as strong and overpowering as tomatoes.  Some fruit like a mild tomato yet still delicious.  Maybe it does exist but my food circle is too small.

I found this packet of razor blades in my desk drawer that looks older than I am.  They're double-sided.

anarchy garden

"Why did the marigolds die?"

"I dunno!'

"Did you pull them?"

"No!" 

"Did they die of their own free will?"

"They died of their own free will."

"Do you see that new one growing?"

"Where?"

"Right there by those fava beans.  On this side."

"Oh yeah."

"You can tell by the serrated leaves."

"Yeah."

"How did it get there?"

"I dunno!"

The delicata squash is growing, so lovely--sprawling and cute, with its tendrils, but kind of blocking out the volunteer tomato plant. 

The tree collard Ming propagated, I thought it was dead long ago, but lo and behold--it lives.  There are withered brown leaves but two strong green ones on a strong green stem.

Experimenting with tank tops.

The Lammas ceremony yesterday at church, Ming brought our prayer for the coming year.

Lammas--first harvest

I have a friend T who I like very much.  Five years ago at Pagan Pride, she did a rock workshop that I loved and still remember.  We've had interesting moments, over the years.  She's a priestess.

I used to think priestesses were high maintenance, self-righteous, and out of touch.  Now I know priestesses can be the kindest, smartest, down to earth, inspiring people.

I saw on facebook she's doing the sermon at the UU church for Lammas.  And there was a craft event making corn dollies for the service.  They represent abundance, harvest, and gratefulness, something about the sun.

I thought maybe I would be too clumsy / unskilled to make a corn dolly.  I was slightly anxious, thinking maybe I should just watch because I wouldn't be good enough to make them.

My friend A gave me a ride with her two kids.  We told stories in the car.  A little child was telling me her party fantasies.  One was about an ice bar.

"Wait, I'm confused," I said.  "Is this real or pretend?"

My friend explained that the kid wants to do this for real.  Summer party plans.  The kid invited me to her parties.  I said, "Well, sounds good, if I'm available...  You could let your mom know when it is, and she could invite me."

"But I'm inviting you right now!" said the kid.

When we got to the church, my priestess friend T had lots of corn husks that she'd soaked in water.

So, we learned how to make corn dollies.  I thought I couldn't do it, but then I ended up being a badass corn dolly maker.  In fact, I did some variations on the theme.

I thought it would be cool if I made a little baby corn dolly and strapped the baby one to a parent's back.  I didn't know if making a baby one was possible, but it worked very well.  I gave them horns, for some reason thinking that was a good look.

Then another corn dolly I made, I gave a tail.  Not sure why--just felt like a tail was a nice idea.

I had a lot of feelings while making the dollies.  Since I was a kid, I've been making tamales with my extended family at Christmastime.  I have a lot of feelings about corn husks, mixed feelings.  They feel like home, to me.  But there's an aspect of stress also--expectations, doing it well enough, getting it right.

The way they feel in my hands, the texture.  The yellowish-tannish color.  The lines.  When you see a little hole made by the bite of an insect.  Smaller and bigger corn husks.  Like the small ones are vulnerable and need to be protected, while the big ones are maybe too much.

My friend A is giving me a ride to the service also.  The church is changing.  Sermons don't work well for me, usually.  I would like some kind of movement, a simple ritual.  I go to religion and spirituality for something emotionally nourishing.  Usually sermons make me feel like I'm in a class.

Those are the two large dollies.

Here's the one with the baby.

The craft felt good, its seasonalness--meaningful, like it was affecting something wordless deep inside me.  When I tied the knots, I tried to put love and good feelings into it.  I tried to keep my heart open and stay with the experience.

The moral of the story is--if I think I'm too awkward or stupid to do something, I might be wrong and actually super-creative and amazing at it.  I should remember that!

potato crisis, pill anguish, laughing at doctor, trust Ming

I was cooking soup--it's so hot now. I didn't realize that I was just barely comfortable and that the heat of cooking the soup would push me over into discomfort.


I was feeling very hot, chopping potatoes, frustrated also because many of the potatoes were black in the middle. I was chopping carefully to avoid the black parts and feeling pissed off about capitalism. The potatoes we got from Costco, and they're fresh. I mean, we bought them just recently. Why should we pay for a huge bag of potatoes, and then most of them have this problem I have to chop around, and half the potato I throw away.


The workers are exploited, but everyone suffers. Rather than sell decent potatoes, they have the worst quality they can get away with and make as much money as they can. It just seemed sad. The world doesn't have to be like this, but it is. It hurts to imagine something better and feel its possibility so real inside me, but then I'm not able to create that world.


The soup was supposed to be vegan potato corn chowder, but I don't have flour, so I skipped that, and it didn't get thick and creamy like a chowder. At first bite, I was turned off by the sweetness from the coconut milk and corn. But the more I ate it, the more I liked it. Ming loved it.


coconut oil

one onion, chopped

three carrots, chopped

garlic powder

better-than-b

water

potatoes, chopped

can of coconut milk

black pepper

nutritional yeast

a cup of frozen roasted corn


I used lite coconut milk because we had some in the pantry. It would have been better with regular, I'm sure. The frozen roasted corn I bought a long time ago, and it was good to finally use it. It had been in the freezer for months but was perfectly fine.


I was crying because I was really uncomfortable from my swelled up ankles. My period was hurting me with cramps, but I can't take ibuprofen anymore because of the ulcer. I'm feeling weird about pills, like I really don't want anymore. Like--let me go off into the forest and die, like the sad, ill animal that I am. I know that's an overreaction. But sometimes I feel that way.


