Thursday, December 27, 2007

One Veggie Burger With Bacon Coming Right Up

Or perhaps we could call this entry "Sheer Madness" because that is what's happening.

What happens when Maaike has too much time to herself? Well, she actually accomplishes things. Amazing things she never really thought she could do.

I have been cooking--in a my-fire-alarm's-not- going-off kind of way. I found a recipe for nut burgers and made them. MMMM they are good! The recipe was rather large so if I make them again I'll have to cut it in half.

Now, I can't claim to be a vegetarian because every now and then I'll eat meat if someone else cooks it for me. But when I'm cooking for myself (or others) it's always vegetarian. I just HATE to touch raw meat. Actually, just ask any of my family or close friends to know how picky I am about "gunky" things touching my hands. (Like when Daniel was carving a pumpkin and I tried to hand him something but instead dropped it on the floor in sheer panic that the pumpkin guts on his hands might actually get on my hands. Yep. That's me.) I also managed to make a banana bread with chocolate chips in it! (I'm allergic to walnuts--go figure.)

Then, to continue my amazingness, for the first time in my entire life, I sewed a zipper into something. I was making pillow covers out of old t-shirts and thought that a zipper would allow me to wash them if I needed, and to change them when the whim hit. I sewed a total of three pillows each with a 16 inch zipper. I am amazing.

My newest zine "EnvironMENTAL Imp Pack: Certified Organic" is also completed. I've also caught up on correspondence, made several phone calls. Organized my CD's and DVD's and tomorrow I'll be finishing the last of the things on my To Do list that I made right before Christmas break started.

All I can say now is:

Friends, PLEASE COME BACK AND STOP THIS MADNESS!

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Help! Something's Wrong With Me! I Hate Wrapping Paper!

Ah yes, tis the season. Christmas music pumped through every speaker in every store. Snow on the ground.

My sister starts playing Christmas music in July. I love giving presents to my friends and family. And, I do love getting presents from them, too. I love the idea that someone was thinking of me when they were shopping or even, when they didn't have to be thinking of me and found something that they just knew I had to have. I find stuff like that all the time and think "Oh, my friend would LOVE this!"

But what it comes down to is that I really don't like Christmas. I was in the store the other day looking for wrapping paper. I walked to the Christmas section with trepidation and located the wrapping paper. I looked for a bit and had to bolt. I just HAD to get out of there. I hate it! The paper was either too cute, too themed (to something that of course someone is making lots of money off of), or too expensive. I couldn't buy any paper. I just couldn't.

When I was little, Dad and I used to protest the buying of a Christmas tree. Neither of us liked the idea of killing a tree to put it in the living room and watch the needles slowly dry up and fall to the floor. Neither of us saw the purpose of decorating the house and the trees with lights. We didn't mind Christmas stocking or presents and we both love to give gifts. We just hate all the fuss.

Now EVERY holiday has to be celebrated by excessive spending and decorating. I just can't do it. I have my little nativity scene sitting on my shelf year round. I don't mind holidays, I really don't. My favorites are the non-governmental ones, though. Like Arbor Day and my birthday. But the commercialism and the unnecessary "stuff" that has to go with the new holidays is just out of control.

Holidays don't exist anymore. They've been replaced by blatant commercialism in a "gimmie-centric" world.

Monday, December 10, 2007

I Guess It Helps To Look Pretty

The Juniper #9 is out! Daniel's zine about the importance of guerrilla gardening is a rant worth reading!

He says, "I believe in small, independent, sustainable, local, organic farming because it makes more sense to me. But also because it is one big step in a series of large steps that I feel we need to take in order to free ourselves from our power-hungry addictions & habitual over-consumption."

And he's a guy who lives what he says...works for an organic farm, has his own small garden and lives a simple life. If you're tired of listening to people who have "good ideas" but don't live the life, then give The Juniper a try and find hope in those that practice what they preach. The cost is one stamp! To order:

Dan Murphy
PO BOX 3154
Moscow, ID 83843
USA

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Giant Bucket of Cookies

Arlene Miller heard me telling Emily Holzmer about how busy my week was going to be this week. When I walked past her, Arlene grabbed my hand and said, "This sounds like a really stressful week for you. What can I do to help?" She's so sweet! She reminds me of my Mom actually. I said, "You know what I really want: a chocolate chip cookie." She said that she'd be happy to make me cookies, wrote down my address and promised to be at my house on Tuesday evening.

She did come. Tuesday there was a knock at the door that sent JJ (the Rat Terrier I'm babysitting) into a frenzy! I invited her in and she handed me a coffee can FULL of chocolate chip cookies! Oh man. I'm in heaven. We visited for a moment and then she was off. What a wonderful woman she is.

Yes, this week is at the half way mark. I'm still insanely swamped by things that I have to do, I'm in need of some serious hugging, and a shoulder massage, but as far as chocolate chip cookies go...I'm hooked up!

Too bad I don't know anyone to share them with... :D

Saturday, November 24, 2007

Aw CRAP! I have HOPE again!

Okay, so. I was happy. Completely without hope and figured that love is just a lie like Santa Claus, diet pop, and Republicans caring about the environment. It was a state of...well, a state of something. And I was enjoying it. Talking more and more to myself about giving up on love completely (and specifically) when POW! I got hit in the face with hope.

Here's what happened:

A couple of weeks ago on Criminal Minds, Penelope Garcia met a "hottie" who shot her at the end of the episode. Isn't that just like life, I thought, a chubby girl meets a hottie who asks her out on a date and just when you think it's all good, he shoots her through the heart. I was really angry about it. Ask my friend Daniel who got an earful of "why this was really stupid." Anyway, continuing. This week the show featured Nicholas Brendan as a tech-nerd who was asked to come in and help out. He fell in love with Garcia just from her computer skills. He was a classic nerd in all senses...and totally drew me in because, hang it all, I love nerds. I just do. Quand-meme, at the end of the show he meets Garcia and she says, "Do you believe everything happens for a reason?" And right then I said to my Mom (the poor woman had to watch the show with me telling her all about how mad I was and how cool it was that Nicholas Brendan was on the show) "I hope they bring him back because it'd be great to have a love interest for Garcia. She's one of my heroes."

Then SMACK right in my face I realized that I had hope again. Hope that things DO happen for a reason. Hope that the next one will be even more perfect for me than this one (although that'd be pretty damn miraculous in and of itself) because I'm blinded by the "hottie" who shot me in the heart that I'm not quite ready to see the beautiful nerd waiting around the corner.

Damn you, Criminal Minds! Why did you have to give me hope!

Friday, November 09, 2007

Quick! Think of a Lie!... Do You Want Bagels for Breakfast?

Today was my birthday. It was AWESOME! Mom sang Happy Birthday to me, so did Kylie and Ted...and my sister. And others, too. I woke up to birthday greetings in my email box from David A., Jolene, Eric, and Aleksander. Later on I received email greetings from Serena, Al, Ryan, Jana, and Daniel M. I got a card from Brian and Michelle. Phone calls from Christina, Erin, and Chris. While working at the WomensWorks Art booth Ginger, Missy and Sally all wished me a happy birthday, followed also by Emily and Cindy! (Sally also wished me Happy Birthday every time she ran into me that day!)

Kylie sat with me at the booth for the beginning of the day. (She gave me a handmade bag with monkeys on it...and a Pirate Monkey!) Daniel M. sat with me at the end of the day. (He gave me a Sock Monkey comic and a Woodsy Owl t-shirt!) Emily and Cindy came to take over the booth for me so that Kylie, Teddy , Daniel and I could go out to Chinese food--where we all got lame fortune cookies.

