I Made That…

This whole sleeping thing seems to be confusing my brain again. I don’t get tired until super late and then I can’t sleep at night and I can’t sleep in on mornings when I actually could (sleeping in meaning 8 AM) and then I yawn most of the day. That’s not how it should work. Eyelid still twitching. I don’t know if it will ever stop. Last year at the end of the school year, in June 2012, it twitched for over a month…took until about 3 days after I got out of school to stop. Maybe it will be done by Christmas.

I managed exercise (not enough), meditation (brain was barely present), and cutting out fabric (57 minutes)…

This one was fun. Yes, a spider web…in pieces. None of these pieces are easy to cut…they are all so complicated and fussy. Occupies my brain. Good thing. It was getting irritated by grading tests. Bad scores. My daughter and SIL were grading warmups for me…interesting experience for the SIL, a former teacher in a very different type of school. Maybe she has a better idea of my student population now. She made an interesting comment about holiday bonuses and teachers not getting them…she said, well don’t you get gifts from your students? Um. No. Occasionally. A candy cane sometimes. I’ve gotten mugs, a few picture frames, and a shot glass (yes, seriously), and a scorpion in a keychain. That was way cool. It’s OK. I don’t expect them…it was just funny to me that she thought we all got tons of stuff…she was in a private school in Seattle. Much different group of students.

So tonight I needed to do art stuff. The pile of pieces that are cut out is getting bigger…

Although it doesn’t feel anywhere close to done…and it’s not, at 5 1/2 hours. I suspect there’s another 6 or so hours to go. I wanted to be further along. I always want to be further along. I’m a little driven. I don’t know why. I mean, yes, there is a deadline and I have to get it and the other quilt done and photographed by a certain date, but it’s more than that. It has been for a long time. It’s worse now, like this is the only thing I have…and it has to mean something after all the shit I’ve been through. There has to be something that I can look at and say, yes, that was worth the time, the effort…because other things I have put that time and effort into? They either have failed or they don’t make me happy. At one time, the art made me happy. I hope it will again. Sooner rather than later.

And the pile of leftover bits is also getting bigger…

Usually I throw it away every night, but it’s showing me something. Progress. I need to see that at the moment. Everything else is such a crazy mess: the house, Christmas plans, school, life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness. At least one thing should be easy to look at and see progress.

Today was easier…spent time with the close family, my brother and his crew, parentals, and my own two monsters.

They don’t make me answer hard questions (much). Girlchild is going to be a mess tomorrow…no cousins, no dad…he flies to the UK tomorrow for two weeks. That will be hard on her more so than the rest of us. Jake will be here, for those who remember his exploits in escaping. We’ll have to see how that goes…hopefully he will curtail his awesome love for me and only jump up on me two or three times a day.

Some family member at the party yesterday gave the two male cousins each one of these…

Which of course they loved…but we decided that the TSA would NOT love them and so they were handed to me to ship to them with their (obviously going to be late) Christmas presents…which meant that my kids bogarted them as soon as we got home and proceeded to shoot each other all over the house and lost one of the bullets, but we think we can get a 30-pack, plus now I know what Santa is putting in their stockings. It was seriously dangerous around her for a while (they are nerf bullets…no real damage). I think Santa is sending extra bullets to the boys too…at least that’s what he told me.

Although he couldn’t explain this warning sticker on the guns…

These are Zombie Blasters, by the way. Apparently you shouldn’t shoot them near books. Or books are dangerous. Or you shouldn’t shoot them in libraries. Or if you shoot them, you will be attacked by books. Not sure.

Anyway. It’s a busy week. I will try to hold to exercise, meditation, and art on a daily basis. The thought of having to cook for real every night and schedule around multiple soccer games and juggle everything under the sun with no help is a little daunting, but hell…I’ve been doing it for years. Hence my stress levels. Working on that. It reminds me that I never had the help I really wanted. It wasn’t available. It’s on my list for next time, if there is one. Of course, knowing what you want and actually getting it are two separate things that rarely meet. Everything is so complicated. I think I’d rather just deal with my quilts for now. They’re complicated, but they’re MY complicated. I can handle that. I made that.

In the Dark Backward and Abysm of Time

Shakespeare? Why not. I’m reading a book about World War II and time travel…Shakespeare was quoted. I don’t know yet if I like the book…but I liked the phrase. It’s a good description of trying to look back and figure out what happened in your life…and of what the brain does in depression. Of where you are. Of how hard it is to get out.

I worked on the drawing again tonight…

It’s not done and now it needs another page below it. I don’t know what it means. It’s about getting old…the body aging. It’s about depression. It’s about being in the dark backward. That would be a good name for a quilt: The Dark Backward. Missy’s in it. Lots of my animals show up in my quilts. They have wings when they die. I guess that symbolism is obvious. This one needs Christmas lights too, but first I have to figure out the sides. You can’t see in this picture, but the paper is sideways and there’s a lot of space on each side. I think I was originally going to have her sitting with her elbows on her knees, but now she’s not. I don’t know what’s going on now. I just know I need to draw down more. Then maybe I can figure out the sides. Dream about it. It’ll come.

I also spent some time going through two of the smaller sketchbooks, marking drawings for smaller quilts. I may go copy some of those this week, although…deep breaths about this week. Not worrying about what hasn’t happened, but planning would help, and I’m not doing a good job of holding my head together well enough to do that. The big extended family Christmas party was today…not fun. It’s OK. I only cried twice…so I managed control best I could…until I meditated, and then it all fell out. I cried through the whole thing. He wants me to reflect on my pattern of breath, which is freakin’ impossible when you’re sobbing, because your breathing is so completely fucked. Yeah. So.

I’ve completed 100 days of meditation. I think it’s helping. I don’t know if it’s that which gives me some distance, or if it’s the depression dampening all emotions except sad. I’m less reactive. But I’m going to say (and hope) it’s the meditation.

I have lots of good family photos from today. Somehow I managed that. I didn’t socialize much. I’ve never been good at that, even with my own relatives, but today I was fragile and couldn’t handle much of anything. Oh well. Moving on. Family photos will follow when I have time to go through them all.

Girlchild drove up and back, so I sewed some more…

Damn crazy birds will never be done. I think they’re almost all sewn down. I have 5 soccer games to go to in the next week; that’s a lot of potential sewing time. I also heard for the first time my daughter’s mom voice, as her cousin was kicking the back of her seat and she chastised him. That was amusing.