Also, I was questioning the motives of a new friend who I was talking with, in a way that seemed paranoid. I had Mng read the exchange, and he said the lady was just being friendly. It hurts not to be able to trust my feelings. If you can't trust yourself, who can you trust? Ming, I suppose.


My doctor chastised me, the other day, for gaining a pound. I laughed at him. I told Ming afterward how it feels good to have an appetite again. I feel alive.


But I wish the doctor listened to me. It's fine if he wants to believe the propaganda and pretend dieting works. But the least he could do is listen to me when I say I'm not going there. It's like his "should" is so big he can't see around it. If his only solution is "lose weight," then he doesn't have much of a solution.


Thin people go to the doctor and get a diagnosis and help--fat people go to the doctor and get told "lose weight." Then years later a test shows they had such-and-such all along, all that pain for nothing. I'm tired of it.


At least I'm strong enough to laugh at him. I know a lot of people take that stupid chastisement in, and it affects them so deeply, they get medical phobias. Then they avoid doctors until they're in incredible pain or have a lot of damage, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy that fat people are unhealthy. I have some insight about that--wonder how. Hmmm.


Not sure whether to try to find a doctor who will actually listen to me, try to educate this one, or just run away. Or keep smiling and put up with it. I only have so much energy.

farm thoughts, goats, community, trusting people

Ming and I were headed south to LA to stay with friends two nights before returning home to Las Vegas.  We were taking our time and stopped north of Santa Barbara so Ming could rest. 

We pulled over on this road with huge eucalyptus trees.  I looked at strips of loose bark falling off the trunks, looked at leaves eaten on the edges, looked at seed pods.  Roadside deep with leaf litter and shed bark, like no one had cleared it away in many many years.

Then I was walking down the street and came upon a field with goats in it.  I liked the mama with baby best.  The mama nudged the baby until it stood on long, shaky legs.  The goats were very cute.   I talked to them.  They backed away a little, not approaching me for food or affection.

I was thinking about animals, gender, how nasty billy goats can be, friends who raised goats, lots of stories and experiences with goats.  Was the baby ok--it wasn't newborn but seemed to walk kind of poorly.  Other baby goats I've seen, over the years.  How animals are treated, around here.

Lots of double standards.  I told my friend how at the pier, the birds are protected, but the fish, people catch them and kill them all day.  Why is that--the bird is valuable to the point of legal protection, but the fish is to catch and kill.  My friend used some logic to explain, maybe plentifulness of fish and fewer birds, but I think a lot of it is custom. 

How pet animals are sacred, but killing and eating other mammals is perfectly fine.  We could make up some explanations, but I don't think it actually makes sense.

I got a newsletter from a farm where some friends lived, and they have a picture of slaughtering chickens on the cover.  I wondered why.  It wasn't graphic, yet the situation disturbs me--the smiling humans in their places, the chicken on the stump. 

Killing animals can be glorified, and I don't get it.  Like, "Hey, we are doing this authentic, ancient, self-sufficient thing--admire us," but I don't see the glory in it, at all.  Bloody, loud, painful.  An animal's terror for a special food you can eat.  That could never be worth it, for me.

I told Ming about the photo, and he asked, "Is there a content warning?"  I said, "No, it's right on the cover!"

Maybe it's good to be open about what you're doing, if you're going to do that?  Was it my invitation to divorce myself from that farm, a sign?  I've felt weird about it from the beginning.  It's very beautiful there.  So many experiences--

an important conversation in a forest that changed the direction of my life, hurting my foot by stepping on a nail by some certain garden beds, a visitor who followed me around trying to convince me of something about God, being praised for picking a lot of ripe strawberries, a morning panic attack, some singing, an argument Ming and I had in whispers, sorting seeds, a conversation with a nice stranger who ended up becoming a friend in a teeshirt that depicted Minnesota ducks.  A huge art depicting a galaxy, a piano that needed to be tuned, when I took the bread outside to thaw and shooed the birds from eating it, flies, a private meeting, a phone call, a group photo, a prayer. 

Lots of discomfort, confusion, fear, longing for community and ease but not finding it, trying to feel ok but not feeling ok.  Concern about money, vehicles, other technology, fires, plant destruction, wellbeing of animals, leadership, needing more farmers.  Questions of religion, what makes a good community, what hard work is, the perceived usefulness and un-usefulness of crazy people like me.  Broken down buildings, a treacherous staircase, the place where they used to make the special candles. 

The farm is changing hands, and I don't know what it means to me.  A field where I planted seeds very close together, a cat who was supposed to eat mice, ideas for how to make the workflow better with animal manure--I thought they should put it in a cart and haul it up into a forest, dump it there, and come back months later to haul the composted material down to the garden beds.  Ming has a permaculture design certificate and I don't.

I always thought requiring the other workers to be Christian was a bad idea because it was so limiting, and I couldn't decide whether it was too unnecessarily narrow, or if it was just honest about a need.  Who can we pray with and live with.  It can be hard for me to decide stuff like that--what's too demanding.  But the Christianity requirement kept us from ever living there, which is great because I think it would have been horrible for me.  The isolation of that farm, being so far away, that county, the bumpy dirt roads, too much required of me.

Things are always changing.  Coming home, I want to know what happened while we were away.  Is everything ok, do you still love us.  My friend tells me we can rely on certain things here, and I want to believe her.  Ming asked years ago, if he died, would they take care of me--they said yes.  I want to trust, but it's really hard to trust people.

happy retreat week

Today's the day--potato salad day.

Also, my retreat begins.  Don't talk to me about volunteer work stuff.  Talk to the hand!

My friend posted on facebook a meme of affirming things to say to kids.  One was "I just know you're going to be successful."  According to my world view, a kid is successful right now.  So I made my own list, starting with--You are successful right now.  And I kept going.

