I really try to be consistent with my internet presence. For the blog, doing so means that I can consistently produce content, which I hope will matter to my writing, and I am usually going through something specific with the songs.
That means that when I am going on the road I think about the blog posts and the daily songs. When I was doing the Throwback Thursdays, I downloaded the Thursday picture onto my laptop before leaving. When I was dong daily selfies, I downloaded a few pictures from the hotel room, though attempts to do similar this time did not work out.
There is probably not very much that indicates how un-hip and nerdy I am as my methods, like choosing the songs and pasting them into a draft email in AOL, but no one is following me for the cutting edge technology.
I had to peak into the next chapter of emo songs, but I got them all selected and ready to go, with every day's worth of "Song of the day", the song and band name, and the link. I write out the whole thing in advance, because the copying and pasting is slow, but it gets done.
I wrote ahead multiple blog drafts, getting me through the Sunday. Some of them were short, but all six got written. That still left two days. I wasn't sure what would happen after that.
I ended up having ideas that gave me Monday and Tuesday. Wednesday I had some ideas, even if not as fully formed. But as I try to write them, I am nearly asleep and the day is almost over.
I am good at consistently producing content, but not that good apparently. At least not with the tools that I have.
There will be other days, but for now I sleep.
Wednesday, May 31, 2017
Tuesday, May 30, 2017
Memories at home
The trip has had a lot of nostalgia, but before we left there were different memories coming back. Many of them settled around the Friday night before, when I went to a concert. I will try and write more about the concert tomorrow.
A friend recently said to me that history doesn't repeat, but it rhymes a lot. That feels pretty true.
On the way to the show I was remembering a night not long before our last trip, four years ago. I was joining up with some friends for dinner and then hopping across town for my volunteer orientation for Stumptown Comic Fest. Because of those things - which were good - I was not there when my family first picked up Maeve from PetSmart, via the Cat Adoption Team.
Passing by similar locations (and cramming a lot into a small amount of time) was part of what felt familiar, but also I remember how Mom worried about the new cat coming while we would be gone. Through a string of small but important coincidences, there is a kitten who needs a home and will be making it with us. She does not come until after we get back this time. However, the new cat from then, our Mavis, is the one who has been acting a little brattier in our absence (hard to tell with cats sometimes) and who rubbed against the phone when it was on speaker and she heard my voice.
Of course now Stumptown no longer has a convention, but I have since given Rose City Comic Con a chance, and it will do, though I am still not up to volunteering for them.
That also reminds me that at that Stumptown I found out that year's International Comic Arts Forum would be held in Portland, starting the day after we got back. I could go to that! And I did. I missed the first day, because I was tired and they lost my luggage so I did not initially have any clothes, but there were more days. The panels were interesting, and I picked up some free books, but the most wonderful thing was talking to other people about comics.
This year's ICAF is in Seattle. It isn't quite as close, and doesn't cut the time as close, but maybe if I am a good girl and come up with a new source of income, that can be my next getaway.
One of the memories was a hard one. Last Friday was my second time at the Doug Fir Lounge. The first time was to see Frank Iero. It was a really early show (the doors opened at 4:30), which I found strange but intriguing. That was the night Mom got lost.
It was my fault, and don't think I wasn't aware of it. She had moments of disorientation before, but she was still driving to familiar places. She dropped me off at El Monica, which should have been fine, but I had a weird feeling. As I kept calling to make sure she had made it home, she kept not answering.
Why hadn't I just taken the bus?
My family was looking for her. They didn't expect me to leave the concert, but I kept jumping in case that was the phone, and I was afraid I wouldn't hear. Mainly I was just afraid. I gave up after about three songs by the opening act.
At the top of the stairs I ran into Frank. He was very nice, but I was not really there. My mind was roaming places where my mother could have ended up. I remembered that at the lounge this time, and on the way to the bus stop and at the bus stop. I remember waiting for the bus and trying not to fall apart. That may have only been possible due to some jerk on his cell phone explaining to his girlfriend that he wasn't the one fighting; he was being perfectly reasonable. And I remember on the bus finding out that she was home, and being too sapped to feel much relief. Maybe that was just guilt.
We survived. It is the least triumphant of the stories. I still have a weird curse around seeing Frank Iero play, and Mom still has dementia. We don't let her drive at all now.
But somehow, we are still here and managing. It's the battle cry of those just getting by.
Still here.
http://www.internationalcomicartsforum.org/
http://catadoptionteam.org/
http://sporkful.blogspot.it/2015/07/band-review-homeless-gospel-choir.html
A friend recently said to me that history doesn't repeat, but it rhymes a lot. That feels pretty true.
On the way to the show I was remembering a night not long before our last trip, four years ago. I was joining up with some friends for dinner and then hopping across town for my volunteer orientation for Stumptown Comic Fest. Because of those things - which were good - I was not there when my family first picked up Maeve from PetSmart, via the Cat Adoption Team.
Passing by similar locations (and cramming a lot into a small amount of time) was part of what felt familiar, but also I remember how Mom worried about the new cat coming while we would be gone. Through a string of small but important coincidences, there is a kitten who needs a home and will be making it with us. She does not come until after we get back this time. However, the new cat from then, our Mavis, is the one who has been acting a little brattier in our absence (hard to tell with cats sometimes) and who rubbed against the phone when it was on speaker and she heard my voice.
Of course now Stumptown no longer has a convention, but I have since given Rose City Comic Con a chance, and it will do, though I am still not up to volunteering for them.