I know what my counselor will ask me about the party: “Did you have fun?” Not really. I enjoyed some moments, like the boychild analyzing pie cutting and giving me the physics equation for whether his cousin could be thrown down the cliff by a gust of wind. But I rarely have fun there. In 46 years, I think I’ve missed 3 of them: one year I was in the UK, one year I was pregnant with the boychild and really sick (he was born a week after Christmas, two weeks early…I spent most of the day asleep on the couch), and the one year two months after my husband and I separated…I just couldn’t handle it. I sent the kids with their grandparents. I was actually sick too, so I had a good excuse…really sick. But I also didn’t want to go. It’s the sense of failure, I fucked up, I couldn’t do it right. I have that now too. But then the smart part of the brain kicks in and reminds me of my kids and how amazing they are and my art and even sometimes my students, and I think I haven’t fucked up totally. I think that’s the hardest part of this time of year, being around all these couples and families and thinking you did it wrong, that you didn’t mean to do it wrong, but that’s how it turned out, and you really don’t know how to do it right and you’re not sure you ever will.

So I will just get through the holidays, the dark backward. I will just get through.

The sky’s been amazing lately…way more amazing than this photo…I seem to be pretty good at appreciating the sky. It’s hard not to look up at a beautiful sky and feel some sense of relief.

It Is Still So

The great weepy trifecta: dead dog, depression, and PMS…oh wait, it’s a quadfecta (is that even a word? yes, apparently it is, but…I do not think it means what you think it means)…I forgot the stupid holiday season. Just shoot me now. I wanted to get a lot done tonight, but was stymied by pumpkin pie, whipped cream, a bad parking situation, and the girlchild locking her keys in her car…across town…by the time I got home around 7, I was completely braindead and so tired I could barely keep my eyes open. I managed to rally (two cups of tea later) and exercise and meditate and more importantly? I found, designed, and printed my Owl Lover 2014 calendar…if you go here, you can design your own. It’s a nice size for hanging by the computer if you’re a super visual person like me who needs to see the days laid out while I’m lesson planning or art planning or life planning. Plus owls. Arty owls. And you get to pick the 12 you like best. I’m currently looking at December for 2013, chosen in December of 2012, and wondering what the fuck I was thinking, but maybe that’s a learning experience. Anyway. Go make your own. Make one for everyone in the family. Laminate it. Hang it from your rearview mirror. Leave one in a public bathroom. Why not?

I am trying very hard to keep my head on straight. The counselor and I made a plan. Actually, she asked me how I keep my head together and I told her, and she sagely nodded her head and said I was doing all the right things.

OK then. I would like to spend more time hiking and exercising in the next week. I would like to read some more. I would like to be better organized (although holy god, my phone keeps me in check and tells me exactly what I’ve forgotten, usually 5 minutes after I should have remembered it, which is why my computer is still at school even though I need it at home tomorrow…whoops). But seriously, without the calendar, I’d be completely disorganized, instead of just minorly so…which is what I am now. I’d like the house to be cleaner (nice use of passive voice, Kathryn, like someone is gonna clean it for you). Girlchild did help tonight with tree ornaments, but I think we are still only half done. Maybe that’s all it needs to be. I would like more sleep. That’s harder. I don’t seem to be able to rock that well.

I want to finish some drawings and some quilts and get into some shows. I want to mow the lawn. I want to sweep up the leaves. I want to take the cat to the vet to deal with her respiratory goo (I don’t really want to do that…but I need to). I want to clean the hallway carpet so it smells less like Babygirl’s experiments in traveling litterboxing and more like a hallway carpet. Or even a forest floor covered with leaves and fungi. That would be preferable. I want all my questions answered. I want a better camera. I want a road trip to somewhere I’ve never been. I want someone to help me figure out my computer backup system because the disk is full and I don’t know what to do now.

Meditation talks about looking at how we label other people as angry, happy, sad, mean, and how that is squeezing them into the box of our mental projection, instead of experiencing them as they are in the moment. I feel squeezed. Unsqueeze me. Let me the fuck out. Give me some space to…be. The counselor asked me if I remembered how I felt last holiday season…I told her I often reread blog posts from months in the past to figure out what issues I was having and to see if they repeat and to motivate myself to do better, do more (art mostly)…and that I had recently read December 2012 and realized I was happy. Content even. I was enjoying things…not everything…and certainly some things were irritating and stressful, but I didn’t even recognize the person writing. Because I’m not that person anymore and I never can be her again. I can just be like her, similar to her, maybe happy like her, but never her. I will always be her plus this cracked damage glued together and rebuilt to be happy in a different way. Hopefully a trusting way, but that seems hard to see at the moment. Right now it is sad and buried and cracked and damage. It is less so than a month ago, but it is still so.

No pictures tonight. I did no art. I was not productive. I just got through it. Still mourning a dog. Still hoping for better. Sleep calls. I listen and hope it lasts through the night this time.

Reasonable Excuses for Weeping

There are reasons why people cry, good ones and bad. I find myself crying when people give birth on TV…the real thing, not the made-up stuff. Never happened before I gave birth to my own. People tend to give you an out if you’re crying at a wedding or a funeral. It’s OK to cry during a sad movie…a little less OK to cry while reading a sad book, at least in public (although I have done it at the gym…then again, at my gym, no one reads…they all watch TV). It’s OK to cry during a sad song (REM, Everybody Hurts), but probably not while out walking the dog. People look at you strange. PMS makes many women cry, sometimes for good reason, sometimes not one that we understand. Pain makes us cry…understandably…but less so for men, unfortunately, in today’s world. Frustration often makes us cry, although more so as a child…not being able to get what you want forces tears out of those ducts. Sorrow makes us cry…true…for whatever reasons that cause the sad in the heart…death is certainly the big one.

After all that, I mourn the death of my parents’ dog, Missy, who had a brain tumor and had been suffering seizures.

She’s been on this blog on and off for years, and she had a good long life, but it’s still difficult to have loved ones die, even the furry ones who eat poop and pee on the carpet and nip at you when they’re annoyed. She was a good dog, even when she wasn’t being good. She had been so anxious in the last few months…the tumor was probably pressing on something that caused that, or maybe she just knew something wasn’t right. Whatever…she’s OK now.

