ferocious introvert

The Toothpaste of Honesty. and the Fire

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 06:14:00 +0000

Drawing is one of my favorite things, but I have to make time to do it.
I sit down early in the morning with a blank page and then 'see' what appears in the white.

But sometimes it feels like a wave and I am a panicky surfer.

Reasons why:

The contractual deal between the drawings and me is that I accept what comes through. And it's probably good for me, but it's not always awesome. It's like some delicious Detox Tea that sometimes makes me feel better, and sometimes not.

And once I've drawn something, and acknowledged a truth I may have peripherally or begrudgingly known, it now exists. No unknowing it now...

* * *

So the toothpaste? (Stay with me as I switch metaphors) The toothpaste from the truth tube is out now. I can either throw it away or I can use it. I choose to use it, and explore a bit more. I toss it onto the fire from whence the toothpaste (?) originally came.

And just when the fire is getting exciting.....

It's time to blend into situations that aren't about the toothpaste of honesty. But the fire continues to simmer, whether I like it or not.

Back.

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 01 Oct 2012 02:59:00 +0000

Okay. I'll just acknowledge the obvious in date stamps. It's been almost a year.

Without sounding navel-gazey or self-important, my drawings in the last year have been more personal, which is kind of my shtick, but there's a fine line between personal (interesting! relatable!) and self-indulgent (my own personal problems are so interesting). Don't get me wrong, I am filling up journals like crazy with drawings that make sense to me, and help me make sense of things. But I feel like in order to cross the chasm from I-get-it to You-get-it-too, there's some forging I need to do. And I haven't felt like forging.

But in the last week, a couple of you have written and asked 'what's up with the blog?' I appreciate it. I'm taking it as a kick in the ass to start posting again (I didn't realize it until today but I kind of missed it). So let's see if there's anything to forge...

Join Hands

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Thu, 17 Nov 2011 04:20:00 +0000

In Kenya, we stayed in the Ngong hills, outside Nairobi. Our job while we were there was to teach at the local public school. We were staying on a small farm, surrounded by other small farms. So we saw lots of goats, cows, sheep and shepherds. The shepherds often had the tribal ear plug earrings (note to hipsters: when you don't have the huge ear bolts in, you can wrap your ear lobes around your upper cartilage. Clever), walking sticks and cell phones.

It was a 45-minute hike to school each day. The only thing is, all the cattle paths looked the same. Even if you knew the general vicinity you were heading, one wrong cow path and you'd add 20 minutes to your trip.

Luckily, the local kids were happy to escort us. Apparently, two white ladies huffing across the hills was unusual enough that the kids from school tracked down where we were staying. Kids would hide in the bushes and giggle and watch us. If they were brave, they would answer back 'How are YOU?'

Because clocks were in short supply this was handy in the morning.

A steady stream of kids meant we were probably late to take a 'shower' (aka sponge bath al fresco).

We did a homestay with a local family. One night the six-year-old grandson Alex spontaneously busted out a Maasai song and dance for us while we waited for dinner. We were so floored, we tried to think of a song to sing for him. We couldn't think of anything to capture the essence of America, of our spirit. So we sang 'If you're happy and you know it...' Which was even a little bit disappointing to the kids.

* * *

The hikes to school became such a beautiful part of the day - being outside and saying hello to cows and goats and birds and shepherds and flowers and trees. And the kid crowds began to swell, fighting over who got to hold our hands.

The first time it happened, I hoped that no one would look at me because I'd started to cry.

The kids would usually carry walking sticks to school, just like the men.

One morning, we noticed one little dude carrying a little plug of a stump. 'Oahhh' we said, 'he got stuck with a bad walking stick,'

No no, one of our hosts explained. It's polite to bring firewood to someone's house if they are going to feed you. Since the kids got fed at lunch, they were bringing wood for the fire. So little dude was sharper than we were.

There was one little guy, Paul, couldn't have been more than a first grader.

The kids would use the English words they knew with us. So we'd go through 'eyes', 'nose', 'mouth'. After saying 'mouth' I'd make a 'mwah!' noise for exaggeration.

I felt like the most gifted comedienne ever to walk the planet, the way that Paul would laugh. And we'd do it over and over, his grubby, lunchy hand in mine as we sweated our way home.

