chasing shadows again

{February 3, 2008}   Sunday Morning Coffee and Secrets

When I am 40, I want to be here.

Right now I am 27, and terrified I will not have children before I am 30.

I have no real home at moment (do not misinterpret, I am living in a house!) and I am slowly coming to terms with the knowledge that I will not stumble upon a place to belong and will instead have to build one.

I am in the process of bleaching my hair. The bleach that I normally use is not findable here, so I got bleach from Pop Gothic. High maintenance bleach! First it wants me to mix it, fair enough. I did that before. Then it wants me to apply it – fair enough, to work on hair it should touch hair. Then it wants me to wrap my hair in plastic and blowdry until done! Um…hello…effort? I miss my ‘apply and leave on 90 minutes’ bleach. This states I may have to blowdry my hair for 60 minutes! So…this opening is a break from blow-drying. Which I shall now resume. Back when I get tired of holding a blow dryer again!

And done with that! The dryer blew my darling little plastic turban apart. I’ll let it cool (as ordered) then rinse and shampoo and apply toning conditioner. I definitely need to switch back to my old bleach (though the color this one turned my hair in more like 25 minutes is as promising as the 90 minute time of the other one. Seriously. My old response to hair dye was to do it and hang out with people.

Who wants to come to a hair dying party? We can has hair dyes and daiquiris and maybe even manicures! Most. Fun. Ever. We can even has pre-dying lingerie shopping! Lingerie…finger sandwiches…chocolate…daiquiris…hair dye…. Movies? We could always mock porn. It seems appropriate, somehow.

I can’t wait to move back to where I have the people for that. I miss doing things like that. Immensely.

Off to rinse!

My hair is, in fact, quite pale yellow. It has toner in it, which should be rinsed out soon. Like 10-15 minutes. Meanwhile, picture for you!

The Secret: I miss the people I meet in my dreams.

The Picture:

funny pictures
moar funny pictures

I will admit…my hair is almost white. It is impressive. But…I don’t need white, only pale enough blue dye is more noticable than a highlight. Still…impressive.

It is the return of the secrets!  Not that they have been gone, I have just not been able to have words as much lately.  This week, I note this card and it brings me right back to wondering about online dating services.  (Not trying them out, I have two absolutely amazing people I’m lucky enough to be dating.  No hurry to find more.)  But to wondering about them.  There is a part of me that wonders just how that could work – I have made some damned intense connections through the online world (my Ravyn is one, in fact), but so much of how I’d choose to date is…I dunno.  Being matched on however many levels of compatibility is great – but…I think I would prefer to find out from the very beginning?  I still don’t know quite what to think.

PostSecret now has a community where you can discuss secrets and connect with other people reading secrets, listen to (or record your own) secrets, and view information on upcoming PostSecret events/books/news.   I’ve added many e-mail and messenger contacts (it’s about my only accomplishment of the morning) and will try to talk to them.  As I was writing this, one of the people I added pinged me, and our discussion so far has been lovely, and I’m enjoying it greatly as I write this post.

I may come to chatter later, but for now I leave you with a hibiscus.  🙂  I love having a camera again!


{September 23, 2007}   Sunday Morning Coffee

It is Sunday morning.  I am thinking of using Sundays for gardening and coffee tasting and talking to you.  Sundays are of course also for Postsecret, which I am opening now.  I sort of enjoy lazing about on Sunday mornings.

Reading over the secrets this week is captivating.  There are so many this week that I could write about, or touch on.

However, because I know that some people will understand, I will simply draw your attention to this one.

And now I will go on to search for meatloaf recipes.  Meatloaf!

Today the coffee is Vanilla Latte by Hawaiian Isles Coffee Company.  I have not tried it yet, as it is still steaming menacingly  from its place beside the laptop.

Two hours later, the coffee is cold, but I can assure you that it was good.

