I worked on the bathroom sink for 3 hours tonight and nothing fixed it. I snaked, I plunged, I tried baking soda and vinegar, I used the rest of the all-natural sink declogger, and nothing seemed to do the trick. In fact, last I checked it was way worse than when I started.
Waiting for something to happen, I stare at the stagnant water. My thoughts short circuit. I guess I could call a handyman. But it's late. I'm so tired. I don't want to call a handyman. I don't want Roto-Rooter to come over. Shit! Wait...are they still even open? Well...even if they are, I don't want them coming over. No way. Oh man. How are we supposed to deal with that? No one's coming in! I could call D, but wait... should he come over? That's risky; maybe i shouldn't. Will I get coronavirus if a plumber comes over? But I might get coronavirus if this doesn't drain and all that shmootz sits in there....Which is worse, risking coronavirus or... shit...how are people handling this...?
As the options narrow, how so will my mind? How many thoughts will I have to forfeit before I forget how to think it through?
Tuesday, March 31, 2020
Sunday, March 29, 2020
Corn Tortilla Pizza
For dinner.
Brocoli was salad.
Whole Foods Fresh is on the way with greens. Jubilation.
That and the people we smiled and waved to on the walk today, many feet away, appeared in Technicolor. I've never quite experienced human beings that way before, like a beautiful sunset. I'm so tempted to get closer and look, touch, smell, talk. But that would be no bueno.
I hear the lady downstairs from Amazon. She calls. She's chatty. I so desperately want to invite her in.
Why have I never invited her in before?
Brocoli was salad.
Whole Foods Fresh is on the way with greens. Jubilation.
That and the people we smiled and waved to on the walk today, many feet away, appeared in Technicolor. I've never quite experienced human beings that way before, like a beautiful sunset. I'm so tempted to get closer and look, touch, smell, talk. But that would be no bueno.
I hear the lady downstairs from Amazon. She calls. She's chatty. I so desperately want to invite her in.
Why have I never invited her in before?
Saturday, March 28, 2020
Is it Just Me?
Or is anyone else spending a little more downtime in the bathroom these days?
Somedays it feels really crowded in this house. But whom'm I kidding? They find me in here, too. These boys that I love more than anything always know where to find me, no matter where I'm hiding.
Somedays it feels really crowded in this house. But whom'm I kidding? They find me in here, too. These boys that I love more than anything always know where to find me, no matter where I'm hiding.
One Giant Leap
Things I did today I thought I'd never do:
Open a Paypal account
Order groceries online
Join a live kirtan on Facebook
Join a shamanic healing ritual live on Facebook
Marvel at the velocity of remote control racecars rocketing up and down the hills of the neighborhood park
Use the term "where are those kids' parents?" upon observing a pack of teens playing basketball in plain sight
Sanitize the mail
Sanitize the groceries
Allow homemade vanilla crack frosting as a stand alone food
Wash the garlic with soap and water
Use only 1/3 sheet of paper towel per use
Manage to use every device at once among us to figure out how to get the Internet mirrored on the Smart TV and still fuck it up
Tell my son to go house party with granny
Dread spring
Blame Coronavirus for my hot flashes
Contemplate the practicalities of what would happen if I die
Accept the fact that there are no more greens in the fridge
Eat frozen peas
Like frozen peas
Love frozen peas
Wonder where frozen peas have been my whole life
All for the greater good
Open a Paypal account
Order groceries online
Join a live kirtan on Facebook
Join a shamanic healing ritual live on Facebook
Marvel at the velocity of remote control racecars rocketing up and down the hills of the neighborhood park
Use the term "where are those kids' parents?" upon observing a pack of teens playing basketball in plain sight
Sanitize the mail
Sanitize the groceries
Allow homemade vanilla crack frosting as a stand alone food
Wash the garlic with soap and water
Use only 1/3 sheet of paper towel per use
Manage to use every device at once among us to figure out how to get the Internet mirrored on the Smart TV and still fuck it up
Tell my son to go house party with granny
Dread spring
Blame Coronavirus for my hot flashes
Contemplate the practicalities of what would happen if I die
Accept the fact that there are no more greens in the fridge
Eat frozen peas
Like frozen peas
Love frozen peas
Wonder where frozen peas have been my whole life
All for the greater good
Thursday, March 26, 2020
Glitch
Almost everyone I know is breaking down. That seems like the normal response. Yesterday was my day.
