tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79296779932722534402024-03-12T19:02:37.862-07:00furiousmuseUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger122125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-31418452696099790462021-01-01T16:42:00.006-08:002021-02-05T20:39:23.556-08:002021 - looks like we made it<p>i woke up around 10:30, as i champion sleep like it's an olympic sport. i am lucky my cats don't eat me alive, but they seem content to cuddle until i stir; then there is no question of their hunger. or really, zelda's hunger. moxie would be content to remain tucked cozily between my legs.</p><p>here we are in a new year, which so far is not that much different from 2020, but is something we all presumably have a lot banking on.</p><p>let's not get ahead of ourselves.</p><p>i will start with a day. today i went for a walk, battled in pokémon raids locally and abroad (new zealand!), and partnered with e in england for an espurr raid. i watched the film <i>hidden figures </i>while slowly grazing on homemade soup and a vegan caesar salad. </p><p>one day at a time. let's go.</p>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-60923896542387708232020-08-01T16:27:00.002-07:002021-01-01T16:34:41.729-08:001 august 2020<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri, sans-serif; font-size: 12pt; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">
<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><i>i started a piece to submit to the new york times' "modern love" column, then didn't finish it because i never came back to it until today; it is revised and less like a piece for publication. i haven't blogged in a while, so i'll put it here.</i></span></div>
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<i style="font-family: "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">i'm tired. quarantine life in the age of COVID-19 is doing things to everyone's lives and mental health in some degree. </i><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">In the early weeks of quarantine, I would I blink my eyes open around eight in the morning on workdays and involuntarily reach for my phone to scan the news, social media, and a dating app. I was an automaton, moving wordlessly from bedroom to bathroom. I removed my </span>night guard<span style="font-size: 12pt;">, stared briefly at my drug-store bleached hair (brunette roots cresting against multi-tonal yellows and golds; not quite the look I had gone for), and lean down to tap the handle of my bathtub faucet until the water began to trickle out. Moxie, my slim, gray cat, dipped his paw in and out, drinking droplets off his fur.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman" , serif;">Working from home began at noon on March 11, 2020, when my manager called the entire team into a conference room at 11:53AM</span><span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">. We were told to go home to ensure we could remotely login to our desktops and access all necessary programs and network folders. I left in a fog, saying goodbye to coworkers on other teams who hadn’t been told to go home yet. Weeks earlier, C and I had planned to spend Friday the thirteenth at Disneyland. The most remarkable moment at the end of that day was the myriad cast members waving at guests exiting the park (C and I left just shy of midnight). I waved back frantically, yelling out words of gratitude and trying to make eye contact while fighting the urge to ball up and sob; it's August 1, 2020 and Disneyland is still closed.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times new roman", serif; font-size: 12pt; text-indent: 0.5in;">I cobbled together a home office at my kitchen nook and waited for various auxiliary equipment to arrive in the mail when my remote connection locked up a week later. Desperate calls to internal IT support netted mounting frustrations: “It must be your internet connection.” “Everything is fine on our end.” “Oh, you have a Mac?” “It’s your personal laptop so we can’t open a ticket.” I finally asked to pick up the work-issued laptop I’d declined just hours earlier because everything had been fine. I left the office that afternoon, laptop in tow, wheeling my office chair into the elevator and across the parking lot because by god I was not going to break my back trying to make my kitchen chair work any longer. I felt gloriously defiant.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: times new roman, serif;"><span style="font-size: 12pt;">Now, 143 days into working from home and primarily staying home, I rescued a calico cat (found in front of the neighborhood library; friendly, flea-ridden, and pregnant), received an "exceeds expectations" review at work (plus, earned a raise), begun an at-home yoga practice, </span>single-handedly sustained a local ice cream shop,<span style="font-size: 12pt;"> become a regular at the neighborhood farmers market (hooked on the unlikely pairing of kettle corn and kale), finally made it to week four of Couch-to-5K (just say no to shin splints), and joined an antiracist book club (we're reading Me and White Supremacy by Layla Saad for August).</span></span><br />
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I chatted with M a couple of days ago about work. She's at a bank in Orange County; it's not her normal branch, which got closed temporarily (albeit indefinitely) in the early weeks of California's shelter in place orders. She highlighted for me the nightmares of being a frontline worker: angry customers, shorthanded-ness due to coworkers calling out sick/quarantining because of COVID-19 exposure or illness, stressed out managers who pass that stress onto the staff, ever-increasing anxiety manifesting in shortness of breath that is exacerbated by wearing a mask all day, and all while having more work to do and fewer hours to do it in (the branch shaved an hour off their opening and closing times).<br />
