Sunday, May 30, 2010

Sunday Night

The only good thing about going to work at 1030 Sunday Morning is that I get to come home and make my favorite salad.

One Cucumber cut in triangles
One Red Pepper "diced"
Two Tomatoes “diced”
One large Avocado “diced”
One Can Black Beans
Two cloves Garlic minced
And some Balsamic Vinegar to taste
(If you’re a salt person you can add that too; I don’t)

Saturday, May 29, 2010

Because it IS

I’m not sure if this is what she meant or not but it triggered something inside me. She said Looking at the Sky on Friday. As if every Friday she went out and took a picture of the sky. The sky is something I’ve taken for granted. Every now and then I take a picture of it, when the sun sets, or it mirrors the ocean; or it just happens to be there. But what happens if we just set a day aside to look at something we take for granted.

When we take a picture of something or someone, we see it, realize its presence, make it real, make it last. We don’t take it for granted. I write in my journal every day to gage how to focus my day, tell myself I’m here. What about the beauty of the earth and friends around me, realize how much an amazing part of my life they are.

So today I took a picture of the sky… because it IS.


So I haven't figured out how to post a video without embedding it in the words. So here's Elizabeth Gilbert giving a talk on being an artist, writing and surviving.

Friday, May 28, 2010

I Want To

Time to take stock of the spring. It’s been good so far. I feel like I’ve done more, and participated more this spring than I did all summer last year. Well, I was pretty busy for my vacation last year, but the summer last year was full of rainy days and I still hadn’t cleaned up my diet and I was often tired and didn’t want to do much but sit on the couch. I feel present this year and not following people, but making my own decisions based on the fact that I feel good and want to do things.

This month I’ve “judged” a talent show, participated in a bake sale, gone on two photo trips around B’town, and although it is a small town, there are still a few other streets I can go down. I’ve written a few short pieces that, however timidly, I’ve shared. I’ve started taking pictures again and I’ve taken an interest in other peoples poetry and started scratching at my own, gone out to movies, gone dancing with friends, started to read plays again (ok it was one, but I’m interested again) and was there to help the new hires ease into their new job.

I’m still walking carefully.

One thing I’ve noticed in the last little while has been an attitude change. Last year I would go on photo trips with the photo club and go on adventures, but last year I would think: “I need to do this, so I’m not trapped in the house, so I get out and see the world, maybe this is what will make me feel better.” This year I’ve noticed I’ve wanted to do it. “I’m going to see this movie with my friends, because I want to, I want to judge the talent show, I want to get out and take pictures today.”No one, not even myself is making me do it. It’s been very nice.

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Program

Quick update, since writing "Forgotten" I’ve had two really good mornings. Not productive, I’m a little spacey, (what’s new?|) but I’m awake and not hiding from life.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010


Usually I don't like when people seem down in their writing, when reading their words sucks you down with them. I want to tell them there is more to life than this, and I'm afraid that people will feel the same way when I add this to my blog, but maybe in writing it I will set it free, maybe someone else will read it and not feel as alone as I do.

When I hear that not everyone has a good day, every day, I feel like I’m not alone. So with great trepidation I'll write about my mornings.

I am often sad in the mornings. I’m sad that every second day I need to go out and run when I would just rather be in my pajamas at the computer. I’m sad that I’m so exposed to the world, that people can see me as I run.

I get so sad that I don’t even play at the computer I just try to hide on the couch.

I get sad that when I do get off the couch, I usually get interested in a piece of poetry, mine or someone else’s, just before I have to go to work and then I need to leave it behind.

My mind doesn’t focus on all the fun things that will happen during the day; that my friends will come up with funny jokes and stories during the day. I forget if I do try, I’ll learn something new or feel something new, even if I am all alone in my apartment.

I forget that if I just try, things get done in the morning. If I just put on a movie for 10 minutes, or watch the news, I start to feel motivated. I forget that if I get out my journal, or a piece of writing, my world isn’t so sad. That when I put on my running cloths and go around the block my body wakes up.

I forget that if I just sleep on the couch for an hour, or take forever to get out of bed, I feel bad for wasting all that time.

I forget that because of depression my body isn’t telling me the truth. It isn’t tied or lost or alone. The world isn’t as dark and hopeless as it seems. Hiding for an extra five minutes isn’t going to make any answers any clearer.

So today I didn’t run, but I sat with the sadness, and exposed it for what it is; a fraud. And maybe that’s what I need to do for a while, sit with the sadness and expose it. And Beat It.

