Eye Openers

Tonight I facilitated a fundraiser for a Republican candidate for US Congress. And, I must admit, many of the people were personable and approachable. They sported much bling - gold, diamonds, gems, etc. But they were mostly nice. However, when it came time for speech...

There was talk of morality, of taking back America, of reducing deficits and eliminating hand-outs. People clapped and cheered at the rousing speech.

He talked about deficit spending but didn't mention an unbudgeted war. He talked remaining ahead of China but didn't mention the numerous tax advantages to corporations who offshore jobs. He talked about protecting Vets but didn't mentioned unfunded (and-ill-founded) wars. And, of course, he talked about a budget deficit without mentioning that Clinton had a net-positive budget and the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were waged "off the books."

All of this is rhetorical and idealogic and ya'all know what side of the fence I fall on. But here is my final reminder of why I am who I am.

I worked the fundraiser because I was outsourced from a job and haven't gotten another in this restrictive economy. I worked it because I like meeting people and I'm willing to be open minded. I worked it because my rent was due.

And then I heard a woman say (and I quote:) "If the poor don't like it, I don't care."

There you go folks, a return to moral values.

Jesus, I suggest you put on your Manola Blaniks and forget about The Meek. It's all about taxation structure after all...

Wow - Look at me!

I have an 8 a.m. Skype interview. (So, why, you ask, am I blogging at 10ish? Hello my insomniac friends.) It's a really interesting position and one I think I could be super successful in. And the decision process will be relatively short - they want to make an offer next week. I think I'm the lead horse in the running, but one never knows.

I spoke with Amazing Therapist about this today. The application process - and exponentially, the interviewing process - is really putting yourself in a vulnerable position. In reality, there are many factors at play. Are they a good fit for you? Are you a good fit for the role? Do you have the qualities they need or are you over-qualified and likely to become bored? None of these are "self judgement questions." If you get offered the job, it's because it's a good fit. For you. For them. If not, well, some puzzle pieces don't size up.

But it is SOOOO easy to take it as a judgement. If I don't get hired, there's something wrong with me. Something deficient. Maybe I didn't answer the questions right. Maybe they didn't think I could do the job. Maybe...

So, I'm in that precarious situation. I want to believe I want and can get this job. But I also don't want to find myself devastated if I don't get it. I sent my resume in less than a week ago. I haven't really had time to mull over the myriad possibilities. But I know that, if I'm told they've offered it to someone else, the likelihood is I'll go downward tilt, at least for awhile. So my homework for this week is to keep in mind exactly how demanding this whole vulnerable process it.

Because no matter what happens or what they decide; look at me. I sent in my resume. I went through the trouble of searching the job boards. I personalized the cover letter. I dressed up and went on an interview. I put my portfolio up for review. I exposed myself to a delicate situation.

And so, Amazing Therapist has asked me to hold this truth: No matter what happens, I've been brave. Really, fucking brave.

That said - I'm still asking friends and sundry to send me some serious light for this one.

9.5 hours and counting...

You'll End Up Crying

SHOCK - it's the name of an A-Ha song. But it's super appropriate today.

I've had some REALLY awesome things happen. I have a jobby-job interview tomorrow. I talked with an amazing human being I'd fallen out of touch with. Still...

I went to sleep crying. I'm moving into a good friends' house and opinion seemed...off. Likely cuz she's moving overseas. But I worried that it was also a fear of me living in her space. I'm afraid too, but I also know that her soul will be surrounding me and that is much to keep me safe.

I also felt memories of Glostah keeping me sad. It's a month away, but already I'm grieving. I know it's likely temporarily and that this plan makes sense in so many ways. But still....

Add that to a very tense conversation with Good Buddy (shock - it was me telling him his "rudder" was here...) and a possible crush on a coworker and....

Fuck. It's been a long week. No wonder I'm crying

Ugh and Not

I had dinner the other night with friends. We did a three-part toast: To sparkly birthdays, to happy trails and to new roomies.

It's definitely a time of transition. I'm moving away from a place I love. A place I've loved to call home. Glostah is a unique space unto itself and I'm very - very - sad to be leaving it. Still, I hate to walk into a cafe or store or restaurant without feeling anxious. I'll leave it at that.

The timing of everything worked out too well for me to deny The Universe was steering me in that direction. Amazing therapist says "this is probably right for now. And who knows what the next step will be." She's right, but I'm still wicked sad. I cry a lot these days.

I realize I've scared a lot of friends by making this blog non-public. So I'm going to make it public again. I'm sure there are some people monitoring it, but I can't live my life so anxious and tense. I've always believed in an open and free world and I've lived "out loud" for long enough to not let situations stop me (hello dooced).

To sum up, I'm conflicted but hopeful. Anxious but positive. Celebratory and mourning.

And now, I'm going to feed Fuzzy Bucket, make tea and drink it watching the ocean and then, yeah, probably go back to sleep. I'm wicked tired from yesterday, but more on that fun and games later. (Hint: Winery life is gooooooood.)

Who Do Ya Love?

This is kinda sorta a continuation of a previos post. But, I guess I need to work through this issue...

