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| Tuesday, May 17, 2011 |
| Families are Forever |
| I should be packing. I should be tossing things in the garbage bin. I should be taking a damned nap. I am so hell bent today I am bothering myself. I have eight brothers and sisters. Just last year my third-to-the-oldest brother didn't recognize me in a public venue, though I stood in front of him grinning like a fool for five minutes straight. I tried several times to plan parties to bring at least the sisters together, only one unfailingly showed. I am going to get into a lot of trouble with this note, I am sure. But I am past caring. I lived for many years thousands of miles from my 'kin'. There was a viable excuse then for distance. I heard from them more, if you can believe it. Now I am exactly two hours in any direction of all of them, save one, who is thousands of miles from me. Apparently the roads can be travelled by me just as easily, the phone can be lifted by me as well, emails can be written, people can be contacted, at my behest. I suppose if I want to know my family, it is up to me to make the effort. I do not think any of them are willing. Is this what adulthood does? I remember brothers so tall their heads scraped the ceiling, they would swoop me up over their shoulders like a sack of potatoes and tickle me til I couldn't breathe. I remember sisters so beautiful, I wished with all my heart I could be them. We had pickle eating contests, we bottled vegetables, sticky arm against sticky arm, cutting kernals off of corn, shucking beans and skinning tomatoes. We roamed the confines of our tiny town, discovering hide outs, playing tag, offering help to our neighbors. We crouched in the heat of the sun, weeding the never ending rows of vegetables in the garden. We climbed trees, more often than not, I had to be rescued. We fished.. always munching on licorice and bbq potato chips. Dad taught us how to bait our hooks, how to gut our fish, mom taught us how to chase a fish off the line, right into the water, and grab the things in a flurry of words and splashes, she rose with gasping fish clasped so hard in her hands it was gushing blood. We sang in the car, we entertained one another in church (yes, I attended church quite faithfully for a portion of my life), we brushed and braided one another's hair, and soothed each other when shit hit the fan. We jumped to the defence of one another, unless, of coarse it were the parents that attacked, then we blamed one another. Sometimes we would take the fall for each other. Thank you for that. We beat each other up, spit words into each others faces, and apologized when we made one another cry. We attended events through out our lives to celebrate one another, to celebrate accomplishments, to love one another. To love one another. To love. Which is not what we are doing in our adult lives. Loving one another. There is church. There is work. There are kids. There is life. There is no priority here. We do not love one another. We don't even recognize each other. We don't know a thing about the people we have become. We will definitely come running for a crisis, we will raise funds, we will rescue each other.. thats our duty. But will we celebrate each other? No. We won't even commit to a few hours visit. I am a lost abandoned girl. I have eight brothers and sisters. Two parents. I know nothing of most, save their names. |
posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 4:10 PM  |
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| Tuesday, June 08, 2010 |
| Something |
| I've spent the morning drinking coffee, making the bacon, listening to music online. I checked my email, the status of my friends all over the place, posted some comments, and so now bare with me. I am feeling creative, I want to share. Anything, something. I feel as though I don't want to bother the world with my blather. Because what do people do with their lives in the every day. They work. They bleed. They feel their momentary torturous monotony. I am bored. I don't have work today, but feel like reaching out. Reaching with all my might. But to whom? Do I feel like immersing myself in humanity? No. Do I feel like painting? No. Do I really want to be someone's burden for the day? No. I thought, perhaps I will shop. It's not appealing. So what do people do, when they have nothing else, and they want to be involved, but don't want to pull from a place no one else will really understand? Blog. Will anyone read it? Probably not. But, at least its out there. I should be productive. I should be cleaning out closets. Organizing something. I should be working. But, when there is no work to be had... what else is there? I could read a book, but I don't want to dunk myself in someone else's theology. I could watch a movie.. but again with the living in another's fantasy... I could go for a walk, but it is hot. I don't like the heat. Perhaps a swim, you say? Nah. The pool was clogged by errant children throwing rocks. Its noon. I am whining about boredom with plenty to do. When you crave something extraordinary, there has to be an outlet. Maybe not. I guess I will tackle a closet or two. Rid my house of excess crap. Useless shit that just sits like a reminder... stuff is just stuff. Can't take it with you when