:: anne in the attic ::

Create Your Own Countdown

:: Monday, December 29, 2003 ::

The following parable is one of my favorites, and comes from one of my favorite books, Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour: An Introduction, (pp. 4-5), by J.D. Salinger.

"Duke Mu of Chin said to Po Lo, “You are now advanced in years. Is there any member of your family whom I could employ to look for horses in your stead?”

Po Lo replied, “A good horse can be picked out by its general build and appearance. But the superlative horse—one that raises no dust and leaves no tracks—is something evanescent and fleeting, elusive as thin air. The talents of my sons lie on a lower plane altogether; they can tell a good horse when they see one—but they cannot tell a superlative horse. I have a friend, however—one Chiu-fang Kao: a hawker of fuel and vegetables, who in things appertaining to horses is nowise my inferior. Pray see him.”

Duke Mu did so—and subsequently dispatched him on the quest for a steed. Three months later, he returned with the news that he had found one. “It is now in Shach’iu,” he added.

“What kind of horse is it?” asked the Duke.

“Oh, it is a dun-colored mare,” was the reply.

However, someone being sent to fetch it: the animal turned out to be a coal-black stallion!

Much displeased, the Duke sent for Po Lo. “That friend of yours,” he said, “whom I commissioned to look for a horse, has made a fine mess of it. Why, he cannot even distinguish a beast’s color or sex! What on earth can he know about horses?”

Po Lo heaved a sigh of satisfaction. “Has he really got as far as that?” he cried. “Ah, then he is worth ten thousand of me put together. There is no comparison between us. What Kao keeps in view is the spiritual mechanism. In making sure of the essential, he forgets the homely details; intent on the inward qualities, he loses sight of the external… So clever a judge of horses is Kao: that he has it in him to judge something better than horses.”

When the horse arrived, it turned out indeed to be a superlative animal."


Always searching for the superlative horse. And despite my feeble abilities, occasionally I find one or two. I found a card for someone a few weeks ago that quoted Mother Theresa: "If you love until it hurts, then there's no more hurt; only more love." Happy New Year, everyone.

:: Anne 11:37 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

What an odd day it was yesterday, kind of surreal. I'd been listening to Sarah M's new album , basking in the ethereality of it. When I finally went out into the world, it was one of those days where strangers confided in me. As I was picking up some Ikebana supplies at the gardening store, a woman told me that her car had been stolen that morning (a candy red Honda Acura). Someone else spoke to me about pottery. At the bank, another woman admitted some personal things that took me by surprise. I kept waiting for a man to sidle up to me and announce that he'd lowered his cholesterol....

Over the weekend, I lost my old email account of several years. It was for the better, though, I think, as the one I switched to offers 5 times the storage and seems to load faster. And the spammers don't know it exists yet. Anyway, for those of you who still read this blog, I have updated the "contact" address to the new one.

This week is nearly half done, and I feel as though I've spent half of my vacation dealing with computer issues. I've got a couple of days to take care of some chores, and then Mom and I are going up to Portland for the weekend. Man, I wish I had two weeks in a row. Someday.

:: Anne 1:01 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Thanksgiving turned out to be a pleasant surprise. When it just seemed too much either to do a big production or to travel within the space of one day, I opted out of the family plan and resigned myself to having some time instead. Then a funny thing happened on the way to that forum. The universe presented something else. Through a separate invitation, I did something I haven't done in many years and spent the holiday locally with some friends, people I don't necessarily know too well. And it was just what I needed. And I got to hang with some new folks who seem to be the real thing. In my book, there's nothing better.

My life is awash in many changes these days. In the past year, I have done things I never thought I would do. I have made many new friends and lost a few old ones. My closest sibling moved to another city. I ended a relationship without fear. I have lived alone and enjoyed the hell out of it. And I have rekindled my musical pursuits, given that the time needed to bump it up a notch. I have had the opportunity to see and do some things through a renewed spirit because of that. And I am oh so thankful. I know many challenges also await -- they always do. But I feel as though I'm growing stronger, more able to weather what comes, and to weed out the things that don't really matter too much in the long run. (How much this applies to interpersonal realms!) Let the little things go. Ah, this is the curse of the Virgo, to become too wrapped up in the details and thereby miss the big picture. But I am learning. There are great teachers all around me if I am vigilant.

:: Anne 12:16 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

A fairly severe oversight on my part, but I wanted to mention the passing of Elliott Smith on October 21st of this year. He took his own life in a swift and final knife to the chest. He'd been working on his latest album, which he himself had said in an interview was about ninety percent complete. I just hope that the recording company doesn't bastardize his work in order to "put out a cohesive album." Let it be how he left it, period. I own everything he's ever done, having begun to follow his work even before it appeared in such blockbuster films as "Good Will Hunting" and "The Royal Tanenbaums." There was an arm's-length yet intimate style to his recordings: up close and personal acoustic guitar with vocals that seemed almost a whisper at times. And he had a way with words, a restrained, insightful sorrow. Though I pass no judgment on his decision, I will miss him terribly. Thanks, Elliott, for what you left us, and for being willing even to share that.

:: Anne 11:50 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Enter Winter. A little over a week ago, we had a rather balmy day or two, and then WHAM! -- the temperature dropped, the rains came, and here we are: another gray November. With that turn, work becomes a little harder, a little colder, windier, wetter. Though my total work hours have let up some, the ones where I'm out there in the elements really take it out of me. Samantha is quite content to have me home a bit more, though. I've stocked up on soups.

In other news, our choir had a fundraiser -- a "bowl-a-thon," no less -- and it was a blast. My scores were pretty foul, but it's a social activity that I wouldn't mind. My only worry would be accelerating the incipient carpal tunnel problems I feel coming on these days. My recently-learned guitar style seems to have brought it forth, as well as the last two years casing mail; and just being that much more dextrous means I've awakened often with a painful numbness and had to invest in wrist braces. Dorky.

