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May 2014



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May. 16th, 2014


(no subject)

Change in plans

Friday night. Had planned on going to Burning Man social, meet one of the artist get-togethers and cancelled to myself as I parked my car at home. It was going to be a practice run for getting the dog fed and walked a little earlier than the normal time, then me heading out for a couple of hours. At lunch, instead of just letting him out and lolling around together, we walked for 20 minutes. On top of our 30 minute morning walk, we just needed a shortie to get to his hour of walking.

I'm just sick of doing things by myself. I liked being part of a couple and not being alone in a crowd. I've been to many events on my own where I just couldn't get in to break the ice. Sometimes these events are full of couples and groups and partners, it's hard to navigate solo to initiate a comment or question that will get a conversation going;  and it's just not fun. I actually felt panicky as I let myself think about what I really wanted to do and what I should do. "Should" as in what the world thinks how singles meet others. In theory, it's completely logical.

I thought of my dog upstairs and how much less panic I feel when I'm with him. Unofficially, he really is a support dog for me. I thought about bravely putting on my social face and leaving him at home and accepted I wanted to be with him, at home, not forcing it at some event.

I realize this limits me, but what the hell, true to myself. So, a change of plans.

Mar. 23rd, 2014


Life Goes On

It sure does. No annihilating cold/flu, no grief, no wanting it to stop for a while, makes it do so.

William Baba Joseph passed away fast and surely and peacefully as could be managed, February 28 after 89 years of a great life. Does it take death to realize how great a life lived was? Son of Assyrian immigrants who lost other children, born in the US, lived the life of boys and brothers, enlisted in the Navy and served on a signal ship in the Pacific during WW1. Came back and got a degree. Chased my mom for a few years, then married and had four children, worked hard and steadily, lived and worked in England for 2 years, came back to NJ and soon moved the family, in a station wagon to Florida. Very successful residential and commercial realtor.  Helped a lot of people. Parented tweens in the 70's, send them all to college, saw them marry, divorce, succeed, fail, get back up. Socialized with long loved friends, had lots of fun, worked hard. Life slowed eventually. He didn't really until last summer. He is strong and laughing now. We all see his face and hear his words and feel his love. My Dad.

We learned at his memorial service, that he once proposed to our close circle of friends, that they buy up a big chunk of land and live on it, all of us. This apparently was called 'The Commune' and they spent many food and drink infused events talking it through. I didn't know my Dad was progressive like that. Makes me so proud. The son of one of the other families, told me that he heard a lot of those conversations. He said one of the friends, didn't go for the idea, because it wasn't his. The other one, didn't go for it, because he was too conservative. But Dad was progressive.

Wow! Go Dad! Work and supporting the family was number one and never slipped a hair. Of course he had a life we the kids, didn't know about.


I finally told my ex-boyfriend that we aren't friends. His beaming, can I have a hug, closing in on me was too much. That's to ease his guilt of handling things badly. I wouldn't choose him as a friend if we were starting out again. I have only to look at my 7 month old high energy puppy to realize how cavalier he is about life. We didn't agree to adopt a mild mannered small dog, we agreed to adopt this one and it's all on me now. Harder than I thought, but keeps me learning and loving.

Sahara's inappropriate play behavior was unfortunately reinforced with his original dog walker. She thought the other dogs would 'school' him and he would learn, but he needed more training and intervention than that. 'Schooling' just got him nipped and scratched, without the lesson. I have a new company, we start tomorrow, Monday. I'm getting some one on one training sessions next Saturday, with one of the group.

My work here is to work hard on wait and stay commands, have him be calm before interacting with other humans and dogs, teach him to sniff the dogs butts, not lick the face.  We have to teach him impulse control, how to meet other dogs nicely, and stop the puppy yelping.

I was strict for a while, then lapsed. The last month, I was in a fog. Also thought the first dog walker was doing more with him, put too much faith in her skills. We move on. I think he will be ok. He is a sponge. We have puppy training classes lined up for the next 6 weeks or so, my work with him, and the stricter more skilled trainers working with him everyday.

What a huge responsibility. I feel anxious but good at same time.

So, I've popped back into online dating. I want to meet men and see what happens. I liked being in a relationship, we had so much fun.  I like the idea of some dates and starting slowly. Goodness knows, there are plenty of us singles out there. Would be nice to find a good one.