(Don’t worry unless there’s a major breakthrough I won’t bore you with sadness talk. Life is too short.)

Monday, May 24, 2010

Roasted Mediterranean Veggies

Pat Crocker, The Vegan Cooks Bible.

Preheat Oven to 375 f

2 Zucchini trimmed and chopped into 1 inch pieces
2 large tomatoes chopped into triangles
1 onion quartered or in 6ths
1 eggplant chopped into 1 inch pieces
1 red bell pepper chopped
2 cloves garlic
1 can chickpeas (salted ones taste way better)
2 large potatoes diced
¼ cup wheat free tamari
2-3 tablespoons toasted sesame oil
juice from 1 lemon

Wisk all the wet ingredients together in a little bowl.
Mix all other ingredients into a roast pan and drizzle wet stuff over top.
I bake it for over an hour (tonight it's taking over and hour and a half... very old stove)
I check on it and stir it every 20 min.

I’ve held back on putting recipes on this site because I was just going to put my own. Alas, I haven’t been as creative as I thought I might be. As I was blog hopping I realized it’s such a great resource for us to be able to share our favorites. This is my version of this recipe and I love making it. The apartment smells so good when I’m cutting the veggies and as their juices heat and mix in the stove. I started using toasted sesame seed oil this year and love it.

Sunday, May 23, 2010


I did it! I survived the work bake sale. I even participated. I made gluten free brownies that a few of my friends have already given a pass to. We had them labeled as gluten free for a while, but people were scared of them and out of the 500 people I work with no one came up and said “wow, gluten free that’s great, I get to have something at the bake sale as well.” It was more like “gluten? I like my gluten.”

Actually, someone did get excited over them; I did. I got to make treats while everyone else I worked with made treats too, we sent each other messages while we did it, and I got to show up with my little babies the next day. And we talked all day about food. Other than the fact that I had one and was on a sugar high all day, I was also feeling good because I wasn’t an outsider. I got to play too, and that was very important to me. And there were only two brownies left over at the end of the day. Dessert.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

Where’s My Wyoming?

“In my ride across America [in a Vespa from San Francisco to New York] I took a sweeping path through Wyoming and fell in love at first sight, love at the very border. I felt magnetized to the land, to the red dirt and the Bighorn Mountains and the wide openness I had no idea still existed in the country.”
I longed to stay in Wyoming and was tormented at the thought of leaving it behind.”
Shreve Stockton, The Daily Coyote

I can’t begin to explain how I felt reading her paragraphs about finding home, except to say that I had the same kind of crush on her finding her place in the world she loved, as reading about Robbie Turner in Atonement… Can you have a crush on a feeling? Or is it more of a longing? Although I’m not far into the book, I have already learned from it.

In the last year of my teens and first part of my twenties the world revolved around theatre and film at a university level, studying it, seeing it, reading about it. In my mid twenties, my life turned into a search to beat the illness that had a grip on me, that was preventing me from doing theatre and film though I tried, I tried really hard to make it all work. Now I want my search to be about finding the place where I belong. I’ve thought a lot about moving back to the city and wondered if it will mean getting sick all over again. Although I’ve gotten healthy in B’town, I don’t feel like I’ve found “my place” and I wonder what step to take next.

Also, I often wonder if the nearest city is right for me (it’ll will be a stepping stone, but there are other cities other towns in this world; is one of them a perfect fit for me?). Do I wait for the universe to guide me to those places or do I plan to move on with goals and destinations mapped out in detail?

I want to find a place where my body breathes as one with my surroundings. It’s always been my desire to live anywhere and find peace within myself no matter where I am. Maybe there is an external place that will help complete that search for inner peace.

This book made me think of my passions as well, as I found it in the pets and animal section; a shelf in the bookstore that I never look at despite my love of animals. Of course my passions are words and pictures, and reading as well. The House of Bernarda Alba has made me want to read plays again, but there is also pets, (I want two cats … Benson and Stabler) a house so I can put my money into something I own, a job that suits me better and a closer connection to the arts.

What else does my body long for that it doesn’t even know it’s missing?

Usually I try to write answers. I guess today is about asking questions...