That also reminds me that at that Stumptown I found out that year's International Comic Arts Forum would be held in Portland, starting the day after we got back. I could go to that! And I did. I missed the first day, because I was tired and they lost my luggage so I did not initially have any clothes, but there were more days. The panels were interesting, and I picked up some free books, but the most wonderful thing was talking to other people about comics.
This year's ICAF is in Seattle. It isn't quite as close, and doesn't cut the time as close, but maybe if I am a good girl and come up with a new source of income, that can be my next getaway.
One of the memories was a hard one. Last Friday was my second time at the Doug Fir Lounge. The first time was to see Frank Iero. It was a really early show (the doors opened at 4:30), which I found strange but intriguing. That was the night Mom got lost.
It was my fault, and don't think I wasn't aware of it. She had moments of disorientation before, but she was still driving to familiar places. She dropped me off at El Monica, which should have been fine, but I had a weird feeling. As I kept calling to make sure she had made it home, she kept not answering.
Why hadn't I just taken the bus?
My family was looking for her. They didn't expect me to leave the concert, but I kept jumping in case that was the phone, and I was afraid I wouldn't hear. Mainly I was just afraid. I gave up after about three songs by the opening act.
At the top of the stairs I ran into Frank. He was very nice, but I was not really there. My mind was roaming places where my mother could have ended up. I remembered that at the lounge this time, and on the way to the bus stop and at the bus stop. I remember waiting for the bus and trying not to fall apart. That may have only been possible due to some jerk on his cell phone explaining to his girlfriend that he wasn't the one fighting; he was being perfectly reasonable. And I remember on the bus finding out that she was home, and being too sapped to feel much relief. Maybe that was just guilt.
We survived. It is the least triumphant of the stories. I still have a weird curse around seeing Frank Iero play, and Mom still has dementia. We don't let her drive at all now.
But somehow, we are still here and managing. It's the battle cry of those just getting by.
Still here.
http://www.internationalcomicartsforum.org/
http://catadoptionteam.org/
http://sporkful.blogspot.it/2015/07/band-review-homeless-gospel-choir.html
Monday, May 29, 2017
Memories abroad
Here with my family, having lost most of a generation and knowing we are close to losing one more member, it's inevitable that there is some sadness. There is also a lot of love.
I am remembering the ones who are gone. Actually, I got a jolt on my very first day.
We went straight from the airport to the rehabilitation home to visit my aunt. As we got out of the car I heard a greeting and for a moment I thought I saw the first aunt and uncle who had died.
There was this unsettling moment of if I could have been wrong about losing them, or had we crossed over somewhere; having just spent 22 hours or so traveling, I could have been in a more impressionable state. It was only a moment and I realized they were two of my cousins. One, the daughter of my aunt, does look a lot like her. Her brother (the other) does not really look that much like our uncle, and yet there are moments when he does. My heart.
It would not surprise me too much if there is family nearby on both sides. There has been a lot of love and helping of each other all along. Since communication is primarily with those on this side, that is where I have to focus, and a lot of it is reminiscing. I feel how much we love each other now, but a lot of it is felt in memories that I have, and that we can share.
I remember that last night when we walked to the train station. It was so perfect.
I remember how before she would only eat pizza margherita.
Sometimes they remember too, but sometimes they didn't know, but now they will remember hearing it.
They are not always my memories. I tell them things my sisters remember, or things I heard from my mother.
I also give them new memories. Staying in a hotel is new, but it gives me regular internet connectivity. Every night I write to my brothers and sisters and tell them whom we saw and what we did (and what we ate). I think it makes my younger sisters miss them more, but sometimes that is the price of love.
I don't know that it bonds us, because we are already bonded, but there is a strengthening, I see these good things about you. The times I have with you are important to me.
I just wouldn't want there to be any doubt.
Related posts:
http://sporkful.blogspot.it/2013/06/amore.html
I am remembering the ones who are gone. Actually, I got a jolt on my very first day.
We went straight from the airport to the rehabilitation home to visit my aunt. As we got out of the car I heard a greeting and for a moment I thought I saw the first aunt and uncle who had died.
There was this unsettling moment of if I could have been wrong about losing them, or had we crossed over somewhere; having just spent 22 hours or so traveling, I could have been in a more impressionable state. It was only a moment and I realized they were two of my cousins. One, the daughter of my aunt, does look a lot like her. Her brother (the other) does not really look that much like our uncle, and yet there are moments when he does. My heart.
It would not surprise me too much if there is family nearby on both sides. There has been a lot of love and helping of each other all along. Since communication is primarily with those on this side, that is where I have to focus, and a lot of it is reminiscing. I feel how much we love each other now, but a lot of it is felt in memories that I have, and that we can share.
I remember that last night when we walked to the train station. It was so perfect.
I remember how before she would only eat pizza margherita.
Sometimes they remember too, but sometimes they didn't know, but now they will remember hearing it.
They are not always my memories. I tell them things my sisters remember, or things I heard from my mother.
I also give them new memories. Staying in a hotel is new, but it gives me regular internet connectivity. Every night I write to my brothers and sisters and tell them whom we saw and what we did (and what we ate). I think it makes my younger sisters miss them more, but sometimes that is the price of love.
I don't know that it bonds us, because we are already bonded, but there is a strengthening, I see these good things about you. The times I have with you are important to me.
I just wouldn't want there to be any doubt.
Related posts:
http://sporkful.blogspot.it/2013/06/amore.html
Friday, May 26, 2017
Concert Review: Chris Margolin
Chris Margolin is a Portland musician who performs both as a solo artist and as a part of various bands. Although one band, the Dead Bird Collective, will be releasing new music soon, I saw him by himself, and can only evaluate in that way.
