i think i'm going crazy. With Shain gone, I was doing Ong King all by myself, most of the time while working. Now, even though she's back, there's so much to do. I'm running around all the time, picking up speakers, writing press releases, trying to hold things together... And trying to pack and move, to do a freelance project, to take care of my health, to at least say hi to people I love... So far I feel like it's being held together, at least a little bit. I took Christmas Day off, and most of the following day, which was really really nice. But now I'm thinking I should've been packing like I'd planned...

Today's blog is brought to you by the letter D, and the word Overwhelmed.

rather than putting on a cd while i clean, i have super talented musicians who want to give me private concerts. Travis Levity (you can't really see him in this video, but it's the best I found as far as sound goes) stopped by the space today, and I'd planned to spend the day cleaning and sorting. I asked if he had any music, meaning a computer or something, but instead he just created music for me. All day. It was lovely.

i am: bone tired, happy, conflicted, and nervous.

Bone tired because I have 4 jobs. And it's Christmas which means shopping in my spare time, and trying to figure out everything that needs to get done before 2009 comes to a close. Currently, there is no down time. My down time is when I have 5 minutes to sit down and either eat, call friends n family, or make business calls. I am burning the candle at 5 ends, and the candle only has 2.

Happy because I love where life is going. I love Sunday Open Stage. Tonight, Shain decorated the place to look Christmas-ey, and we had a potluck. We had a lot of spoken word. And, we had a lot of music, including several impromptu jam sessions that were Incredible. We have amazingly talented artists coming to this space. Tonight we had a woman who got up and did stand up. It was her first time in the space (we had several super talented newbies), she was really funny, and I'd never seen anyone do stand up at Open Stage before. And we were asked to be part of a fringe festival. Excited. Happy. Soul food.

Conflicted because, with all of these changes, I'm not sure who to trust. It seems like everyone's warning me about someone else. I meet new people every day now, and many more people know my name than I can reciprocate. Which makes me feel terrible. But anyways, I'm working with all of these new people, or getting to know old friends on new levels, and I just don't know which people to trust and which ones not to, yet. I'll figure it out over time, and for now I'm just keeping myself on an even keel, but it's a little disconcerting to have so many people tugging me in different directions.

And, in closing, I'm nervous that I will not wake up in 5 hours like I need to. I have 4 alarms set. I am so so so tired, though. Think good waking up thoughts for me.

it's early. Dark-outside-already early. I flipped around in my bed, dreaming of a baby rhinoceros, before I stumbled into the shower. Now, it's an hour before I start work, and I feel pretty awake and ready to go at it. Maybe I'll do this every morning. Up early so I can function the rest of the day.

Let me just tell you, I'm going to be taking comfort in the thought that I can go to bed early tonight.

Wow. I'm laaaaaaammme.

i'm not breaking out per se, but my pores are mad clogged. Stress. Or, living... I've slept without the fan on in my room for the past few nights b/c it's kinda chilly, and when I wake up my eyes hurt and I'm stuffed up and sneeze a lot. Mold and grossness abound in this room. It doesn't help that I've been superbusy and so my clothes, etc are piled everywhere.

I'm ending up doing most of the planning for First Friday. Which is fine because I know most of the people that are performing. It's just making freelancing difficult (nonexistent), and means that I spend a lot of time on the phone or meeting people or writing up stuff. Which is great, and is what managing an art space entails. Just, also means next-to-no sleep. And absolutely no time for me.

The day job is good--it keeps me going all day long. There's barely time to use the lua if I need to, let alone send off a txt to a performer/friend/newspaper (that's right, bitches, we're makin the news!). Lunches are short and filled with hospital food. But somehow when work is over I feel energized most days. It's almost like playing one of those time management games online.

bedtime now.

always good to see carol. Always.

Money makes people ugly sometimes. I love that my parents made sure that I know that it's a means to an end, not an end. Those "If someone offered you a million dollars to..." questions were never, actually, a question. If anyone offered me X amount of dollars to do something, the answer is always No. As long as it's compromising my values. Money is just something we decided was valuable along the way. Those pieces of paper are convenient when you want to buy a car, or pay rent--and don't get me wrong, I appreciate the value of money. It took me years to understand that money isn't something to be shunned. But, in the end, your life is what you make of it. It's the friends, family, the Passion that makes your life. Not the checking account.

I thank God that I have a sense of business. I never took myself as a business woman, but I do have a knack for it. Because what we're going into needs a good business mind, which it didn't have before--as I'm learning. I'm thankful that I've had really excellent teachers along the way. It's funny how life prepares you for life. This art space, as I've heard from multiple people now, needs a good business mind.

On a different note, I had more, but I need to wind down and go to bed. Bed=calling me.

praise God from whom all blessings flow...

including staying home from work, legitimately. The Doctor has the stomach flu today, so I get to stay home. And after the last two days I've had, this is much, much needed. Freelancing and laundry, here I come.

thankfully i work well at mach speed. Because, right now, that's necessary.

Things at the art studio are going well. We really just need a working shower, and then we'll be good to rock. Tonight at open mic we had a lot of new people--which is great. We got a band to open for first Friday for us, and we're going to do the hip hop show later in the month. What I want is for graffiti artists to come in and just take over the walls. Because we need to strip them and sand them and repaint them anyways. So I just want them to tag the whole open space--the stairway, the lanai walls, the backyard walls. That would be Great. Capital G great.

Work is good--thankfully I have a lot of work. But, wow. I have a lot of work.

Sometimes I wonder how energy flows. (Complete change of topic, by the way.) There's this guy that comes by the art space and does a lot of extreme Energy/Buddhist/Neo-type presentations. I try not to get into the religio-philosophic realm with him, for several reasons that I don't feel like listing. But tonight as I was leaving open mic he called me back, and said he was full of energy and wanted to pass it on to me. He put his hands on my shoulders, and after a short while he withdrew them and told me that I was full of love. My heart chakra, he said, was basically overpowering. Thumping. I almost felt like he didn't want to continue touching me because it was overpowering. He never said that, though.

But he did say something about me being fierce. I told him that, in everything I choose to do, I'm always fierce. I love fiercely, I'm fiercely loyal... He said that he could tell, that I'm like a tiger. And I realized that he's the first person to use that word for me other than myself. That he felt that the seat of my soul is in my heart. That even though everyone calls me peaceful, there's fire in my veins. And he saw it.

I guess I just wonder how all of these human souls are connected. Why I feel my "radar" go off when far-away friends are in tough spots, why my mom and I call each other at the exact same moment, why people are drawn to each other... Just the general turning of the world, all the things we can't explain. That's what I'm thinking about tonight.

beautiful beautiful beautiful day.

After work (where Dr. gave my eyes a clean bill of health), I rushed home, changed clothes, and rushed down the hill to pick up my friend B. For those of you who haven't heard, the waves yesterday were over 40 ft. Something I had to see, even if it was at night. B and I drove to the North Shore as it got dark. She'd brought a pizza and a bottle of wine and we drove in my new car with the sunroof open. We talked about life and God and humanity and family and we laughed. A lot. We got to the beach and sat and ate and drank.

The waves were so big, the spray was thick and at least 4-5 ft high. It looked like the water was reaching claw after claw into the beach, raking away the sand, trying to get at something. Or someone. So much force behind each wave, and each receding wave either clashed against or was enveloped by the next. And the sound! Oh, the sound. It was low and rumbling like thunder. You could even feel it in your stomach sometimes as the waves fought with each other. All this arcing, roiling madness was taking place under the clearest sky I've seen in ages. Not a single cloud for a good 3 hours. The stars were ridiculous. The ocean was ridiculous. The air was cold. And B and I just camped out on the sand for a while, soaking in the salt air.