Friday, May 21, 2010

Gift of Asking

There are a lot of life coaches who say “if you want something, write it down.” So I write in my journal everyday: of dreams, wants emotions, I write because it makes it real and I can look back at it and remember where I’ve been and how far I’ve come. This year, and I know it’s early, I was inspired to write a Christmas list and I started with a few books of poets I wanted. (I’ve started buying gifts for people, for Christmas, as well.)

And a few days later I was awarded a gift certificate worth $50 from a place of my choosing. I chose the bookstore and ordered two books that I had on my list. They are poetry books, so had to be ordered sight unseen. Now, they are in and there is great anticipation about whether I will like them or be disappointed. But what a gift the universe gave me when I asked.

Ashes, Ashes We All Fall Down

Just watched the movie “Little Ashes,” as recommended by my friend at work. I’m not a Robert Pattinson fan and this didn’t sway me. But I was interested in the story she kept explaining to me and she mentioned Federico Garcia Lorca and I said, “Look him up… we learned about him in university. But I couldn’t remember anything about him, except that I could practically hear the professor roll “Lorca” off his tongue.

I finished the movie and thought it was a pretty good movie and pulled out my Stages of Drama. There are notes all over the play “the house of bernarda alba” like I was into it and really wanted to have it explained and understood. But I don’t remember any of it. How can a person not remember anything about a writer who is said to have written “a play about a cockroach who becomes entranced by the enchanting world of a butterfly.” (I have that line underlined.)

The first line of the biography about Lorca in my text book says that he was executed by the fascists in the beginning of the Spanish civil war. That was an empty statement to me without seeing the movie. In watching the movie, I understand that Lorca was a person with passions and loves and beliefs and that was all taken away from him, because he spoke of a message that the fascists disagreed with.

So, I read the play “the house of bernarda alba”. I haven’t read a play in a long time. I was reminded of how much talking is needed in a play to convey the story. How plots and emotions are carried out in the colours of cloths, and surrounding set and the voices of people. At first I was distant to what was happening, remembering bits and pieces from university, I believe I was frustrated by the way they lived and vowed not to be so controlled in life, not to be in a place to die over the affections of a man. And I was moved today at Adela’s death. Saw the strength in the story telling and the neatness of the plot.

Sunday, May 16, 2010


I went out to take photos at 5:30am on Saturday. I left with a warm sweater, my funky hat and my camera. I loved the silence of the town at that hour and debated standing at the busy intersection and taking a picture of the stop lights just to prove it could be done. I didn’t. I headed for the park and took 132 pictures; once I returned home I erased over half and now have about 50.

The problem is that I haven’t taken pictures for over a year and even longer since I’ve had to manually fix the exposure. The little camera couldn’t autofocus with the light of the sunrise. In the past year, I’ve put all my effort on writing and not that much on taking pictures. After all, writing is what I want to be doing. So I need to get out the photo book again and brush up on f stops and stuff.

Of course, such an adventure means finding out a little bit about my soul. I like taking pictures of flowers, animals and water framed by trees. As I walked home I told myself that there are millions of pictures everywhere; but I can’t see them yet. I’m limited by what I allow myself to see and where I look. This no doubt affects my writing, where I see some of the same themes and patterns reoccur and the same issues cause me trouble.

I need to see further, I need to know there are more options than what I believe there are.

Saturday, May 15, 2010


A little Iron Man Marathon: Had to watch one so I could understand 2. Very Enjoyable.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Mother Nature

I believe it started with the Marianne Williamson quote that I posted a last month. I started thinking about what I believe in spiritually. I bought Marianne’s book last month to dive back into her words and beliefs, I’m a little nervous to start. I read it 10 years ago and I want to experience it now, ten years later. I want to see how much of what I read shaped what I believe today. I want to see how much has stuck with me and see what lessons of hers I follow now. I want to see if ten years later I still believe in her teachings or if my ideas have changed as I have gotten older. I also want to see if I’m able to accept and understand even more about what she is saying. A lot has happened in ten years and I feel like I don’t want to go backwards or get hurt or confused.

Then, I wrote about what I believed happened to us after we die, sure it’s convoluted and things are wishy-washy as I try to find the strength to explain something that so many people feel passionate about. But this is how I feel about death and life, if any, after it.

Yesterday, I was looking over a friends info page on Facebook: ah good old Facebook, and this is what was written for religion “a benevolent higher power, truth, love, nature.” When I had my tarot cards read ten years ago I pulled up a nature card, I was told it was very rare to get and I always used to believe that nature was my religion. At that time it was more of an excuse then something I believed I could believe in. While some people go to a church to pray I go for a walk in nature. I respect nature and the world around me and do everything I can (mind you I can do better) to make sure I live environmentally and stay aware of what’s happening in the world today.