If Lily Pryor's voice reminded me of a bell, Chris Margolin's reminded me of wood, warm and rich.
That could have been suggested by the environment, as the Doug Fir Lounge is decorated in a very woodsy way, but that was my impression nonetheless. One of the most impressive things was how he and his voice filled the space.
He will be playing the Doug Fir Lounge again with his current project, the Dead Bird Collective, on September 8th, and that should be a good opportunity to check him out.
Thursday, May 25, 2017
Concert Review: Lily Pryor
Her voice is clear like a bell, singing with an age-appropriate sweetness. Between numbers you could see some nervousness as she prepared for each next song, but the delivery of the songs was consistently well-done, performing a mix of original material and covers.
I am not sure how the grading works - whether you do reports on geography or business or psychology - but vocally she should be safe for an A.
Wednesday, May 24, 2017
They're sorry
One thing I have always been very good at is drawing unwanted attention. Somehow I seem approachable, even though I always have books to read and thoughts to think. Then I remember that this is a human being, and give them my attention, even though my initial response was a more curdled humanity.
That is generally what gets me ashamed, is finding that this is a good and often beaten down person, and they should be meeting far more kindness in the world than they are.
The thing I noticed most recently is how apologetic they tend to be. In my most recent encounter, she kept prefacing each question with a mumbled "I'm sorry." The averted eyes and downcast head were already a hint that she did not expect to be valued.
There are three specific people that I am thinking of. They were all times when I had meant to be reading, but then they were kind and often interesting people. Spiritually they are my siblings. Maybe there are ways we could help each other.
It goes along with the other things that we have been posting this week. We are not valuing people enough. It's worse if you are old and poor, even if you have served your country and your health still suffers from it, or you have worked all of your life, or you have tried really hard to be a good person and stand up for fairness.
I think of it for them, because in those moments on Tri-Met I have seen their worth and cared about them, but I also think about my mother. Is it obvious how fiercely protective I am of her? But I can't protect her from everything. It would be good to believe there were fewer threats.
And I think about it for me. I am on track to be old and alone. This current state of being childless and also without nieces and nephews is likely to continue. I will continue to age, and remaining poor seems more probable than not. Will my goodness matter then? Will there be respect for my age? I don't know; I just want to see a kinder world.
That being said, you are lucky if you get to talk to me. I both speak and listen well. Pure delight.
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
Out in the open
Building on yesterday's post, there are trends in society that bother me, and that we should reverse.
is possible that if I am worried about abusive TSA agents or trouble in customs that it was stupid of me to post about it. The probability of drawing attention is low, but it does still exist. It might make sense to hold my breath and wait, but I am not that kind of smart. If I am thinking something, it's not really that I blurt it (usually), but I will keep thinking it and churning it over until it comes out.
I am sick of separate groups. I have been added to so many lately.
It's not that I don't see the point. I have made a few connections that I really like through some of them, and I have learned some interesting stories. There can be value in connecting. After I left the one Mormon liberal group because they were racist, I was still getting frustrated with the other one because they were so Sanders-blind. That made the pro-Hillary group for Mormons a breath of fresh air.
(I do worry a little about mentioning them at all, but there are so many others that I don't think I am actually revealing anything.)
That is one of the problems. The points of agreement may not be unifying enough. Like with one group just focused on good government (also Mormon), one admin admonished someone for commenting "spoiled jerks" on an article about Trump, because we are not partisan so there shouldn't be any name-calling. While that particular epithet was pretty mild, if it had been directed at a poster I would have agreed. If we can't admit that Trump is spoiled and a jerk at the very least, I'm not sure how effectively you are going to be able to advocate for good government.
They aren't all related to my religion. Some are local, and because of people I know. In all cases I get why they do it. They post the things they feel and they get rain of abuse and stupidity that makes them want to curl up in a ball or delete the internet (or both). The group serves a purpose for them.
But for me, I get online and I see 9 notifications, which I check carefully because I don't want to miss an interaction. I check, and none of them are interactions; just people posting. Then I turn off notifications, and then I might as well not be in the group because I see nothing.
If I needed the outlet, it would matter more to me, but I do say what I want. Granted, that has meant standing up to a lot of insults and researching and digging my teeth and feet in like the most tenacious bulldog ever. That was not fun. It seemed to work, because most people seem to have given up arguing with me, but then perhaps I have created an even more isolating echo chamber than those in the secret groups.
(And so many of the group members are related to their persecutors that they may not find it practical to go into bulldog mode with them.)
I don't worry about that as much as I could, because the truth is I use Twitter a lot more, which I find much better for information and even for connecting in some ways.
Twitter works for me, but a lot of people aren't on it. For them to arrange Facebook in a way that is somewhat gratifying and comforting makes sense, except this shouldn't be necessary.
They should be able to say the things they feel without other people rushing in to tell them how stupid and wrong and un-American they are. Why do we think it's okay to stamp out any dissenting opinions? Why do we think it's okay to make others afraid to speak? Doesn't that sound un-American?
It's just one more thing we get wrong.
Related posts:
Monday, May 22, 2017
Worried about this trip, part 2
The first part of my
worries were specific to our family and health situation, but it is worse
because of the world.
I am not thrilled that
pat-downs are getting more invasive or that it seems like TSA agents might be
getting more abusive:
https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2017-03-03/u-s-airport-pat-downs-are-about-to-get-more-invasive
https://www.rt.com/usa/387885-homeland-security-rape-table-newark-airport/
Questions about passwords
don't seem great either:
https://www.theatlantic.com/technology/archive/2017/02/give-us-your-passwords/516315/
Of course the laptop ban
does look at what country you are coming from (which doesn't make it better),
so would be unlikely to affect us, but you know, airlines tell you not to check
small electronics and that they won't replace them if they are lost or damaged.
