We all have to be someplace...

Evaporate 2Jun / Condensate 3Jun

I have been in Ireland for 10 solid days. I have been meaning to write here the entire time, but I realize that isn't the same as actually sitting down to write. I started this post at 9:01am and I am still sort of sleep. I've been waking up in the middle of the night, going back to sleep until 12pm, I'm not entirely sure if it's jet lag or if it's just me sleeping it out, which is something I rarely do at home because there is always something tugging at me: me having to be someplace, a niece or nephew (by the way, a far superior way to wake up is having a small child climbing up on your bed and requesting "goofydonald" on your tv), the dog barking in my face wanting a walk, mom with a necessary task, my sister flinging open the door: "y'wan'go t'breffix?" (I could murder a plate of hash and eggs btw) and then there is me waking up because I feel like I should be doing something for someone, so I will get up and wander the house for a little before someone wakes up to keep me company.
Anyway, I am not going to complain or whine, instead I am going to look forward and be grateful that I have had the opportunity to do this: to go away for 2 months. People my age do what I am doing only after they have had and raised children and all of those kids are grown and off to college or raising their own families, or worked and worked for everyone else but themselves and then it's "FINALLY, I can ... "
I'm not a "Finally" kind of person. Never have been, don't think I really ever will be. I love experiences, great and small. They are all a part of the journey, they are the things that build up that store of memories to look back on when I am at the end in that nursing home, stroked-out, hands curled and useless, eyes blind and staring. I know I will be reliving the things that I have done because I decided to take the chance, or grabbed the opportunity, to do them.

Black Woman in Ireland - 10 June 2016

...And so here I am, a woman of a certain age, in Ireland, staying in a castle that is over 200 years old and it is an Art Historian's absolute dream. It is utterly romantic in the sense that it is a castle that is over 200 years old. The rooms are cold, and beat up but there are traces of what it once was. There are 4 or 5 rooms on the floor where everyone lives that have been made liveable, and they are lovely. The room I am in is he Earl's room, apparently no one has slept in here for over a hundred years until me, with my laptop, my music and camera-phones.
The view is astounding. I am on the 3rd floor, which is probably the 4th floor in everyday floors, I am almost higher than the tops of very large yew trees. Beyond them is a field where you can hear sheep or cows (I can't tell the difference because...well...animals sounds is not in my wheel-house), then there is a wall and then traffic. It's amazing.

From my window at 8:46pm - 7 June 2016

As time goes on, I will have done more research on the place I am staying and there will photos and pics of the place and the surrounding country.

Happy Saturday

Valentine’s Day is not my favorite time of the year. Let’s face it, everyone at some time or another has dreaded the arrival of February 14th. I used to think that Valentine’s Day was made up by the big, consumerist, greeting card companies and candy manufacturers who took it upon themselves to personally remind me that I am single, that I have always been single, and I will always BE single. That was then, though. I do have friends who still find the day extremely difficult to face if they don’t have someone to “boo love” with, who will get them waxy candy and wilting flowers.

Me? I have a standing date with my Best Boy Buddy, Andrew. We get really good food and watch everyone else be in love for the night.

The real history behind St. Valentine’s Day is slightly disturbing. The day has its roots in a pagan holiday that took place in February called Lupercalia, which was a purification festival in honor of Lupercus, the wolf-god that reared Romulus and Remus. It also could quite possibly have been a fertility festival in honor of the god Faunus (that half man half goat god that always wanted people to be horny). The festival would kick off with the sacrificing of an animal, and the men would beat young women with bloody strips of the animal’s skin to bestow fertility. No. Just...no.

The most likely history of the day is that it is named for Valentine, a Christian Martyr who was decapitated sometime around the 14th of February, back when the centuries were in the single digits and Christianity was still kind of new. The story goes that the Roman Emperor Claudius believed that if young soldiers were married, they would not want to fight because they did not want to leave their families. So, he banned marriages between young men and women. However, Valentine, a priest, would marry young people in secret, against the emperor’s wishes. Eventually, Claudius found out what he was doing, had him arrested and sentenced to death.

During Valentine’s time in prison, the story goes, the young couples he married would pass notes of love and support to him through the barred windows. Another legend is that Father Valentine fell in love with his jailer’s daughter and on the day of his execution he passed  her a note that was signed “From Your Valentine” which is probably the spark that set off the romantic notions that would follow centuries later.

When the practice of pagan rituals was banned, Pope Gelasius I declared February 14 to be St. Valentine's Day, a day of love in all of its Christian morality and chasteness. Centuries later, romantic authors such as Geoffrey Chaucer and Shakespeare helped seal the deal with references to the day in their works.

Whatever you believe of St. Valentine’s Day, the point is that most people do it because they want the fairy tale. All you have to do is look around and see that the bigger the gesture the greater the desperation.  Real couples do it for each other because they once felt that way and now appreciate the special-ness, albeit rarely idyllic circumstance. 

I don’t mind it because we all know that the real holiday is February 15^th when all the Valentine’s Day candy goes on sale for 75% off!

