mental health, deconstructed

Today I decided I wanted to start yoga again. This is what that decision-making looked like in stages.

I awoke with 1st husband at 5:30 a.m. He told me to not let him back into bed because he had a lot of meetings today; I considered getting up with him to get some tea, write, and do some yoga but instead turned to diagonally occupy all bedspace and fell asleep again.

Husband woke me with a kiss when he left for work at 7:00. Imagined getting up to have tea, write in the quiet, do some yoga, then went back to sleep.

Awoke at 8:45 to text from 1st husband saying our new bathroom tile would be here tomorrow rather than the projected end of the month. Texted back "Wow, great!" and thought about going downstairs to do yoga. Ate some chocolate from my nightstand and perused Facebook instead. For two hours.

Got out of bed because back was aching, decided doing yoga would really help, went downstairs and poured a tall cup of ice water [after considering the merits and downsides of various other glasses and bottles in the cupboard]. Emptied CD player of other CDs to put in meditative CD of instrumental classic rock songs, wondered why we still own, alphabetize, and use 600 CDs instead of our 7000 hours of digital music. Cleared coffee table of last night's tea cup, wine glass, chip clip, empty Cheetos bag. Decided to vacuum coffee table drawer along with the impossibly plain always-littered brown rug where I then put my Wii balance board and yoga mat, instantly creating the need to vacuum again. Turned on Wii, discovered balance board batteries dead. Ate more chocolate, recycled old batteries, found new. Resisted urge to change from pajamas into yoga pants and sport bra, closed blinds, sat down to document this morning on the blog I've neglected for seven months.

Message : For any boys (or girls) from my junior high/high school days who lamented not getting any dates with me, thank your lucky fucking stars. Because sometimes this whole thing happens out loud.

Now, I'm going to do some yoga.

hot purse-suit

I have been obsessing for a month about getting a new purse. Part of it has to do with my inherent need to simply obsess about something and since Anthony Ervin has apparently blocked me from his Twitter account/consciousness, I need a new focus. But another part of it is that I've decided my upcoming return trip to NYC will require something far more chic than my garage sale/thrift store bags [which I took last year but nevermind coherent thought] in order for it to be THE VACATION OF A LIFETIME (please be sure you say that in a booming voice, with reverb).

In shopping days past, I would see drool-worthy purses I loved but passed them by because a) didn't feel a real need for one at the time and b) they cost more than my wedding dress, even considering 20 years of inflation. So armed with the irrational belief that heading to NYC gives me permission to now spend upwards of $500 for just the right life-changing handbag, I figured I'd spy it within an hour's jaunt through the mall, earn some Disney reward points on the smoking credit card, and drive home in a heady stupor.

Of course not. When do we EVER find just what we want when we want it upon entering the most wretched place on Earth after The Store That Shall Not Be Named? And after weeks of looking (sometimes in the same stores, on the same shelves, as if The One will magically make itself visible to my faithful heart), I am ready to go all Christian Bale crazy on the clerks. However, since my stellar work in counseling, I can let it go.

For now.

My trip is still four months away.

everything makes me cry

Neglecting my blog
Trying to keep up with my blog
Going to the gym
Not going to the gym
A perfect martini
A terrible martini
Believing I am entering menopause 
Being told I am not
People losing their homes
Other people helping those who lose their homes
Going back to school in 8 short weeks
The idea of not having a classroom to go back to
Students who tell me I've helped them
Students too damaged to accept help
Students who are apparently just a**holes
Las Vegas
Anyone singing Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah
Watching my kids grow up
The possibility of not watching my kids grow up
Remembering
Forgetting
Walking through the gates of Disneyland
Really good chocolate
Nora Ephron's writing 
Me not coming remotely close to Nora Ephron's writing
Nora Ephron not writing anymore
Thankfulness

stuff & nonsense

Because I'm pretending I have nothing else to do that matters, I have been surfing YouTube and Wikipedia for 80s music trivia. I have found some relatively fascinating items that I am willing to share with you, so you may actually be available for your family & friends instead of glued to a computer screen for two hours.

First, I finally looked up Aztec Camera after years of wondering why Fountains of Wayne seemed so enamored by them. Now I AM IN LOVE with a cute boy from 25 years ago (which is not at all unexpected, really). Must see:

That little nugget led me to look up sweet Roddy Frame to see what he's up to now (in case he's living in my neighborhood, volunteering at our PTA) and found out he performed with Mick Jones of The Clash. Then I found this treasure:

I will now be keeping my eyes & ears open for a repeat of that kind of event when we head to London this summer; I promise not to be the YEAH MAN! fan in the crowd.