I'm quite pleased with the level of study in the guitar lessons. That seems to be going well (haven't hit that first real learning plateau yet, but I know I will at some point), especially since I videotaped some of his movements so I could study them later when I had time. We're on kind of a flexible schedule these days, as I never know when I'll have to work late and cancel. In fact I've got a lesson tonight at seven that was rescheduled from Wednesday. He has me working on some Dylan, some June Carter and Gillian Welch (at my request). Good stuff.

In the last two days, I've been a lucky winner in two different raffle/participant events. A friend says those things come in threes and that I should buy a lottery ticket. Today. Yeah. Right.

:: Anne 5:39 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

My mother will remember the ceremony she arranged for me when I was nine at the local sufi house in our California town. It was to "discover" my mantra, in the first step to meditation. She meditated daily, and suggested it as a remedy for the reduction of my stress and hyperactivity. It was an out-of-the-box experience for me then, and I know some of it was lost on this nine-year-old. But I never forgot it, and have often come back to that little tool as the means to a center. That, after all, was the idea, wasn't it? From there, it grows with you, perhaps into a kind of coping instinct that kicks in. When it does, you often find yourself with a little perspective, which is handy when everything around you feels so chaotic. That's sort of where things are this week. I'm barely awake and moving through time. There are spaces ahead in the distance of rest, leisure, creativity, fellowship.... The meditative moments create small pockets of peacefulness in between. So often it's the silences between the notes that define the music itself. There are times when it's necessary just to let everything else fall away and know this. And sometimes, in quietude, you hear so much.

:: Anne 1:04 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

:: Anne 12:27 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

The first order of business is the show Thursday night: Gillian Welch & David Rawlings. I mean, wow. They performed some things from the new album, Soul Journey ("Look At Miss Ohio," "One Monkey," "I Had a Real Good Mother and Father"), some from Time the Revelator ("My First Lover," "Red Clay Halo," and of course, "Revelator"), as well as some old faves like "One More Dollar" and some things they haven't yet recorded. David's hair has grown nearly to his shoulders, but he still wears his gospel suit. And Gillian wore a purple sparkley dress, perfect for Eugene. The house was packed. It was just the two of them, no back-up drums or bass. It was so intoxicating in a whiskey kind of way, sad but sweet. They didn't play "Everything Is Free" or "Annabelle," but no matter.... maybe next time. And they did three encores to a truly devoted crowd. Andy and I stuck around afterward for autographs. She came out in jeans and a black leather jacket, with granny glasses on. When I shook her hand, it was thin and soft, but so strong. Damn, I'd date her. She signed my CD "To Annabelle." Susan's gonna shit. As for me, well, I am still under the spell of the haunting simplicity and truth of this particular artist. Her music plays as I go about the house, not so much in the background, but more like a pulse that keeps me connected and lifts my heart up into moments of beauty so pure it's painful.

There's more happening these days, but it'll keep. Time's the revelator.

:: Anne 12:27 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

There are times when I believe I was meant to live a monastic life. Not literally, but many of the elements are there, it seems. And in many ways, it feels quite comfortable to me. I'm content to keep my own company, and often as a substitute for social contact, I develop a rich inner existence. There have been phases in my life as long as a year when I have sort of slipped out of everyone's lives and moved to the periphery, asking little and remaining rather invisible. That is not something that I honestly desire, however. After a time, I forget how it is to be close to others, and re-entry becomes a task. It's almost like a depression of sorts -- I can see myself drifting away, but feel somewhat powerless to stop it. I begin to feel isolated, estranged.

So this past week, I have made a real effort to reach out to people and try to prevent what I see happening right now. I am working a great many hours alongside trying to juggle the elements of responsibility, goals, and pleasure in my life. I see people every day, but it is only surface-skimming. I long for good, easy conversation with someone I trust well; I wish to balance the social with the solitary pursuits. I suppose, as an old friend and I used to say, some days I just would like to have my existence verified. Maybe that's just a cerebral way of saying that I'd like to know I'm loved. But then I always shy away from allowing that. So inside I wage psychological warfare with myself over things like the consequences of need, the cost of such risks, age-old battles.

"The mass of men lead lives of quiet desperation." --Thoreau. Women, too, I'd guess.

:: Anne 11:59 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

A month after Mom's birthday, we celebrate mine (which was actually two days ago). It was a fine Autumn day here in the Pacific Northwest. Grant came down from Portland last night, Mom came up from Corvallis this morning, and we all proceeded to work in my yard until a little after one. Then we barbequed some chicken, had some drinks, and hung out on the porch admiring the results of our hard work. Grant hit the road around six, and I tuned Mom in to one of my DVD's on the high-def widescreen (she's driving back in the morning), and here I am with a little time to myself.

Wow, the last few weeks sure have been busy. The choir has started its new season, and with some great new material. It's nice to be back in touch with choir community. The guitar lessons are in full swing, and I've been busy learning to pick -- my teacher's great: easygoing but knows his shit and has incredible skills. I've been enjoying my freedom without the strangling relationship I'd been in for over three years. Back in August, I made the final decision to extricate myself from that, and it feels like a good one. However, I think I'm going to be unavailable for a while (and perhaps have been for some time), as I let myself pursue some personal interests and goals. So much to do, to discover. I am 38 now, after all.

