Abudanza!

I revisited this blog this month because a woman that I admired sent me her early-twenties record of exploration and it charmed me. With this site, I too can charm myself whenever I want (or cringe, though always less than I expect to).

I was surprised/concerned to log on and see that over the last month or two this site has had the most traffic of its life. These are secrets! Kept in public! Don't anybody dare tell them! (kind of serious). 

I thought about sending her back this blog, but it has no artistic thesis like hers had and I decided that was a good enough excuse not to send it. Once I sent it to a friend and she said it was rude to invite someone to read work you hadn't edited. Well, I didn't write it to be "work" but I suppose it has become "a work" by virtue of scale if not scheme. I sometimes default to not sharing. I can always share later. 

We had coffee - this inspiring woman - and I. She seemed to offer me some things I wanted, but I was too shy to accept. I will try to deserve them before taking her up on them. 

I am being coy. She runs a community-building endeavor, and she sort of offered to let me host or create in its space and umbrella of existence. Instead, I set up a practice session at my house. A warm-up. She expressed interest in a weird couch based on my DOTU story... I'd love to make a rocking couch for her. I just need to find a couch, buy a little bit of wood for the rockers, and track down an angle grinder. 

What would it take for me to want to host something in her space? It lacks a level of coziness that my plans require - easily solved by a few couches, though they won't necessarily fit. I would bring tea and snacks. It is very doable. I want to already. I want to be her friend.

Should I move on to other topics? I might get laid before the new year. It's all up in the air. But it has been interesting. The woman mentioned about told me to go to Martuni's to make out with a friend. We didn't make out there, but we did more than that at his apartment later.

This potential sex drove me to tell my good friend about my persistent crush on him. Are you confused yet? Two different men - extremely different men. The Martuni's evening is actually the end of this story, for now. 

But before Martuni's, me and a man I might have sex with had a lovely afternoon walking through the park and having dinner. He bought dinner, then texted me to look at the beautiful moon, then our mutual friend implied he was interested... All of this prompted me to act on my long-standing crush on my best friend in the bay. I thought "maybe we (me and good friend) won't be single at the same time again for a long time." So I did it. Edith and others have encouraged me to tell him, and I've been telling them about it to get that encouragement. It finally worked.

Another reason I told him is that I had been "practicing" telling him by writing letters and then I decided again to "practice" and opened my notebook to find 3 pages of "practice" that got progressively less-hinged and I realized I did not need more "practice." The actual revelation was very simple. After a good meal at Happy Family Gourmet. In the car, in the dark, before I went back into my home, bringing up his "type" and our friendship, and then just saying "I have felt bad lately because I have a crush on you." Should I have said that I was telling him about the crush out of a sense of guilt? I did my best. 

His response was very kind and measured despite his being totally surprised, apparently. I told him to tell me that he didn't think about me that way and he refused - he said he had thought about it but that losing our friendship would be too horrible. I thought this would leave me still wanting him, but instead, it feels like a kind of generosity. I had been so sure that he wasn't attracted to me and that that would be the end of it. 

Instead, I have made him tell me that he truly values our friendship. I have been surprised so many times that it's the case. When I ask him why we get along, why we are friends, he says it's because I put the effort in - so you can see why I would be confused. But when he isn't stressed about work we do have a lovely time together. He likes driving out to nature, eating Chinese (or other) food, nerding out about language, talking about life, listening to music. He'd prefer to nerd out about using the piezoelectric effect to drive sound wavers to position lasers, but I cannot offer that. Talking to the inspiring woman, she asked why I had a crush on him. I listed his admirable qualities in a very unconvincing way until I stumbled upon a piece of the truth - that in the time I spend with him I feel fully present. That the simplest pleasures become my whole focus with him.

An exception that proves the rule - on Friday, we had fancy dim sum and I treated it like the last chance for him to change his mind about adding a romantic element to our relationship. Actually, I never verbalized what I wanted from him. Of course, there are many things I want from him and many things I would be happy with - what we have right now being one of them. But I never expressed that openness; I just told him that I had a crush on him and let him react. Was that a mistake?

