house_wren

There are a number of songs that make me cry every time I hear them. One is 'Bring Me Sunshine.' I like it, but I imagine it performed as a slow, sad song, with a sparse arrangement, as if the singer was painfully remembering past happiness. I try to hear it as present happiness, but it always seems full of sorrow.


For many, many years I went once a week to a knitting group, hoping to find some friends. I recently decided to stop going. This is mostly to do with protecting myself, since my immune system is wonky and I take meds that make it lazy, but it also has to do with recognizing that even after all this time, they've remained acquaintances, not friends. It took me a long time to realize my expectations of them were unrealistic. I have felt sad and disappointed and sometimes resentful and sometimes foolish. Today I'm feeling relief, which makes me think this is a good decision.

I'm going to find something special to do once a week, on the day that group meets. I might stay home or leave the house; either way I want to do something out of the ordinary, as a distraction, so I don't dwell on things I have no control over.


Today's nature sightings: 3 hawks, an eagle's nest, a tufted titmouse, a nuthatch. And sunshine. Lots of sunshine.

Reading journals on Dreamwidth is comforting. I like the glimpses into someone's day; it helps me see the importance of the ordinary and helps me value my life as it is (rather than wanting it to be different.) So, thank you, everyone.

In a similar way, the book I'm reading (DAILY RITUALS: HOW ARTISTS WORK, edited and with text by Mason Curry) is comforting. The author has collected information on how 161 writers, painters, composers, scientists (etc) got their work done. Some kept strict schedules, some procrastinated, some drank, some worked 18 hours a day. It doesn't matter how you work is what I take from it. All the advice about the 'right' way to approach creating something, the advice that is sold to people who want to write or paint - it doesn't matter. There's no right way. Do it whatever way you can. Or not. Don't do anything. That's okay too.

All this made me think of the advice, "Just be yourself" which I never heard without quickly being told "Not like that." Ha.

Today I went to the endodontist for a problem with my tooth that the dentist could not fix. The endodontist has referred me to the oral surgeon. Oh. Great. Something...blah blah...the root...the bone...cutting...blah blah...inflammation.... Yikes.

On the bright side, even though I was told today's visit would cost me $200, they did not charge me anything. That is excellent. Now I'm working on accepting that I will have something to endure at the oral surgeon's which may or may not save my tooth. I can't avoid this.

On the way home the sun was low in the sky and was hitting the ice on the trees, making them look like beads. Also saw four bald eagles feasting on dead deer.

Last week there was a dead dear on our property. It took about 4 days for it to be cleaned up. The crows would sit in the trees watching the eagles feast, and as soon as the eagles left, the crows got to eat.

I've been reading McMansionHell.com written by Kate Wagner and it clears my mind. It's so good. I scrolled all the way to the bottom to find her first entry so I could read it in chronological order. Sometimes it makes me laugh out loud. Today I was early for my appointment, so I spent 30 minutes driving around the development by the golf course checking out the McMansions. I could see so many of the features Kate Wagner describes: lawyer foyers, nubs, multiple types of siding, fake columns, huge garages, etc. The best thing, though, was on the drive home, which is about 50 miles through the countryside, I had a new perspective on all the small, 'regular' houses. I could notice the features which seem so familiar as to be unimportant, but that are actually demonstrating good design and architectural principles.

Also today: I saw the crescent moon, which even after seeing it for all these years, still feels like a lucky token.

Because I'm always resting now, I am able to notice what I'm thinking. I see patterns in my thinking that repeatedly led me to rush into action fueled only by enthusiasm. I'm glad to not do this now.

When I was younger, I thought I had a lot of self-awareness. Ha ha very funny. In retrospect, I can see that I was deluded.

I'm living the life of an old cat. I move slowly. I curl up in my bed. I'm cranky when I'm in pain. I envy those who have people who will distract them from illness.

I'm going through my art supplies. I've decided to keep only what will fit in my favorite storage trolley. At the moment, the art room is a monument to chaos - everything is spread out, on the table, the floor, the daybed. I am looking forward to having order restored and a feeling of accomplishment.

More frustrating medical things this week. I do everything I can to care for myself but I cannot prevent biology from doing what it wants to do.

Only Connect is over, but Great British Menu has returned. Hurrah!

After the storm, the man that plows the drive worked all night & all day, and he was here late, near the end of his route. That's fine--one of the pleasures of being retired is not needing to leave the house. Tonight is another snowstorm.

Snow is clinging to the tall stem of a prairie plant, making it look like a pussy-willow.

I read some news. Then I felt afraid.

With some help, I sorted through shelves in the art room and now have a box of shuttles and sley hooks and heddles to give to one friend, and a carton of colored paper and card stock to give to another.

A few days ago, an owl sat on the bluebird house for almost an hour. The woodpeckers that come to the suet feeder flew near the owl again and again; the owl didn't seem to notice and the woodpeckers didn't seem to care. Eventually the local police--the crows--came by and they chased the owl down into the woods. "Nothing to see here; move along." Caw! Caw!

Neighbors got to see three beavers at the newest beaver dam which is about a mile down the gravel road from my house.

I finally got a full night of rest. I slept in the Swedish rocker. It's counterintuitive that this would work...a hard wooden chair. I've tried a soft bed, a hard bed, sitting up in the love seat and then in the used-to-be-super-comfortable chaise lounge; in all cases my neck and shoulder were too pained to let me sleep. In theory, I will get better if I do some particular exercises. So far I can only do a few repetitions at a time before the pain starts.