We went back to my house and had some cake that Kylie made and I tried to think of a wish. But every time I try to think of a wish only two things go through my head, "I wish for love" and Dr. Suess's "I wish a fish." Instead I said, "May Fate be kind because she's going to do whatever she wants anyway."

Just after we'd finished our cake, Amanda, Kimberly and Ryan stopped by with cookies! OLE!

I also had about 13 birthday wishes on Facebook to reply to. So, all in all, I'd say it was a highly successful birthday!

Thank you everyone (especially Kylie and Daniel) for making this a GREAT day for me! I love you all!!

Thursday, November 01, 2007

Envelope Eleven Taped to a Box

Today in the mail I got a box! Taped to the front of it was Envelope Eleven from David A. in France. (That gives me a 61% return rate!--and yes, I know it's a skewed statistic, but I failed statistics or didn't take it or something like that.)

He made me miss France, though. And he did look for Pschitt but couldn't find it. I think it's a south of France thing.

Anyway, he also included Birthday Wishes which were my first official birthday wishes of this current birthday season. (Yes, birthday season).

And of course speaking of my birthday I thought I'd include here a little conversation I had over email (remember, these were sent one at a time over email--because I'm weird and so is Eric apparently):

Maaike: It's November, everyone! The countdown to my birthday has begun in double-time now! I still don't have a boyfriend, which is what I really wanted for my birthday, someone to spoil me, you know. Nevertheless (I love the opportunity to type that word) my birthday is COMING SOON!! November 9th is just 8 days away! Hooray! It's November!!

Eric: Just so I understand what I'm reading...this is a shameless plug for presents...right?

Maaike: Actually, it was a search for "who's going to fill the boyfriend slot before it's too late." But presents are good.

Eric: If I need to have a girlfriend before my birthday in December, I am going to be in big trouble.

Maaike: Focus, Eric. We're talking about me here.

Eric: Right... right. Sorry I got off track. I better find you a nice present to make up for my slip.

Yep. That's right. My birthday in 8 more days. There's still a chance I'll meet someone. But I'm not holding my breath!

Thanks for the box, David! And by the way, Mom says "Hi."

Monday, October 29, 2007

Envelope Ten--they haven't forgotten!

Envelope number 10 has found it's way to my grubby little hands!

Monika M. from Spain has sent me an envelope. Well, that's just too simple for Monika. Instead she came all the way from Spain to hand deliver her envelope to me here in Moscow, ID! Now, THAT'S a friend!

Okay, so maybe she was actually at a conference in Seattle and then made a little side trip to Moscow and just happened to bring the envelope and hand it to me. But still, it's an amazing story.

That brings me up to a 56%. It's not even a D yet.

I'm happy with the return. Although, I did have to have Daniel translate some of the Spanish for me. Vivan los pingüinos de queso! (or something like that).

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

Abby someone...Abby Normal

When brains were passed out in heaven I thought they said, "blame" and I knew it wasn't my fault so I didn't get in line. Then, someone told me it was "brain" and it was too late. I got stuck with this one. It's crazy. My brain. Not standing in line in heaven. That's actually well organized and rather pleasant.

My brain is crazy.

It's bogged down with depression and I can't make it stop. I'm on drugs for it. They're not helping right now. All I want to do is sleep--where the world doesn't exist or ask anything of me. I just want to stop existing--that's what sleep is; a socially acceptable way to stop existing.

I do have some people to talk to who understand how deeply depression can get a hold on me, though. For example, I've been talking a lot with my new friend Aleksander from Poland. We both enjoy the fact that there is someone who understands--profoundly understands!

In the meantime I fight and I don't know how to get out of bed because I don't care about anything. This morning when I woke up the first thought through my head was, "Dude, just give up." Now, the giving up part is sad, sure...but take into consideration that I called myself "dude". I think this is a strange manifestation of how I see myself. I am not a dude. Although, I think life would be easier if I were.

Now, I'm not going to "give up" although I'd like nothing more that to cease to be. (Don't Panic) I'm going to keep fighting. I've gone into my doctor. I've asked friends for support. I just need to talk about it. Get it out. And then go back to sleep.

When I try to talk to people about depression--those who do not understand it--they give me lame-ass advice like, "When I'm sad, I like to exercise." First of all depression is not the same as "sad". I know "sad". "Sad" is when Chase asked Bonnie to the dance instead of me. Depression for me is total and utter apathy. I don't care. I don't care if I fail my classes. I don't care if I lose my jobs. I don't care if someone comes and takes everything I own as long as I can stay in bed. I don't care if you miss me or need me or don't give a fart about what happens to me. I don't care.

And today. I don't care. I haven't cared for about 2 weeks now. I'm trying to reach out. I've sent an email to some friends. I've talked to my doctor. I'm trying to care. In the meantime, don't tell me how you "get happy" just let me know that you love me and that I matter in your life. Just because I don't care doesn't mean I don't need you to.

Depression is devastating. Those of you who don't have to fight with it are so lucky.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

My Own Indelible Smallness

No one will believe me. No matter how I say it. Why won’t they listen? Do I say it with too much humor? Too much nonchalance?

You believe me, though, right? You believe when I say: I am not as strong as you think I am. I’m not even as strong as I pretend to be. Everyone looks at me and sees innocence. So, maybe I’ve never done drugs or drank a drop of alcohol but does that make me innocent? I’m a Scorpio people; you know it’s not really there. I just know how to let you see only what I want you to see. Even if I’ve told you, I can make you forget. It’s part of my power. Power I don’t really want.

Everyone looks at me when I teach and they see exactly what I put up there for them to see. They see confidence in the topic and in my ability to be up there talking about it. There’s no way to explain it, really. It’s just years of practice. It’s not really there.

Stop thinking that I’m strong. Stop thinking that I can handle things. Stop thinking that I can carry on. Stop thinking that there are great things in my future. Stop thinking of me as someone who can handle what life gives to her. Stop thinking and rescue me from this façade! I am not strong. Nor do I want to be strong. I want everyone to see past the nearly six feet tallness of me and see how small I am inside! Innocence?! Yes, but it’s hidden behind the strength you all keep piling on top of me! I am not strong. I need help to survive! Why will no one recognize that! Why don’t I cry? Really have you ever asked yourself that? Why doesn’t Maaike cry? I’ll tell you why…you can choose to believe it or not, but it’s the truth as I see it. I don’t cry because NO ONE wants to comfort the “big” girl. I can carry four bags and a petite blonde can carry two and men will rush up to help her. Why? Oh, Maaike’s big enough, she can handle it. A big girl cries and someone hands her a tissue. A petite girl cries and men rush to hold her in their arms. Being always the tallest girl in my classes growing up I learned this. Over the years it has become more and more true—so why would I unlearn it. I doesn’t matter how much my heart breaks, all anyone can say is, “She’s a big girl. She can handle it.” Why should I bother with tears.

Sometimes I wish there were a reason to be as strong as people seem to think I am. A gun to my head and someone shouting at me, “What do you really believe!” Or “Who would you really die for?” Or maybe some type of apocalyptic event to make me prove myself. But this? This day to day stuff. This isn’t strength. This is a cover. This is me acting. Rest assured, 95% of the time when I say, “No, it’s okay…I’m fine.” Those are not the words my mind is screaming. Is it really always my fault that no one can hear?

That’s why I cannot do the scene I’ve been asked to do for acting class. It is a scene that would require me to LIVE OUT MY GREATEST FEAR IN FRONT OF A CLASS THAT IS THEN GOING TO CRITIQUE MY BELIEVABILITY.

