It’s 11 PM, and I’m waiting for an artichoke to cook. Finally getting around to eating dinner. Today has continued the theme of wishing I could remain bedridden while still accomplishing all of my goals and tasks. I did manage to stay in my cozy bed for much of the day, but some things required out-of-bedness. For instance, chalk pastels in bed? Not such a great idea.
Mainly I lazed about in my nightgown today. Brooded a little. Thought a lot. Drew and wrote some. Listened to music. Chatted with an old friend and kept track of world events. It was definitely a well-executed mental health day.
I thought a lot about understanding vs. accommodating. And the fact that I can very much understand someone else’s choices. I might even endorse those choices. I might possibly even fight for that person’s right to make those choices. However, understanding fully why someone has made the choices they have made does not necessarily obligate me to make the same choices, or to invite the potential consequences of those choices into my daily life. That’s been a difficult lesson for me to learn, but it’s a good one. I’m glad to have learned that this week. I’m glad to have come to terms with it. Understanding is not agreement. And just because I don’t desire something does not mean I don’t understand it.
Anyway, my artichoke is almost done. Nom nom. Eats!
I THOUGHT it was 7 AM when I woke up today. According to my alarm clock, it was. I was tired when I woke, but when am I not? I thought to myself “Quit being such a baby. Considering the time change, it’s actually past the time you would normally wake up…in fact, you’d have already worked half an hour by now!” Determined to start my new (later start) work schedule off right by taking a morning walk, I got out of bed, sleepily donned my walking clothes, and greeted the dark dawn. Then I looked at my phone clock. The one that automatically sets itself for DST. 6 AM. hahaha. Well, ok, then.
I’m kind of excited to see how this new schedule treats me. There’s something about a schedule change that is invigorating. For the next three months, I’ll have Saturdays off (where I used to have Sunday off) and my start time is two hours later. Of course, my end time is also two hours later, and with 10 hour days, that pretty much eats my entire day…but if I’m disciplined, and continue to get up just a little later than I used to wake up, I can pack some really good exercise, reading, and a nice meal into that extra two hours in the morning so it doesn’t feel like all I ever do is work. And having three days off in a week is really helpful. As is starting this new schedule immediately after DST, when I’m still used to time being an hour later than it actually is.
A lot of my friends are doing NANOWRIMO. I’m not. However, I’m hoping to have the content for the first issue of my zine done by the end of the month, so I can do the layout the first week of next month and get it printed by the solstice. If I can get the first issue out by January, I’ll be happy. I’m probably going to do a WePay campaign…or maybe even a kickstarter campaign…to raise money for it in advance, because I am broke. BROKE. BROKE. And both of the kids still need ALL OF THE THINGS.
Anyway, I’m pretty sure the name of the zine is going to be “Oyster Lexicon.” It will be an alphabet of the things I love, and the first issue will include letters A-F:
A-Artichoke
B-Birds
C-Chicago
D-Dancing
E-Eyeglasses
F-Feminism
It will be a full-color zine with drawings and hand-written text. And I’ll probably do postcards to go along with it, and sell them for a bit extra. Maybe if I do a kickstarter, I’ll throw the original art in as a perk. My hope is that I will at least break even, and maybe even make some extra for the next issue or just to have for various art projects I’d like to do, and the zine library.
The zine library, which I’m planning to open up at least 1-2 times a month with a reading room and discussion topics. I’m super excited to finally know people I can actually talk to for advice and planning for this, and hopefully we can bring the various zine libraries around Austin (two others that I know of – maybe more that I don’t) together to create some sort of database. What I’d REALLY like to do is have an IZDB – like the IMDB – a database that includes zines, zine producers, zine contributors, and zine topics, with everything cross-referenced and maybe even sample scans.
These are my big plans. So, it’s sort of like NANOWRIMO, only more like LOZILIMO (local zine library month) for me. ❤
I’ve decided I’m going to attempt to write a poem a day in October. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to accomplish it, and I’m double not sure if I’ll want to share what I’ve written…but I am committing myself to trying, and as inspiration I’m going to read poetry every day, so at the very least I will link to a poem I have read. And I know it’s not October yet, but…
I’m in the process of writing a long post about my experience with the Occupy movement over the past 2 years. I started writing it on 9/17 – the anniversary of OWS. But it’s such a personal topic for me. I want to be careful that I don’t make my experiences sound as if they are universal experiences, which is what frustrates me most about what I read about the Occupy movement. So, it’s going to take some time. Perhaps I’ll have it done by 10/6, which is the anniversary of Occupy Austin.