Perusing Mick Jones's bio, I noticed he was briefly with the band General Public; I have always confused General Public with English Beat and wondered why as their names are clearly quite different. But guess what I found out in only 80 minutes of mindless web surfing?? The main singers are the same people! How did I miss this great big DUH? Seriously, I've heard & adored their songs since I was in junior high and just now made this discovery. It's like only recently realizing that the hottie cop in 21 Jump Street is the same guy who plays Captain Jack Sparrow! OMG!

Here, marvel over my dumbfounding inability to put these two together - the song Tenderness (which won't embed for some reason, sorry) and Save It For Later:

I am, however, relieved to know that no one from Modern English is associated with English Beat (because I would mix them up, too). Nor do they have anything to do with Fountains of Wayne, Aztec Camera, or Mick Jones, though the lead singer does look a little like a Clash wannabe.

Time for me to stop the world and melt.

not a stalker, exhibit 43

just wanted to say

i think you're really awesome

(hit send or delete?)

this haiku based on actual incidents

make stuff happen

Coupeville, WA
photo by me, 2009

sometimes we do things -

impressive, monumental

things. but not always.

maintenance

I am the worst kind of woman, according to Harry - high maintenance who thinks she's low maintenance. But really, I have been aware of this since first seeing the movie when I was 21 and just starting to officially date The Man Who Would Become My Husband, so does that let me off the hook some? I have a metacognition thing going on with myself - I sit down resolutely to do exactly what essential task I need to do and realize I should have tea. Which means I should clean the kitchen while water boils. Which means I should sweep while the tea steeps. Which leads me to realize we need a new broom. So I make a list of all the new things we need before I race off to Target, wait no, Goodwill first. Where I take a few minutes to "just look around" for some items that would be great for my classroom. Then I remember the essential task I need to finish, at home, and head back to get it done. But first, I should get dinner started (and luckily the kitchen is already clean)...

This Man Who Became My Husband knows that I must:

• Smell everything before I taste it
• Taste (therefore smell) anything he plans to eat or drink
• Insist he has a jacket when we go out
• Plan extensively, even if we don't actually end up doing anything I planned
• Use certain dishes for certain foods
• Have popcorn at the movie theater, even if I've just eaten a fulfilling meal minutes before
• Drink my Pepsi from a glass, with ice (preferably crushed)
• Wrap presents, even if they'll be opened within moments
• Sort laundry and load the dishwasher in a particular way
• Read while I brush my teeth
• Match undergarments, shoes, and glasses with outfits
• Stop at most garage sales
• Obsess over various secret boyfriends, for fun

And I love him so.

mail call

I find few things in ordinary life more disappointing than a mailbox full of nothing worthwhile. It's worse than an empty mailbox, frankly - at least then I can pretend the mail has not yet come, or the postal workers fell behind and didn't get my stuff together in time for the truck today.

This afternoon there was a small promising pile of letters in my box that I pulled out expectantly, but by the time I crossed the street to my house it was clear not a single item was remotely useful or even interesting (sometimes I get a Nordstrom catalog full of crazy things like $395 lime green watches but at least I can use that for a collage, or short fiction about insane people). Everything today was so uninspiring that I cannot even come up with amusing ways to make fun for this post.

I think my need for Mail of Substance comes from my childhood. When I was growing up in the boonies on Whidbey Island, our mailbox was at the end of a winding gravel driveway and across the road, so checking the mail was something of a production - shoes were required for sure, usually a jacket because we were only a mile from chilly Puget Sound, sometimes gloves. If I got out there and found nothing or worse, it felt like wasted energy. (Maybe my anti-exercise stance started here, too). Sometimes I was surprised & sated with a glimpse of rabbits or deer hiding in the woods behind the mailbox or a family of nervous quail skittering across the road, but usually I sullenly kicked rocks all the way back to the house with my handful of boring bills.

One would think that with this kind of outlook, I would be better at sending cards & letters to brighten other people's mailboxes. I wish. As my OCD has worsened, I get stuck at the start - I find something perfect for someone but then don't have an address or I need different stationery or must find time to decorate the envelope/box just right or need to buy stamps or have to go the post office or...ack.

A resolution for the summer: Set up a simple, accessible, no-obsessing-allowed mailing station and plan a weekly trip to the post office so I can/will send fun, worthwhile notes & parcels to my favorite people. That could be you; watch your mailbox.

magical buzzkill

Disneyland riding -

Feeling jiggy but signs said

No disco dancing

Forbidding placard
Spring Break, 2010

the winter of my discontent

Every weekend season or so, I fall into a weird funk in which my mind meanders through all the things I could be doing with my life. This has nothing to do with not liking my current situation (love my marriage, family, job, and friends as are) nor does it have anything to do with reality. It has a lot to do with me being a Virgo; I used to keep a scrap of a magazine horoscope that highlighted my sign's tendency to harbor a "vague sense of dissatisfaction."

