infinitely undesirable
Jan. 2nd, 2012 04:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anonymousblackrandom brittle dreams, questionable motivations, unforeseen outcomes.
i realized around 1AM that i'd decided in my heart of hearts that i need to move to rockford, to be closer to my family, to be closer to dear friends out here, to be closer to my niece as she grows
by 2:30 i'd talked myself out of it
it's not necessarily a
well i mean it's an idea, you see, and there are both healthy and unhealthy facets to it. on the one hand, things in baltimore are technically where they were for me three years ago and i'm making myself sick watching everyone else's milestones pass me by. i'm sinking deeper and deeper into neurosis and stagnation. on the other hand, there's a distinct possibility that i am turning myself into a pillar of salt even as i type this. i'm so desperate for this situation to evolve a little in a positive direction i could very well be getting impulsive and stupid.
two hours later i can't say where i am, who, what, quezacotl whispers: time is short, the great destroyer is waiting. i look at floorplans and reference shots. i can't get this time back i can't get back the time i've lost with my nephew my mother my friends. i don't know. i couldn't say.
now 4, listening to fleet foxes in my niece's bedroom that used to be my bedroom: let us review, how strange to see the colors and textures i put into this space years and years ago carelessly scraped out and redressed with my sister's childlike sensibilities, the latchhook hen beneath the praying child cross beneath that dreamcatcher i knew i left somewhere; the feather blessing i wrapped and hung off the doorframe six years ago still hanging off the doorframe; the plastic drawer chest stuffed with wipes and footie pajamas underlining it all. let us review how strange it is to sleep in a baby's room that does not have the baby sleeping in it, to wake up next to a crib at the baby's cry in the next room. to return now and listen to this album i want to curl up in and pull over me like sleep furs, that expanse of voices marking a perfectly secure circumference, what would have been here if i hadn't left. it's like dropping a stitch, skipping a beat, the structure will collapse itself any moment now
she's a dear, she's a sweetheart, she's my niece. when she sees your feet coming down the stairs she'll call out 'hi' until you respond back in kind; once you do she delights: 'happy!' and waves her arms, trembles with delight, laughs out loud with the joy of having you in the room with her again. i arrange her cheerios into a circle on her highchair tray and she can't believe the miracle of it, it's like nothing she's ever seen; when she knocks the circle out of order slightly with her enthusiasm, she looks at me in slight distress until i put it right again. she rewards me by lowering her face and lifting her eyes with a giggle: a confidence between us, this ring of oats. magic in its most rolled and roasted form.
at the restaurant my aunt sees the sanskrit ring i've worn on my right pointer finger since my last year of college and asks if ben gave it to me. no, i tell her, i've had it for years, and anyway the energy behind it is supposed to relate more to my commitment to spirit, that unearthly marriage. whatever the case she presents me back with my hand and says, well you've got to tell him. by next christmas. he needs to give you a ring. she's going to pray to god for it. i don't know i couldn't say. what am i doing here? what am i not doing there? what the hell is it that i think i'm doing with the time i have left on the planet? do i really want to spend it giving someone i love horrible ultimatums about marriage? does it really matter to me, that much?
and i love him so much and i want to be with him so much and i've wanted to be with him and in so many ways i've chosen him and that's the path i've chosen and yet. here i am at my parent's house. and i miss so much and i'm missing so much and it creates this horrible grating, this feedback loop, i realize how lonely i am and how empty i've been feeling and i am so burned out with placelessness, with waiting, with not really understanding why i am where i am. and i can't ask for what i want, because i don't really know what that is. or i'm too afraid of the answer to ask, or i'm that much more afraid that there isn't so much an answer as there is more waiting. no answer, no growth, just entropy and, eventually, death.
quezacotl quezacotl
new jobs and engagements and due dates pile up on my facebook feed. i wait, as ever, for the killing blow. any day now, about. people complain about 2011 or they complain about people complaining about 2011. facebook makes my heart sick, it's this funhouse mirror world of manipulation and distortion, intentional and otherwise. everybody's beautiful and perfect. is it real? on the level i'm seeing, it is. it may as well be, as far as i'm concerned. i could not be so beautiful or so perfect, at least i don't think i could be. i cannot even pretend. maybe it's better that way. sleight of hand or slight of hand. i couldn't say. facebook makes my heart sick, there's no ghost in the shell.
