Category Archives: writing
Have you missed me? I’ve noticed that when I’m dealing with big events in my life I stop writing. My journals all have gapping holes during the times when I would be most interested in going back and reading about what I was thinking in the moment. I’ve blank spaces from when Orion was a baby, and each of his hospitalizations. I have holes in the record immediately after recording that I had cancer. I stopped journaling when the cupboards came off the walls.
My parents are aging and it’s hard. It’s hard on them and it’s hard on us. I’ve missed the last two blogs. The first I skipped because my folks don’t have internet, the second because I’d just gotten home. I have been slammed with emotional content and I shut down.
When I was a kid I was “sensitive”. I cried in empathy, wore my emotions on my shirtsleeve and was generally harassed about it. I made an active decision to stop.
The first trick was pretty easy, typical in my family. That is to put emotion aside while you deal with a crisis. The idea is to stay clear headed and available, and not add to the chaos while it is occurring. The aftermath, when everything is safe, comes like a tidal wave and can be very confusing as it appears to have no source.
Having that kind of emotional catharsis in public is a great opportunity for gaslighting. There IS nothing to be so upset about (anymore). It IS overreacting (because it’s all the reaction at once). Even the part about “just looking for attention” isn’t entirely false. If I’ve just spent hours offering sympathy and emotional support to others, yes I may be looking for a little sympathy and emotional support for myself.
So I learned to allow myself to be distracted. Eventually I learned never to “get around” to dealing with my emotional content. There are lots of distractions! I’ve been trying to unlearn that.
I’ve found that I’m a better writer when I can be open to emotion. I’ve found that there is strength in vulnerability. I’ve found that it’s really hard to make myself do the work and that I need to create a time and space for it. I still can’t do it in public, at least not until I have a good handle on it myself. The support would be nice, but the gaslighting I can’t deal with.
So I shut down, a little. I look for distractions (I don’t have to look hard). I pick and choose my confidants. I try to carve out some space. Please be patient with me.
I’m back to a daily practice of writing, which is good. I have noticed, however, that it’s pretty difficult to come up with anything to write about without some inspiration. I packed up Orion and headed off to the Minneapolis Institute of Art.
We were joined by Karina and two of her friends. We didn’t have long and wandered the areas she prefers, including the galleries with Native and Indigenous art. I didn’t take a lot of photos either, as I really just wanted to be in the moment.
One of the reasons we went is because Karina has been talking about going for awhile. A year ago she went off to training for her job. There was little to do in a strange city and she ended up visiting a Native American museum. It opened her eyes. Not to Native American art, but to how fortunate she was to have the resources in the Twin Cities.
Yesterday she stood in one small gallery and said “This room, this one room, has a better exhibition of Native Art than that whole museum did.” (And it’s free!). I made a point to visit the Native American Museum in Manhattan the last time we were in New York and I’d had the same impression. They did a lovely job of displaying the progression of tribal cultures across America. It’s not a big museum. The featured modern artists work was lovely. But most of the historical pieces were not as culturally representative as similar (and more abundant) pieces often exhibited at the MIA.
We have periods where we increase our collective awareness of the Native cultures that surround us. 2017 was the year many people were made aware of the mass execution in Mankato. We northerners like to think of ourselves as above racism, but there is plenty here and a significant amount of it is directed towards the Native community.
We are privileged to have so much access to arts in the Twin Cities. We are privileged that our art community uses that art to educate, to inspire, and to activate the local community. We are grateful to the support that the art community has, which enables them to offer access for free. Maybe I’m inspired just to visit more often.
FOR FURTHER REFERENCE:
Local Native Galleries:
I do love to read and although I’m not keeping up in the reviewing department I have been catching up on the stack of books sitting beside my chair. As an author I have a great appreciation for readers. I am delighted when people are interested in my books. As a reader I am not a good friend to authors.
