Making the Wrinkles…

My eyes are aging. It’s harder to see, but beyond that, the last 6 months have made my eyes LOOK older. I have all these sad wrinkles under my eyes that weren’t there before. I drew them in the Celebrating Silver quilt. I remember not having those wrinkles 6 months ago. Now they are all I see. I don’t really care about wrinkles…some people are very vain about their appearance and I’m really not. But the wrinkles disturbed me. I draw the things that disturb me. You may have noticed. I’ve had three drawings present themselves in my brain in the last three days. I took notes on the images and will maybe draw this week? What a concept. I delivered three quilts to the photographer early this afternoon…he will hopefully call tomorrow about pickup; if not, it will be Wednesday for me. I think. Maybe Tuesday? Can’t remember my schedule. But it’s a good thing.

Then I went to a meeting of one of the art groups I belong to. It took place in a dessert bar next to a gallery space where we will have a performance art/exhibit going on for two months in the fall about the border fence. Being so close to Mexico brings up ideas of crossing borders and what that looks like. I’m having issues visualizing my participation in this project, just because it’s not my normal subject matter and what I do doesn’t necessarily translate to the process they’re suggesting, but I will let me brain run with it for a while. I didn’t volunteer to be a committee leader, because I don’t have the mental energy or the time, but I will be involved somehow. Maybe I will just let someone else tell me what to do instead of having to be in charge.

A high-school friend came to dinner at my parents’ house; girlchild cooked a great meal and we had time to talk. I worked on these at the meeting and before dinner, and finally finished the first month’s squares…

It always takes longer than you think it should. I think they still need eyeball buttons, but that’s it. I did start the embellishment on the second month as well…actually, I had already done the beige background stitching on them. Anyway, there’s only one soccer game this week because the kids have finals, and I’m not even sure I am going to that game…there’s a meeting I think I have to go to…cannot be three places at once…no matter how much I try.

Grades? Well, I worked on them last night for a while and again tonight. I’m actually further ahead than I expected to be at this point, so that’s good. I also worked on the journal I need to finish for Earth Stories…it’s getting closer to done, despite Word’s attempts to mess with me via formatting and whatever crap Google Docs seems to have embedded in the original file. I know this stuff should be easier, but it’s not today.

Tomorrow, I will finish grades (which might take hours honestly), label the quilt that needs to be delivered this week, find and pack up the quilt that needs to be delivered next week, possibly pack up the quilts that need to be shipped and maybe even ship them…can’t ship the notebook with them anyway. Might as well get them out of here. There’s other paperwork I need to get through as well, and then financial aid stuff really does have to get done.

But I don’t want to go from art every day to no art at all. I know how bad that feels and I don’t want to let my mood get any worse…it was bloody awful this morning and it was just stupid stuff that set me off, got me crying in the grocery store and not just a little bit, and then I couldn’t get it under control, and there’s only so long you can stare at the Brussels sprouts with your head down so your hair blocks any view of your eyes, trying to get the tears to stop coming. I don’t get it. It’s like automatic sprinklers. Maybe it’s some sort of mental let down from finishing the quilts, from the stress of trying to get them done. Maybe it’s because the Brussels sprouts were in such bad shape. Who knows.

So I could have kept grading for another hour tonight, but I made myself stop and I started taping the smaller drawings together again…

I have 10 taped together and another 10 or so to do. Yes, that’s a lot. They’re small. It’s kind of crazy, actually, but I wasn’t capable of deciding what to do next when I copied them. I just went through about 3 or 4 of the smaller sketchbooks I’ve used over the last 4 years or so and marked the ones I liked or that I thought were good candidates. The problem is that the smaller drawings seem less serious to me, less about something, less issue-driven. Most of them happened while waiting for a movie to start or sitting in a coffee house or waiting for dinner. They didn’t have a specific purpose, no image came to mind beforehand, they are literally brain vomit. And sometimes it’s related to where I was or what I was doing before or after, but mostly they’re just random. So how do I pick one? I feel like it needs to have meaning. I don’t know why I feel that way. It seems like my life is such a crazy mess that at least my art has to mean something, to have a purpose, to have a message. And I don’t know if any of these small drawings has a good enough message. Plus they’re kind of painful to look at, because they are reminders of a life I don’t have any more. So that kind of sucks.

Sigh. I wanted to do a smaller one (or two) before starting the next big one, but maybe I just need to suck it up and go big again.

I think I’ll tape up the rest of them and then make a decision…probably not until tomorrow night or Tuesday even. I really do need to get grades done first. Damn job. Gets in the way of the art. I should do something about that (like win the lottery and become financially independent so I don’t have to go to work any more? Yeah, like that).

OK. I am really tired. Sleep. Hopefully sleep. Maybe it’s that lack of sleep thing that’s making the wrinkles…

At the End…

My mood is low. It probably isn’t particularly helpful to be reading a huge long book about World War II in London during the Blitz. I keep reading up on depression and tactics for getting the hell out of it. I know I’m doing everything I’m supposed to, mostly, except it’s funny…they recommend getting more sleep and eating right, but admit that two of the significant symptoms of depression are the inability to sleep well (either it’s too much or interrupted or too little) and digestive issues (eating too much or too little, or just differently). So I should fight the symptoms by pretending they aren’t there? And it’s depressing in itself to realize that you are doing everything you’re supposed to be doing, but it doesn’t seem to be helping. Am I doing it wrong? Probably.

I just keep doing. It will hopefully eventually work. I’ll wake up one morning with fairy dust sprinkled everywhere and the world will be sparkling and new and everything will be pretty and happy and full of butterflies and nice smells.

Sigh. I’d settle for waking up and not thinking, “Oh God. Another day to get through.”

My ex guilt-tripped me today for not having sent out the kids’ school and soccer photos to his mom before she died. Little does he know that I already felt bad about that, that I had started a letter to her about 5 times and couldn’t manage to write anything about my life and the kids’ lives in the last 6 months. I didn’t know what to write. I didn’t send a Christmas letter this year either. Same deal. How to summarize months of depression and grief? You can’t…not without sounding really fake or whiny or pitiful or pathetic…and maybe I am all of those things, but I didn’t want to put it down on paper (says the woman who blogs about it every night…I can’t say that it makes sense). So I procrastinated. It’s not the only thing I’ve procrastinated about over the last 6 months. Things that are hard…I just can’t summon the energy or motivation to deal with them. I’m trying very hard to stay on track with the financial aid stuff for college, because I have to. Same with school, although I’ve let some things slide with that…nothing crucial. I’m a perfectionist when it comes to work, so it’s hard for me to let anything go, but I talk to myself about what really matters all the time. Just do what really matters. Let the rest go.

So I told my ex, I’ve been suffering from depression (I’m sure he knows this already) and couldn’t deal with it and many other things in the last 6 months, and I already had a mental conversation with his mom about this in my head and she was OK, she understood. I don’t know if she would have understood or not, but I can’t fix not sending the photos. It’s done. I’m carrying enough guilt at the moment. I don’t need more. And he could have sent them himself. I never seem to attach myself to the people who will DO. They just expect me to DO. And if I don’t, if I can’t, because my brain is messing with its serotonin and dopamine levels and not working properly, then they complain about it or they don’t complain about it, they just feel bad that I’m not DOING and that sucks too. So give me a break. I’m doing the best that I can. And then I handed him all of his photos. I usually put the kid’s name, grade, and date on all the photos, but I didn’t. That’s why I hadn’t finished packing them all up. It was too much like hard work to write all that. Sigh.