After a full week of internet and Zoom immersion, worlds are starting to blend.
"You're glitching," I tell Noah as we stand together in the kitchen late last night. His face appears to be smudging and it seems his words are caught, snagged on the leg of the couch in the living room, and I'm waiting for him to fully download.
Outside, I'm attuned to the dissonance, the grinding fragmented metal that so closely emulates the frightening sounds I never knew technology could make. When Jude clears his throat, or when Lola scratches her post, I anticipate a total shutdown, a pause in life's forward momentum, as I watch the lifeless wheel turn and turn and turn to no end, a courier of despair.
I don't like this. I don't like that this is now my personal work, my practice to show up for. And this is why yesterday was such a hard day.
It made me a careless mother, the worst sort of mother. You don't want to know. It brought up my self-loathing, all the handed down feelings I could never hold growing up as a child. Once again, I am confined to a position of having to love and depend on something that cannot love me back.
My mom was glitchy. I love her freely now. You know this. But all those laggy feelings are coming back.
Today is better. I'm taking a technology break, mostly. And I'm syncing up with all the joy i can in the moment. You want to know something?
Yesterday, after being with Noah for almost eight years, I heard him say his Facebook password aloud to Jude so he could hook us up for our Zumba class. I won't tell you what it was, but it was akin to "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood."
"It's good to have happy reminders as much as I can", he when I jump for joy, "a good way to talk to myself."
My love for him infinitized.
I am taking refuge in the vitalality of these micro moments, so renewing....and remembering that sometimes the unexpected, the unprecedented, is quite, quite wonderful.
After a full week of internet and Zoom immersion, worlds are starting to blend.
"You're glitching," I tell Noah as we stand together in the kitchen late last night. His face appears to be smudging and it seems his words are caught, snagged on the leg of the couch in the living room, and I'm waiting for him to fully download.
Outside, I'm attuned to the dissonance, the grinding fragmented metal that so closely emulates the frightening sounds I never knew technology could make. When Jude clears his throat, or when Lola scratches her post, I anticipate a total shutdown, a pause in life's forward momentum, as I watch the lifeless wheel turn and turn and turn to no end, a courier of despair.
I don't like this. I don't like that this is now my personal work, my practice to show up for. And this is why yesterday was such a hard day.
It made me a careless mother, the worst sort of mother. You don't want to know. It brought up my self-loathing, all the handed down feelings I could never hold growing up as a child. Once again, I am confined to a position of having to love and depend on something that cannot love me back.
My mom was glitchy. I love her freely now. You know this. But all those laggy feelings are coming back.
Today is better. I'm taking a technology break, mostly. And I'm syncing up with all the joy i can in the moment. You want to know something?
Yesterday, after being with Noah for almost eight years, I heard him say his Facebook password aloud to Jude so he could hook us up for our Zumba class. I won't tell you what it was, but it was akin to "it's a beautiful day in the neighborhood."
"It's good to have happy reminders as much as I can", he when I jump for joy, "a good way to talk to myself."
My love for him infinitized.
I am taking refuge in the vitalality of these micro moments, so renewing....and remembering that sometimes the unexpected, the unprecedented, is quite, quite wonderful.
Tuesday, March 24, 2020
Your internet connection is unstable
Is that really the best word choice right now?
Of course everything is always unstable. But most of the time we at least have the illusion of stability, that things are under control. Now that it's obvious, do I really need my computer to be the one to tell me what is?
I Zoom with my therapist. Knowing ourselves as much as we can, what can we each do to support and maintain our own inner stability? What is the plan? What is the stability plan?
Writing this morning with the Tuesday gals. The stress of technology, with all its glitches, with my unpreparedness and the codependency is profound. Unprecedented.
It took forever to get there, to see you face face-to-face. But it's worth it for the writing. Every single time, no matter how hard it is to get there, it's so worth it for the writing.
Of course everything is always unstable. But most of the time we at least have the illusion of stability, that things are under control. Now that it's obvious, do I really need my computer to be the one to tell me what is?
I Zoom with my therapist. Knowing ourselves as much as we can, what can we each do to support and maintain our own inner stability? What is the plan? What is the stability plan?
Writing this morning with the Tuesday gals. The stress of technology, with all its glitches, with my unpreparedness and the codependency is profound. Unprecedented.