While reading through the Postsecret website I showed my mother this postcard.  We talked about the site and I showed her my copy of the first Postsecret book.  [I will at some point have them all!  However, I am waiting until I am settled somewhere I will be living (or until I’m next at an exhibit – notes from Frank are awesome!)]  Then my sister wanted to see the book, so she read the book.  I told her she could write a secret in it.  She’s thinking about it.

I am in love with this postcard.  In love.

Secrets, secrets, secrets….

People seem to me as defined by the things they don’t speak as by the things that they do.

This week I am especially touched by this card, because it very much echoes one of the main reasons that I fell so deeply and so quickly enchanted by Postsecret.

There will be a chatter post later too, I’m pretty sure because I have LOTS I want to say.  However, tradition demands I check out Postsecret (and because I’ve no one to to point to the screen with here, write and link for you).

This week, I will send you to two secrets.  The first is this one, which reminds me that I have quite a long way to go in that regard, but I’m getting there.  As soon as I have the chance, I will try to link to some volunteer organizations for children and get involved in some.  It has been far too long since I’ve done that.  To whoever sent that postcard (and to whoever can agree with the statement, or hopes to one day) my sincere congratulations – you’re becoming the person the world needs and dreams you will be.

The second secret is this one – I dream of being able to say that to someone.  I really, really do.  I hope that I can soon.  If not…ladies and gentlemen…I will get a papillion puppy.  Okay, I want one of those, but I’d probably adopt a rescue puppy.  I would intend to get a small one, but…I am my mother’s child, I would come home with the dog closest to being put to sleep if not adopted.  So far, those have always been good dogs.  (Patch the flying dog, for those of you who know him or know of him, is just such a dog.  And is currently sitting right by me, leaning into the screen door to be as close to me as he can.  The world would not be as beautiful if he weren’t in it.  But back to my theoretical puppy!)  It will think I am its happy ending (because puppies just do that), and if that is as close as I can get…I’ll take it.

And there we have our discussion for this morning.  🙂  Soon there will be chatterings.

This Sunday the secrets at Postsecret center on mothers.  Unsurprising.  I wasn’t sure at first I liked that idea (I am infamously unfond of holiday themes) but after the initial ‘why must everyone make an issue out of the commercialized excuse to buy cards, flowers, and gifts for mom’ thought, I loved this weeks secrets.

I have a had a…shall we say tumultuous relationship with my mother.  At least I can say we’ve never been indifferent to each other.  Healthy my family might not be, but we fail to be indifferent (and uncomplicated).  One of my poems that has always gotten the best response is my poem for my mother (initially and almost always printed in purple, her favorite color) – praise which often ends with ‘I wish I could meet her.’

Secrets kept and revealed and and gently obscured is still our relationship.  We are most at ease talking about how to trim the hibiscus, asking after the progress of the lavender.  I still haven’t told my mother I’m bisexual, though I suspect she knows.  She met my first girlfriend and really liked her, even still asks about her.  I’m hoping that my new girlfriend (new as of a year ago in July, anyway) will have a chance to visit the island and meet her, though I really don’t see them getting along.  There is a card about keeping that secret, but it doesn’t fit my mother and I, for all it touches me.

The one that I will share this time is this one.  Lately I have been intensely aware that I want to have a child.  Like, yesterday.  And while I understand that my biological clock is holding me hostage and I don’t actually need to conceive right now, I was hoping to have a baby by 30, which is actually not looking terribly likely right now (I’ve only got a little better than three years).

At any rate, that is the rambling for this Sunday.  (At least on this topic.  There may be more new posts today, I’m in process with a few.)  My best wishes to you all.  Ciao.

I know I’ve been handpicking beautiful, whimsical, and uplifting secrets for you from Postsecret, but this week I found this one. While I certainly don’t hate my parents for raising me as a Christian (Methodist, if you must know, though I’m not any longer) I do have trouble accepting the things religion (any of them, not just Christianity) can push people to do.

I might have been so struck by this card if not for last night’s stumbling on news that a 17-year-old girl was stoned to death and the recent discussions I had with my Ravyn, and remarkably enough my mother, about the Westboro Baptist Church.

