Life has a way of putting you in your place. It has a way of forcing you to be grateful for the good things that happen to you, because it also gives you heartache. I am grateful for so much in my life and although the times of disappointment and failure and fear and trauma and pain have taken their toll on me, I am grateful for what they have taught me and the times they have given me.
I met a person in Texas who changed my perspective and altered the path of my life. In the beginning, she talked with me until our eyelids became weights. In the middle, she kissed me until sunrise. In the end, she broke my heart. Two thirds of our time was great, but I will always wear the scar she gave me as a reminder of the consequences of risk. For now it feels fresh and painful and unexplainable. Later I will pull out the pictures and remember how it once felt to be someone's other, someone's more than a friend, someone's girlfriend. I wrote so many personal journal entries for years wondering why no one that I liked ever liked me back. One day it happened and it was real for a moment, and then it was gone. I am, however grateful for everything, even the pain I feel right now. For this pain means that I loved someone and although it is lost forever in the future, it lives forever in my heart.
Friday, December 10, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
When you're going through hell keep going
My Mom once sent me Winston Churchill's wisdom on a refrigerator magnet. It's true. Why can't a happy slice of success just be a happy occasion? There always has to be someone in your life fucking with you and making you feel like you can't do anything right.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
Pills, Bills, and Mountainous Hills
Who do I know in their twenties that is not constantly wrestling between thoughts of positive potential for the future and thoughts of failure, disgrace, and depression? Unfortunately, most of my friends seem pretty damn happy, stable, and well...married. I suppose I received more eye rolls at my ideas, when I was younger than my friends, but I cannot help but wish I were them sometimes. It would be nice to know that you have a place of your own to go home to every night after your stable job. It would be nice to know that you have someone who loves you so much he or she offers assurance that they want to be with you for a very long time. I guess that I never realized that all of the "normal" parts of adulthood would be so stressful. Maybe I make them stressful through my choices and own obscene mind. I just want to go camping when I make plans to camp, so I can buy s'more fixins' and snacks. I sort of want my old life back and at the same time am so addicted and in love with my new life that it breaks my heart with the thought of giving it up. Everyday, I just really miss my Grandma, because when it came down to it, she was always the Bestest Person, Thing, and Idea in the whole wide world. I want to be brave like her.
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Wild Berry Zinger
Tea Time at my Grandma's made me so giddy that I hopped. It was a special occasion, maybe I was sleeping over or we had just finished Chinese food, when someone would get the idea to put on the tea pot. Coffee mugs would be lined up awaiting the impending boiling water. We would pick our tea, traditionally from a variety box of Celestial Seasoning and my Grandma would always choose Wild Berry Zinger. I would remove my special zoo cup from the cupboard, wrapped in a plastic bag and taped, so no one else would use it. The cup had dancing, happy, clothed zoo animals on it and fit perfectly into my hand. The water would begin to steam and the stove would be turned off. The cups with tea bags already inserted would be filled with boiling water that immediately changed colors upon impact. My Grandma's Wild Berry Zinger would turn a dark purple and would zing with a berry berry aroma. We would add half and half and let the white swirl until it mixed with the tea. My Grandma always wanted me to add a half spoonful of honey and let it cool. I would push her cup to the edge of the table, so she could reach it from her wheelchair and we would talk about the time she hit a the boy in her class over the head with a baseball bat. We would sip tea and time would stop. My bestest friend, a cup of tea, and seemingly all the time in the world.
Somewhere in my mess of moving from state to state is the zoo cup, an item I inherited upon my Grandma's death. Today would have been my Grandma's 84th birthday, if she were still alive. Maybe we would have batted a balloon back and forth together, eaten grilled cheese, and in the evening sipped Wild Berry Zinger from a cup colored in dancing zoo animals.
