with mom's birthday (april 2th) and mother's day (whenever that was - last sunday?) coming so fast, i've been thinking more than usual about mom.
in a way, mother's day wasn't any more difficult than any day is, being without mom. i mean, it's not like i forget that she's gone and then i had to remember on mother's day.
but, in another way, it is more difficult, because everyone else kinda remembers that i might be having a hard time and asks me, in the pointed loving way that people do, how i'm doing about it. i have no feelings of anger or upset, and it's totally not their fault, and the thought is deeply appreciated, but i can manage my own levels of thought and feeling about missing her, and having everyone else's increased interest in it makes it a little more stressful, and harder to put aside.
i'm dealing with allen a lot more, and selling mom's house. have i already talked about this? i'm selling the house. i'm amping up the removal of all artifacts, in preparation for putting the house on the market this summer. august 1st is my goal. it's a reasonable and totally achievable goal. but me selling the house means i am in closer communication with allen that i was for a while, and it means that all the simmering resentment and discomfort i feel towards him is back on the front burner - or, to stay consistent with the cooking metaphor, heated from a simmer to a rolling boil.
thus far, i have taken an entirely appeasement-based tack for dealing with him. i have capitulated on basically every point, for a number of reasons, which are overlapping, but can be articulated thusly:
1) i'm scared of him and don't want to antagonize him.
2) i was exhausted from dealing with him and things being so unpleasant while mom was dying and i just wanted a break from the insanity
3) i am deeply uncomfortable with the probability of him going bat-shit and things being completely out of control bad with him, and my aversion to that keeps me from being unyielding in my patrolling of my boundaries with him.
4) i have no experience with someone who is really, seriously mentally unbalanced, and whose behavior is so erratic. my brain flinches away from unleashing the full force of his craziness, and so far it has been more important to me to keep him mostly under control, and eat shit, than it has been to just say what i need to and risk the lid on his jar of CRAZY flying off and getting totally lost.
in talking with my dad and linda (and lillon - hearts, lon!) they said, and i certainly knew but needed to hear again, that there is a spectrum of possible responses he might have to any situation, and it's best to be prepared for them all. (they have a certain amount of experience in dealing with a crazy person.)
so, i know i need/want allen out of the house before we put it on the market. i know it's possible to sell a house with the previous owners/tenants still living in it, but i don't want to do that, for a lot of reasons that are solid, but mostly just because i don't want to. that means i need allen out by august 1st. i am afraid to tell him he needs to leave. i was hoping to throw the real estate under the proverbial bus and make her explain to him the importance of the house being empty, but she seems resistant to that (damn!) then i had this idea of having a group talk about the plan, with allen and my dad and shannon and me and maybe my real estate agent, ostensibly to chart the course, but really so we could gang up on allen and overpower his resistance to leaving. but that's another way for me to avoid taking responsibility for the situation, and the situation is this:
i want allen out of the house by august 1st, because i day so, and that is enough of a reason to ask for it.
i floated the idea when shannon and i were up this weekend, and allen just said, flat out, absolutely not possible. he says he's not going to be able to afford to find a new place to live until he gets his share of the money from the sale, which is fucking preposterous and totally understandable at the same time. that's like saying you can't afford to pay the deposit on your new apartment until you get the deposit from your OLD apartment back, which happens all the time, cause a lot of people don't have an extra thousands hanging around, but is also kinda tough shit. yeah, that sucks. been there. also, not my problem.
so, i predict when i have the conversation with him, which i will do in the beginning of june, with my dad and shannon there, he's going to resist and say 'no way' again. i just need to be firm.
'allen, i hear that that is going to be difficult for you, and i really feel for you, AND you need to make it happen.'
and yet, as i plan to have this bowel-looseningly terrifying conversation with him, i find myself already feeling like a total asshole. i mean, what the hell kind of person says 'tough shit' and offers to alternate deal or help? that seems really insensitive.
i know.
he should have thought about that before he tried to strangle me on my birthday. if he was planning on appealing to me soft heart, that might have been an action to avoid.
but still. i feel like that is almost insupportably harsh.
because, really, we are capable of selling the house with him in it. we are. it'll be scarier, since he's a fucking wingnut and might get upset for no reason and chase the prospective buyers off te property with a bow and arrow (won't be his first time), but it is possible.
am i so conditioned to give in to him that i am unable to defend my right to stand up?
or, am i going overboard to say he needs to go and i don't care if it's tough for him?
i seriously have no idea.
i know that i have erred far onto the side of over-giving with him, i have not even remotely stood up for myself, never defended my boundaries, and i've created a situation in which he believes he can say anything, ask for anything, do anything he wants, with minimal, if any, resistance from me.
want me to help you pay for pet food?
sure!
want to deduct a portion of your materials expenses and taxes from the money you give me in lieu of rent?
sure!
want to carry on with the deluded belief that maintaining the property is of equal financial value as paying me some real human american dollars?
sure!
no resistance from me!
i hemorrhage money, spending the bulk of my inheritance on housing costs, bills, etc. so he doesn't have to pay me rent, and then he accuses me of financial mismanagement, suggesting i am not mature enough to manage my money alone or make decisions by myself.
and still, i really feel like maybe kicking him out, or rather, giving him 60 days notice, no ifs ands or buts, is maybe not fair.
and i really genuinely have no idea whether or not that's accurate.
i'm just tired of him.
i'm tired of thinking about him, telling stories to explain how difficult he is to deal with, worrying about his feelings and his future, worrying that i'll never be free of him, letting him talk to me like i'm an idiot, hearing him marvel that i could have 'lost' so much money in such a short period of time and then having to explain to him that, while it's none of his business what i do with my inheritance, it wasn't LOST, it was spend on bills... i'm sick to death of him. i'm just over it. over him hanging off my back like an over-sized baby monkey.
bottom line, i just want him fucking GONE.
in some ways, it would be nice if things did go totally ape-shit with him, like i had to call the cops to have him removed, just so i could get over avoiding it. i mean, at least the worst would happen and i could stop fearing for it and just deal with it.
but really i just so want it to go smoothly. i just want him to understand, to say okay, and just move out. that's probably not really realistic, but it's what i want.
i'm in new york right now, visiting lu.
it's been really nice taking a break from home, from the stress of allen and yumi and money and everything and just enjoying time with her.
her neighborhood is magical.
i'm in a local cafe, with free internet access, readily available power outlets.
i ordered a tasty-sounding sammie, and it came with a truly excessive amount of groders yellow mustard and mayo, which you know i would have asked to have off if i'd known.
so, i tried to be easy going and wipe it off, but it was a lost cause and i got too grossed out, so i had to take it back to the counter to have them re-do it.
they were nice about it, and re-did it, but the new version how is dripping this honey mustard stuff, which is nice, since it's what the menu said was going to be on it, but is over the top in its proportions. like, gooing out of the bread's pores.
