action/inaction

i have this obsession with fear. you could call me a fraidy-cat. i know that in the end, things will work out. but in the interim, while waiting, i get nervous. i quake internally. i shut down.

it's usually not the something i can put my finger on; it's something i cannot locate. yesterday, when dan asked me what i wanted to do, i wanted to watch a movie. that is the epitome of inaction for me--sitting and watching. but i could think of nothing else i wanted to do. everything seems insurmountable right now--putting away clothing is too large a job to complete, cleaning the grill is mt everest. i have to get these things done. i need to pay rent. i need to DO something, some chore that will wake up the sleeping inner dragon and make me move.

i often feel like the deer in headlights. something shines over me, some unnameable or even familiar fear, and i freeze. i wait for it to pass and shine on some other tree, some other beastie, because once i'm in the dark again, i'm safe. it's just that those seconds stretch on for me into far too much time. inaction becomes a way of life, i adapt and it's okay to not do anything.

which goes against the grain of my existence. my mom never sits down unless she is done with everything; i have the same drive to finish things before i rest, but i'm at this point where i feel as if i will never be done with anything. so why bother? i don't have the equipment together to climb the mountain, so i better just stay at base camp.

it's not something anyone else can change, either. it's something i have to change. i've done it before. it's like dragging a car out of a coke can--you just keep pulling and pulling and then the fear is in the light of day and it's not as awful as i imagine it is, and i can handle it, and i can move again.

so don't mind me at the moment. i'm just trying to de-hibernate. melt. thaw. once the light moves on, i'll be fine. my house will be clean, my life will be un-stuck; just give me the gift of time.

gainful employment

dan said to me yeterday that he wished he was "gainfully employed." i understand this issue because he's been looking for a long time and being more and more frustrated by what he's found--about zip, right now. i'm a practical person by nature; i would rather work at a job i dislike than go without funds for bill paying, food purchasing, book buying, etc. but lately i can see his point.

my dad's been gainfully employed for 30 plus years of his life with the same company. what has he gained? a house, a truck, retirement eventually, part of all of his childrens' college educations, funds for my sister's wedding. every payroll he STILL puts a dollar into an account for all four of us kids. the man is my epitome of a good man, and i'm SO blessed to have such a loyal and patient man as my father.

but then turn the tables. what has he lost, what has he sacrified for this company, in order to remain "gainfully employed." he lost a lot of time being my dad. he lost time being my mom's husband. he gained stress that added to his heart disease and eventually pushed him over the edge and into 6 bypasses, and a change of life involving exercise and diet that was, in a word, radical. i remember when mom turned 50 dad got her a snowmobile suit. they don't snowmobile. he got it for her because she's always cold, and he inevitably was away at school in canton, oh, during every massive blizzard we ever had.

i just got an email this morning from dad. they've changed his schedule again; now he's supposed to have weds and thursday off, instead of his normal sat/sun or sun/mon. recently his schedule was "revised" due to the doctor's note requiring him to work no more than 50 hours a week--his new schedule is 11-8 monday thru saturday. it's ridiculous for a man who's up at 5 and feels the day is "wasted" if you haven't done anything by 8 am. it's hard to change this many years of habit. so he's already stressed about that. my mother apparently has had enough. she wrote a scathing (for my mother, it's scathing) letter to dad's immediate boss at work, one that hopefully will change something. dad's retiring at the end of june, and it's not a moment too soon, but maybe, just maybe, they'll see that they need to accomodate their employees.

who wants to be gainfully employed like that? no one i know. i feel lucky to have the job i do--i dislike it a great deal of the time, but when i think about dad's job, and how they've yanked his chain over the years--it makes me sick. dad was raised in a time when you stayed with a company for your whole life, when they cared for you when you retired, and where you were loyal beyond a thought.

times have changed; dad's morals have not. he is still the patriot who risked all in vietnam. he is still the dad who wept at my sister's wedding. he is still the husband who is proud to be with his wife. he is still the loyal employee who doesn't look for recognition or accolades at work, just wants to be appreciated enough to have his views and his needs be taken into account. he smiles when he could be frowning, plods forward when he could allow life to drag him down.