Somewhere in my mess of moving from state to state is the zoo cup, an item I inherited upon my Grandma's death. Today would have been my Grandma's 84th birthday, if she were still alive. Maybe we would have batted a balloon back and forth together, eaten grilled cheese, and in the evening sipped Wild Berry Zinger from a cup colored in dancing zoo animals.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Popcorn in a metal bowl
My dad makes the best popcorn on planet Earth. In his scorched and broken popcorn popper he pops red kernels while standing over the stove in his girl's AAU sweatpants, knitted slippers, Detroit Red Wings sweatshirt, and knit cap. Usually he hums as he retrieves the set of variously-sized metal bowls to fill for each family member watching a different television show simultaneously. The Dodd family has never done the Friday night TGIF family line-up together. Years ago, it may have been tried, but was quickly abandoned due to remote controls hurled across the room at siblings' heads and wet sobs saturating the popcorn. Thus we occupy all five televisions. However we do all share a common fondness for freshly popped popcorn...my Dad's freshly popped popcorn.
When the the popcorn popping in the popper becomes a weaker pop, he pulls the pan from the burner and distributes the white puffs into the variously sized metal bowls. He sprinkles salt and sometimes pepper or Parmesan cheese onto the corn and distributes it amongst the television viewers. Crunch.
Often my Dad surprises me with a metal bowl full of freshly popped popcorn and I unfailingly have just brushed my teeth. Unfailingly he says, "You can brush 'em again. Eat your popcorn!" I miss my Dad's popcorn. I haven't lived at home for sometime and thus have not tasted his popcorn for sometime. I haven't even talked to my dad in awhile. We don't have much of a phone call relationship, but more of a road trip across country relationship.
I hadn't thought about my Dad's popcorn in awhile, until I was laying in bed watching the season premiere of Glee on my computer. There was a knock on my room door and I soon found it to be John, the farmer I work for. He apologized for not making dinner, which I found to be ridiculous. I usually fend for myself and welcomed the chance to tonight. Usually the stove top is brimming with stockpots and cast iron pans cooking enough food to feed an orchestra. Looking at all of the cooking food day-after-day makes me tired. Occasionally I just want to put some peanut butter on bread and call it a night. Tonight was my night. I sneaked in from the library to an empty stove top, grabbed a bagel from the cupboard, some pesto, and bott.a.bing bott.a.bang - dinner! I scurried upstairs, typed hulu.com into my search engine, and started watching Glee. My Glee addiction started in Texas during my second season at TOS. My "sister" Jess, K, and I would stay up late in the office watching every episode diligently. Tonight, as I watched from a lonely room in Chimacum, WA, I remembered those days fondly-the beginning of everything, before the sleepless nights of worry mixed with the frolic of new countryside.
Glee had just begun when John came into my room to apologize for the lack of dinner. I told him that I had found something to eat and was quite content. "Would you like some popcorn?" He said in a caring voice. I thought about it for a moment and decided that popcorn would make an excellent compliment to my Glee viewing and said, "Sure." About ten minutes later John came up the stairs with a metal bowl filled with white, puffed kernels. Popcorn in a metal bowl...but not my Dad's.
I guess before this ramble commenced, I wanted to reach a moral. I tried to think of a metaphor that compares popcorn to life, but it didn't sound decent. I suppose my moral is this: Enjoy your Dad's popcorn, because you never know when the Pop will stop!
When the the popcorn popping in the popper becomes a weaker pop, he pulls the pan from the burner and distributes the white puffs into the variously sized metal bowls. He sprinkles salt and sometimes pepper or Parmesan cheese onto the corn and distributes it amongst the television viewers. Crunch.
Often my Dad surprises me with a metal bowl full of freshly popped popcorn and I unfailingly have just brushed my teeth. Unfailingly he says, "You can brush 'em again. Eat your popcorn!" I miss my Dad's popcorn. I haven't lived at home for sometime and thus have not tasted his popcorn for sometime. I haven't even talked to my dad in awhile. We don't have much of a phone call relationship, but more of a road trip across country relationship.