So I made a list of 30 or so things.  I'll put it in an upcoming zine.

Ming made me tea--I was craving lemongrass.  He's telling me to get compression socks.  "When are you going to get a job to pay for my socks?" I asked him.  Sock job.

retreat week ideas

small ritual

sing

workbook

elevate feet

quiet time with M

copious alone time

draw--make zine art

pray

hear holy music

guided meditation youtube

chair yoga

make special dance

Library selfie the other day.

a potato is a good thing to do stuff to

fried potatoes

hash browns

potato salad--mayo based

potato salad--olive oil, vinegar, salt, caraway seeds

potato leek soup

roasted potatoes

plain potatoes with butter and salt--Ming's Delight

twice-baked potatoes

cheesy potatoes

scalloped potatoes

potatoes cooked, mashed, mixed with legit veg, and fried as a patty or croquette

potato pancakes

potato chowder

potatoes in a supporting role in some other kind of soup

potatoes roasted with other root veg--carrots, sweet potatoes, rutabaga, turnip, parsnips, beets

breakfast potatoes made fancy with cheese, salsa, sauces

some kind of potato casserole

potatoes with beans or chili--good combination

What am I forgetting?  I don't wanna make french fries, chips, or mashed potatoes.

A long time ago, a friend took me to this restaurant--I think it was Brazilian.  My favorite dish was an appetizer--cold boiled potato slices with a special dressing on them, creamy and delicious, pale yellow.  There were hard-boiled egg slices too.

I realized just now that cold boiled potatoes with a lovely dressing and hard-boiled eggs basically = potato salad.  It was just presented in another way.  So I was googling Brazilian potato salad recipes.  I found one that I liked with lots of chopped olives and lime juice.

https://www.easyanddelish.com/brazilian-potato-salad/

My point is to use this glut of wonderful yukon gold potatoes Mom gave me.  I don't want to buy a bunch of limes.  We're kind of without a vehicle, as our minivan has so much wrong with it right now, I don't want to drive it.  The ac stopped working in LA a few days ago, on top of everything else.

I'm feeling happy, like things are possible.  Earlier I was overwhelmed.  I feel glad I'm taking a retreat.  

Small things can make me deeply happy and comforted.  I never knew taking a sabbath would be so nourishing for me.  Funny how you never know until you try.

why I'm a vegetarian abridged

We stopped by Naan Stop for some Indian food.  The veggie rice bowl is $6.  Ming got tofu saag, while I got the channa.  I never ever order that.  But the worker was giving samples.  The garbanzo beans were impossibly soft and super delicious.  Cooked from dry vs out of a can, they're like two different foods.

"What's the dish on the end?" I asked.

"Veggie xxxx," the worker said.

"Veggie what?" I asked.

"Veggie curry," he said.  "We call it curry, but there's no curry in it."

Basically I felt it was a made up dish with no name.  No problem.  He dished me samples in very small plastic cups.  It was fun to try everything.

"Are you vegetarian?" he asked.

"Yes," I said.

"Why?" he asked, in a strange combative tone.

I paused with surprise.  "For the environment," I said.

"For the animals," he answered for me, backing down.  His "why?" wasn't a real question, more of a challenge.  He didn't really want to hear my reason, believing he already knew it.

He had a little girl he was trying to take care of while working.  He seemed intellectual, feisty, and maybe cranky.  Not sure about him.

In actually I think meat is kind of gross.  I don't wanna eat blood, fat, skin, or muscle, or encounter bone or any worse stuff I will not even mention to you.  If a mammal, that animal was carried and birthed by its mother, loved by her, probably nursed and licked, nudged, encouraged, cherished.  I don't think I have more of a right to live than a mammal.  I feel the same as them.  They can't talk, but they can do other cool things.

As for birds, I used to think they were pretty different from mammals.  But crows are smarter than some people.  I don't think people are valuable based on how smart they are.  But it seems twisted.  They have personalities, form alliances, hold grudges.  I don't want to kill birds.

Fish and shrimp, I don't relate to them, much.  But it seems unnecessary to eat them.  I don't want to see a dead fish and know it died for me.  I don't wanna kill anything.  Except mosquitoes.  Some bugs are about it.

And I feel like if I wouldn't do it myself, I wouldn't want to pass it off to anyone and make them do my dirty work for me.  An uncle used to work in a slaughterhouse.  He didn't like it, but he was trying to stick around for the retirement.  He told me some terrible tales I'll spare you.  I could never do that.  No way it's worth it.

We took the food to go.  Ming left some donated books in the little free library in front of the co-op.  We drove downtown to the public library.  We sat outside for a long time.  I enjoyed the eucalyptus trees. 

I ate some channa and rice.  It was too spicy, so Ming and I traded.  I ate almost all of his tofu and some of his saag, so delicious--soft, slippery, salty, tender, green, intense, warming, complex, satisfying.  And the channa was way hotter than the saag.  Ming liked it.

Then we were at the library--I was trying to email a friend, but I got distracted reading about an iceman mummy.  I needed to be distracted, so that's ok.

Then Ming went to get the minivan out of the parking structure, but it had a flat tire.  He seemed upset when he finally picked me up.  I think he was scared because a tow truck couldn't get into a parking structure.

Too many things are going wrong.  It makes me want to stay home.  Life is pretty damn risky.  But, I guess risk is unavoidable.  "A boat is safe in harbor, but that's not what boats are made for."

All this is an introduction to the picture.

tortillas part II

I realized that tortillas are kind of like the moon.  They have the roundness.  The spots on a tortilla are like the craters on the moon,  cool and random-looking.  I mean if you held a good tortilla in the sky, it could remind you of the moon.  They're both beautiful.