A few days after the 'Happy and You Know It' misfire, I thought of the right song to sing on the walk to school. And this video (while grainy) sums up the feeling beautifully.

A travel update. Truly.

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 05 Sep 2011 02:23:00 +0000

I've been planning a trip to Kenya for the last few months. Much to my chagrin, I've been dwelling on it and getting organized about it. I told everyone that I was doing a 'practice pack' this weekend (Nerd. I know).

Next week, after a few sweet days in Amsterdam, my friend Molly and I will be headed to Nairobi.

We'll be volunteering for two weeks in a remote village. No electricity or running water.
I've got my vaccinations (yellow fever, typhoid, hepatitis A&B, meningitis, tetanus, dip-tet, polio booster) and my anti-malaria medication.

When people ask why I'm going, I've haven't been able to put my finger on it. But one morning I drew this picture, which articulated it for me.
I'm hungry to look into a different world that seems wild to me. Even if it's only a threat to my email addiction.
I'm grateful for the opportunity of adventure - going somewhere unpredictable and unknown and seeing what I can learn.
(Right now) I look forward to finding comfort outside my zone.
I'll be back in a few weeks. Hopefully with a few tales to tell.

I am selfish

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 01 Aug 2011 05:35:00 +0000

I went to the gym to go swimming.

The need to exercise had been building for days.

So much so, that when I saw a friend I wanted to talk to, I kept one eye on the clock; I had a finite window before my next commitment.

When I got to the locker room, I overheard that someone had passed out, so paramedics were coming.

The locker room is atwitter about the woman who's passed out. She'd apparently been in the hot tub for about an hour.

Suit on. No paramedic sightings. I shower and stride towards the pool. Two lifeguards are beside an older woman on a stretcher with an oxygen mask.

A little background: another friend who belongs to the same gym told me she'd been horrified when she'd gotten faint when trying to sweat out a cold, because when someone saw that she was feeling unwell, they called 911.

So yeah, maybe I was a bit brazen about the woman who'd passed out.

Since I wasn't able to wait with a runner's block for the pool to open, I stomped into the sauna. I could tell that my impatience was putting people off.

And then the tears came.

The other woman left and then tears turned into sobs.

There's something freeing about throwing a temper tantrum - you've already gone to the worst place, may as well crack it open.

What I found were deep cries from my belly. I'd been pushing through everything without even talking to myself.

Once I was able to purge all the piled up frustrations, I could be a person again.

When I got out of the pool, I saw the woman who'd passed out. Her daughter was helping her bathe. This moving gesture and my hot shame for not seeing her in a human situation made my tears brim again.

I was about to inquire after the woman when I heard the daughter say...

It's an ongoing lesson.

Goodnight Danny

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Fri, 29 Jul 2011 14:41:00 +0000

On Wednesday, I had to say goodbye to my dog Danny.
You may have seen him in a few posts...

we walked the neighborhood twice a day so he was usually my companion during my observations...

Working at home, we were together almost all the time.

So I could always pop in for a pet or a dog mindmeld.

I'm getting used to his absence. No one bays when an ambulance goes by. There's no jingle of metal tags when I open the back door.

While I have lots of memories, I believe he'd most like me to keep intact the circle of love between our hearts, so that I can share with others.

Good boy.

Danny aka Bubbas, Pally Panda, Danny Boy

2005 - 2011

Birthday Measures

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Wed, 04 May 2011 02:58:00 +0000

Every year before my birthday, like clockwork, I get sad.

It's not because I'm getting older.

It's more looking at what I've accomplished, and then reevaluating what's really important to me. And if I'm closer to bringing that to fruition. Existential stuff.

I hadn't noticed the effect of this pattern until my friend was talking about his birthday parties (which precede my birthday by a week)

I'd been voluntarily grounding myself before my birthday, feeling sad.

It's funny that I tend to be so measureful about time and accomplishment.

I've never said 'You only go around once.'

If I did, I would feel guilty watching Bravo docudramas.

I do believe down time is underrated

My next birthday is near.

But this year I was hip to the pattern. Since I saw it coming I could anticipate and avoid the voluntary grounding.

