So, my whole life is moving in this wonderful forward direction, and I never really know what to say about it all, because so many people know about this blog and I fear they will be disrespectful to myself and those I love if I disclose here.
To those of you who know my love, feel it now. And know that I am moving into a new state of be-ing. And that I hope to be blogging again very soon. I love you all.
And know that, on April 21st at 8am, I will officially be Sara Blackthorne. And that is the best feeling in the whole world.
I moved. Well, aside from 300+ pounds of books and some other miscellany, I’ve moved. So if you had my address before, you don’t have it now. I don’t have much, at least by way of household things, but I’m working on it. And I’m hoping to have dishes and stuff soon.
But I’m riding the bus to and from work. And I think once I get into the swing of riding, I can start journaling and knitting on the bus, and then I might actually figure out who I am and what I want. I’m not ready for graduate school. It’s not that I couldn’t do it intellectually, I think I just want more experience in the editing/publishing world first. I don’t know. I’m searching my soul for the answers, and all I’m coming up with is silence.
Which might not be all bad.
So, I’m feeling like a complete and total geek right now. See, I haven’t had a cell phone in over a year, and I’m getting ready to move this week/end, and so I needed a phone pretty desperately. I went to the Sprint store and searched around for a bit, and found a phone I really liked. It happened to be the same phone that Raven really wanted, and she was eligible for an upgrade, so we talked about it, and both decided to get one.
Well, of course only two places in MadTown have it, and we call around and try to get all the best deals and figure out how to make it work financially, and so we head to the other side of town this evening, in a snow storm, to get new phones.
And we managed to get two new phones, a new phone contract for me, two car chargers, and two Bluetooth headsets for about $100. Total.
And my new phone, it totally kicks ass.
These days I’m an emotional screwball. The slightest thing seems to upset me, bring me to tears, make feel crazy inside. I know I’m getting close to bleeding, but this is completely over-the-top hypersensitivity.
And the worst part is, I try to tell those around me, and it doesn’t seem to matter.
A fourteen-year-old brings me to tears and a feeling of absolute stupidity when I am just trying to learn something new.
I looked at another apartment today. It’s a true studio, dingy, basement, pretty yuck, but it’s about the most I can afford. And, I can always look to find work in the area, since it is pretty near a few business districts, and I don’t have to stay at the Boston Store forever. I mean really, it isn’t the best, either.
There is a place in the nearby neighborhood looking for a part-time receptionist. Maybe I could make it work to both for a while, in order to find enough to get along.
Everything just feels so crazy insane and wacko. I want to be like Frida, making a difference, living a gypsy life. And it’s funny, because I know that I don’t know Frida at all (and she most likely doesn’t know me), and so even though I’ve gleaned from her blog that there are troubles in the life of a humanitarian worker, I still am humbled and awed by the work she does. Making a difference in the world.
There is a boy in the dining room angry with his camera, and Raven trying to help him, and I’m just too fragile for 14-year-old hormones to handle it all. I want to curl up in the darkness with a cup of tea and be still, be silent, be humble until I melt into the snow which keeps falling out my window and drift on the wind in nothing.
This life, this round of lessons of learning, I just don’t seem to be getting things. I wish I could be still for long enough to find my heart, my center, the wisdom inside me, and move from that place of peace.
I want to know peace. Please.
There is a kind of sleety-snow falling outside, raining sideways against the window, wet enough to run down the drainpipe outside the porch. I hear it rattling, like ice in a shaker, as it tumbles in spirals through the corrugated tin. My parents have the same gutters, ridged and rusty from years of wet springs and snowy AutumnWinters. The major downspout lived outside my window, at the corner near the head of my bed, and I spent hours not sleeping, listening to the tumultuous thunderstorms through that tiny tube of tin.
I always listened to the rain alone.
Lately I’ve been feeling those nights of raindrops and stormsounds and remembering how it feels. I’m transitioning again, by choice or by making, and I’m stuck in this alone-ness and unknowing. I watch a squirrel scamper across the greenspace in this almost-former backyard and I wonder if s/he has a nest somewhere, a place to go home to, a family waiting. The kittens frantic over the catnip bunny, fighting it and each other for possession of an ear, a tail, a sniff, a lick.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not upset over being by myself, without a place to go, for Thanksgiving. Sure, I’ll admit it sucks, because I’m a very social person and I like the company of others. And yeah, when I hear others talking about their plans I dread the moment I am asked, “So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?” because there is a look of pity and something I cannot name when I say “I’m staying home alone with my cats. I might knit, or bake, or read four books. I’ll sleep in late and go to bed very early. I have no other place to go.”
I don’t want to go to Northern Minnesota, to spend another holiday crammed at the kid’s table, or in silent conversation with my family about nothing I am or will be. I don’t want to hitchhike to Michigan, to sit at a table with family I once knew well but feel disconnected from like wires that misfire and synapses shut down.
I like sitting at the computer, peeking around the corner to watch a kitten pop his head up from inside the laundry hamper. I don’t mind the dirty dishes of my own making, the fact that I want some cheese but can’t afford it so I crave it and do nothing, the emails I get with prices too high for my retail budget and having to reply, thanks but I can’t right now, I appreciate the information, it’s outside my budget in this now.
I might go out later today. I saved some quarters from my last paycheck and there is the best chiya tea at the Nepalese place. I know it isn’t more than I have saved, and I might even get a cup of dal to go. The usual server is a very sweet womyn, and I always have the best time when I go there.
But tonight, and tomorrow, it’s me, Franklin, Scatha, and a whole lot of books, yarn, baking, movies, and quiet. I’ve been home one-and-a-half hours and have yet to turn on sound. Those of you who know me remember my studying to the Pretenders and Heart.
I shouldn’t have gone looking for links. So much for the silence.
But there is still that thick, heavy rain.
And I am still alone.