We are in LA.  I was having an intense dream.  The room is hot from outside air or cold from the ac.  I'm hungry for something carby like bread but hesitate to raid our host's kitchen.

I needed comfort.  I talked to Ming like an intense rambling extreme talker, telling him a story about grad school--kind of the whole story, things I never told him before, for around 30 minutes.  He got a lot of facts and bits he'd already heard put together into a bigger picture.  So that's good.  However, it was mostly 20 years ago.  I know those things that happened still affect me, so I guess it matters.

I looked up my old department head on wikipedia.  Yes, he's 80 and still alive.

I was thinking how far I've come.  For a few years there, I barely talked.  I was so damaged!  Also, I was so afraid of people.  Skeptical about everyone's motives--why would this person want to talk to me?  What do they want from me? when probably she just wanted to be friends. 

When I moved from Santa Barbara to Irvine, I cried and cried.  I used to be so bad at change and transitions.  It's still hard for me.  But back then, I could barely do it.

I had some aspects where I was precocious and strangely skilled, and then I had blanks spots where I had no idea what I was doing and was missing the most basic of common sense.  It was weirdly bipolar.  I think people saw the precociousness and strange skill and thought, She'll be fine.  But I was struggling over very basic things.  Almost like learning disability.

When people tell me I'm lucky, in a way they're right, but I've also worked hard for a lot of what I have now.  The healing was work.  I'm sure I've self-medicated and wasted time, but it would have been a lot easier to check out than face demons and make effort to see what happened and change my patterns.

Once I wrote a friend a letter on a tortilla.  It dried brittle and crumbled.  He kept the bits for a while.

Where I did my undergrad, they used to throw tortillas during basketball games.  At a certain point, the fans would whip out their hidden tortillas and throw them like frisbees onto the court.  I never saw it in person but on the news, many years ago--a small clip of hundreds of tortillas landing on the wood floor.  They got banned.  Can't remember the meaning of the tortillas.  Maybe it was just funny without regular meaning.

http://www.ucsbgauchos.com/fan_zone/Locos/nickname

My first college roommate was a Mexican-American woman (my second roommate had the same demographic) and there was a thing people would say--ai, que gaucho!  Well, it wasn't gaucho but another word that sounded like that--gacho.  But the mascot of the school was the gauchos.  Some Argentinian cowboys.

https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=gacho

I know it's cooler to like corn tortillas, but the softness of flour tortillas is so comforting to me.  I like both, but I remember when I realized enchiladas could be good with flour tortillas and requested Mom make my birthday enchiladas with flour.  I was a teenager.  She was skeptical, but that became the family norm, they were so good.

I would like my birthday again.  My friend's birthday is in February.  Once a year seems not enough.  I like giving people presents for no reason.  People need a lot of celebrating--thank you for surviving.  I would like more holidays.  Please send more holidays.  Thanks.

no sleep

I was eating a toasted everything bagel in the middle of the night.  I had some labneh I was putting on it.  Great idea.

But some labneh fell off the knife and onto my computer.  Ming was eating chips and salsa in the middle of the night.  I asked him for a paper towel to clean up the computer labneh.

Somehow I was doing a poor job.  I would wipe up some labneh but manage to smear more labneh.  I couldn't manage the paper towel complexity.  "I'm doing this in the worst way!"  Ming and I started to laugh.

Then he got me another paper towel and ate some watermelon.  He's thinking about meteorites.  I read the lyrics to No Sleep Till Brooklyn.  Wow--too beastie, too boyish.  Seems like women are treated like trash in a way that's supposed to be appealing.  Yuck.  It was 1986.

The good news: my friend followed through, translating the series of poems I wrote for a fundraiser zine for Immigrant Families Together.

The also good news: I have a wonderful plan for my retreat.  Along with prayer, singing, rest, meditation, I want to make a special dance for a special purpose.

I remember when Ming and I got married.  I wanted to choreograph a strange dance to do during the ceremony.  In my mind, I could almost see it--something alien, angular, funny, fun.  A newish kind of dance that might surprise.  I asked my best friend to help, and she said no.  The ceremony was great anyway.

Two antennas met on a roof, fell in love, and got married.  The ceremony was okay, but the reception was excellent.

proper use of tortillas

Yesterday I was researching puns.  I read some examples and was laughing.  Here's a favorite.

I wrote a song about a sandwich.  Well, it’s actually more of a wrap.

I remember when I first saw a wrap.  I was at this grading job that had catered lunch.   Many sections of wrap, trying to find the vegetarian ones, others' confusions about what constitutes vegetarian, meat ones in the wrong spot, stupid caterers who didn't get the importance.  I thought wraps were a sad misuse of a tortilla. 

With time, I've come to accept wraps as a thing, but I'd rather have tortillas warm and soft, enclosing something warm and soft also.  Tortillas are a good food.

I've tried making wraps on days I was out of bread, not sure I ever got it right, not sure if my partial failure was user error or if wraps just aren't that good.

As for rapping, I used to want to be a rapper.  In my mind, it was related to being a graffiti artist.  I thought I could do it, as a poet.  But it's not a skill of mine. 

I wanted to go by MC Dairy Queen, not because I like Dairy Queen fast food restaurants, but because I loved milk, cheese, butter, and ice cream at the time.  I thought it would be funny--a brown cow with big teats and a crooked crown.

So what if I can’t spell Armageddon?  It’s not the end of the world.

daily paratha

In Gilroy is a Pakistani food truck parked behind a hospice.  I'm thinking Daily Paratha is a pun?  Paratha is a kind of bread, so like "give us this day our daily bread." 

The vegetarian choices were few, so we ended up getting all the vegetarian stuff, which included samosas, onion rings, and fries.  Didn't realize no protein and all the friedness would be a bad idea for our nutrition and tummies.  We ordered a nutella paratha for dessert which we did not receive with our order.