i always think about how my childhood would have been different, if he'd been a dad who came home every night before we went to bed, and if he hadn't been gone for a few months of the year training, and if he hadn't been on call every other weekend. when i was a kid we always took two cars everywhere, not because we couldn't fit in one, but because at any given time, dad might have to leave.

gainfully employed. i think about those words, roll them over a few times, and shove them out the door. employed is what most people are. gainful employment implies that you are getting something out of it other than a paycheck. for most of the world, that's just not true. you muddle through and you dislike your job, you pay the bills and fund your retirement, you buy your own coffin. along the way, at some point, dad had to have decided that the sacrifice he made for his company, to be employed, was gaining him something. i am sure and certain that dad saw putting food on the table and roof over our heads as more important than anything in the world, a gain that cannot be measured.

i just wish that he hadn't felt he had to do that.

a day off...

today i don't have to go in to work. which is good because i'm being walloped by allergies and coupled with the blood pressure tablets, i'm woozy. yay, pills. also yay, fisherman's friend cough drops. if you've never had one, you have no idea of what you're missing--they're awful, but they do twice the job of halls and actually alleviate some of the pressure in your sinuses without the loads of sugar.

anyway, i have to get ready--tony and cari are on their way down for a stopover with dan and i prior to jumping a plane to st maarten for the next week. i'm very excited to see cari (and tony), as i haven't seen either of them in at least a good two months. they need to be at the airport by 330. then tonight we're gaming over here, which is not in honor of dan's bday but just so happens to fit perfectly. tomorrow is cathy's wedding shower, and then sunday is a day of rest before next week starts all over again.

i found this in my inbox; forgot i'd even written it. it's from april 6th, and apparently i was having a foggy comprehension day at work. i write a lot of poems at work, mainly to escape the drudge but also because inspiration strikes at odd times. today i'm missing the Big Meeting, during which i'm sure bombs will be dropped and hopefully confronted. they're actually turning off the phones for this one, so the whole team can get together. i don't know if our supe eavesdropped on the online chat we all had going, or if he just overheard the dissension in the ranks, but for this job, turning off the phones is HUGE. it's just plain old unheard of. but i sure as hell am not driving up for an hour when i could be lunching w/ cari!

anyway here's the poem:

they ask
is your head
in the clouds?
no, the forecast for today
is fog
fingers wrapping me
some peices of skin are so
clear
i can see pores while others
drift
i think of that day we drove
through denver; dad wanted to climb
pike's peak
but it was partially swathed
the trees at its base so vivid
the top, hidden.
***
maybe i'm camoflaged so well
you can't see me
hiding in plain sight
i'm not even trying
my my said the big bad wolf
you didn't notice me
in my dress

speaking in tongues

for two days
we've spoken
you in icelandic
me in whatever language they use
in morocco
two days of me not comprehending
you
frustrated by my inability
to translate
i curl in
on myself i wonder how deep down
i can go
before i hear your gutteral whispers
and they finally make sense
to these ears.

***

it's like the sun
hiding behind
clouds manufactured by disney
puffy and soft
i know when it is revealed
the slow sink into blue
i'll be blinded
but for now i picture it round
like a giant pillow, rays pointed
little triangles along the radius
one of those drawn
with your left hand
when you're five.
suddenly
i understand--

***

pass me my sunglasses
i can hear every word you say
all the syllables, grinding bright
against my cornea
i blink
hard
trying to shut out the noise
songs being sung in tongues
i don't recognize
am i buddha cool
in my shades,
burned by nouns--
i have to admit
i'm basking
in the verbage,
yours and mine.

again

once upon a time there was this girl who didn't sleep well on sundays. she tried and tried but it was just a flop. every sunday she had to be coaxed into bed. and this sunday in particular she just could not sleep, despite being groggy already and toasty warm. she had to fight with her significant other because he thinks, nay, knows that his life is over at the age of 29, because the dreams he had for himself are not coming to fruition.