Regardless of the reasons or plausibility, this infliction makes me halt all activities that don't immediately affect my health or well-being (so basically I've been going to work, eating, sleeping, and occasionally interacting with husband & children). I'm trying to work through it by saying it out loud, to you. So you can tell me I'm crazy; I don't listen to myself very well sometimes.

Fantastical ideas I've been having lately, for no good reasons:

1. Being a stay-at-home mom again
2. Buying a new house
3. Changing to a different church (this is totally Donald Miller's fault as I've been reading Blue Like Jazz)
4. Attempting to be a real-live author
5. Teaching overseas
6. Moving overseas, teaching or not
7. Begging LiveWire! to let me work for them
8. Taking classes to really finally become a decent cook
9. Hiring a housekeeper
10. Buying an entirely new wardrobe
11. Staying in bed for 72 hours
12. Getting a dog
13. Fasting
14. Trying out for Survivor

Help.

bonding

Tonight I was awake and lucid enough for a trip to Blockbuster. It has been a strange change from my former, pre-surgery life when I stopped by the video store hourly more frequently; these days I am constrained by not being able to drive myself combined with the fatigue I feel as soon as I step in my front door. But I rallied because I desperately miss my Geeky Cute Video Expert Guy needed to rent The Prestige for my upcoming sci-fi lesson on Steampunk.

My dear Best Husband Ever thinks it's hilarious that I have this crush, which kind of pisses me off and ruins some of the clandestine joy in my heart, but he still gets irritated that my GCVEG acts like Stu is invisible, or reminds him that he is not on our account whenever Stu tries to rent a movie on his own. So our joint visits can be simultaneously amusing & awkward, depending on who is behaving like the bigger weirdo. And how cute I think my hair is.

This evening, my secret boyfriend and my real-life husband shared a couple of poignant-guy moments - first when I was trying to figure out what to get as our free rental, Stu suggested Shaun of the Dead and GCVEG's eyes lit up in admiration; he bolted over to find it on the shelf. Then as we were leaving, Stu jokingly mentioned that I should show Heavy Metal when I teach the subgenre Fantastic Voyage; GCVEG actually gasped and put his hand over his mouth, clearly impressed at my man's audacity.

I think I feel a bromance brewing; glad I can start driving myself again this week.

fa la la la ... exhausted already

This is a post to bring people up to speed about my situation (those who aren't already privy to my hourly ramblings on Facebook, that is) and wish you a pleasant holiday season, in case I don't make it back here due to sleeping, gnashing of teeth, or a combination of the two during the coming week.

My bunionectomy (which I found out is a real word when it was written on multiple Official Documents at the hospital; I thought I was being amusing by putting together my malady and the suffix for removal) went well, after a very brief minor breakdown during prep when my IV kept bumping a nerve and causing such pain that I considered yanking it out, which made me even more frantic. I think maybe my veins do me a favor by being microscopic and elusive - they purge all my worrying & fretting early so I have nothing left right before & after the actual surgery.

Another thing helped before I even went into the pre-op area. A 30something dude (and his mom) casually strolled in announcing he was checking in for surgery. When asked if he had sent in his preregistration papers (Like I had! The week before!) he said, Spicoli-like, "Oh yeah no. I didn't send anything." The receptionist gently directed him to fill out a form while she made copies of his ID and insurance cards. "Oh yeah no. I didn't bring any of that in." Eventually his mom went to retrieve his wallet from the truck and all was well. But the combined feeling of smug self-satisfaction and irritation on behalf of the receptionists kept me in a pleasantly distracted state for a few minutes.

This means "Happy Holidays!" in sign language.
I'm pretty sure.

The Importance of Being Certain


And to all a good night.

stuck

I have been busy (relatively - there are scores of people whose whirling dervish lives make me want to weep), but mainly I have just been scattered. I imagine my brain right now looking something like a loofah, but being less useful.

Last week, I left my classroom on Thursday afternoon to fly to Dallas with my dad; I spent the weekend visiting with relatives, taking pictures of all the places I spent time as a kid in his hometown, meeting the unbelievably lovely & together Texan Mama, and watching the Cowboys game in Heaven the fantastic new stadium.