you die. Having not seen nor used it in a few years adds testiment to the fact that it belongs in a bin somewhere else. I am disappointed with this adult life. All through childhood, I yearned for more years. In my teen years, I wanted my twenties. In my twenties, I yearned for stability. In stability, I yearn for adventure. Is this human nature? To always want more and more and more? To want something different from what you have? Not just more material things, but wisdom.. experience.. something. Something. As a child, I had the extraordinary circumstance of eight brothers and sisters.. a disease that made all of the hair fall from my head. As a teen, I travelled across the nation, eating hot dogs boiled in stands on street corners. I moved to Alaska, had three children and played in a band. I have worn every imaginable color in the spectrum on my head. I have painted, drawn, sung, danced, served, and feel like I am standing still. Completely frozen in this time. Like life is sort of slipping by while I am held behind glass.. watching it take place. I am not close to my family. I have a handful of friends. I work on occasion, when the opportunity arrives. I am bored. Is it a lack of melodrama? Is it a lack of 'to do'? I want to fill my life with color. With beauty. With uncommon imagery. Something. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 12:18 PM |
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| Wednesday, May 26, 2010 |
| A contented sigh interrupting the chaos of this life |
Yesterday I went to a spa in Salt Lake with a couple of co-workers and friends. The first thing that struck me about the place was how un spa like it looked from the outside. Not all things can be judged by their shell. So, with out much trepidation, we enter its soft, mimimalist insides. The place was pristine, linear. There wasn't a speck of dust to be found. Not anywhere. The only flaw I could really detect aesthetically, were the scratches on the floor from heavy furniture being rearranged.
We were given rubber slippers and waffle patterned kimono bath robes. We walked through a papered sliding door, where we are given a small introduction to the spa. We change and make our way to a very well lit, clean relaxation area. They offer a buffet of tea, water with cucumber and lemon slices, water with orange slices, almonds and dried apricots. There are books on a small glass table in the center of the room, large white cushioned chairs surround the table. There are live orchids in a large pot facing us.
We are early, so we decide to enjoy the amenities. There is a black tiled steam room with a beautiful geode on display. It is nearly the only thing descernable about the space, other than the reflected white of our wraps. The steam is eucalyptus infused, and leaves you feeling like you are cleansed, from your core out. After a while we visit the sauna. It is dry in there, and the heat melts our plastic water cups. We talk, a kind of heat induced delirium loosing our tongues.
All of the treatment rooms held representation of the five elements; Fire-candles, water-tub or shower or sounds, earth-orchids or plants of some kind enhabited each space (these were real, not plastic replicas), metal- from the adornments on the walls to the steel basins for bathing, wood- there were wooden chairs tall wooden poles in large pots in corners wooden shelves wood and rice paper doorways.
Each woman had a different experience, I am sure. Mine is one I wish to keep, to savor, but I can say it was nothing short of incredible. The therapists were unassuming, polite, articulate, focused and very skilled. There was a sense of sincere care for the body, the mind, the makeup that is who I am. Which is what I had been needing. So much so that the feeling of wholeness has lingered into today, appealing to me to be healthier, to care for myself and my family better. To be wholesome.
I am truly greatful for this momentary escape. Even though it wasn't an escape to another world, it really felt like it was. A contented sigh interrupting the chaos of this life. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 10:32 AM |
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| Wednesday, February 17, 2010 |
| Quiet |
There's just something about the roll and crash of the drum. The sound of a longing voice, singing of love lost and rain. Such joy in the crisp, clean blues scale, reverberating from keys. There is an appreciation for the guitar, but the more subdued version. Who needs ripping riffs of electric discoarse? A deep bass issues lazily, as though it just occured to its strings that its time to sing.
Flowers on the table, perched in a yellow pot painted by small hands. A sprig in the bottle blue, contents long sipped and gone. It is a day of introspection, a day of deep contemplation, a day the clouds threaten to burst. Rather they float along, various shades of white, gray and black. The mountain hides cleverly behind a veil of fog.
Phone calls ignored, the bath is drawn. Too early for champagne and strawberries, though the scene calls for it. A book, perhaps, something new, heavy and strongly written, with just enough left to the imagination, so the reader can relate. A cup of hot hibiscus tea, sent from a faraway land in a package that makes the heart soar.