Perhaps it’s the introvert in me that makes me resistant to reaching out to the authors I admire. I am well over the shyness I had as a child. I’ve worked with the public. I can talk to anyone if I have to. I’m just not inclined to reach out first, even with my good friends.
I had the opportunity this weekend to be an author in public. My writer’s group hosted a book fair. I went and had a good time. One of the other women in the group offered to share a table with me. That made stepping away for a little break a lot easier. It also encouraged me to have some conversation. In that context, talking to other authors is interesting and easy.
I did a reading which was well attended. I got a lot of questions both curious and contentious. I find it amusing when people think I’m against them and try to challenge me. I’ve come to a place in my life where I can stand pretty comfortably in my truth and not get defensive. I have a calling. I write from a point of view. If you need me to have further credentials then I’m not your gal.
Some of the most delightful people I talked to were clearly extraverts. I love getting caught up in that kind of energy and carried along for a short bit. One of the women I spoke with writes about and advocates for women recovering from the sex trafficking industry. I have no exposure or experience outside of the news so I was truly interested in hearing her story.
At the table next to us was an author who writes mysteries. That’s not a genre I’m particularly attracted to as a reader. It was fun to eavesdrop on her conversations as she sold her books and to talk to her as well. I am intrigued and might have to check out her series.
There was a great variety of styles, genre’s, topics represented at the fair. I managed to leave without buying a book, but it was really hard. I have a few on my list for later, once I get to the bottom of my reading pile.
It’s been a very busy week in the country. Goodbye to our first black first family. Hello to a new president followed by the largest protest ever launched in America. In fact, protesting our new president and his anti-women, anti-civil rights agenda was a world wide event.
At times like these it can seem easier to just put your head in the sand. To turn off, tune out and escape the madness that surrounds us. Unfortunately, that kind of escapism historically leads to even worse problems, even more oppression. There’s a reason the poem is popular:
First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.
Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
Still, even the most dedicated activists need a little break. So we turn on the TV, we read a book, we go to the movies, or the theater Time out can be mindless, but it can also be mind expanding. Star Trek aired the first interracial kiss, Will and Grace increased awareness and acceptance of the gay community. Hamilton not only educates us on our history but examplifies colorblind casting and the actual immigrant experience that has made America what it is today. Many people had never heard of Turing until The Imitation Game. Even fewer were aware of the women – human computers – who helped put our men in space.
I got to see Hidden Figures this weekend. What a remarkable piece of American history – good and bad. This movie demonstrates some of the underlying complaints I hear about everything that happened this weekend. This “separate and not anywhere near equal” is the America our president things was great. This white feminism has no room for black women becomes blatantly apparent in historical context. That “keep your head down and don’t cause trouble” doesn’t create change that needs to happen is obvious in hindsight.
Uppity women, demanding a place at the table, demanding to be heard plays better with a good screen writer. But those women are still out there in our workplaces. Angry black women may not have to find a colored bathroom, but that doesn’t mean they are welcomed when they come in, they’re almost as scary as transgendered women! The education disparity continues to be enormous, resources available to white children are just “not in the budget” for children of color. Is it any wonder resourceful kids will do anything to get ahead of the game?
This year I’m seeing a lot of reading challenges. Lists to encourage people to use their escape time to expand their point of view. So I’m also taking on a challenge. I’m back reviewing books on lisaspiralreads. There are already 50 book reviews there, and I’m challenging myself to review another 50 this year. I’m trying to tag and categorize to fit the reading challenge requirements I’ve been seeing. Check it out!
Hope you use your escape wisely!
Today is a national day of recognition for the civil rights movement. Here are some, perhaps less familiar excerpts from great speakers about civil rights:
But we refuse to believe that the bank of justice is bankrupt. We refuse to believe that there are insufficient funds in the great vaults of opportunity of this nation.
It would be fatal for the nation to overlook the urgency of the moment. This sweltering summer of the Negro’s legitimate discontent will not pass until there is an invigorating autumn of freedom and equality. 1963 is not an end, but a beginning.