So I guess it's 10 out of 10 for weirdness of location and name pun.  Never went to a hospice for a meal before!  But food was only like 3 out of 10 for vegetarians and poor accuracy.  Don't think we'll be back.

how I've been feeling

confused
under-respected
fed up
funny
creative
warm
appreciative
critical
overly sensitive
irritable
sleepless
doomed
worried
insightful

too much is just right

I love cana lilies.  I usually see red ones.  I used to think they were too much.  Now I think too much is just right.  These are gorgeous orange ones by the lotus pond this morning at the Sacramento ashram.

I overdid socialness and need to hide for a week.  Today at a gas station I had a giggle fit.  I laughed until I cried.  I wanted to blog about it.  I told Ming, I'm so sleep deprived that for me, it's always the middle of the night.

Selfie-ing with friends in Fresno.

With relatives in Armona.  Life seems way too fragile.  Death seems like a problem everyone's ignoring.  But I heard it's not a problem, more just the other side of life.  Sure feels like a problem to me.

I realized next time I devise a trip, I need to make an itinerary then cross off half the plans.  Maybe cross off all the plans.  Ming got to see his kids and mom, and that's the most important thing.

kittens are the opiate of the masses

I'm at a starbux in Sacramento near where I used to live, but I never much came here.

Ming is getting a car wash and Iraqi bread.  The windshield was getting hard for him to see through.  I have some special bumper stickers I want to apply on the minivan.  I've accumulated them for a long time.

I feel like I'm moving at a strange speed.  Very slow or very fast.  Nearly stopped or full-speed.

Not sure what's the anemia, sleep deprivation, middle age, standard craziness, med error, mood stuff, some unknown health issue that should be worrying me.  It's confusing.

There's tired, really tired, so tired I think I will slip into another dimension, fall over tired, faint tired, look around to see a good landing place in case I really faint this time tired.  You gotta be kidding me tired.  No one knows what I mean when I say I'm tired tired.

I love Earth and it will always be my planet, but I find myself lately wishing there were other options.  I thought backpacking would be a way to mostly escape the things that are most driving me crazy--advertising, interpersonal bs, everyday cruelty, bureaucracy, capitalism, misunderstandings.  But I don't like to shit in the woods, and probably most of what I don't like about the world, I'm carrying around in my own head.  You can't take a vacation from yourself.

I guess that's why a lot of people use drugs.  There are lots of different kinds.  Not sure what's real life and what's escapism.  When does something stop being a valid life activity and become a way to numb yourself.  And is numbing yourself really not valid?  Is a certain amount ok?  What's the validity cap on self-medication?  Half hour per day?  And why would involving a doctor and pharmaceutical company make it more ok?  Or tv, alcohol, gambling, movies, kittens.

Lots of questions lately, and they don't seem to be helping.  Some moments this experiment is ok, and other times I'd like to give up.  Love to all the people who are giving up and not giving up.

edgy double trilobite Ming and the humid hotel room

We're at a hotel in Morgan Hill, one step up from our usual cheap ass hotel.  The room is small but clean, and the bed is comfy. 

I was up in the night, of course, and I saw a weird spider walking around at 2am--big roundish body like a black widow, but light brown.  Long, thin legs.  It creeped me out.  I was worried it somehow was a black widow missing some pigment. 

Ming tried to catch it.  "Don't let it bite you!" I said.  He flushed it down the toilet.  Sorry, God's creature.

There's no bathroom fan.  The room feels very humid from Ming's long shower. 

We have a full day planned, and I'm worried I'll lose my strength and need a rest but nowhere to retreat to: Hotel breakfast, I go to a library while Ming visits with his mom, picking up books at someone's house in Oakland, lunch at my favorite place, visiting a zine friend at her bakery, then Ming sees one of his kids while I sit at a cafe somewhere, writing.  Then on to Sacramento.

Even on a good day, this would be incredible, but I don't have all my strength.  I asked Ming if he thought I'd still be anemic, five months after being released from the hospital.  He said he thought it'd take three.

"My throat hurts," I said.  "I wine a lot, for someone who doesn't drink."

Ming's going to wear his trilobite necklace with a trilobite teeshirt.  "How edgy!" I said.

"That's how I like to be perceived," he said.  I was giving him fashion advice since he's seeing his relatives and wants to impress them.

feelings of humans and kittens, true love, what's real

My mom and I were driving by the Orthodox church where Ming was visiting for a service and coffee hour.  He wanted to see the icons, since he paints them now.

As Mom and I passed by, my heart ached a little because I wished I could stop by and say hi.  I realized I still have a crush on Ming.

Not sure what a crush is, but I think it's that.  I'm in love with him also.  Being in love seems like something to base your life on, while a crush is an excited feeling that can pass.

The other day I was thinking that being in love is the crush feeling combined with something more centered and more of a mature decisiony profound connected contentedness with someone.   What do you think?  Not sure what it is.  A heart-connection, a sacred trustworthy happy bond that feels important and will hopefully last.

But I know it can change into other things, other kinds of love.  There's also the idea that you could think you were in love and decide afterward it was all false.  You were under a spell because everything wasn't what you thought it was--the feelings were not based on reality.

When I visited my best friend, we watched her baby play.  She asked, "Is there anything special you wanted to talk about?"

I said, "Yeah, I've been wondering lately--what is the self?  Kind of a teenager question, maybe..."  I remember being a teenager, long ago, wrestling with questions like that all the time.

My best therapist told me there is no self--she was some kind of Buddhist.  I experience a self, though. 

I was wondering if my feelings during an extreme state were real.  What's a real feeling, anyway?  What's a feeling at all? 