:: Anne 7:37 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

That strange freon taste of ice cubes. The dust visible on the brown highway signs in Wyoming as the pink sun sets. A familiar lilt in a pet's voice that lets you know she's talking directly to you. The sharp green aroma of tomato branches. The strangely muted glint of an amber glass. The sticky sound of car tires on a wet street. The slightly dank smell that rises in the air one morning that tells you there will be no more really hot summer days. The energy between two people who have not yet touched, but are about to. The slight ringing in your ears when the music has stopped, and what's left is the stillness inside, small pieces of echoes, signifying... nothing.

Exquisite reasons, all, for gratitude. Doubt about the way things are going? About others? About yourself? Refer to above passage.

:: Anne 10:00 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Not brunch after all, but dinner we had in honor of mom's birthday on Sunday, and at the Electric Station. It was nice. Grant had come down from P-town the night before, so we got to hang out. He called last night to say that he might have a decent job offer, finally. I'll miss not seeing him, but it's cool that I can talk to him on my cell phone pretty much free of cost in the evenings. And it's not so far away, really... but sometimes it might as well be a million miles.

On the flip side, another good friend from out of state will be in town the end of next month. Says he might look for work here and move back, dunno. That would be cool. I miss the friends who used to hang out at what we all called "Jackson Street 90210." Almost all of them have left town. I've been in this house nearly seven years now, and I'm getting a kind of itch. I want to make music with people on the porch, drink a beer or two, hang out, laugh a lot, sit up on the deck at night with the chili pepper lights, and play "Mobopoly" with our special rules. I guess I had more time to spend then, and I've traded that for money, sort of. There will come a time when that will change, and I will be able to work less... when I will be more available to better nurture the relationships that are so important to me.

That said, I look forward to the new choir season beginning next week. I have definitely missed that weekly communion of women. I wonder how it's going to be now that... well, some major changes have taken place. Also next week, I start guitar lessons with a well-known blues & folk performer here in town. I hope it works out -- I need to learn some new techniques and give my tired old ones a rest.

:: Anne 9:21 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

My brother refers to my yard as "the English Garden;" translation: "slightly overgrown." Estimation? Slightly underplayed, as the degree of overgrowth surpasses "slightly" and is fast approaching "quite." That's like saying that his cat loses "a few hairs." Yeah. I spoke to him last night on the phone for a while, both of us bemoaning the loss of romance in our lives, it seems. What is it with all of these joyless people? They're unhappy, so they want you to be unhappy, too. But it becomes so tiresome -- I should think it would be a lot of hard work to be so negative all of the time. Anyway, he's due in about an hour, so I'm stealing some time while I print and burn some projects on the old Dell. (A friend at work helped me rediscover "The Creatures," so I've been compiling some of their stuff.) He's got some business to finish, but after that, we'll hang out and shoot the shit. The atrociously hot weather has abated some since yesterday; the clouds are back for the first time in several weeks. So maybe we'll hunt down some good food -- it's hard to want to eat well when your body is working so hard to avoid becoming baked meat.

Next Sunday is mom's birthday brunch -- I'm hoping the weather holds for that, too. Many of my friends have spoken of jaunts to the coast lately -- I miss our annual birthday gathering at the British folks' house in Yachats. Ah, well, I suppose it has to do with my never having more than one day off at once these days. I hope that by next year, that will change.

:: Anne 11:24 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

It's that strange time of the season when everything seems to have gone to seed. Everyone seems a little spent, it's a little bit too hot out, we've all been working hard -- making hay while the sun shines here in the Northwest, and energy levels are at a low point now. Summer feels like it's winding down and August is just beginning.

My 20-year high school reunion went off without me, but I am on the e-mailing list and have had the joy of hearing various communications throughout its process. There weren't many hippie kids (or rather, children of hippies) at that school, a place of ease and priviledge. I wonder how much I would have to talk about with many of those people now, save the ones who were my best buddies (one of whom turned out to be gay, too). And I hear Dan Fogelberg singing, "Ohhhhh, live in the country....."

And in the end, I am forging a well-known path of solitude these days. There is much work to be done in many aspects of my life, it seems. There are those who would like to see me falter, who have tried to toss various wrenches into my spokes, and I have had to set myself apart from them. I will not be dragged down into the pit of despair by the vipers already there.

In the moments between intentions, thoughts, and doings, the music fills in the spaces and desperately hopes I'll notice it long enough to write it down, or commit pieces of it to memory for later. Right now, the music comes easier than the lyrics, and it feels equally set between guitar and keyboards. When this happens, I always wish I had more time to compose and create. But perhaps the creativity peaks when I am busiest, simply because the muses take that sensory overload and turn it into inspiration. In whatever form it appears, I thank them, and implore them please, to continue; for, this is one of life's true pleasures, out of which can be borne such beauty that words cannot describe nor justify.

:: Anne 6:32 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

The long-awaited barbeque finally took place yesterday, and though I enjoyed hosting it, it wasn't quite what I expected. The original plan was to have a core group, but it grew a bit, which is fine, but then you have a variety of people with a variety of agendas. Hey, it was just a Sunday grillin' hangout. I thought it was pretty cool that my brother could hang out with all those women, though he later escaped to a friend's. He went back to Portland today while I was at work. Since we took care of our mutual carpet-shampooing needs this weekend, and that seems to be the final step in his departure (and rental of his home to someone on the 20th of this month), there will probably be few visits to Eugene for a while. After a decent settling-in time, I'd really like to go up there for an overnighter to see their new digs, and maybe do some things in the big city.

As for me, I'm still working those six-day weeks. And I'm taking housemate calls. Ooky.