This is not a scene asking me to become someone I’m not. This is a scene asking me to take down every carefully built wall around me and exposing all my weaknesses to strangers. Things I try not to even tell myself…or even my best friends! This scene is asking me to strip bare and walk into class knowing that every part of me is exposed to eyes that will see every flaw. Eyes I wouldn’t necessarily trust with the simplest part of me, let alone my greatest fear.

Let me play someone I am not. Then I will act. Let me be the strong woman who doesn’t need to be rescued. Let me be the gun-wielding psychopath. Let me be the mysterious stranger selling elixirs to the simple-minded peasants. But DO NOT ask me to be myself on stage, call me by another name, so that I can pretend that I am acting.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

An Incredibly Simple—Yet Totally Unobtainable—Dream


We were both sitting on the floor listening to something that neither of us was interested in. I was tired so I laid my head on his lap. He touched my hair, played with it for a moment, then lay down next to me and held me in his arms. He talked about the stupid activity going and the fact that it didn’t apply to either of us in any facet of our lives. He was right, of course.

The truth was he could have said anything at that moment and I would have agreed with him completely. My mind was thousands of miles away, dancing a little dance, singing a little song all about how he was finally—FINALLY—holding me in his arms. He has no idea how happy I am at this moment. It doesn’t show on my face. My mind is far away, but my body is there, feeling his warmth. Feeling his fingers as they move down my arm.

It could have stopped right there…as a moment that existed apart from everything. Time could have stopped and left me in his arms for eternity and there would be nothing that could make me happier. There is nothing—no thing—that can make me happy. I don’t need anything. There is no dream to me that is more that this: to be held in his arms and for him to want me there.

This is, of course, the moment when Sleeping Beauty becomes most apt, “…he takes me in his arms and then…and then…I wake up.”

Curse you, Reality.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Hi My Name Is

The very first play I ever had produced was in the 5th grade. It was called "The Monster at the Bus Stop" and featured me, Jeanette K., and Kurt C. I remember making my fifth grade class laugh, especially this kid named Reed. Anyway, I was hooked at that moment and knew that what I really wanted, was to make people laugh.

This is the cast that totally ROCKED my latest play called "Hi, My Name Is." (In the Photo back row: Matthew G. (Officer's Minion/Assistant Director), Me! (Gorilla Girl/Playwright), Ariana Z. (Afraid to Love), Jared H. (Selfish), Kate B. (Gave Up Hope), Kaleb J. (Pushes Others Away), Daniel M. (The Guy With The Pen). Front Row: Milo D. (most awesome musician!), Rose K, (Hannah) and John B. (Taz). Not pictured: David E-H (The Officer/Director)). I got the idea when I was listening to Milo Duke play some music at a local cafe. I thought, what if there was a play that had no words, just music and movements. I started working on it and eventually the characters started talking to each other.

When my professor asked me about the "worlds" that I create in my plays I told him, "All my bad guys are Republicans." It's a very simple summation, but it's the truth. In "Hi..." the world has been taken over by capitalism and people are no longer referred to by name. They are born, live, work, and die all in the same building, mingling only with the other occupants of that building. In a world of similar buildings. There is no fashion, there is no art, there is only work...and this one day in which Taz can ask Hannah about a possible "data merger" in hopes of forming a closer relationship.

The world is interrupted when a guitar player shows up in the middle of the lunch time meal. A girl with a wooden gorilla follows. Despite the fact that they leave the stage, the impact has already been made. Hannah wants to have her name back and reject her "worker's area designation" much to the chagrin of Taz who is desperately trying to ask her if she'd consider merging data with him.

Big Brother watches and waits for the slightest infractions...but once an impact has been made on someone, can it ever be erased?

Thank you everyone who was in the show. And a special thanks to EVERYONE who came to see it! Thanks for supporting art! Thanks for supporting me! I love you all very much!

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Today I Got A Letter From God

When I opened my mailbox today, I was hoping for
a package. Flannel sheets, to keep me nice and warm at night. Instead, I got a letter from God. Yes, it's true. It's not a usual occurrence so I thought I'd better share. I'm going to recreate it here so you can see what He has to say:

Dear Maaike,

I'm sorry it has been so long since my last letter to you. I have started this letter a hundred times but things kept coming up. First there was the fall of Communism, then the big AIDS epidemic thing, people starving in Africa, Reaganomics (don't even get me started), boy bands (had to put a quick end to that) and the Bush administrations (I don't know how they both got in there). Anyway, now that I have a minute I thought I would write to you before they raise the price of stamps again. (I haven't raised tithing since the creation of the world, but the United States Government can't keep stamps at a reasonable price.)

I just wanted to write and see how you were doing. I've enjoyed watching you the past few years. I've seen all of your plays; that's some funny stuff. Honestly I haven't laughed so hard since your old brother created the duckbilled platypus. That was a HOOT! You remember, you were there. Oh, I guess you don't' remember, but you were there.

I love you lots and miss you very much. Keep writing those great plays, and maybe consider putting me in one of them. (But make sure they don't have some deadbeat play my role. I don't care what people say, Charlton Heston is NOT GOD. George Burns, maybe, but NOT Charlton Heston.)

Let me know if you need anything. Stamps are pricey, but I accept knee-mail (I always thought that was cheesy, too). I love you, and even if I don't write again for a while I'll be watching you - in a fatherly, non-creepy stalkerish way.

love you,

God

P.S. Sorry I didn't include a bunt cake with this letter. Maybe next time...

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Your Maaike Might Be Compromised!


Today someone who had never before talked to me correctly pronounced my name. It threw me for a loop! How does this guy know how to pronounce my name? So I asked him. “I had a friend by that name in elementary school.” Huh. It got me thinking that there may be a few of you out there with a Maaike somewhere in your past and I thought I’d set up this quiz for your safety—so you can be assured that your Maaike is the genuine article:

True or False:

  1. Maaike is allergic to walnuts. And onions. And most metal jewelry.
  2. Maaike pulled a wheeled-wooden gorilla on a string across the University of Idaho campus causing someone to think she was “slow.”
  3. Maaike will be driving 160 mile round trip to buy twenty Styrofoam heads from Value Village in Spokane.
  4. Maaike thinks French cut green beans are vegetables from the devil.
  5. Maaike once moved her mattress into the closet and sat there for 2 hours waiting to see if someone would notice she was missing. No one did.
  6. Maaike thought the song “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star” was about her.
  7. Maaike wants to be either a Princess or a Monkey when she grows up.
  8. Maaike once cut in line at a very busy store at Christmas time because she was pretending to have an English accent and the people thought it was cool and let her in line.
  9. Maaike recently looked up a teen web-site for information on "how to get over a crush."
  10. Maaike is a Scorpio born in the hours of Scorpio and a Rooster born in the hours of Rooster.

Fill in the Blank:

  1. Maaike’s Dad called her ________________ from a little Dutch song about a girl riding her bicycle.
  2. Maaike’s Dad also called her ______________ because of a card game she always wanted him to play with her.
  3. Maaike’s best friends on the UI campus are _____________, the DJ of The Vegetable Patch, and _____________ the Mom of ________________.
  4. When Maaike was little she was afraid of her brother’s stuffed toy Grover because his _______________ glowed at night.
  5. Maaike’s bike’s name is _______________________.
  6. Maaike’s car’s name is ________________.
  7. Maaike’s teddy bear’s name is ______________________. And he suffers from _____________________________________ disorder.
  8. Maaike is the sixth ________________ because of a Pink Panther movie her father loved.
  9. Maaike calls her Mom ______________.
  10. Maaike currently owns ____________ sets of fairy/goth wings.
Okay friends, how did you do? Is your Maaike the real one? Here's how you can tell: All the T/F answers are TRUE. If your Maaike answers False to any of these, then she's not the real one. The fill-in-the-blanks...now, either you know or you don't. If you're curious ask me. If it's the real Me you'll get the real answers. I hope none of you have been compromised. I'd hate to think I have a viral version of you!