My bestie said all feelings are real--it's just a matter of what to do with them, whether to use them to guide behavior.  I'm not sure I agree.  I could have a feeling and realize afterward how off-base I had been, and if I was out of my mind, I want to dismiss the feeling.

Growing up I heard a lot of "it's not him--it's the alcohol" and "but I know the real him."  I got in my head the idea that there are real selves and false selves, as well as stuff about responsibility that I don't agree with but heard a lot.

I remember in the third or fourth grade, sitting in class, thinking how my self felt like a glowing ember inside me.  Deep in my chest, glowing red, untouchable and beautiful and good.  Nothing could change it.  I've felt that for a long time.

Ming says the self may be all we see, think, do, experience.   I said that stuff can be random and incidental--the self is way more meaningful.

Today we leave the undisclosed location and head north to other lands.

There have been times in my life when I needed a small world to keep me safe.  On campus at UCSB, I didn't walk around everywhere--the few places I went were enough.  College of Creative Studies, the secret smoking spot nearby, the art building where I liked to eat my lunch, the little store in the UCen where I bought candy.  The bus circle--a path from the bus circle to the College of Creative Studies.  Huge part of campus, I never visited. 

My bestie had an art symposium she went to for a while, which was on the other side of campus near the eternal flame.  It was good to go there.  It was like every place I went was so important to me, and I could only let so much in.

Nowadays, the world is much bigger.  I need a big world for my mind to gather what it needs, the ideas and newness--people, food, experiences, so much life to fuel the connections I make and what I write.

Gatito is crying--she wants out of my brother's bedroom and tears at the carpet under the door with her sharp little claws.  She wants a big world with so much room to run and everything to attack, all the birds.

better

"She doesn't think avocados are food," Mom said.  Gatito was sniffing Mom's breakfast avocado.  "Oh, she licked it."

I thought--Gatito licked my hand also.  "What about you?"  I asked.

"What?"

"Do you think avocados are food?"

"Definitely," Mom answered.

"Not me,"  I said.  "I think they're better than food."  I was slicing a Gilcrease tomato to make tomato toast to go with my avocado toast.

Then Ming came to protect me as I ate.  The kitten has some stealthy attacks.  Earlier she stepped in my yogurt.  But it was mostly just the fruit part on the bottom.  I don't usually eat that anyway.

fancy lotion, muffin Mom, exotic waffles

We were at a restaurant, and Ming was eating a waffle.  It had a clump of butter on it, and a thing of syrup on the side.  "I wanna try your waffle," I told him. Wow, it was delicious.  "Do you know how old I was when I had my first waffle?"

I'm thinking I was a teenager.  The family of my first husband had a waffle maker.  Waffles were an amazing, exotic thing.  They still seem pretty exotic and extravagant.

A new friend gave me some fancy lotion for Christmas.  It was grapefruit-scented.  The small lotion thing had pretty flowers on it and a black angular lid.  I thought it was too fancy for me and I shouldn't have it or deserve it--I thought I should give it to someone else who could appreciate it better.

Then I changed my mind and loved its grapefruit scent, and it taught me some kind of lesson that I don't need to go bougie but a nice lotion is not wasted on me.  My skin is dry--I live in the desert.  Why not.

That's how I feel about waffles too.  Well, I'm at the beginning stage.  They seem too good for me.

I was working on the new vegan cookzine in the middle of the night, wrote a recipe and the intro, a essay about breakfast, and something about eating while disabled.  Felt good but how could I have this many zines going.  Dang.

Mom was talking about making pancakes.  I said pancakes are waffles' awkward little sister.  But maybe we'll make banana peach muffins.   She's a muffin maker--we'll see.

Gatito, Ming & me, eucalyptus dreams

Gatito vs Ming's phone.

Fun with art.

By the lagoon I never decided about.  Wanted to put a eucalyptus seed and leaf in my pouch, but Mom is allergic.

library tourism, mental health consulting, lagoon feelings

Ming and I are really into libraries.  I love the one in Boulder, Colorado.  Wow. 

And we went to one in Reno that has a little creek in it and tons of plants.  "How do the books feel about that?" I asked Ming, who didn't know.

Half-forgotten libraries in half-forgotten towns on long road trips.  The one in Bakersfield where I wrote letters while Ming went to a comics convention.

The huge gorgeous one in Salt Lake City I would like to return to.

We went to a fancy, new-seeming library in Arvin.  It opened at 10am, and several of us were in the parking lot waiting for it to open.  The librarian looked at us weird as we went to the kids' part. "Oh, this is the kids' part," I said, and we found the adult part.

They had bookmarks, brochures, and fliers from, hmm, what would you call them.  Suicide prevention, eat more fruit nutrition stuff, something about exercise in Spanish and English.  Glossy non-profits or government agencies who have a budget for printing information / propaganda like that.  I read the fruit one.  I took a suicide prevention bookmark, not sure why.

Some people think I know stuff about mental health since I started a radical mental health collective or two, and they want to consult with me.  That's ok--I think I kind of do know stuff.  I've been working on it.

Don't sacrifice yourself for another person.  They might not know they're drowning and will take you down with them, or almost.  You can't do it alone.  Get a team and take shifts.  Ask for help, tell the truth as much as you can, reach out.  Did something work before, you can try again?  Is there someone you can call who's idealized or could help magically?  What do you need?  Is there anything I can do from here?

"I lived here for four years, more than four years, and never figured out how I felt about this lagoon," I told Ming as we sat on a bench by the art building.  It has a special smell.  I love it / I hate it.  "How many dead bodies do you think are in there?" I asked.

"Five," he said.

"From how long?" I asked.

"Time immemorial," he said. 