Quiet. A hunger awakens. Time to lunch. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 12:09 PM |
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| Coffee at McDonalds |
I don't care what the reputation is. The American Fork McDonald's employees, especially the morning shift are WAY too enthusiastic. The girl that took my order this morning asked me very congenially, or rather the pre-recorded order greeter version of that girl, if I would like to try a hot chocolate topped generously with whipped cream and chocolate syrup. I must admit, it did give me pause for thought. That really did sound good. Then, knowing that was a recorded message, I suddenly felt really uncomfortable. Do I politely decline? Will the person on the headset be ready for me? Will they know what I am refusing? I stammered a no. The girl taking my order actually giggled while asking what she could get me. I wondered if she knew of my trepidation. Am I supposed to order the hot cocoa? Did I make a mistake in judgement? I order a mocha coffee. Large. I hate mocha. She all but sang my total to me. Curiosity piqued, I had to see who this very very morning morning person was. When I pulled up, she was there, leaning down against the tiny metal platform that is a window sill. "HI!!! And good morning!" she shouts out to me. As if I am 400 miles away. She has several different neon colored loops decorating the outer curve of her ear. Top to bottem. She is a bit chubby, with perfect teeth. I smile and hand her my money. She makes my change and thrusts it with my receipt into my window. "There you go!!! You have a fantastic day, and ENJOY that mocha!!!" Have I traversed to an alternate universe? I pull to the next window. A handsome latino man pushes my coffee into my hand, leaning his whole upper body out the window (I feared he might fall between the small space of my car and the building) while saying, (all in one fluid motion) "Goodmorningma'amhaveagreatdayenjoyyourcoffee!!" The window slides closed almost as quickly as it had opened.
I am sitting in my car. I am dumbfounded. Perhaps not yet awake. I sip my mocha. The window opens again. "Everythingokay?" Oh. Oh! Yes, yes I'm sorry, I don't know why I am just sitting here. Only I didn't say any of that. I just looked at him funny and threw the car in gear, pulling away. Nothing like being your socially awkward self first thing in the morning. Helps get the blood pumping. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 9:09 AM |
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| Thursday, February 04, 2010 |
| Peace, Love, and Kindness to each other... no I haven't been smoking anything. |
Today, while I was in the bank, listening to their horrendous elevator music and waiting in line.. I had an epiphany. Well. Not so much as an epiphany, but a realization. There were only two tellers, and the line quickly formed through the lobby. Its a smaller branch, and so I was surprised that so many people had converged all at once. I was third in line, but had waited for around ten minutes in total. The two tellers, one on the phone helping a customer, the other busily dealing with another upset customer, were seemingly swamped. There were customers at each of the specialty banking desks, the bank manager trying to sort out a mess or two with them. Behind me a man stood reading an article from a finance magazine he plucked off a table when he arrived, which was five short minutes after I had. Concluding his business with the specialty banker, the manager, half ran to his office, apologizing to the horde of people in the lobby for the wait. The man behind me snidely remarks,"Well, then lets us DO something about it, shall we?" I had a sudden rush of annoyance with this impatient man. The bank manager took up a station, and began completing transactions with great vigor. I was up to the window in seconds. The teller caring for me blushed and apologized for the 'long wait'. I laughed heartily and half turned, "It really, REALLY wasn't that long. You are doing a fantastic job!" . We conducted our business in a matter of moments, the teller was quick and efficient with his duties, and I was impressed. When I turned to leave, I came eye to eye with snide man jackassery... he half snorted as he rushed the teller window. And then it dawned on me. Like a light shining from an ultraviolet bulb... people are too rushed these days, so rushed that they unwittingly, or perhaps very wittingly trample other people because of their sense of self importance.
Recently I have been involved in a battle of sorts, with some people that have the art of jackassery down to a perfected T. Obtusely, they argue their 'side' of things, never really stopping to realize the kind of hurt, and hypocrasy they are spouting. It is important that when accusing one person or another of atrocities, or unatoned sin, that you check your own moral code... to be sure you aren't guilty of commiting those atrocities against the very person being accused. Life is hard. There is nothing in it that is certain or guaranteed.. except perhaps that it will eventually end. People experience a multitude of different things. Maybe the manager of the bank was having a really hard day. Maybe he woke up late, stepped in dog pooh from the neighbor's dog on the way to his car, and walked into work to find two of his employees called in sick with the flu. Maybe the people shouting about the boulders I have dealt with in my life are blissfully unaware of the hurt they are imposing. Maybe not. Maybe they want to inflict pain. Then again, maybe they are having growing pains. Maybe they woke up one day, realized they hadn't chosen to actively participate in their responsibilities of this life, and needed someone to point the finger at.