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An acquaintance I volunteer with got COVID-19 from her roommates, who went to a bar during California's momentary reopening of many establishments. The roommates<span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> experienced mild symptoms, while S</span><span style="text-indent: 0.5in;"> has asthma and struggled to catch her breath without having a coughing fit for a week. S recovered without being hospitalized, but it was hell. Also, her longtime employer has been shuttered since March 14, 2020; she has to work the graveyard shift at her new job. </span><br />
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Last weekend I rearranged my bookshelves by color, played Pokémon GO, and watched old episodes of Property Brothers on Hulu. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-22016898534569497962020-01-05T16:12:00.001-08:002020-01-05T16:12:48.478-08:00making spacei'm trying to wrangle the mess that's built up in my apartment for several months into something decent. i'm trying to <i>be present</i> and take the time i need to do things. i quickly realized that i'm not going to be able to post something every day, but i can post a little more frequently than i used to.<br />
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i try to make this public act of journaling something worthy of being read by anyone (not just friends, but thank you to those who do). i want to be honest as hell about what i'm going through or thinking of, but undoubtedly it's a little weird to do so because i'm not always feeling good as hell (i'm looking at you, december 2019).<br />
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let me tell you about the cat i met today. she's a sweet, friendly, snowshoe cat and she needs a new home because her owner travels too much. i've been thinking about getting a companion for moxie for years now, ever since mango passed (3 may 2015). what's holding me up? i've asked myself that for a while now. let's go macro with this: what holds me back from anything? from moving to a new state, or changing jobs, or adopting a cat? finances aside, one aspect of this is a personal battle with fear of failure. i fail ALL THE TIME at things. large or small, and i'm still moving forward.<br />
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this post is meandering--there is still much cleaning to do--but i think the answer is coming soon. i will know soon, and maybe i will write about it. soon.<br />
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p.s. it is interminably difficult to enjoy writing (or other things) when i'm staring at a to do list.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-39986257848573832042020-01-02T21:20:00.001-08:002020-01-02T21:20:07.395-08:00day twotoday was work, then yoga. the yoga is new. i like it and will do more of it. it centers me.<br />
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-74356769577850768572020-01-01T12:53:00.001-08:002020-01-01T12:53:45.261-08:00hindsight, et. al. today is the first day...<div>
hindsight is...</div>
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the early bird...</div>
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treat others...</div>
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if you can't say something nice...</div>
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whatever you're thinking of this day and its significance, i can assure you that a) i am too and b) i want to reject all of it. why wait until the calendar tells us that a day is meaningful? but also, why not do something since it is the first day of the month/year/not-so-roaring twenties (don't write me about this decade v. not a new decade nonsense because i couldn't care less)? </div>
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i want to do something different. i always talk about wanting to do something different and, like a character straight out of <i>waiting for godot</i>, i do not move, immobilized by how overwhelming it will be to get to that thing, or how expensive it is, or how it feels impossible to get there on my own (reminder: divorced, one cat, one piano, pounds of books and a couple of bookshelves [one i helped build last year, one i've had since i was 19] <--this is me). that ends here, i want to declare. this is the year i get shit done. (this is a terrifying assertion.)</div>
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i will try to write something everyday, because writing is important to me. this might be a foolish promise to make. i think i will try to write here, because why not? let's see how it goes. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-24170908975936254782019-07-16T22:23:00.003-07:002019-07-16T22:25:33.567-07:00i should go to bed nowmy cat insists on burying the bowl of wet food i insist on feeding him, and i'm going to insist on writing for a handful of minutes when i know that i should be going to bed: typos and edits be damned!<br />
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this year is more than half over and i can tell you that i'm quickly heading in directions previously unknown to me--unforetold, unusual, underrated. really it's just that i wanted three "un" words in a row there. who has time for copious details and explanations? certainly not me. not now.<br />
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i'm 42 these days. less than a month until i'm halfway to 43. what gives with these numbers? someone just needs to stop. but enough about time, even though time is certainly what i'm running out of as i rob myself of delicate minutes of sleep.<br />
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what is it with life? what is the most important thing to communicate at This Very Minute?<br />
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bollocks, i'm drawing a complete blank. my house is a disaster since i took up volunteering and i'm lucky to get a proper dinner in. i'm hoping all the vegetables and tofu i cooked up tonight last me through the end of this week. but mostly, the important thing is that i'm volunteering and it is the best thing i could have done in response to a very unfortunate event.<br />
