Sunday, February 16, 2020

Gratitudes + things that are making me happy


• Several days of spring-like, hopeful weather to remind me that life is even better sometimes than I remembered it could be

• The sound of palm trees in the wind, especially at night

• Seeing flowering broccolini for the first time, and learning that it is a sign of deliciousness

• Wild beautiful front yards with humble ordinary houses inside them

• Sprinting to make a crosswalk light at the end of a jog

• Plants that remind me of Australia

• Eating tangerines in Hebrew class

• Magnolia blossoms and plum blossoms

• A subway busker with a bright green clarinet

• Flowering rosemary

• A new issue of Womankind to read on my breaks at work

• So many stripey shirts

• My carpool to work, and working on my knitting to stay sane when we are stuck in traffic

• An excellent clothing swap among a few friends

• Not starting work earlier than I'm scheduled to - occupying myself with a book, my journal, etc. if I arrive early

• Getting better at leaving work shortly after when my day is scheduled to end. Being realistic about what can wait, and doing what can't wait earlier in the day.

• Waxed fabric wraps for food

• Potato carrot onion soup

• Weekend snuggles

• Drifting away from Goodreads a bit, and recording my reading more in my own journal

Sunday, February 9, 2020

Escaping north, part two


A chilly walk on the beautiful headlands of Mendocino. I love northern/seaside/winter colors. Best of all, all three at once.

Part one here.

Saturday, February 8, 2020

February: predictable


February: predictable.
Eating pomelo
and tangerines, eating
my baseless sadness.
These words scratchy-dry
with rust, like certain muscles in
my feet, thighs, and hips.
I go to make them sore today.
I know what to do. No shame
in being detected as what you are.

Sunday, February 2, 2020

Escaping north


For our anniversary, my girlfriend and I drove north and stayed for two nights. I had been to that part of California only once, when I was a child, and that wilder northern coast had been occupying some space in my imagination lately. It was cold, lovely, and quiet -- a welcome escape from the seemingly never-ending hustle of the Bay Area.

And I took my new-old camera, a popular vintage 35mm camera my parents gave me for Christmas as a replacement for my now deceased (but still beloved) old Russian 35mm companion. So I have these, and a few more photos to share from it.

Part two here.

Monday, January 27, 2020

Thoughts after a man throws an open drink out of his car at me


• Wow, people really hate women. And cyclists.

• Dear self, blessed be the fruit of your decade-plus of practice being an uppity nasty woman, i.e. your quick mouth and quick middle finger,

• (Is he going to get out of his car and try to fight me?)

• Random man, your inability to hit a moving target from a moving car is a sign from above that heaven and nature did not design you for persecuting strange women exercising their freedom of speech and movement, and you should Stop.

• Isn't it silly that women ever use the word "bitch" against other women?

• Isn't it silly that I spend any time at all thinking about whether or not to do things that bring me enjoyment, peace, or wellness? I feel motivated and almost delighted by the clear passion of another for my unhappiness. My inner contrarian is never stronger than in these moments.

I'm including photos of my Women's March sign, because relevant. I added the quote on the back hastily this year while en route to the march; you can read the full poem it comes from here.


Wednesday, January 8, 2020

Tuesday night, watching myself

I eat some rich chocolate 90 seconds before brushing my teeth. I wear a cardigan my grandmother made for herself. I pause to listen for a second to the whisper of TV voices behind my roommate's door before hitting the thunk of the stair light switch. I file away tickets for three upcoming stage performances. I seat my ass on a block of cork on the floor for approximately 90 seconds. I become uneasy at the absence of my $60 worth of new postage stamps, write a text message about worrying that someone is stealing from me again, and find them 90 seconds later. I open a book I intend to give away as a gift and discover that I no longer want to.