We talked a bit more about it at lunch and when it became clear that there would be nothing between us that would lead to my getting laid before the new year (an arbitrary goal that has emerged just because there is a possibility of it) I texted this other guy while my good friend was in the bathroom to set up the Martuni's encounter. 

Shocking! Well. I was about to leave town for six days in the mountain compound. I had to act fast.

Six days is too long, by the way, of course. I knew that but I felt I owed my aunt all of the time I could offer with her, and then my cousins are coming down this evening. So today, now, as I write, is the only time I have unbuffered with my parents. And you know how I am electing to spend said time. Every time I overexpose with them I know I am reseting a clock of curiosity that is really struggling to tick already. Too much familiarity, too many little annoyances, and I am left with no desire to understand them or to be understood by them. 

Maybe through games or activities I could unblock it a bit. They are excessively industrious, taking on projects of various proportions around the place and attacking them rabidly. It makes me indolent. Their restlessness drives me to read and nap and stare at a red-tailed hawk circling the valley. 

Today it is incredibly stormy though. It started last night with blustering wind - now we are approaching howling, and the rain is driving. The bare branches of the trees are dancing. The ground is puddled. The south-facing windows battered with drops, the northerly ones dry. The house is in a cloud so thick you can see less than 100 feet - and at night it was even thicker. It was so strange to feel the wind whip my silk pants, but even though I could see the air, even though it was thick and lit by my flashlight, it didn't seem to move. Why didn't it swirl? How did all the droplets move invisibly at 10+ miles per hour?

So now mom is reading, I am typing, dad did some work and is now toodling about on laundry and other tasks. I have a bath bomb to use. More books to read. It's 10:30 in the morning. I must have other stories to tell. A part of me has wanted to work a bit during this time, and I have written some ideas down. I was so drained for the last three weeks though that I think a hard pause on work is needed. I am reading High Tension, about the formation of electric monopolies and rural cooperatives. It is giving me more ideas, and more excitement about being part of this century-long saga of electricity. 

Idleness is fatal only to the mediocre. I have decided to test that theory. Five days in and I am not dead.

In Mt. Pleasant

Eating a mushroom and cheese scone that a temporary housemate brought home. They could become a permanent housemate, if they want me. And if I want to stay on this coast.

I finally made a pros and cons list for moving away. So far the biggest pro is: no more allergies. The biggest con: DC is so damn bikeable - anywhere else will probably be worse.

K still hasn't texted me back. Maybe asking about thanksgiving was the wrong call. Eventually I'll ask if he doesn't want to be in touch. It was an intense little affair that we had. It was hard to keep it light and easy to think about falling in love. And yet, it was hard to imagine how we would go about it - across the continent, with our strange history, with our recent breakups. The answer is not to go about it at all - to both move on and grow in our ways, and then revisit the question. We both admitted to thinking very intense questions, like about kids - at least we were both carried away, but where are we now?

I bought a lot of stuff recently. One thing I bought is going to the wrong quadrant of town - a rookie mistake. Hoping that either UPS will fail to deliver it or when I bike over to knock on Tuesday they'll give it to me. 

My COVID test came back negative, so I am free to roam the house without an N95. I was already being very casual because I took so few risks lately, and I was nearly the only one home. Almost a week of my 4 week stay here is already over, and the house is still pretty empty. I'm not sure I'll really have time to get to know people. If I come back for 20 days in January, I maybe I can do better.

###

Forgot to hit publish. Now it's Monday morning and I need to work.

I called K last night, based on Edith's sage advice. We just chatted, and said it would be nice to talk on the phone sometimes to get to know each other better. He's been having some feelings about his breakup - it was a month more recent than mine, so no one should be surprised. Overall a nice conversation.

Edith says I should go ahead with the Creative Community.

Maybe a Google Form for interest and preferences is the first step.

 

In New Orleans

Shocked to discover I wrote on this blog in 2020 and 2021. They are lost years in a few ways; waiting to be rediscovered, perhaps.

I am more used to writing pen to paper these days, and I did try to spin up an alternative digital home a few weeks before SB and I broke up, but in the short interim between today's outing and this evening's I thought, for whatever reason, that this was the place to be.