I'm Lying in Bed

I - am lying in bed.

I - am lying in bed.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In through the nose and

out through the mouth.

Or was it the other way 'round?

I supposed it doesn't matter as long as I am breathing, right?

I have to do that

Remind myself that I am in bed.

Walking down the street.

Driving.

Washing dishes.

Shopping at Walmart.

I have to remind myself to be in the moment

So I don't fly off the surface of the earth.

If I force myself to feel every moment in a shitty day

Maybe I would find a few moments that weren't so shitty.

Maybe I could bear being in a life that is 

Too small and ill fitting
Maybe I would finally know it is OK to be here,

For now.

If I focus on NOW 

And Right NOW

And Right NOW

And Right NOW

Maybe I'll be able to see the future more clearly.

Wednesday after 4

It is Wednesday, sometime after 4pm. I am sitting in my favorite coffee shop, Rabbitfoot Records (which I will talk about in another post, on another day). There is a couple next to me playing chess. I have seen them in here before and they speak to each other as if they are newly dating. I like that. It gives me no hope for myself, mind you, but I am glad 2 people have sort of found themselves and are taking the time to get to know each other...I actually don't know their story, but...
ANYway.
It is pouring out and I am inside with a cup full of unsweetened iced tea, struggling with a paper that's due tomorrow at 8am, along with a presentation and a speech.
The paper, as you may have guessed from the title of the post is not actually on the Fibonacci Sequence, but the Golden Ratio.
It is NOT easy, but I picked the topic, because I thought it would be easy, which was my first mistake. I should have picked something completely foreign to me and that might have been easier.
This post isn't anything but a pressure valve release. nothing much to it.

...And Hell is Hot

We humans waste a lot of time looking for THE perfect thing, when really "perfect", the way we imagine it, is only as perfect as we are, and we are not perfect.

I am guilty of wasting time worried about things that were beyond my control, spending time with people that put me down and who ultimately did not have my interests at heart. I let things distract me from my goals and now I am paying for it. I am finding that I have to self-correct a lot while I am in process of becoming and it is exhausting. Waiting for perfect (time, place, person) is not for the faint of heart.

Now, at the age I am, everything that I am learning are the things that I should have learned years ago, and hard as I may wish it, going back is not an option. There is no magic door back to the past. There's no rabbit hole that will take back to the moment where that pivotal decision needed to be made so that maybe I can take what was behind door number 2.
No, definitely not able to go back. So, I move forward and move forward and move forward until I am done. 

I don't think I will ever be done.

Breakfast on the Sun

This the thing: I really like breakfast. The photo on this post was potato hash with sunny side up eggs made by my new(ish) friend Andrew. It was so simple, yet I don't think I could ever imitate it.

Brunch by Andrew!

Starter Overer

Me - eM @ age 44

My father and I circled the perimeter of the campus before we saw life just inside one of the turn-offs, so we went in. There was a very young woman sitting on the curb smoking a cigarette, we asked her where we could find building A. First she sighed really hard, rolled her eyes all the way back in her head and gave us directions that involved a lot of pointing and flying ash from her lit cigarette.
When we pulled away, I rolled up the window "I hesitate taking directions from children." I said to my dad as he searched for the exit.
Dad, ever the cool one, says, without missing a beat, or taking his eyes off the road, "Em, these are your peers."
I clamped my mouth shut. He was right. I was 41 years old, car-less, jobless, penniless, rootless, aimless, almost homeless, a bunch of other "lesses", and I was starting over going to college for the first time in my life and it was terrifying.
Now I am 44. I have been enrolled as a full-time student at a 2-year college since the summer of 2011. Why so long? 1) That summer I only took one class 2) I waited a year until I became a resident in the state of Florida 3) I took this past summer of 2014 off because I needed to.
I am still terrified, even though I know I have a lot in front of me and nothing pinning me to anyplace on the map right now. Things are wide open to me. I have only to choose. The beauty of it all is that I know I can start over, because I've been there, done that and I have the t-shirt to prove it.

Looking for Happy

I kept seeing it everywhere #100HappyDays and wondered what it was about. So I looked it up. (100happydays.com)
Basically, you spend 100 days finding something that makes you happy, you take a picture of it and post it on your Instagram account. I figured, I could use a little happy, and am willing to spend the next 100 days looking for things that make me happy.
Supposedly it takes 21 days to form a habit. I think if I get into the habit of looking for the happy in my life, it will get easier and easier to see as the days go by.
Anyway, I know this a cop-out but, my fist entry is this:
THIS DJ MIX, especially from 45:20 onward.
Enjoy.
Day One in the bag...

Sounds

these are my new obsession...


check it out...it's worth it

21 June 14 - Journo...

a good friend

came to me in a dream

eyes full of tears

despite his hope

his hurt was so great

that it spanned the widths and depths

of his heart

entered my dream

a thousand miles away

and all i could do was

give in to his pain and

wrap my arms around him

let his tears stain my dress

we are friends

that's what we do

cry each other's tears

hold each other up through the dark

even in dreams

One Truth...?