I’m also immersed in a spree of overtime. Like ACTUAL overtime that I’m ACTUALLY PAID FOR! Time and a half, and everything. It occurred to me tonight that I haven’t been able to take advantage of overtime pay since before I had children. I’m really enjoying being paid for every fucking minute I work. I can handle a little temporary work/life imbalance for that. I’m also really enjoying my job. It’s gotten to the point where most of the situations I deal with are easy for me to handle, and I really love the fact that I get to talk to people all day in the spirit of helpingness. Plus I really love my team, who I only have to interact with in chat. We’re on a team of about 20 people who all work different schedules and are from different cities, and every person on our team has some sweet, endearing quality that I adore. Today I worked an entire full day of overtime and I actually really enjoyed myself pretty much all day. I’m missing my friends and activist activities, but all in good time.
from _Gregory_ by Marc Hempel
I’m pleased to say that both of the boys are settling into the school year nicely and seem to be doing really well. I feel like a broken record, but I’m so proud of those guys. It really has been a rough couple of years for them, and I hate that. I especially hate that decisions I have made have made their lives more difficult, because I want only for their lives to be peaceful and easy and uncomplicated. Ha!
But the awesome thing about those guys is that they really are totally brave and strong and resilient. And also really quite funny and fun to be around, even though they do both have their teenage moments that occasionally stretch on for days and even sometimes weeks. At this age, parenting requires a magnifying glass, to enlarge fragments of microcosms of moments into a bonding experience. I don’t want to give away too many of my secrets, but I have recently discovered the wonders of plopping down on my sofa and watching a dumb movie as a means of enticing my children to emerge from wherever they were hiding and clamor for conversation. And I’ll take that!
from _Gregory_ by Marc Hempel
Tattoo gets finished on Sunday. I’m already wanting another one. Several. Maybe even that little mouse, Wendell…or Herman Vermin. hahaha.
Mommy-Son time with The Tao of Bird today. We went out to breakfast at his FAVORITE RESTAURANT ON EARTH, Donut Taco Palace.
We ate donuts AND tacos, and enjoyed some tasty beverages.
Juice…or no juice?
I kept trying to get a picture of Bird, but he kept, as he called it, “Sean Penning” me.
I have embarrassingly few photos of my children. Both of them started to hate having their photo taken at a young age, and I gradually just trained myself to take pictures of food and trees and birds and stuff. I can’t say I blame them…I’m not terribly fond of being in photos, either. But I need good material to embarrass them in front of their dates wi…er, I mean, to send to relatives who have no clue what my children look like.
After breakfast, Bird and I went to the library to check out some books. Bird is really enjoying Lord of the Flies. He is just certain that’s the way it would really be if children were stranded on an island. I told him he needs to watch Lost…or Gilligan’s island…for slightly different points of view. He says he likes books that are grim and depressing and unsentimental. I tried to get him to read Native Son by Richard Wright, but he chose some sort of weird space cowboy mystery, instead. I think this is going to be an interesting reading year for him. He’s exploring new things. I chose some awesome books that I won’t be able to finish by the time they are due, and will probably end up buying, after paying my overdue fine at the library. Because that’s how I roll.
In the car on the way home, we listened to this episode of Radiolab. What’s funny, is I remember listening to that episode of radiolab on a walk by myself one night. I was going to pick up Bird at a neighbor’s house while I was listening to it. I have no idea why I remember that, as the day was completely insignificant, unless you consider that radio show to be significant, which I suppose you can. It’s a pretty good episode.
Back home, I watched Heathers while Buddha the Grouch scoffed. As a 16-year old (actually, pretty much since he turned 5) he seems morally obligated to scoff at anything I like. In fact, he has actually told me that he’s not allowed to like anything I recommend to him. I keep telling him that’s going to bite him in the ass, especially when all of his friends start talking about how awesome, say, Raising Arizona is…and he’s either going to have to admit that it’s a great movie, or he’s going to forever be a closeted Coen Bros. fan. But I wonder if Heathers is really only funny in the context of all of the ’80s John Hughes-formula teen angst movies. I guess I’ll have to ask someone else’s kid. I hadn’t watched the movie since my 20’s, and I laughed out loud at some parts, but OH, THOSE SHOULDERPADS. hahaha. Of all of the eras of fashion, you have to admit…the 80’s were pretty fucking ridiculous.
The rest of the day was spent grocery shopping, driving to the other side of town and back, and avoiding being sucked into an endless “How It’s Made” marathon, because apparently that’s on Netflix now. I’m so toast if they ever start streaming House Hunters. As it is, Buddha the Grouch keeps trying to get me to watch “just this little bit” of How It’s Made, and I keep objecting vociferously.