We've both suffered recent losses, hers more recent than mine. Last week, she lost a baby she'd been carrying for nearly 2 months. I know the cavernous ache that losing Grandpa created inside of me--I can only imagine how it feels to lose something that was, actually, inside of you. She is strong in a way that recognizes how she feels. I admire that she's not really OK. Because, honestly, sometimes in life you're just not okay. I admire her for many reasons. This is just the one I saw today.

Video of Lindsey Button (from undergrad), for those of you who know her.

http://newvalleychurch.org/media/video.html

this whole thing is exciting and scary and frustrating. I mean, I like it. I like it better when See (the original owner/creator/everything of Ong King) is there to do the mic. Because he's super great in front of a crowd. Me? Not so much.

Tonight was fun, and before the open mic we had a meeting. And every time we have a meeting I get a little nervous and a little scared. Which is good, I guess. We have people that are really excited about what we're doing. And people who still don't know. And all things in between. And I start work again tomorrow... and I'm tired... and I just want to be living in Ong King already and doing the artist stuff and walking to my day job and not having to deal with other people's control issues. Especially when they want to control my life.

Sigh.

home.

It's great to be back on island, even though I miss my family terribly. Already. Such is life, I guess. I came home to masses of things to do. And, to sneezing. I need to get out of this house--as great as Uncle is, I just can't stop sneezing in this place. Too much mold and dust.

The visit was wonderful. Banana Schpeel was great, great great. The Palmer Hotel is incredibly beautiful. The city had the same energy and feel that I love in the holidays. My parents were good company, as always. It was good. Good times.

Now, over the next three days, I have two good friends that are leaving the island on Friday, so I need to see them; I have a stupid amount of phone calls to make; and Friday is First Friday so I have to host the event at the art space. Wish me luck!

i'm feeling out of place. Pretty much everywhere.

What I really want to do, honestly, is get a nice studio apartment and settle down into work+life. I think I have the ability to cocoon myself, somewhat. Except that wouldn't be fulfilling and for some odd reason the whole concept of living a Comfortable life scares the crap out of me. I think I just don't want to live a life of quiet desperation. Or simply live passively. I want to keep myself moving and growing and changing so that I'm actually living.

So, I'm going into this art community thing. Where every Sunday we open up the floor so that anyone can express themselves in whatever way they feel. But I haven't been around a lot so, apparently, my nickname is "The Elusive One." And, I've always been a watcher at first--I absorb and am quiet in new situations around new people, which isn't necessarily conducive to what's going on here. Oh well, I am who I am just as much as these performers are who they are. I am okay with feeling out of place, just not greatly comfortable with all of the jostling I'm receiving.

Tired. Must wake up at 6. Blech.

in the new:

1) i'm going to try, with another woman, to take over an art space out here. We want to make it more of a community center, create a 501(c)(3), and teach kids how to do art and introduce special needs into the mix. And do something with the older generation, too. And maybe the homeless. And sustainability. We got high hopes.

2) I have a full time job (HOORAY!!!) that I think I'll like. If nothing else, I like the people I work with, and I'm FINALLY getting paid!!!

3) I'm experiencing that, as people get older, they just get married for the sake of not being alone and thinking they can't do any better. Please don't ever let that be the reason I join myself to another human being.

4) I miss my grandpa every day.

5) There are some positive things that came out of his passing (though I'd rather have him here). Among which: I feel like myself again. After a few years of feeling like a stranger in my own skin, the real me has risen to the surface. I have my voice back. I know what I want, where I'm going. Thanks, Grandpa, for that final gift.

6) The next post will not start nearly every sentence with the word "I".

7) Everyone should read Extremely Close and Incredibly Loud. Now. So we can talk about it.

currently watching: it's the great pumpkin, charlie brown.
previously watched: the waves at cockroach cove sweep the sand from the beach

which is why my hair is wet, at 7 pm, as I sit and do some freelancing work from bed. Before the ocean, I was catching my breath while hiking Mariner's Ridge and watching the wind sweep the hills of Hawai'i Kai. God's breath was moving with ease; my own was not. Someone is out of shape, and it's me.

this morning i was groggy and unused to waking up at 6. After falling in and out of sleep for an hour I pulled myself out of bed and put on my lucky dress and drove to the doctor's. Not for treatment, but for an interview. At a job I really, really want. It seemed to go swimmingly.

Which is why today was beautiful.

for real i don't know if i've ever been this sick in my life. On the mend, though. But, yeah, sick also equals emotional. I just cry over the smallest things lately--I'm watching Discovery about little Hayley with progeria and I've cried 4 times in the last half hour. Sigh. Mess.

a couple things.

I've been having unnerving dreams since I flew back in to Hon--the sort of dreams where you feel like a stranger who knows all about you is in your room while you're sleeping. So I blessed my room, and rearranged a little, and now there are creepy noises. I may sleep with my rusty machete next to me tonight.

I'm thinking, since I tend to search for "something beautiful" but not find it, of starting up a blog called the Daily Dose of Beauty. And just post pictures or drawings or poems or quotes that I find beautiful. What do you think?

great love

i've been thinking a good deal about love lately. As in, the romantic kind. And I realized that I've been surrounded by great love. Maybe I just didn't recognize it because it didn't look how I thought it should.

My grandpa loved my grandma for 70 years. That's nearly a whole lifetime. Even after she passed, every day was spent looking at her picture, talking about her, missing her. When she was alive, he would've done anything for her. All of his stories were about her, even the ones where she wasn't mentioned.

My mother and father celebrated their 40th anniversary this year. Forty years of choosing to love the same person, when it's easy and when it's hard. I think that your parents' relationship is always an enigma--though you're around them for a significant portion of your life, so much of how parents relate is private. Which, I guess, goes for most relationships. Either way, however their public and private relationship plays out, I think that 40 years together counts as great love.

Love is a strange mix of instinct and choice. The television recently told me that "the heart goes where it wants," which echoes Woody Allen's "The heart wants what it wants. There's no logic to these things." Except, since it's from Ghost Whisperer and not a man who married his adopted daughter, it's significantly less creepy. But I digress. It's the heart that draws us to a certain person, but it's our will that makes us stay. Love isn't just butterflies and knee-weakening eye contact. After your heart has hitched your star to someone's wagon (or vice versa), you have to actively choose to stay hitched.

Sometimes leaving a relationship is the wisest choice, of course. And those are the decisions people need to make for themselves. I'm just proud right now to have two living (even if they're not all breathing...) examples of great love in my life, spanning at least two generations. I'm hoping someday to add my name to that list, too.

i had my first dream about grandpa last night. Well, the first since he passed. It wasn't profound, but it was lovely to just have him next to me. He told me that a belt looked good on me, and then had me wear Grandma's wedding dress--a beautiful, champagne/gold colored lacy tight number. He told me to keep it for my upcoming wedding. Um, don't even have any suitors, so don't worry.

Come to think of it, though, I don't know what Grandma's wedding dress looks like. I haven't seen any pictures of their wedding day... nothing. I know that they had to marry quick--he was on a break from service in the Navy in WW2--so maybe it was a court house wedding? Dunno.

But yeah, it was good to have him next to me. I didn't want to wake up.

(cough cough)

clean slate

my computer has nothing on it, anymore. I have a new hard drive, and with that comes a clean computer. Now, I get to choose what I put on it: the pictures, the songs, the old journals that I want to be taking up space, rather than just already being there.

I feel like my life is like that, now. After something as big as this, there is no way I will ever be the same person. I know it already. So, computer as metaphor for life: now I get to choose what I want to be taking up space in my days. The people, the places, the job, the physical objects... all of that. I like this idea, and though I've been slowly cleaning house for months now, I've decided to really change. To choose change rather than wait for change.

Now, if only I could get over this stupid head cold and start on life...