now this girl's a dreamer. she dreams all the time about coulda, shoulda, woulda, and sometimes even dreams with glass slippers and knights, just for spice. but she never would think of her life as over. ever. she has too much to live for--family, friends, the next book that comes out, the next thunderstorm, her cat. you name it. last night she wanted to give up, because if all you're living for is a goal, then what is the point of the journey?

anyway last night this girl dreamed that she was living in an apartment building, and that her cat had gotten out of the apartment and the college girls upstairs had a party and shaved her cat. they left long strings of fur and braided those. the apartment was crowded and awful, dirty and bug-ridden. the girl wanted to know why she was living in such filth--it was like waking up or something and realizing this, just in this dream. this girl didn't want to take the stat answer of "well, it was all we could afford, and you'll just have to let the cat's fur grow out," which was her mother's answer, shouted from a different room. she stomped into her room and slammed the door, saying, i'm so angry i could spit.

which she is, mainly because no matter how bad life is, there is always someone who has it worse, and this mantra keeps her happy for the most part. it's the line she heard as a kid about eating the food on her plate because there were children starving in africa. those kids, now they've got it bad. this girl, she's got it pretty good. and she thinks her significant other does too--sometimes paring down your life will lead you to a different window, one you didn't see prior to that because you were staring out the front door. this girl has yet to find hers, and she's pretty sure that he has yet to find his, too. but sometimes all you can do is wait for the window to open.
the moral of the story? this girl should have gotten more sleep.

me, a name, i call myself...

...far a longer way to run...i've had that song in my head since last night, when my cousin therese was putting her son sean to bed--so adorable in his little red footie pajamas. he's got therese's big blue eyes and her dark hair, but apparently brian's appetite. such a mix.

yesterday i drove up to minneapolis to see the whalen side of the family. i always think it's going to be more difficult than it is. i don't know why. it's like i build myself up for this horrible, horrible experience and then nothing happens that's horrible. strained, sometimes, but more often than not you just have to confess how your job is going and if you're buying a house or whatnot. there was a good portion of my family actually there--i think the only ones missing were my cousin steve and his sig other, elsa, who live in ny, ny, and my uncle dan, who i think is either in ireland or germany right now.

the reason behind the gathering was my uncle, jed, who was up visiting from ca. always good to see him--he's got a delightful laugh. but the stroke, and i think coming out even tho it's been six or seven years now, have changed him a great deal. he's not the person i remember. he wanted to give me a hug, but didn't seem to want to talk to me. kind of standoffish. i talked to dan about it on the way home and he agreed, but he said it's been like this for a longer period of time. i don't know if he feels alienated or what the deal is, but it was just awkward. i'm a huggy, chatty person; it's difficult to think that someone would feel uncomfortable around me. dan pointed out that it seemed to be everyone, not just me, and wasn't an isolated incident. that did make me feel better.

it makes me think about how people change, how one time you see them and they're a totally different organism the next time you see them. it seems like they're consistent, that their personality is a constant, and then three months pass and you see them again, and something in their environment has served as an evolutionary force. i still love this other incarnation of my uncle, just like i still love my grandma even though she has changed greatly. you don't stop that part, that's the constant. it's like this equation, or worse yet, word problem. your relationship changes based on the individual changes in the other person; you make changes in your reception and your conversation based on something minute, something the other person perhaps does not realize they have done.

i think about when i was a kid, how my sister and her friend got angry because they'd found one of those spots you claim as a kid--down by a drainage ditch, nice little stream. me being bossy little twelve-year-old kim took it upon herself to move rocks out of the stream, so that (in my opinion) it would better flow. sara and amanda threw a fit; why change what was working fine already, etc. in retrospect i've no clue as to why i thought those rocks should be moved. it was just a general nudge to do so, and when you're 12, you don't consider consequences in the same way you do ten years after that.

did the rocks i pulled out of that little stream affect somthing broader than my sister's attitude? probably not. it's a drainage ditch, right? but it affected her to this day. she still remembers that whole scene as something where i was standing on her toes. i think back on it and i don't remember my sister's reactions as much as i now think about the cellular level and any frogs i may have impacted due to my "assistance."