I still feel bad.

I got up eventually this morning. I actually got one kid up early (the other one got herself up) and then went back to sleep, because I went to sleep way too late last night. Then I took a cat to the vet…Midnight has some infection and the antibiotic pill I was supposed to be giving her, well she was being evil and spitting it out after we thought she had swallowed it, so she’s not getting better as fast as we’d like. Hopefully the shot they gave her today will help, because otherwise there might be something else going on.

Saw this sign near the vet…

Made me think of Game of Thrones.

When I got home, I started going through my stash of batting, looking for something big enough for this quilt. Sigh. NOTHING. I have lots of weird-sized offcuts, but nothing long enough or wide enough. Damn. I should have figured this out earlier this week. Now I have to waste possible quilting time going shopping for batting. I did find one piece of batting big enough actually…

But I have no idea what it is. I usually use Warm and Natural, but this was something with a scrim in it and loose layers on top…

Not sure why I have it. There is a smallish rectangle cut out of it, but I have no idea what I used it for. Sad but true. I was too paranoid to use something that I wasn’t sure of the results on, so I went and bought more, came home and washed and dried it, and ironed the top and backing while I was waiting…

I have two drawers of pieces big enough for backings and backgrounds, but most of them are old sale pieces that weren’t wide enough. I used a batik for the background, so they run wider than the normal print fabrics by about 4 inches…so I needed a batik for the back as well. I could have used the purple I originally purchased for the front, but I think it will work really well for another quilt, so I saved it…why waste it on a background? I’ve had this batik (off the sale rack) for a very very long time. It’s about time it got used.

And because I had even more time, I started cleaning up the office, putting away all the fabric from this last quilt and straightening up all the mess. There was a lot of mess. There’s still more mess, but it’s better.

By the time I got back from picking the girlchild up from school, the batting was dry and I laid the whole mess out on the entryway floor and pinbasted it. Apparently I only took one very blurry picture of this process, probably because I only had 45 minutes before girlchild would stomp through the entryway with muddy soccer cleats, and I wanted the quilt off the floor by then.

Anyway. I did all that and managed to start quilting between dropping her off amid her many complaints of the car shortage in the house (boychild has piano lessons…I offered to let her have my car and ask her dad or grandpa to take me, but apparently she recognized my plan for the guilt trip I really didn’t mean it to be and let me keep my car). She really likes being able to drive herself places.

I didn’t get far on the quilting. I didn’t have much time before her game.

I took lots of crappy blurry pictures during the game until I realized I was on some crappy blurry setting (why do cameras have settings like that?)…

and then it got too dark to photograph anything (they won 3-1), so I sewed instead.

I finished two more bird feet and about a million pink bullion knots. OK. Not a million…

Not even close. I am still revising my finishing plan for these. Going with the uber-positive, hopeful mood I’ve been in all week (cough cough), I have decided that it will take me a decade to finish three birds, and if I am any faster than that, I am an amazing stitching dynamo and should be worshiped from afar for my masterful stitching skills.

At least I know I can achieve that.

I came home, went to the gym, read about 300 pages of depressing wartime novel (sigh…for book club…even the time travel is boring, because IT’S NOT EVEN HAPPENING), ate dinner, and then quilted for a while.

I’m done with flames and smoke and am up in the rocks…

Tomorrow looks ugly, but hopefully I’ll get a few hours in. That’s my goal anyway, but I need to deal with school stuff too. Yuck. Not ready. Never ready.

I did get the postcards for the new California Fibers show, which will open on January 13 at Soka University in Aliso Viejo, California (Orange County, for those who don’t recognize the name).

I have two pieces in the show…it’s a wide variety of fiber work, from baskets to weaving to quilting to lace netting and dying and lots of cool work. Unfortunately, it’s only open Monday-Friday, so I probably won’t be able to go up until Spring Break…luckily, it’s open through May 8, so that is an option. The opening is Thursday, January 30, from 5:30-7:45, for those who live in the area. This is one of three California Fibers’ shows in the next two months. I have one piece in the show that will open at the Visions Art Museum next month, and we haven’t heard the jury results on the third show yet, which will be in Ojai, California. Anyway, it means lots of getting work ready for exhibit, but also having to finish and ship for two other major exhibits, so if I’m a little stressed out and feeling overwhelmed, that would be why. At least I have a good excuse.

Anyway, sad day. Whatever. Move on to the next one. At the end of it, I’ll have some quilts done. That’s better than most depressoids do…at least I can do that. Make art. At the end of it…reminds me, we are at the end of Winter Break as well. And I’m almost at the end of two quilts. And hopefully boychild finished the last college app tonight because it was due today…we’re at the end of that (but that signifies the beginning of a lot of scary and expensive future shit).

I’m Not Very Magical at the Moment…

Things I said to my sewing machine today (and yes, you’re allowed to say, “Well at least you’re talking to your sewing machine today.” True that.):

1. Why do you have to be such an asshole? Why can’t you just TELL me when you’re going to run out of thread instead of continuing to sew along like a happy jerkwad?

2. Why do you hate me so much?

3. Why can’t you go faster?

I finished stitching down the Celebrating Silver quilt top today…it took 5 hours total, with 4 of them done today.

This is what it looked like before it started…Babygirl was not thrilled about my messing with her sunny spot. I started in the morning after I took my car in for what should have been a simple oil change and turned into a brake job…luckily, my parents could pick me up and bring me back home in between. So I stitched until the first kid got home (minimum day),

then sent him off to get the second kid…then she needed a ride somewhere (she thought she could have the other car, but it was now the ONLY car, so she had to give it up to mom)…so I dropped her somewhere, came back, got the boychild, drove to get my car…

(No, Calli, you are NOT helping)…waited for a while…my car guy is nice but very thorough.

Girlchild texted me for her pickup during my wait at the car place, so I told her to call boychild, who then apparently had to drop off three other teenaged girls (so glad it was not me)…

Which he complained about. Because? Anyway, by the time he got back, I was home and stitching again. I stitched until I had to leave to watch the boychild’s Academic League meet…

He’s on the far left…this picture shows the back of their official shirts. It’s true, too…there were two questions on Mamma Mia! of all things. It was the only musical they knew, besides Cats!. Everything has exclamation marks.

I love how little I know when I go to these things. I did get pseudopod right. They are all carefully listening to the question being read…or they are constipated. Hard to tell. The guy in the white sweatshirt never picked up his buzzer. The guy in the gray sweatshirt knew lots of really weird stuff and would answer before they even finished the question. The guy in orange is a freakin’ math genius. Boychild knows current events and literature, and often argues with Genius Boy about math and science.

I stitched bird feet while I was watching. I have finished 10 bird feet…

I have 50 to go. Seriously. But my goal of finishing 3 every 2 soccer games is so completely not happening. It it were, I would have finished the first 6 at last night’s game, and as you can see, I am nowhere near done. I did not calculate her actual playing time. I get more done when she doesn’t play or when it’s dark, because I can’t photograph in the dark. There’s another game tomorrow night…yes, that’s three in a week. Usually it’s two. This week has been a little crazy. I should finish some of the birds tomorrow night, but not enough of them to meet my crazy schedule. Oh well. Technically, they should have been completely done and sewn together, with the borders done, like a week ago. Uh huh. So there we are. Now I have two male parents at soccer games who are bugging me about the birds and quilting or knitting or whatever it is I’m doing. Freaks.