:: Anne 6:11 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

For years, I've entertained ideas of "conceptual" music compilations. At any given time, I usually have four or five "in the works." New music is usually added to my active listening repertoire at such a rate that I can conceive of several different mood-altering or situation-appropriate CD's, usually for my own enjoyment, but sometimes for others, as well. To boot, I usually link visuals to these ideas in the form of album covers, if I have time. (The next step is, of course, to create music videos. I have already thrown together some slide shows with inter-frame effects, but these programs are limiting in creative segues, twists, stops, etc.) Anyway, I was ruminating upon my latest CD themes (e.g. etheral Brit pop, sort of.... like Radiohead, Phaser, Travis, Turin Brakes), and the usual visuals began playing in my head. And suddenly I felt saturated by predictable turns, the CD's where you always know what's coming next. It awakened in me a hunger for the good old radio, where you can't tell what's in the DJ's head, and you (usually) never know what's coming next. Well, a partial solution to this is to convert all of your CD players into mp3 players as well, record 200 songs per CD (instead of the usual 15 to 20), and hit the "random play" button. Viola... instant 8-hour radio station, but with only the songs YOU want to hear, sort of DMX-style. Yeah, okay, I'm probably not gonna go out and convert everything any time soon, but I do plan to make my next car stereo mp3-compatible. By then, typical CD's will probably be capable of storing gigabytes (like DVD's) instead of megabytes, and one CD/DVD filled with mp3's can last a person for days. Yeah - road trip.

:: Anne 9:05 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Kind of a hectic two weeks, it has been. Softball games, a friend's birthday, my brother's trips back and forth to Portland (and his house in chaos). After working 58 hours last week, I had only Sunday off to try to do all of the chores that have been waiting for me, including some serious yard work. I need a tree trimmer -- badly. I also need to do a lot of clearing of growth around the house itself. Well, anyway, Sunday was full of chores, mostly outdoors. All of that despite severe allergies this season -- thank the universe, Claritin-D is now over-the-counter. It doesn't completely squelch the symptoms, though, but its side effects are basically nil, so it's my drug of choice.

My brother is moving to Portland with his girlfriend, and I will be taking his cat, Joey. I'm pretty sure Joey and Sam will get along, as they're both eight-year-old spayed females, fairly socialized and mellowed with age. And now I will have two female kitties with butch names. And it will once again be strange not to be able to go hang out with my brother as the urge strikes. When I lived in Massachusetts, I used to have dreams about having coffee with my brother -- it was one of the things I sorely missed, being 3000 miles away. I wonder if the dreams will start again. Well, this time, I'll be only an hour and a half away (about 100 miles), so day trips are not out of the question, along with an occasional overnighter. It might be fun to get up to the big city now and then. He's getting pretty excited about his new neighborhood, all trendy-urban, with espresso places at every corner, exotic foods, other city people with dogs, and the basic proximity of everything within walking distance. He'll hang on to his house here (and rent it out), as a safety net for a while, in case things don't work out.

I've decided I must get serious about renting out a room in my house. It's the best way to ensure that I can squirrel away the money for a downpayment on this place (or another, who knows?) when I decide it's time to buy. I have a target amount that will make my mortgage payment reasonable. Actually, with mortgage rates as low as they are, I'm feeling the pressure of the market to get on it. So I will again begin the arduous process of taking calls from random strangers to find someone who is a suitable fit. For a year now, I've enjoyed the luxury of living here myself, walking about in my underwear, leaving the dishes if I chose, playing music at all hours, belching and farting as I pleased. Well, it was an expensive luxury, but I think I needed it after the crowded house I'd suffered for the two years before that. But also, the downstairs room sits completely empty -- a total waste of space. I'll run the ad next week.

But the greatest thing that happened this week is that the long-awaited Radiohead album was finally released. It definitely requires effort from the listener, but it is good ol' Thom Yorke, and will join my collection smoothly, like an old friend.

:: Anne 8:43 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I skipped softball practice this afternoon, for interpersonal reasons. Things took a familiar turn last night, as I discovered that someone close to me has been up to the same old shit. I've dealt with this before, but this will be the last time. There's too much that's good in the world to spend time getting sucked into someone's repeated manipulations. If that sounds a bit callous, I hope it's only because this person has tried me so much that now I'm just feeling used up with regard to her. Ah, well. Last night was not a good one.

Today, however, I resolved to move in a positive direction... so I cleaned my house. Then I finally resurrected my indoor water fountain, put together the Shaker table for it to sit on, and cut a couple of choice bits from the yard to adorn it, ikebana-style. Later on, I ran a few errands, including visiting my brother's to care for his cat while he's in Portland this weekend. After that, this illness caught up with me again and I had to rest for a while, so I did some reading and a bit of paper-pushing. Not a particularly fascinating day, but with such low energy, I guess it's to be expected. In times like this, Nyquil is my saviour.

:: Anne 12:31 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Truly, the Talk Talk heroin albums were full of darkness, but with an intimacy and warmth that has always allowed me to explore that without reservation. I have been quarantined here in my den of technotoys and electronica since Wednesday night, when I began to battle a strange and sudden illness that swept me off my feet and into the infernal confines of my bed... and my mind. After two nights of tossing about in an achy sweat and a searing in my throat, I decided what the hell and visited my doctor yesterday afternoon. With a small co-pay (thank you, insurance) and a 45-minute wait, I found out that I do not have Strep or anything with a name, per se, except a temperature, a very raw throat, and a pounding headache. But it did get me a note from the doc to miss work today as well (that's three in a row -- a record for me), which means, with the holiday, that I don't have to feel better until Tuesday morning. Yay.

But I began to feel a little bored last night. I'd missed a softball game with quite a few friends in attendance on Thursday evening, and have been in self-imposed seclusion with the resolve that I will not come into personal contact with anyone until my fever breaks, when I will no longer be contagious. So I called a few friends to talk with people, and then I rented a couple of videos to pull me through. Even now, my throat is still hurting quite a bit (but nothing like it was), my head and body ache a bit, and I feel rather dragged out, but I do believe that the fever has finally broken. So I may drag my ass out to watch softball practice tomorrow afternoon just to see some people.