I was among the living. And I went to my friend's birthday party.

Instead of holing up, I was showing up.

Instead of feeling paralyzed about the past and the future, I hung out in the present.

The measureful sad was still there but it wasn't the only focus. I simply folded it up and packed it into my purse before I went out - one piece but not the whole picture.

String of Lights

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Thu, 07 Apr 2011 04:09:00 +0000

March 11 was a strange day. I knew there was supposed to be some big astrological shift taking place that day. But I didn't think it would be so violent.
I couldn't comprehend the magnitude of an 8.9 earthquake and that buildings were still standing. Gratefully Japan has their shit together for earthquakes.
As I got ready to drive to my morning meeting, I heard tsunami warnings for San Francisco. I double-checked my route to the client site. Yes, I should be fine.

I have a serious fear of earthquakes.
As I got ready to go, my mind was pulsating between the mundane (I should get an apple for the drive, I should make sure to dust the cat hair off my power cord) and the worst case scenario (what if Japan is just the kickoff earthquake and tsunami and the Hayward Fault is going to really rip it up next?)

* * *
But you know what? Nothing happened here.
I drove to my meeting, I met the client. It went well.
It was a sunny day. I ate my apple.
I listened to good music on the way back.
The threat of tsunami passed.
Mundane won.
Not to say there was no damage anywhere. Japan had been ravaged. Some coastal areas were a bit battered.
But since I was okay, it was my responsibility to LIVE and be GRATEFUL.

I went to dinner with great friends.
We went to a fancy southern joint.
The orange velvet chairs made me happy.
The food oozed love.
The big fancy doors were so graceful.
We could afford this spendy dinner.
It was an embarrassment of riches and I wanted to absorb it all.

The next few days as the nuclear reactor situation became grim, my anxiety returned.
Because of my rabid earthquake fear, I deliberately chose not to view any images from the quake or tsunami, as I didn't want to stock that image larder.
But I paid attention to the nuclear reactor news and the radiation.
I just felt so sad, like we really screwed the earth this time.

A friend and I went to visit the redwoods in the hills.
Huge sequoias. This park always makes me feel better, like I'm hanging around wiser (calmer) beings than myself. I had to be REALLY QUIET to hear any wisdom, but it was there. And there was even more deep below the roots.
After a couple of hours with the sequoias, I felt like things would be okay.

* * *
For the next several days, this pattern kept repeating.

Devastating sadness about all the broken hearts in Japan.

And THEN the unfurling list that I, the safe and living person could be grateful for:

I knew that another rain storm was coming so I was able to cut down the danger branches.
I am healthy enough to do that!
I am inside my house while it's raining and I'm dry!
It's a scary storm but everything is fine!
I have a house!

Whenever I felt sad, I could always go to my dog for the classic cheer-up, the dog mind-meld.

This seriously works.

* * *

I don't have any words of wisdom. I don't want to lose the sense of compassion over time.

All I can say is how it's felt: like a lot of darkness with some fabulously brilliant bright spots. Like a string of lights.

Traffic Jam Between the Heart and Head

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Fri, 04 Mar 2011 06:08:00 +0000

What were my patterns that I wanted to change? I had to be crafty here, because when I asked myself this question, my brain had some go-to answers.

However, the instantaneous, gut 'knowing' I've experienced during yoga has expanded my catalog of data points.

Twists are especially good for squeezing out epiphanies.

So when a friend suggested I get some special bodywork done with the intent of removing blocks, it made sense to me. It wasn't as woo-woo as I'd hoped - just talking and then some massage. I mostly felt softer but didn't feel like I 'heard' anything new.

It just made me aware of my throat.

My throat felt aggro.

After that, my relaxation remained though occasionally my throat would start to sizzle on the sides.

So I started to observe what started the sizzling.

Some examples:

Bikram instructors who wanted me to do poses that my body knew weren't right to do.

As well as meeting demands set by others.

Not that either one of these should make me homicidal. They were just symptoms that I didn't feel like I had enough authority in my life.

Ohhhh.

All the Single Ladies - No Coats or Pillows

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 07 Feb 2011 04:07:00 +0000

On a sunny winter day a new friend came over and we worked in the yard. As we excavated three months' worth of weeds, we talked about relationship stuff and she asked questions that unearthed some hibernating assumptions inside me.