It took forever to get there, to see you face face-to-face. But it's worth it for the writing. Every single time, no matter how hard it is to get there, it's so worth it for the writing.
Monday, March 23, 2020
Another humbling conversation with T Mobile
I just got off the phone with T-Mobile after trying to get a hold of them all day, which was akin to a technological Olympic event. How do you get a live person anymore? I need it like air. No glitches, no lags, no typos, just you and me.
I was panicking because my high speed Hotspot is endangered. I'm not the most patient person when it comes to customer service, especially when you have to over explain the issue, repeat the password you keep forgetting, and wait on hold for seemingly simple straightforward answers. Add the pressure of Coronavirus and you've got a real live plot, the tension threatening to reveal who will be the protagonist and who will be the antagonist in this situation; in these uncertain times, a phone call is rarely just a phone call.
I don't know exactly when in the conversation it occurred to me that I wasn't really talking to "Tmobile," but rather to an actual person dealing with the exact same thing we're all dealing with. He, too, is scared. He, too, has a family. He, too, is not immune. I realized that right now, everyone, everywhere, has something in common, something to talk about, no matter the language. I could literally pick up the phone and call anyone, anywhere, and not be a stranger.
"How are y'all doing over there?" I said, when we finished our business, suddenly ravenous for chitchat. I've loved getting personal with strangers on the phone ever since I was a kid calling the weatherman. "Are you all staying healthy?"
Oh yes yes, we sure are, he said, lots of lemons and lots of vitamin C.
His voice cut out at "lemons" so I had to ask him if I heard him right. I didn't want to miss out on any hope for the taking. "Vitamin C and what?"
Lemons, he said, lots of lemons. What about you guys?"
I immediately pictured my mother's lemon tree waiting for me just outside my bedroom growing up in Los Angeles. All those lovely blossoms. "Well that's good to hear," I said. We're fine, I said, we're in Minnesota. We're hanging in there. Where are you? I asked.
"Were in the Philippines," he said. I thought about the neighbors I grew up with from Guam and the Filipino guy I worked with at the frozen yogurt shop, The Big Chill, who I had such an enormous crush on, who I still think about to this day. I wonder where he is. I wonder where they are.
"Oh," I said, "isn't that something? That's quite a long ways from here," I said. Please stay healthy. Thank you so much for coming to work today.
Well, he said, no no no. You stay healthy. You guys stay healthy... that's the important thing.
Well, I said, let's all stay healthy.
Yes, he said, "absolutely you are right, let's all stay healthy." He sounded bright, full of sunshine, like a lemon tree. I was certain I could see him, young and tall.
There was so much more to talk about.
I wanted to ask him about his life and his kids and if he knew about the dancing prison and what his life was like. I pictured a shanty, whether that was right or not, but I didn't get to talk to him long enough to find out.
I was panicking because my high speed Hotspot is endangered. I'm not the most patient person when it comes to customer service, especially when you have to over explain the issue, repeat the password you keep forgetting, and wait on hold for seemingly simple straightforward answers. Add the pressure of Coronavirus and you've got a real live plot, the tension threatening to reveal who will be the protagonist and who will be the antagonist in this situation; in these uncertain times, a phone call is rarely just a phone call.
I don't know exactly when in the conversation it occurred to me that I wasn't really talking to "Tmobile," but rather to an actual person dealing with the exact same thing we're all dealing with. He, too, is scared. He, too, has a family. He, too, is not immune. I realized that right now, everyone, everywhere, has something in common, something to talk about, no matter the language. I could literally pick up the phone and call anyone, anywhere, and not be a stranger.
"How are y'all doing over there?" I said, when we finished our business, suddenly ravenous for chitchat. I've loved getting personal with strangers on the phone ever since I was a kid calling the weatherman. "Are you all staying healthy?"
Oh yes yes, we sure are, he said, lots of lemons and lots of vitamin C.
His voice cut out at "lemons" so I had to ask him if I heard him right. I didn't want to miss out on any hope for the taking. "Vitamin C and what?"
Lemons, he said, lots of lemons. What about you guys?"
I immediately pictured my mother's lemon tree waiting for me just outside my bedroom growing up in Los Angeles. All those lovely blossoms. "Well that's good to hear," I said. We're fine, I said, we're in Minnesota. We're hanging in there. Where are you? I asked.