something small that turns into something larger--something more broad. dad's stress test turned into six bypasses, and 50 lbs of weight lost, a diet changed, a treadmill bought. he is a different person than he was prior to that february day--different, but not entirely different. still dad. grandma whalen, despite the dementia, is still shaped like my grandma--now with regrown hair. she still smells like grandma, she still acts like grandma. when i think about it in those terms, the erosion of brain tissue--it makes me want to know how *i* have changed over time. what things happen to make you less of an open person. has it been the slow build back into having high blood pressure? will this half a pill i take nightly impact my personality? has it already? what is my guide for knowing if it has? there's not a chart or scale i can use.

i wish, oftentimes, that there were. that people had hanging around their neck some kind of code that told me how best to interact with them. perhaps jed didn't want to have a heart to heart discussion, or even a how's-the-weather chat. but the only way for me to know that is to ask, and the only way to learn is to experience. it would make a life a lot easier if it was simplified--i could just walk up to someone who WANTS to chat and chat with them, as opposed to trying to feel out your conversation partner and getting snubbed.

which i'm sure jed didn't feel like he was doing. who knows. he will fly back to ca with whatever impressions he gathered, and i will remain here, with what i have.

it was good to see the family, though. colin and sean, the under-5 set, grow so quickly. kids are just plain cute when they're little. interesting too to see my cousins, kelsey and ericka--i remember when ericka was just born--she was at grandpa whalen's last christmas in 1988 and was just a baby then. and now she's driving and getting ready to graduate high school in a few years. or less. yikes.

time goes faster, exponentially, the older you get. it's like you walk to the top of a very big hill--most people run, i think, really--and then when you get close to 30, you sit down, and it hits you that you're maybe more than a third of the way through your life expectancy. but instead of time returning and being a further climb, you lay down, and you roll down the hill. i'm just starting to gather speed, i suppose. you measure your life in the size of children around you. those long and bored afternoons of your youth are shorter and filled with adult crap like paying bills and cleaning the oven and filling the birdfeeder. it will be interesting to see people at the whalen reunion this year, measure the old tree and see what rings have changed and what rings have grown.

anyway. i'm off to fill some time before nathan calls with more stuff that i didn't have to do when i was seven--hose out the bathrooms, clean up the kitchen, vacuum, laundry, mundane stuff that i should be able to wish done. *sigh* so long, farewell, auf wiedersehn, good bye.

the skinny

that's been my phrase of choice this week: here's the skinny.

so here it is for this week.

monday i felt like my head was being split in two and finally made a dr's appt for tuesday. tuesday found out i have a sinus infection and was given stuff to combat said infection, which makes me a bit dizzy. also had my blood pressure checked and once again it's doing that spiking thing it did years ago, so now i'm on this blood pressure medication that makes me want to sleep. a lot. a fucking huge lot. yawn...

weds we had friends over and gamed, thursday dan got a job (not something he was hoping for but a job's a job, at this point.) and we went to half price books. now it's friday. i'm supposed to be going in early in order to make up for the hour i'm short this week but it might be more like half an hour early because i'm feeling slow this morning. tomorrow i have to find a good salad to make for the whalen side of the family, and then we're having a whalen picnic tomorrow night. so that will be enjoyable, as much as it can be on that side of the family. (they're pokers; they like to poke at you as if you're on display. blech.)

the blood pressure thing has been just gnawing at me since i got the perscription. but as the dr said, they're a bit more agressive than they used to be.

to sum up: about six years ago, i was scheduled to have my wisdom teeth removed. this was in march. in february (i think) i fell and hit my right cheek on some concrete stairs (ice + kim = hospital visit). i thought it might be broken so we lumped out to urgent care. where they took my blood pressure and asked: are you feeling all right? because you should be having a stroke... etc. did a bunch of tests (ultrasound was the coolest) to see if they could find a reason it would spike (it was like 200/100 or something painful; i felt fine.) but there was nothing and i was walking more at that time, so the dr decided that i just needed to watch my salt intake. i guess the old body still does the spiking thing when it gets nervous (like at the dr). who knew. not me. anyway that was the same year that i had a sinus infection (after the fall) and found out i was allergic to penecillin (large platter sized hives, a shot of adrenalin and a shot of benadryl, and i was down for the count.) and sulfa drugs (smaller hives, benadryl pills, also down for the count.) and my wisdom teeth had to be put off until the week of easter.

