New blog site

I've been thinking about switching to a new blog site for awhile now. Today, for some reason I actually did it.  I'll no longer be updating this blog.  Although I didn't think of this then, it's like a new beginning.  I started this blog shattered from the inside out.  I'm finishing this blog restored and happy.

I'm still undone.  I think that's the best way for me to live life: A skein unraveled for the world to see.  Each person taking a piece, telling a story and passing the rest along.  In the end, I'm connected through so many people.  I'm whole because of the people who hold me.

So please, continue to follow me on my journey, and persuade others to do the same.  It won't be the same without you.

sheisindeedundone.wordpress.com

With love,


me

Why do I do these things?

I have no desire to date the gentleman who just asked for my phone number. He's older than me by a lot and I'm not attracted to him. Then why did I give him my number? Why not? I don't have many friends. It's not like he proposed marriage... If he calls, we'll hangout. I'll let him take me out for a milkshake or ice cream. It's no big deal. I've got to start making friends somehow, right?

In the middle of the niigghht I go walking in my sle-eep.

I'm doing it again, and I have to stop.  I commit myself to the point of mania.  At my old job, in my old town, there were no other options. It was work or bust.   However, that mentality often left me scrambling for "me" time.  

Today, I volunteered to go into work and make some calls to students just to make sure they're coming.  If I don’t I'd just sit here on the floor of this apartment watching things on the internet. Or I'd go out into the world of Seattle and spend money that I shouldn't.  I figured getting exercise and connecting with people is a much better choice.

Saturday I drove out to the Olympic Peninsula in a school bus to drop off a trip.  We passed beautiful lakes, mountains, and hot springs.  It reminded me of the islands.  It was a 14-hour journey.  I wasn't told, but more likely than not, I forgot, that I was spending the night.  As a result, I spent the night alright -- shivering.  

Once every few hours I would create this odd porous cocoon of warmth.  I remember asking myself, "How did you sleep when you had away games in high school?"  Combining that eleven-year old knowledge with my WFR training I took off my shoes and put my feet in my waterproof Timbuk2. Whatever heat I created would bounce off the liner and warm my feet.  I then did the same with my legs by taking my Mountain Hardwear softshell zipping it around my thighs and calves and tied the sleeves in a knot so tight it might as well have been a tourniquet.  Then, my core the most important part to keep warm.  I zipped my Mountain Hardwear fleece to my chin, turned my North Face rain jacket around and zipped it backwards so my face was protected by the back of the hood.  I was comfortable, for the most part.  

As the moon rose, comfort sank. I hopped from the reclining driver's seat to one of the seats with, “the hump.”  I'd often roll over onto the hump, bump my head and startle myself awake.  At one point I went into the bathroom, and did jumping jacks to get my blood pumping.  Upon returning to the bus I realized I couldn't do it any more.  I had to start my 7-hour trip home.    

 Two hours in, I needed a nap. So, I pulled over in the infamous, and desolate Forks, WA for a snooze.  Not ignorant to the tales of vampires and werewolves I locked all doors said a prayer and kept my hand on the wooden stake I keep in my backpack.  The rest of journey was fine.  I was exhausted, but happy.  I’ve become an expert at crossing Lake Washington (?) on a ferry. 

I’m going to try and keep some of my time for myself during this week off.  I leave for my first trip out in the field in early July. Eight days backpacking on the Olympic Coast.

Yesterday I had a long conversation with a friend that made me laugh till I cried and that felt good.  I miss intimacy.  That cave where it usually sleeps might be my downfall.  I don’t want to create false bubbles of familiarity because it’s easy.  I don’t want to date someone just because they’re there. I can feel it happening. 

Sexless in Seattle

 

"Come, you spirits 

That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here, 
And fill me from the crown to the toe top-full 
Of direst cruelty."  -Lady Macbeth

I will never be cast as Lady Macbeth.  

Before I could utter a single word of my monologue the director and his minions would sniff out the  

biological alterations that occurred as a result of this day and say,  "thou aren't a woman... thou art a eunuch -- of sorts. Away you liar and never come again."

When Bob from B3 Bob's Bikes and Boards reassembled my bike  he did so  with the expertise that a novice such as myself, lacks. As a result,  the seat was lifted to it's rightful position: Really Freaking High.

I, and the more tender parts of me spent 11+ Seattle miles being assaulted by the cushionless Nishiki bike seat I inherited from the previous owners. Each bump, jolt, and near miss left my brain screaming, "MY  VAGINA!" but my lips played the role of prison guard and uttered nary a word. 

As soon as I left my apartment a light mist, which soon turned to a rapid drizzle greeted me on the morning of my virgin ride in this wonderful, yet incessantly moist, city. I set out toward the community center with a  enough trepidation to open up a fault line.  The ride was, well, interesting.  I'm not in shape enough to conquer this geography, but I will be. Well, I'm in ok shape, but not having the slightest clue where I was going didn't exactly help matters.  I rode for about 30 minutes arrived at what I thought was my destination, wiped the water from my glasses, and settled down to take a brief rest.  Then my boss said, "You know the training is at  XYZ facility, right?"  "Uh yeah, I just stopped to get directions." Dangit! Here's the thing when he said you have to do this to get there. I, apparently shut him out and imagined that he was sending me to the location with which I was most familiar. 