"Were in the Philippines," he said. I thought about the neighbors I grew up with from Guam and the Filipino guy I worked with at the frozen yogurt shop, The Big Chill, who I had such an enormous crush on, who I still think about to this day. I wonder where he is. I wonder where they are.
"Oh," I said, "isn't that something? That's quite a long ways from here," I said. Please stay healthy. Thank you so much for coming to work today.
Well, he said, no no no. You stay healthy. You guys stay healthy... that's the important thing.
Well, I said, let's all stay healthy.
Yes, he said, "absolutely you are right, let's all stay healthy." He sounded bright, full of sunshine, like a lemon tree. I was certain I could see him, young and tall.
There was so much more to talk about.
I wanted to ask him about his life and his kids and if he knew about the dancing prison and what his life was like. I pictured a shanty, whether that was right or not, but I didn't get to talk to him long enough to find out.
Sunday, March 22, 2020
(Not) Only in LA
I remember the first call from my mother back in early January. She was in Urgent Care at Kaiser Permanente in West Los Angeles, having had a heart scare, which turned out to be a muscle induced panic attack. Nonetheless, as someone with a minor heart condition, she had to wait it out there for the day.
"Jesus", she said "everyone here is wearing all these Masks because of the Coronavirus. It's a madhouse," she said. She told me her roommate was waiting outside, idling in his car, refusing to come inside the hospital to pick her up. I pictured a bunch of lunatics in my hometown wearing scrub colored blue masks walking around the beach. "Only in LA," I said to myself, a familiar reframe about a place where insanity thrives as much as melodrama. I'd been smug in my immunity to it for years.
"What's Coronavirus, Ma?" I said, trying to stifle a grin, assuming it was just another something my mother was overreacting too. "Do we need to worry?"
Saturday, March 21, 2020
A Blessing During Covid-19
This beautiful offering comes from Sophie Krup. We recently met through NextDoor; I was sitting on a neighbor's couch, trying it out for purchase, when in walked the neighbor's cousin, Sophie. We talked and talked. We've been writing together ever since, for about 3 months. And even though it didn't work out with the couch, I'm so grateful I got Sophie instead! May you take refuge in her words as much as I do.
Friday, March 20, 2020
When the World Stops
Today's post if from Anne H of Bloomington, MN. We've been writing together for 9 years. I am so grateful to receive this today. It teaches me I need to work on letting go of so many external pressures that take command of my overall health. I hadn't realized. Thank you, Anne! 💙
“I just need the world to stop for a while,” I’ve cried out that wish thousands of times. Friends and family suggest I work less hours, take time for myself, slow down. Don’t they understand that every moment I slow down I slip further behind? More than one well-meaning psychiatrist has admitted me to the psych ward when I’ve been so overwhelmed with anxiety that my constant shadow of depression eagerly fed off it until dwarfed the anxiety. I felt more overwhelmed in the artificial world behind the locked door of the psych unit as I fell further behind in the real world. I was isolated from that world, while my thoughts were racing through my brain in unending circles reminding me that my car payment was still due in two days, I’m scheduled to start working with a new client next week. I have two appointments I should cancel.
We are in the midst of a crisis like no other that’s affecting this entire planet. Universities and schools across our nation are closing their doors, the stock market is unstable, millions of people are telecommuting. I’ve stopped trying to business - my phone calls end emails are trivial. After looking over my to-do list yesterday I tossed it aside realizing that due dates and deadlines are suspended. Amazon won’t care if I don’t return the smart-plug in the allotted 30 days or six months from now.
Today I realized the world has indeed stopped. It’s even more freeing than I imagined it. I feel lighter without the pressures of the outside world, there’s no sense of urgency as the days pass. I’m not falling behind. My chest is opening up, my lungs fully expanding with my breath, my anxiety lessens.
Maybe when covid-19 is no longer a threat maybe we can look back at what we learned. We don’t need to be able to shop 24-hours a day. Employees don’t have to be in their cubicles eight hours a day, some employees can be much more productive off-site. Less commuting means less driving, less pollution, more efficient use of gas. We can make it through spending less time in restaurants and bars and more time at home. With fewer work deadlines and closed schools, there’s more time to be with family. I’m going to be playing Hockey Trivia and laughing with my daughters this weekend. Will we have a new respect for grocery clerks and police officers who continued to do their jobs?