From 2007 when I went to take care of him:

once we got him to dialysis and sat him in "his" chair, we realized we'd forgotten his teeth. He has half of them on the top, but the other half is fake and was at home, sitting on his tv tray. Along with his glasses. He still just laughs about it and hits on all the nurses. "Hello, gorgeous!" he says to all of them, regardless. "Here comes trouble!" they say when he comes in. As they hook him up, he tells me a story about 2 Patricias, one in Chicago and one in Brisbane, both of whom wanted to date him, but he was in love with my grandma and turned them down. He started dating my grandma when she was 13 and he was 17. "Good thing she didn't have a father, or else he would've kicked me clear out of there."

At home, during the day, he sits in his chair and looks at pictures of her, just like every other day since she passed. He has these great old photos: 1) Her, white dress, 1950's barrel-curled hair and deep red lipstick standing on a hill. 2) Him, jeans and a jacket over a button-down shirt, popped collar and hair like James Dean, squinting in the sun on the same hill. 3) Them, kissing in that old fashioned way, her body curving into his.

He hates wearing his flannel shirts without an undershirt; it shows the world his chest hair. "Ma loved that hair. Drove her crazy. But she was always telling me to put on a shirt if we were going out."

He's fiercely independent despite his body's failings. But he doesn't mind if I baby him.

Sometimes I think maybe I'm crazy because there's still joy in my bones, despite dire circumstances. But how else do you get through this? And what more is there but joy, quiet but firm, settled underneath the sadness.

around sunset, when frank and i call each other after work, the first questions are always "how was your day?" We take turns, and actually tell each other what happened. I've said for a while that part of my understanding of love is in how you approach each other. Greetings, to me, are important and reveal a lot. I like the way he approaches me. It seems important to him, too.

Other than that, I've had a trip to the big island, a good friend come and visit, and was so exhausted recently that I slept for 17 hours straight. I don't have much to show for all that work, either. I need to get on it... in a more efficient way.

My life is fairly boring recently. Er, not true. Just, my life is too full to blog with regularity? Maybe that's it. Night, all.

i've been compared to a horse twice that i remember. At 14, I was taller and broader than most of my classmates. I could bench 200 pounds, I was on swim team, I ran every morning... and still always always just felt fat, rather than big. I made some flippant comment about my fat to my dad, and he told me that no, I wasn't fat, I was strong. Built like a horse. Although I knew at the time that this was a compliment, it didn't do much to boost my teenage self-esteem.

The other day I showed up at Frank's place straight after work, slacks and all. Guess the pants fit me well because the Guy kept commenting on my legs. "You walked up here like a Shetland Pony," he said. I guess it's a compliment I have to get used to.

i started with so many thoughts, and they all dissipated.

I don't really know what to do with my life, anymore. I've always known until the last couple of years, and it leaves me somewhat on edge. I feel like I'm regressing when I should be moving forward. I guess everyone goes through the "what should i be when i grow up" stage at some point, I'm just going through mine late in life. Hawai'i is the only Home I've ever known. But--

On a different note, one of the dogs got sick today and we had to take her to the emergency vet. Rather than cleaning/organizing/washing dogs/taking my compy to the Apple store/etc/etc, I sat in bed with a slightly smelly dog on my lap. Her tiny, skinny body awkwardly positioned--the only way she would have it--and her constant panting interrupted my movie. But when I put her to bed she seemed nearly normal again. Love heals.

I've also decided that I need to get a job. A real one. One that pays me a livable wage.

Last night, I dreamt about a tiny lil kitten that could fit in my pocket, named Nomi, which means beautiful in Hebrew.

drinking beck's makes me feel like i'm in ewa again. Things seem much less desperate now. Life is a little more settled and worth living.

The boyfriend and I had our first argument today, if you can call it that. And not that I break things off at the first sign of trouble, but I wonder how much of him is for me. If we'd just be better off hanging out. Though, his cousin's daughter ran into his room yesterday and called him "Auntie Dana's man!" and ran out giggling. He's a part of my family--my hanai family--and I don't know where to go, if we should call it quits before it'd be painful to see each other down the line, or if we should stick it out to see if it'd go somewhere real. I'm too tired to think about it tonight.

I worked the Ziggy Marley concert. It was fun, though it felt like he was in a routine--the songs just didn't have much heart behind them. Afterwards (which, he didn't even do ONE hana hou, btw) I went into the back to clean, and there he was, five feet in front of me. He looked at me and smiled. Again, being the non-star-struck person I am, I just smiled, picked up the recycling and left the room. Wanted to be done. It was a looooong day.

I'm enjoying where things are. Now I just need to get paid.

Oh, and, I'm still longing for that bath. Just an hour undisturbed. Sounds like heaven to me.

today,
i miss my family.
and i want nearly nothing more than
a bath.

when i have my own home, i will plant a garden. And in that garden will be cactus. On that cactus, will be the night blooming cereus. And I will have a party the night that it blooms, so everyone can see the wonderful strange loveliness of such a flower.

well i think i'm over my cold. Still have a cough, need to be aware and take vitamins and stuff--but taking care of myself for 3 days and the flu is pretty much gone!! Great how that works.

I've been having crazy, vivid dreams lately, though. They bleed into my life somewhat, and it's hard to separate the two. The Ex's song for me was Like Red on a Rose (he WAS a cowboy...) and I woke up singing it a few days ago. So, I removed it from my bookmarks and said goodbye to the song. Days later, I dreamt of him telling me not to forget Red on a Rose. Um, now that's it written out it's self explanatory. Guess letting go is a long process.

I also dreamt that the Sailor was on Maury Povich with his ex wife, Maria, crying about how he could never love again. I found out from my current roomie (Theo) who was surprised by his mom with a new father...

Anyways. The Terrible People have moved. The last one moves tomorrow. They're gone... I don't know how that makes me feel. Relieved, kind of. And now there's this new group I'm merging into--intelligent, driven, entrepreneurial, articulate, and still FUN, passionate--I like this. It feels like I'm, growing up? Maybe?

nyquil

i dreamt i had swine flu, but even though they'd diagnose it for free, they wouldn't treat me until july 1 when i have medical insurance.

I also dreamt that I was suffocating. Over and over. Everything operated as normal, I just had to remind myself to open my mouth and put my head back. Everything will be ok.

the type of man uncle is

today i left work early because i was sick. Got home, and uncle needed some help. Went with him to move some couches from apartment to apartment. Not excited. Tired. So he let me do lil things (like cushions). We showed an apartment. Feeling tired and sick, I laid down on the couch after the clients left.

"Want some malasadas as a treat?"

Yummy, doughy, sugar-n-haupia hot goodness. Limit: 1

He's supposed to go to dinner with his cousin. Instead, he pulls out our nearly-fully-eaten chicken, boils some potatoes, and spends nearly an hour making me yummy, yummy, yummy chicken soup. Moved his dinner back. So sweet.

---------
Oh, and? This morning he packed my lunch and helped make my breakfast. I love him.

day was:
wake with stuffed, throbbing head.
go to dog show... interesting to say the least
show an AMAZING 2-bdrm penthouse in Waikiki... if only...
go to 9-course family dinner with uncle
bed by 9:30

Where I am

at uncle's house the air smells green and damp, and the clouds roll in off the mountains and blanket the sky, soft and gray, before breaking apart above the valley. The lizards here somehow sing and chirp, like little hidden cricket-birds. The archways are tall and grand, the floors tiled and worn, the paint hangs in strips from the ceiling. Sometimes, you'll even find it in your food. Beautiful old antique vases and clocks, along with knockoffs, along with empty boxes and papers and containers and stacks of newspapers and old VHSs fill the rooms in piles on top of piles on top of piles. Uncle knows where everything is. Our washing machine starts (or stops) when you push the big, back lit, blue"Play/Pause" button. My clothes, for the first time in years, actually come out clean.