Rewatching The Fiery Priest (2019 k-drama) and enjoying it. There is a second series coming; it was announced on the SBS awards show. I always enjoy seeing Lee Ha-Nee.

This morning there was sunshine for a short while. Everything sparkled.

1. Relatives took a very old family member who has dementia out to a restaurant and refused to take her to the restroom when she asked. So of course she peed in her pants. WHAT IS WRONG WITH PEOPLE?!!!

2. Big, expensive repairs happening with the heating system today. The workers are wearing masks and I appreciate that a lot.

3. Short winter days mean I won't miss the sunrise; today it was colorful.

4. I want to be making things, but my hands only want rest or ice or warm water. Making things has always been how I renew myself. Not making things leaves me bored.

I feel so grateful for my weekly zoom group for rheumatic disease patients. I always feel lifted up by it. Which is saying a lot, since we are all in pain, on meds, getting gaslit by medical staff, etc etc etc.

The therapist I found has worked out. I met her in person a few times and now we can meet by phone, which makes it manageable. I am still filled with grief, but because she listened to me, I feel better. I've been able to use my imagination to help comfort myself and I've made some decisions about the future.

It was sunny today and there was snow on the ground, so it was gloriously bright.

I'm trying to watch HOTEL DEL LUNA, written by the Hong sisters, and I find it confusing even when I read the recaps on Dramabeans. I don't care about any character so perhaps I'm not paying enough attention. This is in marked contrast to how I feel about their show MASTER'S SUN, which I love and watch over and over and over. Obsessed by it.

Mostly I use Viki, but I also have Netflix. Netflix says I must upgrade the operating system on my 2 year old laptop in order to watch some shows. Not all shows, just some. I don't understand this. I hate updating my computer; it always causes problems.

I'm enjoying reading posts of people in my circle on Dreamwidth. I miss you when you are quiet.

Every week I seem to develop another odd symptom. I looked up the latest one and realized what connects all of these annoyances is another auto-immune illness. This is not unusual; if you have one auto-immune condition, you are likely to get another.

I can see Orion falling down across the sky when I'm in bed. It's something I've seen all my life and I find it comforting. I remember the Pentangle song 'Jack Orion' every time I see it. The song is a based on a Child ballad. It starts out magically and descends into a terrible tale.

Jack Orion was as good a fiddler
As ever fiddled on a string
He could make young women mad
To his tune his fiddle would sing

He could fiddle the fish out of salt water
Or water from a marble stone
Or the milk out of a maiden's breast
Though baby she got none....

I spent most of my life working to not be like my family. That is, to be a kind and compassionate person who listens well. I did manage this, but it took all my attention and also made me focus a lot on other people rather than myself.

Now I have a lot of solitude. I can accomplish things without interruption. I am not distracted by the opinions of others. I can eat what I like, when I like, sleep when I like, do everything according to my whim without concerning myself with whether or not what I'm doing makes someone else uncomfortable. It's lovely. (Although I would like a stronger friendship group.)

Lots of things I enjoyed doing were considered weird, so I either stopped doing them or did them so no one knew. They weren't bad things. I played freecell obsessively, back when each game had a number assigned to it, and I kept track of the ones I couldn't win. I typed a whole book into my laptop so I could always have it with me when I traveled. I ate the same foods everyday and I reread the same books over and over. (Someone once said, with a sneer, "Didn't you understand it the first time?" Jeez.)

I suppose the effort I put into trying to "pass for normal" kept me safer in some situations. But, really, I didn't pass all that well. I worked to be welcoming and friendly and was told I was TOO friendly. I was told I was too polite or too risk-averse or took too many risks. For a long time I thought I was an outsider because my childhood was full of moves from one place to another. Then I thought it was because of the alcoholism that ran in my family. Now I think it's because I have adhd and mostly I think it is because I am autistic.

Masking was my friend and now I am so glad to learn to stop doing it.

Ironic though, because now I am immunocompromised and so wear a physical mask whenever I am around people. Ha.

The rain sounds like the tinnitus that never leaves me.

The woodpeckers are going after the wasps nests on the eaves of the house, a ritual every autumn.

The little cat is asleep on my stiff ankle, which is better than the heating pad.

In order to be less lonely, I need more solitude.

When I was young I rode my bike everywhere. I danced as much as possible. I was both terribly unhappy and terribly happy. My adhd brain was a barrier that kept me from accomplishing the kinds of things society calls successful. My goals were fantasies, evidently. My successes were personal, almost impossible to explain to anyone but a close friend.

Now I am old and ill. I gave my bike away. I only dance alone in my room late at night for a few minutes at a time. Sometimes it makes me cry even when I enjoy it.

I have a new, uncomfortable symptom to add to my collection. I went to the lab so we can see if it's due to an infection. Then I was supposed to have a tele-health visit with a nurse but after 45 minutes without success, we gave up and she called me on the phone. Everyone I dealt with was patient and kind and that also made me feel like crying.

Life is easier if I can envision a future, even if that vision is a fantasy. I'm struggling to see anything ahead of me. It makes me appreciate how I got through life, because the impulsive, impractical decisions I made still propelled me forward. I always had an idea, a hope. Often, people let me know how stupid I was or how 'brave' (code word for stupid) or how misguided. That was true; I was misguided in that I had no guidance. I was isolated, had almost no support and somehow I survived.