Also, I believe my spirituality is all about how I treat other people and how I allow other people to treat me. For me it’s knowing who I am, why I make the decisions I make and what has led me to that decision. It’s not about one religion that answers all the questions, it’s about finding and making the choices that allow me to discover and live a full life. So for me, my spiritual beliefs are all about nature, the world around me, and what I give and take.

It’s a little step but it’s my step.

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Read Atonement; watched the movie. May have a little crush on Robbie Turner.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Photo Adventure

I was looking at pictures by Misty Dawn and was inspired. Her pictures are so beautiful and now I want to go on a photo adventure. I want to go as the sun is waking up, and see the world as its eyes blink open. I want to see things; little things that we take for granted and without realizing we walk right by. I want to see something tender and hold it in a picture. I think this weekend there will need to be a photo adventure.

Saturday, May 8, 2010


I was asked to do overtime. I sighed. I would like to help out work. I would like to not feel guilty when I tell them no. But I remembered how I felt last week. How it felt like the world was coming to an end. How it felt like I was being sucked down. And the week before after only two days of work it felt like I would never get enough sleep to make up for the tiredness I was feeling. I feel good today, but I’m also not pushing myself. I didn’t push myself all week. I slept in all week instead of getting up and forcing myself to watch the news, forcing myself to go for a run and hour earlier because I needed to get to work an hour and a half earlier.

So I said that I needed this weekend off and if I felt like it I would go in. But I need my weekends to grow strong again so I can do five days in a row.

Friends posted notes on Facebook about people with depression about how they tried to be strong and I argued that we are strong, even, and especially on the days that we don’t feel strong. I can’t work 6 days in a row with only one day off like other people can. I need to go home and renew, cocoon and grow strong where I have pushed myself thin. And if I’m having a good day I need to embrace it and not take it for granted and run to work. That’s who I am. I need two days off so I can process my emotions and my feelings and understand them. That’s what my weekends are for. The alternatives of doing something else are not an option.

Friday, May 7, 2010


I’m curled up on my couch. I’m sitting in a sunbeam. There are birds singing outside. I have a spring shirt on. My jeans are cut short. I have no socks on. In my left hand I have a glass of… V8. I’m relaxed. I am feeling like a normal human being.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

Power Of Energy

I don’t believe in heaven. I don’t believe that someday, after … I die… I will be sitting on a cloud drinking Bengal Spice tea with the angels. I don’t mean that in a way that I believe I’m going to hell, I’ve done and thought (mostly thought) some non heaven granting things, but really, in the scheme of things, I think they’re basic sins that can be forgiven.

I’ve seen pictures from archeologists and scientist of human, animal and dinosaur skeletons that are hundreds to millions of years old. When we die our bodies go back into the earth and we are returned bits and pieces. Most of the time, our bones crumble away, sometimes, in rare occasions, they survive for centuries.

What I do believe in is the power of energy that surrounds our body and our ability to affect people while we are alive. Our gifts of friendship that we pass to the people we meet, gets passed on mostly in unspoken ways and we remain in spirit. I believe that we are big balls of energy, that we can transfer this to other people through thoughts and prayers when we’re alive. And that our energy escapes the body when we die. What happens to that energy I haven’t got a clear picture of, I don’t know if it runs free and dissipates like a drop of water in a stream. Or if it all stays together and creates a ghost like entity; like when you walk down the hall way of an old building without air-conditioning and a rush of cold air over takes you. That belief, to me, also leaves the door open to reincarnation. Hopefully I won’t find out too soon, but maybe as I get older the feeling I have about it will get stronger and I’ll be led a little further into believing one thing or the other.

There’s a hopefulness about heaven though, isn’t there? As an example, a few friends have lost their favorite cat companions in the past year and I told them that Roxie would be there to show them around Heaven (most of the other cats wouldn’t put out the effort but Roxie would show them the ins, the outs, how to get the best table scraps and how to get the Gods up at 6 am without being banished to the underworld.) It makes me feel warm and reassured to think and tell stories about a place like heaven, but I think that science and my heart gives me another answer.

Saturday, May 1, 2010

Whole Road

I went for a run, and when I lifted my head up, and stopped looking at the ground, I could see there was a whole road ahead of me.