I hadn't thought about my Dad's popcorn in awhile, until I was laying in bed watching the season premiere of Glee on my computer. There was a knock on my room door and I soon found it to be John, the farmer I work for. He apologized for not making dinner, which I found to be ridiculous. I usually fend for myself and welcomed the chance to tonight. Usually the stove top is brimming with stockpots and cast iron pans cooking enough food to feed an orchestra. Looking at all of the cooking food day-after-day makes me tired. Occasionally I just want to put some peanut butter on bread and call it a night. Tonight was my night. I sneaked in from the library to an empty stove top, grabbed a bagel from the cupboard, some pesto, and bott.a.bing bott.a.bang - dinner! I scurried upstairs, typed hulu.com into my search engine, and started watching Glee. My Glee addiction started in Texas during my second season at TOS. My "sister" Jess, K, and I would stay up late in the office watching every episode diligently. Tonight, as I watched from a lonely room in Chimacum, WA, I remembered those days fondly-the beginning of everything, before the sleepless nights of worry mixed with the frolic of new countryside.
Glee had just begun when John came into my room to apologize for the lack of dinner. I told him that I had found something to eat and was quite content. "Would you like some popcorn?" He said in a caring voice. I thought about it for a moment and decided that popcorn would make an excellent compliment to my Glee viewing and said, "Sure." About ten minutes later John came up the stairs with a metal bowl filled with white, puffed kernels. Popcorn in a metal bowl...but not my Dad's.
I guess before this ramble commenced, I wanted to reach a moral. I tried to think of a metaphor that compares popcorn to life, but it didn't sound decent. I suppose my moral is this: Enjoy your Dad's popcorn, because you never know when the Pop will stop!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
There's a Cat in My Bed!!!
Currently, there is a cat in my bed, snuggling next to my right leg on this cold, rainy, Pacific Northwest night. I should have gone to bed almost 2 hours ago, the reminiscing about snow with Alphabet got me in the mood to write.
I am laying in a new bed, again, in a new house, with a new family in Chimacum, WA. I am working on an organic farm, but this farm offers more than a pungent flower. Having worked on the farm for just over a week, I have already worked with bees, built a chicken coop, moved a sheep fence, worked with strawberries, harvested squash, dealt with chickens...It's a wonderful experience, but not really what I want to write about at this moment.
A few months ago, my nightly ritual was to sit on the dock on a lake in Texas next to K, shoot the breeze, and listen for splashes in the lake. We convinced ourselves that these splashes were not hungry bass, but lake LBJ dolphins and so we listened. We watched and listened for months and months, through cold chills and warm breezes. For me, there was no other place that I would have rather been, but with K listening for those dolphins. The days moved through each other and we both eventually left Texas. I turned off my ignition in Colorado and she in Washington. Then a storm fluttered by and I started my ignition and vacationed in Michigan for a couple of weeks, before I drove to Vashon. The details are now important, but only as a reminder of the the reasons we believe in what and whom. Sometimes you get that feeling and you just know that you have to be somewhere else. Thus I found myself on the lavender farm and eventually in Chimacum. K and I found ourselves, last Sunday night, on a dock in Port Townsend, WA watching and listening in the cool night air...then suddenly a puff...and again. We bent our knees and strained our eyes to the distant water polluted by the yacht club light. A fin splash! More puffs! Our hearts were racing as we hugged each other like a kid hugs his aunt after receiving a Super Soaker 2000. Orcas, we assumed were swimming in the distance and we were in Port Townsend, WA, together on a dock...listening. What strange courses life takes us through. A few short months ago neither of us could have predicted this moment and if we had, neither of us would have believed it. It happened, though and I am grateful.
Life is amazingly good right now. I am working in a field that I have always wanted to try, living in a beautiful place, and I have someone willing to scratch my finger when it is bee stung, triple in size, and filled with puss. That my friend is special.
I am laying in a new bed, again, in a new house, with a new family in Chimacum, WA. I am working on an organic farm, but this farm offers more than a pungent flower. Having worked on the farm for just over a week, I have already worked with bees, built a chicken coop, moved a sheep fence, worked with strawberries, harvested squash, dealt with chickens...It's a wonderful experience, but not really what I want to write about at this moment.
