Imagine's Journal

So when I was a kid, my aunties would get me wildly inappropriate things for holiday gifts. Sometimes these were purchased at a fair amount of expense. Invariably, they were unwearable. Scarf and hat sets in vivid polyester or outfits which had never been fashionable in America, well, ever. Even though I felt let down, I still recognized the thought. I mean, they had gone out and chosen something for me. For me! They'd wrapped it and hoped that it was something I would like. That was the bit that I relished. It was done for me. With me in mind. My Aunt Rita was a classic. She would shop at the rather nice department store and pick out these bizarre ensembles (no doubt helped by a savvy sales person who spotted her coming a mile away) and have them professionally wrapped for us. For me! It was like getting a gumball in a Tiffany's package from someone who was convinced that you LOVE gumballs. Which you do not, but still. But, youknow, still.

We lived across from the Junction Ice Cream stand when I was a kid. Talk about the luck! As it turned out, our weekly allowance (could it be mere coincidence?) was exactly the cost of one, single scoop ice cream in a sugar cone. My oldest sister liked Pistachio and Mint Chocolate Chip as I recall. My other sister liked lots of different flavors. There was always much discussion over the more exotic choices. My Dad was crazy about the ones with nuts and carmel. . . Butter Pecan, maybe? I forget what the flavor was called. And, maybe it was a guy thing, but my brother liked Maple Walnut, another nut and sweet combination. My Mum usually chose vanilla, but not always. As for me, I got chocolate every time. Always. Week in and week out year over year, I got chocolate. Why question perfection, I thought. I know what I like. Chocolate makes me happy. For whatever reason, this got under the skin of my next older sister. She kept trying to tempt me to other flavors. I stuck with chocolate. At least until one day when I simply didn't. Working my careful way around a single scoop of home-style banana ice cream, I had an epiphany. I knew then that chocolate had become more of an emotional habit than something I actually *liked* on it's own merits. While chocolate was fine, banana rocked the world and strawberry, well. Strawberry *did* kinda roll.

What's weird? What's weird is when you think you know something. Really know it, and know how you feel about it, then, in a single instant of revelation all is reversed. Okay, maybe not *reversed* but perhaps permanently changed. I mean, it's not like chocolate sucks or anything. It's fine. It just isn't really what I thought it was.

Sonnet 116


Let me not to the marriage of true minds

Admit impediments. Love is not love

Which alters when it alteration finds,

Or bends with the remover to remove:

O no! it is an ever-fixed mark

That looks on tempests and is never shaken;

It is the star to every wandering bark,

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks

Within his bending sickle's compass come:

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out even to the edge of doom.

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.



William Shakespeare

(1564 - 1616)

Things I Have Learned from Internet Dating Sites;

1) Most men who use internet dating sites simply want to locate sex partners.

2) Some men who use internet dating sites get very angry if you don't want to have sex with them.

3) Often, the username will offer great insights to the inner workings of the user . . . Examples may include;

'NDSLuT2DAy' and 'PrtyBoi4U' . This might illuminate the greater or lesser depth of that user.

4) Some guys are semi-stealth. These ones seem to be the better-looking and brighter ones. They say stuff like, 'to be with me, a woman must be in touch with her inner spirituality and the sensuous nature of the universe' and then later on, they mention that they are in a relationship. . . *OH*. I get it.

5) Somewhere in there must be mentioned the uneducated (just wow) and the PEOPLE WHO WRITE IN ALL CAPS NO MATTER WHAT. Words fail.

6) Worst of all from where I'm sitting? Really nice people who have some kind of a broken thing inside them that makes it impossible for them to form (or even consider forming) normal relationships with others. Yet they long for connection. That really rather makes me sad just to think about it. I ran into just one so far, but my heart goes out to him. No other part of me will join that, but still. He seemed so genuine and, once I figured out his deal, so lost.


So, for all my new friends (2Hawt4Yew, Male4U, Yng&hrd. . .) good luck and let's all keep open minds.

1) Okay, so. I made curry almost totally from scratch today. I did use prepared curry powder, so shoot me. Other than that, it was the real deal. Pounded lemon grass and beaten ginger; sweet potato smacked upside the head. We had it all. I used real, unsweetened coconut milk. It totally rocked. My son requested toast and eggs. That is all.

2) The coffee date with the newly met man went well, I think. Except that he is leaving. So hello and goodbye, Scott. Oh, and he told me that he'd googled me and found my Livejournal. Well, he didn't say so in as many words, but I knew what he meant. I liked him. He seemed like an actual person whom I could enjoy. I wonder if he figured out that I am rather hard of hearing. There were a couple of places where he covered his mouth with his hand and I got nothing. He's a light tenor. I wonder if he sings. . . Not that it matters. But anyways. I managed to maintain my reputation for going out with guys who are prettier than I. Interestingly, he tossed an arm around me by way of adios, and it had a completely different effect on me than when Kelly executed the hug of death. Hmmm.