So, you know, typical weekend of late. I’m glad I’ve taken the time to spend extra time with (or at least being available to) the kiddos lately. I’ve missed out on some important activities that I’d really like to be involved in, but I just don’t feel right not being here right now. Especially with the coming weeks and the work-hour craziness they will be bringing. Insane amounts of overtime – here I come! I’m telling people I’ll probably see them in October. Hopefully, I’ll still have time to write.
This week has been kind of a whirlwind. I had really just begun to establish myself at work and not stress at all about whether or not I could do my job…and they threw us into training for something new. Which is awesome. It’s nice to learn new things…but I was just at that point where it seemed like I might maybe start establishing a good rhythm in my life & my schedule was thrown all out of whack, I’ve had to work extra hours, and now we’re being offered a bunch of overtime that I’d feel silly to not grab up while the grabbing is good. So, there’s that. A mix of bad and good things. Good things and their maybe not-so-great consequences, is what I’ll call it.
On my walk today, I had all sorts of ideas about what I might write about tonight. Apropos of the above, I thought a lot about how I have this love/hate relationship with chaos/order. I like making plans and schedules, but I rebel against them regularly. It’s possible I dislike commitment. It’s possible I am not fond of predictability. It’s possible that patterned behavior annoys me. OR…it could be an exercise. It COULD be that my rebellion against my inner organizer is just practice for when all of my plans go to shit and I work 12 hours of overtime in a week or something.
Maude (from Harold & Maude): Vice, Virtue. It’s best not to be too moral. You cheat yourself out of too much *life.* Aim above morality. If you apply that to life, then you’re bound to live life fully.
But mostly, I think I just figured out a long time ago that I will never ever get done all of the shit that needs getting done, and decided I might as well prioritize the fun shit as much as possible.
I also decided, after years and years (gosh, more than 20 years, really) of de-prioritizing my own desires, needs, and rituals out of fear of spending money on them, to get a tattoo I’ve been hoping to get for some time. Fuck the fact that I can’t afford it. I also can’t afford any of the other stuff I’m forced to afford, and I somehow get by. And how many packs of ex-boyfriends’ cigarettes, guitars, and whatever else have I paid for in my lifetime of waiting to get this damn tattoo? I could have gotten a zillion and a half tattoos by now!
Needless to say, I’m already planning the next tattoo.
Today’s walk included several songs in a row that were fighting songs. As in, don’t stop fighting. As in “You Can’t Win ‘Em All, But You Gotta Win All of the Right Ones.” And, you know, in order to win the right ones…you gotta keep fighting. Maybe a better example would be:
Or my old standby pep talk song:
Anyway, you get the drift. I believe we have emerged, victorious. Yay!
(I knew we would, but it’s still nice to celebrate that we have.)
I’m celebrating by dying my hair and earnestly working on drawings for my zine. And FINALLY getting that tattoo that I’ve been wanting to get but have never been able to justify the expense of. Fuck it. It’s expensive. I can’t justify it. Well, I can, actually…it’s justified because it will be awesome, and it will remind me of my strength. And all of the strength it has taken to get here.
I’m slowly pulling things back together. I have another week of a weird work schedule, and after that I feel like I’ll be able to really participate in all of the things I enjoy participating in again. Slowly, and with priority. I’m already starting to read more…trying to take walks or dance every night. Really haven’t been seeing friends as much as I’d like, but I’m also feeling kind of introvertedy lately, so that hasn’t really bothered me. Working really hard to make sure we have at least SOME family time carved out so we don’t all lose touch with each other. These are the things I am prioritizing.
I’d like to keep participating in actions against ALEC and TPP, for sure…but probably not leading or organizing. What I’d really like to focus my energy on is housing justice. It was going to be what I focused on this year, but then I got laid off. And everything kind of got all weird. And then the state of Texas went to war over my uterus, and I kind of had to stand and fight that one. I’d like to get back to figuring out how I can be helpful in achieving truly affordable housing in Austin, and how we can ensure the protection of people who are being exploited or abused by apartment managers. That’s what I’d truly love to spend my activist energy on.
I don’t feel adequately educated to speak in any depth on Syria. I’m against all war, so I’m sort of working backwards from there. It would take a LOT of convincing to get me to support ANY war. Which makes it easy to oppose war, but is also kind of a cop-out. I still need to educate myself. I’m working on it. Slowly.
The Tao of Bird started school yesterday. He’s been really anxious about it, but I have been doing my best to get him prepared. Slowly over the preceding weeks we’ve worked on desensitizing as much as we can, and I’ve tried to remain positive with him even though my fucking heart is breaking about this and I think it’s totally dumb. I’ve reassured him that he’ll be fine, that he’s prepared, that he’ll make friends…that there’s nothing to be afraid of, and that, regardless, just about everyone else there has the same fears.