When I was trying to find a decent picture of her (she always looks a bit psychotic with the two different-colored eyes), I ran past pictures of three other animals of ours who are now dead. It’s been a rough run for animals…most lived good long lives like Missy, but it’s still sad to look back and remember them all. She will be missed.

So today has been a little more weepy than normal…I mean, normal for me now, which isn’t normal. Whatever normal means any more. Meditation has been having me ask myself questions…this week, the question is “How would you feel if you knew today was your last day?’ I always have issues with the semantics of their questions…last week’s really threw me grammatically for a while, but the idea is to watch your emotional reaction each day for a week and see where it goes. Obviously, they are aiming at getting you to see the big picture and stop worrying about the little stuff that’s annoying you, but my brain at first feels for my kids, who would probably be most affected. Today I focused more on the feeling that I’m not very happy at the moment, so it’s not that it feels like I’d be missing out on big happy moments. Kind of a depressing thought…funny that…a depressing thought from a depressoid. It didn’t help to look back at some of those animal photos from the past while looking for Missy pictures…there were many happy moments in there, reminders of happier times, and that hurts. I can hope to have more moments like that in my future, I guess, but it’s hard to see that at the moment. Everything right now is just very flat. Empty.

Every day. Even the ones where I spend some time with friends or go to the gym or make art. Flat. Empty. I’m really starting to dislike that feeling. It is in many ways worse than the sad…the sad is hidden underneath it, like the flat emptiness is a big down comforter, but not in the comfort sense of the word…in the suffocating heavy deadening sense of the word, and sad is squished down small and uncomfortable underneath all that.

It’s this feeling that forces me to do art every freakin’ night. And to draw in meetings. And to write every night. And meditate. And cry. Fucking dammit.

I cut out more pieces…

Doesn’t look like much because it’s not…I’ve done 4 1/2 hours total. Sigh. Wanted to be much further along. It looks a bit better if you look at the trash pile…

but not by much.

This is how fucking morbid I feel at the moment…was at a Christmas dinner with friends who are all older than me, and all I could think is that I would have very few friends left in my old age, because they all will have died before me. Awful thought. Stupid brain. But the whole night was screwed up…girlchild and I are fighting about grades and schoolwork and pies. Yes pies. Don’t ask. And white shirts and family photos and Christmas and stupid shit.

I also, though, spent a lot of time trying to analyze why the iPhone 5s is so much more droppable than the 4 was. I have dropped my phone (which thank god has a case) way more times in the last few months than I dropped my 4 in the entire 2+ years I owned it. I’m analyzing the shape, the slippery nature of the case, the size, the heft. It is none of those things. It is me. I am even a bigger klutz than I used to be. Depression fucks up your brain AND your motor control. Great stuff that. New biological weapon. Unleash depression on the country we are warring against. No need for bloodshed…just make them really sad and they will just burn down their houses by accident and run into other cars and drop their phones, and we will just win the war like that.

I managed another batch of ornaments on the tree…

not done. Or maybe it is. Depends on how I feel about it.

And if we’re depending on my feelings, odds are they are predictably sad. I try to associate happiness with Christmas lights and trees and ornaments. I will have to cultivate that feeling.

Meanwhile, I’m going to take my other reasonable excuse for weeping, depression, to bed. Yes, depression is a perfectly valid reason to weep. It would be better NOT to have that weighing on you each night, and as soon as I can make that choice and get out from under it, I will. But for now, I will just carry it around…I don’t seem to have a choice in the matter.

Yeah. I Know. Whatever.

Crying in the morning? Sheesh. Thanks brain. Stop repeating the same phrases over and over. You need to get through the week without all this trauma. It’s only Wednesday. You shouldn’t be panicking yet. Yes, the Have-To list is huge, scary. I hear Julie telling me to Be Brave over and over in my head, but I don’t have Brave left. I just have Survive. Survive will work for this time of year…it usually does. I remember to breathe.

Buried in meetings doesn’t help…I’m having real problems with afternoon meetings at the moment. It’s never been my best time of day…I’m fine if I’m standing, but if I sit down, my body thinks it’s time to nap. I’ve always had this issue with afternoon staff meetings. My solution was to draw…it’s the same thing I did in school when I had afternoon classes (or if the class was really boring). I drew all over the agenda, in the margins, wherever. At one point, I drew on my feet and on someone else’s jeans (high school and college). Drawing keeps enough of my brain focused so I won’t fall asleep. It entertains the part that gets in trouble otherwise.

So in today’s union meeting, while taking copious notes on the meeting so I could repeat the info to my team, I drew…

I didn’t really have a plan when I started with the turtle, and it just went from there. It kept my brain occupied for about 45 minutes (in between the notetaking). When I put the drawing away, the woman sitting next to me asked what I was drawing. OK. YOU look at the drawing above and tell me what you would have said. My answer? “Lots of things.” She was offended. Like she thought I was blowing her off. Girlchild said I should have just shown it to her, but I wasn’t in the mood to explain anything. Whatever. People have the expectation that artists want to share everything we do because we hang art up on the walls (or put it on a pedestal or suspend it from a bridge…whatever), but sometimes I’m just drawing and it’s not yours just because I’m an artist and share some of my stuff. I’m pretty private about my drawings until they’re done…or sometimes until they’re actual quilts. Ironic that I say that, because I put them on here all the time…but that’s not the same as you in person asking me about it. There’s some distance here. I’m really talking to myself anyway…because I need to spend more time doing that? Yeah. I know.

Or maybe I was just tired and misread her tone and look. I think she said, “I see.” But in that tone. I know. Whatever. Meditate your way past other people’s responses. Just deal with your own response. The drawing helped me in the moment. That’s all I needed it to do, and it was successful.

Because otherwise I would have had to say that I was drawing a turtle with a cat on its back and a bust of some woman whose hands weren’t really attached with a sunflower growing out of her shoulder and a UFO buzzing her head, as she flicks a fish out across the eyeball tree that is growing out of the turtle’s head, as a volcano erupts and a bird tries to avoid the lava and ash, and a small thorn bush grows out of a rocky landscape. And that just wasn’t going to fly. Plus I don’t think I could have said that with a straight face.