I came home and cooked and then sewed some more.

At some point, my back was really killing me. I stretched a little. I danced a little (this is really good for relaxing back muscles that have been held in the same tense position for too long). I sewed some more. At some point (OK, many points), I wanted to quit. This is like a marathon. You have to psych yourself into finishing.

And I did.

At some point, it’s just easier to finish than to think about doing more tomorrow.

The back is pretty exciting. It’s kind of ironic, because tomorrow I have to pinbaste it (kneeling on tile floor for at least an hour) and then start quilting (more back pain). And quilting will probably be at least 10-15 hours. Actually, the plus with this piece is that there is very little background to quilt…it’s mostly outlining the image, which will take a while but is not as labor intensive as the background stuff is. Or it’s not as boring. Not sure which. Anyway, my plan is to have it done Saturday. HA! No really. Don’t think about the other stuff that needs to get done in that time period. And yes, I still have a binding to finish on the other one, but I am going to call the photographer. I have faith. In something.

So you’d think I’d feel all good and stuff about getting one step closer to finishing. Mr. Meditation calls it fulfillment…yeah, I remember that feeling, sort of. Far away. I just really get a sense of panic, though, that then there will be unfilled time, time that is not focused on getting a project done that has to get done. I don’t like that. Work doesn’t give me a huge sense of fulfillment. Art sort of does at the moment…not really, though. It feels empty, meaningless on most days. My brain is more at peace when I do art stuff than on the days I don’t. I think it’s a better path towards a decent life than the work path. That’s why I’ve been prepping other quilts for the next stages. I need to have stuff in the pipeline so there’s no down time, time where my brain is all wandering and trying to find a purpose and trying to solve problems and be happy. I don’t know how to be happy at the moment. I would have to be better at acceptance, and I’m not. I mean, I do accept what my life is at the moment, but I don’t like it. And the depression just makes it harder to get through the days. It drags me down. Into a hole. I keep looking for art or books or comics or anything that will pull me out, push the depression back down, carry me out. I feel like I’m missing an instruction manual for the next step, like it’s something magical that no one can explain to me. First you do this and then that and then magic happens! And you get to be happy! That’s what it feels like. And I still cry every day. When does that go away? Is that magic too?

I’m not very magical at the moment.

And that was my chair and my sweatshirt. Now she’s actually sitting on my lap. She scratched the crap out of my face last night, blood everywhere (sounds worse than it looks today…puncture wounds…lovely kitty), but today she is my best friend apparently. Old ladies unite. Sigh.

Guardian Angel

I’m sitting in the parking structure at Radiology downtown. I have 10 minutes before I need to check in. I cried all the way here. I know the odds of there being something really wrong are extremely low, but it doesn’t stop my brain from being upset. I’m not worried, because I know that whatever it is, it already is…something or nothing…I’m just scared. Not too scared to get out of the car…trying to get my eyes to behave, my tear ducts under control. If I look upset, the nurses will be more solicitous and I can’t handle that now. Better that they’re rude so I can be irritated or angry.

They won’t be rude. They never are.

This is the drawing I did back in late June after a followup mammogram.

In June, I had my normal mammogram, and then they called me at school (strangely, I answered) and wanted a followup, but they couldn’t say why. Way to strike fear into a woman’s heart. My doctor called later that day to explain. Whoops. Timing issues. So I went in for the followup (it’s not the first time) and they did 4 or 5 mammograms and an ultrasound and the doctor came in and said there was this thing, deep behind the nipple, but it had been there for three years without changing…but he was concerned. Not so concerned to biopsy it, but concerned enough to have me back in 6 months. So I did that drawing. Ironically, it’s the wrong breast…but I guess I drew it as facing, on the left side. Anyway. It will be my next big quilt, I think. Maybe.

So I went back in today. I wasn’t worried…I was just scared. Those are different feelings. I do my monthly exams. I have no family history. I breastfed for a good long time.

They did three mammogram views and then she said they would call me, and I said, um. Yeah. Can you just have him look now, because I don’t want to have to come back? So she did. And yeah, he wanted an ultrasound. I pack myself out to the “Women’s Lounge” (a separate room in Radiology, so I don’t feel weird about sitting there double-gowned with my clothes in a pile on my lap). I tell them my time constraints (girlchild had her CT scan for today too). They take me in for the ultrasound, and I watch her, watch the screen, watch what they’re looking for. I don’t know what is good and what is bad. She says, “It’ll just take 5 minutes.” Twenty minutes later and she finally says I can clean up, but she wants the doctor to look. “You can get dressed.” “Are you sure?” “Yes.” Yeah. I got dressed, and then she came back with the doctor and I got undressed again. Everything is covered with that ultrasound gel now. I think I stopped breathing normally somewhere in there. I sent a message to the girlchild, told her to meet me at her appointment. We already had a contingency plan in case this happened. Her text back made me tear up. She said good luck.

Doctor comes in. His name? Lumpkin. Seriously? (OK, it might be Lumkin, but still!) She does the ultrasound again. Shows him something. He asks about something else. They stare at my breast, then at the ultrasound. Then he smiles and says, “It’s that same thing, a shadow. It’s been there since 2007. It hasn’t changed. I just want two more views on the mammogram.” Gel off, new gown (old one covered in gel), sit in the ~~waiting room~~ Women’s Lounge (I am still not lounging) again. Back in, another two views, which makes five total. Deep breaths. They do the twisty roll thing this time. I’m laughing. The woman is on her knees on the ground, trying to position all of my parts in the right place. I’m looking up at the machine, and someone has put some sort of scented thing on the machine…lavender…to calm us. I’m calm. I’m in pain, but I’m calm. I’m not breathing right, but I’m calm. Whatever it is, it’s already there. It’s been in me for 6 1/2 years or more. Flashes of Aliens movies.

It’s OK. He says it’s normal tissue. I go back in 6 months to my normal mammogram. As long as it stays the same, I’m good. That foreign shadow is part of me.

As I head out for the girlchild’s CT scan, I wish I had my sketchbook. I haven’t drawn all break. No opportunities, I guess. Other priorities. I haven’t done much of anything, it seems. Not true, but it feels that way. Achievement low. Must fix that in the next week.

So I came home and started ironing again…

Didn’t have much time in the afternoon, because I was wrangling with the FAFSA (financial aid for college). I was supposed to know city and state for every college the boychild applied to (I didn’t).

Damn breast is sore. I got all of the torso ironed to the staff, so I pulled it off the teflon sheet and rolled it up on itself…

That’s how I store it until it’s time to iron it all down to fabric. I wanted to finish today, but ended up needing to think about sleep. I am actually fairly wide awake, even now, but I need to be up at a reasonable hour tomorrow, so I can’t stay up until I’m done. I do want to get a different background fabric tomorrow, probably in the afternoon. I’ll take some of the pieces with me and toss them down on the floor, thus freaking out everyone in the store. Yay me.

In between all this, girlchild had a game…

I graded for the hour before the game…I bargain with myself about work vs. stuff that’s more fun.

Because taking pictures during the night games is totally pointless. I did more embroidery on these.