As for music, I finally opened the new White Stripes album I bought last week, and it was fanfuckingtastic. I also paid some attention to Phaser's "Sway" album, and for some odd reason, decided to pull out the two Talk Talk cd's after all of this time. Wow. I'd like to make a video with one of their songs as backing. But first I need to get a Firewire card and transfer cord (50 bucks at your local Circuit City, I'm told) so I can get more from my digital video recorder than just mpeg videos. Actually, that's all my computer can burn anyway, is mpeg's, using a VCD program (no DVD's), so I'll have to weigh that option against buying a whole new system in January, my target date.

:: Anne 5:44 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

The photography session went well, and Mother's Day was a success. After a beer and some Woodstock's Pizza topped with bell peppers, mom and I went upstairs to the skylit landing, dropped a neutral blue backing against the railing, and shot hundreds of photos of her series of little female torso sculptures. After weeding out the unbalanced and the blurry, we ended up with nearly 80 nice photos that cover every piece she's done (except the ones in my house, which I will add later). I'm partial to the four Raku pieces -- they're just spectacular. In fact, I placed a call this morning telling mom that I hoped they were not for sale, but if they were, I was an interested buyer. The porcelain is nice as well, but I can't say there's even one I don't like. I told her she really needed to get serious about signing and dating these things, as mine each have a mere piece of masking tape with "Beth" scrawled on it stuck to the bottom of them.

Vacation #2 is officially underway. As soon as I down some more coffee and get my shit together, I'm heading over to Grant's for a while. The weather is kind of splotchy, but I want to cut the grass later if possible, and then this evening, I hope to do some cohesive work on mom's art photos. I scored the latest Jack Johnson album, and taught myself another song last night. And I almost forgot: Saturday, I finally purchased the classical guitar I had put on lay-away at McKenzie River Music. It's a Takamine C134S. I just love it -- the warm nylon sound, the delicate response, and the deep tonal resonance will add versatility and texture to some of my work. I did a test 3-track recording excerpt with it last night and was quite pleased with the result.
I think I will bring it, along with my beloved Gibson, to the coast next weekend.

:: Anne 11:18 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Ah, one more day of work, and then I slip into my second week of vacation. It's been a hectic week, and I'm ready to do some serious relaxing. The kickoff is Sunday, when I'll drive up to Corvallis to hang out with mom for the day. We'll probably have lunch out, and then I'll finally take the photos necessary to construct a digital portfolio of her latest series of sculptures (which are probably my favorite work of hers to date). Grant and mom had their time together when they took an overnighter up to Breitenbush last Sunday, which sounds pretty cool.

Last Saturday's concert was somewhat of a surprise. Things went wrong that I didn't expect; yet, other things went better than I expected. All in all, I believe it was a success. Due to a late work schedule, I missed the beginning of rehearsal last night, and therefore much of the feedback and year-end wrap-up talk. (Two people tried to tape it for me, but those little recorders just aren't very good at getting diction -- just sounds and tones.) One woman relayed a comment she'd overheard in the audience, where some man had said that we were pretty good, considering our "pedestrianism." If he only knew. I'm sure that so many people have no idea what this group of women give to each other in this choir. Most people just see a choir, but they don't see the intense community within it. My words are ridiculously inadequate when it comes to this; I cannot express what it has meant to me this past year -- and perhaps it's just as well. Some things feel so much better in their unsaid state. Yet today, I found myself thinking quite a bit about not having the choir all summer. And I felt rather bereft. Or perhaps I was just having a bad day. (Dwelling on interpersonal communications again, are we? Hmm....) There's just something about attending a rehearsal with fifty-some-odd other lesbian women all in a room together once a week. It's so much more than just a choir, but I think every one of us in it knows that. This is why, every chance I get, I'll be sitting in the stands for those softball games.

I blog, therefore I am.

:: Anne 10:08 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

It's a beautiful Friday morning here in the Pacific Northwest; the gods have smiled upon this vacation weather-wise. In fact, I've felt pretty good all week, even with all of the things that had to be done. I knew going into it, though, that this week would be my "working" vacation, and the one I've scheduled two weeks from now will be the "playing" vacation. Well, for the most part -- the lines between work and play are often blurred for me. Case in point: yesterday I washed my car thoroughly and drove it over to my brother's house, where I could wax and buff it unobstructed by falling tree debris. Now I know that seems like work to most people, but with the sun shining the way it was, that I was hanging out with my bro, and with the aid of an electric handheld buffer, I felt like I was playing. And Zooey looked pretty sharp afterward.

So, too, the yardwork I've been slowly fitting in. The yard looks better than it did, but there's still a long way to go before the courtyard's clear and the edges are as defined as I wish them to be. I keep meaning to hire someone to come in and do a clean sweep, but there's never enough time for me to arrange a meeting with anyone. Well, maybe next vacation.

Today, I plan to take care of a few loose ends (rotate car tires, iron, have guitar restrung), but mostly I am going over lyrics in my head and resting my voice for tomorrow. The choir did a complete run-through at rehearsal last night, and the night before, my section (the tenors) met to solidify a few things, so I have a pretty good idea what final cramming I need to do for tomorrow night's performance. And tonight, the bass section is going to meet here for a cram session. We'll have one more complete run-through tomorrow morning at the tech rehearsal, and then it's showtime! I must admit that it will be a relief when it's done. But for now, I will continue to perfect details as best I can right up until the curtain rises. The Hult Center, wow. Mom, if you're reading this, thanks for the piano lessons.