Life goes on.
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Feb. 23rd, 2014



I was thinking about the phrase: comfort zones. Other than confirming how one best deals with investments, I look at it as more of an alert zone. Alert to denial, stagnation, crowding fears, and numbness.

I said to a friend recently, they are more like discomfort traps.

All the anxieties, neurosis', and soundtracks, cradled in our arms, there to bury our faces in their softly rotting promises, whenever we think of acting on dreams and longings or responding to the whispers of our souls.

They are the step back to the two steps forward; if there are two steps forward.

Everyone's talking and no one is listening. Everyone has great advice but few people take their own. The same words are coming out of everyone's mouth and I in my mask, do the same. I look for myself in the sea of words, the waves that ebb and flow each day, from my coworkers, my neighbors, strangers on the street, a blog, a facebook post. I frame a response, I post my viewpoint, I speak to the strangers.

There is a guy in my neighborhood, who may or may not live in the house a few blocks away for men returning to society after jail time, I'll call it a halfway house.

Maybe he lives on his own and has a developmental disability or lives with the after effects of a physical condition. He speaks very slowly and deliberately using simple words. He collects recyclables from the trash bins set outside. He loves dogs and knows Sahara pretty well. He is handsome despite the damage; tall, fair skin, blue eyes, strong build, very clean. He seems to me to know that he appears imposing, because of his size or circumstance and is respectful on the street. Just writing about him makes my eyes fill up.

One day I will ask, what is your story? Or maybe I will ask one question each time I see him that may lead to more of his story. I hope he has a cat.

I am so isolated. After the break up, there is just me. I don't have a gaggle of friends. My friends annoy me, maybe they're not really great friends. Maybe I'm not such a great friend. I think there is no damn time to nurture friendships. Want to meet for a drink?

I'd love to but: I have to work late, I have to visit my mom, I have to call my mom, I have to run errands, I have to feed the dog, I have no energy because the daily grind wears me down, I have no money; how about next week?

Feb. 11th, 2014



I've noticed this break-up is different than those in the past and it reflects the age and stage I am in life.

I feel fear burbling through my veins, making my mouth tremble and tears well. Fear of everything. The future, the past, not being grounded, finances, death, life, love, day to day to day to day grind...

My alone-ness startles me. It's not in the quiet of the night or the hustle of the morning, but during the day, I realize, there is no one to text to say hi, there will be no one to tell later on, what a bitch so and so was today, there is no one in the bleachers cheering me on anymore.

Years ago, it seems my hormones wrote the scenes, dramatically. It was at night, when I grew restless and tossed and turned, not in fear, but physical ache, that I think I read as an aching soul, but t'was not.

My hormones are quiet, sleeping, makes me a little sad. On top of all the other sadness. I think they went to sleep after the assault and they don't rouse themselves unless I feel very very safe and happy. Which is ok, just so radically different than my younger self's life.

So this time, it is my soul, curled up protectively, waiting it out.

I've noticed something else within myself that I have to guard against.  I'm shuttering and boarding up most of my feelings, most of the day, so I can function at work, as a pleasant hard working person. I usually cry on the way home, in the car. More as a release, opening up the dam, than out of true grief.

That's why I wanted to post something tonight, I have to practice expressing my feelings again. They look so raw and ugly to me, on this page. I hope I can sculpt them into something else. Eventually.

Jan. 30th, 2014


Dreaming of dreaming

I recently realized I no longer seem to be able to daydream and fantasize. And I think this is a fatal detriment to living. If I can't visualize and feel my way into a life first imagined then realized, I will stay where I am or perhaps move very slowly, like a sloth bound by it's physiology, to a situation here, or a corner there. The prison of not choosing, looms.

Naturally I feel like day dreaming most, when I can't, like at work. The relative quiet and hum of the office hive encourage inquisitive thoughts; the two monitors stare at me, begging to be asked meaningful questions; creative seeds sprout  behind the mundane duties.

At night when I finally go to bed, finally put down what I'm reading, and close my eyes and drift, I catch myself thinking about the day that is gone, replaying the film, lingering on what was or uselessly cycling through the worry list, of all that did and can go wrong. And that foolish waste of my mind, creates nothing but the same.