Monday, October 01, 2007

What If You're The Last One?


Today in acting class we were assigned the Gentleman Caller scene in The Glass Menagerie. Fine. Good. It’s a very intriguing scene between a girl who desperately wants to be loved and a boy who desperately wants to be seen as someone’s hero. It’s a very beautiful scene. I have no problem with the scene itself.

The problem I have is with the kiss.

Yes, the characters—Jim and Laura—share a kiss. I don’t have a problem with kissing. And it’s not that I wouldn’t kiss any of the guys in class. They’re all wonderful actors and good friends. The problem is… The problem is, what if it’s the last kiss I receive ever in my life?

See, there was a relationship once with a man I now refer to as Voldemort. He kissed me and I didn’t want that memory to last with me, so my friend Daniel R. in England kissed me. That way, I could remember my last kiss as one from a friend who truly loves me. Everything about me. Enough so that he would kiss me so I could have a good memory.

Now I’m worried that this character kiss may be the last kiss I ever have. What if the last kiss I remember when I’m shuffling off this mortal coil is the kiss that was assigned to me in acting class? How can I look at myself as anything when the last kiss I get to remember is that someone had to be ASSIGNED to kiss me?

I don't want that to be my last kiss. And it is a MAJOR block to my being able to do this scene. Should I talk to my professor...would she understand the desperation I feel? Would she think it's nonsense? Would she say, like many of you are thinking, "oh, someone will kiss you someday! This won't be your last kiss!"

Then it starts to terrify me and it starts to seep into other aspects of my life. I wonder, "What if you're the last man I ever have a crush on?" I mean, I don't have much of a track record and as far as real crushes--ones in which I wasn’t compromising part of myself--before you, the last good one was 14 years ago. What if I don’t meet anyone again for 14 years? What if I never meet anyone and you're my last one?

I don't want my last kiss to be as Laura getting kissed by Jim. I don't want anyone to kiss me. Today I was partnered with inarguably the most handsome guy in the class (James). And the first thing I said to him, "Don't kiss me today."

"Why?"

"Because I woke up late and didn't brush my teeth."

That's a reasonable excuse.

Maybe now you can see why this is so hard for me to let go. I know it's doing me no good. But can't you see? I'm afraid it will NEVER HAPPEN AGAIN.

I Don't Want To Be A Superhero

Superheroes—no matter who they are—start out by not wanting their powers. It’s an enormous responsibility and if you think about it, it would be so much easier to stay home and watch Jeopardy! than to go out and save the world. When you have a Superhero who risks his or her life to save another, eventually society will demand more. “Why did you save so-and-so and not my brother?” “Where were you when the busload of nuns got hijacked?” “What do you mean you can’t be everywhere at once.” It would seem easier to deny your powers and just stay home.

Science Fiction author, David Brin said, “It is said that power corrupts, but actually it's more true that power attracts the corruptible. The sane are usually attracted by other things than power.” From this quote at least learn that I am sane. I don’t want power. I’ve never wanted it. In fact, I’ve always wanted to be quiet. Quiet? I know it confuses you. I’ve always wanted the loving husband, the kids who’d bring their friends over. The little house with the yard that everyone would hang out at. And I’d be quietly contented. I’d have a simple life with a love that I’d be certain of.

Despite the fact that I have never wanted nor sought power I still possess it. It seems that there is more to me than I would like to acknowledge. Power that keeps getting pointed out to me: "You are a great teacher." "You bring such happiness to those you contact." "You help others feel valued." I don't want power.

“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our Light, not our Darkness, that most frightens us.” –Marianne Williamson

Daniel M. said that people like me. I told him that I don’t know why. I told him that I didn’t believe him. I told him that no one really likes me, they just want something from me and once they get it they’ll go away, like everyone else does.

That’s not true. I push them away because I don’t want to acknowledge that I mean anything to anyone.

Daniel R. said, “Men are intimidated by beautiful women, and that is why you don’t get asked out on dates. You are beautiful and men are dumb.” I told him that I don’t get asked out on dates because I’m too tall. I told him it’s because I’m weird and too forward. I told him that God’s punishing me for some unknown thing I did or said.

That’s not true. I don’t date because men can see the power I have within me and either know that I have a greater destiny that to be someone’s arm candy or they are, as Daniel said, intimidated by that power.

I tell everyone “It doesn’t matter if I’m here or not. No one would notice if I’m gone.”

That’s not true, either. I happen to know that I have touched people’s lives. I’m not saying that as self-aggrandizement. If you know me, you know that I’m much better at self-deprecation.

I don’t want these powers. I don’t want to make a difference in someone’s life. I want to have my little house with my husband and my cookie sheets and my birdbath. I want to make beds in the mornings and do laundry on Saturdays. I want to get my family dressed up for a photo and decorate my Christmas tree with a skeleton on top instead of an angel. I want to live in the background and just make a difference to him and the kids. That’s what I want.

Why are Superheroes always lonely? Because they know—they KNOW—that they have to make a difference to someone other than themselves. They know they can’t save everyone but that they can save someone. They are lonely because they have to be.

Don’t trust me with these powers. I don’t want them. I don’t want to be a superhero. In fact, I’ll give away everything I have: my earthly possessions, my talents, and my superpowers, to spend my life with you, in that little house where together we own a pygmy goat. And maybe some chickens. And no one expects me to save a busload of nuns.

Friday, September 28, 2007

The God of Red Wellies

The assignment was to discover what I was the god of. All I could think of was Flatulus the God of Wind from Terry Pratchett or Jeff the God of Biscuits from Eddie Izzard. What am I the god of? Unrequited love? I had no idea. I tried seeding my dreams as I was supposed to do. But my dreams trailed off because of the new medication I’m on, I’m sure.

Today I discovered who I am.

I knew we were going to go into our studios when Sally said she brought her computer and speakers. I knew it was for the music that we use in class to help us get there. The music really helps me…gives me something that the noisy part of my brain can hook on to so that the quiet part of my brain can step forward.

Today was amazing. Amazing. I entered my studio after standing at the door for a while. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to enter because I’d been trying to all week on my own. (This week was terrible though, inside my head it was very dark…but this morning I woke up feeling so much better.) The door was open and I was going to close it, but I left it open just a bit—in case Love showed up again. There was something different in my studio. It was brighter. The air was more crisp and clean. I knew I was supposed to be there.

I went through the maze that always opens straight for me but would confuse anyone who tried to enter. I looked around. My studio is a circle shape. The grass was green and yellow, red, and orange leaves were all around…most still on the trees and some on the ground. I saw my swing-set and it’s two swings. I saw my bathtub on springs bouncing in the gentle breeze. I saw my shed where my tools and costumes are. I noticed that my vices cupboard was gone…but I thought to myself that I am so contented in my studio that my vices don’t mean a thing to me there.

We got the instructions to close our eyes and choose the costume we would be wearing. I closed my eyes and the clothes chose me. We were told to open our eyes and look at ourselves in the mirror. We were to really look. I saw my red wellies again. Red tights, wool skirt, cream-colored sweater, crazy colored scarf, chocolate brown cable knit mittens and a red hat. The only things that matched each other were the boots, tights and hat. Everything else was a mod-podge of color.