The point is, that it really doesn't matter. It isn't necessary to be a jackass to someone else, because you perceive in one way or another that that person is your mortal enemy for causing a moment or even a lifetime of uncomfortable grief. There isn't any satisfaction in entering into battle with someone, or imposing yourself on someone for your own gain. How hard is it to just say, "yes, there was a bit of a wait, but its okay.. because I was able to read a really great article in this magazine I found in your lobby." How hard is it to say," yes, I have chosen to negate my obligations in this life, and I am sorry, I would like to rectify that now." Then actively prove that the statement made is true by DOING it.
I don't mean to sound preachy. I have been guilty a time or two of being ugly, of saying brash and rude things to people because I felt they had wronged me in some way or another. I just feel... well, okay, its going to sound ultra cheesy, but this verse has been rolling in my head for days, "Let us all speak kind words to each other..." I feel better when I respond to something I don't like in a positive way. When I open the proverbial can of worms to negativity, I feel like ... shit. For hours I feel bad. For days sometimes. Its worse when I am 'mean' to someone I don't know.. and for what? Because I had to stand in line? There are definately worse things out there. You cause someone to feel bad, and that ripples on through the people in that person's life, then in turn ripples to all the people in the lives of the people in the original person's life... and so on. Pretty soon, a whole community of people are infected by your negative vibe. Lets pass some kindness around. Lets have patience for one another. Everyone has a responsibility in this world... some of that responsibility should be to one another.
*sigh*
Now that THAT is out of my system, I'm going to go lie in a giant field of daisies, and dream of world peace. ;) Love to all. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 2:54 PM |
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| Tuesday, January 05, 2010 |
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So, today is day three nicotine free. I had a half of a thirty two ounce Pepsi on Sunday, and have been able to keep to the guidelines I made for myself. I'm careful about eating, and portion.. which is incredibly hard to do when you quit smoking. Everything smells so good. Everything. I can smell a fresh cut apple from a mile away, no joke. Taste too! Everything, everything everything I eat tastes like its magnified. The citrus is bright and cheery, the spice extra spicy, the meat extra meaty. Maybe I'm crazy, but I feel like a brand new person, learning all over again.
I incorporated a new mouth care routine to my quit smoking campaign. Its obsessive, and a little neurotic, but it works for me. I think because I spend five ten minutes caring for my teeth, gums, tongue .. whatnot, and my mouth is so minty clean, the last thing I want is to dump an ashtray into it. I pre-rinse with a whitening solution, rinse with water, floss, rinse with water, brush, rinse with water, rinse with listerine, rinse with water. It literally takes five ten minutes. Also, I carry around those little pseudo toothbrush things... whisps, that look like tiny plastic toothbrushes and have a little dot of pepperminty gel in them... I chew and chew on that until its right mutilated. Because I am trying to be healthy, tone my body, and watch my weight, I don't want to replace smoking with something edible. So, Whisps it is... I also allow myself four pieces of licorice, and two or three mints a day. And I drink a TON of water.
Yesterday I drank two cups of coffee. That says a lot. I am the girl that will drink three pots a day. No caffeine headache.. that I could discern, but I had WICKED nicotine with drawls. I was really kind of rotten, and felt a little spun. Shaky, cranky, impulsive, jumpy and reactive. Like a volcano. I felt really horrible on and off all day, nauseated, then just mean. I felt like ripping some one's vocal chords from their throat, just because I could. There were a lot of compulsive behaviors. I find myself not really knowing what to do with my hands. So I clean. Whatever I come across.. whether it is clean or not. I made home made wheat bread yesterday afternoon... just beat the hell out of it, to release some of the nonsense aggression I felt.
It is amazing to me, how much time there is to accomplish things. You wouldn't think that would be a big factor.. but when you are stepping outside to smoke fifteen to twenty times a day for ten minutes at a time... your wasting nearly four hours a day. I find myself wanting to go to bed earlier, wanting to wake up earlier, then wondering why... uuuuh. I really can't wait for the obsessive part of this process to be over. I am overcome with thoughts of smoking and food. Ridiculous.
Okay, so yesterday... I also completed thirty minutes of cardiovascular exercise. .. . walked to the store and back, walked halfway home from work, and completed four massages.