i can't remember when that was that year. it was in 1999; i know this because all of this happened directly prior to corey passing away. it was just like a marathon of being in pain, in one form or another. i think that this week, when the dr asked if i would mind trying a perscription, i just flashed back six whole years.

it was corey's birthday on the 11th--a celebration of life. we're rolling up closer to the 18th, the day he passed away. anniversaries are always difficult; you never know how you're going to react to the day, the month, the time frame. it's always hard; i don't think you realize how dulled you become, over time, to the pain. it still hurts. you always wish that person alive, you wish for a different outcome. but wishing doesn't change anything.

sitting in the dr's office on tuesday, waiting to pick up my perscription, i was transported back. i remembered all the ups and downs, and then that phone call. i remembered driving frantically to duluth on a sunday morning, no wallets, no purse. i remember seeing the sun come through the clouds outside of duluth, the silence that we carried in that car. i remember the song on the radio--grateful dead's a touch of gray--and how right after that song ended it started "don't fear the reaper" and dan leaning over and flicking the radio off. his dad's face when we pulled up outside the house, shaking his head.

they say you can't remember actual physical pain, that your brain cannot hold it, that this is why childbirth can be so horrible and women still want another child. i don't think this is true. when the dr handed me my perscriptions, he gave me a free pass into time. i literally felt as if i were reliving those months again, like they were starting over. being on the blood pressure tablets is a bit like moving through a dream, anyway. you're sluggish, tired, slow. i keep feeling like crying, and i do not know if it is because of all the things or just one--is it the fear of that spiking pressure? exhaustion on the part of the sinus infection? memories of that week? happiness to be alive?

being a catholic, or being raised catholic, has sludged into mountains of guilt. i feel i ought to confess that i am glad to be alive, to have it as good as i do, and still be depressed right now--as if this is a sin, something for which i should do penance. i remember feeling guilt when corey died--why him, why so young, why not me, or anyone else. today's rash of guilt is sponsored by this week and the slow peeling back of layers around myself, by my blood pressure tablet and the fear of seeing my family on saturday. memory, fear, love. i would willingly relive those months, if only to see you again. or rather, see you with dan again. it is not that i miss you less, but that i would give anything to see you two banging around outside with the basketball, walking into the house, flushed and sweaty, smiling.

so today is also sponsored by the sun, shining bright outside in a blue, blue sky, when corey's not here to shoot hoops with dan out in it.

for whatever reason, i am here. something yet to be defined, perhaps. maybe just to feed the cat, or maybe something yet to happen today, tomorrow, next week. maybe the something has already occurred, or was passed fleetingly without a backward glance, or maybe it's just that we are all here for an alloted time period, to live our time in the sun to the fullest, and i ought to be glad the curtain's still up.

still sleeping

finally slept for more than 6 hours...only to be woken by the persistent beeping of my alarm, reminding me that it's monday. and i have to go to work.

i didn't do anything strenuous this weekend and yet i'm so exhausted. it's either one of two things: a sinus infection or my period sneaking up on me again. blech, either way. if it's a sinus infection, it means i have to go to the doctor. if it's my period, same thing. you know the post the other day, about being on time and being immune to time for the most part? my inner workings are apparently also blissfully ignorant. it hasn't even been 25 days and for some reason ye olde body is gearing up again. aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh. it's probably why i'm tired and just want to hide somewhere. i dislike this feeling, but at the same time, if your body is craving something--salt, sugar, sleep--you sometimes have to cater to it.

which i wish i could do today. i just want to crawl upstairs and cuddle into my blankets again. listen to dan snoring, softly. feel the cat curled up by my shins. listen to cars rumble by over the whirr of the fan. and sleep.

