Grrr.

I know, I said I’d post more often and then I disappeared for more than a month. I’ll tell you the truth: I’m trying to avoid the temptation to use this blog as a place to rant, rave and vent. But I suppose it’s my blog, and I should be able to cry if I want to. So.

First thing: dog blues. Peacegrrl mama and sis are moving to a new place and my puppies can’t go along. Anybody who knows me knows that my dogs are part of my family, and even though they’ve both gone to amazing new homes…it hurts. Just wish I’d been able to say goodbye.

Next: ex-boyfriend and his need to tell me all about his new relationship. We broke up on great terms and have been friends ever since, so we get together every few weeks. Last night I knew something was up and I was waiting for it, while simultaneously willing him to keep his mouth shut. I just didn’t need to hear it, you know? Especially on the verge of this piece-of-shit holiday, after months of celibacy, and so lonely I could scream. I made it clear that my emotional state wasn’t the best and that I’ve been going through a lot in the past few weeks. But he just HAD to share. Piss. Ladies, I know you understand. I don’t want him back–but why does HE get the happy new relationship and I get…more solitude? Infantile jealousy. It sucks.

But…all is not lost. I did get to go to a great conference last weekend, all about purpose and trusting your inner voice (which I notoriously suck at). It’s helped me to stay somewhat centered in the midst of chaos. And even better. Dods and I are off to Washington, DC next weekend for no good reason. We’re just heading down there because we can, and because I’ve never been…and it won’t always be a six-hour drive for me. Very excited! It’s fun to have something to look forward to.

And now to change subjects completely: time for some politics. I’m going this route for a couple of reasons: one, to share my excitement, and two, to share my irritation.

You may have heard that I lean a bit to the left. Just a tad. And I blogged several years ago about the invigoration of Obama’s ‘04 Dem Convention speech, and then a little later about my fear that he was too young and inexperienced to get into an ‘08 race. Well…he convinced me. I guess I’m more optimistic than I ever thought, because when I listen to him talk about his hopes for this country, his belief in cooperation and tenacity, and his plans, free of the dirt that tends to cling to you when you’ve been in Washington too long…I just get motivated. For once I believe the words that are coming out of a politician’s mouth. Many others have said it all much better than I could. But in any case(though I recognize I don’t carry the weight of, say, Oprah or the Kennedys), I’m throwing my endorsement to Obama this time around.

And here’s what pisses me off. The same thing that probably pisses A LOT of folks off. People are telling me that I’m not a true feminist because I don’t want to vote for HRC. That my urge to support Obama comes from internalized sexism and an acceptance of misogyny, and that though I call myself a feminist, I’m not really comfortable with the idea of a woman as president. I don’t know about you, but i just HATE being told how I feel, or why I feel the way I do. I thought feminism was about finding our voices and not being afraid to speak our truths. Why can’t I be a true feminist and vote for Obama? Are my ovaries supposed to guide my political decision making? I don’t have any hatred or ill-will for Clinton, and if she’s the nom, I will more than likely vote for her. But the simple fact is, I believe she’s divisive, and I have a hard time trusting her BASED ON HER OWN RECORD, not because she has a vagina. I think Obama is the better candidate to move us forward, to shake off the nastiness and dishonesty of the last eight years. So there!

I don’t expect everyone who reads this blog to align with me politically, but I hope that if you’re reading, you’re going to vote (or you already have) in your state’s primary, regardless of when it is. As a woman I try very hard to remember how bitter the fight was to give me that right, and to pay the respect owed to those who made sure I had it. Not to mention that I think letting your voice be heard is essential to the notion of community. (Shit, I’m starting to sound like my old boss. Let’s end it there…)

I’ll try to come back soon–there’s a lot of knitting rambling I want to do. So as always, thanks for continuing to bear with me!