what's up, cafe staff? why so much condiment?
however, on this visit to lu, i have found myself really resistant to talking about what's going on with me, when talking to people who don't already know all about it. not because i'm embarrassed or something. mostly because i'm so bored by the subject. i think about it constantly, talk it through with my friends, cry about it, go to therapy and talk it through - i'm just sick of my stories right now. i don't feel like i have anything interesting or exciting or funny to share. i must have left my vivacity at home or something. i think i'm feeling a little quiet and protective of myself again, and i really only want to talk to my friends. it's weird and not like me, but it's where i am.
i think maybe i am going through a new stage of grieving. it's totally not the only thing i think of anymore. it's not The Thing on my mind. but it's more prominent now than it has been recently, and i back to feeling like nothing will ever be normal again because she's gone and i can't imagine that ever feeling normal. i mean, not good or acceptable, because it'll obviously never be those things, but it feels again like it's almost not manageable again. like anything good that might happen will happen in the shade of this sadness.
oh good.
now i've brought my 'crying in public places' tour to fort greene, brooklyn.
what a treat.
the weather right now is of a type we just don't really get in the bay area. it's overcast, with a slight breeze, and warm. not hot, necessarily, but warm enough for people to be wearing short sleeves. i am enjoying it. this is one of my favorite types of weather.
but not really.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Thursday, May 1, 2008
a quick question...
does anyone know anything about adsense?
it's always offered on blogs, and it says you can make money from your blog, according to the number of people clicking on the ads that google puts in the margins of your blog.
it seems like something like that would only be useful for people with tons of traffic on their blogs. my own meager traffic would probably not be worth it.
does anyone know more about it than me?
and is the idea of allowing ads on my blog gross?
am i thinking about selling out??!
it's always offered on blogs, and it says you can make money from your blog, according to the number of people clicking on the ads that google puts in the margins of your blog.
it seems like something like that would only be useful for people with tons of traffic on their blogs. my own meager traffic would probably not be worth it.
does anyone know more about it than me?
and is the idea of allowing ads on my blog gross?
am i thinking about selling out??!
body acceptance.
while researching magazines and their submission requirements, i came across the magazine bitch, which i don't read usually. it's a feminist magazine, calls itself a feminist response to pop culture. i was poking around the website and i read a couple of the articles. both of them were interesting. i mean, not pulitzer prize winning, but addressing interesting topics.
one of the articles, about the fat acceptance movement and how it (allegedly) shuns members with eating disorders, was especially thought-provoking. it made me think a lot about my own prejudices about weight. the comments the come after the articles itself were pretty interesting, too. the entire idea of a fat acceptance movement really got me thinking.
i totally understand the purpose of the fat acceptance movement. i can't even imagine how hard it must be to be seriously overweight in america. one of the commenters referred to the decapitated 'fatties' who they show on the news all the time when referring to the menace of obesity. those are real people, those decapitated fatties. they're people with feelings, and they're used (against their wills) as examples of morbid obesity, and what were they doing when they were photographed? eating with their families. walking down a street on a sunny day. all the jokes on tv that hinge on someone being really fat (the 'monica in a fat suit' sequences on "friends," for example). all the magazine covers showing some celebrity who lost 30 lbs in 30 days. there's just so much pressure to not be the way you are. even i feel it, and i am nowhere near obese. but even i feel a little twinge over those things, so it must be exponentially more painful if you're the object of all the scorn.
but i do seriously question this idea that being fat is just fine. not because it is a moral failing or because it indicates some sort of moral decay on the overweight person's fault, but because it's not a healthy choice. (we're going to disregard eating disorders for now, while acknowledging that they are a factor some of the time.) i also question how being seriously overweight can be unassociated with some sort of disordered eating behavior, or disordered living choices. not that all overweight people are binge eaters, but that letting one's weight become dramatically overlarge or oversmall is a sign of imbalance, which deserves attention.
i'm trying to think of comparable lifestyle choices. smoking? it's a choice you're making. it's hard to quit. there's a lot of societal mixed messages related to it. a certain (though much lower) degree of social stigma attached. it will probably kill you... but then you think about how quitting smoking is hard for people, but they do it by just not smoking. you can't not eat, totally avoid the substance of choice, so the comparison breaks down. i don't know. i can't think of a good comparison.
i don't know many people who are terribly overweight and feel good about it. i don't know many people who are overweight because they choose to not care about their weight. i know mostly people who struggle with their weight, who struggle with making lifestyle choices that are healthy.
if someone is overweight, should one be supportive of behavior that one thinks is unhealthy? even if the eating isn't the issue, even if not exercising is the issue, isn't it possible to support the person, love them, want them to be healthy and happy, not because being fat is gross or ugly, but because they are hurting themselves? is that healthist?
p.s. i can't even believe there is such a term as 'healthist.' it's true, there is a prevailing agreement in modern culture that being healthy is good and being unhealthy is bad. there are agreed upon (sort of) idea of what is healthy and what isn't. so, how does healthism show up? would encouraging someone to get more exercise be healthism? what about me harassing shannon about putting neosporin on his cut? it's such a weird idea. of course, not so weird that i am going to do research on it and find out more. i think i'll just idly wonder...
one of the articles, about the fat acceptance movement and how it (allegedly) shuns members with eating disorders, was especially thought-provoking. it made me think a lot about my own prejudices about weight. the comments the come after the articles itself were pretty interesting, too. the entire idea of a fat acceptance movement really got me thinking.
i totally understand the purpose of the fat acceptance movement. i can't even imagine how hard it must be to be seriously overweight in america. one of the commenters referred to the decapitated 'fatties' who they show on the news all the time when referring to the menace of obesity. those are real people, those decapitated fatties. they're people with feelings, and they're used (against their wills) as examples of morbid obesity, and what were they doing when they were photographed? eating with their families. walking down a street on a sunny day. all the jokes on tv that hinge on someone being really fat (the 'monica in a fat suit' sequences on "friends," for example). all the magazine covers showing some celebrity who lost 30 lbs in 30 days. there's just so much pressure to not be the way you are. even i feel it, and i am nowhere near obese. but even i feel a little twinge over those things, so it must be exponentially more painful if you're the object of all the scorn.
but i do seriously question this idea that being fat is just fine. not because it is a moral failing or because it indicates some sort of moral decay on the overweight person's fault, but because it's not a healthy choice. (we're going to disregard eating disorders for now, while acknowledging that they are a factor some of the time.) i also question how being seriously overweight can be unassociated with some sort of disordered eating behavior, or disordered living choices. not that all overweight people are binge eaters, but that letting one's weight become dramatically overlarge or oversmall is a sign of imbalance, which deserves attention.
