Seeking

The other day with nothing much better to do, I read some blogs. I subscribe to lots of blogs, decorating, talking much about nothing, house surfing, crafting. Though just because I subscribe doesn't mean I read them regularly. So Thursday, I did just that, read. Reading turned into clicking on other peoples links.

Small threads that lead you other places.

I like to imagine it is like a loose thread on a sweater. You think you can just yank it right out. No problem, just a quick pull and done. Nope. A quick pull and a longer thread arrives. Another quick pull and before you know it, you have a tube top. OMG! I just dated myself. Reading blogs is just like that. Poof! before you know it, gone on a tangent.

I know a little about everything. And much about nothing. I will be super at dinner parties. I learned about Johnny Depp's relationship, about the Super Bowl festivities, a few soup recipes, how to best open a Etsy shop, on and on I went. For the most part quite enjoyable.

Then bam! a link lead me to some questionable blogs. I'm not going to name them, because truth be told, they sickened me.

I grew up in a religious household. Not a good religion. In fact, a horrible one. I left never to return. It has taken me a whole lot of years to undo what was done. Therapy helped. Time helped more. Knowledge helped the most.

Learning that what I was taught (brainwashed is probably a better term), was wrong. Learning to be a kind and decent person. To not hate. To not judge. Time heals everything, it is true. I look back on my childhood as more of a spectator than an actual participant. The person I am now, is the person I like. Maybe I was supposed to have all that hatred shoved down my throat, so that I am better able to recognize it when it comes my way.

These blogs deal with religion in just the way I remember my childhood. All of a sudden, I felt like I was twelve again. I couldn't catch my breath, my heart started racing and I broke out into a cold sweat. I fled the computer. I fled the evil, the hatred, the filth. My mind strayed back though. The memories came flooding back. Washing over me like sewage water. Drowning me.

I know the way to good now. I know the way to find peace and contentment. Years have taught me that. Knowledge has taught me that. I see the good in people. Not every day, but more now then ever before.

Reading about the hatred for Muslims, Homosexuals, African-American, just fills me with disgust. Looking at the small children being surrounded by this, fills me with sadness. How does one get there? How can someone be so filled with hate?

I live in a small town but I live in a liberal state. Portland is filled with diversity. The sidewalks are crowded with differences. All walk together. We have our share of problems, what large city doesn't? But this city, these people not like me, and exactly like me, fill me with a joy that my childhood never did.

They accept me. Slightly over-weight, taller than normal, louder than normal. They don't know me, but they make room for me. They smile as I pass. We stand in the same coffee lines together and chat. We become friends. We leave along our daily paths, better for having run into each other. Changed in a small way. Changed in a larger way.

I choose daily to not bring hate into my life. Into my house. I know that leaving the past in the, well, past isn't an option. I bring it along, kicking and screaming. Showing the twelve year old girl still inside me, how wrong all that was. The words and actions that were shown, weren't right then and they aren't right now.

I won't go back to religion. I will travel along a path of acceptance, of love, and mostly of peace. And I think along that path I will find the true meaning of joy. I can only hope that someday all those little faces I saw on those blogs, will also find it.

Dreaming of Escape

January is not my month of choice. As I sit here typing, the rain and wind are beating the crap out of us again.

So tired. When we first bought this house, oh so long ago, it seemed that all I dreamed of was moving here. Living here full time. The ocean so close. A small town. Peace from the city noises, traffic, chaos.

A fire going in the fireplace, books piled everywhere, dogs hogging the couch.

Well, I have that, for the most part. Olive is not allowed on the couch any longer since she ate the pillows and has since been banned to a rug. Though sometimes I walk by the couch and it feels very warm to the touch, so I believe she feels this is a rule that will only be enforced if I am in the view of her. She is probably right.

I think with age comes the knowledge that just because you dream and wish for something, it isn't necessarily what you want. I still dream of having the very same dream I have now. I want to make it work. I can see the picture in my head and spend so much time trying to accomplish this.

I WILL enjoy a small town.

I WILL enjoy the ocean.

I WILL enjoy this life I have worked so hard to achieve.

I WILL is fast becoming I DON'T WANT THIS.

Sure a stagnate real estate market and an non existent job market, also help me try and make this work.

Everyday it gets harder. I fight to fit in. I join. I help. I still just hate it.

I like cities. The bigger, the better. For me it is the constant movement I like. The feeling of not being alone. The feeling of change, of opportunity, of a constant surprise right around the corner.

Here the surprise is that Safeway won't get organic chicken until Friday. Not really the surprise I was hoping for.