It's a horrible policy.
http://www.cnn.com/2017/05/16/opinions/extension-laptop-ban-opinion-schneier/
However, it may be easier
to get to the root of my concerns by looking at the things that have been
happening on the planes, after the TSA.
http://liveandletsfly.boardingarea.com/2017/04/22/aa-stroller-incident/
http://www.nbcnews.com/news/us-news/california-family-kicked-delta-flight-threatened-jail-refusing-give-toddler-n755141
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/dr-gridlock/wp/2017/03/26/two-girls-barred-from-united-flight-for-wearing-leggings/?utm_term=.f572668722da
https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/dr-gridlock/wp/2017/03/26/two-girls-barred-from-united-flight-for-wearing-leggings/?utm_term=.f572668722da
http://www.cnn.com/2017/04/10/travel/passenger-removed-united-flight-trnd/
The most interesting
discussions were about the United incident, so let's go there.
First of all, overbooked
is the wrong word for that. They needed space for employees that needed to get
to another city, but that is not the same as having sold too many tickets. One
interesting discussion point was that there is a good chance that the airline
does not have enough employees to cover a few call ins. That's certainly possible,
knowing how everyone is trying to cut costs.
That leads to the other
thing. Rather than random selections, they were picking the passengers who'd
paid the least. When they selected Dr. Dao, they already had three people, but
they chose someone traveling with his wife, bumping two people. They went with
someone who had considered volunteering, but because it would delay him
overnight (keeping him from scheduled appointments with his patients), chose
not to. Those both seem like good reasons to leave him alone, but he had paid
less for his ticket.
I always search for lower
fares. I have to. We can't afford to travel if I don't do that. Is it weird
that I think if they are willing to sell me the ticket at that price that I
should be able to go? It no longer gets me a meal or a free checked bag, but
still, it should give me that trip. I guess in a world where the rich have a
private lounge and cameras for gloating at the less fortunate, there is no more
logical line of division:
https://www.theguardian.com/world/2017/may/12/lax-private-terminal-rich-people-celebrities
There are two other
interesting things about that. One is that the airline should have been able to
arrange ground transportation for the crew, or offered limos to the bumped
passengers. That wouldn't be a possibility with all routes, but in this case it
was doable.
The other things is that
even though the airline was clearly out of line - probably due to poor planning
- it is the doctor who had his past dragged over. None of that affected his
actions or the airline's actions, but there always has to be a reason why the
abuser is allowed to abuse. Too many of our patterns involve upholding the
already powerful.
So I worry about
navigating this. Worrying about making connections in an unfamiliar airport
with my mother's bad knees is not new. Worrying about her getting a little
disoriented because of the dementia is newer, but still something that I have
dealt with and can. Worrying that someone will judge her for her accent, or
that someone in a low level authority position will be abusive because they are
underpaid and overworked and the only thing that satisfies them is making
someone else suffer, that is new.
So I have added the phone
numbers for both senators, our representative, and the ACLU into my phone. I
probably won't have to use them, but I wish I didn't have to worry about it.
Don't we all have enough
worries already?
Friday, May 19, 2017
Band Review: The Slants
As I wrap up my first
attempt at commemorating Asian Pacific American Heritage month, I realize that
I have been doing it wrong, locating musicians from Asia but not Asian-American musicians. (Except for
Lampano Alley, they have all been Japanese.)
That is something to
think about for next year. One difficulty is that there aren't a lot of
Asian-American bands. In fact, today's band, The Slants, are commonly
considered to be the first and only all-Asian American dance-rock band. At
least I am getting them in today.
It was always going to
happen, sooner or later. They are a Portland band, and have been on my radar since the
Oregonian ran an article about their difficulties in trademarking their name.
The case was resolved in early 2015, and I think the article I read happened
just prior to final arguments. I can't find it now, but here is an interesting
short video on the topic:
Of course I would want to
check them out. Subverting the language of the oppressor is a thing that I
often see the value of, and would like to defend, but I don't have good words
for expressing it because I have never had to do it. They put it in a song!
They have a song about their court case and it is fantastic!
I admit I was expecting
them to be more punk, based on the case alone. They are more dance-rock. There
are times when they remind me of Depeche Mode, but there are also echoes of
that time when Interpol was big and The Killers put out Hot Fuss. You may especially notice this on the
enticing "Love Within My Sins".
A great introduction to
the band would be their 2017 EP, The Band Who Must Not Be Named.
It starts out with
"From the Heart". That's the song about the court case and I love it
- not just for the message but also musically. The third track is my second
favorite, "Endlessly Falling".
"Level Up" is a
nice tribute to their fandom. The Slants are popular with cosplayers and
convention goers and geeks. (This also comes up in some videos.) "Fight Back"
could be an anthem for any of the put upon, including geeks, but the keyboards
kind of give some video game shout-outs as well.
Finally, "Sutures"
is deeply personal and thoughtful. The acoustic version here (it has been
performed with Dez Cadena of Black Flag, so that's another way of doing it)
shows another side of the band.
I think after going
through the EP, there is good reason to continue checking out other music, and
find additional treats there. They are very much worth checking out.
Thursday, May 18, 2017
Band Review: Yellow Magic Orchestra
One of the unintended
themes of this month has been finding musicians of amazing longevity. Yellow
Magic Orchestra is no exception, having begun recording in 1977. They have had
off periods and performed under different names, but even in the band's down
times the individual members have been very productive.
