Author: sat

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terror and joy

is it possible that we make our lives small because all the opportunities and richness and potentiality are just… overwhelming? terrifying? maybe we are afraid that our own lives will drown us if we enter them fully.

sometimes I see these little glimpses, this verge, right there… and I– step back. it so stops my heart– or starts it pounding in the most disturbing way. of course, I must collect myself. I must have myself well in hand. I turn away. hesitate and then the moment passes away.

this horace quotation that came to me in a.word.a.day recently is just kicking my ass all over the place lately–

He who postpones the hour of living is like the rustic who waits for the river to run out before he crosses.”
-Horace, poet and satirist (65-8 BCE)

I feel like I’m standing on that river bank, just waiting, so afraid to get wet– and the river keeps running by, just laughing and crying at me hanging there as if there were such a thing as the opportune moment. there is grace in diving.

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revelation

sometimes it visits us at odd hours, in surprising guises, sneaking up and tapping us on the shoulder with its groucho marx glasses in place and whispering all sneaky-like into our ears while we’re in the midst of doing something totally silly and slapdash… but whenever wisdom deigns to sneak on through, I feel we should make space to acknowledge the grace of its passing. and so. on the tail end of my gazillionth round with insomnia and the latest cl experiment, I suddenly know this: there is no reason on earth that I should waste my good energy, angst or time on people who themselves make little or no effort. whew. the smartest things are damn obvious. and now, I’m going to make friends with my pillow for a few last minutes of darkness. ta ta for now.

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facebook can bite me

okay, yeah, I’ve been awake for a few of the wrong hours, so maybe my patience and tact are a mite slim. and I like having a sheep thrown at me as much as the next person. but seriously. facebook’s annoyance quotient has gone seriously through the roof with all the quizzes (half of which won’t even let you see your results until you’ve spammed 10 other people, the fckers) and FUNWALL and hooha and crap. so that’s it. I’m done. if I don’t respond to your movie challenges or guess the latest celebrity couple critical contests, please don’t take it personally. I’ve just decided that facebook is the antichrist.

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jeeeeeeeezus

people. I seriously don’t get how they think sometimes. it just amazes me. like this most recent nugget:

so, in a fit of annoyance over not knowing how to expand my social network to include male friends and also friends who like to get out and do things like go on photo excursions in abandoned buildings (where, to be frank, it is somewhat comforting to have a male presence), I posted an ad in the the “strictly platonic” section of craigslist last night describing said desire, plain and simple. and, simply because craigslist provides a space for you to include your age, I figured, fair enough, and included my age. no big deal.

now, I can see from scanning other ads that some people do in fact use this “strictly platonic” area to make inquiries that are, if you read not too terribly deeply between the lines, little more than hedged searches for romantic partners. so, okay. that’s out there, even though I wasn’t doing it. seriously.

so anyway, this one guy writes back to me, nothing else first, just launches in with the following: “41… Thats old as hell, but yea. Im always on foto excursions. Lets get on it!”

[channeling arlo guthrie a la alice’s restaurant massacree– take that for old, ya pip]

I mean. I mean. I meeeeeaaaannnn, come ON, buddy– how can that seem at all okay?

just, jesus.

sometimes I think to myself, man, sarah, you’re so silly to get bent out of shape about age– you know how relative and meaningless it is. but then something like this comes along and sucker-punches the wind right out of me– and I have to wonder just what the hell is wrong with people? I mean (I meeeean), why even bother replying? why, um, hel-lo, say yes??

totally weird.

ahem.

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(oh, and just so you don’t think I’m all bile and hate, some of the responses have been very pleasant indeed, some of the correspondence even downright delightful– so, yeah, it’s a mixed bag and all. I just had to put my sense of righteous outrage at people’s stupidity and rudeness someplace. thankyouandgoodnight. no turkey for someone, that‘s for sure.)

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melinda me

tomorrow (well, today, officially) I will cook the turkey I received from work for last thanksgiving. it’s been sitting in my freezer, taking up a whole bunch of space, and earlier today (well, yesterday— dang, insomnia makes things confusing) I decided the time had come to put old tom in the oven, so now he’s thawing. I’m only one rather small person, so I’m feeling a bit like shel silverstein’s melinda mae… actually, that goes for a lot of things right now.