I envy people who can be happy here. Can follow the car that has had its left hand turn signal on for twelve miles and has never once gotten even close to turning without a thought of rage. Can be thrilled that we are getting our second Subway store. Can enjoy watching the rain for the 100th day in a row without wanting to consume an entire bottle of wine every day. Can exist without a bookstore, a gym, a steakhouse. Can be content with what this small town provides.

All I can see, is what it doesn't.

I'm glad for the experience. I'm glad for the dream. I will also be glad to escape.

Crafty Sunday

Lately searching around the decorating blogs, birdcage hanging lamps have been popping up right and left. I am totally in love. Then I got my Restoration Hardware Coffee Table Book, I would be hard pressed to call that a catalog since it is HUGE. I plan to keep it forever and ever, so the extra expense it must have cost them to bind it like a book, worth it for me,

Anywho, the catalog has a very beautiful birdcage lamp, but since I forgot to play Powerball and therefore didn't win, I can't afford a bijillion dollars for a little ole lamp.

Some of the other ones I have seen are really pretty reasonable, though I can't justify the expense for anything that doesn't have IRS or Property tax in its title.

What to do? Why make it of course.

This is where the stock pile of crapola I pick up at garage sales and such, comes in handy dandy. I had a birdcage. It was gray, which is not in my color wheel. So I waited for the first semi-nice day and went to town with paint. Spray paint, a girls best friend.

Two coats of white primer, two coats of white top coat, and one coat of clear sealer. One freezing cold day with sun. Presto! a white birdcage waiting to be made over into a hanging lamp.

The little chandelier in my office, I already had hanging. I made the ceiling medallion out of a picture fame, vintage dictionary pages, and mod-podge. The chandelier I found at a garage sale for $15.00. Instant glamour for the most mundane tasks, ie: bill paying, selling on ebay, playing Frontierville on facebook. The cord cover I made myself with fabric and a trusty glue gun.

Since I am never sure something will stay where I place it, I didn't want to damage the birdcage in case I needed it for something, oh I don't know, bird related. So I tied the chandelier up inside the birdcage with white ribbon. Since everything else is white, it blends white in. Man, I am clever with words - hahaha!

Then I just hung the whole kit n caboodle right back up.

The birdcage is open weave on the bottom, so the light shines right down on me.

I love it! I love that it was almost free. I think I paid $4.00 for the cage at a garage sale. Sure, its not the pricey catalog beauty but it is pretty spectacular for my humble abode.

On

Off

Beautiful!

Ocean

" But more wonderful than the lore of old men
and the lore of books
is the secret lore of ocean."

H.P. Lovecraft

Baby steps

I have books. Or do books have me? Either way, here they are in a big mess. The library. I love this room.Generally it is filled with the sweet smell of old pages, old tales, old authors. Now it is filled with disarray. Ick. I get the shivers when I see this. You see, I am organizing this room. I know, I know it does not look like any sort of organizing is going on here. In fact, I wonder if I am testing nuclear bombs in this room.

You know the saying "the best laid plans of mice and men" well that is me. I head in here, head held high, direction at the ready. I know what to do, how to do it. The plan for this room.

Then the books work against me. Wait, is that a group of Poe books? Oooooh, I love Poe, I'll just look for a second. No, NO put that down. Yes, that is right, it does go in the poem section. Oh my, I totally love this book, I didn't remember I had it, wow the best part is right about here. I'll just read it right quick. PUT IT DOWN. Oh, that's right, working on the poem section, no sense in reading the best haunted places to stay in New York. Poems, Poems, lets get that poetry section going. Awesome! A first edition of Betty MacDonald, I'd better get a plastic book sleeve on that so it won't get smudges on it. I just find this one section hilarious, I'll just take a quick glance.

NO. step away from the book and get back to alphabetizing the poetry section. Hmmmm! a dog book, I'd better see if it has any ideas about why Bernese Mountain Dogs are so insane. This book has such pretty pictures. PUT IT DOWN.

I love dogs. I had better make a dog section. I have another little brown bookcase. I have dog books. Wait, I have poodles wearing glasses. What a fantastic idea, I'll make a arrangement. Vintage poodles STANDING on dog books. Man, I am a genius.

I'll take apart the library, find all the dog books. Put it all together.

Man, sometimes I am my own worse enemy. Well, baby steps for the organization of the library, baby steps people.

I think I need more dog books. Hmmmmm, I think the used book store is opened tomorrow.

Organization is highly overrated.

What I love

What I love:

The kid - everyone should have one.