He was not.  

About 20 minutes, muddy calves, soaked shoes, and a sopping wet back later, I arrived at the place I thought I was supposed to be. It was, in fact, the wrong location.  They gave me instructions, offered me bus fare, and sent me on my way.  When I said that I had no clue how to put my bike on the front of the bus they called an avid biker within the company and he helped.  I made my way down some crazy hill, carried my bike down to the tunnel and waited.  When the bus came all of the directions I'd been given took a little nap and I stood stupidly staring at the contraption.  A very nice lady with a baguette sticking out of her bag helped me and then the bus was on it's way.  45 minutes later I got off the bus and arrived where I was supposed to be.  The training had already left.  Laughing I waited patiently for the group to return.  

In the past six hours conquered a few things:

-Riding my bike in Seattle

- Being outside in the rain in Seattle

-Riding my bike outside in the rain in Seattle

-Driving in Seattle

-Driving a minibus 

-Driving a minibus in Seattle

How is this my life?  Just when you think you've grown enough, more lessons are thrown your way.  Hopefully, my womanhood will peek out from its hiding spot and I'll become a lady once more. Til then, I'm just gonna keep asking for help, laugh till my face hurts, and hope for the best.

Sick

My homesickness is similar to the flank pain of renal failure.  Throbbing… walking through my back and abdomen when I’ve lain still just a moment too long.  I wonder if I would’ve grown up here if I’d be on the east coast feeling the same thing.  I love it out here and want to stay as long as it will have me, but I wish those that I loved were here too.  I missed McCai being born and that hurt.  I miss Zander calling me Yee-Hee and giving me goodnight hugs, kisses, and expressing his wishes for me to read him a book.  I even miss him tiring of my storytelling, shutting it promptly and asking his mommy to take over. 

I miss sleeping on a friend’s couch.  Not only because she carefully made the bed with borrowed sheets and a loaned pillow. But because she is no more than a room away and raises alarm when she hears me blow my nose in my distinctly violent way.

I miss driving home around dinnertime and stopping by a neighbor’s house to pee and raid their fridge.  I miss glasses of wine dipped in the familiarity of years.  I’m exhausted with the thought of “putting myself out there” like the possession of some Hollywood madam.  I want to sit solidly in the presence of love and know that its kiss is only inches from placement on my skin.

I don’t miss Hershey, or Pennsylvania. I miss my people. 

I miss

… understanding the vocabulary of a toddler I’ve known since before his birth

… Middleswarth barbecue chips and all the unhealthy wonderment

… longboarding on familiar roads that didn’t, in the least bit, resemble the death trap hills of now

… remembered breakfasts at The Pantry with a friend who is more like a mother

… a grey haired beast of a puppy who is more needy than any child I’ve ever known

… the accessibility of love

I love

… being so close to the natural world that I love

… the proximity of possibility

…  the possibility of tomorrow with my people of now

…  the sudden simplicity of my wardrobe

…  the passion which bubbles the surface of this city

… the views

… how I feel

… the intellect of Seattleites

… the conversation with coworkers in the tiny moments

… the crisp Seattle air that bites when I breathe

… being here

I want

… nothing more than to acknowledge the juxtaposition of emotions that have graced me with their presence.  I wouldn’t change where I am, or how I feel for a world of gold.

Sometimes the only cure for this sickness is being grateful that you have something to miss.   

A mistake

I'm tired.  Work was great.  I'm the only woman in a pool of men.  It's nice, but I can't figure out why.  We played frisbee for a bit in the park before we began, and frisbee is not my strength.  I was nervous and caught, but mostly dropped, the frisbee like a prissy 8th grade girl.  Finally, when we sat down and began a dialogue, my intelligence kicked in, and I was at home.   I was given room to speak from the heart and I'm usually good with words.  The longer we were together the more at ease I became.   

Today,  we're all going camping.  (How am I going to sleep in a tent with a bunch of dudes? ) I just hope my comfort from yesterday bleeds through today.  

It's just camping for one night.   Then I leave Monday for a 4 day skill building trip.  Friday to drive a group to the Olympic Coast in a minibus (I KNOW) and then return the same day.  I leave the next day for a 6 day backpacking trip.  

Somewhere in there I have to find the time to finish my Study plan for grad schoo, and prepare for the first semester.  Woo-Hoo Masters degree!

Seattle feels like I've made a mistake.  Like I've been living on the wrong coast for all these years and I've finally come home. 

Birth

I have at least three friends who are set to give birth today, or in the near future. No matter how scared I am about Seattle, it's so much smaller when compared to expelling a human being from your womb.

In the grand scheme of things, moving to Seattle is ice cream and raindrops.