i'm trying to think of comparable lifestyle choices. smoking? it's a choice you're making. it's hard to quit. there's a lot of societal mixed messages related to it. a certain (though much lower) degree of social stigma attached. it will probably kill you... but then you think about how quitting smoking is hard for people, but they do it by just not smoking. you can't not eat, totally avoid the substance of choice, so the comparison breaks down. i don't know. i can't think of a good comparison.
i don't know many people who are terribly overweight and feel good about it. i don't know many people who are overweight because they choose to not care about their weight. i know mostly people who struggle with their weight, who struggle with making lifestyle choices that are healthy.
if someone is overweight, should one be supportive of behavior that one thinks is unhealthy? even if the eating isn't the issue, even if not exercising is the issue, isn't it possible to support the person, love them, want them to be healthy and happy, not because being fat is gross or ugly, but because they are hurting themselves? is that healthist?
p.s. i can't even believe there is such a term as 'healthist.' it's true, there is a prevailing agreement in modern culture that being healthy is good and being unhealthy is bad. there are agreed upon (sort of) idea of what is healthy and what isn't. so, how does healthism show up? would encouraging someone to get more exercise be healthism? what about me harassing shannon about putting neosporin on his cut? it's such a weird idea. of course, not so weird that i am going to do research on it and find out more. i think i'll just idly wonder...
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
april 24th.
tomorrow is my mom's birthday.
i'm feeling sad about it.
this is her first birthday that she hasn't been alive for.
also, her birthday last year was a fucked day for me. i got really, really upset at her and yelled at her and she just kinda accepted it. like so many times last year, she agreed with me and told me i was right and she needed to hear that stuff, which wasn't what i wanted.
anyway, the birthday is bringing up a lot of emotions for me.
i'm just really missing her, i guess.
i'm feeling sad about it.
this is her first birthday that she hasn't been alive for.
also, her birthday last year was a fucked day for me. i got really, really upset at her and yelled at her and she just kinda accepted it. like so many times last year, she agreed with me and told me i was right and she needed to hear that stuff, which wasn't what i wanted.
anyway, the birthday is bringing up a lot of emotions for me.
i'm just really missing her, i guess.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
not enough time.
hi!
it's been a while!
i've been thinking about you, but i've been pretty busy.
i don't even have time now to explain what i've been busy with, and if i did, you'd be underwhelmed, but i'm feeling pretty good and happy, so that's cool.
i have some exciting things brewing, also some scary things, and my life is feeling like an armload of stuff that i'm just barely carrying successfully, with the occasional dropped sock, and intermittent panicking over fumbling it all.
i'll update more this week, promise, but i had to add this link in, because it is one of the most impressive things i've seen in a while. especially geared towards those of you who enjoy both film AND shakespeare. (seth? austin? maybe lu? shaye? tab?) other people might not get the joke, but for those of you who do, it's gonna blow your mind.
J: Speak 'What' again! Thou cur, cry 'What' again!
this guy is a freakin' genius. there's another version later on, in the comments.
i had forgotten how full of magic metafilter is. wowzers.
it's been a while!
i've been thinking about you, but i've been pretty busy.
i don't even have time now to explain what i've been busy with, and if i did, you'd be underwhelmed, but i'm feeling pretty good and happy, so that's cool.
i have some exciting things brewing, also some scary things, and my life is feeling like an armload of stuff that i'm just barely carrying successfully, with the occasional dropped sock, and intermittent panicking over fumbling it all.
i'll update more this week, promise, but i had to add this link in, because it is one of the most impressive things i've seen in a while. especially geared towards those of you who enjoy both film AND shakespeare. (seth? austin? maybe lu? shaye? tab?) other people might not get the joke, but for those of you who do, it's gonna blow your mind.
J: Speak 'What' again! Thou cur, cry 'What' again!
this guy is a freakin' genius. there's another version later on, in the comments.
i had forgotten how full of magic metafilter is. wowzers.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
better than i thought.
i went up to redwood valley yesterday with tab, for the first time since before christmas.
i know i talk/write/complain about this situation all the time, and it probably seems totally solvable from the outside, and it actually is, i'd guess, but it doesn't feel like that most of the time.
it feels like i'm an ox, yoked to a house i am ambivalent about, and an weird old guy who i'm a little bit afraid of.
i've been chewing on the 'what the fuck am i going to do about yumi?' question for MONTHS, mostly in my head and by yakking about it, but with little real action on it. after therapy last time, i felt feeling like i had a really short, pretty manageable list of things i needed to do in order to get the ball rolling on it.
1) call the real estate agent my agent, lisa, recommended to me. this recommended agent is actually the listing agent for yumi when it was sold to mom, so she'll know a lot about it. she'll be able to say whether it's pure folly to try to sell it right now. (is it unrealistic for me to assume she'll be honest? i mean, business must be rough for her right now, so she'd probably inclined to say anything she can to get that place listed...but still...) if it seems like selling it right now is just not smart, she'll maybe know something about how i'd rent it, instead, and how much i could reasonably expect to get in rent for it. that's an easy call, right?
2) get up to yumi to keep moving on going through mom's stuff. it's such a hard, unpleasant task, it is almost impossible to look forward to it, but i can neither sell nor rent it if it's packed to the gills with mom's stuff.
3) have The Talk with allen, where i tell him i can't afford to keep the house with the situation as it stands right now, and unless he's going to pay me more, we'll have to sell, or he'll have to move out of the big house, so we can rent it out. the thought of this talk turns my bowels to water, so i've avoided it. in discussion with everyone in the world, it was agreed that i couldn't possibly have The Talk with him in person, alone, because he's so unpredictable, so i'd either need to bring someone with me or do it over the phone. i felt like the phone might be easier, since i could lay it all out, then get off the phone, so he could think about it, then we could talk when he'd calmed down. but then i also thought that maybe i'd write him a letter, which seems like the ultimate in cowardice, but whatever.
yesterday, i got step 2 rolling, by going to yumi with tab.
linda and i had gotten mom's closet and bathroom cleaned out before christmas, so yesterday we stared on mom's office/bead room.
i'm not going to lie - it was harrowing. everything was covered in dust, from the cat sand that they use in the cat boxes, and also just disuse. there were years worth of magazines, all organized chronologically, in little cardboard holders. we just chucked them all. (duh, recycled, sillies!) me and tab both have a bit of the hoarding gene ourselves, so we resisted the urge to keep them all for collaging, but it was not easy.
i went through the drawers that mom used to hold the first aid stuff and all her beauty products, the extras.
seriously, i found about 20 containers, unopened, of dental floss. roughly 10 toothbrushes. multiple full bottles of hand wash, lotions, shampoos...so much stuff. so, i took what i wanted, grabbed good stuff for lu (don't worry, bestie, we're keeping you in mind.) and then tab looked through them, and we packed everything else up, according to "Someone Might Want This" and "This Is Grody And Needs To Go."