:: Anne 8:27 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Today is the first day of a week's vacation, the first of two staggered to fit the choir schedule somewhat. This week, our big concert is next Saturday; two weeks from then is our annual coastal retreat. Regardless of why I scheduled that time off when I did, I found that as I approached it, working became less and less tolerable until yesterday I was downright irritable at work. Fortunately, my job requires me to be outside on foot most of the day, and I could just walk it off -- in the slicing wind and the pouring rain. And last night, after taking some of my "famous" spinach lasagna to friends, I headed over to my girlfriend's house for some down time.

So this morning, I am tired but happy. The thought of a whole week ahead rises slowly with the steam from my coffee and settles in, an easy feeling in my bones, some sorely needed R & R. Of course, I have some serious plans, and have resorted to a loose schedule in order not to forget something I've been wanting or meaning to do. The most wonderful part is that I hired someone to clean my house yesterday while I was at work, and my vacation begins with a blissfully orderly atmosphere (I'm sure that will gradually come undone throughout the week) and the faint aromas of orange oil, Simple Green, and Murphy's Oil Soap. Way to a Virgo's heart, man. As I told a friend yesterday, and have said in the past: forget foreplay -- clean my house!

This morning, I plan to sift through the foot-high stack of papers that need filing, and possibly finish up some ironing. Then later, weather permitting, I might check out softball practice and have a beer. Monday, I've arranged to hang out with my brother; Tuesday I have a massage appointment (oh, yeah!) and lunch with a friend afterward; Wednesday, my girlfriend and I are doing breakfast at the local bookstore and seeing some old friends. One of those evenings will probably be an impromptu cram session for some of the tenors in the choir. One of those sunny afternoons, I want to wax and buff my car. On another day, I want to prep my deck for summer and re-pot my tomato starts. And at least once, I want to get out to the woods for a hike, possibly with a friend. I also predict I'll start the recording process of another song sometime this week (one from about ten years ago that has lately risen from the ashes for some revisions and additions). There's one last choir rehearsal Thursday night, and then Saturday morning we have a two-hour tech rehearsal, followed by the big concert Saturday night. Sunday will be all about recovery, I'm sure. Then it's back to work for a week, and then another week off, which ends with the retreat at the coast.

Gonna have a great time!

:: Anne 7:40 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Last night, I tried to post an entry here, and the site went down just as I hit the "post & publish" button and the entry was lost, even my draft.... And I have to think one of two things. One, maybe my entry crashed the site. Yeeeeaahhh, baby. Two, I have to take it as a sign that those were not the right words to say, that the universe rejected them and forced me to rethink them (or forget them, as the case may be). There were some political judgments against our president, some "not in my name" sentiments, and general fear at what we've set ourselves up for. After which I turned the leaf over with "but I just can't stay angry with all the beauty there is in the world" a la "American Beauty," practically verbatim.

Well, but what a different world it was today when I found myself becoming frustrated at the most insignificant things. What a difference a day makes: in manner, in feeling, in which weblog entry appears on your site for all to see, in which country is beating up on whom. Maybe Rome was built in a day, after all. And it sucked, so they tore it all down and began again from scratch.

:: Anne 8:46 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

My little blog is starving to death. Apologies to those who come looking for updates and find none.

Spring is usually like this, I guess. I topped out at 55 hours of work this past week, and next week looks to be slated about the same. This is the busy season, when everybody starts going on annual leave, and work really picks up until about September. Nice for the overtime, but there are so many other things I want to do as the weather warms up.

But just now, I need a little breather. I find myself rather perplexed today at someone's behavior toward me last night during a meeting. I let it get to me all day, and it consumed more energy than it should have, considering that I believe this person's hostility toward me said more about her than it did about me. Still, I didn't expect it, so it took me off guard. I always hate it when a wolf in sheep's clothing slips under my radar. As always, though, once I've seen the wolf for what it is, why do I still care? Is it ego? Is it compassion? Or is it merely a curiosity as to why people do the things they do, seemingly unprovoked? The Virgo analyst craves a behaviorist sociology. Answers. I guess the thing that really bothers me is that I thought this person respected me -- so there's the bruised ego, I guess. I am resisting the urge to categorize this person, although it would be a simple task, because I suspect my words would be borne of retaliation. And though others witnessed her harsh words, I left the situation before I could "check in" with anyone else about what they perceived. So I stewed about it all by myself all day. I don't like being so affected by others' negativity. I need to develop better ways of shucking this shit off -- because I sure don't need other people's shit stickin' to me! Okay, I'm done with this now. I hope. Goodnight.

:: Anne 9:34 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I've been neglectful, yes. So many things are coming down the pike right now that I'm doing some serious juggling. (I mean, I still have to reschedule that root canal -- the temporary cement isn't going to hold that crown on forever!) After working many hours this last week, I finally took time out for some R&R and went to a birthday party. It was nice -- set just far enough out to feel like the country. The house is a geodesic dome with several triangular skylights. At one point, I managed to escape out onto the deck for a few minutes of quiet stargazing while sipping my beer. It was exactly what I needed to feel as though I could go inside and be social with people I knew either very little or not at all. And I was home by ten. So I spent some time with my guitar and went to bed.

Today, the partner has gone on an excursion to see friends in a nearby town. So I've had a pretty quiet day so far. I have put off my chores and taught myself some new music. This morning I baked some banana bread -- just in time, too, as the bananas I'd been saving really were beginning to look and smell like compost. Tomorrow it's back to work for probably another six days. Beginning about now and all the way up until September is "prime time" for annual leave, so we subs work our asses off this time of year. Well, that's okay, mama's got a big fat student loan to pay. Nice that it's staying lighter later, too, so it feels as though there's more time, even if there isn't.

Less than two months until the big concert, and there's still so much work to do.

