My life is a country song

My dog was my best friend and when he died,
I buried him off the trail of one of our favorite hikes.
The seats and windows in my Jeep are ripped up.
My ex-girlfriend just got married to a guy that looks like me.
I went for a three-day hike off the trail and into a thunderstorm
with my best friends and my legs are scratched and bitten beyond human recognition.
I used to own goats and I want to be a farmer.

I like to lay out in a field and watch shooting stars with my best gal.
I pick blackberries for her and call her my huckleberry.
I work at an auto parts store but I'd rather be camping.
Get me out of town and I'm a happy man.


My life is a country song.

The story of why I was at this artist thing

People keep askin' if I be writin' stories. 

(Please don't hold my faux-grammar against me.)

I keep saying no, and they look disappointed, like, why are you at this artist gathering?

Well, I figure I'm old enough to decide who I want to hang out with.

And I like people who are artists and storytellers.

I like to listen to their stories, and find mine in theirs.

Why am I here?

Well, I'd like to tell a good story some day. 

Like that girl from Cold Comfort Farm, I want to be a writer when I'm 50.

Like her, I bet I'll tell more stories with people than with paper.


I'm not sure I'm old enough to decide who I want to be.

But I keep choosing.  By saying yes, and saying no.

disquiet

Once upon a time, I had a friend who was a realtor.  He liked to sell houses and condos and be involved in business transactions and be professional and ask all his young friends if they wanted to buy houses.

Which was cute, and helpful, and terrifying.

Which caused me to stress out again, and die, and be very sad, and decide that I was doing everything wrong, and be afraid about money, and judge other people by whether or not they could buy houses, and then just generally start spiraling down the staircase of depression. 

Then I wrote about it.  And did not die.  And thought about a brick vicarage in Cambridge, and all the parsonages I grew up in  and how I never thought I would have to/think about/be able to buy a house.  Ever.  And how now is a great time to start thinking about it, but perhaps later is fine, as well. 

Turmoil and angst and wishing for a miracle.  Is this how everyone feels? 

I'm still disquieted in my spirit.

the hair and the restless

Hi, yes... I'm thirty and I'm wearing all my hair on top of my head in a ridiculously oversized bun.  Why?  Because I didn't want to wash it last night or this morning.  Because I thought it would work.  Because I live on the edge.  It's two hours till close at work, and the thing is still up, mostly, stacked precariously and held loosely by a hair band and bobby pins, rolling over to one side a little.   In my mind, it's just about to break loose, with enough stray hairs to tether a hot air balloon.  My window is open to my right, breeze blowing, and even though my armpits are sweating, and I close it to a crack because I worry about defectors.  Hairs that just give up the ghost, lose their will to stand upright.

The girls downstairs, and even the boss's son who stopped by to say hi to pa, have commented on my hair today and how good it looks.  I sent a picture of an "I'm over it" me-with-bun to my boyfriend today, grumbling about how one side of my head hurt because the roots of my hair don't like being told what to do... basically to stand on their heads (or mine) when they're used to sloughing off. 

I have restless body syndrome, and I can't stop swinging my crossed leg back and forth-- pumping, actually.  My back doesn't hurt today, which came as a welcome surprise, and to celebrate, I'm wearing a tee shirt and tank top and sweater.  Even though the day is warm for a NW summer.  The sweater is white, and it's camouflage so I'm not wearing all black like a witch (yeah, charcoal gray long skirt and black t-shirt).  Also, the board room is ridiculously cold in the summer, with AC blasting like a 90's boom box.  Hence: sweater.

I'm still pumping my leg, sitting at my desk, going over the month's billing cycle.
Half an hour to go, and I'm swinging my foot moderately.
Ten minutes, and still going.
ADHD.

play time

Be joyful, though you have considered all the facts.
[Wendell Berry]

 

What have you been doing lately?

Oh!  Hello there!  How has your summer been?
Cool.  Glad to hear it.  Uh-huh.  I know, right? 
Mine? Let's see... what did I do this weekend?

And that's when my mind goes blank.

Well, he came over, and I forget after that.
I don't know what we do...
Probably the same things most people do.
Eat food, clean up, lounge around, watch movies,
take walks, hang out with friends, take hikes, drive...
water plants, hug a lot, buy groceries, play with phones,
go to church, write stories, read aloud, laugh and be funny,
plan on spending time with the other's family, buy plane tickets,
be lazy, make lists, help each other process life, let the other cry,
let yourself cry, "pass notes" all day when we're apart, write haiku,
misunderstand, make up, worry, pray, tell secrets, drink tea, thrift shop,
hold hands, learn each other, forgive, notice the seasons, watch the stars,
take pictures, look at water, trim moustaches, clean glasses, wash cars, and
talk on the phone, meet the other's friends, feel anxious, and talk it all over again,
share devotional readings, read cat bible, fairy tales, poetry, fantasy, news articles,
bring over dinner, do rodent and pest control, learn how to fix backs, learn how to kiss,
play games, encourage and affirm, plan dates, make a movie queue, talk about our pasts,
talk about the future (as in next week or next month), talk about what we're going to do now,
try to find motivation to do what we are going to do now, do the thing that we're going to do now,
later.

After a nap, or a hug, or silence, or conversation, or re-thinking, or a trip to the loo, or sunglasses,
or an outfit change, an additional sweater or jacket or scarf, some jeans, shoes vs. flip flops, does my hair need doing, did you bring water and snacks and are we taking my car or your jeep, because if it's open air, I've gotta tether down my hair to keep it from cutting my face for half an hour straight. 

After a week of procrastinating on buying plants again because I am so nervous about starting my own garden.  How much time do I spend on things that everyone spends time on, but not as much as I do?  How do I factor in procrastination and not sound like Hamlet, suspicious, terrified, checking and double-checking, plotting and counter-plotting, all to simply show up and be ready and done in time to die?

I do what people do, what women do, what moms do, just by myself and often with a boy.

I've been to Mexico, but I want to go back