This was after a long day at school of presenting, duty, chasing down my errant computer cart (apparently reserving it is not enough). Technology frustration today as the server again crashed. The new system we’ll be using next year in February or so will not have this problem because it won’t go through the server. God knows what problems it WILL have, but that won’t be one of them. I am the Queen of Adaptation, though…we made it work. The next 5 days of school will be a lot of adaptation on my part and my students’ parts as they get a big project done for science. Fun stuff. Solving the world’s problems.

Speaking of solving the world’s problems, Sion posted a link to this video describing depression as a black dog…it’s really well done…

Mine is never a black dog. It’s a cloud or a hole…or both. I like dogs too much to saddle them with that. I usually feel like I’m in a hole. It’s cold and muddy most of the time. Sometimes it’s very quiet, but not in a comfortable way. Sometimes everything is muffled and I can’t hear anything right, let alone feel it right. Occasionally something pokes through and really hurts, but mostly it’s like being wrapped in cotton balls…again, not in a good way, but sort of a suffocating way. I wonder how long it will be like this. I do all the right things. Good Kathy. Bark.

Yeah. Whatever.

I’m managing Christmas decorations at home (I still have Halloween up at school…if it weren’t for Janet, I wouldn’t have any appropriate holiday decorations at all in my classroom) very very slowly. We got the tree and I got the lights up. I managed the mantle yesterday evening. Tonight I did 10 ornaments. At this rate, I’ll be done by January 10. Maybe some kid will stop by the tree and hang some things. You never know.

I had this discussion in my head of highlighter colors. I like orange and blue. Purple is too dark. Yellow and pink just suck, but I’d rather use pink than yellow. I used 10 colors of whiteboard marker at school today. That made my day a little better. Stupid stuff. I didn’t even know I had two shades of brown. The teacher just wants to color.

It was pajama day at school today, my favorite day of the year. So comfortable. I even went to the meeting after school with them still on.

I’m hiding from my email at the moment. Trying not to read anything from anyone. Hiding from Facebook. Hiding from school email. Can’t handle anything rocking my boat emotionally. Not feeling stable. Just feeling. Meditation says if we never acknowledge and spend time with the bad feelings, we won’t really understand the good. I do believe that. I know people who think they never feel bad, never feel cranky or irritable when they obviously do. I am less cranky now…the sad doesn’t leave much room for anything else. It’s kinda big. Encompassing. Overwhelming.

I cut out pieces tonight. I didn’t have the energy to draw the rest of last night’s drawing…

Maybe tomorrow night. I didn’t cut out very much…I didn’t have much time.

The leftovers are sometimes more interesting anyway.

We’re worried about Calli tonight. She is in pain from something…hard to tell whether it is her hips (she has a bad dysplasia and will need surgery sometime in the future) or her stomach or something else. We’ve decided to watch and wait until tomorrow morning. Trying to fit a vet visit in right now is a little crazy. I have so many things on my work/home calendar that I probably shouldn’t attempt sleep at all…until the 22nd maybe.

She couldn’t get up onto the girlchild’s bed, which is where she always sleeps. We couldn’t even lift her up…it hurt her too much. Hopefully it will be better tomorrow morning. Poor baby.

Looks like I will have a piece in Ojai, California, February-March. I had to look it up on the map. Besides knowing it was in California, I drew a total blank. More on that later…for now, I need to try to sleep. More sleep good. Maybe then I can hold off the morning weepies.

Braindead…

I’m feeling more and more braindead this season. Intellectual conversation? With whom? Occasionally a kid or two, but on nights when they are with their dad, the conversation is missing. I talk to the cats. I read. I talk to nothing human. Seriously…I have talked to no one since 5:25. Before that, it was the guy at Petco who wanted to know why I looked so tired (gee thanks mister). That’s it. I joined some groups where I might be able to get some of that conversation, but it’s hard to fit it in to days when I don’t get to the gym until almost 6 PM. Am I really thinking I’ll be going out after I work out, shower, and eat? That’s after 9 PM? Yeah. Not happening. The non-gym nights are taken up by kid stuff and soccer games.

Then I realized it’s already December 10 and I haven’t dealt with Christmas much…I usually send a letter (um. yeah.) and I need to do the online shopping like very soon. Plus there’s all the holiday parties with potluck stuff, because I have time to cook as well. Sigh. I’m not a fan of this time of year. I say no to lots, but there’s some things I just can’t get out of.

So once I had finished the gym and feeding the body (don’t really care much about food any more), I had an internal debate between the brain that wanted to draw and the brain that was worried about getting everything cut out before Winter Break. Drawing won.

It’s been a while. I have about 17 drawings in my head. I’ve taken notes on some of them; they’re on my phone. This one obviously isn’t done. More crone/menopausal stuff. I do have a couple more in the sketchbook that I still haven’t finished, though. I need some concentrated time to draw without other things weighing on me (cough school cough). I’m already thinking ahead to what’s next, trying to make plans.

I’m hoping to finish the quilting of the Love quilt sometime in the next week (it’s probably only an hour or two), plus finish cutting out all the Celebrating Silver pieces. There’s a soccer tournament right before Christmas that will eat up a ton of time…I’d like to have the quilt all ironed down before Christmas, but I’m not sure I can pull that off. I need to have the Silver piece done by the end of break. I think I want to do a couple smaller pieces to start the new year, but there are also two larger drawings I’d like to make into quilts. BUT, I have another piece I have to finish by November as well. I haven’t drawn it yet…maybe my goal over break is to just get it drawn. I think I’m OK on time even if I toss another big quilt in there somewhere.

Of course, reality usually kicks my ass, so we’ll see. I like to make plans, though. People always tell me how impressed they are by how much I get done. I write it down. I have time spreadsheets in my head. I hold myself accountable here. I probably chastise myself for not getting stuff done too much…obsessive? Yeah. I guess. It’s a drive, though. It’s so strong, I feel sick when I don’t make/create. It’s worse now…miss one DAY, and I start to get antsy, like I’m coming out of my skin. It really is my sanity at the moment.

I finished Kevin Hearne’s Hexed tonight…

It’s the second book in the Iron Druid Chronicles…easy but interesting read…vampires, werewolves, druids, witches, and a variety of gods and goddesses…always fun. Quick to read and enjoyable. Not sure what book is next on the list…there are quite a few. There’s another book club book, plus the third book in a series I’m reading, plus I don’t know what else. Hard to choose sometimes. I have about 6 real live paper books on hold at the library, some are on their way for pick up and some are hold 43 of 280. I don’t know when I’ll see that one. Then I have another 4 books on hold through the online library, which is the same library but a separate lending system, which is often confusing. Then the girlchild has a couple real live books for me to read and wants to loan me a series of three or four books that are on her Kindle, which means I have to be able to read them within 14 days, because that’s how long she can loan them to me. Confused yet? I am. I see so few people reading these days…except for Facebook and email. It’s sad. I love reading.