I have to do it again

I hope you’ll indulge me. I’m in the middle of a bit of a crisis, big scary stuff that I’m trying to wrap my head around and find my way out of. It’s a family thing, though not the worst that we’ve survived, but it has led to a lot of bad dreams and stomach pain. This being the holiday season and all, not to mention one of the busiest times in the semester, it is not exactly the best time for personal meltdowns. I’m trying, rather awkwardly, to come up with a way to cope (large amounts of alcohol, while a very convenient method of escape, don’t seem like the healthiest thing, although I’ll admit that before this is over, I may find myself swimming in a bowl of rum-spiked eggnog…). Remembering my blessings seems to help. So I hope you don’t mind the sentimentality or the repeated theme of this post…gratitude.

Some things that I need to remember:

1. I have enough to eat. Did you know that one out of every eight kids under 12 in the US goes to bed hungry every night? That freaks me out. Especially when I think about what I come up with when I clean out my refrigerator. Or what I consumed on Thanksgiving. Whatever else in my life is going to shit, at least I’m full and I’m not malnourished.

2. FEMA is in the process of closing down the trailer parks on the Gulf Coast, trying to get Katrina survivors to move into permanent housing…something that many of them don’t yet have the financial means to do. I am grateful that I don’t have to worry that in a few months I might not have a place to live and nowhere to go.

3. All of the holiday sentiments are pounding in how annoyingly lonely I am right now. It sucks to be at a point in your life when you’re not even sure who the hell you are, but your anxious to share something with someone, even if all you’re really sharing is uncertainty. I am thankful for the strength I mustered up in choosing to wait for the right person rather than settle for the wrong one, even though that would be so very easy. R and I talked about the concept of loving ourselves before we can really be loved fully by anybody else…maybe there’s something to all of that. Maybe our Mr. Wonderfuls are just outside of our view, waiting patiently for us to get our shit together. One can hope.

Thank goodness for faith. When things are falling apart and there doesn’t seem to be a way out, I guess the only thing that keeps me going is that spark of faith that makes me believe that it will turn around, that we’ll find a solution, that we’re going to be ok. My spirituality is a bit of a confused, mixed-up bag at the moment, but my faith is here.

If you do the prayer thing, could you send a few thoughts in the direction of my family? Thanks.

Not so hot

That’s how I’m feeling these days, hence the rather sparse postings. I feel guilty about releasing too much negativity into the universe through this blog, but T-man gave me a scolding last week, and I decided that sharing the lousy stuff is better than sharing nothing at all.

So here we are. I’m feeling lousy because I’m in a slump. I’ve had issues with depression for as long as I can remember, and this is a particularly rough patch. Usually there are a few things that I do that nip it in the bud–get enough sleep, take a quiet weekend, pray, knit, plan for the future. This time none of that is working. Despite my best efforts (I even spent a few hours playing with dogs on Friday night), I can’t pull myself out of the pit. It’s hard to get out of bed in the morning, I’ve had a headache for two weeks, I have nightmares. I’m cranky and irrationally pissy. Nobody should have to put up with me in my current state.

The good news is that I’ve isolated the problem: it’s my job. The bad news is that I live my job. Most people can detach. I can’t (literally, physically) do that. Most of the time the rewards of work outweigh the frustrations. These days, not so much. I won’t go into a ton of detail for a couple of reasons–for one thing, it’ll just make my head hurt worse. Suffice to say that I’ve reached a point where some major decisions need to be made, with a more urgent timeline than I’d anticipated.

Blah–there’s a lot on my mind. At least the knitting is going well. My besotted scarf is beautiful, and I’ll put some pictures up soon. I’m also working on a project with some beautiful handpainted laceweight. And Molls has charged me with a super-cool project (can’t wait to finish it and get it to her so I can post some pics).

And while we’re accentuating the positive, I’ll close with some more good news. I just baked a kick-ass apple pie. The Indians are up 2-1 against Boston. Today is payday. And, most importantly, I’m finally heading home for a long weekend. I can’t wait to be back in TX again, even if it’s only for a few days. Lots of Tony time is on the schedule, and I think that’s what I need right now. Babies make it hard to think too much about your own problems, and I could really use a break from mine.