So I determinedly shut that down, and what I found was blank. If I couldn't worry or dwell on the past, my mind didn't know where to go. Which made me start asking, what are my dreams? What is my ideal place, feeling, person, activity? Where does my mind go for fun or excitement? I'm still working on these answers, so I can fill my resting mind with limitless visions and feelings of joy, peace, love, contentment, awe, health and more. And create That.

I find it funny that I got myself here. Funny that I have to teach myself to let my mind travel the world, create, and experience ever widening vistas or small, silent velvety spaces of peace.

The older I get, I see that for me, relearning what I once knew, is a real theme and challenge. When these times arrive, I look back and see so clearly both how the obscurfication happened and how I would have denied it,(or did deny it) if noticed or pointed out to me, at the time.

Learning to daydream again, can't be that difficult, can it? I see myself as a kid in school, looking out the window, traveling somewhere, I will start there.

Sep. 8th, 2012


(no subject)

I barely notice the little pad of paper that sits near the base of my monitor on my work desk. It simply resides there now with the assorted clutter that comes with the clerical nature of accounts payable, neighbors with a few staple removers, paperclip chains, old and new post-its, cheery colored flags and paper that reproduces like single cell amoebas.

When I do notice it, I realize that when I'm at work, I have very few creative thoughts. That was interesting to acknowledge. I work at a start-up, so the duties I have are at least a job and a half or two jobs. I'm never done. It's just a matter of accepting what it is and deftly managing all my superiors and co-workers who need various things from me. Not sure how deftly I do that, but know I'm drained at end of day. 

My direct supervisor is on maternity leave and her manager oversees our little team and he is mellow, nice, thoughtful, smart and very good with people. Not a blamer, just shoots straight to how to handle whatever.

On-leave manager is very A personality. Gets angry, speaks with anger, drills people. We are really hoping the baby mellows her. I'm going to his 60 day birthday party tomorrow night. My co-worker and I went in on a gift. She is a full-fledged accountant and has stepped up and done great work. I don't think she'll get yelled at anymore. But we don't know. I'm sure I will. So we went big and bought the baby a Tiffany silver spoon. We joke endlessly with each other that when on-leave manager comes back and gets angry with us, we will visualize the spoon and project it into her brain, wear pendants with spoons on them, have t-shirts made with silver spoons, wear spoon earrings, spoon hair accessories and on and on. Remember we spent too much money on you for direct reports? We don't mind at all.

So, my creative right brain at work, has to be partners with lefty. It's all about organizing that works for me, creating a schedule and procedures to get through my various loads that work for me-not what on-leave manager thinks it should be. Forming relationships with all the people in the organization that I need information from. Righty is busy figuring out how to live in society not forming words that touch people and express that deep longing in my soul. Maybe those words are being stored by Lefty, would be nice.

I haven't meditated in ages, but I do yoga almost everyday. I walk several times a week. I have a boyfriend which is another way of growing. Getting this relationship in middle age has been very cool. Lot to be said about that timing, perhaps another time.

We hiked a bit at Mt. Shasta a few weeks ago. I never knew that area was so mountain filled. Incredible. Loved the whole spiritual vibe, we saw a cloud ship, the majesty and beauty and peace overflows the mind. We stretched ourselves and discovered in each other that we're good hiking partners, reasonably good athletes, love pushing ourselves, can't wait to get out more. Have talked about getting a small tent.

I didn't go to Burning Man this year. I missed it. Now I miss the after affects, the processing of all the experiences. I'll try for a ticket next year, I have no idea how the process will be.

I do get tired of people saying it isn't what it used to be, it's this or that, some people who have never gone have very vocal opinions. I say, it changes like every thing changes. Younger people will go and become loyal. Some will never go back. Old timers will eventually stop going. It's evolution and life. When you're there, you start experiencing it. That part I think, does not change.

No matter the red tape, the logistics of managing 55,000 people in the middle of a desert, no matter the rules or lack of, or whatever...it is being there, with 55,000 people, building your home, having your mind blown by art, nature, music, being solitary and hearing your own voice with 55,000 people. There is work, yes, building camp, keeping it clean, keeping food supply eatable, keeping your body going in the heat, getting along with your people, seeing yourself as you are, without the comfortable crutches we are so accustomed to back in default world.

Yeah, I missed it. Here in the bay area, so many people go, I see the dust covered cars here and there and my heart shatters for a minute then reforms.