I’m working on the first two month’s worth. I’ve done all the embellishment in the background color on all 6 blocks, and now have moved on to eyes and feet on all 6. I originally estimated 2 games to finish 3 blocks, so it would be 4 games to finish 6. I’ve put in 2 games’ worth of time on the 6 blocks, so I should be done at next Wednesday’s game. I might be done with grading by then too, if I’m lucky…or at least the grading I can do while sitting on the bleachers. She played half the game tonight, so that was good, but there was all this stupid coaching politics going on, so who knows. I stitch because it keeps me calm during games. Plus I like to stitch. The one guy who’s been asking me about the birds every game asked me if I was done today. You so funny. I’m never done.

Anyway, we had been smart enough to put dinner in the slow cooker, so it was ready when we got home. I exercised and meditated, and finally started ironing really late, unfortunately.

I’m finally ironing the crone’s face…I got all the hair and the cat done, and then constructed the eyes and complicated bits down below on the pattern, so I could put them on top after…

It’s easier for me to see the pieces that way. I think each eye had about 10 pieces in it. She’s a complicated woman.

And I really like how she turned out. Deep breaths. I think this quilt is going to come together and be what I want it to be. I’ll feel better when I see it all together. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to show the whole thing before the exhibit opens. I’ll have to go read the rules. You might have to wait until October. That would suck. I really don’t like rules like that.

Tomorrow, hopefully I’ll get it all together…there’s an owl to do and some thorny bits, and then I need to find a new background and iron the whole thing down. Not sure whether I can do that all tomorrow…and Sunday is a bit busy as well. But I’ll try. I also still have a binding that needs to go on.

I finished this book today…Doomed by Chuck Palahniuk

I really liked it in the beginning, like 5 out of 5 liked it, but it really wore on my nerves by the end. He has a way with words, but nothing really happened in this book. It was interesting enough, but also irritating. So yeah…down to a 3 out of 5 by the end. It would have been better if it were shorter? I don’t know. I’m going to read some of his other stuff, because I like the words, but these two that I’ve read are apparently not his best, OR he’s all over the map. It’s hard to tell. I don’t really trust GoodReads reviews unless it’s someone I know who reads books I read. Otherwise, every book has been rated a 1 or a 5 by someone.

I have done a good job of keeping up with all the library holds that came in while I was on vacation…I’m not caught up yet, though. It’s been a good run…I’m enjoying what I’m reading. I’ve also been watching Firefly, the TV series that is a Western in space. The boychild recommended it to me, and I’m almost through all of them. They grew on me. I wasn’t sure about the first two episodes, but the last four have been great. The dialog cracks me up sometimes…”That sounds like science fiction.” “We live on a spaceship, dear.” I’ll miss them when they’re gone…I guess that’s a sign of a good show.

So all the angst of the morning is still sitting in my chest, ironically, around about the same place as that shadowy invader, whatever it is. I’m calling it my guardian angel at the moment. Everyone needs one…she might as well reside in my left breast. But all the ironing helped. Getting the face done helped. It was successful. I need more successful, apparently. Eases the sorrow. The pain. The sad. I have this lockbox, open, inside my chest. It’s waiting for my brain to gather up all the feels associated with this pain and put them in the lockbox, close it up and walk away from it. Move on. Let go, says the counselor. My brain is like a pitbull with a steak in its mouth. The brain won’t do it. It picks up a piece here, a piece there, but as it’s reaching for that piece way over there, it drops one of the others. Goes back for that one and drops another. Comedy of errors, of lame-ass behavior, of not really trying? Who knows. I move on. I don’t, but I do. I move on and my brain stays back and tries to continue picking up pieces. I’ll come back when she’s ready for me.

Passing through the Valley of the Shadow of Deep Shit*

It’s one of those introspective weeks. I want to get more art stuff done, but there is so much other crap that needs doing…plus honestly, spending time with the monsters kind of takes precedence. I say that, but I’m stressed about getting the art done that NEEDS to get done. I have deadlines. I’m not a flake. I can’t ignore them. And my brain keeps getting tied up in knots, tripping over itself. I wish it would just get ON with it.

It doesn’t help that I’m still dealing with grief and depression, or both, or some sort of frittata of the two. Even the counselor was trying to decide which…she thinks I’ve been suffering from a low-level depression for a long time (yup. agree. since about March of 2012) such that I don’t know how to NOT be depressed. But there is definitely a difference between how I was feeling then and how I feel now. Now it is just a dead, empty feeling…a constant sad, even when things are good. The things that made me happy, joyous before? Even when I was depressed? They don’t. I keep doing them. I know I have to keep doing them. The art is part of that. I get a sense of peace from certain artistic tasks, like drawing and tracing, but some of it is just like work, and finishing one part just means there will be more work. There is a sense of relief from finishing a task, but not the sense of celebration, hallelujah, that I used to get. I think that just takes time. Some people think it takes meds. I’m not in that camp yet. I don’t see how that will speed things up…it will just put the emotions off, over there; I will still need to deal at some point. I’d rather deal now…even if it’s fucking slow and hurts like a bitch. I can take it. Better now than reliving it later.

And that just fucking sucks.

Today? Today I should be celebrating my ass off. I finally FINALLY finished quilting the Love (not love) quilt…

Yup. I hunkered down a couple of days ago and thought I would be done, but the thread conspired against me and kept breaking and there was cat hair everywhere and I just didn’t have the stamina.

Yes, it takes fucking stamina sometimes. So it took a total of 7 hours and 36 minutes to quilt that sucker. I’m buying binding fabric tomorrow. I won’t finish it until 2014…there’s really no point in trying to finish it as a 2013 quilt…it’ll age out even sooner.

I started quilting it over the Thanksgiving week break, so it took a month. I was kinda lame during that month though. You have to get into the rhythm to quilt and I didn’t get there. It’s not a huge quilt either…so who knows what my problem was.

I also finally finished cutting out the damn pieces for the Celebrating Silver quilt. Here’s the trash…

I’m scared to throw the trash out, in case I messed up and threw a real piece in there (it happens). It took me a total of 15 hours and 35 minutes to cut all those pieces out…

I started on November 25 and have worked pretty consistently on it. The pieces were fussy…that’s why it took so long. Tomorrow I’ll sort them and start ironing. I realized I probably have 40 hours left in this quilt and only two weeks of break left. Insert panic here. I’m figuring another 15 hours to iron it alone…so that’s my New Year’s Eve plans right there, eh? Yes, I’m a loser. I do actually LIKE working on quilts as the year changes over. Maybe it will signal a better year for me.

Insert conversation with counselor here. We’re having some growing pains, the counselor and I, wherein she believes certain things and I believe others, and the two are not meeting in the middle. I don’t think it’s a death sentence to the relationship, but there is some understanding that needs to happen. Meditation usually helps me with that…it seems less judgmental…more supportive of the shit I am dealing with. There’s the semantics of “letting go” vs. “moving on.” I think I’ve done the first on some level, certainly in my head, but am completely unprepared for the second…and probably that will be for a good long while. It’s not just a matter of trusting others…you have to trust yourself, and that’s a harder deal for me at the moment. I get real caught up in words, in what they really mean. But there was the question of what is making me so sad? Is this grief? Depression? Does it really matter? What did I lose? Did it ever exist? My brain worries these things into the ground and comes up gasping for air and weeping disconsolately. Fuck. Just shut up. This is why I go to the gym and read books…so I don’t have to listen to my mind trouble things out. Meditation has been very relevant lately…when someone else does something wrong to you, you are the one carrying it around. You can’t control what others think and feel…you can only deal with your own response…so that is what I’m trying to modulate…my own response. I need peace and resolution within myself. Everyone else can go fuck themselves right now. I just need to give my own head the space to heal. I’m doing that on my schedule. If you think I should be further along? Well whatever. You can think what you like…it’s not my reality.