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without going into the details, let's just say that when my efforts to help a creature took an unexpected turn, i doubled down on educating myself and i haven't been the same since.<br />
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there's been a lot of changes in the past year, as i was explaining to a friend, and i sort of want to write everything down; however, one of the changes i've made is understanding my bandwidth. i need my sleep more than i need to blog.<br />
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so, i'm here, dear reader. i hope you are well.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-74506053302506342482019-01-03T20:20:00.003-08:002019-01-03T20:20:49.132-08:00ringing in the new yearyes, it's the third of january already. it's taken me a week to be back to feeling myself, and even then i'm not totally over my cold. i relish the small bubbles of energy shimmying from my toes to my head. i was focused today at work. just now i played piano for three-quarters of an hour (this always leaves my hands feeling electric). and, like the eighty-year-old that lives deep, down inside of me, i'm going to brush my teeth and hop into bed with a book during the eight o'clock hour. getting sick seems to have flipped my internal clock; i got into work at 7:15 this morning. time will tell if this becomes a pattern.<br />
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i picked up aja gabel's <a href="http://www.ajagabel.com/the-ensemble/" target="_blank">the ensemble</a> when i was at the portland book festival in november and i started reading it new year's eve day while i was still sick. the novel may be about a string quartet, but i'll nonetheless cite that as one of many reasons i trimmed my nails so i could let my fingers wander on the black and white keys of my childhood upright piano. i've decided to learn the <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=n7ULKKJ5UpI" target="_blank">downton abbey suite</a>, which is certainly much more difficult than i thought it would be. the piano transcription highlights the weakness in my fourth (ring) finger on my left hand (time for hanon exercises?!). although the notes themselves are easy to read, i spent a healthy amount of time counting out loud, slapping the rhythms out on my thighs, and playing the first page, hands separate, at less than half of the prescribed tempo. being out of practice is tedious, but as i'm on the cusp of another birthday, i'm pleased to know that i can still dust off the years of piano lessons i keep in my back pocket and resume playing.<br />
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would you look at that? it's almost my bedtime. 2019, you old so-and-so. let's do this.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-20525848985619703162018-11-18T11:04:00.004-08:002018-11-18T11:04:55.310-08:00finding my lightmy last trip of 2018 is behind me; it's a healthy time to pause and reflect on the passage of time and the personal growth stuff. though i in no way want to diminish the accomplishments of the year, i'd like to focus on my inability to say something amazing and grand about it.<br />
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my growth is my own. what i feel is felt because of my previous experiences, and i can and do find it difficult to communicate that to other people. i think i get in my own way, and i felt that on more than one occasion while speaking with k in portland. it was our first introduction to each other, though i've heard wonderful things about her from r for a while now. k is a woman who is smart, thoughtful, well-spoken, and hard-working. i have this memory of sitting opposite from her and searching for the right words to say to communicate a thought. try as i might, i just couldn't nail it down. it seems at times that the inner perfectionist gets the upper hand and my grasp of the english language falters and fails. in times like those, i envy spock. "here, just connect to my mind directly--do you understand what i mean? do you see who i am?" k was patient and kind; she never made me feel less-than, and our conversation moved on.<br />
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i think that is probably the most poignant lesson/observation in my forty-first year on earth: listen, accept, advance. it's improv meets real life up in here, and i've connected with remarkable human beings who infuse me with a <i>joie de vivre </i>that i wouldn't trade for anything. to all the new and old friends in my life: thank you. 2018 wouldn't be what it is without you.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-36726122489366421862018-05-06T10:04:00.000-07:002018-05-06T17:08:57.010-07:00for your considerationit's sunday, traditionally a day of rest, and i'm sitting on my sofa with my laptop propped on a pillow. moxie nests himself between the keyboard and my abdomen, resting his chin on my left wrist; i can feel the vibration of his purrs through my skin and bones. i've just finished reading blair tindall's memoir, mozart in the jungle*. i've kept this book too long and managed to incur a fine from the local library along with a block on my account. this seems to be a necessary fact to share with you because it's a first in my four-year relationship--since when does a book forget to be renewed or returned except when one fails to note a reminder or read through it in the allotted three weeks? time has been slipping through my fingers lately, a blur of working overtime, cooking, cleaning, and wondering when i won't have to do all this work to keep myself so dutifully engaged.<br />
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allow me to regroup.<br />