Today, I am focusing on my arms. Bicep curls, tricep kick backs, and shoulder presses. I am going to get my manicure and pedicure Nick gave me for Christmas, need to pay the rent and car payments, maybe get some groceries, and ... who knows. My impulse is to fill every second of the day.. but I can't think of a thing to do. My workday is done already.. and now I am afraid I have all the time in the world to think about.. you guessed it, food and smoking. Pah! |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 9:49 AM |
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| Sunday, January 03, 2010 |
| A head full of nonsense |
There's nothing quite like waking up at five in the morning, on a Sunday, while your kids are gone for the evening, for no apparent reason. Waking up, completely, no lingering moment of tiredness, no full body stretch, no tingling of the brain. Asleep and dreaming. Awake and aware. The ceiling of my room hasn't changed a bit. My eyes open and swirling in the plaster and paint above me is a Mary Poppins-esq blob of chimney sweeps dancing around. Least, that's what I like to imagine they are.
Of coarse there are the obligatory morning rituals. Get up, go to the bathroom, brush teeth, put on robe, percolate coffee. These are usually sluggish chores. Today.. I don't know. I don't feel like there was an end to yesterday or beginning to today... but I'm not at all tired. In fact, I feel more awake this morning, than I have ... in a very long time.
The coffee did boil over, and all that is left in the cupboard for breakfast is a bag of Crispy Rice that has been opened from the middle. This makes me smile. There are bright red arrows in a large strip of yellow pointing to a perforated strip and it all but BEGS to be opened along that line. There's a resealable opening!, it practically shouts. Not in my house of little men. Nope. It was torn in a jagged forced line, halfway down the middle of the bag, deep into the guts of the bag. Who am I to complain? I half pour half dump (because lets face it, you can't pour any kind of cereal out of the middle of a bag with out some spillage) the contents of the thing into a large Tupperware. Aware that this tiny little act of motheriness is going to make life a tiny bit easier for the boys tomorrow. It is a small and satisfactory bit of hero-ess-ness.
I begin to feel a tiny bit nauseated. I eat some of the Crispy Rice. I take inventory of the fridge. It amazes me how much my little men can eat. That fridge is full one minute and bare bone dry the next. Let's see, half eaten green jello, expired whipped cream, a gallon and a half of milk (no doubt because the boys aren't here this morning), bottled asparagus, bottled jalapenos, two scoops of freshly made salsa, an egg, Worcestershire sauce, ketchup, ranch, mustard, a very small hunk of pepper jack cheese, coffee cream, muenster and swiss, five tomatoes, two limes, and a half chopped onion. I need to go shopping before the guys come home. Freezer? Ice cream and pie crust.. well, and a gel pack for clients (by clients, I mean me.. and Nick).
I sigh and resign myself to my Crispy Rice over computer time. I learn from MSN homepage that I can get spectacular dating tips from the top bartenders across the country. This makes me giggle. When I was in the band in Alaska, we catalogued the cheesy pick up lines we were given or overheard. I still wonder which band mate ended up with that book. Signing in to facebook, I discover many things. There's a lot one can learn about one's self if one appeals to the glory of facebook. Today, in the span of half an hour or so.. because I began writing this at around five thirty, I learned that today will be a good day for me astrologically, and in the sphere of love. I learned that several of my friends gave me hearts, which in turn made my heart beat faster. I learned one friend loved the movie she watched, another is discovering Netflix, another hates cheese, another is thankful for socks, someone enjoys real California sand in her shoes, someone else has a beautiful new hat from Christmas... oh, it goes on and on. I discover that I am going to be married, or standing at the altar in ten years. My personality is green today, meaning I am ready for an adventure.. that may be the coffee taking affect. And today God wants me to know that I can be loved if I let myself be. I love the pictures that my friends have posted of their holiday exploits, everyone looking so happy.
Sigh.
I think my intention was to wear myself out, kill time til Mr. Sandman made me dreamy again. Didn't work. Its unnaturally quiet in this apartment... there are no slamming doors, no neighbor movement... just quiet, except of coarse the clicking of my fingers on keys. I don't want to disturb the peace of it. The television will be too jutting, too intrusive on such a morning, and music doesn't suit, because it will change the mood. It's still dark outside, and cold cold cold, or I might entertain a walk. I crack my knuckles, roll my feet around on my ankles, breathe deep and sit up straight. I wish I had a good book. I wish I could call someone. I feel like socializing. No one is home.
Just me and my head full of nonsense. |
| posted by katmandusuekookachoo @ 6:38 AM |
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