Honestly, I had sorta given up on meeting a romantic someone. She and I discussed the unnaturalness of online dating but that really, that was the best way to meet men who were also looking to connect.

My friend was so kind and complimentary that after awhile, I started to wonder why I hadn't again attempted online dating sooner. Besides the timing was good. I'd recently gone to an event where they'd taken pictures. And I now had the...

Full of confidence and optimism, I created an online profile....

...added my best picture ever

...and in the first week

....got pretty much no responses.

I find that in situations where I feel rejected, dejected and like a complete loser the best thing to do is to compare myself unfavorably.

So I thought of my friend who had recently tried online dating and found success in a week.

After a week in the match.com sahara, I gave up.

{Ed. note: The pictures reenacting this week - sitting on the couch eating Chicken in a Biskit crackers, then lying on the couch recovering from said crackers were too depressing to include.}

I know there's a formula to find your person. Online dating? Friends of friends? Leaving your house? All of the above? I just don't know how to crack it.

Within a few days, I began to recover. I realized it's not a black-and-white proposition: just because I'm single doesn't mean my existence has less meaning.

The best way to describe it is this: being by myself is like sleeping without a pillow. I still have a cozy bed, but having a pillow would add a bit more cushion, comfort.

One of my close friends is single and says all the time that she's okay being single; she loves her life. She is also my only friend that won't live anywhere that she needs to own a coat. However, she happens to love Chicago but the no-coat rule eliminates the possibility of her living there.

This reminded me, for a long time, whenever I'd stay as a guest at someone else's house, I'd always refuse a pillow: "Oh no, I don't like them. I'm really okay without one."

* * *

If I was Carrie Bradshaw (which I am gladly not and I'm sorry I have to invoke her name but I am apparently channeling her), I would say 'Are we single ladies because we have learned to live without coats and pillows?'

This post is also syndicated on blogher.com.

The Stuff of Life (part 2 of 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 05:15:00 +0000

Click here for The Stuff of Life (part 1 of 2)

As I got older, my relationship with my dad followed a pretty typical trajectory.

We saw each other pretty regularly, but our stubbornness and different opinions about how to live our lives remained.

Then as my dad got older, his health began to deteriorate.

He was in and out of the hospital.

Finally, his wife called and told me that the doctor had determined the cause of his latest sickness was a tear in his heart. It was a risky surgery and my dad didn't want to do it.

The doctor was going to send him home and set up hospice.

I drove down to Portland, knowing this could be goodbye.

***

My dad was in surprisingly good spirits. He was happy that my aunt and uncle drove over to see him, and that he was surrounded by family.

It made me happy to do little things for him. He was frail and not eating much, so I was happy to bring him pumpkin shakes from Burgerville and that he would drink them. It felt like my special job.

Shake on Monday

But on Wednesday when he didn't want the shake, I put it in the fridge. I noticed he hadn't touched the shake from the day Tuesday, or finished Monday's. He was getting worse.

My brother and I dealt with our grief the best way we knew how.

A hidden gift was the time I got to spend with my dad. Now I understood the lollygag. We'd just sit there, sometimes talking, sometimes holding hands, me usually crying. His heart was so open. It was a new phase of our relationship.

On his last day, dad told the hospice nurse he was ready to go. She said it was pretty unusual that he would say that in front of us. It was a privilege that we were there up until his last breath, as heartbreaking as it was to see him go.

***

In the days after my dad died, the richness he left became more apparent as we told friends and family and they shared their memories.

***

We all agreed unanimously about the spot to spread Dad's ashes.

It was in Oysterville. You can smell it before you arrive.

It felt like the richest, most fertile spot along the peninsula.

Dad would have loved it.

My dad's wife, her daughter, my brother, his wife and their two daughters all joined in.

The fast moving water and the windswept blue sky felt like vibrant life, still moving. The mounds of oyster shells gave off their fecund smell while they waited to host the next generation.

The Stuff of Life (part 1 of 2)

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 04:38:00 +0000

After my dad died, my family gathered on the Washington Coast to spread his ashes.
We only had general ideas so we drove around to feel out the right location.