3) Was smiled at by strangers (I think I may have been smiling goofily myself) in the grocery store. Was chased by Canadian Geese while riding my bike by the river. Freaking geese!

4) I love Sundays best of all because Sunday is wash the sheets day. I can hardly wait to go to bed. Not that there would be any other thing going on with that. At all.

It’s no secret that I’ve gotten tired of being on my own. Besides, my slouchy adolescent plans to launch himself into the world in the next few years. . . This will make my dinner table a whole lot emptier that it was. So, since I don’t want to date anyone from work (and precious few from work want to date me, truth be told) I have taken a friend up on his recommendation of a dating site that worked wonders for him. So the game is on.

What I find fascinating about this dating site is how many VERY young men seem to be viewing my profile and even sometimes emailing me through the site. The only thing I can figure is that they have high hopes of finding a Sugar-Mama to keep them in a lifestyle with which they would like to become accustomed. It’s a shame so few of them can engage my attention. Ah, bah. I can't afford one anyways. If I can’t afford a cleaner, I certainly can’t afford a Boy Toy. Then, of course, there are the Old Guys. No, not the fit and trim hot-looking steel-gray-haired athletes that you see in Geratol commercials, either. I mean the fat, gross, kinda kinky and perverted (but not in a good way) guys. Ewwwww. I’d describe further, but I don’t want to be responsible for putting that image into your head. Speaking of fat just earlier, this topic is done to death on mens profiles. Lots and lots of men mention that they don’t want to be accosted by fatties. Men from all walks of life and of all ages and races go on (and on) about this. The one thing that’s pretty consistent about these fellows? Well (drumroll) they’re all fat. Pardon my saying, but to clarify, unfuckably fat. Sorry gang. I just said a bad word. But it’s so true. I can’t help not feeling attracted to overweight people, but I CAN avoid mentioning it on my profile. Good manners, as my Nana used to say, are free. I may allude to something like, “prefers men who take care of themselves”. I think we all get the picture. So, anyways, can you spell ironic? Fat men don’t want fat women. Gee, I wonder why the divorce, huh? Huh?

And, having been around both cats and engineers, I find that the documentary is both accurate as well as amusing.

Great song.

Just something I made a while back that I just found by accident. Kind of an art project.

Here is some news about my good friend Allan who had an accident, causing brain injury. His brother David sent this update.

Hello,
I wanted to send out an update regarding Allan’s progress and plans for the future. Allan continues to do well, improving in his skills in managing in the world and becoming more independent. He spends more time out at stores, restaurants and long walks in parks. He is getting used to shopping for himself, making some of his meals, doing laundry etc. His attitude continues to be quite positive and his mood is nearly always upbeat and friendly and with a good sense of humor. He is still at the residential program in Easton; however last week we visited a program in he will likely move to when an opening becomes available. Allan’s treatment team feels that he is currently ready to move to a program with less professional staff and in which the residents function more independently. The program in Weymouth is run by the same company that runs the Easton program. In Easton there are medical staff on site and therapies such as OT, PT speech therapy etc. performed on site. In Weymouth such therapies are provided elsewhere and there is no on-site medical staffing. Most of the people who live at the Weymouth program go out during the day to vocational program or some sort of employment. The program serves seven men who have suffered brain injury. The men at the program exhibit a fairly wide range of functioning, some functioning at a higher level than Allan and some lower. There is 24 hour staffing and the level of staff support varies according to individual needs. The facility was very nice, with large, open space and a lot of room. One of the men started a vegetable garden in the back yard last year. Allan, my father, Bruce and I visited the program last Wednesday and the staff and residents we met were all quite friendly. At this point we are waiting for one of the residents to move to open a bed, with an expected time frame of a month or two.
 We are also in the process of planning a day structure for Allan. Currently he attends therapies during the day but the treatment team feels that he is at the point that engaging in more normal activities, out in the world, would be more beneficial for him. The program had arranged to send a vocational specialist with Allan for a visit to Forest Floors to evaluate Allan’s ability to do some part time or volunteer work there.
Medically Allan has remained quite stable. Since he has been in the Easton program he has been weaned off all of his regular medications except folic acid (a vitamin B supplement.) The program does plan to start a trial of a new medication to see if it will help with some occasional dizziness that Allan experiences when exercising or looking up or down. Allan continues to have some challenges with his balance but is able to walk well over distances and somewhat uneven terrain.
Allan recently had follow-up neuropsychological testing at Braintree Hospital. On a standard measure of intellectual functions Allan scored overall in the low average range. This score was brought down by deficits in psychomotor speed (how fast one performs tasks involving thinking and manipulating things), working memory (the ability to hold something in memory while performing other cognitive tasks, (e.g. Say the months of the year backwards) and attention. On other measures of intellectual functioning Allan scored in the average range of functioning. Generally speaking, Allan has some ongoing deficits in specific cognitive areas, such as processing (thinking) speed, motor coordination, memory and attention. Most of the higher level intellectual skills are at least at the average range with some significantly better than average. These scores show some improvement from the testing completed six months ago.
Finally, Allan spent last Saturday with Bruce, Hannah, and Matt canoeing on the Nemaskett River. I was only there to help with getting started, but Bruce reported that Allan paddled well throughout the afternoon and did well portaging and carrying equipment up the riverbanks. I’m sure he had a great time.
If anyone would like more information or details about any of the above, please feel free to get in touch.
 