I had a whirlwind of a day. As happens almost time, I was betrayed by a microdose. I dismounted from my bicycle after a peppy ride talking animatedly to myself in French and wondered - "oh dear, am I really sick?". I was dizzy and a little nauseous walking into Couturie Forest. My throat, which has had a little tickle since Thursday, was tight. 

I wandered in, and up to the "highest point in New Orleans" - a joke I think, because the levee by Lake Pontchartrain is higher per my recollection. Three 9-year-olds lead me up (I followed them) and when I caught up to the laggard he warned me that his friends were up ahead. As he did, the friend yelled "scream if you can see us" down to my interlocutor. 

The top was anticlimactic and I wandered on, seeing a striking growth of wood ear mushrooms. Then I happened upon a triad of unreal live oaks and their unreality reminded me of the little pill I'd taken an hour before.

I laughed to myself later that my condition was "an accident, I forgot." Is it funny? I laughed to myself a lot today. I found myself terribly good company. I told myself jokes only I would get.

Oh, another great moment from before I remembered about the drugs! I came across this bird blind that just faced a fence basically. A big wooden wall with four cutouts, and little benches behind each one. And I thought, "how silly," as I walked around it, past the sign about songbirds. Then I paused and realized I heard quite a bit of song and thought to myself, "well, it works!"

Is that funny if you're not tripping? Maybe someone heard all of the birdsong and thought "it's coming from the fence" and so decided to build the wall facing the fence.

In addition, just to the side of the bird blind was this cypress tree that was bent over in a graceful arc, so that its top brushed the ground but it wasn't broken at all. I thought of it as a very dramatic tree, keeling over in emotion. I took a picture. Would sober me have seen a fainting tree? Maybe.

It was a blessed day, with bathrooms appearing at ideal intervals, never getting too hungry, never feeling tired. Early on I had a moment of fear, recognizing that I wouldn't have chosen to do drugs so close the breakup and thinking for a moment about whether I would be sad about Shelly but I managed to get myself off of that track - I'm sure I saw something silly in the forest.

A few other silly moments to record here or with a pen, but I want to get to the restaurant early. 

Tear

Tear is one of the hardest words to hear. It comes with unpleasant sound and sensation - the sound of an long stream of rrrrrrs propelling towards a conclusive crx -- the feeling of tension releasing with pain. A tear is when strength fails, and when an irredeemable fragility is revealed. A tear cannot be repaired the way a break can. 

Tear is also not the easiest word to read. Should I pluralize? Is tear two words? Of course, you should know from context in the first sentence which one is being written, because tear is a beautiful word. Tears are overflowing emotion. Tears are the clear blood that flow from your body into the world, bringing your insides out. Tears are for goodbyes and reunions, for all the love and beauty you hold and release. 

And for pain. Nothing is all good, and nothing is all bad.

This idea won't translate well. It's not really an idea anyways. Just a coincidence.

(It's tearrifying!)

(This pun has torn through the seriousness of this writing. Ouch.)

More life in years.

This post is from January 1 of 2014. Now it's November of 2021. There are a couple more years to fill in.

2015 - Fall in love for the first time. Graduate from college. Take trains across China. Move to the Bay. Start my first job.

2016 - Grow into a post-college person. Sort of thrive in my work, sort of hate it. Navigate the continuation of my first love; on and off, almost falling in love with someone else, and finally moving in together in SF.

2017 - Quit my first job! Raft the Grand Canyon, make clay in Cuba. Move to Santa Cruz and do improv and run through the woods and along the coast. Fall in love for the second time, and slowly end my first long-term relationship. 

2018 - Move back to Oregon, then to Washington DC. Self-study energy policy. In some ways, the most free I've been. Job hunting is a major stressor.

2019 - Find my first energy jobs - a startup that implodes 6 weeks after I join and contract communications work at a trade association. 

2020 - A pandemic starts and I start a contract with a very influential energy policy person. I run through the cemetery, and play Age of Empires. In the Fall, I get a full time job with said influential energy person.