Too marshy at this spot. Only my brother and my dad's wife even got out of the car here.

* * *

Growing up, we joked that I must belong to a different family.

My family was always late. I have many memories of waiting until it was a reasonable time to leave for school.

So when I could, I'd latch onto the other family, living next door.

Which was great, because my family was on a completely different schedule.

When we took a family road trip to Montana for my great grandmother's birthday, I spent about half the trip riding with my cousins because they were traveling on a timetable.

My family wanted to stop and check out ghost towns, have picnics, experience the countryside.

There is a whole subset of family vacation photos taken while I was traveling with my cousins

I wanted to leave on time, I didn't want to lollygag.

At Halloween, we couldn't ever buy costumes.

My dad always designed our homemade costumes.

I wanted things tidy, inconspicuous and normal.

I wanted to live in a suburb, eat at McDonald's in 15 minutes and have parents that watched 'Happy Days'.

My parents, and in particular my dad, had strong ideas about how we were going to live: we were building our own houses, living communally with another family in a rural, conservative town, we were weird and didn't even have a TV for four years.

My parents were preventing me from Living My Best Life....

--- to be continued...

Look out 2011

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 19:51:00 +0000

Reflecting on my year, this drawing blog has ranked high on the 'What's Good' column.

Because I'm working on another drawing post, I'm channeling my pictures there. So now I must try to use my words. I have so much heartfelt gratitude for those of you who have encouraged, read, commented on, talked to me about and shared these drawings. I've loved doing the drawing but your responses and feedback really turn it into something vital.

New post -- part one of two -- coming this week.
thank you all
Eileen

Outsider Yogini - Busted by the Bottle

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Fri, 24 Dec 2010 01:34:00 +0000

On a recent delicious day off, I had the whole day ahead of me and could do whatever I wanted.

I practice yoga mainly for the inner benefits. But going to an advanced class can make me feel outwardly insecure.

For one, my prototypical yoga ensemb doesn't include cute Lululemon togs.

And I'm not BUILT like an advanced yoga class yogini.

Typical yoga gun versus my hamhock gun

I rushed to the studio. But once I arrived, I saw lots of yoga instructors in class. I felt a bit self-conscious in my yoga outfit (let's be honest: pajamas).

As promised, the class was tough. As the room began to heat up, the familiar smells began to blossom throughout the room. But I was hanging with the advanced crew.

When we had to pair up for handstands, the woman next to me didn't want to partner. I felt like the last one picked for dodgeball. Or not picked.

"I'm not in the right state of mind to support someone else"

So, the teacher and I paired up for handstands.

When she first saw me in class she narrowed her eyes and repeated it was an advanced class. I earned slight street cred working with her; even though I was wearing pajamas and had non-lithe yoga but more hamhock guns, I still could do a strong handstand.

And I made it through 10 of the 13 backbends. I was feeling pretty good.

When I returned from a bathroom break, the scent of the room hit me again. I did a smell check around my mat to ensure that my failure to shower wasn't apparent.

Yoga is an opportunity to learn more about yourself.

I learned that my late night grilled cheese the night before wasn't really a secret anymore.

But I made a good showing at the two-hour advanced class and maintained my low profile status with some dignity. I said goodbye to the teacher before I left.

Then I remembered, the water bottle I'd just bought.

Living with the Risk of Earthquakes

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 29 Nov 2010 02:26:00 +0000

Living in California, the fear of earthquakes are never too far. Specifically, the Next Big One.

Here's where I think about it:

The Transbay Tube
Every time you BART between San Francisco and the East Bay, you travel through 3.6 miles of underwater tunnel on the bottom of the bay.

I find that three-point-six miles is enough time to halt any commute distractions I've got going for some worst case scenarios. In fact, I don't recommend Googling 'transbay tunnel' and 'earthquake' as I just did.

The Waldo Tunnel

Right after the the Golden Gate bridge, you travel through this tunnel in Marin County. It's beautiful scenery. The eucalyptus smells glorious. I sometimes hear angels, as I feel so grateful to live here.

Either the happiest tunnel in the world or the gayest. Unclear.

This cheerful tunnel amidst gorgeous countryside also triggers terrifying earthquake scenarios.