                                                                                                                                         Love,
                                                                                                                                         David


There isn't a whole lot to add to that, except to remind the reader that before the accident, Allan was a very brilliant man. Not that it matters really. From what I can tell, the 'who he is' is still there. I did fine reading this right up until I got to the 'love David'. I never even knew David very well, and that closing was not directed at me anyways as this was forwarded to me from yet another of the many St. James brothers. It just. I dunno. It just lifted the whole memo up an emotional level. Go find your wife or your husband or your children. Hug them. That is all.
 

When youre weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes, I will dry them all;
Im on your side. when times get rough
And friends just cant be found,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
When youre down and out,
When youre on the street,
When evening falls so hard
I will comfort you.
Ill take your part.
When darkness comes
And pains is all around,
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silverbird,
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
If you need a friend
Im sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Just a great song.

I admit it’s been fun. Suddenly slim really does change everything, little did I know. So it all started as a bid for greater health. Woopsie, that’s a lie. It all began because a friend of mine started to pay attention to me in a boy-pays-attention-to-girl kind of a way. Effortlessly, while basking in the pretty yellow sunshine of his delightful attention, my ass started to get smaller and my hair started becoming larger. Eventually, I started investing actual money in the haircut which, by local accounts, rendered me (heaven help us) ‘in style’ by somebody’s notion of the thing. And the while the ass continued to get smaller, the heels suddenly started becoming higher (and higher). Lo and behold, Out of the Clear Blue Sky, people who scarcely knew me were being all nice and asking after my weekend. Since I’m a social klutz, it took me a while to realize that these people had not suddenly become kind and generous. . . I simply look different from how I had looked. Intrigued, started to pay more attention and realized that boys like collarbones. Don’t ask, since I have no idea of how collarbones could possibly be someone’s ‘thing’. But it works. If I want to have a good day and have people treat me gently, all I really have to do is wear clothes that fit, are in reasonable condition and style; include high heels and show my collarbones. Truth be told, I’d have been doing this all along if I’d only realized. It even works on women inasmuch as they look to the men for leadership. If a powerful guy smiles benignly at you, all the women who see it are completely aware that it would behoove them to treat you well. It’s like dominoes. It’s unexpectedly amusing. I keep wondering if I’m the only one who sees through all this.


Meanwhile, this phenomenon has wrought havoc with what used to be a very quiet and stable social life. I didn’t date and that was that. Nobody would make the mistake of thinking that coffee or lunch was actually a DATE with me. It’s just a meal or a beverage. That simple life is mine no more. Now, all of a sudden, everything as *implications*. I know (I know), you don’t have to tell me, I can see my own picture. I’m not even a pretty girl! Yet still. Young guys don’t want to hang out with me anymore for fear someone will think it’s a date (I’m middle aged) and men who I am not considering dating have begun to make it clear that they assume that we are in a ‘relationship’ because I spent fifteen minutes reassuring them about something over a muffin in the cafeteria. I swear I am not exaggerating. It is about the weirdest thing EVER.

For the time being, I’m pretty much stumped. I think I’ll try to enjoy myself, but at the same time, try to figure out the rest the rules as quickly as I can. Oh, and espadrilles. I need some espadrilles -- with heels. Spring weather is just ‘round the corner!

This just in (three months ago) from the Onion. I can't explain why I found this to be so funny, but what can I say. I laughed. No offense meant.

Well. Has anyone in the history of our nation been able to speak to the issue of race better before this moment? I think not.

  I’ve often told friends that I can’t get addicted even when I seemingly try to. I mean, as a kid I smoked cigarettes, and couldn’t really get addicted. I was able to quit without incident when smoking became inconvenient (read, I wised up). I lived for almost ten years with an alcoholic partner and never could really get to where having alcohol in the house mattered to me. When I was in High School, my peers were really into any number of addictive things. It’s not so much that I “didn’t inhale”, as that I didn’t care one way or the other. Wait. Not completely true. I never liked that out-of-control feeling comes with the taking of drugs. This is actually a bad thing during episodes when my doctor is trying to get me into the MRI machine. Especially if I’ve NOT taken my valium as she prescribed and as a result CANNOT be made to be slid into the scary, close cave that is the MRI machine. At great expense, I might add, and in the middle of the night (they schedule MRIs 24/7). I’ll simply have to stop dislocating my limbs at this rate. But still. Point is, I don’t get addicted to things. I don’t have that ‘addictive personality’ I guess. Which brings us up to the present.