2021 - I work a lot. I finally go back to Oregon for a spell. The pandemic wears down my sense of self and time. I finally start working on regaining it now, through occasional therapy, reading, career coaching, friendship-building... 2021 is almost over, but I still think I will need to rewrite this in 5 years with some perspective. It is not a lost year, but it's about as close as I can imagine getting. My allergies destroy me for multiple months in the spring and fall. I can't let that happen again. I will move to the ocean if I have to.

"That would have been the advice to my younger self: be naive and open-minded."

This is a quote from an interview with Daniel Craig doing promos for his new Bond Movie.

I finished On Freedom this morning. Maggie Nelson writes about how exploring freedom meant facing down anxiety - that rang so true. I spend so much energy looking for what is essentially a system of constraints: my own value structure. The task that should follow, but that I instead have to do in parallel, is to build a meaningful life around it. This is to mitigate the otherwise boundless freedom that I feel I have, and the lack of purpose or connection that I feel if I exercise it.

Another feeling I had when reading it was how thrilling it is to think about big ideas, but how rarely I do it. I don't give my ideas their proper value; I worry about them being wrong; I worry that thinking them through will be unpleasant, when in fact it is the most thrilling thing that I can do with my life! 

I could have such beautiful ideas. My ideas could inspire other people. My ideas could create new systems and institutions. My ideas could be prescient, or off-base, and they would still have had value.

Yesterday at DnD, Grace asked what I did over the weekend. I drew a total blank. I had nothing to report. I couldn't picture a single moment from the weekend. A few minutes later I realized I had seen Dune with two of the other people at DnD! I had gone to a housewarming party! I had walked across town with Rennie talking about how we value and struggle with our long-term romantic partnerships. These were all really nice experiences, from deep interpersonal connection to excitement and awe to the sun on my skin and a drink in my hand. Even riding my bicycle to the party was a blessing. Getting dressed for the day was a pleasure (lately it is frustrating, because my boobs are so big and many of my clothes don't fit right anymore, but that day it was a pleasure!).

It's so frustrating that I had lost all memory of that in a matter of 4 days! The good things! Gone!

My job is so draining these days. I start the day stuck in my bed, feeling that if I leave it (even if I have two hours before I would start work!) then the obligations begin. 

I end work with nothing left in my tank; I lay on the couch and watch TV or Age of Empires (or I play Age of Empires, which does give me a feeling of having creative energy without having to tap any internal reserve.)

I find myself frequently thinking that I should delete Instagram and Twitter, but they are the main way that I procrastinate on work, so how can I do that?! If I go out for a walk for 15 minutes I feel so much better than spending 15 minutes on Instagram. 

Welp, I just deleted Instagram and Twitter from my phone, so that should help. At the very least, if I want to waste time on my phone, I'll have to practice Chinese on Duolingo. Or I'll go on LinkedIn or Facebook but I don't waste that much time on either - I think we can live with those.

I really need to use this blog more. 1) I can try out my big ideas 2) I can remember what the fuck I did two days ago 3) it scratches a vague self-actualization itch, probably by doing 1 and 2. Maybe there are just two reasons.

So strange to start this writing-and-thinking moment saying "I'm so free" and end it by saying "I am a slave to social media and work!"

But, like working on freedom invites anxiety, to be anything is to be sensitive to its opposite, I think. We simply deal in contradictions constantly. Life is discovering new contradictions to inhabit.

"struggle against all that creates harmony by elimination"

 This line in a letter by Elena Ferrante reminded me of when I would paint new graffiti on a bathroom every night in college for a while.

I didn't even take pictures (and maybe the paintings weren't much to be proud of) but the fact that it would all be painted over later made that not-so-important. They just had to be good enough to form the first layer of another twenty years of art, if the school ever stopped painting over it.

People got a little frustrated with me - they said the fumes from the paint leaked into the student store; but of course it wasn't the fumes from my paint, it was the fumes from repainting.

Then some acquaintances went to to try to help and made a gross mess of the place - splattering paint everywhere, gumming up the grout, writing "redrum" across from the mirror. I lost my taste for the project.

Anyways, a good line by Ferrante, congratulating her publisher on 15 years of business.