I want to share my pictures and tell all about Sunday afternoon, but my brain is fried. I start to compose thoughts & gather photos and I'm paralyzed; suddenly a thousand other tasks (urgent and not) elbow their way into my psyche - grade papers, revise lessons, enter grades, wash clothes, clean the kitchen, move furniture, drop off donations, e-mail someone, check Facebook, add new aps to iLover, stop by Blockbuster, shop for groceries, watch Survivor, sleep. Then when I choose a task to complete, the insane membrane convinces me that a different task is far more pressing. And in the meantime, I'm missing tea dates and craft parties and watching gratuitous chest shots in mediocre movies with girlfriends.

I have to find a way to focus. Wine works, right?

it's time

1. It was a dark and stormy night, when I decided to wear my polka dot boots to get groceries & videos.

2. I discovered Grocery Boy & Geeky Cute Video Expert Guy got new jobs at the library, so I offered to take the books myself.

3. Rushing out, I forgot to grab my purse.

4. No money, no lip balm, NO iBoyfriend?? ...I think I heard a howl!

5. Shhhh...Best Husband Ever saves the day.

6. Arriving at home I playfully demand, "Give me something good to eat!"

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I'm looking forward to being less sick, tomorrow my plans include a haircut and probably more rest, and Sunday, I want to rest a little more, in front of football games on TV.

More spooktacular Friday Fill-Ins

to the pain

Let's just get this out of the way - I am a big baby about pain. Or, more accurately, impending pain. If I am spontaneously injured, I don't freak out or even draw attention to the injury. But the prospect of having to do something that will hurt? Sends me into ulcer-inducing drama.

When I had my first child, the idea of labor & delivery made me dizzy; I could barely attend the birthing classes because it was a constant indicator of The Pain To Come. Frankly, having an emergency C-section was actually a blessing - I had no opportunity to think about it and fret beforehand. As I did when scheduling and awaiting the C-section for my daughter's birth.

Now, I've been enduring increasing discomfort from an opportunistic bunion and have tried all the easy fixes like better shoes & putting my feet up at the end of the day, to no avail. My right bunion has started to ache constantly, sometimes sending darts of agony through my whole foot, causing me to actually limp. Limp. And so I have scheduled surgery.

Basically, I am and will be for the next 52 days worrying about having my foot cut open. At this very moment, my stomach is churning and the bunion is shooting electricity up my entire leg.

The only mildly good news? By some magical karma also enjoyed by Cheri at Blog This Mom!, my podiatrist/surgeon is sweet & cute. Though I suppose that will only make it more humiliating when I start sobbing during anesthesia.

a little medicine

I found myself on a little laughing jag today, in the midst of my midday class. It was one of those things where I started to giggle then couldn't stop - a for-real laugh, not the usual grown-up teacher chuckle then back to business stance; the situation really was funny (a couple of nearby students joined in, which is what kept me going I think) but it was also as though I opened a valve that had rusted shut. With the nonsense of my former friend/divorcing husband and many students in a state of midterm shut-down, I guess I've been more closed off & stressed out than I realized. My class was at first amused with me in a "Wow, she's really laughing! That's cool" place, then I could see them start to be like "Um, is she going to hurt us? Should we start moving toward the door?" when I began to sound like a lunatic.

I got hold of myself and told a couple of my favorite jokes:

Why did the monkey fall out of the tree?

[because it was dead]


Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Control freak.
Control fre --- THIS IS THE PART WHEN YOU SAY "CONTROL FREAK WHO?"


And all was well.

crushtastic

I remember very clearly the first time I developed a crush that, well, shall we say stirred my loins. I was starting high school and somehow managed to see Class even though it was rated R. I fell hard for Andrew McCarthy (not Rob Lowe, like the rest of teenage girldom) and could not [still can't] get his sweet sensitive geekiness out of my erotic brain. I realize that the foundation of this decades-long crush is his eternal status as the underdog, the back-up guy, the cute-but-not-unattainably-gorgeous one; frankly, it's how I've done crushing ever since.

Seriously, those eyes.

Too perfect? I'm so hurt.

Sorry, Rob. This is how you do hurt.

P.S. I have specifically avoided the Mannequin & Weekend At Bernie's movies in honor of my original fantasy. So call me, Andrew; you're still my favorite wounded second stringer. I'll add you to my Potential Second Husband list posthaste.