:: Anne 5:57 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

How can the American public respect a president who incorrectly pronounces the name of the weapons with which he is so desperately obsessed as "nuke-u-lar"?? Damn.

:: Anne 9:35 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Well, my partner has been off on a trip, so I have been kind of a bachelor(ette) -- y'know, eating pizza, leaving the dishes until morning, not folding my laundry, that sort of stuff. I had a surprise day off yesterday, which was cool -- I tackled some of the more engaging (and this means, of course, more enjoyable, too, right?) chores like "G.I.-ing" the bathroom and pruning the yard foliage down to naked sticks. Only now I need a truck to haul away all of the debris.

Dreams have returned to me, it seems. I think they disappear when I'm sleep-deprived for long periods, but now I must be getting the rest I need, because they're back. I had another dream about the choir members. This time we were all sharing a house down in New Orleans for Mardi Gras (which is today -- how timely, only this dream occurred a few nights ago). I was outside in front of the house trying to get back in, but I didn't have a key. Most of the choir members were gone, downtown at the celebration. Then two of the choir members (one of them a director) pulled up in their van -- they were just leaving, too. I asked for a key, and the choir director placed five guitar picks in the palm of my hand and told me that, using those, I could find a way to get back into the house. Then they left. Hmm. And dangit, I didn't remain asleep long enough to see exactly how that could be done. That would have been cool. Well, my brain was responsible for the dream, so I would imagine it would have worked out some sort of solution, as it has in the past. The ideas that sometimes surface in my dreams can only be described as bizarre. Once I wrote a paper (in a dream) on the death inherent in Susan Sontag's photography. I can still remember a couple of physics diagrams (two of them I have written down in one of my journals somewhere) from the series of physics dreams I had for a couple of years. Then there are the music dreams, which come in all manners and shapes. And the rest of them are usually teeming with interpersonal dynamics, implications and such. I remember once in a dream, my mother had bought me a car as my inheritance (a teal-colored Saturn... ew) and gave my brother the house. I was mad because I thought she got it backwards, but in reality it was I who created the dream backwards like that. I think I most enjoy the quality of dreams that allows me to explore situations without real consequences. In the many flying dreams I have had, I have definitely had my share of crack-ups, but never seem to suffer any kind of physical infirmities or pain. That's pretty neat.

:: Anne 5:06 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I should begin by saying that recent events have catapulted me into the "not myself" zone. Yesterday, my partner received the news that a brother had passed away. There is talk of flying back East for the services. Here, it was another beautifully clear day in paradise -- so cool and dry that I had a nosebleed during the evening collections run and had to be replaced in the middle of the run. Then the usual ensuing killer headache and lightheadedness. And now I'm nearly human again.

Sunday I lost another entire day to creativity... again. Convinced myself that arranging and recording a cover of a Bob Dylan song was a good idea. It didn't turn out too badly, but I need to redo some of the vocals, as some of those tracks were laid down during the morning "raspy" period.

Yesterday, I delivered a swing in a neighborhood of what I like to call "mortuary homes." Usually set in quiet neighborhoods with wide streets, these homes have the usual expansive sculpted front yards, but are set apart by their lifelessness, their sparseness, and the use of concrete. They tend to be wide, single-level homes that have the boring affluent-and-built-in-the-fifties Brady-bunch fronts with slab-like "mortuary doors." These are commonly a double-doored entrance, but sometimes I spot them in carports marking strange outdoor utility closets. To me, they look like the intake entrance of a mortuary. No one is ever home at these places. And it kind of gives me the creeps. In fact, as I approached one of the homes, a large, dead robin lay in the center of the concrete porch a few feet from the perfectly clean, reflective living room window. These neighboorhoods exist in pockets all over the city -- in the western hills, south hills, and across the bridge near the border of another town -- which tells you about when the city hit its development peak. Anyway, whenever I end up in one of these neighborhoods, I enter a kind of eerie surreal slow motion curiosity, and sometimes when I approach one of the homes, I imagine that it smells slightly off. Hmm.

Then I had this dream about being in a field near where the Country Fair is held each year, with the choir members. We were competing in some sort of relay thing, though I think it was somehow connected to our upcoming Spring retreat, because we seemed to have a few periods where we were just sitting around together in the outdoors (but there were some couches...) and hanging out, talking. And there was one particular choir member who seemed to be at my side most of the time, laughing with me, sitting next to me, running with me -- not someone I know particularly well. With dreams, I always try to discern what it is I'm trying to tell myself. Perhaps in this one it's just that I'd like to casually hang out with this person? Maybe it's that, right now, I'd be happy to be able to casually hang out with anybody, as it seems I never get to do that much anymore. *sigh* Well, they're still a couple of months off, but now I'm really looking forward to my vacation weeks.

:: Anne 9:32 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

On days like today, I love my job (even more than usual). The sun shone, but the temperature stayed on the cool side; this is how it has been lately -- just enough to coax the first spring buds to flower. The crocuses and daffodils have been up for a couple of weeks, and now the plum and apple trees have begun to flower all over town. A slight gust of wind lifts the snowy petals and the green smell of growth rises into the cool spring air. I was downtown in the early afternoon -- it was just a big hang-out scene. Around Cafe Paradiso and the music and book stores on Olive and Willamette Streets, I could hear the laughter, the sounds of conversation as I walked. The scent of Nag Champa is familiar in this town during the warmer months -- and though I usually despise patchouli, especially if it is used merely to cover up "the great unwashed," today I found it strangely comforting. A sign, I suppose, that we've made it through another winter.