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fyi– challenges!

the things I cannot state publicly– we’re also cheap, hypercritical, idiosyncratic, prone to severe attention deficit, overreactive, narcissistic, and… oh, what else? cheap. did I mention cheap? and also occasionally crazily extravagant.

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the eeeeeeeevil time of day

for a navelgazer at least. in winter’s dark and cold. and then the bad fm radio deejays out to keell me with neil young’s “out of the blue and into the black” and pink floyd’s “time”. bastages.

bring on many glasses of wine, I say!

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random life stuff

twice in the last few days I’ve had people remark to me on how I’m always moving, work hard, etc.– this from random  folks who have no real stake one way or another in flattering or insulting or really passing any sort of judgment– they’re just commenting on something that looks weird and noteworthy to them, one of the the samples ladies, one of the shipping guys– and I’m sure part of it is cultural: I’m a whitegirl, driven by that ingrained protestant work ethic fer shizzle; but part of it is also personal– I’m just like that– a few years ago I articulated it for the first time: I have two speeds, Go and Idle. lately I’ve been spending my downtime in wicked Idle, like seriously– mostly hanging out in bed, reading, snacking, watching movies, reading and reading some more, snoozing. and then I get up and Go again. lately I’ve been thinking a bit about how I don’t do all of this very strategically or smartly– I could, say, take some of that downtime and allocate it to rather less down activities, in my own interests, say, improving myself, my station in the world, and so on. I’m quite sure that a lot of other people with my amount of education are working a lot smarter than I am, and this troubles me somewhat, that I runrunrun but not to any particularly chosen or outlined ends, only expending energy and then recovering and doing it all over again. but, too, this is a particular phase– I am nothing if not superduper phasey. generally speaking, the last few days I’ve felt remarkably calmer and more peaceful and even happy with the course of my life– it’s nothing that I’ve envisioned or plotted or planned and it’s awfully hairbrained and kind of pointless in some ways and could use some tweaking and tucking, but really, yknow what? it fits. this is the way I am. and it’s not all bad. hello, perspective from today.

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random pet stuff

I was just lying here in bed, browsing around the neighborhood, with charlie tuna purring away on my shoulder as is customary, when in barged iggy for some pets and love. this is his m.o.– he’s queenly and standoffish until he’s ready and then by golly you’d better be ready. for several years this only happened while I was sitting on the couch, and preferably late in the evening– only recently, since the new mattress on the floor which george now braves, does iggy follow his lead and come to demand his pets from me here. he’s a funny cat– he was the lone survivor of some farm kittens whose mother died, and in those early days he was tiny and ferocious– nearly feral, I suppose, so in part I feel that living with him is a kind of slow process of taming. he’s got this long luxurious fur that’s crazy soft and clings like the dickens to anything– your nose, clothes, furniture, hand while petting, itself– and he requires grooming, as the shorthair charlie tuna does not (but likes it)– iggy looooooves to be brushed, which is a good thing, as he gets wicked mats– I’m unable to keep on top of them, but I try a bit and then throw up my hands to lion cut in the summer– it’s like starting from scratch, like a cat crew cut after a chewing gum episode. I tend to gently, lovingly manhandle my pets– I pick up the cats whenever I feel like it, cradle them like babies, carry them around for a bit, then put them down again, so they’re used to handling– I also give them their space to meander, but I feel that some amount of cuddling is required for any being’s optimal health– and I forget and am sometimes rudely reminded that others have different sorts of relationships with their pets– not too long ago while staying at a friend’s house I unthinkingly bent down and picked up her young cat and got a freakout and faceful of claws into the bargain, only belatedly realizing that of course she would maintain a more respectful personal space policy with her cat, she’s like that. I have a hard time not rescuing or adopting every stray I see or hear about– that is simply the cloth I am cut from– but having gone the rounds with way more big dogs than I can actually afford to feed and care for, I’ve now set a limit of three creatures at a time for myself. which is not to say that I wouldn’t love to also have a parrot and some goats and some chickens and several more dogs and some more of those awesome swoopy goldfish and a koi pond and a cow and a horse to ride and heck may an elephant or two. if I ever win the lottery maybe I’ll become one of those weird old eccentrics with a live menagerie. but for now I’ve got my boys, and they make my home and life much brighter, more companionable, amusing, hairy, and warm.