P.P.S I believe we could trace my Cougarishness to Class. Honestly, I do remember wishing I were 20 years older than Andrew so he might want to have an affair with me, too. Moxilicious or pathetic, you decide.

everything is wrong

1. My hair is inexplicably [unless you count the onset of menopause as a possible explanation] lifeless, even before I head out into the gale force winds that stormed in overnight.
2. My nose is harboring a painful pimple/cyst/boil/monster which may or may not be melanoma-related but most certainly is distractingly ugly.
3. I berated my freshmen no fewer than 3 times in 70 minutes. Pretty sure they believe I am morphing into an actual witch (see #2). But if I were, I'd have already put a stun spell on them.
4. Teeny ants are invading my classroom.
5. The afterschool workshop I thought was two hours was really three but I couldn't stay because my one kid was already home alone until near-dark and my other kid was being sheltered yet again by very kind people whose generosity I will not exploit. This stressed out my OCDness.
6. I forgot to wear a watch today.
7. I was too tired & blechy feeling to visit Blockbuster tonight. Plus I was wearing my slippers.
8. My throat hurts.
9. I'm still kicking myself (with the non-bunioned foot) for not at least smiling in the general direction of my secret LiveWire! boyfriend when I saw him at Wordstock. Instead I actively avoided looking directly toward him, like an idiotic junior high girl.
10. I had to drive Stu's car today and he does not keep a spare tube of lip balm and my lips were very dry from the incessant wind, and I forgot to get a new tube for my purse.

Good stuff I don't deserve but get anyway:

My man emptying & refilling dishwasher; my man suggesting Chinese takeout; my children not arguing for hours on end; my man getting his friend doing business in Singapore to pick up my favorite tea; best friends who offer only kindness & love when I am tired & grouchy at 6pm.

inside the brain of a twice-twenty year old

Here are some thoughts that have entered my mind lately. Try not to judge too harshly; I'm approaching just-past-middle-aged and some days are more hysterical interesting than others.

1. I really, really like toast and black tea in the morning.

2. I'm starting to kind of like getting up at 5:45 and doing some Wii Fit exercises.

3. Am I damaging my preteen children by letting them listen to Beastie Boys? Is it better or worse if I sing along?

4. My college boyfriend was effing hot.

Stu circa 1991 in.my.bedroom.

5. This picture of my hot young boyfriend makes me feel really...happy.

6. While I can appreciate the 'gotta have faith!' sticker on the car in front of me, I cannot help but scream in my head Can you please have faith at the speed limit???

7. I'm starting to kind of hate getting up at 5:45 and doing some Wii Fit exercises.

8. F*ck off, little animated Wii balance board bastard; I KNOW I'll see better results if I work out everyday.

9. If I put my pants on first and bend a lot, they will stretch out just fine.

10. I must rewatch Pretty in Pink and The Breakfast Club soon. And download the soundtracks.

11. What else do I need at Goodwill that I can get for 25% off with my birthday-month discount?

12. I love my hair.

13. I hate my hair.

14. I'm so excited for my birthday party! Rollerskating & Happy Hour!

15. Who cares if I could be the mother of anyone under 25?

16. Hey, we get AMC! I can watch the new season of Mad Men in real time! [Honestly, I didn't realize our TV picked up this channel until now]

17. Should I send in a photo to the Mad Men casting call? I could play Sally's teacher!

18. Red polish or dark purple?

19. Isn't it time I stop loving pizza so much?

20. I feel like making brownies.

little bit crazy, little bit rock & roll

13 ways I am simultaneously unbalanced yet endearing.

1. I thoroughly enjoyed watching all 6 minutes and 45 seconds of this video.
2. I remember desperately loving the disco dancing Donny when I was in 4th grade.
3. This morning I shamelessly took the Inappropriate Crush Quiz (even though it's from 2007 - Daniel Radcliffe is actually turning 20 today).
4. I feel a little bummed that I only scored 5 points.
5. I clicked over and read the entire five page article in Details (and watched the video interview).
6. I am inordinately delighted that Daniel also loves John Keats.
7. I'm pretty sure this piece of trivia will escape my mouth more than once in the coming year.
8. I also watched the video interview with Bradley Cooper.
9. I took notes on all of his outfits and am seriously contemplating a massive shopping spree at Banana Republic for my husband.
10. I tremendously & truly love my husband as he is but cannot help trying to make him wear whatever Bradley Cooper wears.
11. I scandalized the poor Nordstrom guy by asking him if the button-down shirts they were selling for $89 [on sale] would make my husband look like Bradley Cooper.
12. I tried on the same velvet jacket twice in 20 minutes at the Nordstrom sale, after touching & holding it for 10 minutes; I did not buy it.
13. I will be returning the lip gloss I was talked into buying because I realized it has petrolatum in it, plus I envision myself (and everyone else) being distracted by My Lips and Their Glossiness every minute of my teaching day if I tried wearing it to school.

More crazy and/or rock & roll at Thursday 13.