i went through mom's journals, and found an amazing book, like her book of shadows or something. fucking so good. also, a good photo album, seeing pictures of mom and daddy when they were young, just married, it was conceivable that those two people could be in love at some point, but that gets harder and harder to imagine, the older they get, until now, when, if i hadn't seen it first hand, i'd never have believed that they were ever in love.
we found some hoarded art supplies, SO MANY PENS, an entire drawer full of post-its, tons of unused notebooks and hanging files.
we got rid of all her computer games, her home electrolysis kit, (which i would bet money had never been used because wtf? - seriously, how did sharper image make it for so many months after mom died?).
it's sobering to see one's life reduced to the crap your survivors will have to get rid of.
it makes me look at my belongings in a whole new way, like, really? really, kira? do you want to make your loved ones delve into the complexities of your unused stationary hoarding problem?
it's exhausting, and also pretty special, finding unexpected treasures. i found some really personal journal stuff, which i am reluctant to read, but which i know i will. ew to reading about your mom having sex, but still.
we just powered through, didn't stop for lunch because we wanted to get the crap outta there.
so, as we're loading the car with our stuff - stuff to keep, stuff for goodwill, stuff to donate to the local elementary school (boy were they excited!) - allen says he wants to show me some stuff.
he wants to show me his breakdown for the money he'll give me for january to march's woodworking.
last time he sent me a check for a bit over $300, with a breakdown, and i was mildly-to-strongly disturbed by the fact that he took taxes and the cost of his supplies out of my portion, like i should have to pay for those.
so, he did the same thing this time, and i asked him why. he said it was because we were business partners (???) so we had to share the expense.
i said i was not his business partner, i was his landlord, and landlords don't accept less rent because of your expenses.
he wasn't trying to hear that. he was getting a bit upset.
he started telling me how little money he was making for all his hard work, and how he was having money troubles (testify, brother) and he needed to borrow $7k from somewhere to get his teeth done, etc.
so, i rolled the dice, and i explained to him how expensive keeping the house is. i explained property taxes, bills, homeowner's insurance, the home warranty, motherfucking mortgage...not to mention all the expenses attached to settling mom's estate. i told him that mom's money was almost gone.
he got a little bogged down with 'i can't believe you lost $160k that fast' but i corrected him. it wasn't lost, like, oops, it was spent, like, property taxes cost $7k and the second loan on me and shannon's house is killing us so i'll pay it off for $50k. he simmered down. also, as jimmy said, if i had spent it all on coke and hookers, it'd be none of his business because it was my money, but still.
so, he said, well shit. maybe you should think about selling the house.
it was like bells started going off, like i had hit the jackpot on a slot machine, with lights flashing and stuff.
PERFECTION.
basically, he had the talk without me having to do it.
and, it ended on a really good note, with it being a decision we needed to make together, not a huge weight that i'm handling alone.
this talk, which i have spent a cumulative estimated time no less than 2 months of solid worrying on, spread over 6 months, went better than i could have possibly imagined, in my wildest of mental wanderings.
the relief was huge.
then tab and i dropped off the best office supplies to the local school and they were really excited about then.
then i drank my usual celebratory espresso shake and got all cracked out because i hadn't eaten enough.
me and tab kicked the office's ass and had a really, really good day.
i had my real last session with jimmy which was so hot, so hard, so sweaty gross that i teased him about being kinda glad he was leaving. we bro-ed out and i have sunken my friend-hooks into him and will probably not let him go. he's a good one.
i came home and showered and my shower was glorious and i sang in the shower, which i haven't done for a while, and then brian and romi the dog came over and we drank beer and ate a tasty-ass bread salad and got our chat on.
such an amazing day. so wonderful and sad and happy.
it was HOThothot in redwood valley yesterday and the property looks so pretty it could break your heart.
then petaluma was so lovely, open door weather.
i'm missing shannon, who is still in LA.
now, i'm going to go to my writing spot and get my write on, since i barely wrote thursday, didn't write friday. i'll drink some gunpowder tea, i think.
i know i talk/write/complain about this situation all the time, and it probably seems totally solvable from the outside, and it actually is, i'd guess, but it doesn't feel like that most of the time.
it feels like i'm an ox, yoked to a house i am ambivalent about, and an weird old guy who i'm a little bit afraid of.
i've been chewing on the 'what the fuck am i going to do about yumi?' question for MONTHS, mostly in my head and by yakking about it, but with little real action on it. after therapy last time, i felt feeling like i had a really short, pretty manageable list of things i needed to do in order to get the ball rolling on it.
1) call the real estate agent my agent, lisa, recommended to me. this recommended agent is actually the listing agent for yumi when it was sold to mom, so she'll know a lot about it. she'll be able to say whether it's pure folly to try to sell it right now. (is it unrealistic for me to assume she'll be honest? i mean, business must be rough for her right now, so she'd probably inclined to say anything she can to get that place listed...but still...) if it seems like selling it right now is just not smart, she'll maybe know something about how i'd rent it, instead, and how much i could reasonably expect to get in rent for it. that's an easy call, right?
2) get up to yumi to keep moving on going through mom's stuff. it's such a hard, unpleasant task, it is almost impossible to look forward to it, but i can neither sell nor rent it if it's packed to the gills with mom's stuff.
3) have The Talk with allen, where i tell him i can't afford to keep the house with the situation as it stands right now, and unless he's going to pay me more, we'll have to sell, or he'll have to move out of the big house, so we can rent it out. the thought of this talk turns my bowels to water, so i've avoided it. in discussion with everyone in the world, it was agreed that i couldn't possibly have The Talk with him in person, alone, because he's so unpredictable, so i'd either need to bring someone with me or do it over the phone. i felt like the phone might be easier, since i could lay it all out, then get off the phone, so he could think about it, then we could talk when he'd calmed down. but then i also thought that maybe i'd write him a letter, which seems like the ultimate in cowardice, but whatever.
yesterday, i got step 2 rolling, by going to yumi with tab.
linda and i had gotten mom's closet and bathroom cleaned out before christmas, so yesterday we stared on mom's office/bead room.
i'm not going to lie - it was harrowing. everything was covered in dust, from the cat sand that they use in the cat boxes, and also just disuse. there were years worth of magazines, all organized chronologically, in little cardboard holders. we just chucked them all. (duh, recycled, sillies!) me and tab both have a bit of the hoarding gene ourselves, so we resisted the urge to keep them all for collaging, but it was not easy.
i went through the drawers that mom used to hold the first aid stuff and all her beauty products, the extras.
seriously, i found about 20 containers, unopened, of dental floss. roughly 10 toothbrushes. multiple full bottles of hand wash, lotions, shampoos...so much stuff. so, i took what i wanted, grabbed good stuff for lu (don't worry, bestie, we're keeping you in mind.) and then tab looked through them, and we packed everything else up, according to "Someone Might Want This" and "This Is Grody And Needs To Go."