 

 I had/have a situation going on in my life which is clearly Not Good for Me. So much so (so embarrassingly so) that I won’t go into the details here. So, what’s the problem, then? Just drop the ‘situation’. I try. I am trying. I have tried. Let’s conjugate the verb to try. It seems that I can manage to avoid this particular thing-that-is-not-good-for-me for about twenty four hours at a time. Then I start seeking it out, even as I repeatedly keep kicking myself knowing that, well, this isn’t good for me. Most recently, I’ve dropped all internet links to this particular not-good-for me thing. All that accomplished is that I must now Google to re-find the path when my self-control slips. What the heck is wrong with me? This Is Not Good For Me. Like smoking or gambling or drugs. Well, perhaps not *that* bad for me, but still. My intellect clearly tells me that this is Something to Be Avoided. So why do I keep seeking it out? Might I be experiencing some form of addiction? I’m starting to think so. The ‘reward’ as the operant conditioning folk might wonder about, is that it feels so darned good. Well, when it doesn’t make me abjectly miserable.  But there's the thing. I feel. I feel very strongly as a result of this stimulus. Not all good, mind you, but loud. Sometimes I wonder if it isn’t simply that feeling anything, good or bad, beats the hell out of feeling nothing at all. It’s a drama addiction, I think. Before the reader jumps to any inappropriate conclusions, let me clarify that this particular addiction impacts only on me. This isn’t about anyone else and it’s not about pornography (one of my sister’s chief annoyances). There is no torrid affair with a married man going on or anything like that. This is much more stupid and, on a maturity scale, is approximately middle-school level (for my part). Which doesn't make it suck any less for me.

 

I’ve often thought that maturity is overrated, but just now I think that I need spring to come, and sooner rather than later.  

 

 

 

  I saw an image of a buddy’s front yard the other day. This isn’t a neighbor, so the front yard was unfamiliar. It looked rather like some neighborhoods in Boston tend to look. The houses were so close together that they may have even shared a wall and the yards were all in the back. Steps lead straight to the street. Streets are lined on both sides with vehicles. I think I might have a mild form of claustrophobia. I mean, the image that ran thusly; steps, street, car, car, car, building on the other side of the street – made me feel anxious. Same day that that I saw that image, I had been skiing at the park across the street from my neighborhood. To get there, I went through the neighborhood with my skis on my shoulder, walking past a few ten and twelve acre fields covered in snow. I snapped the bindings in place to ski the woods from my street through to a larger park (the Village neighborhood to County Farm Park via Redbud Park trail). Tall, tall trees made that rushing sound of wind in the bare branches. Overhead, a hawk was circling. I expect that the hawk was hoping to get lucky should I kick up anything small and mammalian. I could hear the brook rushing before I got to it and I’m not so good at hearing. All the precipitation has caused it to be in spate, although not as high and fast as it will be in just a few short weeks. The overall effect was that of space and openness, though. Or at least more so than I had been giving it credit for. Without anything to compare it to, I had considered my little ‘hood and the adjoining park system to be too ‘public’ and way too domesticated. Key thing here is ‘with nothing to compare it to’. Or worse, I was comparing it to rural Tennessee where the privacy and wilderness is almost absolute. It was in Tennessee that the coyotes would serenade (read terrorize) the domestic pets nightly.  My front yard was part of a deer trail to the creek and once a wild turkey walked right onto the lawn. In that context, Ann Arbor is too crowded, too public and way too domesticated. But then. That depends on what you compare it to, and on individual tolerances. Funny what you forget and what you remember.  When I first came to Ann Arbor, I had considerable choice about where I wanted to live. Okay, I did *not* have a choice weather or not to live in any of the gigundous McMansions (not that I would want one) hereabouts, but other than that. Interestingly, I chose the Village. It *did* feel a bit constrained and managed compared to the relative wilderness that I was coming from, but not nearly so much as most of the other neighborhoods in the city which use space less wisely and have much less by way of visual vista.

 

  Thinking about it, I realize that I’d actually seen other images of small bits of the same pal’s neighborhood previously and it had all looked very attractive. I guess new things attract me. Shiny. That and any taste of the exotic or a whiff of adventure is appealing.  It’s just funny what you forget and what you remember – and sometimes when a memory hits just the right spot, I think I may have a touch of claustrophobia.