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on the matter of the book. tindall does a magnificent job of not only memorializing her life, but calling out the difficulties of the modern orchestra (which is an understatement, and an all-too-abrupt summarization). upon reading the final sentence on the final page, i am struck by where she leaves me.<br />
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tindall was 44 when she completed her book. i am 41. yes, of course this is me trying to relate to another human being. it is <i>what i do</i> when i read a book. how do i relate to what i just read? what affect does it have on my life and what i am doing with my life and how i am living my life? this remains to be seen, i think, but i can tell you as someone who has spent the last decade sans life-partner i am once again encouraged to bear witness to someone who is going it alone.<br />
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it's fucking hard as hell and some days i hate it.<br />
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i write that and i instantly want to apologize for my profanity (mom, dad, nephew, niece, sister, sensitive readers). but you know what, i'm going to leave it there, which is really hard to do because i think i spend/have spent a great deal of time trying to make other people comfortable. there's certainly a time and place for that degree of diplomacy, but i will not have it on this blog. i will not.<br />
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for those of you tackling life hand-in-hand with a partner/spouse/commune, i applaud your support system. i don't deny that i have a safety net of family and friends scattered across this earth (though mostly in the united states, with a concentration in california). but each and every day that i get up, it's just me and my cat. there may also be dirty dishes, a pile of sheets and towels in the hamper, a yoga mat in the living room, a layer of dust on the television, and clean clothes wrinkling in a laundry basket. my cleaning motivation comes (and goes) in intervals. right now i'm writing this and not taking care of any of it. i <i>need</i> to write this though, and so i do.<br />
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i have to figuratively laugh and shake my head because i think that's all i really wanted to get off my chest. i could vamp on how hard it's been, but it's pretty easy for me to imagine and acknowledge how hard it can been for anyone regardless of their life's circumstances. thinking of things that way really takes the wind out of my ire and provides an odd sense of comfort. i had this desire to complain and now that has all but left me.<br />
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instead, i'll focus on tindall's persistence, overcoming countless internal and external obstacles, conquering times of stagnation, devoting herself to personal growth when a part of her surely wanted to succumb to the stability of performing in a broadway pit. within that snapshot of her life, i find something relatable that i want to cling to so that i remember to keep going despite the times i feel tired or lonely (&c). i've been pretty damn successful at keeping my life full and fulfilling--i don't see any reason to give up on that now.<br />
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*blair tindall is an oboist cum writer.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-49513887813318343572018-04-26T22:09:00.001-07:002018-04-27T11:02:28.589-07:00thoughtful thursdaysi am so deeply <strike>happy</strike> content right now. (happiness doesn’t quite capture the sentiment.)<br />
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lest i be accused of vague-posting, it concerns all the work that i've done during the last ten-ish years.<br />
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work means both career-building and personal-life-building.<br />
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career-building means my bachelor's degree, paralegal certificate, and the financial crimes career that arrived in late 2013. opportunities have evolved beyond my imagination as i've been challenged in a variety of endeavors that feed the perpetual student living inside of me.<br />
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personal-life-building means therapy and learning life-skillz. it means dating and learning what i want (but not before i learned what i don't want, which was a painful and repetitious process). it means developing an exercise routine that's kept me migraine-free for the past six months. more than those things, it's about being able to experience life as fully as possible by way of seeing the wide world, and touching and tasting it. it's new york city and sweden and destinations yet to be determined.<br />
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i did a fair amount of work to get here, but i recognize that my opportunities have been plentiful; i'm not short on gratitude for those doors that were opened for me and for the others that i persistently knocked on over and over until they opened.<br />
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it all means that it's possible for me to work a 10 hour day and have energy left over for myself . i am terribly grateful to make it to my forties and to be ... happy, content, hopeful, independent. there were certainly points over the last decade where i was depressed, anxious, and/or envious of other people's lives. now i envy my life--which i suppose isn't envy at all, but enjoyment. it's not perfect, but i'm building something that i'm pretty damn proud of.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5SpFB8fwqYw" target="_blank">song of the day...</a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-85697473174919091622018-04-14T12:44:00.001-07:002018-04-14T20:24:01.574-07:00a divorced woman's guide to wanderlusti confess to being intimidated by the prospect of exploring this great big world as a singular figure of the female persuasion. nonetheless, the past year is showing me new ways of getting out and of figuring it out in such a way as to keep myself safe; i try to limit the parental stress my adventures have a tendency to induce. maybe for you these concerns seem archaic and underwhelming. if that is the case, i wouldn't mind possessing some of that superpower you're tucking under your arm.<br />