"That sounds about right," I said.  I thought about murders, drownings.  When I was a kid, at the beach, I was always afraid of finding a dead body in the kelp.  Well, that's enough for now.

fungal activism, Gatito, loss

"I believe eating magic mushrooms might have been what caused apes to become humans," I told Ming.  We were talking about radical mycology.  What is it?

"Oh," Ming said.

"Didn't you ever read Terence McKenna?" I asked.

"No," he said.

"Yeah, like the apes ate magic mushrooms and that helped them get language.  They saw things in a new way."

"Well, why don't we feed mushrooms to apes now?" Ming asked.

"What?" I asked.

"Give mushrooms to apes now, so they turn into humans."

"Go ahead!" I said.  "Something tells me they're not going to like that at the zoo.  Pity the zookeeper!"

We laughed.  "I really don't understand evolution," I said.  "But I guess we could give magic mushrooms to all the animals.  We could get bat-humans, bird-humans.  Horse-humans.  Ugh.  Glad it's not night.  This could give me nightmares."

We were in Tehachapi headed to Steampunk Cafe for breakfast.  "I love mushrooms," I said.  "I could become a fungal activist.  I think it's cool they're their own thing.  A lot of people think they're vegetables."

"A lot of people talk with the mushroom god when they take mushrooms," I said.  "That would be cool," I said.  "I would talk with the mushroom god, or listen to her.  But I'm already crazy enough.  Don't need to be more crazy."

I reminded him I went through a phase of watching Terence McKenna videos on youtube--people had taken clips from interviews and assembled then into hour and a half long things.

"My favorite quote of his is something like, Nature is speaking to us--this is not a metaphor."  I ordered a mushroom provolone omelet.  It was filled with a ton of mushrooms, so delicious.

I don't like personality cults.  I do love people, but worshipping Buddha (who specifically said not to worship him) or Terence McKenna or anyone seems like a painful thing.  I've been there.  Those days are over, I hope.

Gatito was crying her cute little cry in my brother's room, and my mom let her out.  Last night she was attacking my pen, nipping me, and jumped on my back, which scared the crap out of me.  I yelled for Ming to help me, but he was afraid she would dig her claws deeper into me, if he tried to remove her. 

She's so soft, little, and seems impossibly light.  She weighs nothing at all.  Very pretty but overwhelming to me as I was trying to finish an important letter.

I feel skeptical about letting another being into my heart.  Seems inevitable.  I don't want pets for a lot of reasons.  Lately I see death everywhere.  Why do anything.  Loss is destroying me. 

I make friends with people who have kids, and it feels like dangerous territory because I've done it before, losing the friend so losing the kids who I loved just as deeply.

My friend has a four year old who says my name wonderfully.  Other kids don't even try or garble it.  This kid is amazing.  He sees death everywhere too.  Ming said at vacation bible school they were talking about hotels, one day, the kid saw death in every room.  Not sure why--one of their dogs died, but it was a while ago.

strobe light

I went to bed and fell asleep nicely.  Then woke up at 1am with pain from my pinched nerve.  It's not so bad like anguish but bad enough that I can't sleep.  When it's worse than this, I do sometimes cry, a combination of pain and frustration.

It's been seven years.  I had no place to live, at the time.  Some would call that homeless, and we did sleep outside a few times, but it was more camping.  Ming's friend's house in Rio Linda was in foreclosure.  We slept there for a week or so on the hardwood floor on yoga mats.  Oops.  That's when it started.

The pain comes and goes, but the numbness in my right arm and hand is constant.  It's in my pinky finger and the right half of my ring finger, a certain nerve, can't remember its name.

The MRI showed the nerves in my neck on both sides are too big for the holes they pass through.  My left one doesn't hurt.  My dad had the same thing.  They told me surgery--I said no way.  I used to take naproxen or ibuprofen--nothing helped.  I tried benadryl to help me sleep through the pain--it just made me really drowsy and in pain.

Lately I feel like we've all been dealt our unique set of health problems that don't necessarily have anything to do with our behaviors.  I'm crazy, have a pinched nerve, and now a stomach ulcer.  I think my anemia from the ulcer will be healed soon.  Ming's crazy, has narcolepsy, and now an eye problem.  It got somewhat better and now seems somewhat worse.

People try so hard to be healthy.  I weigh many pounds, but none of my health problems is caused by the heaviness.  My grandpa had an ulcer also, and he was thin as a rail.  My friend has a pinched nerve like mine, causing pain, and he's skinny also.

A friend has arthritis and degenerative discs and is in a ton of pain, and she's young.  It seems unfair, but then I realized I didn't do anything bad to cause my crazy, pinched nerve, or ulcer.  Ming also didn't behave badly and then get crazy, narcolepsy, and an eye problem as punishment.  People seem to believe if you do the right things, you'll be healthy, but I see lots of evidence to the contrary.

I read about someone exercising on her treadmill and she dropped dead--turns out she had a heart thing no one knew about, something she was born with.  People bewailed the tragedy--she was young and had kids and had worked hard to be healthy.   I feel like people were saying, Oh, how unfair--she was thin!  This shouldn't have happened to her!

People make assumptions about my diet based on my weight--like I go to McDonalds all the time and eat a lot of bacon.  I haven't had bacon since 1993?  My mom used to put it in her rice--she would make enchiladas, beans, and rice for my birthday, and she stopped putting the bacon in, for me.  Thank you, Mama.

The lights in this motel are weird.  I put on my dress and noticed a strobe effect, that the light is actually turning off and on however many times a second.  Who makes lights like that?

better

I almost entirely lost my sense of smell in the hospital.  Now it's almost entirely back.

twameva

Ming cries when he hears my outgoing voicemail message, a prayer song.  I asked him why.  He was crying not even knowing what it means--it's in Sanskrit.  I told him the translation and he cried again.

twameva mataa cha pita twameva.
twameva bandush cha sakha twameva.
twameva vidya dravinam twameva.
twameva sarvam mama deva deva.