i went through mom's journals, and found an amazing book, like her book of shadows or something. fucking so good. also, a good photo album, seeing pictures of mom and daddy when they were young, just married, it was conceivable that those two people could be in love at some point, but that gets harder and harder to imagine, the older they get, until now, when, if i hadn't seen it first hand, i'd never have believed that they were ever in love.
we found some hoarded art supplies, SO MANY PENS, an entire drawer full of post-its, tons of unused notebooks and hanging files.
we got rid of all her computer games, her home electrolysis kit, (which i would bet money had never been used because wtf? - seriously, how did sharper image make it for so many months after mom died?).
it's sobering to see one's life reduced to the crap your survivors will have to get rid of.
it makes me look at my belongings in a whole new way, like, really? really, kira? do you want to make your loved ones delve into the complexities of your unused stationary hoarding problem?
it's exhausting, and also pretty special, finding unexpected treasures. i found some really personal journal stuff, which i am reluctant to read, but which i know i will. ew to reading about your mom having sex, but still.
we just powered through, didn't stop for lunch because we wanted to get the crap outta there.
so, as we're loading the car with our stuff - stuff to keep, stuff for goodwill, stuff to donate to the local elementary school (boy were they excited!) - allen says he wants to show me some stuff.
he wants to show me his breakdown for the money he'll give me for january to march's woodworking.
last time he sent me a check for a bit over $300, with a breakdown, and i was mildly-to-strongly disturbed by the fact that he took taxes and the cost of his supplies out of my portion, like i should have to pay for those.
so, he did the same thing this time, and i asked him why. he said it was because we were business partners (???) so we had to share the expense.
i said i was not his business partner, i was his landlord, and landlords don't accept less rent because of your expenses.
he wasn't trying to hear that. he was getting a bit upset.
he started telling me how little money he was making for all his hard work, and how he was having money troubles (testify, brother) and he needed to borrow $7k from somewhere to get his teeth done, etc.
so, i rolled the dice, and i explained to him how expensive keeping the house is. i explained property taxes, bills, homeowner's insurance, the home warranty, motherfucking mortgage...not to mention all the expenses attached to settling mom's estate. i told him that mom's money was almost gone.
he got a little bogged down with 'i can't believe you lost $160k that fast' but i corrected him. it wasn't lost, like, oops, it was spent, like, property taxes cost $7k and the second loan on me and shannon's house is killing us so i'll pay it off for $50k. he simmered down. also, as jimmy said, if i had spent it all on coke and hookers, it'd be none of his business because it was my money, but still.
so, he said, well shit. maybe you should think about selling the house.
it was like bells started going off, like i had hit the jackpot on a slot machine, with lights flashing and stuff.
PERFECTION.
basically, he had the talk without me having to do it.
and, it ended on a really good note, with it being a decision we needed to make together, not a huge weight that i'm handling alone.
this talk, which i have spent a cumulative estimated time no less than 2 months of solid worrying on, spread over 6 months, went better than i could have possibly imagined, in my wildest of mental wanderings.
the relief was huge.
then tab and i dropped off the best office supplies to the local school and they were really excited about then.
then i drank my usual celebratory espresso shake and got all cracked out because i hadn't eaten enough.
me and tab kicked the office's ass and had a really, really good day.
i had my real last session with jimmy which was so hot, so hard, so sweaty gross that i teased him about being kinda glad he was leaving. we bro-ed out and i have sunken my friend-hooks into him and will probably not let him go. he's a good one.
i came home and showered and my shower was glorious and i sang in the shower, which i haven't done for a while, and then brian and romi the dog came over and we drank beer and ate a tasty-ass bread salad and got our chat on.
such an amazing day. so wonderful and sad and happy.
it was HOThothot in redwood valley yesterday and the property looks so pretty it could break your heart.
then petaluma was so lovely, open door weather.
i'm missing shannon, who is still in LA.
now, i'm going to go to my writing spot and get my write on, since i barely wrote thursday, didn't write friday. i'll drink some gunpowder tea, i think.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
downer/upper.
things i'm not stoked about:
this is fucking terrible, but not surprising.
things i am stoked about:
-carrots (so good!)
-broccoli (if i had to only eat one vegetable for the rest of my life, it'd be broccoli.)
-trace minerals (shannon is a big believer in these, but i don't really like the way they make the water taste. nonetheless, they're really good for you and they kick canker sores in the pants.)
-the gym (i know, old news, but i have fallen back in love with it.)
-writing (again, yawn, but i am deep in the midst of a passionate love affair with it. hopefully long-term.)
-flip-flops (i used to wear them everyday, and then i backed away from it, but i have been enjoying it being warm enough to wear them again.)
-peter hoeg's new book, 'the quiet girl.' ('smila's sense of snow' is one of my top 5 favorite books, so i was THRILLED when i saw that he had a new one. i'm listening to it on cd and LOVING it. so much so that i am looking forward to reading it the normal way already. there was a sense of restraint and distance in 'smila's' but this one is so much more passionate and funny and warm. i mean, he's danish, so there's still the scandanavian-ness, but not nearly so much.)
-joyce carol oates (am i boring you by talking about her books and her all the time? she's just so amazing. i'm reading 'my heart laid bare' and it's wonderful.)
-frigoverre (in me and shannon's on-going mission to eradicate plastic from our lives, this was a landmark discovery. i fret about plastic food storage and this stuff has a glass base. we've got tons of it and the thrill hasn't worn off yet.)
-making smoothies for breakfast (gina got me started and now i can't stop. i actually did stop for a couple of weeks, but only because we didn't have any food in the fridge. but i went grocery shopping yesterday and came back with organic blueberries and raspberries, some frozen peaches, more rice milk, spinach....i already had some of my favorite rice protein powder and some sprouted raw flax seeds. so, super tastiness this morning.)
-the liam finn album. remember i posted a video of his performance on david letterman and said i'd bought the album? well, it's good.
seriously, though, guys.
please use your hands-free headset with your phone, and even when you're kicking it hands-free, keep your phone somewhere aside from on your person. not to be all preachy, but brain tumors are sons of bitches, and i love you guys and i want you to live.
this is fucking terrible, but not surprising.
things i am stoked about:
-carrots (so good!)
-broccoli (if i had to only eat one vegetable for the rest of my life, it'd be broccoli.)
-trace minerals (shannon is a big believer in these, but i don't really like the way they make the water taste. nonetheless, they're really good for you and they kick canker sores in the pants.)
-the gym (i know, old news, but i have fallen back in love with it.)
-writing (again, yawn, but i am deep in the midst of a passionate love affair with it. hopefully long-term.)
-flip-flops (i used to wear them everyday, and then i backed away from it, but i have been enjoying it being warm enough to wear them again.)