I also seem to be getting back into reading graphic novels, partially because of NetGalley, but also because I just like them. I don’t have the money to go to the movies as much as I used to, so this is the next best thing, when I can find them free…which is hard sometimes, because I like the more alternative stuff and it tends NOT to be available that way.

Anyway. I blame my braindead status on reading and drawing tonight. Oh and the gym. I don’t know if braindead is good or bad. I did meditate too…it talked about change. Do I want it? Yes I do. I just don’t know how or when. That’s always the problem, though, isn’t it? I don’t want to change so much that I am no longer making art or spending time with the kids. I don’t need something big. I need a change IN me more than outside…a change in how I feel about life, because this isn’t fun. But that’s the harder thing, isn’t it? Being able to change this cloud over me, the hole I’m in…that’s just slow and plodding. There’s no magic wand or pixie dust for that. Meanwhile, my brain is blank. Maybe it’s just tired. Try again tomorrow.

Apparently Balanced

My brain is kind of drained at the moment. All the activities of the day have sucked out any relevant thoughts for now. I had plenty of them before. I’m not sure where they went. Maybe they got bored and wandered off.

It was a really busy day. I have duty before and after school for two weeks, which tends to suck up a lot of time and energy (morning duty at the tables? Makes me want to shoot myself. It’s early, I’m not really awake, it was bloody freezing this morning, and it’s all about picking up trash and their high energy vs my incredibly low energy at that hour and temperature…they win). We had a meeting about students, then I had tutorial after school, which is like herding peeing puppies who are constantly yapping and snapping at each other. I did manage to get work out of them today, though. Miraculous. It restores my faith every time they do that…I guess that’s why I can teach, because I constantly believe they can do it if I just work hard enough to persuade them to do it…and many of them DO. Freaky. We have meetings galore in the next two weeks to deal with kids and grades etc…which sucks up a lot of time too.

After school, I booked it to the girlchild’s soccer game. I’m actually glad I was only there for the last 27 minutes, because I almost froze in that short period of time, even though I remembered boots, two sweatshirts, and gloves (two sweatshirts were not enough). Plus I was trying to sew and had to take the gloves off. Mistake.

Home to make dinner…oh no, no you don’t…back to the ex’s house to retrieve Biology book and practice shorts while girlchild tries to get her head (and nauseous stomach) ready for tons of homework. She literally has tons of homework. Realized today that with ex gone for two weeks, I will have to provide dinner EVERY NIGHT. What the fuck? Shit. Not ready for that. Can barely manage what I’m doing now. Would let the girlchild cook, but she is buried in schoolwork. Need Meals on Wheels for busy working mom.

Made dinner, had argument (discussion? is it ever a discussion with two teenagers or is it always an argument?) about sexist portrayals in fiction. Read some examples. Confirmed sexism. Don’t know if I care…the books are good so far. Did grades for a while, then onto the bike for nightly exercise, followed by meditation aka crying and breathing. At the same time. A feat unknown to man? Well sure, but woman is pretty damn good at it. Then finally…49 minutes of cutting out pieces…

I’m only 3 1/2 hours in. I’m not getting much time at night at the moment. Sucks. Not home enough. Anyway, I’m doing it. The green? Lungs. Yup. Aren’t your lungs green with pink flowers? I’m sure mine are. There are some bitchy pieces to cut out in that bin. If I’m tired, I just cut out the easy pieces and leave the hard ones for when I’m more awake. I think I’m hoping cutting fairies will come by and do those. I guess that’s unlikely.

Busy. Tired. Telling the brain to fuck off. Half of my brain says one thing, thinking logically, making plans and decisions, seeing the Big Picture. The other half is a fucked-up mess and is just flailing around in emotional crap so deep it can’t get out. It wants to draw. I almost let it tonight, but then I saw how late it was. Need to sleep. Maybe I will have time to draw tomorrow night…I’ll be minus the tutorial, the soccer game, and the grading…or will I? Huh. But I will add the gym. Another time sucker, but definitely a good cause. Trying to just sit in the emotional half of the brain and let it do what it needs to do. Either I’ll understand it more or the emotions will be less of an issue. Or something. Meditation helps. Even when I sit there thinking about 1-2 1/2 hours spent every night meditating and exercising, I wonder if that’s sustainable…it has to be. If it keeps me sane, keeps me moving, keeps me calmer, it’s worth it. So just do it. My priorities have changed. More art, less school. Less work at home. More exercise. Meditate. Fewer people (that might not be a good thing). Apparently cry…that’s a daily thing. I could do without that one. Wonder if I ever will.

This morning, as I was updating some of the website, I was feeling all cranky about only getting into 7 exhibits in 2013, but then I realized that it was 8 exhibits, and I already have pieces in 4 shows in 2014 and 2014 hasn’t even started yet. So shut up, stupid brain. You’re doing fine. Stop being such a mope about stuff. Make the work. The shows will come. And if they don’t? You will still make the work. That’s the logical half talking to the emotional half. They don’t really get along at the moment. The logic is frustrated with the emotion, and the emotion thinks the logic doesn’t listen…because hey, most of the time it doesn’t.

Here’s a video Luana Rubin of eQuilter did of the SAQA exhibits at IQF Houston, including People and Portraits…

You can decide if that quilt is truly whimsical, or just plain old disturbing. Funny that it’s about being Fully Medicated, but I keep trying to get away from meds, and I keep having to take more. I should do one called Over Medicated, except I’m not. I have this Tshirt that says USDA Organic…which is ironic, because I’m not organic…I’m full of meds that keep my systems apparently balanced because my body doesn’t know how to, even though for half the ailments I have, I was told if I lost the weight, they would all go back to normal. Fucking liars. Well, the meds are supposed to keep everything balanced, but I don’t think I’m there yet…I’m freezing again. Under Medicated also might be fun to draw.

Apparently balanced: despite all the mindfucks that are going on at the moment, I seem to have found a balance between art and work that is somewhat functional: basically do very little grading at home. Do art every night. If there’s a question about how to use my time? Art wins. That’s sustainable. I hope.