Everyone is searching for truth. A truth. THE Truth.
Is there only one truth out there?
There are approximately 7 billion people on this planet and there are exactly that many versions of the truth there are being sought.
Some of us find it.
Some of us never do.
There are some people who never even look or even try to find it. They're content to be just who and what they are.
I have no idea where I fall in that. I just know that I am completely unsatisfied with this version of my life. I can only hope there is a me in a parallel life...a life where every decision I never made lives on...I can only hope that version of me is satisfied with her life as it is, because this version is shitty...
Ever so shitty.

Spartacus Notes

So, I love having random nuggets of writing for people I love and the following is from my brother. I think he is one of the most well-spoken storytellers I know.

OK, soooooo, I'm in Target the other day. It was a bandanna, sweats, Tims and sleeveless shirt kind of morning. Waiting on line to get my Starbucks, when a l'il blanket dragging kid comes around the corner, looks up at me and says "Do you live under my bed?". OK, here's the thing: I have a very limited brain to mouth filter. So, I looked down at the l'il Linus wannabe an I calmly said "Not yet. I move in tonite. See you later." And smiled. The l'il urchin then runs off yelling "Mommy, mommy! I saw a monster!!" It was a special moment. — feeling amused.

Back

From the blackness of the universe

Shone one milky star

Dim and shivering with its new light

And here I am

In this modern world

New raw aching

For something that I just cannot name

I am free and scattered

Across the black of this universe

But free

As free as those of mine were not

I waste moments

Take chances for granted

They…

Were born with no chances

Under someone else’s hand

And choices were hopes

That stolen moments

Would bring a peace

That could never be known in life

The roots in grasping earth

Need be turned

Us go back

Them have chances we waste

Choices we take for granted

Back

Through the blackness

Exchange places

We would all know

I would know

Something I do not

How I got here,

A soul owning a soul

What they wanted

            Life unchained

There is a house...

There is an empty house on a road in Osteen, Florida.
This happened....

27 Dec 2013

27 Dec 2013

27 Dec 2013

27 Dec 2013

27 Dec 2013

maybe

i do not like this word

...maybe...

very indecisive

...one day i will find the right words, and they will be simple...

-j.kerouac

Northern Transplant : Southern Exile

Sun slants over a late day sky
The warm breeze
Unsuitable
For my uncovered winter skin

I am lost and
In this man made
Landscape where my shadow 
Rails against the synthetic wilds

I make no sense here 
I will go 
Just as soon
As I am done...

I aspire...

This is for Giacometti 

Creator of 'the standing man'

He, 

Being an existential artist,

Lived provisionally

Never permanent 

Always passing through

...indeed...

Nowheresville

starbucks - semeron blvd, orlando, fl - 1706, 30 Oct 2013

It is interesting to be sitting in a Starbucks far from where I first learned what a Starbucks was and what it was for and yet it still smells, look and feels the same.
Burnt, a certain manufactured ease and pretentious.
The more things change, the more they stay the same. I suppose it's comforting knowing that I can get a passion iced tea, shaken, with a few pumps of raspberry and a few Madeline cookies in Germany, England, New York, Chicago, LA, Grand Rapids...Lake Mary, Florida (don't ask), but even that gets old, I want something new. Different.
The only thing that changes about places like these is the scenery outside the plate glass windows. Right now, I'm rocking palm trees and lots of traffic outside mine.
If I ignored the windows, though, I could be sitting in a Starbucks anywhere in the world.
When I am visiting another city, I try to ignore the place all together and look for something out of the way, off the beaten path, preferably with free WiFi, where there is almost always sure to be some much better offerings. I'm usually right.

OH!

Why am I sitting in Starbucks right now? This is Orlando, Florida. Everything here is manufactured. There are no better offerings here, which is sad. Except, maybe, Panera, but that's even sadder because it's like a little sister desperate to like her big sister. The little pockets of individuality and creativity are run over like so much roadkill and left to fester on the hot southern asphalt as an example to anyone who does not fit the mold...whatever that means...all for the sake of tourism.
Sunshine State indeed. I hate this place. I hate myself in this place. It's killing me. I am making an escape before they tie me a palm tree while a giant anthropomorphic mouse god forces the KoolAid down my throat.

Ugh

It is 2:55am and I am watching "Some Kind of Wonderful" reliving a part of my childhood. I remember identifying with this movie on some primal level. I am trying to figure out why...I think it's the girl is in love with guy but guy is in love with another girl who hardly knows he exists and who is with someone else thing...it all works out in the end.

Perhaps I am looking at my childhood from a higher point in my life and shaking my head at the time I wasted on people who did not waste their time on me.

Even now...if someone is unavailable  in any way then I am sure to be attracted to him. Partly because the men who are available at my age are so desperate and weird that if that's all that's left then I don't mind being alone.

We all know they don't get together in the end, and if they do, it won't last.

I'm 43 years old and I have never been in love. Not even once for a moment. I have a friend who will crucify me for being a self-indulgent, ungrateful person. "You have your family." 

True as that all may be, still...