-peter hoeg's new book, 'the quiet girl.' ('smila's sense of snow' is one of my top 5 favorite books, so i was THRILLED when i saw that he had a new one. i'm listening to it on cd and LOVING it. so much so that i am looking forward to reading it the normal way already. there was a sense of restraint and distance in 'smila's' but this one is so much more passionate and funny and warm. i mean, he's danish, so there's still the scandanavian-ness, but not nearly so much.)
-joyce carol oates (am i boring you by talking about her books and her all the time? she's just so amazing. i'm reading 'my heart laid bare' and it's wonderful.)
-frigoverre (in me and shannon's on-going mission to eradicate plastic from our lives, this was a landmark discovery. i fret about plastic food storage and this stuff has a glass base. we've got tons of it and the thrill hasn't worn off yet.)
-making smoothies for breakfast (gina got me started and now i can't stop. i actually did stop for a couple of weeks, but only because we didn't have any food in the fridge. but i went grocery shopping yesterday and came back with organic blueberries and raspberries, some frozen peaches, more rice milk, spinach....i already had some of my favorite rice protein powder and some sprouted raw flax seeds. so, super tastiness this morning.)
-the liam finn album. remember i posted a video of his performance on david letterman and said i'd bought the album? well, it's good.
seriously, though, guys.
please use your hands-free headset with your phone, and even when you're kicking it hands-free, keep your phone somewhere aside from on your person. not to be all preachy, but brain tumors are sons of bitches, and i love you guys and i want you to live.
Friday, March 28, 2008
blahblahblahwriting.
i flew back from LA yesterday for writing class.
i thought it was the last one, but i guess it was the second-to-last one.
i've been feeling a bit unenthused about my class, kinda aimless and drifting, and was toying with the idea of just not going, but not seriously. maybe old me might have done that, flaked out, but i know myself well enough to know that if i'm resisting something that much, then i should probably shut up and do it, so i went.
my travel day was mostly fine. at LAX to early, since traffic on the 405 is a total mystery and could potentially have taken hours, but in actuality took minutes. some drama in my head about missing my shuttle back to 'Luma, but it didn't happen, so overall, fine. uneventful. no gavin newsom to gawk at. i got home with enough time to hang a little, change clothes, eat something and then head into the city for class. again, thought i was going to be late for class, which i have really tried to avoid after being so late to the first class, and time bent enough for me to make it.
my big resistance to the class lately has been reading my new fiction project. as much as i knew i should share it, i was really afraid of negative feedback, do kept feeling like i didn't want to share yet. but what the hell am i wasting my time writing for if i'm too afraid to share anything i write? in theory, the writing itself is the reward for the writing, because you're releasing things out of your brain that would otherwise just build up and smother you. so, it should be a relief to let it all out, whether or not you share it. but really, why bother if you won't share it? how do you know what you need to work on? how do you know if it's any good at all?
so, i brought my laptop to class, with the intention of reading my new stuff.
when it was time to read, i almost chickened out, and i got all flustered and nervous, but i did it anyway. so, i read, the first 10 or so pages of the book, and heard a few noises from the rest of the class as i read, some 'hmm' and some laughing. that's a good sign, i thought. after i was done, everyone was wildly enthusiastic. everyone applauded me at the end of class. lee, who is sparing with his praise, said, not just yeah, but fuck yeah. alan, my teacher, referenced dickens and kafka and margaret atwood. i think, after the difficulties and the repetition of my mistakes in the memoir, me reading this was a surprise for everyone, because the novel is more me. the memoir was artificial and forced, but the novel is me writing the way i want to. everyone was really interested to see what happened next, and there was lots of discussion about directions to take it and what should happen to the main character. alan sent me an email today, about some authors he thought i might want to read, that he was reminded of by my writing, and he said that my piece was still with him, he'd been thinking about it. he said it was "really, really amazingly good." yay!
it was very exciting. after being so scared and protective of it, and so afraid of it being ripped to shreds, or just left kinda soggy and damp, to have everyone be so positive, so impressed, was terrifically validating. *this* is how artists keep themselves going. yes, you have a feeling you're good, but you need periodic validation to keep you going when you have forgotten, or when other people have told you you suck. these are the memories that light your way when you need some illumination. so, i am jealously, feverishly clutching this feeling to my heart. i can do this. i can do this. i am good at this. sometimes i'm not sure and maybe i even think i'm crap, but i have it in me.
alan did a bit of a wrap up for the class, with some general words of wisdom and encouragement, that really hit the spot.
i've actually hit a bit of a wall with my story. i imagine it like this: i'm in a car. i set out filled with excitement, a really clear plan in mind of my route. my tank is full, i have snacks, i have good road music and i'm GOING FOR IT. so i'm going! and it's awesome - as awesome as i'd imagined, maybe better! man, the scenery is so good and i've got the windows rolled down and the music is blasting and i'm singing at the top of my lungs and drumming on the steering wheel! then, as time passes, i start getting tired. my trip has taken less time than i thought, and some of the stuff i had planned turned out to not be that cool so i skipped it, but don't have alternate plans. it's getting dark, i've eaten everything i brought with me, i don't have anywhere to stay, and i might have taken a wrong turn. i'm driving slower and slower, down a road that i thought i knew, but am realizing i don't actually know. slower and slower, until suddenly i am stopped completely on a deserted road, in the middle of the night, surrounded by huge trees. i don't really know where i am and i don't know where i am headed and i am feeling overwhelmed and scared by the confusion. it was all so well thought out, you know?
this is me, lost and scared in the middle of my project. i have run out of gas, i have lost the map.
and this isn't the first time this has happened to me.
i realized that this happens every time. i have a bunch of started but unfinished projects, short stories or something, where i started off really elated and clear and slowly rolled to a stop at some point, unclear what to do, so i abandoned the car and walked home.
but i'd like to end this habit.
alan was saying that writing your book can be a chance to work through all your problems? are you a quitter? work it out on your book. lazy? superficial? fearful? pour all of it into the writing of the novel. he said that when he wrote his book, he was at a really low point. but he surrendered to the process. he said, alright, this is me - whatever i am. pathetic, angry, sad, frustrated, everything i am, i'm not going to hold back, i'm going to pour it all in.
so, i'm in.
he talked about being in the middle of his book and being at temple, for yom kippur. the rabbi is lowered to the ground my two other people, prostrate before the torah and god, on the day of atonement, and he says something in hebrew that translates to 'here i am.' and that's what he imagined doing with his novel. here i am, face down, prostrate before you. i am hiding nothing.
i got tears in my eyes when he said it. partly because of how beautiful that image of total surrender is, and partly because i reminded me of one of mom's ubiquitous labelmate messages, one on her bathroom mirror. it said 'here i am lord.'
admitting we have no control and we're flailing around trying to make it happen when really we have no idea what we're doing - it can be terrifying. but it's what's true most of the time. we have no idea what we're doing. we're scared and confused and just doing it, whatever it is, and hoping for the best.
i appreciate the liberation of surrender. once you surrender, it's out of your hands, which is a relief.