That Road Is Burnt Out…

Remember those mornings, few and far between since becoming a parent, the ones you used to covet…dozing in the morning? Not awake yet, but you don’t have to be awake either, half dreaming. Those are my enemy now…that’s when my brain dreams stuff I don’t want to dream, stuff I can normally push to the back of my brain and ignore, because honestly why waste time on stories like that, trying to answer the whys…there’s no fucking point now in knowing the whys. Even my counselor said it would be helpful for me, though, since it makes it even more difficult to traverse my own healing with none of the questions answered. But if you realize, again, that there is only one person you have to deal with for the rest of your life, maybe what other people think doesn’t matter…of course, that’s not true. Which sucks. So the morning. It kicked my ass. But I got up anyway. The cable guy was coming to fix something. I had to be up and showered. Probably a damn good thing, because I’m not sure what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been coming.

I slept badly. Which also sucks. Damn cats. Damn brain, mopey piece of shit. Damn life…damn job. OK, but my students decided Friday was National Hug Day (it wasn’t) and about 30 of them hugged me. I think it was a conspiracy. My counselor was trying to talk me out of a label someone else gave me, of being negative, and she finished by telling me those kids wouldn’t be hugging me if I were at core a negative thinker…kids don’t like that. She’s right…it wasn’t me. I may be cynical, but I’m not inherently negative. Depressed? Damn straight. That’s fixable. I hope.

We’re still working on my stress reaction. I do all the right things (exercise, meditation, get outside, see people, write about it, try and manage whatever the fuck is causing it)…I’m missing the stress relief that comes from being in a good relationship, but the goal is to be self-sufficient, to cope with high stress without being reliant on someone else for how you feel. I don’t trust anyone else right now anyway and probably won’t for a while, so I should probably become even more independent than I already am? Except I was told I was too independent. I don’t know where to draw the line…independent as fuck on certain things, vulnerable and willing to get help on others? Confusing. Wish I could just go back to sleep…quiet sleep, no stupid dreams that wake me up sad and confused.

Meditation talks about the intellectual vs the emotional…the intellectual tries to fix what’s causing the emotion, ties it down and tries to get a confession out of it. In meditation, I am just supposed to rest in the emotion. I do. I do that all the time with the sad. I sit right there in the sticky marshmallow sad fluff and let it try to suffocate me. I just cry until the crying stops and the sad is still there, it comes in waves, sometimes so big they almost drown you, but always like a puddle of sad that you’re standing in, every fucking day, rarely do I get out of the puddle. Sticky mud grabbing my feet and keeping me cold. That’s sad. That’s depression. I can hold it off, stand in a mostly dry spot, for a few hours if I’m drawing or sewing…actually, that can be problematic. I sewed today and for the first hour, cried. Then I got the alpha waves. I get there faster at the gym with a good book. The physical drain helps more than the art drain. I need a treadmill with a sewing machine…

I did Quilting Impossible today: dark navy blue thread on dark navy blue background, right eyelid still twitching off and on, bad blinding light coming and going from cloudy day to sun, crying intermittently, blocking all necessary vision. Really stupid. But eventually it got me out of the stupid place. Remember how I said Sunday was going to be mean to me, fight me about getting art done? That’s why I quilted this morning…

for an hour and a half…

probably got a third of the way through the background quilting.

That bit has a lot of hair on it, fluff maybe too, which is why one of these is always on my machine…

A roll of packing tape for picking up hairs before I quilt over them, best I can. I remember going to the mountains once and forgetting that. Big mistake. Had to pick out all those hairs by hand. Pain in the ass. So the number-one use for packing tape in my house is not taping up packages…just so you know. And mostly at the moment, it’s because of this beast…

Who believes tea was put on the Earth for her consumption…

And gets mad at me if I do not allow her to sit where she likes (on the quilt that I’m currently quilting, in case you were wondering). Yup.

I kicked her off three times. She’s a stubborn beast. I bet you can imagine what she’s saying to me right now. Yes, she knows all those swear words.

So I thought I had beat Sunday, that the rest of it would be a piece of cake, because I had planned my day and managed to get myself up and out of bed and deal and actually do art-related stuff. Yeah. Stupid.

First of all, the toaster just died. I’m sure this was God telling me how he disapproves of me. If you actually believe that, please don’t tell me about it. I’m sure it was just its time to go. Deep breaths, though, because that’s more money going out in a month when it seems like I am bleeding cash. No, we cannot survive December without a toaster. Lame, eh? The electric teapot or the fridge will be next. I hope not. So I had to go out on another errand and find a new toaster. Girlchild was doing research at one of the local universities, SDSU, which if you live out here and know where I live, is west of me on the freeway. She had permission to drive, her dad had given her a map, and she was meeting people there. She was supposed to be home at 5. At 5:30, now dark, I called her dad because her phone wasn’t picking up…she’s notoriously bad about charging it. We started trying to call friends, but didn’t have the numbers for the people who were supposed to be with her (yes, we actually had to call one of her soccer coaches to get one number). Time kept going on and we were trying to decide what to do, since no one knew where she was, and she finally called, an hour late…freaking out…crying…from a Barnes and Noble in Mira Mesa (25 minutes north of here…not west…not even on the right freeway) because she had recognized it from my monthly stitching meeting. She borrowed a stranger’s phone and I told her how to get home (yes, I offered to drive up there and she said no). She walked in the door and into my arms sobbing 25 minutes later. Hard to be mad…but easy to be scared, both her and me (and her dad). So we’re revising some rules…but definitely making sure the phone charger is in the damn car is one thing. Scariest part is knowing that we will send her off to college in a year and a half and she will have to negotiate this stuff on her own. Make good friends, kid…meanwhile, we’re also having her memorize the freeway maps of San Diego County…she said the sign for Riverside is what scared her. Yup. So I grew at least 400 more white hairs tonight and my stomach is still a mess and now I’m grinding my teeth (yo, counselor…where do I put this into the stress scale?), but she’s here and safe and hopefully appropriately freaked herself out so she will pay better attention next time to phone and directions. Some things we all need to learn the hard way.

I keep telling myself that. Some things you have to learn the hard way, and apparently over and over again.

So it was a good thing that I had held true to my promise to get the damn tree…

It’s a little frazzled at the bottom, but it won’t be for long…

I started putting lights on it and it smells up the whole house in a good way.