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last month i went to sweden. it's the farthest i've gone since getting divorced <i>and it was fine</i>. my friend met me at the airport and welcomed me into her cozy home with visiting family to boot. <i>and it was <b>more</b> than fine</i>. from that experience i learned that not only can i travel by myself, but that i weather challenges with ease. i also know how much i appreciated being able to come "home" at the end of a day's wanderings and enjoy the comfort of a houseful of (old and new) friends. were my travels entirely solitary, a week is an awfully long time to go without meaningful conversation. i think i can tolerate about a day or two before i start to itch; i blame the extroverted introvert within.<br />
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consequently, i'm actively pursuing opportunities to travel with friends (or a friend). up next: a three-ish day whale-watching expedition out of montauk with one of my dearest friends. after that? who knows. my sis, brother-in-law, and i want to head to england, france, and ireland. i'm brushing up on my french with the duolingo app, and i'm trying to keep swedish in the mix as well. it's going to be a couple of years before the family trip happens, so i'll look to go to places where i know someone in the meantime.<br />
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reader, are you a solo traveler? what's your story? what works/doesn't work for you? if you see this and care to share some thoughts, please do!<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m05-aX9H9oI/WtJcZybrgsI/AAAAAAAABWU/H7vWH3Mwb4MywsCKDjsjZwoQYZBsxFEhACLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_0843%2B2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1200" data-original-width="1600" height="240" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-m05-aX9H9oI/WtJcZybrgsI/AAAAAAAABWU/H7vWH3Mwb4MywsCKDjsjZwoQYZBsxFEhACLcBGAs/s320/IMG_0843%2B2.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">taken at <a href="http://www.botaniska.se/" target="_blank">göteborgs botaniska trädgård</a></td></tr>
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Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-70222250114285491022018-04-01T21:06:00.003-07:002018-04-05T22:31:05.363-07:00peek-a-boogood lord i miss sweden. it's been nearly two weeks, one trip to IKEA, and countless photographic tours since i was there. i sit at my kitchen table (an IKEA purchase made nearly three years ago) listening to bo sundström fill the air with svensk jazz and plot my return, as well as my future endeavors.<br />
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actually, i don't. i don't because i'm writing this blog; i'm sending out a message into the stratosphere for everyone and for no one. also, it's been about two weeks since the book of faces left my daily browsing radar and i haven't been gripped with fomo. that's a relief. it means i have time to listen to music and take several seconds to watch my cat's ribs expand and contract with his breath (which i just did). it means i don't have to spend any time trying to curate my newsfeed into something the least bit relevant by reducing the ire that was making my eyes cross almost every day. maybe you can tolerate it, but i think i just gave up. between <a href="https://www.theverge.com/2016/10/24/13379204/black-mirror-season-3-episode-1-nosedive-recap" target="_blank">that one episode</a> of black mirror, dave eggers' the circle (the book version--skip the film), and the weird timing of the cambridge anayltica news, i was ready. anyhow, it feels good to have turned that corner, if only because my mind often feels so crowded by random thoughts.</div>
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at any rate, it's sunday evening. i'm trying to wind down in preparation for a full week at work, so this is all i've got in me for now. </div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-53633138576905496422017-11-13T22:58:00.001-08:002017-11-13T23:00:14.635-08:00homei realize now that, as i moved beyond my divorce, i left behind memories and pieces of me that no longer fit with my current self. i left them so far behind that they became unrecognizable--that i became a stranger to my former self. now, i've unearthed what archives of my blog i could find online because my backup was cannibalized during a backup, along with most of my writing. i've skimmed some of the posts during the restoration process and it's been much less painful than i anticipated. then again, it has been a decade.<br />
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what comes next (in life/on blog) is still in the works. i stumbled across a list i drafted several years ago of 101 things to do in 1001 days. it was exciting to see how much i'd accomplished or experienced, and it underlined several things that i still want to do.<br />
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moxie has settled across my left wrist, which is now pressing uncomfortably into the laptop. this feels like home.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-78779422135536308952017-11-11T14:05:00.000-08:002017-11-11T15:44:32.813-08:00bienvenue! välkommen! welcome back, furiousmuse.com! i'm going to do something proper with you, but it's weirdly wonderful to have you back in my life after a nearly 3 year hiatus. i've missed you. let's go exploring...<br />