A few months ago, my nightly ritual was to sit on the dock on a lake in Texas next to K, shoot the breeze, and listen for splashes in the lake. We convinced ourselves that these splashes were not hungry bass, but lake LBJ dolphins and so we listened. We watched and listened for months and months, through cold chills and warm breezes. For me, there was no other place that I would have rather been, but with K listening for those dolphins. The days moved through each other and we both eventually left Texas. I turned off my ignition in Colorado and she in Washington. Then a storm fluttered by and I started my ignition and vacationed in Michigan for a couple of weeks, before I drove to Vashon. The details are now important, but only as a reminder of the the reasons we believe in what and whom. Sometimes you get that feeling and you just know that you have to be somewhere else. Thus I found myself on the lavender farm and eventually in Chimacum. K and I found ourselves, last Sunday night, on a dock in Port Townsend, WA watching and listening in the cool night air...then suddenly a puff...and again. We bent our knees and strained our eyes to the distant water polluted by the yacht club light. A fin splash! More puffs! Our hearts were racing as we hugged each other like a kid hugs his aunt after receiving a Super Soaker 2000. Orcas, we assumed were swimming in the distance and we were in Port Townsend, WA, together on a dock...listening. What strange courses life takes us through. A few short months ago neither of us could have predicted this moment and if we had, neither of us would have believed it. It happened, though and I am grateful.
Life is amazingly good right now. I am working in a field that I have always wanted to try, living in a beautiful place, and I have someone willing to scratch my finger when it is bee stung, triple in size, and filled with puss. That my friend is special.
Friday, August 13, 2010
Shooooot Daaang!
Shoot Dang. Since my computer had some sort of nasty virus, I have not been able to blog. However, with the virus eating away more, and more of my internet capabilities, and my current situation as a paid couch potato, I decided to remedy the problem. Although I almost threw my computer out the window of this lovely mansion, the awe-inspiring and thus calming image of Mt. Rainer through the glass settled my frustrations. Thus, we are back in business.
The many months of blogging hiatus have given me some time to think about where I want the nature of this blog to go. Here I am a 25 year-old broke, college educated, career-confused, nomadic, virtually unemployed person. As sad and scary as my life sounds, it really isn't too bad. I have, so far managed to: make all of my college loan payments, sustain a car, feed myself, keep a roof over my head, buy the essentials plus a few non, and go on some really awesome adventures. In this economy and in this world, life is tough, especially when you are in your mid-twenties. As alone as I sometimes feel, judging by the lives of a few select friends, I know I am not. This is my life and This Time it IS Going to be Awesome!
Here's the short of it: I live on Vashon Island, WA, but will be moving in less than a week. Where will I go? The answer is somewhat up in the air, but I think it will be Chimacum, WA. Sometimes, when I tell people what I am currently doing, I startle myself. I'm working on a Lavender Farm selling essential oils and sachets to elderly women and olfactory-confused yuppies. I have said the word "lovely" more times in the last month and a half than I ever wanted to in my whole life. Despite it all, I sort of enjoy it. I am ready to be done with the lavender farm, but it was a decent place to go, when I felt like I didn't have anyplace to go.
It seems like I have been doing an interview a day for awhile. I have gotten a few jobs and been denied a few times. It's been an adventure and I'll keep you updated.
The many months of blogging hiatus have given me some time to think about where I want the nature of this blog to go. Here I am a 25 year-old broke, college educated, career-confused, nomadic, virtually unemployed person. As sad and scary as my life sounds, it really isn't too bad. I have, so far managed to: make all of my college loan payments, sustain a car, feed myself, keep a roof over my head, buy the essentials plus a few non, and go on some really awesome adventures. In this economy and in this world, life is tough, especially when you are in your mid-twenties. As alone as I sometimes feel, judging by the lives of a few select friends, I know I am not. This is my life and This Time it IS Going to be Awesome!
Here's the short of it: I live on Vashon Island, WA, but will be moving in less than a week. Where will I go? The answer is somewhat up in the air, but I think it will be Chimacum, WA. Sometimes, when I tell people what I am currently doing, I startle myself. I'm working on a Lavender Farm selling essential oils and sachets to elderly women and olfactory-confused yuppies. I have said the word "lovely" more times in the last month and a half than I ever wanted to in my whole life. Despite it all, I sort of enjoy it. I am ready to be done with the lavender farm, but it was a decent place to go, when I felt like I didn't have anyplace to go.