i feel like i've been pushing the snooze button lately on my life--procrastinating to the nth degree over everything. i still haven't had the brake pads done. it's not that i don't want to. it's that i worry that if i do, they'll find something else wrong with the car. and if it's not that, it's monetary. who knows.

gotta shuffle if i want to be on time. (:

these dreams

i keep having strange dreams. i know, to the heels of my feet, that it's because my period is creeping up on me, and i always have weirdo dreams around that time, but honestly. last week i had this ridiculous dream about a chicken and a crockpot and one of my coworkers and his wife wrestling. it was unsettling. last night it was something about how i had done graffiti on a wall or something, and very vividly was denying it despite the fact that they had video.

i guess the reason they're strange isn't because of the content. or maybe it IS because of the content. usually in my dreams the wild and ridiculous factor is taken to a new level of what-the-hell, from which i can usually force a wakeup, or elict a change in the direction of the dream.

lately i'm so involved in the dream, because all the aspects of it are so vivid and fucking normal, that i just get caught up in it. gaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah.

also i'm having problems sleeping more than 6 hours a night. thank you to my brother--i had to pick him up at the airport on tuesday and on monday night I COULD NOT FALL ASLEEP. read until way too late and then slept badly for about 4 hours. i have yet to recoup or sleep longer than 6 this week. which might be due in part to this morning allergy thing i've been having, or may be due to the fact that i have an almost-finished pile of books near my bed.

maybe that's the problem. maybe it's the content of my reading material of late. for a while i was on an all-fantasy, all the time, kick. but i've gone on a romance novel bender, and most of what happens in a romance novel, esp. regencies, is pretty mundane. i'm thinking of what else i have at my bedside--smilla's sense of snow, which is pretty scientific but so beautiful...and frances mayes' under the tuscan sun, which is very different from the movie, but wonderfully written all the same. and another book i don't know that i'll finish by an author with a good name but not very catchy writing skills (graham houghton. don't know why the name sticks with me but the plot does not.)

i think that may be my problem.

but for now i'll blame it on the time change (which should have no effect on me, as for the most part i shrug off the boundaries of clocks much in the manner of superman flexing through five feet of steel chains.) (of course, there would be an anomaly...)

today i'm going to go shower. then i'm going to drive around and see if i can rustle up a rummage sale. then i'm going to...clean my grill? i think. not sure yet. and there's talk of a concert tonight in hudson, wi--13 screws, a band darin and cathy heard that was quite good, apparently. but that's up in the air.

arg, activity upstairs, must run to beat other possible shower-er!

muted

yesterday while on the phone with nathan i had a flash of insight. it was after dinner, during which dan and i watched this amazing new thing they can do for deaf children who are missing the fine hairs inside their cochlea--the ones that allow you to hear nuances like a bird singing, a drum beating, you mom's voice yelling about leaving the toothpaste out. anyway, they can do this thing now where they insert a wire into your cochlea that stimulates it in close to the same manner as the hairs. it's not perfect, but amazing for someone who has never heard anything. of course i cried a little during that. how could you not? this child was just given the opportunity to explore her world in a new way.

i wished, for a few minutes, while watching that girl on television, that i could hear out of both ears. that's not the insight. i'll let you know when it hits. (note: the damage i have is at nerve level, and there's not much they can do about that quite yet.) i wished that i could belong to that set of people. why? who the hell knows. there's beauty in every aspect of every illness or disorder or handicap--it's just a matter of seeing it. the beauty of being deaf is that sound is a gift, and that the way you perceive the world is so different from the person sitting next to you.

i talked about this with kari, one of my now former coworkers, and karen, another coworker, who are both in different stages of being deaf. karen's got one good ear, like me, and kari's got two bad ones, which can be enhanced with the use of a hearing aid. however, since her daughter is also deaf and needed two, kari's only got one.