i've been feeling like a failure because i don't know what i'm doing with my writing and i'm worried i'm going to quit and be entirely without a goal again and that i'll waste this new sense if clarity, which was so hard earned through mom's death, and that i'll just sit here forever, waiting for something to happen to me, because i don't know what to do. i want to really Be this new me, in the world. i feel so different and so much more capable, or, i did, but it feels like it's going away without opportunities to use it. like, being me, in my house, at the gym, isn't enough. like i can only shine and know myself in a state of crisis. i don't want to lose this sense of purpose, of ME, this version of ME that i really admire, but i just can't seem to figure out how to translate ME into a post-crisis life. i am all filled with fears again, hesitating because i can.
so, i'm pouring it all into the book. so help me god, i will finish this book. it will be hard, probably, because most things worth doing are, and i am going to dig deep and mine everything i have and i am going to just pour it all in to this project. every ounce of my insecurity, my needing my mom, my doubts about my future and what i am capable of, my fears of repeating my mom's mistakes, my fears of failure, my hunger for success and to make myself proud, my need for approval, my shame, my anger, my quitting, my regret - ALL OF IT. fucking all of it. if i have anything to offer the world, if i have anything good or bad in me, i hope to show it in this damn book. i'm sorry it wasn't the book about mom, but i'm just not ready yet.
i get mail addressed to The Estate of Jenna Fisher.
it's so weird, because getting mail to her just feels like a mistake, but that mail, to The Estate, is like a little electric shock of realization - mom has an estate because she died. she died. my mom died. she's dead. she's no less dead now than before. it can be so painful still sometimes, even though most of the times it's not. sometimes something will hit the scar in the right way and it just stabs me again, the realization.
i heard that sharper image is filing for bankruptcy. it's probably because mom is dead. i think she might have been single-handedly keeping them afloat.
today was my last training session with jimmy. i tried to figure out how to buy more sessions, but i just can't afford it without screwing myself financially. i'm feeling really sad about it. he's leaving at the end of april to move to ventura to be a cop (the good kind, not the criminal sodomizing kind), but i had hoped to stay with it at least until he leaves. maybe something will turn up. i'm have a really hard time letting it/him go. it's embarrassing to admit, but he was one of the biggest things that helped me get through my grieving. it feels painfully appropriate that he's going now, as i am realizing that i am out of the woods with the grieving, so to speak, and that it's time to figure out how to live again. like my crutch is getting yanked out from under me, and i need to wobble around unaided. i mostly kept it together, saying goodbye, but i had to go down into the locker room and cry a little bit.
okay, i haven't worked on my book today, so i'm going to log some hours.
p.s. we have a reading scheduled, as the culmination of our class, and i'd love it if you'd come, if you'd like. it's on april 13th, a sunday, from 2 to 4pm, here:
Bird and Beckett Bookstore
San Francisco's
southernmost literary & jazz joint
in the heart of the city's
Glen Park neighborhood
653 Chenery Street,
between Diamond & Castro
in Glen Park
1-1/2 blocks from Glen Park BART station
& MUNI lines 23, 26, 44, 52 & J-Church
don't worry, i'll remind you.
i thought it was the last one, but i guess it was the second-to-last one.
i've been feeling a bit unenthused about my class, kinda aimless and drifting, and was toying with the idea of just not going, but not seriously. maybe old me might have done that, flaked out, but i know myself well enough to know that if i'm resisting something that much, then i should probably shut up and do it, so i went.
my travel day was mostly fine. at LAX to early, since traffic on the 405 is a total mystery and could potentially have taken hours, but in actuality took minutes. some drama in my head about missing my shuttle back to 'Luma, but it didn't happen, so overall, fine. uneventful. no gavin newsom to gawk at. i got home with enough time to hang a little, change clothes, eat something and then head into the city for class. again, thought i was going to be late for class, which i have really tried to avoid after being so late to the first class, and time bent enough for me to make it.
my big resistance to the class lately has been reading my new fiction project. as much as i knew i should share it, i was really afraid of negative feedback, do kept feeling like i didn't want to share yet. but what the hell am i wasting my time writing for if i'm too afraid to share anything i write? in theory, the writing itself is the reward for the writing, because you're releasing things out of your brain that would otherwise just build up and smother you. so, it should be a relief to let it all out, whether or not you share it. but really, why bother if you won't share it? how do you know what you need to work on? how do you know if it's any good at all?
so, i brought my laptop to class, with the intention of reading my new stuff.
when it was time to read, i almost chickened out, and i got all flustered and nervous, but i did it anyway. so, i read, the first 10 or so pages of the book, and heard a few noises from the rest of the class as i read, some 'hmm' and some laughing. that's a good sign, i thought. after i was done, everyone was wildly enthusiastic. everyone applauded me at the end of class. lee, who is sparing with his praise, said, not just yeah, but fuck yeah. alan, my teacher, referenced dickens and kafka and margaret atwood. i think, after the difficulties and the repetition of my mistakes in the memoir, me reading this was a surprise for everyone, because the novel is more me. the memoir was artificial and forced, but the novel is me writing the way i want to. everyone was really interested to see what happened next, and there was lots of discussion about directions to take it and what should happen to the main character. alan sent me an email today, about some authors he thought i might want to read, that he was reminded of by my writing, and he said that my piece was still with him, he'd been thinking about it. he said it was "really, really amazingly good." yay!
it was very exciting. after being so scared and protective of it, and so afraid of it being ripped to shreds, or just left kinda soggy and damp, to have everyone be so positive, so impressed, was terrifically validating. *this* is how artists keep themselves going. yes, you have a feeling you're good, but you need periodic validation to keep you going when you have forgotten, or when other people have told you you suck. these are the memories that light your way when you need some illumination. so, i am jealously, feverishly clutching this feeling to my heart. i can do this. i can do this. i am good at this. sometimes i'm not sure and maybe i even think i'm crap, but i have it in me.
alan did a bit of a wrap up for the class, with some general words of wisdom and encouragement, that really hit the spot.
i've actually hit a bit of a wall with my story. i imagine it like this: i'm in a car. i set out filled with excitement, a really clear plan in mind of my route. my tank is full, i have snacks, i have good road music and i'm GOING FOR IT. so i'm going! and it's awesome - as awesome as i'd imagined, maybe better! man, the scenery is so good and i've got the windows rolled down and the music is blasting and i'm singing at the top of my lungs and drumming on the steering wheel! then, as time passes, i start getting tired. my trip has taken less time than i thought, and some of the stuff i had planned turned out to not be that cool so i skipped it, but don't have alternate plans. it's getting dark, i've eaten everything i brought with me, i don't have anywhere to stay, and i might have taken a wrong turn. i'm driving slower and slower, down a road that i thought i knew, but am realizing i don't actually know. slower and slower, until suddenly i am stopped completely on a deserted road, in the middle of the night, surrounded by huge trees. i don't really know where i am and i don't know where i am headed and i am feeling overwhelmed and scared by the confusion. it was all so well thought out, you know?