I do not remember
anything about them from their first time around. Their song
"Firecracker" was mentioned in Mad World (Mad World: An Oral History of New
Wave Artists and Songs That Defined the 1980s by Jonathan Bernstein and Lori Majewski). "Firecracker" became
a song of the day when I was going over music from there, but I also made a
note to check out the band later.
I'm glad I did. If
"Firecracker" was all I knew, YMO could fit into the field of random
synth pop instrumentals, like "Music Box Dancer" or
"Popcorn"; they are so much more.
"Computer Game"
goes in the realm of chiptunes, which I can't listen to for very long. That was
the first other song I heard, which was discouraging. There was still more.
That may be one of the
most impressive things - how much YMO did and did early. They sampled and
reconstructed and were cutting edge for a few different genres, some more
trippy and some more poppy. They can be suggestive like on
"See-Through" (I guess the name kind of sets you up for that).
"Thousand
Knives" and "Rydeen" are good listening. I especially liked
"Kai-Koh" and "Expecting Rivers". Still, I don't think anything matches
the joyousness of "You've Got to Help Yourself". And it's odd,
because there is a subdued delivery to the song, that seems incongruous with
the joy, but that's still how I end up feeling.
One of the most
frustrating parts of listening is that there were skits on Service, and I have no idea what they were about. I
suspect they were smart, and had points that mattered.
At least music is
universal.
Wednesday, May 17, 2017
Worrying about this trip, part 1
It feels a little cruel
that I have so much anxiety about this trip when travel is one of my favorite
things. Here I am going somewhere I love, and I am in knots about it.
I mentioned something
superstitious yesterday: my mother's siblings have died in pairs. One uncle and
one aunt died three months apart, and another two died a week apart.
(Technically there were also two who died in childhood, but separated by a few
years.) They didn't necessarily go in the pairs that you would expect, like
older ones going together, or ones who were especially close going together,
but you notice. When grief comes that close together, you notice.
(Debbie Reynolds dying so
soon after Carrie Fisher may have messed me up in this regard.)
There are only two left
now: my mother and her oldest sister, who will turn 95 this summer. They are
especially close; my aunt was like a second mother to my mother. I don't know
how well my mother would do without her. And, my aunt kind of feels like she has
lived too long.
She hasn't just taken
special care of my mother, but she has been the one who was there for everyone,
not having children of her own. She has been without her husband for a long
time, and she has seen beloved brothers and sisters who were younger leave her
behind. She recently fell and broke her femur. Falls are not good for the
elderly.
The trip had been
scheduled before that happened, because I felt like they really needed to see
each other again, and I was already starting to worry about time. One thing I
had done differently is booked a hotel, because - after checking with a cousin
- it felt like we would be too much work for her. (You can intend to not be
work, and tell her not to worry about things, but she will still worry.)
Still, I thought that
would be okay. We could stay at the hotel at night, but then visit her each
day. There had been talk (and some pressure from her in-laws) of her moving
into a home for seniors. Maybe we could help her with some sorting and packing.
Or, if their visiting was going well, maybe I could sometimes leave them and go
do a little sightseeing of places I was rushed through before.
Now my aunt is in a
rehabilitation facility. We can still visit her, but I suspect we won't be able
to do very long visits. Being there is still really important, but it will be
different. I don't think there will be much me time, but the odds of that were
always pretty good.
Also, I keep remembering
things from our last trip. Although that was long before she started forgetting
old things, there was a moment of disorientation on the plane. She asked
something about where she lived, and I told her Aloha and she told me I was
joking - she didn't live in Aloha. Then a few minutes later she realized I was
right.
I attributed it to being
confusion between her old home and her current one, and that didn't repeat.
Instead the memory problems while there were more not being able to keep
straight how long we had been gone, or how much time we still had left. Also
she kept forgetting that the airline had lost her bag, which came up every time
she wanted to change clothes or moisturize. (We can each bring one bag with no
additional fees, but I am still toying with the idea of carry-on only.)
This time, she is someone
who gets confused about where she lives and how many kids she has while looking
at them, and I don't know if the disorientation will get worse. Maybe touching
base with her past will help, but it might not and I don't know.
Those are just concerns
about being there, and not about getting through connections and security,
where her knee replacements always set off metal detectors and the beeping and
the instructions just confuse her.
That gets to another area
of concern. If all goes well, I will write that in advance, and post it Monday
before we leave for the airport. I do not feel capable of predicting whether
all will go well right now, at least in terms of maintaining daily blog and
song posts.
What I do know is that it
has felt good to express these dark feelings. I have written them in my
journal, but it also helps to be public. These are my fears, and like most
fears they have varying degrees of probability, but I own them.
The other thing that I
have to reaffirm is that I still believe this trip is the right thing. I can
imagine hastily booking after the fall - the urgency I felt before being
replaced with desperation - and spending at least another $700 on plane
tickets, plus who knows how much on the hotel. If I am going down scary roads,
I am still being led.
That is an encouraging
thought.
Tuesday, May 16, 2017
Stalked by sadness
I have worked hard to be
more in touch with my body. The good news there is that like some of these
other endeavors, it becomes more natural. Once you make the initial effort,
staying connected becomes fairly natural.
Don't be too impressed; I
am sure that with a little effort in the opposite direction I could undo it. I
was nonetheless pleased to see that it hasn't been something that required
constant vigilance and repeated backsliding. It's nice that some things have
been easier.
What has been harder
lately is staying in touch with my mind. I guess there had to be something.