Be careful what you wish for.
Thursday, March 19, 2020
"My Writing 3/18/20"
This first post comes from Rebecca ("Becky") Anderson of St Paul, Minnesota. We have been writing together Wednesdays, every month, for 10 years.
Hi All,
Hi All,
At this point "shelter in place" (home) fits ok. I like being home. I like sleeping
in and starting my day slowly, around 9:00.
For two days in a row I've made delicious homemade soups for supper.
I cleaned the top oven in the kitchen; gone through the Cedar closet and started
a pile of clothes for the Goodwill, even laundering a couple of fleece vests I didn't
know I owned. I washed the glass globes of the dining room light fixture. They
were filthy. Now they are better.
Yesterday I worked in the yard with John, cleaning up stuff. Then walked by
Lake Como, trying to keep the six foot distance from neighbors we met and
chatted with.
I appreciate the forced down time. For me, it's fine.
But, my heart goes out to the homeless who can't help but get the virus. The families who can't make ends meet; the kids home from school and the teachers having to switch their curriculums to an online courses and to those already in the throes of the disease. This is a ghastly time.
May you all be well.
Becky
In These Uncertain Times
Dear Writers and All Beings Everywhere,
Now is the time to write and share your writing. The gifts of your raw, unedited writing and sharing from the heart right now about your experience with and your relationship to Covid 19 are the wordsong we need now as much as our daily intake of Vitamin C, mindful breathing, friendship to self and others, and whatever else you do to stay peaceful in your body.
Please use this Blog as a place to post/comment on whatever you wish and need to share about Coronavirus and how that is affecting you. Post as much or as little as you wish. Or just read. The Beach is here for you as sanctuary, no matter where you are, no matter what you do or do not write. Retreat here as you always do.
A student of mine referred to the need for a living document of this unprecedented time in history; so be this, a living document of the heart.
No need to edit or fancify. Just keep it raw, from the heart. Be gritty. I know I am. Be mad. Be at peace. Be you. Give advice. Be okay not knowing anything. Just write. And share. Whether it helps or not, whether it sounds poetic or cacophonous, it will help. Leave sentences unfinished. Allow for interruptions. Just write. It will help. Write a line. Write a word. Write a novel. It will help.
The two classes I have so far taught online have gone surprisingly well. It's for now. Seeing my students' faces and/or hearing their voices miraculously pop up via Zoom has lifted me in the same way it always has and always will.
If you would like to comment/add to the things I post, please please do. And, please please send me your writing to post here and I will post it asap. And if not here, post somewhere. Maybe you already are. I'm not around the social media circuit much, not sure where you're all hanging out these days,
As always, looking forward to writing with you soon. Please join me online for classes or on this page. Wherever it is, I'm here, writing with you. Love, Rox
Now is the time to write and share your writing. The gifts of your raw, unedited writing and sharing from the heart right now about your experience with and your relationship to Covid 19 are the wordsong we need now as much as our daily intake of Vitamin C, mindful breathing, friendship to self and others, and whatever else you do to stay peaceful in your body.
Please use this Blog as a place to post/comment on whatever you wish and need to share about Coronavirus and how that is affecting you. Post as much or as little as you wish. Or just read. The Beach is here for you as sanctuary, no matter where you are, no matter what you do or do not write. Retreat here as you always do.
A student of mine referred to the need for a living document of this unprecedented time in history; so be this, a living document of the heart.
No need to edit or fancify. Just keep it raw, from the heart. Be gritty. I know I am. Be mad. Be at peace. Be you. Give advice. Be okay not knowing anything. Just write. And share. Whether it helps or not, whether it sounds poetic or cacophonous, it will help. Leave sentences unfinished. Allow for interruptions. Just write. It will help. Write a line. Write a word. Write a novel. It will help.
The two classes I have so far taught online have gone surprisingly well. It's for now. Seeing my students' faces and/or hearing their voices miraculously pop up via Zoom has lifted me in the same way it always has and always will.
If you would like to comment/add to the things I post, please please do. And, please please send me your writing to post here and I will post it asap. And if not here, post somewhere. Maybe you already are. I'm not around the social media circuit much, not sure where you're all hanging out these days,
As always, looking forward to writing with you soon. Please join me online for classes or on this page. Wherever it is, I'm here, writing with you. Love, Rox
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