We were asked to look at ourselves and discover what we were the gods of. I looked in my mirror and I thought, “What? Am I the god of Red Wellies?”

“No,” said a soft voice, “You are the God of Fall.”

“I am? But I…” Then suddenly it all came into focus. Everything that has ever happened in my studio. The first day I entered from the spring-world outside into my fall-world inside. The freedom I felt there. The color of the sky. My ability to paint the leaves and the clouds with my paintbrush. Even the butterfly net that had too much power for me. Everything fell into place.

“I am the God of Fall?” I said, still doubting.

“Yes.”

“You trust me.”

“Yes.”

The instructions came: What can you do with your powers?

I smiled. Not because I had power, but because I was trusted with it. The Earth had given me power over Fall. I had my paintbrush in my hand but soon realized I didn’t need it. I made the frost appear and disappear. I made leaves turn to bright, brilliant colors and then I felt the wind.

“Let me fly.” And I went up into the air. I could see my studio from above. The maze of shrubs that keep everyone out. The green circle that is the center. The door that opens to let me in and the world of spring on the other side, and the space on all other sides that keeps my studio hidden from the rest of the world.

Our next instructions were: You find a message that you are invited to a party with all the other gods. You will find a door to enter and when you do, join the class as the god you are.

I found a blue door. I turned back to my studio. “Thank you, Earth, for trusting me. I’ll do a good job.” Then I opened the door and opened my eyes.

I stood tall. I felt beautiful. I saw so many other beautiful gods in the room with me. You should have seen their eyes! My friends! You should have seen their eyes!!

Today was amazing. I discovered who I am. Who I have always been. Who I always want to be. I am a beautiful woman of unimagined power.

Thursday, September 27, 2007

Wednesday, September 26, 2007

I Can Be Sad That A Mime Died

Kylie told me that if her name wasn't in the first two words of an entry in my blog she doesn't read them. Good thing I put her name first! Actually, I know she read them anyway.

I was talking to Kylie out in the hallway today while we ate our lunch. We were LAUGHING so much that the teacher had to close the door to the only classroom down that hall. I don't remember all that we laughed about because I didn't write it all down, but I have to say that laughing felt SO GOOD!

Yesterday was rough, crappy day. When I told her that this morning she said, "It's because you didn't see me."

"That's true," I said, "Because my happiness is in direct proportion to how much time I spend with you."

"I'm glad one of us can use big words," Kylie said, "'cuz mostly what I heard was, 'my happiness...blah, blah, blah...you. And I figured it just meant that you like me."

We were laughing so hard that Dr. Steckel said we were "out of control" which is ironic because this very afternoon Jeron also said, "you women are out of control". I suppose if I'm going to lose control there isn't any body I'd rather be with that Kylie.

Those Who Did Not Know Her...

$1.99 for a wooden gorilla on a string. That's what I paid at Good Will here in Moscow. He cracked me up. I couldn't leave him behind.

He's even managed to find himself written into one of my plays. On Tuesday I brought him to class with me. Because I wanted to show him to David who is directing the play. I pulled the gorilla down the hall for a bit. Mostly freaked out Audrey, which is fun to do.

When class was over, David challenged me to drag him across campus. So, I did it. It was fun. As I exited the Shoup (Theater Department) I was greeted by a girl with bright blue hair. She asked me what the gorilla was for and I said, "I can't have dogs in my apartment." I continued on.

Occasionally the gorilla would tip over because of pavement cracks and I'd set him upright. Eventually a couple of people even righted him for me.

As more and more people crossed my path I noticed a trend...either they'd smile ( a guy even said, "Right on!" to me! ) or they'd pretend as if they didn't even see me in the first place. There was a guy in a truck who did a fabulous double take! It was a RIOT!

Another guy started talking to me, asking if it was for a class or something. Then I saw Heather and Sally. Both of them smiled and continued on as if, "Oh, there's Maaike and her gorilla" and it was an everyday sort of thing. It cracked me up.

I was telling Sally's class about it today and MaKaela said that one of her friends saw me and didn't know whether or not she should laugh. She was concerned that I might be "slow".

All I can say at this juncture is a quote from STNG: Those who knew [her] loved [her]. Those who did not know [her] loved [her] from afar.

Finding A Balance

Last night as I lay trying to sleep, my brain in a new kind of swirl because of the medication I'm on, I started to think about what I really want from love. It's a constant theme in my life. It will never go away.

There were two boys, let's call them Skeeter and Skippy, who followed me around like puppy dogs. They'd do anything I'd say. No matter how ridiculous it was. This is not what I want from love. I do not want a man who jumps when I snap. I am not interested in a follower.

There were two other boys, let's call them Satan and Snidely, who wanted me to follow them. Walk a step behind even. However, I knew they were not superior to me, and they knew that I knew it and were afraid of my power. I am not interested in a tyrant.

There ARE two boys, let's call them Spencer and Stefan, who realize that we are equal. Neither one feels he is superior to me. Neither one feels he is less than me. We feel in balance. Now, unfortunately, neither of these two are in love with me, but they have taught me that what I want from love is someone to walk beside me.

Love, don't walk behind me, waiting for me to lead. I'm tired of being strong.
Love, don't walk before me, I will not follow all the paths you want to tread.
Love, walk beside me and we'll find a way to bring it all into balance.

Monday, September 24, 2007

The Search For Mr. Right Continues

As many of you are aware, my birthday is on November 9th. Many of you do not know that I will be 28 this year. Yes. 28. This is not where I planned to be on my 28th birthday, but, this is where I am.

So, this year, what I want, is an honest to goodness boyfriend birthday. You know, a phone call early in the morning, waking me up to a silly rendition of "Happy Birthday". He's planned the day...dinner, flowers, whatever. Just a day that he says, "I know how much you love your birthday so I've planned THIS!"

But the problem is that I don't have an honest to goodness boyfriend. There are 45 days until my birthday, so I thought I'd do some recruiting. Here are the things he MUST have:

Respect for me, Kindness, Gentleness, Intelligence, a Sense of Humor, and a variety of interests and talents.

Here are things he MUST NOT have:

any form of bigotry, a MAN-MAN sense of the world (caveman mentality perhaps), a mustache, and a fear of strong women (i.e. ME). He really shouldn't be a Republican because I've had too many clashes with them. We do not think at all alike.

I don't care about body type. I really don't. He should have dark hair (blonds need not apply) and I prefer with glasses...because I love how sexy men are with glasses on.

Now, don't worry. My birthday will be celebrated nonetheless, boyfriend or no, because I have Daniel--my friend-that's-a-boy--who has agreed to do my birthday for me. And he'll have Kylie's help of course. But, as it stands, you all still have 45 days.

I Can't See Why


I will be so glad
If you could tell me why I don't fit in

'Cause in my dreams
I wonder why you can't accept my kind of love

I have to ask you
If you ever will regret
Your sad behavior

Just tell me once again
If you have dreams of me becoming you

I can't see why
You can't be here

I will be so glad
If you could tell me why I don't fit in

'Cause in my dreams
I wonder why you can't accept my kind of love

I have to ask you
If you have a real regret
You're sad behavior

Just tell me once again
If you have dreams of me becoming you

I can't see why
You can't be here

Salt On My Plate & Stars On My Toes


You know when you've been a friend with someone, a really good friend, and you start thinking the same things and knowing the same jokes and all those shared experiences? Well, that's me and my friend Kylie.

For example:

Kylie and I were IMing during a game of literati as we often do. She said, "Weren't you going to come over today?" and I said, "Do you have fingernail polish remover?" and she answered, "Do you have salt on your plate?" to which I said, "HA!"