I sat and cut out crazy-ass pieces for the Silver quilt…yes, that is the bottom of a bird wing…owl, I think. Call me crazy. You won’t be the first. Sad, scared, frustrated. It was a day. It tired me out. I’m taking it to bed. Hopefully the early wakeup call for work will scare off all the stupid dreams that betray my heart. Give it up, babe. That ain’t the way to happiness. That road is burnt out and a wasteland. There’s nothing there that will make you happy. Walk on. Once you get through all the sharp pointy rocks and the charcoal, there will be new growth. Next year when you’re putting the lights up, you’ll feel differently. You’ll be looking forward to the boychild coming home from college. It will be different. You will be different. All you have to do this year is get through it the best you can.

The Haiku of Exhaustion

I was too tired last night to even write the Haiku of Exhaustion. I seriously had the whole thing written in my head, but I fell asleep while meditating, and then I decided that multiple nights with less than 5 hours of sleep needed remediation. Intervention. Luckily my brain went along with it, because god knows I’ve thought that before, and my brain doesn’t always put sanity first. But I slept…hard…and well…until Kitten wanted to pee. But that was in the morning. And I had slept…the sleep of exhaustion. Meanwhile, I can’t remember the damn haiku. Maybe I dreamed myself writing it. I’ve dreamed myself writing novels before…dreamed the entire plot and outline and writing it and then woke up and lost it all. I’m probably a pretty amazing person in my dreams.

I drew tonight…

I drew at the South Park Walkabout. Yes. I went by myself. I went Christmas shopping and actually managed One Whole Item off my list. I ran into a friend and her family and got to answer the question of “are you here by yourself?” with clarifying questions twice. I held it together…although at one point I said something about being alone forever. I hope that’s not true, but it’s not off the table…that’s for sure. I did correct myself. I guess you’re never alone when you teach middle school. You’re never alone when you have kids…even when they move out. You’re never alone when you’re a cat lady in training. So there we are. Plus in my head, I might never be alone. Yes, her eyes are crooked. I was drawing in the dark…

I was drawing at the Station Tavern. One of the pluses of being alone, dammit, is that it’s easy to find somewhere to sit at restaurants where there is never room for two. The waitress asked if I was alone too (I guess I need a shirt…or a hat…or a sign…yes…yes, it’s just me…alone…thanks for reminding me). Then I got glared down by many bearded hipsters and their leather-clad vixens for taking up space at the table. Whatever, bitches. I was here first and I’m not taking up that much room.

Yes, that is Hipster Santa awkwardly flipping you off. That was what I was drawing to the glaring people. Let the old lady eat her dinner, people. It’s her treat for the month. She deserves it. Be nice.

The food was good. I brought half of it home. I felt OK. Then I got in the car and sobbed the whole way home. Whoops! Oh well. Shit happens. In my case, tears happen. Move on. I came home, built a fire in the fireplace, meditated, and started writing this post in that room (it’s warmer than this room…I’m in my office with my sweatshirt hood on my head, wishing I knew where my fingerless gloves were right now.).

So tonight was marginally better than last night…I cut out fabric pieces last night for a whopping 17 minutes (OK, that’s more than I did today). Work stuff got in the way…work holiday party. Sigh. Such a complicated thing, my work existence. Yes, the eyelid is still twitching. The last two weeks before break…brains are mush. Grades. Sigh. Wish I still had that mental buffer against work issues that I had back in September. But now our team has been approved for the first round of one-on-one computers, rolling them out in February or so. Deep breaths. I’ll get my head around it during Winter Break. We’ll have tablets for monitoring the kids and their work. And somehow magically everything I teach is going to migrate to the web. In three months or less. Yeah. And the Easter Bunny still exists. Santa too.

Today was gym, rain, soccer, rain, and errands, and yelling, and wow. Girlchild’s whole game was in a monsoon, I think.

OK, this was in between monsoonal bursts…there was one before the game even started. I went and sat in the car and graded during that one, only coming out about 5 minutes before the game started. Then we had about three downpours in the first half…

But I stitched through them.

I didn’t stitch much. My hands were cold and I was trying to keep stuff dry. I had the big umbrella, but it’s not made for rain…only sun…so it leaks. And then the rain was going sideways for a while…

It’s really a miracle I wasn’t more soaked through…

It’s blurry because of the rain. The monsoonal rain.

The girlchild made a really nice left-footed shot at the goal…she’s on the right with her leg in the air. Everyone is looking towards her, and I can’t figure out where the ball was.

It was cold and wet, but at least I wasn’t in the mud like some people.

I’m in charge of laundry. Away games they always wear white. Nice. The friend I saw at the Walkabout said Martha Stewart would have a recommendation for removing the mud stains from the socks…they do always seem to come out of the shorts, but not the socks (different materials). Sigh.

Anyway, they won. This is a pre-official-high-school season tournament…two more games next week and then semis and finals on Saturday, which ought to be interesting, since that’s the extended family party. Not looking forward to that either. Except I’ll get to grade or stitch in the car on the way up. Sometimes I have to focus on the little things that please me…like Christmas lights…

Which is my favorite part of this season. The trees and lights…

I draw those lights all the time. Seriously, they’re in lots of my quilts. I tried to explain why once, but I don’t really know why. The mood? The color? The shape? The long string of them that can be wrapped around things? Don’t know. They’re just there. I don’t think of them as sinister, but as safe. Happy even? Maybe. I don’t know that I can qualify anything as happy.

I finished a book today, The Round House by Louise Erdrich.

I’ve always liked Erdrich’s books. Most of this book was amazingly good…there was some drifting off into history or something that lost me for a while today. It deals with conflicting federal, BLM, state, and Native laws regarding rape on Native land (or land that has territory issues, as in the book, where literally take a step one way, and it’s federal law, a step the other way, and it’s not). Her books aren’t happy, but there are happy moments. There are also tragic ones and painful ones, but there is always a good dog. It was a good book.

I like to use the cover of the book I actually read when I post about books. Strangely anal, I know. Whatever. I read it as an ebook, too, so even less relevant. So that’s the cover I had. Then I saw this cover…

Interesting. The snake? The tree? The religious connection…tenuous. I do like the graphic quality.

And then there was THIS cover.