Every morning, I'm greeted by 17 excited little furry faces that just want love. And food. A Pomeranian's bark is soft, as if they all yelled too much last night and are hoarse today. When all 17 are barking it almost sounds like running water. They're small enough to pick up by the scruff, and when you do their legs go stick-straight, tails wagging, eyes half-closed, a look of bliss and contentment on their face. They love to be held, and immediately go limp in your arms. Or, they nuzzle in to your neck, or under your chin, as if they want to hide in you. They're lovely.

I wake up early, which is surprisingly easy for me lately. Without my alarm, I've been up by 6:50 most days. I stumble out to the lanai and feed the dogs and get love, and then make coffee. I'm actually eating breakfast, nowadays. By 8 the cool morning damp has evaporated, and that's when I'm thankful for Uncle's dark, cavernous house.

I don't have internet as much, but I do have a t.v., and I sit and crochet and watch Golden Girls and feel like I'm about 85 years old. I'm considering reading before bed again--I used to love that. I've lost that frantic feeling I've had for years now, and finally feel my days unfolding with me again. If that makes sense.

And, for as up in the air as I am, this is where I'm supposed to be. And I'm going to love it while I have it.

moved in. Uncle is one of the sweetest, most generous people I know. Today, I asked to borrow the car to go shopping and he said we should go together and he bought everything. His house is open to everyone, his fridge is open to everyone, if he knows you like something he'll make sure to get it for you... he's just lovely. He cares about people, and honestly wants you to do well and succeed and be taken care of. I feel like I'm in A Home. This is good for me.

Moving was an exhausting pain in the @ss. My foot hurt so bad by the end that I thought I was going to throw up. House full of crap that people have left there over the last 10 years, all had to be boxed up and taken to the garage. Had to clean after roommate threw an eviction party--which was fun, but a little too much for my taste. Fun, though. So, yeah, possibly the worst moving experience ever. No one wanted to help or work. Three of us ended up doing nearly everything--and one of them didn't even live in the house.

The dogs! Oh, the dogs. They are the sweetest 7 pounds of fur you will ever lay eyes on. They're bushy and wiggly and loving and their barks sounds like they've perpetually lost their voices. Muted little puppy yipping. They love being held. They'll be all excited and twirling around, and the minute you pick them up they just go limp in your arms, so happy. Or, they try to climb up to your neck to nuzzle. I'm in love.

lately

these are the things that have happened:

I'm moving in with Uncle. 18 little dogs to take care of every day--sweet lil 7 pounds of Pomeranian fluff. So, living is taken care of through August. Which is the 3 months I decided to give Hawai'i to see if I can make it here.

I have a prospective job with a sustainability nonprofit. I can make it into whatever I want, it seems. They're looking for me to be a consultant in 3 months. If I can get grants and build it up, I should be able to make this into a full time job, doing what I love. Fingers crossed, everyone!!

Thursday, a week from today, I move out of the house. Bittersweet, for sure. But I trust that things work out (which is, sometimes, a delicate place to live.) and it seems that things are working out.

Praise abounds. Even if I don't end up where I envision.

meet with uncle again tomorrow, see the house. Keep your fingers crossed for me!

ladies and gentlemen

we have a winner. Well, at least, we have one heck of a good guy. Great date. I'm a fan. :)

The poetry for tonight.

Grace Cavalieri

WHY THEY STAYED TOGETHER

Take Snow In My Arms
--H.D.

First there was the
Powdered sugar
Covering all thoughts
Like a winter storm in the ghetto,

Then--the weight of the trees
Around the house,
Roots entangling
Growing through the chairs,
Wood conspiring to connect
To keep them there,

Finally it was the crooked
Hands that matched just right
The loose door knob and twisted key
Inside the burnished lock within the frame,

At last, it was their sleep intertwined
As if were planned that way
As if it had somewhere to go.

catching up

i have a few choices of places to live:
1) with uncle, where I take care of his dogs (he breeds Pomeranians) for about 2 hrs/day to cover rent.
2) in a 3-bdrm house with current roomie and crazy talented poet woman.
3) in this studio that I LOVE, but it's a little expensive. But nice.
4) in a 2-bdrm with a girl I don't know.

Dunno. Pluses and minuses to each of them.

I have one job that's probably in the bag, part-time working with a sustainability organization. And I've found a few promising positions that I just need to hear back from.

I have a pseudo-date tomorrow with a sweet, sweet, handsome man. Will see how that goes.

My room is embarrassingly messy.

I have not been the most social person lately.

BUT I did have a superfantastic weekend--painted/read in the park, sunset at the beach, day at the beach playing Kubb (ridiculous amounts of fun), had great BBQ where I got to dress like a gypsy, good friend's b-day party, really great concert... actually, had a lot of things go on this weekend. Yay!

What should I wear to the pseudo date???

oh my gosh i need a job. I just made a mangatar of myself, and I TOTALLY made myself a professional. Instead of something awesome like an elf. I'm even wearing a jacket and glasses.

Please, someone, hire me! I want to work!!!

i've been considering moving for the last two days. The short of it is, I'm tired. But no place has ever felt like home like Hawai'i feels like home. Still, we'll see.

I wonder about love. There's someone that I've been wrapped around for months, with (what I perceive as) no real reciprocation. And so, now that's pau. Ish. Because you can remove your heart to a certain extent, but it's still going to do what it wants to in other respects. Tonight I talked to a man who is incredibly in love, and it made me happy. Just to know that, somewhere out there, there are people that find each other, that make it work, that want nothing more than to be with each other.... That gives me hope.

And, in the end, I love the life that I've been given...

my birthday was perfect. God's present? A lightning storm.

first: my foot hurts.

Second: Church is online today, and I love Tony Campolo and looked him up and Holy Crap The First Sermon On This Page Is Wonderful. Praise God for honest Christians.

poem my first boyfriend read to me.

Your Catfish Friend
by Richard Brautigan
If I were to live my life in catfish forms in scaffolds of skin and whiskers at the bottom of a pond and you were to come by one evening when the moon was shining down into my dark home and stand there at the edge of my affection and think, "It's beautiful here by this pond. I wish somebody loved me," I'd love you and be your catfish friend and drive such lonely thoughts from your mind and suddenly you would be at peace, and ask yourself, "I wonder if there are any catfish in this pond? It seems like a perfect place for them."

i have not been doing the things that make me happy.

In Portland, I would drive an hour just to look at the ocean for a few minutes. Now, I live so close and I only really see it from my lanai. Writing has always been like breathing, and I can feel how stifled my soul is lately. Small, OCD-Dana things have fallen by the wayside, too.

I know why, in some senses. And I know that I need to remember how to sing to my soul again.

new employer=hack.

now to find another job!

p.s. i love the little surprises life throws your way, if you're paying attention.

the greek place down the street might be my favorite place right now. Tonight, got called in as they were closing. They fed me some of their wonderful food, one of the men bought 2 6-packs just because I said I'd like a beer, and I spent over 2 hours with Francois, just talking about life. I think that place was put there by heaven, just for me.

easter

got off to a shaky start. But, had delicious dinner at a friend's apartment with other friends, watched HBO special on slam poetry, and day ended wonderful. Brought new friend along. He's sweet. It's nice to meet good men.

it smells like rain and tea tree. Like Australia.

I miss travel.

Dear Lord

it has been far too long since i've taken time to sit with you. Maybe you have an opinion on all this.

what's with all the crazy killings lately??

The NY deal, the Pittsburgh deal, the crazy dad deal... and then a shooting and a stabbing in Honolulu last week. All that in one week. Not to mention all the reports I'm hearing lately of people being stabbed and killed out here... normally it's pretty safe. It was rated the safest big city in the US this year.