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p.s. manual restoration in process, thanks to the <a href="https://web.archive.org/" target="_blank">wayback machine</a>. good writing, poor writing, and everything in between; i'm me.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-72369316651815088502017-11-05T20:55:00.003-08:002017-11-05T20:56:23.633-08:005 nov 2017well, how about that. i'm getting my domain back. this should be interesting.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-277677725834792172017-08-10T21:15:00.002-07:002017-08-10T21:15:53.737-07:0010 aug 2017tonight i did not make the turkey casserole. i have all the ingredients, but i got home so late that i simply didn't want to do it. it's the end of the work week, what can i say. i'm over it.<br />
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i'm on the brink of buying a domain again. to blog regularly. we'll see, honestly. i'm not totally convinced i want to. but i am amused that godaddy shows my former domain for sale for the nominal fee of $900. that's never going to happen. i'll book 2 flights to new york city before i spend that much on a recreational domain.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-56354337467971158952017-08-09T21:20:00.002-07:002017-08-10T19:36:14.021-07:009 aug 2017when i read <a href="http://www.catster.com/lifestyle/should-we-give-a-damn-about-cats-when-humans-need-help" target="_blank">this</a> today, a moving article about people and cats and who/what one gives time to, i found myself prompted to turn a thoughtful eye on my own life. i admire the author and dear friend who put those thoughts to the page because behind all of it i get the sense that she loves what she does. i don't glamorize the life of a freelancer, nor do i equate satisfaction with the guise of i'm-perpetually-happy: those are two distinct subjects. what i recognize instead is that where one spends time reflects and influences a person's life.<br />
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i'm 39.<br />
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i'm 39 and i've been divorced for eight-ish years. thank you, state of california, for making that date such a fuzzy target. do i go by the date i petitioned the court? or after the requisite six months passed?<br />
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i'm 39 and i'm divorced and i still don't talk about it very openly because who knows the source of my meager web traffic. i'm assuming it's mostly people i personally know or who knew me once. the sparse comments certainly don't contribute to my clarity. but, you know, i'm sure i could offend someone or hurt someone else.<br />
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i've done all of that before here. i alienated the best friend who grew up around the corner from me because of a misunderstanding and i've never been able to reconnect with her. i tried. i donated to the cause when she was sick. i was (am) so sorry.<br />
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so i chucked my entire blog. the bits and bytes are backed up on a flash drive. memories, apologies, my life in ones and zeros.<br />
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i'm 39 and i just took my first self-defense class ever. suddenly i'm thinking on all those things my mother tried to tell me. i'm feeling vulnerable and hesitant about not traveling in pairs from place to place. where's that balance, i wonder? the one that is cautious and careful but lives life fully and isn't intimidated by being alone?<br />
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allow me to return to the point, which is life. i'm 39 and independent. i'm strong. i've earned my keep and i have a bonafide career where i get tasked to work on things that occupy my brain to the fullest capacity (but not constantly). i love the work. concurrently, i'm also alone.<br />
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at this point i can go a couple of ways. i could tell you about how i reminisced on the past minus all its blemishes (many that i take equal responsibility for, mind you). i could tell you about the pangs of terror at the thought of stepping into 40 under my current set of circumstances. pushing the tears aside though, what i'll tell you is the pervasive nugget of truth in all of this: i persist.<br />
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i persist and the tremors of sadness are temporal things that are swept sideways by the deeper truths: i have an amazing companion in the remaining cat from the trio i had eight-ish years ago<br />
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**i wrote this in april 12, 2016, but i just stumbled on it today. i hadn't finished my thought at the time, but i'm finally ready to publish it. it's worth mentioning that that backup of my former blog was inadvertently cannibalized when i was backing up my computer about six months ago. i'm sorry it happened, but what is the point in bemoaning the loss? so many things were eaten up then, save those files i'd bothered to care for: my photos and my music. interestingly, my notes and papers from paralegal classes survived, but none of my writing. zero.<br />
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it's time to start again.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-64658134484531500922016-02-03T21:35:00.001-08:002016-02-03T21:36:33.477-08:003 feb 2016what's the thing that drives you? give your time and your energy to that thing. make it a priority.<br />
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on the heels of about 80 minutes at the piano, i know that i've found it. being able to play freely for the first time in years without concern over disrupting someone else is undoubtably the best thing for my health. one neighbor has complimented my playing, the other hasn't made a single peep about it. i've played mozart, moszkowski, and martin cuellar. i've practiced scales and done hanon exercises. i've sightread bartok. if something's going to give, it'll likely happen now and not several months from now. i'm lucky that the only thing under my apartment is a garage, because i think that is where the sound has the most potential for intrusion.<br />