One of the frustrating
things about listening to my body is how often the message was pain. Hey, this
finger has a twinge. Oh, it's a bad twinge? Did I break it? Or is that just a
sign of pending full-blown arthritis as I age? What do I do now? Doctor, heat,
ice, or ibuprofen? It is better to be aware of it and especially to do
something now rather than three weeks from now. It is also an inconvenience,
but it's one that you accept is better than letting a little problem get
neglected into a big one.
(And yes, it has not yet
been a full year since I left a piece of glass in my foot for three weeks and
let myself in for a big and expensive infection. I guess it ended up being a
lesson.)
I also know pretty well
how the emotional wound you try to ignore only digs deeper and does worse
things to your life. Therefore I have no excuse for trying to put this one off;
I keep hinting at it. I just need to face it.
I am stressed about this
trip. I am already stressed about running out of money and my mother's health
prospects, but the upcoming trip makes it worse. I have been so exhausted with
no identifiable cause, except that I am about to leave on a trip and I have grave
concerns.
I think I am going to
save my specific travel concerns for a different post, because at least with
those there is a framework with a lot of known factors. There are dates and
times and no matter what I worry about that might go wrong, we will probably
arrive home at the currently scheduled time without being too much the worse
for wear.
There are also things
where I know there is no point in trying to deal with them until after I get
back. I will be unavailable for a little over a week; how much sense does it
make to send out certain inquiries and start various processes now?
So that leaves the big
issue of my mother's health, where I know there is pain coming, but not the
details on when and how it will come.
Mom could go on for years
like this, which is not horrible but is a source of worry, and puts some
limitations on what I can do. She could become much more absent, but still be
here. That would hurt a lot, and again, it is not easy to predict the time.
One reason I like the
pictures I took - with her exasperated faces - is that she looks like she is
there. A lot of photos have her unfocused, where she doesn't really seem present.
She is not usually like that now, but it was something that I saw with my aunt
on our last visit; as she kept mentally slipping away. It will be hard to deal
with that.
Mom could also die. No,
there is nothing that makes it seem likely that it would happen soon (one bit
of superstition based on her siblings, but it is just superstition), but that's
something I think about too. And that will really hurt. It would also solve
some issues, but there would be so much guilt in any feelings of relief that it
would not be much relief.
So there is always
something there, but I don't know what it will ultimately be. It could end up
being all of the above over a protracted time period. I believe this is why I
sometimes get teary for no apparent reason, or sometimes there is a sigh that
is kind of gasping - there is always this shadowy form around the corner of
something that is going to hurt.
When I am giving advice
to my siblings, I remind them to dwell in the moment. If she is happy now,
enjoy it. This isn't the time for corrections. For the love of all that is good
and pure why would you bring this topic up now in this relatively serene
moment?
That may make me kind of
a hypocrite. I am good at staying in the moment with her, but for myself my
mind looks ahead and it has a hard time.
Where it becomes so hard
is that I can't resolve it. I think things out and write them out so that I can
know how I feel and what I need to do. Okay, I know how I feel. I know what I
need to do today. That future, though... I can't get any answers there.
Perhaps then the most
important thing about all of this was to get better enough to be able to take
it. Figure out what was false and what was true, find the strength that I need,
and be able to get through this, whatever this ends up being.
Related posts:
Monday, May 15, 2017
Salad days
One of the more
unexpected outcomes in this part of my life is that my sisters look forward to
my salads.
They are picky eaters. I
am too, but our pickiness doesn't have a lot of overlap. I am carnivorous; they
don't really care for meat. I am okay with some melted cheese toppings, or some
accents, but they like chunks of Gouda and cheese in a can, and cheese in all
of these ways that gross me out. I am more adventurous with different cuisines
and spices, but I can't stand hummus, which they love.
Maybe it makes sense in a
different way. They do like a lot of salad bars (which I generally find
disgusting (except for Sweet Tomatoes). That makes it necessary for me to be
able to make my own salads, but also perhaps they were predisposed to being okay
with salads.
The first sign was the
blueberry carrot salad, which they loved. They would even eat it as leftovers,
which is big. That could have been a fluke, and them eating different kit
salads doesn't prove anything, but the Brussels sprouts salads might.
We have heard good things
about Brussels sprouts for a while. "Oh, they are sweet like candy!"
That was obviously not true, but if someone could say it then maybe they were
at least not as gross as I have always thought. "Just roast them with olive
oil!"
I could not swallow even
one that way. I think any cooking at all brings the sulfur. I know it doesn't
work that way for everyone, but this was not going to be an option. I didn't
want to give up though; they are supposed to be really good for you. With a
little more research it appeared that they could be shredded raw and used as a
salad base.
I tried it first as a
sweet salad (raspberry vinaigrette, dried cranberries, pecorino cheese), and
everyone liked it. I tried it as a savory salad (olive oil, feta, bacon
crumbles) and that was well-received. I like the sweet better, but it's nice to
have options. I believe it could also work with a sesame dressing and won ton
slices, or something like that.
I hope that there are a
few lessons in here. One should be that it's okay for different people to have
different tastes. There are so many different fruits, vegetables, nuts, seeds,
dressings, meats, grains, and cheeses that not only should there be something
for everyone, and but also no one needs to like everything.
What may not be obvious
is how you need to keep trying. Disliking three vegetables doesn't mean you
hate vegetables; it means that you need to try different ones, at least or
cooking them in different ways.
I have been frustrated
with my own aversion to "healthy foods". I can't stand fish or
walnuts and until this latest development I wasn't very good with cruciferous
vegetables. There are enough other things that I do like, and I continue to try
out new things. It's fine. It may take some creativity and persistence. It
definitely takes some availability and knowledge, but I am not going to take on
food deserts and lack of cooking knowledge at this time.