This all comes back to finishing…finishing things should feel exultant, joyous, successful…like achievement has occurred…and it doesn’t. I just try to fill the empty space that is now there with another project.

The cats have been helping in here…really…

by leaving fur everywhere…

I had to pack up two quilts for a show opening soon and the cat hair was the biggest issue. I dealt. I deliver tomorrow. Two more to be delivered in the next three weeks. These are not bad problems to have. I just wish they filled me up with some sense of achievement. Instead, they seem to magnify the emptiness. That just really sucks. I hate that feeling.

Jake…Jake was farting heinously tonight…

But we played with him and I think he even got popcorn and maybe some chicken. Big mooch. Girlchild was in a mood, alternately happy and psycho angry. It’s kind of typical for her…

I have to go to a thing next weekend and needed a nicer top for that, so she helped…but really, she wanted to shop (and she did, and hey! The 80s are still back and are still frightening). I managed to get her to stop watching sitcoms for a while so I could finish cutting pieces out (I have a very low tolerance for stupid happy)…

This is the embellishment I finished last night at the alumni game…

Not much of anything, but something. I’m grading stuff too, a little at a time. I’m trying to be efficient, to make lists, because otherwise I just completely forget what I’m supposed to be doing. My brain is on vacation in Tahiti and it’s not answering texts. Asshole.

I finished this book today…Hammered, by Kevin Hearne…

It’s the third book in the series of the Iron Druid Chronicles…there are three more books out in this series, which is considered urban fantasy. The main character is a druid, but there are witches and gods and vampires and werewolves and demons and all sorts of good things going on. This was a good book…the last one, there was some argument about Hearne’s treatment of female characters, but he riffs on that in this book, talking about the macho imperative. I will keep reading the series, but need to get through some of the other books on my docket first.

*the title is from Hammered, Kevin Hearne. It’s how many days feel…better than being in the valley, but still in the shadow.

To Settle My Soul

Christmas Day: The house smells of red velvet cake, then cauliflower soup, and now short ribs. The deviled eggs are made, spiced with fresh pepper and mustard (it’s one of the two things I was allowed to cook). I’m watching The Paradise, a British program set in the 1870s (supposedly an “intoxicating love story”…I’m not sure about either the intoxication or the love, but it’s so far from my reality with the young girls falling in insta-love that it doesn’t hurt to watch it), while trimming fabric for the Celebrating Silver quilt. I’ve cleaned up all the gifting trash and the girlchild is cooking dinner. She’s a freakin’ expert at this point, needing zero help most days, creative in her exploration of food while simultaneously destroying the kitchen. Seriously…it’s now 24 hours later and I still haven’t cleaned it all up.

The day is quiet…

We have parents and dogs and cats, but their dad is missing (yes, he’s usually here), and the girlchild misses him. The boychild may as well, but will not admit to it (yes, he’s covering his face).

Calli is quite happy with her new toy…

And with all attention thrown her way.

I stitch through most of the present-opening. Stitching occupies the part of my brain that likes to wander off into WishLand or Depressoid World. So it’s better to keep it working on something.

Girlchild put on an amazingly presented meal, which of course, I do not have a photo of…or maybe I do on the phone. I don’t know. She even gifted me placemats and napkins for the dinner table, plus borrowed matching plates and bowls from her dad’s house (she preferred his color scheme to mine apparently)…

Impressive. I don’t know where all her cooking/presentation brain power comes from…it must be related to the part of my brain that makes art…the creative bent. But I couldn’t care less about food presentation…it’s just fuel to me…although she makes very good fuel, that’s for sure. I feel exceedingly lucky to have her and her cooking expertise in my life. I am a better cook because of her, and I eat better too (tonight’s open-faced chicken sandwiches with pea pesto were to die for…seriously. I wouldn’t even have made them, because it sounded too weird, but they were damn good).

After dinner, we play a rousing game of SmartAss (you know, like you do). It goes on for a long while; we don’t set an ending time (besides, I won in about 10 minutes on the first round…apparently I was a super SmartAss on Christmas Day…probably to make up for being a Space Cadet the rest of the time). I stitched through most of the game as well. By the end of all the festivities, I’ve managed an hour and 37 minutes of cutting out pieces for the new quilt PLUS I’ve sewed almost everything on the wool birds…

Actually, last night I thought I was done, but I realized this morning that I still have two cotton pieces to sew on…

Whatever. It means I start embellishing at tomorrow’s soccer game. I don’t know if it’s healthy to always be distracting my brain from the bad sad stuff, but I’m getting pretty good at it. It won’t go away all day, though. It always surfaces somewhere: at the gym, in the car, during meditation, when I wake up, in my dreams. There’s no escaping it. It’s just there. I don’t know when it will go away…maybe never.

We usually do a family photo with the kids in front of the tree with whatever animals we have that year. This year, we decided to toss me in there as well, because we have three cats who don’t like each other enough to be held by the same person. Kitten is my cat; she barely tolerates Midnight, the girlchild’s cat, and Babygirl, though she likes me as well, is definitely the boychild’s ward…as much as she is beholden to anyone (she really does channel her previous dead owner’s personality). Calli belongs to the girlchild, and Jake is their dad’s dog, but he was better at sitting still and in place than Calli, so we gave him an honorary spot…

There it is…the official 2013 family portrait. I do have copies of the real-live official family portraits my mom had done a few weeks ago…maybe I’ll post them later. It’s sad that I’m the shortest…by far. Oh well. I never claimed to be tall.

This is my Christmas fabric haul…

Mom says I needed more dirt because I seem to be making quilts with lots of dirt in them. OK. And flesh. I’m always using flesh…although I think some of that flesh fabric might be better as hair. And that black spotty fabric…now I feel a challenge to use it as flesh. Or dirt. Or both. Or not. I did enlarge a bunch of smaller drawings at the copy place on Christmas Eve…I had to go pick up my Sightlines quilt, which has now returned home after almost 4 years of traveling, so I decided to use the copy machines as well, since I was already there and it was on my To-Do list for break. I’ll hopefully be doing some of those in January. I copied WAY TOO MANY drawings, but they’re small. I’m worried about not having anything to do. Crazy, that, really, considering the number of big drawings I have sitting around too…and my To-Do list is staggering for the rest of life too, at the moment. But if it’s 10 PM on a school night and I need some art-related activity to chase away the depression, then I should be prepared. I’m a Girl Scout through and through.

I cut more pieces out today…almost three hours’ worth…

I’m over 14 hours in now…you can see the pile of trash is big. I was hoping to get everything done today, but the bin on the left still has a couple of hours’ worth of pieces to do. So I quit. I’ll hopefully finish tomorrow. Then I can start ironing on Saturday. I got all freaked out about getting done…with everything. I’m going in to school tomorrow to grade stuff too. I can’t let stuff slip, however much my brain is trying to force my hand, make me wallow in shit and not get work done. It needs to grow up and deal. The eye-twitch is gone. That’s good. I’ve been sleeping more…although not well. That’s good. Exercise has obviously been a priority, and that is helping. Spending time with the kids is also good…we’ve watched movies and played games and hiked and shopped (seriously, the boychild stayed shopping with me rather than go home with the girlchild…stranger things have happened!). I appreciate this time with them, because they will be gone soon…off to college and then to their own lives…and I hope they do it better than I did. I haven’t been the best role model for relationships, although I have definitely taught them how to get back up off the ground and survive, despite all the shit. I guess that’s something. I hope they have less shit in their lives…there are people I know who never go through anything really bad…may my kids be in that group.