It seems like I have been doing an interview a day for awhile. I have gotten a few jobs and been denied a few times. It's been an adventure and I'll keep you updated.
Monday, March 22, 2010
One Year and a whole lot of fear
It takes the cake for the worst week of my life, watching my best friend in the world slowly and painfully die. That fucking dry mouth, it comes back to haunt me almost every time that I close my eyes. That feeling of helplessness and just praying that I could somehow slip peacefully away beside her. What else did I really have? I've tried to explain what she meant to me, to many people, but I don't think anyone can fully understand why it hurt so goddamn bad. She was my soul mate-my other half. My Mom has my Dad and Paul to look after. Christian has Laura and Sally. Marianne has Craig. My friends are all married or practically so and no one ever liked me in a mono y mono type of way, but it was all ok, because I had my Grandma. With my Grandma, I knew that we had a very special bond and no one could take that away, until the gods of age and time did. I didn't know what to do. It was like a part of me just died right along side her, so I ran away, basically. My life has been so hard and confusing for the past couple of years that there just didn't seem to be any reason to live, except for her. I knew that she would want me to do good things with my life and help people and see the beauty in everyday. Thus I tried like hell to be the person she saw in me and I am still trying.
Then, it happens out of the blue and you seem to find the one person who gets you for who you are. The one person that you spill out your life story to in the first couple of weeks. The one person that doesn't make you feel like you have to be anyone, but your neurotic, half-crazy self around. The one person who truly makes you a better person, but life is too complicated for simplistic happiness. Nothing ever makes sense and life just barrels on in pools of pain with droplets of happiness that are hard to find.
Then, it happens out of the blue and you seem to find the one person who gets you for who you are. The one person that you spill out your life story to in the first couple of weeks. The one person that doesn't make you feel like you have to be anyone, but your neurotic, half-crazy self around. The one person who truly makes you a better person, but life is too complicated for simplistic happiness. Nothing ever makes sense and life just barrels on in pools of pain with droplets of happiness that are hard to find.
Monday, February 15, 2010
A while without style
I don't know what I am doing in my life. Does anyone? I think I am going crazy.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Because My Mom Told Me to Write
A good friend of mine wrote me an email, yesterday that asked the age or question: Why is life so unfair? Why, Gertrude, I don't know. Life is a shit storm. It will suck your guts out of every single orifice in your body, tie them into knots, blend them in a rusty old coffee grinder, mix them with sulpheric acid until they are the consistency of a YooHoo, before they pour them back into you...through every orifice available, of course.
This said-that's life. It happens to virtually all people. Thus, the question should not be "Why is life so unfair?" but "What can we do to make this unfair life a bit more bearable?" Do I like my life? Eh-it's ok, but there are a lot of aspects of my life that really piss me off. However, I might as well keep going and continue to try to find something that makes me happy. On the way, I might even help make someone else's life a little happier. That's what I am going to try to do.
My friend also has Lyme's Disease. A disease transmitted by a tiny tick that changes the health of your body forever. There is pain, fatigue, depression...This existence of this disease alone should be an answer to the question "Why is life so unfair?" It is random. If a tiny tick can change your life, why should you take anything seriously? You cannot control the shitty shit that happens to you, so why care so much about what other people think? Just live. Do what you want to do. Don't wait. Don't fear. Don't care.
This said-that's life. It happens to virtually all people. Thus, the question should not be "Why is life so unfair?" but "What can we do to make this unfair life a bit more bearable?" Do I like my life? Eh-it's ok, but there are a lot of aspects of my life that really piss me off. However, I might as well keep going and continue to try to find something that makes me happy. On the way, I might even help make someone else's life a little happier. That's what I am going to try to do.
My friend also has Lyme's Disease. A disease transmitted by a tiny tick that changes the health of your body forever. There is pain, fatigue, depression...This existence of this disease alone should be an answer to the question "Why is life so unfair?" It is random. If a tiny tick can change your life, why should you take anything seriously? You cannot control the shitty shit that happens to you, so why care so much about what other people think? Just live. Do what you want to do. Don't wait. Don't fear. Don't care.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)