I spent the day buoyed just a little from the night I had last night at Reading in the Rain. The choir's performance went well, yes. I was too fatigued to do anything social afterward, but I enjoyed seeing all my old buddies from B&N and the college bookstore. Mostly, though, I partook of a kind of comraderie that existed within the choir (including between us and the other choirs) -- sort of a "we're all in this together" thing. There are so many people in the choir I'd like to get to know better. I just hate that my time is so restricted right now. I feel torn. An old friend from Seattle whom I haven't seen in years is going to be down here at the coast all of next weekend, and I'm fighting with myself over hopping in the car just to see her for a few hours. That's the kind of thing I'll pressure myself about until either I do it or the time to do it has passed. "How'm I gonna keep myself away from me?" -- Counting Crows

:: Anne 6:36 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Energy still sapped today, I popped an old favorite into the DVD player and watched (for probably the tenth time) American Beauty. Wow. I'd love to share a jay with Kevin Spacey and Wes Bentley and just shoot the shit. Of course, that would change the ol' guy-to-guy dynamic, but ideally, it'd be right up there in the top ten things I'd like to do on a rainy night. I kept noticing also how sparkling clean everything is in the movie. That's not an accident. Good foil for dirty inner lives. But it made me want to get up and clean my house... and also get my hands on some more new music. Joseph Arthur, for one, and I'm still waiting for the next Elliott Smith album.

:: Anne 6:43 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

Laid Out. That's what I've been the past three days. It's not so much that it knocks you suddenly off your feet, but that it saps your energy until you find you just can't get up anymore. You know you're sick when you never pee -- you just sweat everything out. Well, I'm feeling nearly human again, and thinking I'll be able to return to work in the morning if I'm not too wiped out. I think I needed this little slow-down to put things back into perspective. It's easy to put things on automatic instead of exercising the mindfulness of "here and now" necessary to take pleasure in life's ordinary motions. Made my cat deliriously happy to have me around so much, too. It's not that I would have chosen to live a busy life; that's just how it's going to be for a little while. But when something takes the film and slows it down to a frame-by-frame, you remember how you used to enjoy more silences, move a little slower, and the word "multi-tasking" was not quite in your active vocabulary yet. Once you get over your resistence to an oncoming cold, and surrender yourself to its ability to put the brakes on your life, and therefore your responsibilities, you experience a kind of release that allows you the freedom to relax. Acceptance sets in and you can again take in life's little close-ups. (Please excuse my sliding back and forth between first and second person, here; I don't feel quite up to the stuffiness -- no pun -- of throwing everything into the "proper" third person objective.)

I did get to watch a couple of DVD's I'd been wanting to see. The Bourne Identity wasn't bad -- pretty slick fast-moving eye-candy stuff. And The Minority Report was all that and more -- very polished, crouched atop moral dilemmas and precariously balanced philosophies. Anyway, they kept me entertained when I wasn't dozing. I have also been enjoying the latest Chris Robinson and David Gray CD's. Ah, the healing power of music. Gave myself a break from Morning Edition and the evening news, too, so I'm blissfully out of touch with the world's latest evils as well. And I did call and cancel my dental appointment for Monday -- how can they work on my teeth if I can't breathe through my nose? And lo and behold, while I wasn't looking, they paid us again today. We like that. I'm going to have to get serious about researching long-term investments.

:: Anne 11:08 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

As it turns out, I did very little on that list Sunday. But I found this great program and tinkered around with that for a couple of hours. AtomixMp3 lets you mix, add effects to, and and beatmatch mp3s DJ-style. The trial program can be had at Cnet.com.

This morning, fog has engulfed the city and I have no desire to go out into it. My throat is on fire and I know it's only the beginning of the "killer gunk" that has been spreading through the city, this winter's plague. I went out last night after work and picked up all manner of healthful supplies in anticipation. Well, I hope it hits me fast so I can get over it by next week so I can participate in the choir's performance. Today's battle will involve staying warm enough out there to assist my body temperature in beating back the invader. If I am still sick by next Monday, I'll just have to cancel that root canal. Drag, man.

:: Anne 8:43 AM [smartass remarks] ::
...

There's little that's sweeter than the anticipation of a day off with almost no plans. I have the following solitary pursuits from which to choose:

1. Clearing the yard of winter debris and doing some much-needed pruning in the clear, cold air. (Likely for a short morning stint, with coffee in hand.)
2. Doing a Murphy's Oil Soap number on the floors. (Hmm, not too likely, but maybe if it rains....)
3. Filtering through the foot-high stack of papers that need filing. (Maybe for half an hour.)
4. Guitar practice (Quite likely, and I'll probably have to limit that to a couple of hours.)
5. Finessing the 4 recordings that are nearly releasable. (Unlikely -- that's usually an all-day thing.)
6. Mounting hooks in the shed to hang up some of the power tools. (Can you see it hanging heavily over my head?)

And then, the possible social pursuits are too many to list -- among them are the digital cataloguing of mom's recent series of sculptures (which requires a quick jaunt out of town), friends awaiting return calls, the housemate search (ick), the girlfriend, the brother, and a couple of people who need tutorials on various computer programs or functions. I hope to find a happy amalgam of these lists tomorrow. Damn, I hate having only one (definite) day off a week. A person needs two -- one to do the work that's been neglected all week, and the other to relax. I'm becoming an expert at time theft -- mostly from myself -- here and there; I have the "multi-tasking" disease. And tonight? Probably the brother. One down. Crossing people off of the list of things to do as though they were tasks... that sure is sad.

:: Anne 6:47 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...

I regret that this will not be an auspicious beginning. A weblog is a somewhat narcissistic pursuit in itself; I hope that in this case, however, it will be a place where those who know me can "check in" when they wonder if I still walk the earth. To those of you who still wonder, thank you.

:: Anne 11:20 PM [smartass remarks] ::
...