The title to today’s post come from the PBS show I was watching…”I long for peace…to settle my soul.” Mr. Moray in The Paradise. I actually think Moray is a total ass in this show, but whatever…I’m with him on the sentiment.

Keep Driving…

First of all, welcome to the 300 spammers who are visiting my website. It’s nice to have you here. Please make yourselves at home, but stop sending all those stupid misspelled messages that make no sense. Wow. First I typed massages. I wish they were sending massages. That would be helpful. But no…they’re sending messages. Stupid ones. It’s OK. I know how to delete.

Secondly, hello crazy time of year. I’m done with you. Now move on. I’m ready to skip to the 26th. Actually, I can handle the 25th. Everything has to be done BY then, so the day itself isn’t so bad. It’s just the cooking, and girlchild doesn’t let me do much of that. I think I’m in charge of breakfast and deviled eggs…and even that’s questionable. And I’m OK with that. I am so secure in my femininity (cough cough) that I can skip the cooking portion of my life and just be in charge of something like trash detail and kitchen cleanup. I have no issues with letting my 16-year-old daughter rule the kitchen…like forever.

With that in mind, there is this video on holiday meal etiquette:

But I like Brussels sprouts…and you watch too much porn. Yes, you.

And this has made me cry every single fucking time I’ve seen it…

which may just be about me.

Today was the finals for the soccer tournament the girlchild’s team has been in for the last few days. It was tied 0-0 at the end, went to two 5-minute overtimes, still 0-0, then penalty kicks, where her team lost…it always sucks to get that far and then lose, but it is what it is. The coach made some really shitty decisions throughout the game, and I think the girls paid for that. My girl didn’t play much…

which didn’t make sense, considering the laziness of those he did play. The day I understand this coach will probably be the day I die. We’ve dealt with a lot of coaches over the years, and his decisions confuzzle me every time. And I’m not just saying that because I think my kid is better than everyone…she has good games and bad games…but if your forwards aren’t scoring and aren’t even running, then kick their asses to the bench and toss some new blood in there and see what they can do. Or not. And lose. Unfortunately, unless you change high schools, you’re pretty much stuck with the coach you get. So the plus is that in the past, when he pulls this shit, she gets sad and cries a lot…today, she was angry, angry because his decisions hurt the team in the final, and that was just stupid. Anyway. We move on. I’m sure it’s a teachable moment for all of us.

Speaking of teachable moments, Jake doesn’t appear to be learning…

He’s been bopped by every cat in the house now, and yet he still tries to eat them. He would also like to go out and run free for a while, but we’ve told him he has to stay in the backyard, where he barks a lot. Boychild took him over to their dad’s house on Saturday so he could run around there…although he CAN escape, strangely he doesn’t if someone is home.

We’ve played games with him, he gets fed and petted…he gets to sleep on the couch…

When there’s room…he seems happy enough. He’d like it if we’d feed him more people food and take him on long walks, but there hasn’t been time for that…time has been eaten up by doctor’s appointments and soccer games and Christmas-related errands and all that stuff. It’s better than the kennel though, and that’s where he was supposed to be. He’s quite well-behaved with me in my own house…he’s only jumped up on me once, and that was when we were playing this goofy game where I lunge at him and he barrels around a bit and then throws himself on the ground again for me to lunge at him again. At his dad’s house, he uses the couches as his sanctuary in this game, but he doesn’t seem to be able to figure that out here, so it’s mostly just goofy running around. He’s a large beast…which reminds me…one of the errands for tomorrow is dog-present-shopping. I’m also going computer-accessory-shopping, since the boychild thinks he might have some solutions to everything but the graphics driver/card issue, which may be a bigger problem than I can deal with at the moment. He was floored by how many photos I have (49,000+) and how much music I have. Music rules. I take lots of photos. What can I say?

I’m holding emotions at bay at the moment, most of the time. It’s all there, lurking, let out when I see things on TV that make me sad or read things that remind me of why I’m sad or drive past something that makes me sad. OK, lots of the time I’m sad. Mostly I’m too busy to think about anything but wrapping 20 presents and paying bills and making lists and going to the store for the third time in three days. I read this book, though…The Revised Fundamentals of Caregiving by Jonathan Evison…

It’s about a 40-some-year-old guy working as a caregiver to a teenager who has muscular dystrophy. They both have issues to work out, and there is a road trip involved, and there is a sad sad story that is woven into the current tale, and there is some sarcasm and jokiness and some supreme horrible sadness, but it was a beautifully written book. If you read it, be sure to read the Author’s Note at the end…it will bring you to your knees and make the whole book mean something entirely different than you thought it meant. “This novel is about the imperative of getting in that van, because you have no choice but to push yourself and drive on, and keep driving in the face of life’s terrible surprises. It’s about the people and the things you gather along that rough road back to humanity.” It was a good thing to read as I’ve been trying to avoid the holiday platitudes on Facebook and on people’s blogs, making the season all the harder for those of us who feel like we’re missing something or that some things in life are just plain difficult for us and easier for others…knowing that nothing is fair and there is no fate and even karma doesn’t really play out, at least I haven’t seen that yet, though maybe I did such a heinous thing in a previous life that this is my payback. I don’t really believe in all that. So I just take deep breaths and keep driving and try to stop asking WHY…because there is no why that makes any sense…except maybe for girlchild’s explanation that the world is full of assholes.

Artmaking at this time of year is difficult until Christmas is behind me…but I managed lots of wool stitching at soccer today…these guys just need their cotton bits sewn on…

And these guys just have two cotton pieces to go on and they’re done…

minus all the embellishment of course. I have about 30 soccer games ahead of me where I can be doing that. Girlchild’s back is OK at the moment; her CT scan is scheduled for early January. Then we’ll decide about surgery. Scary stuff.

Meditation said yesterday that when feelings are uncomfortable, we have a tendency to run away from them. I’ve never (or at least as long as I can remember) been one to run from scary uncomfortable feelings. If anything, I hang out with them too much, let them have too much play with me. Meditation has given me some distance from them, but I still had issues yesterday at the gym, in the weightlifting portion of my workout, when there is no book to distract me. Audiobooks might help…I don’t know. I usually listen to music AND read…I need an audiobook with a soundtrack to occupy all parts of my brain. Or maybe not…maybe that’s me sitting with the uncomfortable, listening to it and watching it and responding to it. Maybe that’s why I’m better at the emotional bits than some, because I listen to them. I hear them talk and whine and fuss…I talk them out of some of their bitchiness. I live with some of it. I don’t know. I draw some of it. Need to do that. Draw. All these pictures in my head…they need to come out.

So I am still cutting things out…

FOREVER. OK, not really. I’m almost 10 hours into the cutting and I’m in the 600s (going backwards). That’s a little scary. I think it’s going to take more than 12 hours to cut them out…which isn’t surprising, because a lot of the pieces are really fussy and complicated.

Big pieces often take less time to cut out than small pieces. More tomorrow, hopefully. I have lots of errands and cleaning to do tomorrow. Doesn’t look like much, does it? It never does until they’re all ironed together.