But then, I might still have lingered over that card. Growing up how and where I did, I never really questioned some things I had learned. Unlike many of the people I grew up with, my parents taught me from the time I was young not to judge other people – my mother actually once said to me ‘if you’re going to hate someone, get to know them first, and hate them for a real reason.’ I will be forever grateful to them for that perspective that lets me look at people from a place without feeling threatened by what they look like, where they come from, who I might think their skin looks like. People are not their skin, their religion, or their nationality – not that any of those can’t be a part of who they are. I did not grow up in a place that believed that, and I have seen the kind of intolerance and fear not understanding that truth breeds.

Most people who know me now are amazed to learn that as outspoken and unapologetic I can be about religion and sexuality, that when I first realized I was bisexual I was so desperately clinging to the shreds of Christianity I couldn’t just let fall and some sense of belonging to the world I thought it would be better to die than to kiss another woman. I spent two years trying to pretend that I was not in love with one of my best friends (who had already told me she was interested in me, so it wasn’t like she was going to be upset about the whole thing). Looking at that postcard reminds me of two of the most awful years of my life, when I wanted nothing more than to have someone magically change me into someone people could love.

Years (about eleven of them now) and many, many tentative offerings of this information later, I am far less afraid and certainly not ashamed of being bisexual anymore. But that is in large part due to friends who all stood by me when I (finally) told them, my boss (who took it with an amazing amount of grace and no judgement at all).

Still, I suppose this morning, of all mornings I’m more horrified by the kind of hatred and violence religion can inspire. For all that it builds communities and guides many of the most amazing people I’ve met to acts of grace and compassion, I am honestly terrified of the darker side of that coin.

Okay – after that, you deserve something cute and not depressing – click here for the cuteness!

And I’m drinking bottled water and not coffee. Yes, very sad. No, not usual. But as I’m doing everything in molasses time the last few days (I think I may be coming down with something, though I could just be stressed out a bit) I’m doing it now for fear I’ll have forgotten the English language tomorrow or something.

This week I would like to share this postcard from Postsecret for the memories of lots of books. I’ll only babble about one.

I have an old Bible that I am inexplicably fond of, especially considering how I felt about Christianity at the time it came into my possession, with a few notes and a newspaper clipping in it. I once went through page by page to find every marking, every note. The leather cover is worn to suede in the creases around the edges, and I know someone loved this Bible. It’s the Sunday School Teachers’ Edition (it has the cliff notes in the back!) and so I have skimmed my fingers over the pages wondering if it once belonged to a priest.

When I found it, spine twisted, too beaten up already to be treated as it was being treated, I bought it. $15 for a dignified end to a book someone worshiped from was okay by me. I spent the next few weeks searching for what you do with old Bibles (interestingly very few people I have met in the past nine years understand why I would do this, they look at me like I’m out of my mind and suggest old Bibles naturally belong in trash cans) but with no luck. Maybe it’s because my grandmother kept every family Bible of ours she ever had – she has a bookcase full of them, and would take them down and show me my family tree written in ancient ink, updated as people were born, married, and died. Maybe it was the memory of her Bible, with pressed flowers she can identify with events – funerals, dances, weddings. I may not share her faith, but her love for Bibles seems to have found a home in my heart with her love for people, her love for poetry, her love of learning, her love of everyone around her.

I never did find out if there was a proper way to destroy Bibles that were falling apart. It seems odd that we would have disposal rites for flags but not for holy books, but I suppose it’s possible. In any event, years in my possession have acclimated me to it. It travels with me. It lived just below my altar with candles and incense when I had an altar, now it has its own place in the antique wardrobe that smells of time and destiny. I’ve some strange bond with it. Several moves, a fire, and nine years (going on ten this October!) and I think we’re stuck with each other the rest of its life, or the rest of mine.

Anyway – enough of that. I will hopefully catch up to responding to posts and writing things soon. This blank staring at the screen thing I do lately is not cute. Perhaps tomorrow I will curl up in bed with the laptop and try to get some writing done and some rest.

You people have a lovely day. Ciao.

et cetera