As an outsider, these things make no sense. But to Kylie and I, they are complete worlds within themselves.

Here's the translation:

"Weren't you going to come over today?"
What time are you coming?

"Do you have fingernail polish remover?"
I'll come right away! Do I need to pick up some fingernail polish remover or did you manage to purchase some since our last conversation.

"Do you have salt on your plate?"
Are you assuming that if I have fingernail polish remover that I will paint your toenails for you?

"HA!"
Yes of course, because I know how much you love me.

Does that help. Maybe not. But when I got to Kylie's she pampered me to pieces! She did a hand massage, and she made my hair all poofy with a head massage, and, of course, she did paint my toenails. They're silver, with little stars glued on the big toes.

With a friend like Kylie around, it's always best to just put the salt on your plate and give her a smile!

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Idaho's Green Party in Envelope Eight!


Envelope Eight arrived today! Only thing in my box this morning so it was like god rays shining down through the clouds. You could almost hear a choir of angels singing the "glory" note. I don't know what that note is. I'm sure I could search it out on my piano...but I don't really care that much!

This envelope is from Daniel M. I LOVE how the envelopes are little glimpses into the lives of my friends! It's perfect, actually. It's a look at the things that this person thinks about. He gave me information about Idaho's Green Party, a pin for his Zine The Juniper, some other zine stuff, and some GREAT stickers!

My favorite thing, though, was this cartoon of a woman helping a man with a cowlick in his hair by leaning over and licking it down. Now THAT'S funny! (I also loved the Bobblehead page with the "hip shaker" in it!)

Thanks, Mouse! You did a GREAT job!

8 of 18...that's a 44.4 (infinity) %. A very good number for my friend Daniel, but not a high percentage as far as returns go. Still, hella fun, though. You should try it with some friends! If you don't have any...send one to me!

Friday, September 21, 2007

I Don't Need You


One of my favorite lines comes from Beckett's Waiting for Godot. I love this line because it sums up so much of what goes on inside my head when it comes to relationships. It's when Estragon shouts at Vladimir: Don't touch me! Don't question me! Don't speak to me! Stay with me!
Yesterday, in acting class I had a new partner for one exercise. It was my friend David Torres. Sweet as all get out, this kid. Really. What we had to do was stand about five feet apart, facing each other. And the only thing I could say was, "I don't need you." The original exercise is called "help me" and what a beautiful way to say that one needs help than in a contradictory way. That's what we as humans do, right. We "soldier on" when in fact we'd like nothing more than to be rescued. At least I do. Want to be rescued, that is. I'm not as strong as I pretend to be, I've just had years of practice so those who meet me now think I'm strong. If only someone would be brave enough to start knocking down some of these walls. But maybe the walls are too good. Maybe those looking at their stone and cement believe there is nothing they can do.

Anyway, back to the exercise.

I stood there staring at the beautiful face of David and I started to think about that giant empty space inside of me that wants to be filled up with love. You remember, when in my studio I wouldn't let love in...well, that space. I opened up that space. Laid it bare, spread myself and my fears open waiting for the ridicule, and the rejection, and then I looked at David and said, "I don't need you."

He took a step toward me. He closed the gap and I almost started crying (if I could cry, I would have). If only you could have felt the joy that came up in my heart to see him come toward me! He walked up to me and I hugged him. We hugged so tightly for the longest time!

This space I have, the one that wants to be filled, scares people when I open it up to them. I know, I've seen it happen over and over and over. Ive learned to use it as a defense mechanism. "Here, let me show you how much I need you. Oh, you don't want to be needed that much? That's fine, I knew you couldn't handle it in the first place. That's fine, go away. I knew you would." It doesn't make sense, but it's true. Maybe I've done this to you. Maybe you've done it to others.

"I don't need you." I said, but just like Estragon what I really meant was "Stay with me!"

Here I stand, in front of you, maybe less than five feet away. I open my heart to this bare, raw, space. I've taken down the walls so you don't have to. You see it, all of who I am. My fears, my hopes, my frailties, my strengths, my desires, my utter need to be loved. I lay all this out for you too see. What will you do when my voice says, "I don't need you"?

Wednesday, September 19, 2007

Envelope Update

I sent an envelope to David A. in France so the total is up to 18. I've had 7 returned to me. Here's who's still out: David A. (in France), David D. (Holland), Daniel M., Daniel R. (England), Eric, Amy, Jana, Erin, Monika (Spain), Will, and Mandy. Some I don't think will ever respond. Some might later when they're not busy. But no matter when they reply you can rest assured that you'll find out here!

More news at 11:00!

Monday, September 17, 2007

Hello Sheep!

On Saturday Daniel and I went to the Latah county fair. It was so much like going with my Daddy that I thought about him for a couple of days afterwards. Here's the story:

We went first through the flowers and plants. Then on to veggies and saw a gigantic squash that I'm glad isn't my responsibility. And a huge pumpkin that probably took a couple of people to move in the first place.

Then we went to see the bunnies! I love the bunnies! There was a HUGE bunny that Kylie told me to look for...at first I thought, well she must have been on crack (HA!) because I didn't see a big bunny. But Daniel did! This bunny was HUGE! I took a picture of it, but it didn't turn out because I'm not very good at taking photos. Sorry. There was this chocolate colored bunny that wanted to come home with me. I showed it to Daniel and he agreed, "His nose is really twitching! I think he does want to go home with you." But I had to leave the bunny there to go home with his actual owner.

Next we stopped in at the chickens. (When I told mom this she said, "Of course YOU had to see the chickens!" I grew up with chickens and I was always outside with them. It's amazing I didn't catch some kind of poultry disease!) I couldn't resist saying a classic Gir line from Invader Zim and leaned in to one banny hen and said, "Chicken! hehehehe! I'm gonna eat you!"

Next we went to see the sheep and pigs. There were these sheep with a sign that read, "We love to be scratched, especially under our chins. We don't like to have our horns touched." Daniel and I reached in and started scratching and this brown sheep ran up to Daniel and stuck out her chin! It was so cute! They really do like having their chins scratched. The pigs were loud and stinky.

And the cows were boring and stinky.

But not the goats! There were some pygmy goats--the kind my Daddy always wanted to get--and they were THE BEST! I love these little guys. Daniel said that he wanted to reach in and pick up the baby one...I was right there with him. It was hard to resist.

So we saw what we wanted to and I said "NO" to the $4.00 Elephant Ear even though I really love them. Because I was too cheap.

It was very much like going to the fair with my Daddy. Instead, it was my Daniel. I miss my Daddy very, very much. I told Daniel all kinds of stories about my Dad after the visit to the fair. Thanks for listening, Mouse! :D!

All that's left to say about the Latah county fair is another line by Gir: "*gasp!* It's got chicken legs!!"

Sunday, September 16, 2007

I Think I Figured It Out

This is a follow up to my post on the 14th.

I think I figured out what it means. I think.

The man who said he was Love was standing on the periphery and I was in my own space. First of all, he got in to my studio because I do want him there--I want Love there. I want to feel Love. I want to feel it until it overwhelms me and drowns me and I'll never come up for air.

anyway, he was standing at the edge because I wouldn't let him come further. I made that choice when I saw the "intruder" in my studio. I thought well, he might have gotten that far but he won't make it in any more.

I ignored him. I ignored Love. To the point that he finally had to speak to me to make me pay attention.

He spoke the truth. Total truth. Every word he said.

And I shouted at him and made him go away.

I want Love. But I'm so afraid of it.