There are those who are asking the devotees of civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” We can never be satisfied as long as the Negro is the victim of the unspeakable horrors of police brutality. We can never be satisfied as long as our bodies, heavy with the fatigue of travel, cannot gain lodging in the motels of the highways and the hotels of the cities. We cannot be satisfied as long as the Negro’s basic mobility is from a smaller ghetto to a larger one. We can never be satisfied as long as our children are stripped of their selfhood and robbed of their dignity by signs stating for whites only. We cannot be satisfied as long as a Negro in Mississippi cannot vote and a Negro in New York believes he has nothing for which to vote. No, no, we are not satisfied and we will not be satisfied until justice rolls down like waters and righteousness like a mighty stream
From: Martin Luther King – I have a dream
In the white community, the path to a more perfect union means acknowledging that what ails the African-American community does not just exist in the minds of black people; that the legacy of discrimination – and current incidents of discrimination, while less overt than in the past – are real and must be addressed. Not just with words, but with deeds – by investing in our schools and our communities; by enforcing our civil rights laws and ensuring fairness in our criminal justice system; by providing this generation with ladders of opportunity that were unavailable for previous generations. It requires all Americans to realize that your dreams do not have to come at the expense of my dreams; that investing in the health, welfare, and education of black and brown and white children will ultimately help all of America prosper.
“Not this time.” This time we want to talk about the crumbling schools that are stealing the future of black children and white children and Asian children and Hispanic children and Native American children. This time we want to reject the cynicism that tells us that these kids can’t learn; that those kids who don’t look like us are somebody else’s problem. The children of America are not those kids, they are our kids, and we will not let them fall behind in a 21st century economy. Not this time.
This time we want to talk about how the lines in the Emergency Room are filled with whites and blacks and Hispanics who do not have health care; who don’t have the power on their own to overcome the special interests in Washington, but who can take them on if we do it together.
This time we want to talk about the shuttered mills that once provided a decent life for men and women of every race, and the homes for sale that once belonged to Americans from every religion, every region, every walk of life. This time we want to talk about the fact that the real problem is not that someone who doesn’t look like you might take your job; it’s that the corporation you work for will ship it overseas for nothing more than a profit.
This time we want to talk about the men and women of every color and creed who serve together, and fight together, and bleed together under the same proud flag. We want to talk about how to bring them home from a war that never should’ve been authorized and never should’ve been waged, and we want to talk about how we’ll show our patriotism by caring for them, and their families, and giving them the benefits they have earned.
From: Barack Obama – A More Perfect Union
The solution to the problem in the kitchen is clearly to do a remodel.
2 [ no obj. ] decide firmly on a course of action: [ with infinitive ] : she resolved to call Dana as soon as she got home.
That means calling contractors and getting bids to take to the bank to get a loan.
3 chiefly Chemistry separate or cause to be separated into components.
Components: Contractor, Banker, Clear the deed, Subordinate city loan, housing for Orion and I while the work goes on.
So far, so good.
• [ no obj. ] (of something seen at a distance) turn into a different form when seen more clearly: the orange glow resolved itself into four lanterns.
Contractors don’t want to waste their time writing up a bid on work that I 1. May not be able to afford or 2. May hire someone else for
The season is upon us and contractors already have work (with a GO) lined up.
There is probably more to do than I can afford and I have to prioritize.
This isn’t going to happen quickly.
The contractors who could do the work faster have larger teams/businesses and also larger prices.
Resolve: noun firm determination to do something: she received information that strengthened her resolve | she intended to stick to her initial resolve.
The only way this is going to happen is if I just keep plugging away at it.
Actually my whole life seems a little like this right now. I put the gardening on hold, not knowing what will be torn up. I can’t take it so I spent the weekend planting. I’ve mostly got things in containers, so they could be moved. But if this isn’t going to start until August I want tomatoes and basil!
The lawn has been mowed. That required having the tractor overhauled. The blades needed sharpening and there was a nut that disappeared.