it was so interesting to finally comprehend that i was first of all not alone in hearing "the charlie brown teacher" voice when i wasn't focused on someone. refreshing and for some reason reassuring to hear that after being in a social situation in which there are myriad voices, you're exhausted. you can't keep your eyes open because the whole time you're so focused on the other person. also reassuring to know that for the most part, we all rely on body language a LOT more than our significant others and friends, just because you're so afraid of missing something.

just plug your ears ometime. see what happens.

i thought it was hysterical and confusing, the first time i saw a jackie chan movie, that i had no idea of what was going on. the little faces on screen were moving and talking, but the words were all dubbed. people in the room were laughing at jokes and i didn't know what the joke even was. i had no idea how much i relied on lip reading. (which reminds me of a day at work: our supervisor came down the aisle and said something amusing to a group of us loitering there, half in and half out of our cubes. everyone laughed. so kari and i laughed too. you do these things to fit in. someone who missed the joke asked what was so funny, and neither of us had any idea. we decided it was a deaf chick thing, and THEN we laughed and no one else quite got the joke.)

i've learned to put up with and love subtitles in movies. my friends and family all walk on my right. i drive because then i can hear the passenger over the road noise.

THIS was the insight i had: i think for a long time i wanted to be a part of the deaf community. but i'm not totally deaf. i don't have to wear a hearing aid, i don't have to sign in order to communicate. i'm part of the hearing world. i told dan once that i wanted to learn to sign because it almost seems like it would be a relief to not have to worry about missing a word or two, having to extrapolate constantly during a conversation and then plead inattention because if you reach into your purse for a peice of gum you miss being attentive to what the other person was saying. course you'd do that if you were signing, too, i suppose. the grass is always greener.

for a long time, too, i wanted my deafness to be something that defined me. i mean, for all intensive purposes, it has; nothing shapes you like a deficiency. but the deficiency in the auditory area has opened up room for other things to take shape and grow. i think about dan's cousin, who was born with one lung. he's almost 20 now, and after all these years, his one lung has grown and expanded and taken up the space of his other lung.

i think about the void i have in my life because i miss so much, and i think about how that has opened other doors for me--the doors that are sensitive to others' moods, the lip reading and body reading that is unconciously done. i think about how wanting to avoid situations in which i might be construed as "stupid" because it seems i'm missing screws have levered me into reading more books, writing poetry, taking pictures.

mostly i think about how the world is filtered differently for each of us. some people are able to go through the world tall enough to reach the top cupboard but unable to see the turtles. i think about stephen hawking and how not much has stood in his way, despite what the rest of us see as a handicap. i think about what sark said in whatever book it was: they never say anything about a fat elephant. or a fat tree. if a tree has a bole that malforms it from the norm, it's a thing of beauty.

how come we cannot see that the disorders and deficiencies of the world are things to be cherished and relied upon?

the cat is close enough, right now, that i can hear her purr, if i turn my head one way. if i look back at my monitor her purring is gone. edited for sound. muted.

dawn

there's a con trail across the sky, out side the window. it's one of those left-hours-ago trails that is starting to resemble cirrus clouds. but the shape is unmistakeable. david's car is outside too, reminding me that tomorrow morning i need to be at the airport at 6 to retrieve him.

if i turn to my right, shiva is giving me her morning stare. she gets wet food every morning and if it's not done by the time i scurry out of the house, there's yowling for the masses.

upstairs i thought i heard the rustle of eero getting ready for work but there's just silence. not sure what's up. i came downstairs to check the weather, and am now thinking of rethinking today's wardrobe choices, as it sounds like it'll be a balmy 72. the shower starts and i probably should get ready for work.

but i really, really, really don't want to.

i'd rather replay yesterday, or the day prior. another weekend day, something to keep me distracted from truth and reality...ie, work. i also have to have new brake pads put in this week, which means calling for prices, so on and so forth. ugh. i wish they were easy to replace and that i could just snap them in like windsheild wipers. *sigh*

yesterday was a great deal of fun. drove out to shakopee with corpse, kiya, d and c and played 18 holes of frisbee golf. then dan and i stayed at d and c's for movie watching (saw, which was interesting but not something i'd probably watch again) and dinner (yummy chicken and taters, thank you cathy). and then home again to get ready for bed. it smelled like rain last night but i guess that's holding off until tomorrow or even tonight, if we're lucky.