***

So as to not live in denial, I have water and canned goods set aside.

I also have a dog.

After I got him, it occurred to me he could be my early detection system, since animals have extrasensory perception about natural disasters.

Then I talked to someone who experienced the '89 earthquake, with his dog.

***
After seeing a picture of earthquake damage in my 3rd grade social studies book, earthquakes joined UFOs as one of the main terrors I imagined before falling asleep at night.

As a little girl, I couldn't understand people so cavalier to live in California, where they were risking their lives (and their glorious swimming pools), living near a fault.

As an adult, I've come to realize you weigh the benefits and the risks.

There's so much about Northern California, the Bay Area, San Francisco and Oakland that reward me everyday. For me, it's not worth it to play it safe.

(And just so I'm not tempting fate, a little shouty for St. Emydius, who I just learned protects against earthquakes).

I took Project Runway a little hard this year

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 08 Nov 2010 05:53:00 +0000

I think I got too invested in Project Runway this year.

When the winner was announced, I couldn't let it go.

I found myself reading about the final episode after I'd already watched it. Not just one article.

(If you don't have a TV or didn't watch Project Runway, the finale came down to two contestants - Mondo and Gretchen, and Gretchen won. )

Mondo's clothes were always bright and full of patterns -- self-assured and happy.

Gretchen's clothes were current, but they were also a little dreary and a lot brown. They looked like they were too cool to engage.

I had a synthetic brown dress with a similar print in high school. If she is trotting out what I bought at Nordstrom in the 80s, not impressed.

Okay, so the judges made a subjective decision. That's fine. It's a TV show. Moving on.

Or not...

Realizing I was still upset about the fact that Mondo lost, I had to uncover why this had such a lasting effect.

* * *
Mondo proved his badassness in a few ways over the season...

He befriended the guy everyone else picked on.

He was so unabashed in his self-expression. Everyone else could sort of suck it.

This outfit was an homage to The Cotton Club. It freaked me out at first, then I respected the badassness to pull this off.

He revealed the secret he'd kept for 10 years, that he was HIV +...

He designed this pattern to represent his history, and his HIV + status

* * *
It occurred to me that the qualities that Mondo exhibited are ways that I aspire to be more badass -- not falling prey to the crowd mentality, and expressing oneself authentically, even if it's risky.

Those qualities seem prizeworthy. But he didn't win.

I take solace in the fact that my extensive research found lots of other vehement Mondo fans. So maybe his prize is fierce fan loyalty and knowing that he's inspiring others.

But let's get back to the numbers (and a bit of cattiness):
Monda Guerra Facebook fans: 5,700
Gretchen Jones Facebook fans: 12

Grilled Cheese Shame Spiral

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Tue, 26 Oct 2010 04:16:00 +0000

It's fall and time for comfort foods that follow the rhythm of the season.
Apple crisp, sweet potatoes, hearty soups.

Or not.
My hankering is for grilled cheese. Not whole wheat bread with Tillamook.
I want to embrace fall with highly processed food. American cheese.

My grocery store's cheese selection was clearly too high-minded and healthy for this craving.*

*Please know I am not exaggerating about the cheese selection. I haven't had to investigate alternative cheeses for several years.
Production has obviously been stepped up.

Time to get down and dirty. I know who can sell me what I need.

The liquor store.

	I have to ask for it with other refrigerated food behind the counter. shame spiral rating is at 5, because I'm grocery shopping at liquor store
	He tells me the cheese has an expiration date of two weeks ago. shame spiral rating is at 6, because this is why I shouldn't be grocery shopping at liquor store
	He'll give me the cheese, if I want it. I didn't even feign indecision for the people in line behind me.I feel giddy that I will get this American cheese for free. Don't hate.** shame spiral rating = 8. I am not only going to eat this expired cheese but I feel like I just won the American cheese lottery

**I am not super squeamish. But this isn't even real food. I'm pretty sure that the expiration date is just for show.

How was it? Effing delicious.

I ate three grilled cheese sandwiches that day and finished the pack soon thereafter. (Did you realize you don't even have to dirty a knife? It's all sliced for you).

And I don't think there were any ill effects.

Except that it took me two weeks to think of my next drawing post (and it's about grilled cheese).