Vent

I know. I haven’t blogged in over two weeks, and when I finally do show up, it’s to bitch and moan. I’m sorry…indulge me, would you?

Here’s the thing. I was clicking along beautifully–getting work done, enjoying free time, playing around on e-i’mlonley.com, and things were basically working out. Then, of course, life intruded. Stuff at work has gotten irritating and stressful (my students are being…well, students) , stuff with my family is one bummer after another, and then I got slammed with a cold, which I knew was coming, since my friends had all gone through it. And I’ll grant you, they were all pretty miserable during their bout with this crud, but I had to go one step further, didn’t I? I guess owing to my already stressed-out (coming off of a one-week duty marathon), asthmatic, and terribly out-of-shape state, I got the bronchitis-bordering-on-pnemonia version of the cold. Yay! And sixty dollars in prescriptions later, I feel even worse than I did before, because I’m on prednisone. It’s a disgusting steroid that they usually give asthmatics, and while it makes you breathe a little better, it also makes you feel like shit. And look like shit, I might add. Not that I was ravishing anyway (I’m sporting the bed-head and the little red line on my nose from the Breathe-Right strip, so my appearance is pretty comical at the moment, steroids aside), but some of the side effects include a flushed face, oily complexion, and my fave…weight gain!!! As if the moment on the scale at the dr.’s office yesterday didn’t wreck my self-esteem enough.

Blah…bleh…ick. I’m tired and I have cabin fever, of course it’s finally feeling like fall and I can’t enjoy it, and I’m getting behind at work. And I’m contemplating a major career change, which involves motivation, studying, exam-taking and most of all, money I don’t quite have yet. There’s so much to do, and so much to think about, and I just want another nap.

Once the prednisone is over and the forty-dollar antibiotics have done their job, I’ll be back. Hopefully with happier news, knitting updates, and more contemplation about major life changes. But for now, thanks for tuning in to the “i’m a freakin’ mess!” part of our program.

It’s going to be one of those posts.

Grrrr. I’m doing my thing again. It’s been a relatively peaceful summer, with happy times at home, and now it’s time to freak out. Things are changing in my life in a big way–a close friend has moved away, I’m headed to a new assignment, new staff, new supervisor. Work is a little unstable as bad news just seems to keep coming from the north. I haven’t gotten any closer in these weeks to figure out what my next step should be, and when I get home, it’ll all be waiting for me. Change.

Here’s the thing. You’d think a wanderer like me would be totally down with a shakeup. But the reality seems to be that I’m all-or-nothing when it comes to this change stuff. Moving 1500 miles away to a town where I know no one, in a new climate, new part of the country? No problem. Sure, I was nervous, but I was more excited than anything else. But a few tweaks that were decided without my input? Forget it. I guess I’m a change control freak. If I didn’t pick it, didn’t plan it, didn’t decide it, I’m terrified of it. Now don’t get me wrong–I do realize that since there is so little in this world that we can actually pick, plan, and decide with any success, this doesn’t seem like the best way to live. But maybe it’s getting older, maybe it’s the nesting instinct, I don’t know–I just want some damn stability. I want some roots. I want to dig in somewhere, with someone, and start building the kind of security that I never really had.

I know, it’s July, who’s in the mood for deep psychological realizations? Especially when it’s so freaking hot that I can’t spend more than five minutes outside. (Seriously–three years of absence made me forget the misery, and my body is rejecting this hell. Of COURSE I was excited to move to Ohio three Julys ago. Who wouldn’t want to get away from here?) Let’s face it–this is what I do. I’m not in dire circumstances. I have a job, a roof over my head, a supportive family, and a network of friends, and of course I zero right in on what I don’t have. It’s so self-indulgent of me, and if you’re still reading, I thank you for sticking around. You know what thought keeps occurring to me? I keep wondering, what would I be capable of if I wasn’t afraid of failure? What if I just did it–listened to my inner voice, went after the things I’ve always dreamed of doing and didn’t do because I insisted on being practical. Have I ever really taken a chance in my life?

Ick. This is heavy. I need to let it stew for a while.