Thou art to me, oh Lord, the affectionate mother, 
constantly looking to my well being.
Thou art to me, oh Lord, the compassionate father, 
whose care and counsel always guide and sustain me.
Thou art the faithful friend, 
ever standing by me in trials and temptations.
And the loving companion to share my joys and sufferings.
Thou art my wisdom, my wealth—
nay, thou art my all in all, oh Lord supreme.

middle age, dune buggy fumes, angular grasshopper, another earthquake

Last night we took our friend to dinner--our friend is moving away.  We went to Chef Kenny's and had an amazing vegan meal.  So many flavors.  It was fun though I was quiet with sleep deprivation.  Waking up at 2:30am unable to go back to sleep is becoming sadly normal for me.

Our friend told us about being designated driver for a rave the night before, but when they tried to drive away, the van wouldn't start.  So the van was still out in the desert.  I offered that Ming and I have AAA, so we could use one of our tows to get the van to our friend's home.

Our friend's dad went out with his brother to try to get the van started with a jump, not trusting that they had already tried that.  When Ming and friend and I got to the location, the dad and uncle had left.  It was north past the speedway.

The sun was going down.  Ming was on the phone with AAA.  The light was beautiful.  I wanted to take a picture but was too shy to ask.  Sunset was glowy.  I felt glad to be out in the desert, living life.

People who like dune buggies were arriving and unloading their dune buggies from trailers.  They played loud music and kicked up dust.

Then I saw a huge grasshopper, big like a lizard.  As our friend moved the grasshopper away to some bushes, I was leaning against our minivan when Ming and I noticed both vans were moving around like crazy.  I thought it was wind at first, but then I realized there was no strong wind.  "Is this another earthquake?" I asked Ming.  My phone started beeping a lot as my mom and a friend in Fresno txted me about feeling the earthquake.

Our friend missed it, walking in the desert, trying to help the huge grasshopper.  That was the third earthquake I'd felt in two days, and Mom said it was a 7.1.  I felt scared.  "What if the earthquakes keep getting coming and getting worse?" I asked, thinking of The Big One, lots of Big Ones, the end of the world.  Ming and our friend seemed not to share my fear.

It got dark.  I was out of water and so tired.  Our friend and Ming used star apps to identify stars.  One near the moon was Regulus, and I remembered Sufjan Stevens has a song mentioning Regulus.  A strange Christmas song.

Finally the tow truck arrived.  Out came two workers, the owner and someone who seemed new and just learning.  The older one explained about three relays on a Honda minivan, and if it's hot a relay can burn out so the different relays don't communicate with one another?  He said he could reset it.  I told him it had happened the night before, and it hadn't been hot.

They worked on the minivan a while, trying to get it started, and some attempts were made--it wouldn't start.  I got impatient after a while and got out of the short bus to ask what was going on.  The owner had convinced our friend to get the minivan towed to his shop for repairs.  It felt odd to me because I didn't want our friend to be taken advantage of--originally they had wanted the minivan towed to their home.

So the arrangements were made.  We drove away.  Then our friend talked to their dad on the phone.   There was a lot of "si, pero Papa..."  Eventually we turned around and our friend told the tow truck driver to take the minivan to our friend's home, not to the shop.  The dad seemed to think like me--don't let the tow truck driver make more money off you.  Our friend is still in that family and it seemed they made money decisions together.

It was past my bedtime when we dropped off our friend.  I wanted to hug, but our friend jumped out and our goodnight was rushed.  Ming was getting too sleepy and drank an energy drink.  I felt we got a lot of points for that adventure.  But our friend is going to Iowa.

I had been thinking for hours about an article I saw on facebook about menopause.  Someone I respect and admire posted it, and so I read it, and I was shocked at how it was TERFy, speaking like all women are the same and have the same experiences and parts, and weird about hormones.  It was saying how women who have menopause become like wise owls who see clearly without the confusion of hormones.

I felt hurt because--hormones are not the enemy.  I feel so tired of women not being trusted for having feelings and hormones and sexual desires.  I felt like they were discrediting the tons of women in the world who have them.

I remember when I was a kid, boys saying a woman couldn't be president because she would push the button and nuke some country while she was "on the rag." They laughed at the ridiculous idea of a woman having power.

When I was a kid, I believed that as a woman I was less rational, and that made me less smart.  I still hear people say, "We need to rely on reason, not feelings."  Even adults are scared of feelings, like feelings have betrayed them.

I think, feelings give us information, and there's nothing wrong or untrustworthy about them.  They can change, but thoughts can too.  People seem to believe thoughts come from a brain, which is ok, and feelings come from the body, which is an unreliable fickle bad thing.

Well, fuck all that.  I'm going to feel all the feelings, and there's nothing wrong with me.

The dune buggies made bad fumes.  I said it seemed dangerous, when it was dark, and the little kids should have light jackets.  I'm not an entrepreneur, but I had a three second fantasy, imagining a light jacket business, keeping dune buggy kids safe.  I was afraid a little kid would be unseen and get run over.

I don't see the appeal.  But a lot is like that.  Most people like movies, tv, games, thrilling stuff like dune buggies.  I guess I'm anti-entertainment, which makes me a stick in the mud.

This morning I was crying about all that and more--women being untrusted, my friend leaving, no hugs, getting old.  I'll have menopause soon.

Aging is a thing most people are blessed to do.  "Inside every 80 year old is an 18 year old wondering what happened."  I'm ok with middle age, but it's new, for me.