Anyway. Hope your holiday preparations are going smoothly and that your family is gathering around and the weather is what you want it to be (I was barefoot in the sun at the soccer game today) and all the food is ready or will be ready and someone has wrapped all the presents and everyone is healthy and happy. Or at least as much of that as you can handle. I’ll personally be OK with my kids around me and the shopping done and wrapped and the floors clean. Anything else is gravy.

Winter Break So Far…

Winter Break so far: graded two weeks of warmups, sat through three soccer games in less than 24 hours (hence the grading), sewed on 32 tiny blue circles (OK, I don’t actually think it was 32, but I don’t feel like counting, so here…you count)…

I stitched other blue things too…seriously, each game is two 40-minute halves with 10 minutes in between, and you have to be there an hour before, so that tells you how much time I have to grade and sew…AND take photos when she’s actually playing and it’s not dark.

I also checked out over 2000 pages worth of books from the library, because apparently every book I had on hold for the last 6 months arrived this week. Seriously. I have two ebooks that showed up and four actual paper books, and all of them are huge. I’m OK with that, but it’s kind of strange to feel PRESSURE to read. Then I go to the gym and realize I am the only person who is reading at the gym except for that old guy over there on the treadmill…oh wait, that’s my dad. Hmn. The world is full of nonreaders.

I also went to Unsilent Night last night with the kids…it was smaller again this year. I think next year we will get the girlchild to bring all of Key Club or something to fill out the numbers. I still liked it and once I get the videos posted, I’ll put them on here, although watching them is kinda lame compared to the experience. Downtown wasn’t as busy as it has been in the past either…not sure why, since it was a Saturday night…maybe everyone was at work or family parties. We did talk about last year when we did this. Everything I do is full of memory. I managed it though. Lost myself in the sound and lights of the experience and hanging out with my kids. Threatened them with doing this every year when they come back from college. Holy shit. They’re going to college.

In the middle of all that, a giant rock hit my windshield and left a divot, and then the check engine light on my car came back on, which is probably the catalytic converter finally failing, with the worst possible timing in all the world…January will be the Visa bill from hell, I think. What is the next thing that will go wrong with the car? Shouldn’t there be three? College apps plus Christmas plus fixing car. Deep breaths.

I have not been home long enough to make art. Girlchild just said to me that I get stressed and she doesn’t even know why, to calm down and it would all get done. Maybe true. Then again, she’s not doing any of it. She just adds more to what I have to do. At least she can drive now, so I’m not constantly having to take her and drop her off…let’s not think about her ability to get lost.

I didn’t post last night out of pure exhaustion. I’m not sure why I made it to Saturday night and didn’t collapse Friday night, but whatever. I fell asleep in meditation, then got up and went to bed, and then couldn’t freakin’ fall asleep. Lame. Brain goes a mile a minute, can’t shut it down. Need to do the exercise and the art to get it to shut down properly.

The plus is that the soccer situation is better now…

Coach played her in the first game yesterday for an OK amount of time…

Then I saw her club coach and talked to him about the lack of playing time. Not sure if he then talked to the high-school coach, but she played a good chunk of the second game yesterday…

And made a goal. There we go. The picture above is right before she made the goal…kicked it past the goalie on the ground (who was trying to trap it with her legs), jumped over her, and calmly placed the ball in the goal. So I think she’s feeling better about the soccer thing now and hopefully that will mean less drama here. At least for a day or so…the finals are tomorrow and I think we’re in them. More grading time.

I finished this book, What Looks Like Crazy on an Ordinary Day, by Pearl Cleage…

It was OK. A little light…nothing’s that easy in real life. Can’t remember why I read it…recommended somewhere. There are apparently more in the series, but I don’t know if I care that much. Oprah does…if that matters. I liked the characters and the writing…it was just too perfect. If I were less depressed, maybe I would like it more.

My right eyelid is still trying to twitch on and off, but it’s calming down. I feel good about all the grading I got done in the last two days…although there is still a shitload to do. I have to go to school today because I left my room a mess and they are doing the floors, so I have to clean up so they can do that. I also still have Christmas stuff to deal with. I think I will not be getting much art done in the next couple of days, and even after that, the days are pretty full…but maybe after that. So hopefully there will be pictures of that coming soon. People keep trying to add to my Have-To list…like I don’t already have one three miles long.

Right now, I have two cats in the same room that are hissing at each other, my ex’s German Shepherd who believes either that My Toast is His Toast or that he should be allowed to eat the hissing cat who has already bopped him twice, and a Golden Retriever who keeps hopefully coming in with a squished soccer ball, asking me to play.

So I’m going to the gym. With my book. Trying to take control of my own life, even if my brain doesn’t like it.

I Could Totally Do That

Brain is all over the map. My students’ gave me gifts today, those of the hugging variety. Cheap but appreciated. It is the thought that counts. I was reading someone else’s post about their depression and how it affects their ability to do things they know they should be doing, and then I was thinking about the gifts other teachers at school had given me and how I couldn’t even wrap my head around that task (I’ve never been able to deal with more this time of year), and I’m having issues even dealing with gifts for my own children, and for some reason, the whole mess made me really sad…which would have been fine, but it was lunch at school and crying at school is never a good thing. I felt completely inadequate and lame and nonfunctional and sad and useless, and even writing about it, taking simple notes to remind me of how I felt for when I wrote this post later…those little notes made it a bigger issue. Brought to tears by kindness? Or the reminder that I am broken? Or do I just accept my inability and move on?

Depression is such a fucked-up mess. Thinking about it makes you more depressed, because there is no magic pill or word that makes it all go away. When you’re totally sick of being depressed, you are still depressed. In fact, it may make it worse. It’s worse when you know you’re doing everything you’re supposed to be doing and it still doesn’t feel better. It’s still a slog through cold mud. Someone today told me I looked great (ironic, that), and I said thank you. Because that’s what you say. And that is one positive from all this shit. I’m healthy. I’m the only non-sick person on my team at school at the moment. I haven’t been sick in the last 6 months, at least with the normal viruses etc. I’m just sick in the head. I just don’t sleep. I just don’t eat well. I just don’t give a shit. Except I do. I get up. I shower. I work. I try. I make art. I read. I work out. I try to do all the things that normal people do…the non-depressed people. The kind of person I used to be. I guess I did that for enough years that I can fake it now. Look! This is what a normal person does during Christmas! She shops! She wraps! She cooks!

Fuck that. I have three weeks off of school. I can make sure I exercise regularly. I can try to drag the monsters out on some hikes or go on some on my own. I can clean the damn house, because it’s driving me nuts. I can try to be OK…whatever that means.

I can’t be happy. I can’t be non-depressed. Those aren’t really antonyms. Happy is not the opposite of depressed. I am sad. I can’t be happy and sad, can I? Maybe…I read that you can be happy your child is going to college, but sad as well. I get that. I understand that. I don’t think there’s something that will make me happy at the moment at the same depth as my sadness, though, so sad it is. Depressed, though…depressed is a whole ‘nother island, further out to sea. There’s no getting off that island until the non-depressed boat shows up to pick you up, and he’s notoriously bad about finding the island. So here I sit.

Girlchild had a soccer game today. She did not play. I don’t like her coach. He’s kind of an idiot. Hopefully he doesn’t read my blog (it seems unlikely, unless he is a closet quilt artist). She’s having some mood-related issues because of his lameness. I’m doing a lot of huggy mommy stuff to try to make up for his shit. I graded during the game and stitched as well…

That’s a whole lot of little blue dots.