Right now I just want to
take on that despair or sense of hopelessness about eating well. The diet
mindset - where the only thing important to health is body size - makes that
worse because it is often based on deprivation.
When I wrote up Moderate Changes, the best thing about it may be that its focus is adding good things
rather than removing "bad" things. Give to yourself.
I am not perfect at it. I
have gotten so sick of eating oatmeal lately. I have gotten better about
getting whole grains in at other meals, but at one point the bowl of oatmeal
made starting the day right easy, and there has been a change. I can adapt to
that.
A lot of trying to get my
head right comes back to believing that I am worth something. No matter my
size, or my quirks, or my weaknesses, I deserve good care, which I am also
responsible for providing. Deciding that I am dirt doesn't help anyone.
So tonight I am working
with asparagus and yellow bell peppers. I may use some brown rice or barley.
But also, I'm making chocolate chip cookies, which are better for the soul than
the body, but are nonetheless fine.
Friday, May 12, 2017
Band Review: Kyosuke Himuro
There were two great
surprises while listening to Kyosuke Humuro this week.
The first was Steve
Stevens, who frequently plays guitar for Himuro; I love him! I have been a fan
of his work with Billy Idol for years. I knew that was not all he did, but this
is the first time I have heard any of it. Stumbling across it without
specifically looking for it was pretty awesome.
I become aware of Himuro
himself because of a song he did with Gerard Way, "Safe and Sound". I like the song
a lot (I wrote about it a little years ago), but that was all I knew until this
review.
Having now seen footage
of Himuro performing live, I see a very similar energy to Gerard's, where it
feels very fitting that they have collaborated. There is so much charisma
coming through.
That will not be as
visible in the video for "Kiss Me". It is one of my favorite songs,
along with "Claudia" but the video feels a little over-directed. It
may be that all of the magnetism breaks out when Kyosuke is in front of an
audience, perhaps feeding off of the crowd's energy to pull them in, but it is
powerful. He reminds me a little of Elvis as well.
None of that is to negate
the value of straight listening to the music, but his stage presence - even
through video - is phenomenal.
Well worth checking out.
I am not just listening; I am printing out lyrics (even though I do not
understand them) because I need to know.
Thursday, May 11, 2017
Band Review: Shonen Knife
I've been familiar with
the name Shonen Knife for many years. Back to the early days of the IMDB
message boards (RIP), a common question would be what band was playing in a
certain movie scene, and often the answer was Shonen Knife. That was all I knew
until I recently saw a reference to them being influenced by the Ramones, and
then I had to check them out.
That was initially not
helpful. Listening to them cover Ramones songs on Osaka Ramones just
reminded me that I like the Ramones better, until "We Want the
Airwaves". I have to give credit where credit is due, and that is some
good guitar on there. (Also "Chinese Rock" worked for me, because I
don't think of that so much as a Ramones song as a "Who doesn't have a
cover of it" song.)
Instruments are very
respectable, but there is a softness in the vocal delivery that doesn't scream
punk at me. Because of that, Shonen Knife works better for me when they are
singing about food and animals, and just giving into the kawaii. "Like A Cat"
really works. "I Wanna eat Cookies" is such a simple, relatable
statement; how does the song turn so menacing? Is this the Black Sabbath
version of Cookie Monster? It's genius. "Good Night" is very
beautiful.
As easy as it is to sing
along about barnacles and capybaras, one of my favorites was a cover, "When
You Sleep". It is very distinct from the My Bloody Valentine original,
incorporating some doo-wop elements. Hearing that delivery while thinking of a
band named for a horror movie, well, I think I could really be down for an Osaka
Misfits album. Or for them touring with Reggie and the Full Effect. Or both.
They have been an active band since 1981 and are still going; there is room for
a few more twists.
Wednesday, May 10, 2017
Head and shoulders
Yesterday I posted that
sometimes there are connections that I don't see until later, which of course
means that there maybe connections I still don't see.
One reason for this is
the level of complexity there can be; different connections exist
simultaneously.
For example, I mentioned
that my shoulders had been aching badly. There was a fairly clear-cut physical
reason, with my rotator cuffs being all tight. The physical act of the massage
was very helpful for that.
I went through a few wrong
guesses on what it could be, but I never doubted that there was a physical
component. It still felt like a symbolic manifestation of how burdened I felt.
If I was carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders, of course they would
ache.
Somewhere in between that
is the likelihood that maybe the reason I had gotten my rotator cuffs all out
of sorts was the time I spent hunched at my computer searching for jobs and
trying to find leads and how the tension that I was feeling caused me to hold
myself. That is not symbolic, and not psychosomatic, but the mind still plays a
role.
My posture at the
computer is still important. Not spending unproductive time there worrying and
fretting is important too. To do that, it helps to not feel like you are responsible
for the entire world.
I have gotten somewhat
better at that. There are still a lot of worries. I am trying to be better
about asking for help on the things that I need, at least where it relates to
caring for my mother. There is still a lot that is unknown, and worrisome, but
I am not feeling as weighed down, and that is good.
It is not as good as
things could possibly be, and I recognize the limitations. One of those wants
on the original list was to have flying dreams again. I accept that at this
time that is not likely.
There are many ties
holding me down, and I can't even want a release from them all. I know what the
big release will be, and that will involve a lot of sorrow. Any relief there
will be tinged with guilt for feeling it. I suppose at some point I will emerge
on this other side where I can be okay with things, but I can't wish for it. I
can't even predict how some things will go because I have a mental block around
that loss.