But, everyone's going to crazy in a hand basket, so I guess it's all to be expected...


In a completely unrelated note, a power cord outside my window caught fire on Saturday. I got to call the fire department and everything. Don't worry, no one was hurt.

(btw: photo by my favorite photographer: arno rafael minkkinen. Amazing. Check him out.)

first: i'm going to be an aunt! Garrett and Cami are getting their baby from Ethiopia, little Fikadu. They think he was born on March 13th, and he was abandoned on the street, but he's so big (over 8 lbs) and perfect.

second: we just went to the humane society and I am IN LOVE with the puppies. Especially the big beautiful husky/malimute who wouldn't stop howling, and the little tiny rotweiler puppy who wouldn't stop licking my hand.

third: i went to a poetry slam last night and it was wonderful.

fourth: i need to find a place to live. again.

watched buena vista social club last night, and it was lovely. Today, I am stressed and overwhelmed. That is all.

not knowing who i was made for an odd, misplaced day yesterday. Until Tamika, Char, Theo, and Travis all met up at 39 Hotel, and we just talked and laughed all night. I ran into my friend the Captain. It is always good to see him. I have more fun with him than... maybe than anyone else. We click. He's moving in with his girlfriend and a few other people, and seemed happy about it. He texted me as he was leaving, and later in the evening, saying it was great to see me and asking: "boyfriend?" I didn't respond.

I've decided to date again, after taking a break. I think I'm going to dinner with a friend/guy tomorrow, and then next weekend I have plans to meet up with a sweet, pierced, rocker guy that I haven't seen in ages. I love dates. Should be fun.

I'm at CoffeeTalk. The people in the room I'm in are speaking Hawaiian. I want to stay just to be surrounded by the language. It's beautiful.

i dreamt that carol didn't know where she was. She woke up and was lost, and I could hear her wondering out loud where she was from my room. Then I woke up. For a good amount of time, I had no idea who I was. I didn't know where I was, what day it was, what I had to do... the only thing I knew was that the room I was in was mine. Everything else? No clue. I almost walked outside to ask my roommates. Eventually, though, I remembered. Never happened to me before.

complaining

most of you can skip this bitch-fest.

I am a patient woman. Of all things that I'm bad at, patience isn't one of them. That said, I'm beginning to lose that. Being without electricity is a surprising hindrance. One that I thought wouldn't be a bad deal, but now it's been 9 days and it's a pain. I'm tired of hauling the extension cord in and out, of not being able to close my door most of the time, of not being able to run multiple things at once.

The bathroom has always been gross--mold on the ceiling and spiders in the shower--but it was doable before. In and out. But now it won't drain and cloudy water fills up beyond our ankles and sits there for hours on end. Snaking, bleach, plunging... nothing makes it better anymore.

We can't tell how hot the oven is, only 2 burners work on the stove, and ants thread their way through all parts of the house--up the bathroom walls, across counter tops, along my floor--without a necessary food source in sight.

We received a 45-day notice that we have to move out. All these things considered, odds are they've realized the house is illegal and need to make renovations sans occupants. The letter gave no explanation, legally they didn't have to. But I don't want to live here for 2 months with a backed up drain and outlets that spark, when they work at all. I love living here, honestly, despite the fact that the floors only stay clean for a day after you hands-and-knees scrub them and that someone put up cardboard to cover the termite-eaten walls. I love the view, the lanai, and that the wind is sweet. Mostly, I love the people. I don't want to move, even though I'm oddly excited about it. I'm just frustrated with the current conditions.

In the next 45 days I have to finish my thesis, get a job, and find a place to live. Completely doable. Someone needed to light a fire under my ass--a job I used to do myself, but haven't done lately.

I've been using the word "frustrated" a lot recently. But now, I'm not as much frustrated as I am pissed-and-therefore-taking-care-of-shit. Maybe slightly less patient because I don't have a lot of time for bullshit. Don't have time to spend wasting. Feels good.

End of complaining. We now return to your scheduled Daily Life.

jesus could, really, be considered The Undead, couldn't he?? :) Zombie extraordinaire.

just remembering

one of my favorite things about my friend the sailor was how he listened. There was almost always a point in the conversation when I would say "Hey, you still there?" and he would respond "Yeah, I just like listening to you talk."

and

i've been having personal space issues lately. Just feeling encroached upon in different ways--probably mainly because I can't close my door or keep my food in my own fridge.

Anyway, I woke up this morning and looked out the window near my bed, and someone was on the lanai across from my window, watching me. REALLY?!? You're gonna watch someone sleep??? Maybe he was doing something else, but when I woke up and looked over he was definitely facing my window. When he saw me looking, he walked hurriedly across the lanai to his door... but... really?

i still don't have electricity. They're working on the power downstairs, and after they shut all the power off on Wednesday, the electric in my room wasn't restored. Neither was the electricity to the stove. Which sucked. Thursday, stove was working, home was not. Friday, when I got home and electrician was here, I told him I didn't have electricity. He threw an extension cord at me, told me he'd wasted half a day on figuring this out already, and left. For the weekend. Today, he hasn't shown up.

My fridge stinks (even though I removed most stuff), I have to leave my door open when I work to get power to my computer, and I only have my ceiling light for light. It's been 5 days. I'm pissed.

nearly done

with my freelancing. I do need to find a new job. For as much as I'm thankful for this one--it's seen me through 3 years--I can tell it's time to move on...

this too shall pass

it's times like these that i'm thankful life isn't stagnant. Even though we can't predict where life is going, at least things are always changing.

time

time is such a strange thing.

I miss my tutu.

caring about things=exhausting.

and i know, really, it's not him i'm missing.

the big, bad ex is on my mind for some weird reason. I've actually been missing the jerkface. The world-wrecking, GPA-ruining, insane-making jerkface. I know I miss the idea of him, not the man himself. Cognitively, at least. But, just a little, I give in to the feeling.

The logical side of me says: Of course there are songs that remind me of us. The question is, why am I listening to them on repeat?

i could go to bed right now. I guess it is nearly 11. But for a woman used to staying up till 4 a.m., this is early. And I have part of a work project due in the morning.

Church on the beach this morning was incredible. The pastor is Hawaiian and uses Hawaiian words and talks about sovereignty. Then Laura and I went to the beach and laid for a bit to take in the pretty.

things were so beautiful i almost couldn't open myself up to it.

But, there was no sunscreen involved. And I am SuperBrightRed. And maybe a lil lightheaded.

clean room=feel better.
listening to poetry while cleaning=thinking in poetry=happy.
wet bed=?????

Came back from cleaning downstairs lanai to find a weird wet spot on the bottom of my bed, puddle of water on the floor. And no, I didn't pee pee on the bed. But my blankets are wet in weird weird patterns...like, even though the top blanket was wet, the two beneath it weren't, but the sheets are...

Magic bed wets itself??

i think it'll always be like this, to some extent.

ani and i had a conversation about loneliness and aloneness—both saying the same thing. In life, you will always be a little lonely (or alone, depending on the word you prefer). No one can ever get inside your head and see the world you do. Hear your thoughts. No one can, in a sense, really know you. And, even surrounded by people, everyone is, in a sense, alone.

I've always gone through stages of removal. Hibernation. Contracted cases of the People Pox. Maybe it helps to sit with loneliness for me. Maybe it's just that I get so wrapped up in my head that I can't begin to communicate in a normal way.

I once wrote "I climb into the cracks on the page to hide." Nowadays, I climb into my computer, into video, into mindless sitcoms I don't even like or blogs of people I don't know. Seeking substance. Seeking beauty. I can't tell you the number of times I've typed "something beautiful" into Google, hoping to pull up art that would resonate with me. I'm so hungry for that feeling. The weirdly fulfilling ache that comes with encountering beauty. It's only because I'm not seeking it in my daily life.

