Until I was about ten, I believed I had a small man in a bowler hat and a sweater vest living in my stomach. He had a mustache and a cane. When my stomach growled it was him, pissed off and creating a ruckus about something or other. He was the last of my funny little childhood beliefs. One day I was thinking about him, and in a moment of growing-up-suddenly, I realized that I had been believing in something silly.
Last year at this time, I was living without electricity and about to enter one of the most depressed winters of my life. After the October storm, the broken trees of Buffalo really set the tone for my entire winter. I was out of sorts and blue.
I realized this evening how different things feel this year. Today I wandered into Pier One Imports and discovered my beloved ginger peach candles are back. So, I am currently sitting on the couch, basking in my favorite smell, alternately crocheting and clacking away at my computer, with the soft sounds of a meaningless (to me) hockey game keeping me company. I'm utterly content.
Life is good.
Last night I had one of those intense dreams where you have to go back to college, but you aren't prepared. Unlike the typical back-to-school dreams, I mostly had my shit together. I mean, I knew where all my classes were, I had all my books, I knew my locker combination, and I was fully clothed. The trouble in this particular dream was that I didn't know where I was going to store all the stuff that I currently own once I moved into a dorm room.
I had an anxiety dream about owning too many things.
Only in America.
Today was one of those days when each hour brings some new reminder to stay alert. Several times today I wanted to curl up and be sad, and several times I was reminded of why I should chose to be grateful. At one point a total stranger made me feel furious and hurt, and later a different stranger's tragedy made me ache with empathy and sorrow. One stranger threatened my perspective, and another restored it.
It was an even day. For me.
It's not always this way.
1. Mountains or beaches?
2. Internet or television?
3. Dogs or cats?
So there you were, just a lonely lady astronaut.
People don't understand just how hard it is. You worked so hard, for so long. People kept telling you that going up into space was a ridiculous dream- a childish dream, but you kept at it. You kept at it because you wanted to see earth from above. You wanted to be weightless. You wanted to become an astronaut. Against all odds, you did it. You became an astronaut. You went to the space station. You saw the earth from the sky. It was amazing.
Then you got back, and suddenly everything was so...flat.
You have a very hard time dating because, well, you're an astronaut now. It's hard to find a guy that isn't intimidated by your profession. There really aren't too many jobs sexier and cooler than "astronaut". When you first meet a guy, you try to avoid the topic of your profession. You even tried lying about it a few times, but eventually, they always found out. That one guy, the dog trainer, he stopped talking to you once he found out, claiming that "Ms. Rocket Scientist Alien Chaser" was too snobby to date a lowly earth-walking man. It was humiliating. Humiliating and infuriating. The world does not treat male astronauts this way.
You had all but given up on men.
Then, you met him. You had heard the stories about him. He was quite the ladies man, using his job title to his full advantage. At first you didn't really like him- you found him a bit arrogant. But he was so funny. You didn't expect that from him. Usually astronauts are so stiff and regimented- obsessed with science and protocol and proper diets, that sort of thing. He wasn't like that. He was goofy and fun. He grew on you. Finally, here was a guy who understood. He understood everything that you had been through and sacrificed for NASA. He had the same interests and dreams. One time, the two of you went out for drinks and talked about what it felt like to be up there, looking down on all of your earthly troubles. Talking to him like that.... it brought you back. Talking and laughing with this man could return you to the weightless freedom of space. It was breathtaking. You loved this man because he understood your perspective. He had seen earth from the sky too.
It had the makings of a great love story.
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Sooooo, then you got some pepper spray, and some adult diapers.
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It's a tale as old as time.
Lately, every time I sit down to write a blog post I end up writing something snarky. It's weird because I don't feel snarky these days. Mostly, I just feel sort of quiet.
I just want to be nice for awhile.
In 1988 Yellowstone National Park suffered terrible forest fires. Almost 800,000 acres of land were effected by fires that summer.
When I was out west last August, Amy, Robin and I spent a day visiting Yellowstone. I had never been to Yellowstone before, and I have to admit I was sort of shocked. The park is very visibly scarred from the fires. Huge sections of forest, entire mountains, are covered in a combination of burned trees, and new smaller pine trees. It is terrifying to imagine what it must have been like, all of that beautiful forest, on fire. The image is haunting, and to me, unbelievably sad. I felt very out of sorts in the park. I wanted to see Yellowstone healthy and huge, not burned and broken.
Then, Robin told me one of the most soothing things I have ever heard.
Apparently, there is a bug in Yellowstone that eats trees, killing them, and creating acres of dead, dry trees. When these trees are struck by lightening, they easily catch on fire. Most forest fires are naturally occurring, and they are a healthy part of the life of a forest. In the case of Yellowstone, there is a certain kind of tree that creates a certain kind of pine cone that can only open up in very high heat. These pine cones create the seeds that create new trees. So, in order to get new trees, you need a forest fire.
Isn't that amazing?
After I learned all of this I felt so much better. What was incredibly sad one minute, was suddenly awe inspiring the next.
It really helps a girl's outlook when she can see the forest through the burnt trees.
When I was about thirteen I started taking my viola lessons from Alice Preves. For a few months, Alice worked almost exclusively on my vibrato. I did hours and hours of vibrato exercises but nothing seemed to work. Every lesson, we would cover the same material, over and over.
Then, one day in string orchestra at St. Catherine's Quartet Seminar, like magic, I could vibrato. I have a distinct memory of looking down at my hand and suddenly understanding what Alice had been trying to teach me all those weeks. To this day I can remember the feeling of finally just doing what I had been trying to do for so long. It was really strange. I swear to God, I learned how to vibrato in an instant. One minute I couldn't do it at all, and the next minute I could do it completely. It was as if a switch had been flipped in my brain.
This is how I tend to learn important things- in a sudden flash of understanding.
I have noticed two things about this phenomena. Firstly, every time I learn something this way it changes my life forever, and secondly, it is always something utterly and amusingly obvious. It is never new information I receive in a sudden burst of understanding, in fact, it's quite the opposite- it is old information, finally sinking in.
It occurs to me that recently I have really been searching for answers. Maybe I am just trying too hard. Maybe, I'm not leaving enough room for a sudden burst of old fashioned, utterly mundane, life changing epiphany.
Look at this amazing photo of a building in New York being power washed.
This is how I feel lately, only I can't tell if I'm on the clean side or the dirty side. I can't tell what is real, and what is just layers and layers of mental pollution.
I need a power wash for my brain.
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*Update
This is for Mr. Kelley Polar. Ask in comments, and ye shall receive....
How's that for some ghetto photoshopping?
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