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what gives with all the piano playing? i'm making large plans, my friends: a year from now, i'm giving a concert. recital? i haven't decided what the appropriate term is. i'm having this thing. i'm going to invite friends and i'm going to play piano. there a nervous anticipation brewing in my chest just dreaming about it. will i be able to collaborate with fellow musicians? because that sounds like so much fun. if not for this performance, it's certainly something to aspire to.<br />
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the dust has settled. i've almost been in this place for six months and for a while i didn't know what was next. in fact, i'm sure i had more than one conversation along the lines of "what do you do?" wherein i replied, "well, i go to work, come home, read, pet my cat, cook. and i'm not sure what else i want to do at this point, but i'm really happy." i knew that wouldn't last forever, and i'm grateful to have something to work on.<br />
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also, i'm still rather happy.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-14571212210443801182016-01-17T19:19:00.001-08:002016-01-17T19:19:38.327-08:0017 jan 2016i'm trying to be less of a perfectionist.<br />
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to that end, i might actually go back in time and restore my old blog data (if i can figure out how to do that) sometime down the line.<br />
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as i find myself blogging more frequently, i'm learning to be patient with the amount of time it is taking to rediscover my voice. i find my words deficient in their communication; looking back at some posts makes me want to cringe--or hit delete.<br />
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i stay inside on a beautiful sunny day because i just can't settle on what i should be doing if i go outside. social paralysis is an overstatement, but when i have options at my fingertips and barely move from my living room, i don't know if i can say i'm enjoying my life to the fullest. (if you hadn't guessed, i'm talking about today.)<br />
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i could have gone to the grocery store, the gas station (even less glamorous), the movie theater, the library, the local hiking trail.... what did i do? well, i cleaned for about two hours this morning, and then i went to brunch with a friend, and then i came home and watched downton abbey. oh! i should mention i played piano for a while and phoned my parents. i don't mean to imply that it's been a total waste of a day--it hasn't--but i just think that i could have done better.<br />
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the perfectionist in me wants to constantly rewrite and edit until i have the clearest and bestest meaning conveyed that words can communicate. is that really the way to live a life? instead, how about don't apologize for being yourself. i will always strive to improve, but arguably some imperfect communication/blogging is better than none.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-27508251359928137512016-01-11T20:58:00.003-08:002016-01-11T21:01:11.542-08:0011 jan 2016<div style="text-align: left;">
so many people have memorialized David Bowie so poignantly today.... for me, it was Bowie all day long in my earbuds. i sampled a musical education that i wish i'd taken the time to get much earlier as i have never been well versed in his discography. do yourself a favor: have a listen.<br />
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what did i learn? David Bowie was immensely talented (surely an understatement). five decades of albums means that he fully explored the diversity of musical genres. i assure you, if you don't find something you like then it's your own damn fault.<br />
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here are my highlights from today's exploration. reader, do share a favorite or four in the comments so that i make sure to give it a listen. <br />
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<iframe allowtransparency="true" frameborder="0" height="380" src="https://embed.spotify.com/?uri=spotify%3Auser%3Afuriousmuse%3Aplaylist%3A4n301rt4aQJOXgPJWj6Gr4" width="300"></iframe></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-73594666495265216462016-01-10T11:22:00.001-08:002016-01-11T21:01:32.408-08:0010 jan 2016today is a race against myself: a day of uber-productivity. i haven't done much yet: i've composed two separate "To Do" lists, eaten breakfast, listened to some podcasts, emptied the trash, watched an episode of downton abbey, ordered acoustic foam to stuff into my soundboard...you don't want a list, do you?<br />
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i also woke from a very intense dream about taking piano lessons and prepping for a concert that was a week away.<br />
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what am i doing writing all this though: it's time to get those errands run!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-57317266012047312592016-01-05T22:30:00.003-08:002016-01-05T22:40:17.224-08:005 jan 2016i'm taking charge this month in some key areas that have been neglected.<br />
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<ol>
<li>write more. this blog will get improve, and there will be some non-blog-related writing as well. </li>
<li>self care. a balanced life approach incorporating more sleep and exercise (stretch, strengthen, bike, yoga). and maybe a little more discipline in terms of prepping my own food as i certainly prefer it. i'd like to save dining out for special occasions, not because i was lazy and didn't pack my lunch. </li>
<li>feline care. an appointment is on the calendar. poor moxie will have to tolerate a 45 minute drive to my favorite vet.*</li>
