Humanity

In which I write ‘what pleases me’.

what pleases me.

  1. finally getting my former mother in law on the phone. she remembers me. and we laugh like no time has passed. she threatens to kill me and I almost pee myself. This is the goodness, the love.
  2. growing things. watering the plants and watching them change. remembering what waters me and how i change, despite appearances.
  3. lighting a candle when i’m working. boy, does it draw me in. so ancient a tool.
  4. the feeling of water filling me up and spilling out my ears when i think i might not be able to hear her voice on the phone many more times. (its not pleasing, no, but the satisfaction is that the grief is not here yet. i will not borrow it early.)
  5. my elders getting vaccinated.
  6. palettes. pallets. palettes. food, paint, food, paint. trucks.
  7. using my new workspace and staring at the bookshelves. the words i can pick out over there are like this: dragons, ice, ashes, frost, fire, dawn. It is its own fantasy. There is also auden, o’connor, rowling, smithsonian, sibley, brewer, and keene.
  8. I’m taking my christmas tree down, a little earlier than planned, honestly. because i need the space for the next season, the new growth. i’ll have to live with the discomfort of the empty space for a little bit before i fill it again. isn’t that always the way?
  9. a bath. a bath always pleases me. today i will cry about my mother-in-law, despite my not borrowing grief. i’m not, i’m really not. i have bath bombs and salts. and hot water. and that’s all that i need.
  10. it pleases me that i made it to ten. that i’m wearing two sweaters and a scarf and i feel naked without my hat. it pleases me that i’m letting go of so many things, and i can see how many more there are to go. and then there will be that unbearable lightness. and i will float like a feather on a breeze.

that is the shortlist, my lovies. the life is good. and rich and full of tragedy and more life than we can handle. isn’t it, though?

-kate

wood art painting colorful
Photo by Markus Spiske on Pexels.com
Humanity

in which i call bullshit on myself.


It is what it is.

I’m a pleaser. I want the people around me to be happy. I want to smooth their way forward in life. I want to leave behind a satisfied grin. I want to be the hidden favorite, the one who brings a smile. the generous one. the good one.

After I do this pleasing, smoothing thing for a while, with adults, I feel the ting and tang of loss. What have I been given, for all that giving? Have they just taken it all and run? what do they know of me?

You know what? This cycle doesn’t really do me a lot of good. It’s gross. You ever hear of a male artist who spent his free time smoothing the way for others? No? You don’t think Hemingway gave a shit if the kitchen counters were clean do you? You think he gave a shit for anything besides his beer and his next adventure?

Almost all the famous women artists that you know of? No kids.

I don’t even have the energy today to call myself an artist. I fight it, in my head, pointing to other people instead. But you know what?! I call bullshit on that.

Just because I don’t have the myopic self-absorption of a male artist? I’m constantly distracted from thought and doing by children and house and family, constantly. and I don’t want to give that up, or choose otherwise. (i mean, i’d give up the distractability, but not the kids and their lives, right?)

They’re growing, I don’t have anyone physically attached to me anymore, so it is easing. Their demands are for presence and food. And the presence has to be close, but not too close. And I laugh as I type, because its true now of all of them, even the 8 year old girl. I’m the favorite sofa. Necessary at times, but not especially expected to speak. I’m the witness and the solidity. (and that might be the best thing i have ever written about the way i’m parenting these kids. although i need to squish flexible into the solidity somehow and I’ll work on that tomorrow. )

I don’t make enough currently with my writing. I’m still supported by alimony and child support. I’m going to have to get a higher paying job to manage without them. When then will I have the time for the writing and the thinking? I’m not at all digging where my mood is taking me right now.

it is the way it is.

and it’s my whole gig right now, to imagine something else.

my daughter asked me what my dream job would be. just this morning. no lie. and i told her, ‘mom’ and then for the second, i was stuck. but also very very dreamy. what is it? what’s the feeling i want when i go to work, what’s the subject i want to be working with? thinking with? hmm?

I need to get more dreamy.

This is a rambler. I’m working shit out, I think. Maybe next time I’ll write it somewhere else first and come here with something more cohesive.

but i wouldn’t want to shock you too much. heh.

hmmm. thought-filled.

love, love,

me.

Humanity

Starting up. February’s ending game.

I know I’ve been off my game, I’ve felt it. I haven’t been writing, but I’ve been full of thoughts about how I’ve not been writing and that, honestly, can just bite it. Its not enough, its not.

Its like the taxes that are sitting next to me on the desk. The actual job would take ten minutes. So, why are they sitting next to me on the desk and not winging their way to their destiny? Hmm.

So, I’m going to set myself the task of writing again, for real, again. I’m not holding myself to every day, but 5/7 would be pretty awesome. March it is. The anniversary of our discontent.

Sigh. all the ‘last times’ that we didn’t know about. a year ago. I predict not much writing about it really, i am not really producing a time-capsule for the sake of history, after all.

I find that the writing connects me to my deeper self, and i’m bolstered by the sharing of it. The imagination that tells me there are a small multitude cheering me on, and maybe doing their own thinking of their deeper selves.

I want to go back to that tether ball pole, idly waiting for players. I need the tether, in this chill spring. A whole tumult of change is arriving, again, and I do like the smell of the dirt in this season. (though the mud? questionable)

End of February. Beginning of March. What have we here?

What have we?

Love love,

me.

black and white chickadee
Photo by cmonphotography on Pexels.com
Humanity

Off balance, entirely, february.

I’m stepping in to one of my new classes today, with a little bit of a meeting with the class leader.

It will be awkward, I will have to think on my feet and there will be no surface area questions.

Sometimes the best stuff happens when you are unsteady on your feet.

  • all three went to school this morning. I’m home, in a ‘regular’ fashion for the first time in 11 months. i’m off my rocker.
  • I have had the meeting now. There was so much silence. Its the trick of the questioner, making you do all the work, to connect one word to another and to arrive at an idea. i’m completely unsure.
  • I took an exam yesterday that was so poorly put together I wanted to scream. Because of its insanity, its easily possible that I failed. Motherfuckers.
  • i’ve fallen twice this week. once on an ice patch in the yard that I couldn’t see in the dark, and once in the breakfast nook as i tried to step over two boxes of chips. Chip crumbs, now. Thar she goes, unsteady on her feet and moving steadily to the horizon.
  • my kids’ point about my not wearing business casual clothes has stayed with me. I am not wearing rayon any time soon, but maybe I should find out if I have any real pants anymore. And maybe give away some of the sweats. Its unsettling to imagine wearing real pants, and that is probably a problem. Right?

Go forth. Be unsettled.

love you,

kate

Humanity

Fucksake and fingers crossed, February.

I’m disconnected from things right now.

Seeing the end of winter coming, (fingers crossed)

The possibility that I will actually have all three in school tomorrow. (fingers crossed)

I’m hopeful about a couple of things, and castigating myself for the hope. (for fucksake.)

I’m signing up for more classes that will teach me more things. I’m looking forward to that. (fingers crossed)

Today I have to take a test to prove what I know about supportive coaching. (fingers crossed)

Someone far north of me posted pics of daffodil greens poking through the dirt. (fingers crossed and oh my god, i need to go check my yard!)

Taxes. (fucksake)

Covid continues despite my hopes for spring. (fucksake and fingers crossed, both)

I just hit 25K words on a project that has to be over 30 in four days. (fucksake and fingers crossed, again.)

I have just eaten two entire boxes of candy. Now I need a much larger writing break. (FOR FUCKSAKE KATE!)

love love.

fingers crossed,

me.