this is me, lost and scared in the middle of my project. i have run out of gas, i have lost the map.
and this isn't the first time this has happened to me.
i realized that this happens every time. i have a bunch of started but unfinished projects, short stories or something, where i started off really elated and clear and slowly rolled to a stop at some point, unclear what to do, so i abandoned the car and walked home.
but i'd like to end this habit.
alan was saying that writing your book can be a chance to work through all your problems? are you a quitter? work it out on your book. lazy? superficial? fearful? pour all of it into the writing of the novel. he said that when he wrote his book, he was at a really low point. but he surrendered to the process. he said, alright, this is me - whatever i am. pathetic, angry, sad, frustrated, everything i am, i'm not going to hold back, i'm going to pour it all in.
so, i'm in.
he talked about being in the middle of his book and being at temple, for yom kippur. the rabbi is lowered to the ground my two other people, prostrate before the torah and god, on the day of atonement, and he says something in hebrew that translates to 'here i am.' and that's what he imagined doing with his novel. here i am, face down, prostrate before you. i am hiding nothing.
i got tears in my eyes when he said it. partly because of how beautiful that image of total surrender is, and partly because i reminded me of one of mom's ubiquitous labelmate messages, one on her bathroom mirror. it said 'here i am lord.'
admitting we have no control and we're flailing around trying to make it happen when really we have no idea what we're doing - it can be terrifying. but it's what's true most of the time. we have no idea what we're doing. we're scared and confused and just doing it, whatever it is, and hoping for the best.
i appreciate the liberation of surrender. once you surrender, it's out of your hands, which is a relief.
i've been feeling like a failure because i don't know what i'm doing with my writing and i'm worried i'm going to quit and be entirely without a goal again and that i'll waste this new sense if clarity, which was so hard earned through mom's death, and that i'll just sit here forever, waiting for something to happen to me, because i don't know what to do. i want to really Be this new me, in the world. i feel so different and so much more capable, or, i did, but it feels like it's going away without opportunities to use it. like, being me, in my house, at the gym, isn't enough. like i can only shine and know myself in a state of crisis. i don't want to lose this sense of purpose, of ME, this version of ME that i really admire, but i just can't seem to figure out how to translate ME into a post-crisis life. i am all filled with fears again, hesitating because i can.
so, i'm pouring it all into the book. so help me god, i will finish this book. it will be hard, probably, because most things worth doing are, and i am going to dig deep and mine everything i have and i am going to just pour it all in to this project. every ounce of my insecurity, my needing my mom, my doubts about my future and what i am capable of, my fears of repeating my mom's mistakes, my fears of failure, my hunger for success and to make myself proud, my need for approval, my shame, my anger, my quitting, my regret - ALL OF IT. fucking all of it. if i have anything to offer the world, if i have anything good or bad in me, i hope to show it in this damn book. i'm sorry it wasn't the book about mom, but i'm just not ready yet.
i get mail addressed to The Estate of Jenna Fisher.
it's so weird, because getting mail to her just feels like a mistake, but that mail, to The Estate, is like a little electric shock of realization - mom has an estate because she died. she died. my mom died. she's dead. she's no less dead now than before. it can be so painful still sometimes, even though most of the times it's not. sometimes something will hit the scar in the right way and it just stabs me again, the realization.
i heard that sharper image is filing for bankruptcy. it's probably because mom is dead. i think she might have been single-handedly keeping them afloat.
today was my last training session with jimmy. i tried to figure out how to buy more sessions, but i just can't afford it without screwing myself financially. i'm feeling really sad about it. he's leaving at the end of april to move to ventura to be a cop (the good kind, not the criminal sodomizing kind), but i had hoped to stay with it at least until he leaves. maybe something will turn up. i'm have a really hard time letting it/him go. it's embarrassing to admit, but he was one of the biggest things that helped me get through my grieving. it feels painfully appropriate that he's going now, as i am realizing that i am out of the woods with the grieving, so to speak, and that it's time to figure out how to live again. like my crutch is getting yanked out from under me, and i need to wobble around unaided. i mostly kept it together, saying goodbye, but i had to go down into the locker room and cry a little bit.
okay, i haven't worked on my book today, so i'm going to log some hours.
p.s. we have a reading scheduled, as the culmination of our class, and i'd love it if you'd come, if you'd like. it's on april 13th, a sunday, from 2 to 4pm, here:
Bird and Beckett Bookstore
San Francisco's
southernmost literary & jazz joint
in the heart of the city's
Glen Park neighborhood
653 Chenery Street,
between Diamond & Castro
in Glen Park
1-1/2 blocks from Glen Park BART station
& MUNI lines 23, 26, 44, 52 & J-Church
don't worry, i'll remind you.
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
peep.
peeps diorama competition.
it happens every year!
so happy-making.
i'm in la, visiting shannon for a few days.
it's more wonderful to see him than i could have possibly predicted.
i think i ignore/avoid thinking too hard about how much i miss him, because if i did, i might never stop crying.
i told him the other day that, while i am capable of keeping myself alive while he is gone, i am incapable of thriving without him.
going through the loss of mom makes feeling so dependent, so needful of someone very scary. you know, one of us will die, eventually, and the other one will be really, really sad.
but until then, he makes me so happy i just can't even believe it.
i am staying an extra two days because i just couldn't bear to leave him.
on a personal note, i am having a little bit of a crisis, trying to determine what i am doing with my life. now that i'm not in school, and not ready to get back into it, thinking about babies soon, but not quite yet, know i want to write but not sure what that looks like...what the hell am i doing with myself? i'm having trouble writing, which sucks. i'm feeling scared and confused and lethargic and aimless.
it'll all come together eventually, but the not-together-yet phase is particularly painful.
it happens every year!
so happy-making.
i'm in la, visiting shannon for a few days.
it's more wonderful to see him than i could have possibly predicted.
i think i ignore/avoid thinking too hard about how much i miss him, because if i did, i might never stop crying.
i told him the other day that, while i am capable of keeping myself alive while he is gone, i am incapable of thriving without him.
going through the loss of mom makes feeling so dependent, so needful of someone very scary. you know, one of us will die, eventually, and the other one will be really, really sad.
but until then, he makes me so happy i just can't even believe it.
i am staying an extra two days because i just couldn't bear to leave him.
on a personal note, i am having a little bit of a crisis, trying to determine what i am doing with my life. now that i'm not in school, and not ready to get back into it, thinking about babies soon, but not quite yet, know i want to write but not sure what that looks like...what the hell am i doing with myself? i'm having trouble writing, which sucks. i'm feeling scared and confused and lethargic and aimless.
it'll all come together eventually, but the not-together-yet phase is particularly painful.
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