School has sucked the life out of me. Ugh.

you know those days where you show up just in time to miss the bus, and trip over the sidewalk every time you cross the street?

I'm on my third day in a row of that.

i need to find something that calms me before i go to sleep. news, reading, movies, tv... none of it really works. hmm...

just plain out of sorts today.

and, i wanna cuddle.

i just wrote a whole post about relationships that i can't post because i'm not following it. Sigh.

The gist? My feelings are mine, and while they're inspired by the other person, they don't depend on them. I try, and mostly succeed, at not being embarrassed by how I feel about others. Because, again, my feelings are just that: mine.

But still, I've realized that I'm not as forthcoming as I thought I was, depending on the situation. Not that I'm embarrassed--it's just that... sometimes where you're at is so nice, you don't want to rock the boat. Yet.

reminder

there is this poem, by randall jarrell, that compares death to a doctor's waiting room. One of my favorites. Can't find online--remind me to search for it when there's time...

when i have money, i am going to buy stacks and stacks and stacks
of poetry.

i remember when poetry was breath and blood pumping through my veins. Donne, Plath, cummings, Hughes, Elliot, Williams... all my counterparts in speech and thought. That is how it is, I suppose, when you love something. Loves change, too.

This love hasn't subsided, it still fills me when I spend time with it. Just, for a time, has been rationed.

lil reminders

i was on my way to buy meat. That's all I wanted for dinner, for some reason. But the Greek restaurant down the street had their lights on (at 11:30 pm) and so I walked in and asked them if they were open. There were about 5 men hanging out in the kitchen, and No, they were closed, but did I want a sandwich? Francois, the man I was talking to, ordered the hairdresser (Salvo) behind the counter to make me a tuna sandwich, on the house (one word for the sandwich: amazing.). We talked and laughed and they got me a beer, said they were having a private party but it was kind of awkward because the party wasn't being friendly.

When my food came, every one moved to the table so I could sit and eat and not be alone. George, the mainlander that everyone obviously respected, cleared my plate and got me cheesecake. When I was finished with my dessert and my beer, he told Salvo to get me wine. Francois introduced me to everyone, and at one point when talking about life he pointed to me. This woman, he said, will be successful in whatever she chooses to do. I can't describe how much I needed someone to have faith in me today. And it was the random owner of the restaurant down the street; which made it that much better.

After a while it seemed that everyone moved inside and sat with us at one point or another. They were great, fun, gregarious guys who, other than occasionally hitting on me, treated me like one of the guys. They were from around the world, and some still had really thick accents, so I think I missed a lot. But what I caught was priceless.

Francois told a story of a man who was working on his house who wouldn't stop complaining about everything, but especially his wife's cooking. The man, apparently, had eaten nothing but bread for 20 years while living in a small village in Italy and was the skinniest, most bug-eyed man you'd ever seen, but was constantly unsatisfied with what they fed him once he moved to the US. Francois' wife cooked pasta for him every day but he always complained. So, Francois took over. He made penne with onions and basil and tomato sauce, and took a can of cat food from the kitchen and mixed it in (he cut the taste with lemon, in case you're considering trying this). He put Parmesan and fresh basil on top and served the Inherently Unsatisfied guy--and the guy ate so fast he didn't stop to catch his breath. Now THIS is pasta! the man proclaimed when he was done. Francois laughed and laughed and told the guy what he did. After that, the guy stopped complaining so much.

But, his restaurant is great and he'd never do that to a customer.

All of them wanted me to date Salvo, that was apparent. He was cute, but I'm over the whole idea of meeting someone and dating them right away. I want to know them first, make sure we fit at least a little bit. Salvo pulled me aside at one point and asked if I was okay, if I was having a good time. I told him that I was having a great time. I loved the company. They're great, he agreed. Very friendly. But you have no idea who you're sitting with, do you? Nope, all I know is that they're fun. These men, he said in his thick Greek accent, are the center of Honolulu business. Each of them is a multi-millionaire. When they talk about spending $2,000/night or leaving $18,000 for play money--they're not exaggerating. But, they will do anything for you. Place to live, job, money... they'll do anything.

Apparently, I was with some high rollers. But they seemed like the sort of men I'd like to hang out with on a regular basis. They're fun and intelligent and down to earth. With a crass sense of humor, which always gets me. I liked them a lot.

It was food for my soul. I miss those random encounters so much. I think I haven't been listening as much to what God is saying about daily life, and that's why I've been missing moments like this--whereas I used to have them all of the time.

This morning, I tried to force myself to do what I thought I should do, even though I really really really really didn't want to. And it all went wrong. The second half of the day was much better. My roomie helped a lot, too. Thanks Roomie. Sometimes I'm surprised how well you know me. I think being with you helped changed my attitude around enough that I'd be receptive to tonight's random encounter.

Life brings good things when you pay attention.

Sleepy. bed.

slippahs and jeans were bad choices on a rainy day. I walked nearly a mile, carrying my laptop and too many books, slipping out of my shoes. The coffee shop was full, so I got coffee and walked nearly a mile home, up the hill. Now I'm on the lanai, listening to Wilco, admittedly feeling a little sorry for myself and my sore shoulders. I don't want to think about NAFTA.

I can't wait to be done with school so that learning can be fun again.

life is the most beautiful thing i've ever had the privilege to take part in. :)

Tonight, just when I was beginning to feel out of place and sad, roomies kicked in. I got to speak my piece--which was maybe all I needed, to say out loud what was heavy on my mind--and then we all just got to Be. Together. Later, Makuakane came over with his guitar and played for us and sang and it made me realize: Ohana is continuously being brought to us. I wouldn't trade this island, this life, for anything. I love where I am, who I'm with, and what I'm learning. Life is perfect. Not because it is by any standard, but because life is, in all circumstances, perfect.

I think of my tutu often; and tonight, it seemed she was bringing me good things.

The things that occupy my mind (I think too much, I know) pale in comparison to the incredible life I've been given. Even with its faults.

reiterate

i have to say again: Life is good. I know life's path will take me back to a place of sadness or frustration or whatever, but for now... Life is good.

things have been occupying my mind. Like how happy I am, how I feel like my spirit has settled into my body and I am settled into my life. Like how I am healed, my body is operating differently and I am more aware of its processes, its movements. I looked back at an old journal today, and after 3 years I am, now, the woman I wanted to be then. I took an unexpected path to get here.

Today I practiced bowing with my roommate and my whole body was hot and shaking. I don't know why, yet. Something about that connection, or maybe I forgot to breathe.

Sigh. On to work on my paper.

caroline

i found this, and for some reason it creates cavernous spaces inside me.

the song i sing to myself

caroline. She keeps seeping into my thoughts over the last few days.

When I was 18, early in my undergrad career, she was murdered by her mom's boyfriend. He saw her walking from the shower to her room in a towel, made an advance, and when she rejected him he stabbed her 17 times. Beyond the point of killing her.

Two weeks before, she and I had hung out at a party. She wore glittery eyeliner and had Bonne Bell chap stick. There were a few dreads still nestled in her curly hair, and hemp necklaces around her neck. She was the girl I'd always hoped to be friends with, someday. And we spent the night at the party talking, just the two of us, all night long. I grew closer to her. Just like that, a few weeks later, she was gone.

I think about her now and again, as I do with all my loved ones who have passed on. But for some reason, I think about her all the time lately. I spent time when I was younger processing the incredible futility of how she died, and missing a friendship that never quite reached its peak. Lately, I just think about her face. And her hair. And her demeanor--everyone loved her, and rightfully so. I don't know why she's on my mind--maybe all death is, because I'm thinking about a lot of good friends that have passed away. It's the loss, maybe, that's occupying my mind. The spaces they leave behind. Not what's left over, but what's left undone.

it's 9:00. I have no food. I think, for once, I could take a break from avocados. I abused their goodness. Want to walk to the store but it's cold and raining and it's so nice to be in bed, warm under the covers. But... food...

sigh.

for carol

Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don't open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.

Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.

-Rumi

And, for me:

The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell you.

Don't go back to sleep.

You must ask for what you really want.

Don't go back to sleep.

People are going back and forth across the doorsill

where the two worlds touch.

The door is round and open.

Don't go back to sleep.

I would love to kiss you.
The price of kissing is your life.

Now my loving is running toward my life shouting,
What a bargain, let's buy it.

--Rumi

theme song

you know that question: if your life had a theme song, what would it be?

My answer for years has remained the same. And I'm sure I could add more songs, but this is what I strive to embody: As Is by Ani DiFranco.

When I was younger and had life all sorted into black and white, I think I was fairly judgmental. The "bad" stuff in people, I just wouldn't see, or would categorize as not a part of them. Once I grew up a little and realized that humans are a mess of everything--sacred and profane, intelligence and pigheadedness, respect and obliviousness--I had to readjust my view of people. I strive all the time to acknowledge people for who they really are, not just what I want to see in them. And, as long as it wouldn't be toxic for me, to accept them. So, this is why I want this song to be my theme song--not that I embody it fully, but that I'd like to one day be this person.

Because, really, what good is acceptance and love if the person doesn't see you for who you are?

chorus:
and i've got
no illusions about you.
guess what?
i never did.
and when i said
when i said "i'll take it"
i meant,
i meant as is.

my favorite verse:
just give up
and admit you're an asshole.
you would be
in some good company.
and i think you'd find
that your friends would forgive you,
or maybe i
am just speaking for me.

cuz when i look around,
i think this, this is good enough.
and i try to laugh
at whatever life brings.
cuz when i look down
i just miss all the good stuff;
when i look up
i just trip over things.

----------------------------------
side thought: On a question that's supposed to be based solely on yourself (YOUR theme song), I choose one that speaks to how I relate to others. Guess that says a lot about me, too, huh? Have to think on that one.

beautification night last night with roomie=super fun.
And, this morning, I got up early with other roomie and had coffee and grape nuts. Even though I hate it, I like it. I feel more adept for the rest of the day.
I need to finish up Chapter 1 on my thesis... I was feeling super motivated but I'm not really, right now.
Coffee with Ani=super fun, too. I told her stories and she told me that I was really f*cked up for a while. Yup. That's life.

today was beautiful. Unnervingly, divinely beautiful. I woke up wondering where my passion had gone to find, by the end of the day, that direction does not equal passion. My passion is still there--I've always been a woman with fire in her veins--I just don't have an outlet yet.

To the coffee shop encounters, the sunsets at the beach, the unwitting messengers of God--Thank you.

i dove headfirst into the mindless, for a while. I think it was because I couldn't shut my brain off, but celebrity gossip and online tv definitely could. Now, I'm ready for my brain to turn back on.

last night was carnival and i went to the block party downtown for little while. I've gone every year, but this year I really wouldn't have minded not going. It was fun, though, to see everyone painted and dancing like fools.

at 6:15, i was woken up with a txt from an old friend that i haven't heard from in a long time. I figured he'd txted me on accident, but carried on the conversation. After 40 minutes, we both realized that he had, in fact, txted the wrong person. It was still good to hear from him. Too bad I can't go to lunch in Texas today.

I got to thinking about life, got a little depressed, and went back to sleep. Where I dreamt of Capt. Jean-Luke Picard of the star ship Enterprise. And woke up feeling a little better about life.

the more loving one

auden has been running through my mind lately. The poem posted below, to be exact.

I may be terrible for saying this, but I think I disagree with him. I don't think I would rather be the more loving one--at least, not in romance. I say this only because I know me. I know the way I treat people and the lengths I will go to for them. I know how serious commitment is to me, how much I try to see things from other people's perspectives, and that looking out for those I love and taking care of their needs comes naturally for me. And I'm learning that this isn't normally how people treat people. So, I think, in romance I'd rather have him be the more loving one. Because, in addition to overly-loving, I am under-believing when it comes to love. I may believe that you love me, but I'm also waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Although, now that I reread the poem, I have been in that situation before and it SUCKS. I really don't like being confronted with someone who honestly passionately loves you, and you just can't quite get there for them. So, maybe I don't disagree.

Are relationships ever, really, equitable? I thought for a while I was in one that was. He of course made the same self-depreciating comments that all guys make (women, a word of advice that I've learned over the years: if a man warns you, heed the warning.) but I thought we were, in some way, on the same page. We weren't. We were in different books, in different libraries, in different countries on different continents, written in different languages. But, for a time, I thought we were in balance, we'd achieved reciprocity. We were working on autonomy and interdependence, that I knew. But I think I will forever be working on that one--too independent for my own good.

I don't necessarily think it's a judgment call: that equity is "good" but if one person is more enamored over the other it's "bad." I think relationships are a jumble of whatever works for those two people at that time. I'm just curious, is it always a little out of balance? Do two people ever truly love each other, or is there always a more loving one?


The More Loving One

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

-- W. H. Auden

this fish is great. It's got a transparent head.

Research is going okay. Slow but okay. I'm getting excited about the subject, which should help propel me through the next 2 months of intense research and writing.

Job search is going poorly. It's hard not to get disheartened. I think I need to stop by the temp agencies this week, just to at least be out there, working. Once I have some source of income and schedule, things should look up a bit.

opinions

i know none of y'all comment on here, but if you feel so inclined, i'd love opinions.

I'm starting some serious research on my thesis (I know, I know, about time.). I'm looking at books, and there are a lot out there I would love to read that I think would be beneficial for my research.

For the product: I wouldn't have to haul around massive amounts of books. I would keep it, and I'm a big time reader (normally) so I'm sure I'd use it a lot. Though, I do love the feel of a book in my hands. Books are generally about $10, which I could beat with used bookstores, however I'm going to order my research on express delivery so I'll be spending extra money on that.

For research: I guess the "highlight" tool isn't that great, but I'm assuming it has some sort of ctrl+f function that would come in super handy. And, again, not hauling books everywhere I go like normal. And, it reads to you! So when I'm tired of reading or if I want to be doing other stuff, I can just listen to my books--without having to buy the audio version.

For money: I think it's $359. Which is a lot.

HOLY CRAP.
nevermind. I just looked up the books they have on NAFTA, and there are only 15. Five of which are $80 or over--like, up to $140. Crap. And the rest just look sucky. So, question answered. But I'm gonna post this anyway. :)

i don't know if this recent juicing/fasting/cleansing agreed with my body that much. Today I feel exhausted and foggy headed. But, since it'd been three days, today I can eat. Once I get enough energy to leave my room.

I did a liver cleanse two days ago and it was wonderful. It felt like I took a shower on the inside, for the first time. I've felt pretty loopy the past few days, actually. I guess the juicing is doing it to me.

Last night I dreamt of our house, and our roommates, and the yin/yang. Weird weird weird.

today was the liver cleanse. It was much more intense than last time--I think I used half of the recipe on accident last time, though. Afterward, I felt like my insides had taken a shower. And sort of felt euphoric. Now, I'm just sleepy.

i want to write again. Along with all of this cleansing and renewal, I'm regaining my passionate side. Writing has always been like breathing to me, and I haven't been breathing for a good 2 years. My soul can tell.

making space

it's cold, near-breathlessly still, and dark.

I was going to sleep, but I can feel my heart beating in the scar on my left foot and it's keeping me awake.

