Monday, April 28, 2014
Monday, March 31, 2014
This morning, in a fit of trying everything (as is my wont as an INFP/INTP) I am sitting at Christie's desk, which has a wonderful view of the living room. Of course, it would never work for me to do this when she was home. She'd feel like her space was being invaded and sullied (because that's what I do, I conquer all space in this house, colonizing it through possessions). But it is nice to sneak in and try it out...because this seat is one of the best in the house...the room is big and expansive, it has lots of light and windows and it is a proper desk...not the slapped together collection of tv dinner tables and tiny night stands that comprise my non work area. That whole room feels scary to me....it's over colonzied with papers and books and aspirational shoe choices.
I understand Christie when she says the entire lot of it needs to be junked. Besides helping Gina get her business elements together, I considered seriously attacking the closet because that is the genesis of all big bad things in that room. The closet the loci of the most angst ridden yearny parts of the whole house. It's filled with papers from old classes, clothes that no longer fit or are out of style, dentritis from almost every single move I've made as an adult. I know that if I can crack the code of the closet, the rest of the room will be much easier to address.
And here's the thing...sitting here in the main body of the house, maybe I'd rather be part of the stream of things than separate from it? Separateness is what makes being in that room so problematic...it makes C feel cut off from me, it creates a barrier in our togetherness. So if I were here and not there...if that room could be switched back to a guest room with bookcase and sensible storage for my clothes, perhaps, perhaps our lives would not be so topsy turvey anymore? I mean, I can put earphones on if the TV is going. But I can't heal the rift created when I falsely sequester myself from the rest of my life.
Friday, October 18, 2013
But the fact that we are so disabled by transit strikes in this century, the century that touts the information highway, shows us how much old paradigms hold on with a vice-like grip. The machine (a.k.a society) hasn't learned yet.
But we need to get with the program people.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Good things are waiting for you.
Hard things too.
But You. Must. Do.
An aside...yes this is your seven year and you are in the grotto staring up at the moon and the stars and taking copious notes and realizing what you don't know. That shit is scary, no doubt about it.
But it is EXCELLENT that you know you don't know. Today (and the rest of the year), remedy that problem.
EXCELLENT I tell you!
Saturday, August 3, 2013
It seems like every other week I'm early trying out a new writing program as if that will be the magic bullet that will catapult me into the blogosphere as a legitimate writer. Ain't nothing that will do that kid except you doing it. Ya gotta write, write, write. And you need to have a niche, niche, niche. Oh and yeah, you can't be anonymous.
The newest one is called Draft by a very enthusiastic young man who is probably half my age. Still, hearing him talk, I forgot I was old. I heard him and thought...cool contemporary. Such a very sad thing, this oldness before we come to acknowledge it.
An aside...I know I'm old because I keep on thinking of my life in terms of "preserving" things as in if I don't start exercising, I'm going to lose the ability to exercise willingly at all. Everything that defines who I am--my writing, my speaking, my teeth, knees, lungs, eyes, hair, skin, intellect...all of these things I keep trying to preserve. Of course in the end it's pointless, they will all be lost one day. But while I'm still 'young-old', I want to enjoy what I have...that's the plan anyway.
Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Physically, I'm a mess. I'm scruffy, non-linear, scattered. Her designs and rooms are pristine.
So why would anyone in their right mind turn down a nearly free remodel? Because the purpose of the office...MY home office, is for me to plum my depths...it's for me to find ME. Her designs though beautiful did not reflect my process, my depths, my quirky underdone weirdness which is where the most creative parts of me dwell.
This is also instructive on a level beyond the herculean effort of appropriately styling a room...as architects of our own lives, we must all become more involved in what we want, not sub it out to a contractor however well meaning and talented. It's a do-it-yourself-existence.