Through my previous posts, readers may have come to realize I have eclectic tastes ... I like pop-culture detective shows (Criminal Minds); insightful, yet blue, comedy; and raunchy, often mean and rude radio shows (Opie and Anthony, Smodcast, The Joe Rogan Experience). And yet, I love NPR, America Left, BBC News and The Daily Show.

Just like in high school where I was on the Lit Mag group AND the cheerleading team, I still don't fit neatly into any one corner.

I'm tired of justifying it. A dear, wonderful, big-hearted friend helped me get through the last few days of insecurity. Yet he found my radio family offensive and cruel. Another wonderful soullmate couldn't believe I listened to "NPR drivel." (Hello Rachel Maddow!) Someone else heard my giggling and sat down to watch a Daniel Tosh special. To her obvious chagrin.

I can't please everyone. And I can't please any someone all of the time. I don't pin down well. Maybe that's why I'm so hard to live with. Or be in a relationship with. Or figure out.

For what it's worth: I took a class in relative religions in college. We discussed a living candidate for sainthood and his writings. And while I valued a lot of what he said, I came away with this: "His writings are inspirational, but if I were his friend, I'd find him annoying."

I'm not entirely pure or entirely righteous or entirely holy. I'm also not entirely depraved or entirely decadent or entirely immoral.

I'm just me. No more no less. I'm not going to apologize for the obnoxious radio shows I listen to or make excuses for the completely obvious liberal talk shows I watch. I don't want to turn down the volume on some things or turn up the volume on other things. I guess I'm tired of being "a type."

Drifting,Floating

There has been so much going on. From choosing to live a hostile-free home to figuring out where I will live and who I want to be and how to get there from here...

And I think alot about how I can/may heal myself. And often, I focus on the time I've spent at Kripalu for yoga, meditation, companionship, understanding. And, yes, those are moments worth savoring and holding onto.

But, recently, I've found myself being less drawn to that and more drawn to the brainy, esoteric, (and, frankly) base humor of my favorite comics and spoken word artists.

I don't know why. I can guess at the reasons. Maybe, I feel too angry, resentful and revengeful of recent events to feel comfortable being "pure yoga girl." Or, maybe, frankly, I'm too caught up in my own destructive self-medication to let loose in a soul-freeing way.

I don't think where I am is where I want to be long-term. But I also know I haven't fully assimilated the extent of the abuse inflicted on me over the past few years.

So maybe I need to forgive myself some indulgence. And. quite probably, I need to start preparing myself to whip my ass back into shape.

But for every season, turn turn...

Forever and ever Amen

I just finished watching @KevinSmith movie Red State. It was really thought provoking. At times it was like, "yeah, this is a Kevin Smith film" and other times you were like, "is this the house if 1000 corpses?" So, yeah, a fuckin good film

But it also led me to thinking. I was one of those "Youth Group" kids. I went to the retreats and the missions. Hell, I even marched on Washington to protest RoeVWade. (To be fair, even then I protested b/c I knew the unfairness of womens' ability to protect themselves and make choices on their own, but still...I was there.) Despite confessing I had concerns and doubts, I led youth group prayers, I swayed eagerly with moving hymns, I led prayers, I kneeled reverently at Church.

To this day, I don't think all of it is bunk. But I do think the demand of unquestioning/unflagging submission is dangerous. Loving thy neighbor = good Smotingthy neighbor = bad.

The Universe I've come to pray to might not have rules or a bible or a tome of behavior. But it sums a lot up in its tenet: "And if it harms none, do what thou wilt." But even more important to me is this, "Blessed be." So many things in this world enlighten us, surprise us, enjoy us, hurt us, concern us, bewilder us. Some resolve positively. Some negatively. But my Universe knows that we can learn from it too. There is no book that tells us What Is. There is only the guidance of ourselves and the energy that is creation.

So, yeah, it's OK I used to lead bible studies. And it's okay I used to fall into religious rank. Because it brought me to where I am. And to that I say, "Blessed Be."

Homework

Usually, my doctors and therapists give ME homework. Take this pill at this time. Meditate on this. Focus on that. Try cataloguing your feelings/meals/sleeping patterns. Blah blah blah.

But when I met with Amazing Therapist today, the tables were turned.

Months ago, she'd reference a document I hadn't read. Recently, I'd asked her for a copy of it, thinking it would offer helpful guidance.

Today, she gleefully announced, "I found it!" Apparently my request was impetus for her to search through her files to find said document.

We didn't have time to discuss it. Time was spent with other stuff.

But this afternoon, sitting on the seawall at Plum Island with a much-anticipated sun on my back, I was happy and pleased and relieved and grateful and appreciative that Amazing Therapist had gone through that trouble. The reading was worth waiting for.

It offered me words of healing I needed. And gave me ideas for future strength.

It was nice to give my therapist homework, for once. Instead of the other way around. And to have it pay off so fruitfully.

I am blessed to have so many amazing tools in my toolbox. Thank you UNIVERSE.

And, hopefully tomorrow, when I wake up, meditate, take my prescripted 3k milligrams of fish oil and eat my breakfast off a wholewheat bagel,well... Maybe I'll feel a bit better a bout some of the other stuff in my life.