I won't even take friend's love into my heart because I know, I KNOW, that they will move on and not even think about me again. Don't get me wrong, there are certain loves that I trust...My Daddy, My Mom, My family, My Kylie. But there are others that I just can't take in. No, that's not right...that's not True...there are others that I won't take in. Because I'm afraid.

It's sad. But I'm happy that my subconscious mind was willing to talk to my conscious.

Today I'm going back into my studio. I'm going to wait for Love to show up. And I'm going to see what happens when I invite him in.

Friday, September 14, 2007

Apparently I Love to Cheer

Kylie is a hoot. You know that? I'm so damn lucky to have her as my friend! Today after my "imagination" class I was zipping up my backpack and realized that there was a zipper pull on a zipper that had previously been naked. I looked at it. It read: I (heart) 2 Cheer. HA! I knew immediately that it was from Kylie. (She used to be a cheerleader and I LOVE to tease her about it. In fact, once we were talking about it and I told her that I prefer to imagine her--instead of being a cheerleader--as spending those years in juvie.)

Kylie, just in case i haven't said it lately: I Love You!

Now, this is totally unrelated in subject...but it was the class I was in when I noticed the zipper pull and it's an important story.

My meditation studio (the one inside my head)...you get to it by opening a door, walking through a maze of shrubs--English garden type maze--and into an open space with a swingset, a bathtub on springs, a shed and a cabinet. It's cool, but never cold. It's fall there--since fall is my favorite season. I was wearing a wool cap, gloves, scarf and sweater, a tweed skirt with red tights and some red wellies. I wish I had red wellies. Maybe I'll buy me some. Anyway, our first task was to find our tool. I got my fanbrush out from under the bathtub where I'd hidden it and discovered through the use of it that I could paint fall. It was BEAUTIFUL. I could paint the leaves, and the branches. I could paint me and I could make little snowflakes fall. I even painted the clouds.

Next we had to find a different tool. I found a butterfly net, but I knew something was wrong with it. It was too powerful. I tapped it on the ground and out came this power that changed the sky. It was AMAZING how the sky looked and I stood in awe staring at it for the longest time. The instructions were to use this new tool for more and more intense purposes. Instead I stared at it, frozen by its power and my "unworthiness" to use it.

Suddenly I realized I was not alone in my studio. There was a man watching me. I don't know how he got in...no one is supposed to get into my studio unless I invite them. He was in total shadow so he appeared only as a silhouette. This little dog ran up to me and I decided to ignore the man. But he stood there, watching me. Finally the power of the tool I had frightened me too much and I had to break it over my knee. It shattered into dust and was completely gone.

The next step was that we were to find a third tool, one that would come to us in a surprising way. I found a little rubber snake under a pile of fall leaves. It didn't feel like my tool, but I picked it up and wondered what it was for. How was I supposed to use this? Then the little dog took it from me and ran to where the man was standing.

"You're just pretending." He said to me. "This is not you."

"This is me." I insisted.

"You're not happy." He said.

"Yes, I am."

"No. There's something you want," he said. "You want Love."

"I know!" I shouted and then realized that the tool I was searching for was my own voice. My voice allowing me to say the things that I hide deep inside under my "I have to do this all by myself" ness.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I am Love." He said.

"Then LOVE!" the sound came out of me, from my toes, from my deepest spaces! I screamed! It was a primal scream that lasted from my first breath until my last. I screamed and screamed and screamed! The dog barked and the man...when I opened my eyes...was gone.

I don't know what this means about me. If you have any insight, whatever you think, I'd like to hear it. I don't know what this means. I'm terribly curious.

Sally and Jamie's class is amazing. I hope all of you get the chance to take it. The things I'm learning about me...even though they don't always make sense...are incredible.

Chris and Curtis Sleeping in the Yard

Thursday started with an exciting round of "Big Booty" in acting class. I'd never played it before but it was a RIOT and I still have the song echoing in my brain. I sucked at the game and lost very quickly every time, but I still had a blast.

Then it was design meeting where my design for the bed was well received. ole!

Then class...where I not only forgot to print out the script, but also sent Carlos the wrong version. Oy vey! It was not what one could classify as successful. The class lasted about a half hour longer than usual, but I eventually made it home!

I got to work on various things, random homework, random cleaning, random music and tv. All things moving toward the fact that I knew Chris and his friend would be showing up eventually.

Jeff stopped by. He'd been looking for his car, he couldn't remember where he parked it he just knew it was downtown somewhere. Remember, this is the guy that lost a pair of shoes he was currently wearing.

The phone rang. It was the sisters. Gave them a ride across town. Went back home. Waited.

Finally Chris and Curtis came. OLE! It was A BLAST to have some other 30-somethings around to talk politics and life with. AND Chris says that he'd like to produce a film for me. SO, I've got to start working on that!

We went to San Miguel's for Mexican and chatted. And then they slept in the yard of the Success By Six building. In the middle of downtown Moscow. Chris said the best part of it was the girl that almost stepped on them, said, "oh, excuse me" and just walked around them like it was totally normal that they'd be sleeping in the yard.

My favorite part of the entire thing however, was when at 2:30 am when Chris came in to use the facilities, it suddenly dawned on me that I'd completely forgotten to call Emily. What a dork I am. It took the fist few hours of sleep to erase everything enough for my brain to remember that I was supposed to call her.

ACK! My brain!

Wednesday, September 12, 2007

Being Beautiful...Being Vulnerable

On Sunday I dressed to the nines! I wore girly clothes and did my hair and make up paying special attention to all parts. I was gorgeous! But the feeling didn't last long. I got to church and was paid some nice compliments by other women.

Now, many of you know my issues with trusting the motives of other women, so other than Alrene Miller I had a hard time believing any of their words. No men said I looked pretty. Not even my closest friends.

I just doesn't work out for me to try to be more than I am.

Wait...there's more...

On Tuesday I dressed up again... more in line with the "real" me. I wore black leggings, a black, red and white skirt, my "Juniper" t-shirt from Daniel's zine and of course, my black Rocket Dog shoes. I felt beautiful again...but because I was me and not trying to be beautiful. Some people said I looked "cute" that's an easier compliment to take.

Anyway, in acting class, it was Delaney's turn to be blindfolded. The instructions were given, "How can you get to know your partner without using touch?" and the most amazing thing happened. I sat on the floor with my feet extended and crossed in front of me and my hands behind me to give me balance...and Delaney began moving around me... he smelled my hair. He leaned his ear near my chest to hear my heart beat and my lungs breathe. He moved all around me not touching me, but caressing me with his breath as he moved so close. So close. I knew I smelled like peaches because it was my first class of the day and my perfume hadn't had time to wear off.

Here's me sitting, wanting with all my heart to be loved. And there's Delaney who has his wife and his son. I thought for a moment to myself--this is the most beautiful I have ever felt.

Delaney was blindfolded. My beauty as the world sees it was not what was in focus that moment in class. It was ME. It was a connection on a level that involved all of the senses.

On Tuesday in sneakers and a t-shirt, I was beautiful.

Sunday, September 09, 2007

And Again...I Should Not Cook.

Okay...so again I had some milk that if it didn't get used it was going to have to down the drain. Last time this happened I asked Kylie if I could make instant mashed potatoes and put them in the freezer. This time I decided to just start cooking things that I knew could go in the freezer.

I went through the cupboard and pulled out whatever needed cooked with milk. Um...my cupboard. Right. So...mac n' cheese, some other pasta, and a cake.

I started cooking. I made a huge mess. I think I made something that I could maybe eat if I put enough pepper on it. Anyway, I've discovered again that I really should not cook.