My dreams have still
evolved. In the past I would often have dreams where I was blocked. There would
be locked gates and upside-down staircases and destinations would disappear
before I could get there.
Now the places I want to
go are just far. I can get there, but it takes longer than I would have wanted.
Apparently my subconscious is more optimistic now, even if the length of the
route in the dream makes me feel tired just looking at it.
That is still progress.
Tuesday, May 09, 2017
On a clear day
I may spend an inordinate
amount of time going over the things I do and why I do them, like with
yesterday's post.
My tendency to
over analyze everything isn't new, but it does feel like it comes with higher
stakes now. I had a fair amount of stress already, and the world just keeps
getting harsher. That combination raises questions: am I on the right track? am
I wasting my time? Can I even do this?
That's not new either.
Back when I was writing the comic I came to realize that those 400+ pages were
primarily about whether I could keep my humanity in a world where a teenage boy
is shot for being Black and his shooter goes free, yes due to racism but
greatly helped by an organization of corporations writing laws that benefited
them and corrupt politicians allowed it. Eventually my answer was affirmative,
but I had no idea then how much darker things would get.
I have also kept growing.
As I try to wrap up this latest phase, it becomes more clear.
I was going through the
spreadsheet items that I haven't blogged about yet (or where I was not sure
that I had blogged about them enough), and there has been a lot of progress.
I do believe I can be
loved now. I still have doubts about having closer relationships in this life,
but that deep inner certainty that there was something inherently wrong with
me, and that could only be rejected by anyone else, that's not there anymore.
Enough light has shone on it, and it evaporated. That seemed impossible once.
I wanted to be okay with
my appearance. I pretty much am, as equivocal as that sounds.
If I remain completely
honest, there are things I would like to look different, and I am very aware
about how open to criticism my appearance is. At the same time, people
criticize appearances that I think are great. Somewhere between the realization
that a lot of things that get said are cruelty in search of a target, and the
knowledge that physical appearance is ephemeral and inner substance is more
important - somewhere in there I can't get too worked up about my looks. I know
that shopping for a formal could still throw me into a total relapse, but I
believe it would be temporary.
My shoulders don't ache
the way they did. It still happens sometimes, and as good as getting the one
massage was, that should probably not be a once in a lifetime - or even once
every few years- event. It is
nonetheless encouraging to see that something that was a source of great pain
has faded, and without a lot of targeted action.
I have worked on specific
things - none of this has been effortless - but there were some problems that
were identified and then not thought about much. I focused on the areas where I
had ideas on what to do, even if it was just writing about them a lot, or
reading books that came to mind. That working on some problems led to
resolution (or at least amelioration) of other problems reminds me that I am a
whole and integrated person. Things connect.
I saw some of those
connections early on, and there are some I want to explore tomorrow. There were
other connections that I didn't see, and may still not see. Things can still
work out.
That progress reinforces
that my instincts are sound. That is good, because I suspect I am going to have
to rely on them more and more.
Monday, May 08, 2017
Asian Pacific American Heritage Month
May is Asian Pacific American Heritage Month. In
addition, March is Women's History Month.
I learned about these additional months some time
after I had committed to commemorating Black History Month in February and Native
American Heritage Month in November. I just looked and found that there is a
LGBT History month in October. While I could see the value of all of them, I
didn't believe that I could take on more, especially given that I am usually
running late with what I plan for February and November.
I was planning on doing a music trial run this
month, adding five bands to the review list that are of Asian heritage. My
Friday review was a blues band from the Philippines and I am listening to Shonen Knife as I write this. I had five bands
that I could commit to, out of eight. I had thought maybe I would try and get
in one book, but that's not going to happen right now.
I didn't want to write about that because it felt
very inadequate and also I have worried about it being viewed as artificial.
There have been some other things that have been causing me to think
differently.
I started observing Black History month in 2010,
adding Native American Heritage reading the next year, and then it was just
books. I wasn't reviewing music or doing songs of the day then. When I first
started adding musicians, that was just a few at the time. Five bands the first
time trying is pretty good.
It is also only possible because of other things
that have changed in my life. I get bands from online articles because of people
I follow, and books that I read, or from other musicians that I didn't know
about a few years ago. I expect more of myself now, but I have more resources
now, at least for knowing what is out there.
The other thing has been some more discussion about
representation. That includes one this morning about how hard it is to get LGBT
representation in major films (there are more examples of sentient trees), but
also one a while back about Apollo 13.
Katherine Johnson, of Hidden Figures fame, worked on that mission. Does anyone
remember seeing any Black women in that movie? John Glenn's mission shown in Hidden Figures was a key event in The Right Stuff; see any Black women in that? As computers? Apparently
only white men can do math - so much so that a more accurate movie that showed
the reality would be accused of just being politically correct. I haven't seen
the mini-series From the Earth to the Moon, but the credits look pretty white.
That has been the crucial
weakness in "American" history - people of all races and genders
contribute and then the books only tell the stories of the white men. It is not
a dig against white men to have a problem with the lie.
That is important to me
as a writer and as an American. I try and be better about that, and regularly
delving into the history (and music now) of other groups is one way that I do
that. The things I write still have lots of white people and men and straight people,
but there are others too. There should be. They are all real, and they live,
and they should be able to find themselves in books and movies and television
shows.
Yes, they should be able
to tell their own stories and be given those opportunities, but it is not their
sole responsibility to make the case for their own existence. Fiction suffers
from not being true, and people suffer in a culture where the humanity of some
is consistently denied.
And if it seems difficult
to define the borders of what I think is important as a writer and what I think
is important as a human, well, yes, I have noticed that too. But I believe what
I write is better because of it.