Life has been good and changing. I'm trying to be conscious of... well, everything. But especially of cleansing. Physically, of course, especially since I want to solidify some changes I believe have taken place. But in other areas. Emotionally, letting go of baggage that I've carried for way too long. Spiritually, turning over the soil for good things to grow again. Spatially, making room around me to prepare for whatever life is bringing me.

Seems I've been cleaning all the time lately. I think this is a part of the reason why. When blessings come, I want clean open space to place them in. Strike that. When blessings come, I want to live them out in clean, open space. Including my soul.

reminded of why i love rumi

These spiritual window-shoppers,
who idly ask, 'How much is that?' Oh, I'm just looking.
They handle a hundred items and put them down,
shadows with no capital.

What is spent is love and two eyes wet with weeping.
But these walk into a shop,
and their whole lives pass suddenly in that moment,
in that shop.

Where did you go? "Nowhere."
What did you have to eat? "Nothing much."

Even if you don't know what you want,
buy something, to be part of the exchanging flow.

Start a huge, foolish project,
like Noah.

It makes absolutely no difference
what people think of you.

-- Rumi, 'We Are Three', Mathnawi VI, 831-845

status

things have been really good lately. After a few not-so-good years, it feels great to be able to say that.

more to come...

today

was a sad/beautiful/intense jumble of a day. i feel like i lived at least 3 days instead of just one. i'm exhausted, but very, very happy.

My new name

to me, names are extremely important. I think they represent more than just a labeling system--in some ways people are the embodiment of their names. Though it is not always true, lots of times names are indicative of personalities. Example: Billys tend to be sweet and insightful; Chrystals and Ambers tend to be crazy; Peters tend to be extremely individualistic; just to name a few.

Basically, I feel that names mean a lot. Maybe it's because I'm so into language, and because I think that words spoken aloud have power, and a name is something you're always hearing, directed at you. To Hawaiians, names were symbolic and treasured as well. When you entered into new phases in your life, sometimes a new name was given.

My hanai Tutu (adoptive grandmother) named me about a year ago. To be named by Kapuna is a great honor to me and my name is something I've treasured. But every time I tried to go by that name I was met with resistance somehow. I think I hadn't grown into it yet. Lately I've been using it more, introducing myself with it, thinking of myself in its terms. So, if you hear me introduce myself differently, don't be taken back. :)

My Hawaiian name: Malie (mah-lee-eh)
meaning: calm, peaceful; strong presence

And, Tutu said, it means I'm stubborn too. How appropriate.

i feel like there is too much to say and too little space to say it in.

i forgot how music is food for my soul. Wonder why I've ignored the new stuff for so long.

I also forgot how lonely it is when I lock myself in my room for a whole day, working. Necessary, but a lil lonely.

i am back in hawai'i. And exhausted. I love it here. The smells, the night air on my skin, the people--this is home for me. I can breathe here.

i should be packing. My clothes are strewn across the floor and I have piles representing what's going and staying. But I'm not putting those piles into the suitcases.

i pitched a documentary idea to Bill Kurtis yesterday morning. It was pretty incredible. We'll see where it goe.

Then I met with my pastor. I love him. He gave me a whole new look at my life, and new energy for returning home.

I'm packing. It sucks.

honolulu is the seventh fittest city in the US.

i have forgotten what to write. Over the last week, I've written in here in my head so many times, I've forgotten what has been said and what has yet to be said. Though, I have a feeling, Everything still needs to be said. It doesn't help that my laptop is in the shop. :(

I am listening to Bailero sung by Frederica Von Stade. It is one of those songs that deserves to be played loudly, but the house is sleeping, so her voice competes with the sound of the computer fan. Still, it is beautiful.

I finally got to see my good friend Ashley, in time to celebrate her birthday. We sat in her apartment and talked over wine and brie. She is another food-for-my-soul friend. With her, just being in proximity is enough; I miss her whenever she's not near. Which is often, since we are separated by 4 time zones.

Mae is another instant-soul-connection friend, even though we barely ever see each other. She is insightful, honest, beautiful, and has an Italian temper. We told each other things that we weren't able to talk about before. Since I only had a short time with both of these amazing women, I decided to move my ticket home back a little.

I drove to Iowa to see my friend Alice (who's pregnant!) and her husband Joel. I listened to audio books while looking at the vast, white plains, and sang "Cecilia" while crossing the Mississippi. They have a great old apartment, with the strangest construction ever (2-foot long hallways with misaligned doors, walls made with old unused gravestones, impossibly tall ceilings)--it's a house only the Midwest could've produced. I loved it. And, I get to be an Auntie!!!! (And yes, that sentence deserves all four of those exclamation points.)

It is cold. Incredibly, nosehair-freezing, hand-numbing, unhappy-making cold. -20 degrees without windchill. This makes me unhappy.

I miss home terribly. Not just because of the cold, but because it is home, and I can feel its absence. I'm itching to get back to my own life, but there are still more food-for-my-soul people to see.

Friday, we're going night tubing! Yay!

watching annie hall. Quietly, because my mom is sleeping.

In a dimly lit coffee shop, a man once told me that I need a love that awes me.

I've just, finally, let go of one that didn't.

queen of quiet

i've always been good at being alone. I'm not a woman who leaves the t.v. on for company. I enjoy it--nights to myself are delicacies like wine and chocolate.

But for the last year, things have changed. The quiet builds inside me. Uncomfortably. I don't like this new avoidance.

i like existing within the space of a movie after it's over. I'm not saying I watch the credits, per se, but I like being present while they're rolling.

the house is quiet enough i can hear my computer processing.

Sometimes all you need is a good friend--no deep conversation, no explanations, just to be with someone.

Thanks Cory. Love you.

good friends

i got to see my fantastic friend Mel yesterday. She's one of those friends that, when we met, we just knew we'd be friends. That immediate, soul-to-soul connection. And our conversations are always like food for my soul.

She said:
"When I think of you in Hawai'i, the main thing I think is: 'Dana doesn't have a place to live.'"

I've had a roof over my head every day, thank God, but I haven't really had a place to live over the last three years.

Thankfully, I do now. And I love it.

I can't wait to get back home.

Sitting with my spirit

i forgot how beautiful the falling snow is in the light from the streetlamps.

i am tired of my own story. I am tired of telling it, over and over again. And so I've stopped, recently. I think I need to hold it for a while, re-absorb it, make it mine again until I can feel its weight.

I need to realize what my story is, now. If I try to place myself in this life, to find myself in this skin, everything turns fuzzy. Things have gone in unexpected directions.

I believe that your life is your choice, even in light of events that may legitimately happen to you. But I've been letting life happen to me--er, choosing to let life happen--and I think I've lost myself in the mix. I am still the same woman, with some new attributes. Good and bad. I just have to remember who that woman is.

i believe i'm going to try practicing mindfulness again.

...and, I've realized how much the midwestern lifestyle simply doesn't suit me. All of the superficial, consumption-focused, lazy-drive-everywhere-park-as-close-as-you-can, think of nothing but yourself, your job, the new purse you want... it's just not for me. It'd be so easy to get consumed with the bubble of a life you can create out here, I can understand how people do, but I prefer where I'm at. Even if it means all ramen all the time, termite-eaten walls, and no new clothes for at least a year at a time. It suits me.

soon to be a week past new years... i should really write about newness and all that stuff i normally think about around this time.

But I'm tired. So, I will just recap a little. Went to Michigan to see my friend Bob and had a GREAT time. Played in snow, saw the upper Michigan pretty and the eerie desertion of downtown Flint. Had lunch with my wonderful old friend Pedro. He's one of the few people in my life that constantly inspire me. He makes me excited about being alive. And now, am at bff's boyfriend's house, freelancing while he plays Call of Duty and she plays with Meeblings. That's right, we're rock stars.