Plus she misses her dad. So I didn’t exercise tonight (ran out of time…cuddled teenaged kid instead of exercising…not as many calories burned, but good karma is better anyway I think) and I ate like shit today (not her fault). I did meditate…there was discussion of cause and effect. How does it feel to give someone something? Ironic that, considering the season and my issues above with gifts…I’m having this issue with gifts I gave that were handmade, some of which meant (mean?) quite a lot to me, and now I wish I hadn’t given them away…because I don’t believe they will be treated with respect. It’s interesting the kinds of gifts we give to loved ones…some give mostly handmade, some give all material things, devices, objects that don’t have personal meaning. I wonder if that is a gender thing or if there is some type of person that would be better for the handmade type…one who was more thoughtful. Don’t get me wrong…gadgets can be very useful…but there is a level of intimacy with a gift made specially for someone, about thinking about the person as you made the gift, that I think makes it worth more. And if that is never reciprocated, that level of feeling inserted in the gift creation, maybe that is always a mismatch? I don’t know.

I don’t have much time for things like that…for making those types of gifts any more. I used to.

Speaking of tech, here are the two tablets I’m using now…

The iPad Mini (left) has been around for almost a year and gets lots of use, mostly for reading, but all types of reading. The one on the right is the new Nexus tablet from our school district (it’s not mine to keep), which I’m supposed to use for school-related stuff. Apparently I will be able to track everything my students are doing in class on this thing and send feedback right away. I’m imagining a classroom where everyone is staring down at a device, silently tapping away, including the teacher. That has got to be so far away from reality. Here’s reality…kids doing Snapchat and Instagram in class with their phones and talking instead of getting work done, while another kid shows his table a YouTube music video that is incredibly inappropriate. Some mom complains and the teacher gets reprimanded. One thing we definitely need (besides a case for the damn Nexus so we don’t drop it and break it and have to pay for it, part of what we had to sign off on to get the damn thing) is a better agreement for parents to sign, one that actually protects teachers from stupid kid behaviors. It’s a whole different world to navigate. So I am supposed to spend part of break getting used to the beast on the right. It is not like the beast on the left. Wish me luck.

I told you I was wrapping…just very slowly and inefficiently, that’s for sure. My brain is not fully engaged (hello, can you say depression?).

Still haven’t opened the curtains from summer sun. Didn’t even notice until I saw this picture.

And meditation took place with cat on lap.

Also not particularly efficient.

We had a discussion of saggy boobs today, especially what happens to the body post-pregnancy…singing the boobs-hanging-low song (like you do), remembering a conversation with a friend about the pregnancy stretchmarks (wherever they inhabit your body) being a mark of what you had survived, a mark of the relationship that created the child that caused the marks themselves. Stretchmarks existed as a sign of the good in the relationship, medals for wounds inflicted in war. It brings to mind how we appreciate the aging and used body…the work those parts did. I found all those thoughts depressing as well. I need to go for a walk or something (probably not right now…it’s a bit late).

White Lies by Max Frost…

Heard this song this morning on the way to work. Not sure why it stuck, but it did. Up early. More soccer. More grading. More tiny blue circles (I’m fairly sure I left some on the bleachers at the high school). Hopefully she will play tomorrow. Hopefully I will get a bit up and out of this funk. Funk makes it sound like a good thing, like the music. It makes it sound like all I have to do is get out of the chair and come in and dance. I wish it were that easy, because I could totally do that.

Wash Down the Drain…

Wow. Boom. Hear that? That’s any sense of ease I had in the last few days. Exploding. It wasn’t really ease…more like resignation? Not even that, because my brain is always trying to find ways around the giant rift valley in the prefrontal cortex. I’m not resigned to anything. I keep getting up and moving, trying to figure out how to get across. Knowing there is something over there that is better than over here, and if I just keep working at it, I will get over there. Hope it’s not a grass-is-greener thing. I’d hate to get across and have it all still suck.

It is what it is.

We kamikazed to a soccer game in San Ysidro today after school, 5 miles from the Mexican border. The sky was beautiful for about 45 minutes before the game…

In all sorts of ways. I feel this incredible sense of peace when looking at the sky lately. It has so many variations, some so bright and clear, others murky and gray, and even more highly colored and vivid these days. The cynic in me blames pollution somewhere…in fact, the red is caused by scattering of light, with more water droplets and dust in the air causing the red wavelengths to scatter more, making that amazing magenta/watermelon in the sky that I’ve seen so often in the last few weeks. Was it always there in December? Did I never notice it? Is it that there is so little good going on in my brain that the skies are making such an impression? There are no good answers. It’s best to just watch the sky and enjoy it when it’s enjoyable. Notice it when it’s noticeable. Wonder why I’m so fascinated by nature and landscapes.

So yeah, there was a soccer game. One down, four to go. These days are such logistical nightmares, they require advance planning and multiple texts for completion. It’s no wonder I’m exhausted when we get home and finally get dinner made and the dishes done. I did exercise and meditate, but I didn’t manage much more than that. I wanted to, but I was too damn tired.

I didn’t grade at soccer. My school-related frustrations were high, and I refuse to let them take over my life, so I have a rule that if I leave school irritated with my job, then I don’t work that night. Yes, this could get ugly, but mostly it’s working. Honestly, will the world end if something is not graded right away? Nope. It hasn’t yet. I always seem to figure it out. I take more help than I used to. I grade less than I used to. I try to be more efficient but also more kind to myself…honestly, the frustration and upset caused by grading when I am already not happy about work is just not worth it. So I don’t make it worse.

Those are usually art nights (OK, mostly every night is art night at the moment, but I think that’s a good thing)…but tonight. Sheesh. Not an option. I did stitch at the soccer game…

I’m almost done stitching everything down on these…I think these are the August blocks, the ones that originally burned up on the stove. I was worried that all those tiny blue dots (and there are lots more of them coming) would be too difficult to stitch while sitting on bleachers, but I was wrong. They were a piece of cake. I almost lost one of the larger blue dots on the bleachers though…found it later.

I got these to this stage over Thanksgiving, I think…or some soccer game after that. Can’t remember now. Big blur…

Of wool and stuff. I actually had two men ask about these…one wanted to know what I was knitting (bang head…); the other asked if I was doing the school logo (which strangely does look kinda like the orange bird body above). People so rarely ask what I’m doing…so that was interesting. I usually sit far away from people, which is how I started out, but then I got surrounded by the male contingent of soccer parents. I don’t understand sunflower-seed-eating people who just leave all their droppings on the bleachers. What do they think will happen to them? Bizarre thought process.

When we finally got home, Jake was here…

Jake is my ex’s dog. He’s here for two weeks. He keeps going to the door, wondering where his dad is. Poor guy. And he’s really not sure about cats…

Cats seem to confuzzle him. They are just a tad bit scary and sharp and loud and hissy. I wonder if he knows the cats kinda feel the same sort of uneasy about him?

Anyway. The sad is back. Was it ever gone? I guess not. I will need to fit art into tomorrow night…it’s much harder when the kids are here full time. I wonder how much art I would be doing now if I had been married all these years? It’s hard to say what life would have been like…it doesn’t really matter, I guess, because it didn’t work out that way. This is why you stop having expectations, I guess, because then the not-happening is so difficult. There is a fine line though between no expectations and no hope. That’s the line I’m walking at the moment.

Back to the art. Set goals. Aim for getting them done. The rest will come. Maybe some of the sad will wash down the drain while I’m doing that.