i keep going back, all the same.
i realized around 1AM that i'd decided in my heart of hearts that i need to move to rockford, to be closer to my family, to be closer to dear friends out here, to be closer to my niece as she grows
by 2:30 i'd talked myself out of it
it's not necessarily a
well i mean it's an idea, you see, and there are both healthy and unhealthy facets to it. on the one hand, things in baltimore are technically where they were for me three years ago and i'm making myself sick watching everyone else's milestones pass me by. i'm sinking deeper and deeper into neurosis and stagnation. on the other hand, there's a distinct possibility that i am turning myself into a pillar of salt even as i type this. i'm so desperate for this situation to evolve a little in a positive direction i could very well be getting impulsive and stupid.
two hours later i can't say where i am, who, what, quezacotl whispers: time is short, the great destroyer is waiting. i look at floorplans and reference shots. i can't get this time back i can't get back the time i've lost with my nephew my mother my friends. i don't know. i couldn't say.
now 4, listening to fleet foxes in my niece's bedroom that used to be my bedroom: let us review, how strange to see the colors and textures i put into this space years and years ago carelessly scraped out and redressed with my sister's childlike sensibilities, the latchhook hen beneath the praying child cross beneath that dreamcatcher i knew i left somewhere; the feather blessing i wrapped and hung off the doorframe six years ago still hanging off the doorframe; the plastic drawer chest stuffed with wipes and footie pajamas underlining it all. let us review how strange it is to sleep in a baby's room that does not have the baby sleeping in it, to wake up next to a crib at the baby's cry in the next room. to return now and listen to this album i want to curl up in and pull over me like sleep furs, that expanse of voices marking a perfectly secure circumference, what would have been here if i hadn't left. it's like dropping a stitch, skipping a beat, the structure will collapse itself any moment now
she's a dear, she's a sweetheart, she's my niece. when she sees your feet coming down the stairs she'll call out 'hi' until you respond back in kind; once you do she delights: 'happy!' and waves her arms, trembles with delight, laughs out loud with the joy of having you in the room with her again. i arrange her cheerios into a circle on her highchair tray and she can't believe the miracle of it, it's like nothing she's ever seen; when she knocks the circle out of order slightly with her enthusiasm, she looks at me in slight distress until i put it right again. she rewards me by lowering her face and lifting her eyes with a giggle: a confidence between us, this ring of oats. magic in its most rolled and roasted form.
at the restaurant my aunt sees the sanskrit ring i've worn on my right pointer finger since my last year of college and asks if ben gave it to me. no, i tell her, i've had it for years, and anyway the energy behind it is supposed to relate more to my commitment to spirit, that unearthly marriage. whatever the case she presents me back with my hand and says, well you've got to tell him. by next christmas. he needs to give you a ring. she's going to pray to god for it. i don't know i couldn't say. what am i doing here? what am i not doing there? what the hell is it that i think i'm doing with the time i have left on the planet? do i really want to spend it giving someone i love horrible ultimatums about marriage? does it really matter to me, that much?
and i love him so much and i want to be with him so much and i've wanted to be with him and in so many ways i've chosen him and that's the path i've chosen and yet. here i am at my parent's house. and i miss so much and i'm missing so much and it creates this horrible grating, this feedback loop, i realize how lonely i am and how empty i've been feeling and i am so burned out with placelessness, with waiting, with not really understanding why i am where i am. and i can't ask for what i want, because i don't really know what that is. or i'm too afraid of the answer to ask, or i'm that much more afraid that there isn't so much an answer as there is more waiting. no answer, no growth, just entropy and, eventually, death.
quezacotl quezacotl
new jobs and engagements and due dates pile up on my facebook feed. i wait, as ever, for the killing blow. any day now, about. people complain about 2011 or they complain about people complaining about 2011. facebook makes my heart sick, it's this funhouse mirror world of manipulation and distortion, intentional and otherwise. everybody's beautiful and perfect. is it real? on the level i'm seeing, it is. it may as well be, as far as i'm concerned. i could not be so beautiful or so perfect, at least i don't think i could be. i cannot even pretend. maybe it's better that way. sleight of hand or slight of hand. i couldn't say. facebook makes my heart sick, there's no ghost in the shell.
i keep going back, all the same.