Jul. 22nd, 2012


(no subject)

I'm having brunch with J later this morning. After his therapy session on Wednesday, where he said he 'was beat up pretty bad and well deservedly' he wrote me a lovely invitation to brunch. His therapist has known him a long time and she called him out on his latest behaviors towards me.

I admire him a lot for going through with therapy. He is proving to be both old & new school. He really wants to change some things about himself, behaviors that stem from childhood, father issues, environmental, etc.

It was a lonely couple of weeks for me. People here on LJ seemed to understand me. The real-time friends I spoke to, depressed me, they all had similar reactions. Was I being too sensitive? Was I asking for too much? Men don't like to do this, or that. This is how it is with men.

What I heard, was that if I wanted this man and relationship with a lot of good qualities but others I wasn't comfortable, with, I would have to change.

Don't get me wrong. I always want to be more tolerant, handle things differently. But even J knew he had worn down my patience. He admitted he was passive aggressive and knew exactly what he was doing/saying. He admits he can be controlling and childish. He wants to change and be better for himself and me. He is firm in his resolve that I am for him. He said he's never known a woman like me that stood up for herself. He thinks I'm a sort of super female/ as in Superwoman. So that's lovely.

I can see in myself where in the past, I valued what my friends thought and advised more than what my gut was telling me regarding men. And I tried to change myself to accept what I didn't want to accept. And got no where by doing that of course. 

I'm looking forward to brunch. I've missed him. I'm bored with myself. I want to enjoy life and a close friendship/relationship again. It was a lonely few weeks especially with the gentle friendly suggestions and advice that I am too difficult for any man. Just some of them I think.

I have so many aches and pains in my body. 51 years on this earth. Is this normal? Am I withering down to a creaky crabby crone?

To the yoga mat!

Jul. 14th, 2012


(no subject)

Chilly early Saturday morning, family time with the cats (combing session) laundry churning downstairs, sun slowly melting fog away, reading all over the net and finishing Ann Patchett's State of Wonder. I have 2 more novels waiting for me, and fingers crossed, am hoping my first newly renewed New Yorker arrives today.

I've been starved of good reading, this past week I could feel the difference. I sleep differently; dreams are bits of the novels, bits of life's situations, bits of amusing nonsensical typical dream like things. During the day, I think of my characters, form questions that I wish the author had answered, wonder casually what will come next.

I will not miss what has become a pattern the last several weekends. The baggage mudslide that hits midway through the evening and I wonder what the hell am I doing wrong and then he admits its all him, and I agree, at least 95%. Of course, will miss the missable things. 

Jul. 12th, 2012


(no subject)

Feeling a bit miffed and slighted, also questioning why. That questioning of course, is a very healthy thing to do, to inspect one's thoughts and emotions. Still annoyed though. Space between thoughts and emotions is freeing. Space is created when one meditates and practices yoga, in our own bodies and minds. Creating space is so good and it's hard, because you have to S L O W it all down and step back.

J and I are on a break, because I think it will do us good, to communicate but not be together; it's the result of alot of his actions. He's got a macho streak, swath, freeway in him that translates to some inconsiderate behaviors. And this he knows, and is admirably working through this.

So, this weekend he's having a BBQ? Seriously?  It's a rather significant event, it's the first gala he's had in a year and a half, first party as a single man.

I really really really love this:

  “Here's all you have to know about men and women: women are crazy, men are stupid. And the main reason women are crazy is that men are stupid.”
George Carlin, When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?

No offense anyone.

Oct. 17th, 2011


(no subject)

Amazing times these are. Americans in the street peacefully protesting corporate greed, corporate rule; fighting for their homes, education, jobs, a living wage, a place to peacefully assemble. Finally, Americans in the street. Watch the videos of peaceful Americans being beaten by cops while politicians rail against human abuses in other countries. Are you watching? Are you awake? Turn off the corporate news, log online and read what's really happening. Visit your nearest city's occupy home. Americans in the street.

I didn't think this would happen in my lifetime. Now I'm honored. My heart is breaking for the demonstrators who are being beaten and robbed of their essentials needed to camp, to occupy. But I also know, because I've been there, that their humor, their will and their love is 'unbeatable.' Solidarity.

Amazing times. No job for so long. Living my life, staying responsible, getting to know myself, doing more with more people, recognizing and being happy with my own humanity, my own occupation.

Confusing and lovely times.  People walking into my heart. Me, actually being able to step into theirs.

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