This is my favorite, although probably also not relevant. The book is about the plight of raped Native American women, but told from the perspective of a 13-year-old son of a rape victim…so the cover is good, but? I don’t know. Maybe relevant. I have now officially caught up with all the Erdrich books I had missed in the last 8 or 10 years. I need my reading app to tell me when my favorite authors have a new book out. It sort of does, but I have to remember to click through. And then I don’t like to list a bunch of books in my To-Read list…I don’t know why, really. Because I’m afraid I will end up with a giant list of books to read and no time to read them? I do have a list…it’s on my phone. It’s just not in the app. I have to think about that…consider why I’m resisting using that function. It might be really useful. Maybe.

Anyway. That tired sleep thing is back. I got no art done today. It was a lost day. Not really, because I did a lot, but the art centers me. So I will have to make time for it tomorrow. Wow. Tomorrow just laughed at me. It doesn’t think I can do it. Well, fuck you, tomorrow. I’m a stubborn old bitch and now you’ve gotten me pissed off…so there WILL be art tomorrow (hopefully more than 17 minutes of it, but you never can tell). Sleep first though.

Sew Together the Days

You know, I used to get really excited when I’d finish picking the fabrics for a quilt…it was a turning point past really the most difficult part of the visualization. I basically color the whole drawing in my head and hold it there until I finish ironing, sometimes for days, sometimes weeks, occasionally months (really hard and not recommended). That said, it is also probably the most creative part of the quilt, besides the drawing itself. I can’t actually SEE the finished quilt, but each fabric is going to go with the one next to it and behind it and make the image in my head. It’s challenging…I need mental energy of a certain type to do that step, but it’s also somewhat meditative. I get lost in my alpha waves for at least some of it and it brings me some peace…sometimes even joy when I finish a particularly difficult section, especially like flesh tones.

Sigh. Not so much any more. There is a certain sense of relief that this stage is done this time, just because I am so tired and stressed right now and this seems to help and also hinder. The need to get it done keeps me up late, and once I’m ironing, it’s hard to stop, and when I do stop, I can’t get my mind to stop. It just wants to keep going. Pros and cons: the high of the creative buzz but the low from not enough sleep and the NEED to keep going. I had more buffers before, more balance, more things to do that would give that part of my brain a break, but also a break from the stress. I don’t have many of those any more.

I finished ironing the fabrics for Celebrating Silver tonight…finishing the owl up.

There were 88 fabrics in this quilt, mostly browns and grays by the look of it. Lots of flesh tones too…

Not in numbers, but in volume. Now I have to cut them all out.

I currently have almost 38 hours into this quilt. It took 13 hours and 12 minutes to cut all the fabrics for about 1250 pieces. Not bad. I usually figure an hour for 100 pieces for that. It will probably take less time to cut them out, although there are some significantly bitchy pieces to cut, if you look at that bin up there…the tips of the owl’s wings, for example. I’m figuring about 10 hours for cutting, and I already have 2 hours in. So maybe I’ll be done by next weekend? You never know. It could happen.

Meanwhile, I did spend time with my stitching friends, geeky stanchions of my sanity. We played with technology, googled Katniss’ cowl/shrug from Catching Fire, which the designer calls “woven, then knitted,” which makes no sense…but whatever…

I think we finally decided that they had woven something and then knitted the woven something together. Or whatever. And all the knitted versions suck.

We talked about stitching and children and Christmas ornaments (I never did look at the damn Just Cross Stitch ornament issue…Kathy will have to bring it back in January). It was a good two hours of not having to be the sad Kathy or the stressed Kathy. I finally restarted the girlchild’s Christmas stocking (originally started in 1997, don’t laugh). I couldn’t find the cream thread at all…it must be hiding somewhere. I must have pulled it for something else, but now I can’t find it. Sigh. This is how we end up with stashes the likes of mine. I lost two pairs of embroidery scissors in the search, but found two other ones, one of which I didn’t even remember owning, sad but true.

It’s a very exciting start. It’s actually fairly large stitches, which helps with my blindness, and I’m actually doing it on stretcher bars. It’s been ON those bars since 1997, so obviously I haven’t needed them. I told the girlchild not to expect it until she turned 21 (she’s 16. I should be able to meet that deadline). Every Christmas she would complain that everyone had a handmade stocking but her. Yes. I suck.

The right eyelid is still twitching, although off and on now. Ironically, I got in a screeching argument with the girlchild before I left for the stitching meeting where I was working on her stocking…OK, she was screeching. I was holding my brain together just barely. Typical for me at the moment. Just barely held together. Just by a thread. Grades. Cars. Something else. I think I knew everything when I was 16 too, so I get it…but I could use a break. I even asked her dad (jokingly, honestly, because I already knew the answer) if he could handle the grades conversation. He said quietly, “It won’t work if I do it.” Dammit. I don’t know if I have the mental strength to lay down the law right now.

I have about three drawings in my brain…not sure when they will be allowed out. Hopefully soon. I have been picking at the Christmas shopping…not happily, but getting it done. I’m buried in Have To and distancing myself from the emotional swamp that is my brain. Let it meditate. Let it psycho dance over there in the corner. I exercised tonight, but not at the gym…I’m scheduling the gym as often as I can. I slog through the days. Too many art show rejections lately. They don’t usually bother me, but at the moment, I could use some encouragement. Is the only purpose to my artmaking to fill the days so I don’t get more and more sad? Or is there actually an audience for my work? Or is it just too damn difficult to process? Who knows. I don’t usually care, but I’m feeling purposeless at the moment. WHY am I doing this again? What do I gain from it? Is it really sanity, because if this is sanity, well honestly, it kind of sucks. I think I need to work on some goals beyond “finish this part of this quilt.” I don’t know what those goals will be, though. because I have to want something to have goals. I’ve given up on wanting, because it just hurts. Wanting is sharp stabby things in the soft parts.

Shitty week. When you feel useless and worthless and like you’re doing it all wrong. I know that’s not true, but I need to find some piece of something that makes it all feel better at the moment. Time for a hike? Wish I had time. Or life drawing would help. Also no time for that. Maybe I just need to go get the Christmas tree…that smell. Sitting with the tree, lights on, in the dark. That always helps my mood.

“Searching for a light, a thread that will connect this moment to that one, a way to sew together the days so that they make sense.” Lauren Oliver, Before I Fall

I’m trying. I suck at it, but I am trying.