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no subject
Date: 2012-01-02 01:28 pm (UTC)If I find any answers, I'll be sure to let you know, but dont hold your breath. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 10:03 am (UTC)i was one of the birth coaches for my nephew (my sister placed him with a family she chose a few weeks after he was born, but the adoption is open and my immediate family sees him and his family regularly) ...i mean, here. now he is as tall as my sister and is a challenging opponent in checkers on his kindle fire. where'd all that time GO?
no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 03:48 am (UTC)Tobaira of the Waters is reversed indicating emotional needs not being met in the past...thirst of the spirit or emotions. She can also remind us that faery spells on waters can be mischievous causing irritability, confusion, etc. And that maybe it was time to cool off, and quieting emotions before taking actions.
In the here and now, Ilbe the Retriever can be a sort of busybody helper. Things like hiding things you were looking for that he put somewhere that would teach you to be more organized. He also safeguards our lost hopes and forgotten dreams. He holds the seeds of our future until we are ready for their return. You might not think you are ready for them or may have given up hope altogether. But he arranges reminders. Events. People in our lives that bring back memories of our past hopes and dreams. He's trying to remind you of something you lost, something that *he* thinks you can do something with it.
Lying in wait is the Journeyman. All of the great ones went into the wilderness, stepping off the safe path, like fools. It's the journey of life. A pilgrimage that begins in ignorant trust. The Journeyman is stepping off the path glowing with enthusiasm. He must leave the protection of his master and setp out onto his path as an independent journeyman craftsman. This could also be called Innocence Encounters Reality. His faery godmother is lurking just out of his sight though. Because all good-natured innocence attracts faery guardians. It means Adventure. Independence. Travel. Oengus is optimistic, innocent and willing to learn. He shows that intuition serves us well but only if we pay attention to it. It doesn't necessarily mean beginnings. It can be progression along a path. Moving into the unknown from the known, a new phase in an ongoing process. He reminds us to consider where we are going...what are our long term goals? What are we doing that is helping us to move toward them?
(Past/Present/Future spread paraphrased from the Faeries Oracle)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-03 10:17 am (UTC)we're planning to come back together some time in the next couple months, however, because we want to move my things. so we're going to actively plan something with you that next time, like with a day and a rough time and such, because it won't be quite so holiday-panicked-haven't-been-home-in-3-years-y.
i am also thinking about that rockford thing a bit more seriously, though i have anxieties that it could just turn into another kind of stalemate. and while once all my payment stuff gets ironed out with the firm i'm writing for, i'll be able to live pretty much anywhere, ben is probably going to need to be in reasonable distance of a decent graphic design market. plus he's about to become an uncle himself and i've struggled so much with missing the chil'ns, i don't want to do that to him.
thank you for this reading, b. i think i'm going to print it out for the train. for the record, you can always do readings for me without asking. :-)
no subject
Date: 2012-01-04 01:26 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-01-05 08:12 pm (UTC)I know you feel like you've been stagnent these years, floating adrift, but you've been searching for what's present without anything. Who am I when not defined by a job, a marriage, a family? Of course it's not all coming up roses. Roses make for shitty poems. And when you're around the kids every day, it takes someone who's been away to see them clearly. I'm so tired by the evening , but Foster walks in the door and the joy in his face and Jill's face upon reuniting after even 8 hours apart gives me so much energy and love.
I don't know if that helps. But that's the way I see it. Me, I've been defined. I'm a wife and a mother. We own a house in Hawaii, this is home. This is where we are and I can't (won't) run off to find myself for more than a few hours. I guess it really struck me after watching a movie about the Buddha, leaving wife and family to go into the wilderness. That option is not for me, not now. I'm happy with who and where I am, don't get me wrong, but it's sometimes quite limiting. Being a mom is all I can think about, write about, dance about. So. Find a way to enjoy the wilderness. Or if not enjoy it, be at peace. I know all these people and status updates and whispers are asking you to come inside, to the warm hearth, come be close with loved ones and knit sweaters. Maybe it is time to listen, to come home, to find what you've learned while you've been away. Maybe it's not. Both are valid.
I'm going to end my ramblings with my parent's favorite Steinbeck quote: "Who has not known a journey to be over and dead before the traveler returns?"
In any case, *HUGS* are in order.