It's been a hella summer/month/week/days. But I still have those tools in my toolbox...

At What Point Safety?

I asked - no,to be fair, demanded - my roommate leave by the fifteenth of the month. Now, I will be the first to admit, I have not always been the ideal roommate. I've been bothered by his laissez-faire approach to life. Friends, relatives, et al have "helped him out" while he job searched somewhat less than ... tenaciously. And I've let that bother me. Publicly at times. When I should not have, I admit. One, his work is not my work. I have enough personal work to not take on his failings. Two, relinquishing that, I should not have made my frustrations public.

I own my failints. I admit them and apologize for them.

Yet, I feel that my frustration was in some way justified. I got angry that he couldn't pay bills while he spent time on the beach or going out at night. Or publically admitted to being high quite frequently. I'm not going to claim I've always been "drug free" but I still managed to pay my bills on time.

When I asked him - okay, insisted - to leave by the 15th of the month, he got angry. More than angry. Other tenants were months behind on rent so why was I making a big deal. I flaunted in his face the fact that I had part time jobs when I should stop playing "Mother Theresa." I blogged about him "slandering him."). (Yes, I blogged about him and I shouldn't have. But slander is only slander if it isn't true.)

But here's what I am truly afraid of: the ferocity in his eyes, in his face. He admitted not a week ago that he was off his meds because (and I quote so it's not slander) his sister was helping him get his meds but could no longer do so. And while he had other things to worry about, the first was to get his meds in order.

Today, he threw my diagnosis of bi-polar in my face. Who was I to judge, he insisted, when I had been diagnosed as "crazy." Despite the fact that I have been mindful and proactive about treating my condition. Whereas he can't get a prescription renewed (and again I quote, no slander intended) because "they want to charge me $65 for an evaluation."

So here he is, much larger than me, physically, and clearly off his meds. No, I have not been perfect. But I have ALWAYS owned up to my bad behavior.

But there's a difference between being a bad roommate and being a scary, threatening roommate. And I am going on record, here and now, and saying that I am scared of him. I stress every time I pull into our development and see his car there. I shake thinking I have to get into a confrontation with him. Because his eyes are scary. His mannerisms are scary. Yes, in truth, I am worried.

Friends want me to call the police But I have nothing to say. He hasn't hurt me physically. He's abused me verbally, but that's really hard to prove...

I guess the point of this is to verbalize the scary situation I'm in. Maybe people who have similar experiences will find solace. Maybe they'll contact me I can find solace. I don't know.

But I know that it's almost midnight, tomorrow is a day off and, in theory, I could sleep 'till whenever, but I feel like I need to be up and about. Just in case...

I have friends offering me a safe house. And thank the Universe for them. I pray I will never have to take them up on the offer. But "my tribe" has offered me refuge. I love my tribe.

For the Record

I'm not going to outline the various and sundry ways my current roommate has taken advantage of me and my generosity; has mentally and emotionally abused me and, defrauded me.

The truth is, he's done all those things. And more. I'm trying REALLY hard to keep this in perspective and know that it's his issue, not mine. But I still feel attacked ad antagonized. To the point where I developed a stomach ache thinking about coming home and what nastiness he had in store for me.

I've paid his portion of utility bills. I've forgiven late rent payment even when he was snarky about it (not to mention while I was putting down my beloved 16-year-old cat). I've extended job offers that wouldn't affect DUA collection and I've suggested job openings.

All of this is met with bitterness, rudeness and cruelty.

He's going to fight me on leaving the apartment. But my heart and soul know that I have been forgiving and he has been vengefu. And my hope is that truth will prevail...

The more things change...

Three years ago, I spent days and days and days building my way into my current home. I had no idea what I was getting into or who I was becoming. I brought a lot of stuff in, piece by piece. To finish the labor, I had a wonderful friend - Tomkolson - to help me with the last big bits of moveage.

As a stubborn, Type-A Leo, once everything was inside I was determined to start putting stuff away tout de suite. But since the day started around 5 a.m., the evening was destined to end early. And so it did.

With my newly installed cable TV, I searched out a special airing from a beloved comedian, Jim Norton. Despite hysterical laughter, I passed out from exhaustion early on.

Three years later, here's 'Lil Jimmy on my TV once again in the same special. Yet again, I'm in the space of reevaluating my situation and my desires...

Unlike three years ago, I have a much better understanding of who I am and what I want. I strive to commit to lovingkindness. But I am coming to realize I need to offer that to myself before I can offer it to others. I also don't want to be a (to borrow a 1950's phrase) a Patsy. So, the K who had learned to defend herself and her interests above those who take advantage is starting to emerge. I have been standing up for myself and my rights unequivacably while stil feeling empathy for those who want to capitalize on my generosity.

But generosity must have it's limits. And I've found those. It is time I need to stop accomodating others and looking out for my own rights.

It's uncomfortable, but it is an productive advance from the me of now and the me of three years ago.

Here I am with a distinct and obvious reminder of who I am and who I was and who I might want to be. It might not be a huge spiritual revelation, but it's enough for now.

In a roundbout way, thank you, Jim Norton.