<li>make music. my piano is set to be tuned on friday. my neighbors have no idea what they're in for. </li>
</ol>
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i think that's enough to start, don't you?<br />
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*i feel like quality is so valuable these days. i drive an hour to get my hair cut, why scrimp on veterinary care? the doctor in town that i went to for mango was amazing, but palliative care was minimal and reasonably priced. when updating moxie's shots there was a discussion about dental care and the quote was simply off the charts. the excellent bedside manner and staff's empathy throughout the euthanization process aside, i see no reason to go back there and pay double what i would at my former office. it bears mentioning that i've known that veterinarian since 1998 and trust her implicitly.<br />
do you go the distance far for quality service, products, or other things? tell me about it!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-32434477078007298512016-01-04T22:34:00.001-08:002016-01-05T22:02:00.076-08:004 jan 2016tonight i baked <a href="http://sallysbakingaddiction.com/2015/06/12/salted-vanilla-toffee-cookies/" target="_blank">salted vanilla toffee cookies</a>. i love the salty sweetness that this recipe brings. in my version i played around with the salt and found the best flavor when sprinkling the raw dough balls with kosher salt instead of sea salt. i'm bringing about 4 dozen cookies to the office tomorrow: i'm tired.<br />
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*update: no more cookies (except the few i stashed in my freezer). success!Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-83634923383832586892016-01-02T21:59:00.002-08:002016-01-06T22:03:38.513-08:002 jan 20162015 treated me fine: continuing a job i love, the new apartment that prompted me to donate my stash of boxes, amazing memories with family and friends alike. there were downturns along the way that promoted varying degrees of tears: the death of a beloved pet, a good friend moving away, missing out on a long-standing plan to watch the new star wars film with my sister's family. this is life, is it not? it goes up and down in no predictable order and when a year rises like a phoenix from the ashes of the previous (too grandiose an image?) i find myself wondering if i'm supposed to be doing something else.<br />
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i've wondered what's next since i moved in august. the clock hanging in the kitchen loudly announces the passing seconds. i love my work. i can't seem to find a piano tuner. none of this is causing me anxiety and yet somewhere in the background i feel like i should be anxious about <i>something</i>.<br />
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since getting divorced roughly eight years ago, i have fought to find my place, my self. i've looked back at what happened, tried to understand my part in the dissolution of a nearly ten year relationship, and have pushed myself to continually grow. 2013 was a landmark year in that regard, primarily because i landed the role that birthed the Dream Job. after nine months in one department, a spot opened up on my current team. on any given day i look back and am flooded with gratitude.<br />
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for me, inner peace begins with my ability to provide personal stability. life's got some rough edges and kinks, sure, but the view is just fine. let me tell you what it looks like:<br />
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it's a saturday night and i'm home. i'm winding down from hosting one of my favorite people (the same one who moved away). my cat moxie is loafing it up on the sofa as i've decided to blog on my laptop. i napped here earlier, following a two-ish hour walk with a friend by the beach and a delicious thai lunch. i have food in my fridge, tea in my cupboard, and downton abby queued up so i can finally see what all the fuss has been about. i ordered some sundries from target because i would rather shop online most days. there are four library books scattered throughout my living room, both fiction and nonfiction. they are: the girl in the spider's web [lagercrantz], just a corpse at twilight [van de wetering], words without music [glass], and dalton trumbo: blacklisted hollywood radical [ceplair and trumbo]. all of this contributes to my overwhelming contentedness.<br />
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i'm going to enjoy it (life/2016). i worked tirelessly to earn this: bachelor's in '08, paralegal in '13, interviews, nine moves in eight years.... there's a month of overtime coming up, so i may not really get moving on personally planning things until february. my goals on the horizon include the grand and the small: travel, tuning the piano for the first time in nearly three years (followed by regular playing), writing, cycling, reading, hiking, cooking, baking. it's my year to do as i want to and i'm looking forward.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7929677993272253440.post-2976430612808634292015-10-18T12:41:00.001-07:002016-01-31T18:46:46.298-08:0018 oct 2015i got the news on friday and i've been catching giant sighs in my lungs ever since. my namesake, and someone who i've grown very close to over the past few years, is moving north.<br />
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i'm learning the nuance of adult friendships. the intensity of my connection to another at a given moment is a bit of a moving target based on a variety of factors. however, nothing highlights closeness like the threat of inaccessibility and by the time thanksgiving rolls around there will be seven hours between us rather than half an hour.<br />
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i'm sitting on a mixture of joy and sadness. it's extremely hard to write about it. </div>
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