The pug - everyone should have one. They come in two colors. Get two. One summer, one winter.

Books - everyone should have lots, just lots and lots and lots and well, lots.

a DVR - all those recorded shows just waiting for me. Bliss!

Gray's Anatomy - Cristina Yang - you slay me every single week. Thank you.

A Coast - pick East or West or somewhere else, just pick and go. Or live.

Surfers - Not a sport for me but man, I love me some peeps on waves.

K-Cups - Thank you for coffee in the middle of the day, middle of the night, morning, mid-morning, early evening, well you get the picture. Coffee makes me me. So does hot apple cider. The cocoa, however sucks. Don't go there. Trust me. I went and it was bad, oh so bad.

Fuzzy slipper socks with big faux fur cuffs - Yep, I rock the fashion here at my own home.

Fireplaces - real or fake - ambiance is the same - Flickery flames and delightful warmth. Makes me think of Little House on the Prairie minus the hard stuff, and the Prairie.

Candles - real or fake - The cinnamon spice makes the house smell like someone baked. Now if only someone would really bake, I would totally add that to the list. Stupid dogs, just refuse to learn anything new.

Holidays on the horizon - Cheesy specials, homemade craft night, the kid being home for many days IN A ROW. Winter looking brighter, at least for a few weeks. Food. Twinkle lights. Santa. Reindeer. Peace on Earth.

My Winter Bed - cozy linen sheets from the early 1900's, six down filled pillows, velvet duvet with a goose down comforter. A crazy quilt stitched in 1871. All laid out on a high four poster bed with me right smack dab in the middle. The bathroom window opened to the night breeze because winter bed is hot, both figuratively and literally.

Eyeglasses - I like sight.

Reduced Fat Wheat Thins - Better than regular Wheat thins. Easy and neat to eat while reading.

Starbucks Red Cups - Coffee is just more festive in red. Everything is more festive in red.

What do you love?

Very loud little voice

So what makes us, well, us?

Is it a combination of things? DNA, parents, peers, experiences? Is it a brain thing? A situation thing? A total ball of mish-mash thing?

When the times get hard, what pulls us through? or not, for that matter?

I believe that DNA makes up a great part of me. I'm stubborn, opinionated, feisty, all things that my Irish background says I should be. Yet, I'm introverted, quiet, moody, all things that my Cancer birth sign says I should be. But, is this all I am? Am I made of anything of my own choosing?

Sometimes I feel like a little sea anemone. Sitting in one place with little tentacles bobbing and weaving, letting bits and pieces weave over me before SNAP catching something. How do I pick what I catch? What I pull into me and decide to keep. Decide to add it to me and change me in a minuscule way. Has it been predetermined? or am I choosing?

A few days ago it was a bad day for me. Little things piling up, big things crashing down. Nerves fraying. Tears so close to the surface. Panic attack even closer. Rain pouring down, it just seemed so gray, so, just so sad.

Walking around the house trying for something to set the ship upright again, I walked past a messy book filled bookshelf in my hall way. The topsey-turvey books didn't lift my soul like normal. They just seemed messy, in disarray, just like me. No cohesiveness, no thought. Before I could even focus on the plan, I grabbed them all out. Shuffled them into an all ready overflowing library. No place to put them. The shelves in here are just as jumbled, just as chaotic. They went on the floor.

The empty bookcase stared at me. The wood shelves, slightly dusty, calmed me. It seemed that one little piece of empty did what an entire day could not. An entire day of searching for something to soothe the chaotic mind. Empty. A place to focus. To regroup. Calmness. The possibilities were endless for this little bookcase. It could stay empty. It could move to the basement. It could leave. It could go back to its original purpose. It could be anything.

Just like me. The chaos that surrounds us, doesn't define us. Just like me being Irish, being a girl, being born under the Cancer sign, being divorced. That is part of me but not the whole me. My past travels with me, not to describe me, but to remind me. To remind me where I have come from, what I have overcome, and what I will become. DNA, family, peers, experiences all play a part but the biggest part, I believe, comes from within. Within us. A little voice, that if it is quiet, will provide the hope and answer we seek. And sometimes, if we are really lucky, the little voice will shout itself hoarse and make us listen.

What happened to the little bookcase? It went back to its original purpose. It holds all the books that my grandfather left to me when he passed on. They are not old, or valuable. They are however, extremely priceless.

On a day when everything seemed hard. DNA didn't come through, nor did the birth sign I was born under. What did come through was a little brown bookcase, a collection of Time Life books and a very loud little voice.