I burnt the alfredo sauce. Then poured it on the mac n' cheese instead of the right noodles. So I didn't have enough alfredo so I had to add other things. Like a solid block of frozen peas.

The cake is fine.

If the saying "The way to a man's heart is through his stomach" then I am eternally screwed.

Eating Lunch With Someone Else's Fork

Many of you know that I should not cook. One of the people who knows this is Kylie. That's why she cooks for me. Today she made me some soup. And some cookies. That I may or may not share. It depends. On my mood.

On Friday she made me lunch and brought it up to the language lab so we could eat lunch together. She said, "You have to meet Joyce." I was confused but I followed her anyway. At that point I realized that what she had actually said was "You have to make a choice." I chose spaghetti. Then she asked, "Did you bring a fork?" and I said that I hadn't. She warmed it up in the microwave, brought it to me, gave me a nice piece of bread and handed me a fork.

It was delicious. We sat there talking while the microwave was cooking Kylie's lunch. We chatted about this and that. Louis Perraud walked past and laughed at us...he calls us the "coffee clutch" as we sit there during the week to eat our lunches.

Kylie got her lunch from the microwave and started eating some bread. More talking. More laughing. Then I got to the part where I was just using the bread to eat the last of my spaghetti when Kylie asked, "Are you done with the fork?" I said that I was and she said, "So I can use it now?"

It was at that moment when I realized that Kylie had not been eating her pasta because she was waiting for the one and only fork! She'd asked me to bring one and I'd spaced it so she let me eat lunch first because there was only ONE FORK!

I laughed and handed the fork to Kylie and she ate her lunch.

My friend Kylie is the BEST. I love her SO MUCH...and apparently, she loves me too.

Thanks, Kylie! Bock! Bock!

Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Envelopes from the Royal Court of Lady 8891…

I wasn’t going to write about receiving a second envelope from someone…but I just have to. Kylie and Sally have both filled a second envelope and sent it on to me. I love these women! They so totally kick ass!

Also, my friend David A., a loyal blog reader, has asked where HIS envelope is. So, I’m sending out one to him. That will bring the total to 18 envelopes. That means as far as returns go I’m not even at the 50% mark. BUT as far as the contents of the envelopes go…I’m QUEEN OF THE POST OFFICE! Or, as one of the postal workers calls me, “Lady 8891.”

I must admit, saving little things here and there, thinking of putting them into an envelope, and sending them to one of my friends fills me with a childlike glee.

Glee. Yes. Glee. I’m as giddy as me!

Woke Up With a Rainbow in my Bra

Normally when I go to bed, I take off my bra. Really, as all women know it's just more comfortable that way. But last night due to the sinus cold I'm struggling with, I simply went to bed. Clothes and all.

This morning when I was getting undressed from yesterday's clothes a piece of paper came flying out and landed in my bathroom sink. "What the...?" I thought to myself and then remembered, "oh yeah! My piece of rainbow!"

Here's the story...

In acting class we got to draw and write with crayons. We shared with our partner and then passed them around the room. Afterwards we honored the class by sharing the crayon creations. Kate, in her honoring, ripped little pieces of the drawing of a rainbow from the whole and gave us each a piece. In my total absence of pockets I put it in my bra. As I placed it here above my heart I thought of my Mom who was that day having a pace maker put in. My rainbow was resting in the spot where her pace maker would be. It brought me some comfort and I thought of her and waited all day to hear from my family as to how her surgery had gone.

My sister, Chris, called me at 3:30 to let me know that Mom's surgery had gone well but that they weren't going to let her go home until the next day. I said something to Chris and she said something out loud and I hear Mom in the background say, "oh, you guys!" I knew she was all right.

With that worry out of my mind, I forgot completely about the rainbow in my bra.

Wednesday, August 29, 2007

Envelope Seven!

Today I got envelope number 7 of 17. From Katie Whittier. She said her creativity had worn out, but she lies because the envelope was just as creative as anyone else's!

It's greatly interesting to see how much the contents of the envelopes reflect the personality of those who are filling them.

I was telling Kylie and Sally that I was trying to remember who all I sent them to but I can't really remember. There are some I remember, of course, because I am either eagerly awaiting the return of their envelope or else they have said to me "I'm working on filling that envelope". But there are still three I can not remember...it'll be a surprise to me if I get them back!

Dreaming About Toys

For my Psych 403 class we have to keep a dream journal. I'm excited about it because I LOVE my dreams. I have crazy dreams that could keep any type of psychologist busy for days.

Lately, I have discovered a theme: toys. I keep dreaming about toys. My stuffed animals, Russian nesting dolls, Legos, board games, etc. My dream world is filled with toys.

They don't just sit there though, I interact with them and they interact with me. We don't talk to each other but we just have a complete understanding of what it is the other is doing. When I was a little kid playing by myself my toys didn't talk out loud. They talked in my head. I guess they're still doing that.

In one dream I had to marry this angry man and I was asking for help. All my stuffed animals showed their solidarity by jumping off the shelves and falling to the ground in protest of what was going to happen to me.

In another a set of Russian nesting dolls was planning a secret strategy to rescue me from this forest in which I was lost.

In another--and by far my favorite--an army of 50 yellow Lego men dressed in brown rain gear were firemen and going to set free 13 goblins from an old wooden chest. The best part is that the leader of the Lego men was "naked" and none of his underlings would take him seriously until he got dressed.

In these dreams I was young. Five in one, ten or twelve in the others.

Is that why I'm dreaming of my toys? No. I think I've figured it out. I think I am one of God's youngest children. Maybe even the youngest. If only you could see inside my heart, you'd know what I mean.

I also think it's because in my real life...no one real ever rescues me. I always have to do it all by myself. Thank heavens for Eddie-Phil, Galoomph, NeeChee and all my other stuffed animals. At least I know I've got that army in my corner.

Monday, August 27, 2007

I Think I’d Rather Be Boiled Alive in a Vat of Wildebeest Urine.

Strange title you might think. You’d be right. Sort of.

Envelope 6 of 17 has arrived today from my friend Christina (Bobina-Yolanda-Hoop). It is brilliant! I have to admit that thinking of a title for this entry was rather difficult. She sent so many beautiful quotes (like the one in the title from Chef)! Here’s a sample:

But that was during the war when sushi was called “liberty lox”. Grandpa Simpson

Didn’t Jesus also say “Blessed are those who pull themselves up they their own bootstraps”? Stephen Colbert

If you really love him, you’ll rip his heart out in person. Drew Carey

You are not in charge of how big a wuss I am! Malcolm in the Middle

There are many, many more, but that’s a beautiful sample.

My favorite quote, however, is a Christina original. It was written on an origami figure she made for me: Supposed to be a monkey, looks like a sloth.

Thank you, Christina! You have made a very exciting envelope for me! I do have to ask, however, what was the option to being “boiled alive in a vat of wildebeest urine”?

Thursday, August 23, 2007

"Rain"

It's hard to listen to a hard hard heart
Beating close to mine
Pounding up against the stone and steel
Walls that I won't climb
Sometimes a hurt is so deep deep deep
You think that you're gonna drown
Sometimes all I can do is weep weep weep
With all this rain falling down

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Its hard to know when to give up the fight
The things you want will just never be right
Its never rained like it has tonight before
Now I don't wanna beg you baby
For something maybe you could never give
I'm not looking for the rest of your life
I just want another chance to live

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm holding on underneath this shroud
Rain

Strange how hard it rains now
Rows and rows of big dark clouds
When I'm still alive underneath this shroud
Rain Rain Rain