Changing the Filter

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 21:48:00 +0000

When I walked to the park the other day, here's what caught my attention in this scene, in order of appearance:

After sitting there for awhile, it occurred to me that I didn't even look at or acknowledge her baby.

Without thinking, I applied filters to the scene, like this:

* * *

I love family, I love the idea of marriage and children.

I'm single, in my 40s and I don't have children.

Not having those in my life, I can see now that I've learned to apply filters. Too painful otherwise.

These filters are like lenses.

I think back 10 years ago, when I was more interested in detachment and self-protection.

One thing I love about getting older is caring less about being cool. But as I consciously become more open and less cool, I notice some losses from trying to be cool. An easy one? When I was younger I wouldn't do the electric slide at weddings -- too lame. Now I'm taking a hip-hop dance class that I adore. But I'm the only one who still doesn't know how to do the cool-down.

It's the electric slide.

* * *

The same day I noticed the baby blocker filters at the park, I made an effort to not avoid baby and family scenes. I watched a dad teasing his baby adoringly. My heart tugged.

But I was okay. Next I waited in line behind a father holding his child, being ever so tender.

While he was sweetly attentive to his baby, I made sure I didn't apply the jaded detached filter of cool. But my eyes watered. When I got to my car, I sat and cried.

But I was still okay.

Even though I felt sad, it was a genuine, direct sadness based on the heart of the matter (possibly still wanting to mother). I was being a better listener to myself.

Saturday Morning in Oakland

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 20 Sep 2010 05:47:00 +0000

Learning again that things aren't always what they seem...

Filling Up

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 30 Aug 2010 00:17:00 +0000

Lately, the old distractions aren't working.
Last week, I tried to watch TV.
But its sedative effects weren't hooking me.

I tucked myself in early.

Out of habit, I connect to the stream of updates - Facebook, NYT, etc.

But the updates leave me empty.

Finger is so used to clicking

What do I do now? Answer: Just lie here, without thinking or entertainment.

Phantom clicking in my finger

After a bit, I sink into it.
Forgot how I love the feeling of 'listening' to breath in my belly.
So comforting. Everything is softer.

It felt like this supersonic power source.

As much as I could breathe in. Like a huge tube into my belly.

Has it always been there and I just click over it?

(Also syndicated on BlogHer)

Why I'm Not a Farmer's Market Person

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Tue, 17 Aug 2010 02:43:00 +0000

I went to the farmer's market yesterday. I left stressed and annoyed.
Here's why.

1. Overhyped Coffee

The line for Blue Bottle coffee (they make one cup at a time) was ridiculously long.

I waited for farmer's market coffee once and nearly had a stroke, micromanaging the barista's time with my evil eye, waiting for 2+ minutes for my single cup. AND I couldn't taste a difference.

2. It's really expensive.

I ended up buying potatoes but I was sort of mad at myself. Like I'd become a sellout.

My grocery store has a beautiful selection of locally sourced organic produce. So why was I not shopping there instead?

3. Not designed for shopping.

No baskets, no counter space, no personal space. People were getting slightly aggro at the checkout.

4. Final reason

Sunday morning in Oakland

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Tue, 10 Aug 2010 05:05:00 +0000

While walking my dog I saw a young black guy coming up behind us. Fast. I was about 25% alarmed.

I matched my dog's lollygagging pace, and the guy passed us. Watching his back, I put myself in a sympathetic mode. He kept looking back at us. He seemed anxious. I breathed three breaths for him.

Now about a half block ahead, he turned around.

All of a sudden, he seemed concerned about me. It was like we just built a minute of community.

Just a blister

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 09 Aug 2010 01:05:00 +0000

Auras? you fucking kidding me?

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 26 Jul 2010 03:41:00 +0000

No I'm not. We're going there. Check it.
And click it to make it big.

Yes I was a little disappointed that my signs were car- and traffic-related.

I would have preferred something more ...me.

However, these signs don't ever appear to me. ever.

So, yep I heard something.

I dream

noreply@blogger.com (Eileen) — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 04:01:00 +0000

Last night I dreamt my right eye was irritating me.

No cause for alarm. It happens all the time.

I got a professional opinion...

(choking blood rope from eye to stomach)