off to trade in pajamas for something i can wear to work. cheers all. (:

imdb: independent movie doing beautifully

so yesterday i drove over to river falls, wi, to see if i could help out at all with a movie that my friends sarah (better known as spoon to the general populace) and her bf josh are filming. it's called "cope: a small film about a big decision" and it's going to have more documentary than film, i think. which is the beauty of an indie film.

it was just so nice to belong. and see the bright lights of some kind of theatre, and smell ben nye makeup again. *sigh* so lovely.

stephen (aka daddybear) was also there, doing lights and general guidance, as he's had lots of experience with filmmaking. i ended up doing a variety of things--makeup, holding the boom (that mic on a pole), script and shot supervision, gofer. (hey, we need some masking tape to mark the floor. could someone grab the powder for chris' nose? et cetera.) i think that was what got to me the most--it reminded me SO much of being in any theatre production i've ever done, wherein you're acting during one scene, but then you also are doing props and calling light cues for part of the show...so on and so forth. it reminded me, as i was standing there holding the script and shot list, of just how much i missed stage managing and theatre in general.

as a bonus, i got to hang out with some laid back but artistic people, which is always a pleasure because i despise being rushed and pushed and coerced into hurrying. by the end of the shoot (at which point it was realized that there would have to be a reshoot of the night scenes because josh and sarah both appeared in the sliding glass door reflection like ghosties. which was better than that morning, where, after filming for how long, we watched the dailies and everyone about bit it laughing over daddybear, who thought he was out of frame but really wasn't. colie (the "heroine") is saying good bye to chris ("hero") in the BEDROOM and all you can see the whole time over colie's shoulder is this florid blue and yellow hawaiian shirt, a leg with shorts and a wool sock and sandal, and an arm on top, clearly holding another camera. turns it into an entirely different movie. LOL) anyway by the end of the shoot everyone was beat, myself included. i sat down for "a minute" on the couch with noah, an art major who brought these fabric squares to decorate one wall of the living room--amazing what you can do with thread and fabric if you're an artist. so we sat there discussing this poem that chris had been reading by i think charles norse, it was called the priest and the matador. and in the kitchen they kept shooting and reshooting this scene in which chris' character has to respond to colie's character:

colie: it's just tea.
chris: it's never just tea.

but it kept sounding more like: it's never justy. or it's never justine. so there was a chant that erupted at one point, something annunciating "it's never just tea" but we couldn't get the other videocamera ready fast enough to make a difference. so then we digressed and discussed the monkey who played a nurse on the soap opera "passions."

speaking of names. after shooting and shooting this scene in which chris pours cereal, daddybear pointed out that we couldn't use the cheerios box unless general mills was funding some part of the film. after we got over the "well, shit" portion of that moment, we realized that BEHIND the cheerios box there was a nicely displayed bag of starburst. so that whole scene will need to be re-shot as well. *sigh* but it was a learning experience for everyone, and a valuable one, too.

i also got to have some fabulous homemade spaghetti for lunch, and then steve's pizza (small pizza joint, great pizza) for dinner--we had a greek and it was divine. course we were pretty much starving at that point so it went very fast. one minute there was a pizza on the table and another minute we were asking for the check. snap of the fingers. i think i got home around 1120 or so last night, and by that time i was totally exhausted.

blue skies and sunny today. i feel like writing. or going back over to help film some more. but they're not starting until 8 tonight and that's a bit late, if i want to get up at 6 for work. blech.

so yeah. that was my saturday. i don't think i even told you what the film was about: a man who is OCD; mom wants him to start taking his meds again, new girlfriend has no idea that he's OCD, etc. i'm looking forward to the screening portion, and the "behind the scenes" that is going to be part of this. in theatre you're usually a long ways away from the actors, when the performance is in progress. in film, you see the scene, and you think: my god. there were how many of us in the room at the same time, redoing and redoing the scene.

interesting.