The hose has a huge hole in it. It actually has for sometime. I bought a new hose long enough ago I can’t remember. I dug it out of the garage and hooked it up. It actually reaches everything! (Bonus, it doesn’t leak.)
Bills still need to be paid, and credit cards paid off – going back to the issues with the bank. I need to find time to write, time to garden, time to tend to Orion, time out for myself.
It all comes down to resolve.
When the sun is shining and the breeze is keeping the bugs away I have to remember not to play hookey from my life. I also have to remember to take a minute and appreciate the day.
I resolve to do both!
Definitions from the New Oxford American Dictionary
This isn’t the post I was going to write today. I was going to write about being outside. I was going to write about enjoying a campfire. I was going to write about going sailing.
Then I spilled a full mug of hot tea into my lap.
Besides worrying about getting burned and changing clothes and what a mess I made I also worried about what was in my lap. My laptop.
I threw rice at it (because that’s what you do) but I didn’t have much in the house. I’m not really eating rice since the bariatric surgery. I went on my way and enjoyed the day on the water without thinking too much about it.
Monday morning, the time of reckoning.
It turns on, which is a good sign. It seems like there’s a key stuck. There’s all sorts of things being entered even when I’m not touching the keyboard. When I try to type in something there are all kinds of extra characters. I can’t log in.
I have my fingers crossed that there’s a piece of rice stuck under a key rather than the keyboard shorting out. I’m afraid I’m not very hopeful about that. So I have to think about what’s next.
My website designer is reading this shaking her head. She pretty much tells me to back up every time we talk. It didn’t come up yesterday, so this is the first time she’s hearing this story.
I recognize the importance of backing up. I’ve done it now and again. I don’t have an automatic set-up. I don’t have a “system” where I back up every Friday (or whatever). In fact, despite the regular reminders from my tech support I’m not really sure when I did my last back-up.
Not only am I unsure of when, I’m also not entirely sure of where. There’s got to be a thumb drive somewhere in the house with my files and photos (at least from maybe 6 months ago?) I’ve got a few thoughts about where it might be, but they’re tenuous at best.
Even if I find them I know I’m missing most of my latest book, photos that I’ve deleted from the phone and not shared on the web, and several recipes. I couldn’t say for sure what else, because my computer is the brains of this operation.
The stuff on the internet is redeemable, but it’s not in one place. There’s no guarantee I can find it all or get it all back. There’s a photo I’m particularly grateful I put on my phone under my parents’ number. There’s another of Karina and my recent haircuts that if I didn’t share it on a blog may be lost forever.
So if I go to the genius bar today (you know they require you make appointments on line. That’s a challenge when your computer is broken!) wish me luck. And BACK-UP YOUR COMPUTER!
There’s a blog that’s been spinning around in my head for the past week. It just won’t seem to come out. I’ve had time to work at it, and have found plenty of other things to do instead. I have tried to make it coalesce in my head, and have found myself dozing in my chair.
Now it’s Monday and I’ve got, nothing. The problem with procrastination is that it adds stress to what’s usually already a stressful situation. It anticipates things will get easier, but there is no basis in empiric evidence.
I’ve been putting off getting Orion a haircut. I keep thinking it will be nice enough to walk. Then it snows. This week there are temps predicted in the 70’s. (There are also temps predicted in the 30’s). If I wait, will that happen on the day when I have time? Will I feel up to it physically? Will I have overbooked myself?
I’m trying to get through my list of things “to do” without putting things off so long. Inevitably something slips through. I don’t get enough sleep and something falls off the list. I get stuck in traffic and time runs short. I am faced with something that HAS to be done RIGHT NOW and so the thing that’s been put off gets put off again.
He loves going on Weekend Ventures. They’ve changed their notification system for registering. I no longer have a piece of paper lying around that I have to keep moving (and therefore am continually reminded). I get an email and in less than a day it’s no longer on my screen. Out of sight, out of mind. I didn’t do it IMMEDIATELY and now I hope I’m not too late!