My plan was to get to the school early Monday morning to get his schedule so I could at least make sure he knew how to get to all of his classes. Unfortunately, the registrar had other plans, and we spent all the time I had intended to spend further preparing him for a successful first day sitting in the office (yet again) because there was some question about our paperwork. Oh, the endless freaking paperwork you have to fill out to go to school these days – most of which seems to center on keeping certain students OUT of certain schools.
But we got it figured out, and we were directed down the (wrong) hallway to TOB’s first class, corrected ourselves, and I shooed him in the right direction before going home.
I spent the whole day expecting to get a call from the counselor…or someone. But, nothing. It seemed like this school thing might take. TOB came home in a somewhat upbeat mood, and managed to maintain that for several hours before breaking down in tears, telling me how stressful it was, telling me he couldn’t even eat lunch because the cafeteria stressed him out so bad. Telling me he wasn’t going to go to school anymore. And I gave him the pep talk. And I went over the routine for bedtime, breakfast time, school time, and after-school time.
And this morning when I tried to wake him up…he didn’t want to get up. Then he got up…but he didn’t want to get out of bed. Then he got out of bed, but he was ABSOLUTELY NOT GOING TO SCHOOL. And over the period of an hour, we inched closer and closer to the door…me alternating between attempting to encourage and trying not to scream at the top of my lungs. Closer to the door. Closer. Closer. Until I was able to get him out. Said goodbye. Locked up. Went to my office. Came out to check 5 minutes later, and he was gone. “Phew.” I thought.
On my break, I felt a twinge of sorrow when I exited my office and there was no TOB flinging himself at me from some corner of the house.
I went to the back door to let the cat in…
And there was TOB.
“What the…?” I opened the door. He said “Hi mom. I’m going to school tomorrow. I thought about it. I’m sorry. By the way, while I was out there the cats and I started a cult of Carl Sagan. Tiny Cat is a bad disciple, though.”
You know…sometimes you look at your children, and they seem so much BIGGER than they should be. Today I looked at TOB – who is pretty much as tall as me now. And I couldn’t get over how tiny he seems. I gotta say – I think he’s a tough kid. I think he’s a lot stronger than he should have to be at his age. Don’t get me wrong about that. But after all of the phone calls and conversations with counselors and emails to his father and tears and discussions and agreements…all I could think about was how very much I love that little guy. Like, with all my fucking heart. And I just don’t want anyone to fuck with him. I want him to be as HIM as he possibly can be. Silly, smart, brave, kind, strong, sensitive, sweet…HIM.
So, I’m trying to remain honest. I’m acknowledging that I’m not feeling great about all of this, but that it will be good for him to be settled into a routine. This whole year has been a huge disruption in the life of our family. In the lives of these children. They’ve been through the ringer. Being in school gives TOB a good neutral ground to stand on and cultivate his own identity independent of his overbearing mommy and his know-it-all big brother. He has a foundation of learning, and love of learning, that I know will persist. And he has some pretty significant obstacles he needs to overcome. I’m not averse to having a team of experts helping me support him in dealing with those obstacles.
I’m trying to focus on these things, but I will still visibly flinch when I read teacher handouts that contain misspelled words. And I will still audibly complain when I’m filling out YET ANOTHER FUCKING FORM, especially if said FUCKING FORM is on treated paper that’s impossible to actually write on.
Onward and upward. Tomorrow is another day. I’ve been assured it will be better. Cross your fingers for us, plz.
Lately I’ve been dancing. By myself. In my room. Because I don’t feel like being outside walking. And because it feels good to move. And to be alone. And have I mentioned I have pretty lights on my bed? Hehehe.
I’m writing the Lexicon of Lainie. I’ve always threatened to write a Lexicon of the Duro Landry family, but I never get around to it, so I’m writing the lexicon of Lainie. This is the idea for the zine. It’s evolving.
A sampling of the lexicon:
A – Artichoke
B – Birds
C – Chicago
D – You get the drift…
The lexicon for our family would include a lot of potty humor and all of the foibles of my awkward mothering moments with my boys. Like the time I burst out laughing the first time I saw a sign for “Fallas” and when the boys asked why, I responded with factual information about the meaning of the word “phallus,” which was totally scandalous of me, apparently. They will never let me forget that, among other things. And the various words and phrases…like the way Monk once said “pickle” by sticking his tongue out at the end…or how Cole used to like to squeeze the fat on my arm…which he would frequently request to do by asking me “Can I pinch your arm have?”
Among other things. Hahaha. You know? I’m a pretty darn lucky mama.
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