happinest

a few new pieces from me: 1 + 2 (m, remember?)

:: inspire happy
elizabeth fleming

:: watch : read : listen
feist on sesame street (thanks, p; i do love me some feist)

clyde: where are my sheets for school?

me: sorry, clyde, you’ll have to use the school’s sheets again today. i haven’t been that great at staying on top of laundry.

clyde: you never stay on top of laundry. you’re not good at laundry, mom.

from blogher (most notably this reading) and zinefest and foodfoodfood in san francisco to tracy times (miss you already!) and poet playdays (sob! come over!)—and blocking out, of course, the painful memory of this little pigeon killer—it was a happy happy weekend…

i packed it all in, and here are a few thousand highlights:

:: inspire happy

(old friends)
tracy (*) • poet (**) • tracey • jennifer • susan • lindsay • tomas

(new reads)
lesbian dad • bus reports • immoral matriarch • kirtsy • fivestar • lovebabz

(food + drink)
fish + farm • chez papa resto (*) • blue bottle (**) • nutella bomboloni
lonza, peach, mint sammy • peach pizza (**) • brown butter pecan • cafe 504 (**)

(fun)
ruby skye (*) • the owl tree (*) • harry denton’s starlight room (*) • white horse

(pretties)
mom o matic’s automat • superhero • flashbulb • imp perfect
podpost • rare device (**) • julia rothman • popote

* photo blogged here
** photo blogged here

yep, i’m a goner.

hope to see some of you here.

okay, so i was going on and on about my creative woes, and i forgot all about music. music totally helps, just as it always has. how could i forget? again? i mean, i think the only reason i got through all the creative writing assignments in grad school was because of liz phair, pj harvey, joan osborne (shut up; i love her), and tracy bonham. with this kind of inspiration, it’s no wonder my poetry teacher liked to call me “surprisingly sassy” {{eye roll}}. i died a little every time she used these adjectives to describe me.

so the other day, after posting about the creative blockage, i had to drive out to my mom’s to pick up clyde (about 30 mins. in traffic) and i actually thought to put in a CD. and the music hit. and within minutes, i was fumbling for my little pocket journal. an idea for my writing project! another for a submission! and some other incredibly profound, no doubt, epiphanies!

(and you know, who really cares if they go anywhere or mean anything in the end? after all, i positively live for the moments within the unstoppable creative burst. the bursting is everything. i mean, it’s a total miracle when something stirs the soul so satisfyingly—even for just a few moments. if it can later, by some other magical miracle, turn into some creative other thing (writing, photography, etc.) and stir the soul of someone else, well then, halle-frickin’-lujah!)

the problem for me is i only really listen to music in the car and i hardly drive anymore. and when i do drive, i usually just listen to the news. no, i don’t have an ipod (although i do keep a modest itunes list), and plus, i’m really lame about staying up on the current music. always have been. i find a few things i like and listen to them over and over.

like i’ve been listening to the once soundtrack and tegan and sara and basically this same old mix for like a year now. i do also love she + him. i’ve checked out and liked some of the weepies and sarah aubrey. love lots of the new portishead.

but i could really use some music help in the name of inspiration. what are you listening to? what music’s stirring your soul? please, help a poorly listened girl out, will you?

other inspirations:

• the cool morning air (finally!!!) from the open window
• peaches, just peaches
• a cup of las hermanas (i think i’ve almost kicked my decaf coffee habit)
• the countdown to blogher (3 days!)
• the mockingbird’s love dance (he’s completely flipping out right now in some kind of bird love dance-a-thon)
• the way leo looks out at him and says “bood”
• print giveaways (tomorrow!)

:: inspire happy
rental skates (wow, will i ever rollerskate again?) • L#02

:: want
lemon fizz slingbacks • evergreen shoulderbag • atlantian pitcher

:: watch : read : listen
a little bit of knowledge • andrew stanton on fresh air

i’m a bit of a mess. unfocused. unmotivated. uninspired. undisciplined and without much-needed routine. unsatisfied. a.k.a. *not* having the life i want.

(must disclaim, i speak of my creative life here. one to complement my motherhood and marriage and bad cooking abilities that are doing just fine at the moment)

is this what summer days of 107-degree heat, poor air quality, and a dryish freelance spells are for? when it’s blazing hot and smoky yellow outside and they advise us to stay inside, should i take heed? i mean, if everything happens because it’s supposed to, then i’m right on track. right? slothy weather = slothy creative person.

honestly, that doesn’t make me feel any better. i mean, i can’t wait for the onset of autumn to be moved again. my soul can’t wait. and this here feels downright crappy. this unmoving, stifling stillness.

i miss outside.

and i don’t feel like reading much more than blogs (i do love the blogs).

and plus, when work is slow, i feel unaccomplished in every avenue of my life (why don’t i ever feel creatively productive when my work life’s slow? this is simply not my truth).

and my next L Word won’t be here until tomorrow.

i need to find a way to grow and learn and be and create—even when times are uncomfortable. i need a bump. a startle (and not the kind you get when your cat, the one with the good bowels, suddenly lets loose with something flu-ishly awful all over the house). a creative jostle. a soft, sweet blow to the mind. can somebody please stop by and shake me up a little? go ahead. i’m ready.

maybe it is coming. maybe it will happen here. or on an upcoming “work” trip similar to this one. i will try to sit s t i l l and wait.

what’s shaking you up this summer?

:: inspire happy
soundscapes • buttons • slides • flower • birdhouse • yay, me!

:: want
to take a photo that makes me feel like this one

:: watch : read : listen
the L word (season 4) • wall-e

well, he’s sleeping in the bottom bunk now, my baby is. we no longer have a crib in our house, and i find myself taking more and more pictures of the back of his head of curls and his sweet belly button and trying to hold on tightly to him for a few more seconds before he makes his squirmy getaway.

it’s hard to imagine this is happening even as it is happening.

today leo gets his 15 minutes poised above an article (i haven’t read) at babble.com. they picked up my “slurp” photo from when he was just a bay-bee (he’s also on their home page for today). my baby. always (at least as he now appears on babble). :)

maybe i could tell you what it’s like to work a four-hour shift in the fireworks booth for clyde’s school. two days in a row. in 90-degree weather. outside a pizza joint with the smell of yummy, greasy pizza by the slice wafting into the booth.

but nah.

or i could talk about the L Word. again. now that, i could on and on about. Season 3 has me sobbing out loud. i mean, you’d think i was being stabbed to death in our living room. between being a parent and shifts at the fireworks booth, of course.

i love the show. so sue me. i can’t stop. i won’t stop until it’s (gasp!) over.

did i ever tell you that one time i was in target shopping and putting a bunch of useless cute crap i didn’t need into my basket, and i actually caught myself saying, “and you can’t stop me…”? out loud. quietly but out loud.

from time to time, i wonder who “you” is. like today when i caught myself saying it again while i was standing in line for some pesto pizza by the slice. is it me that i mean? am i the you? or is it like, god? or like…maybe…ghandi? or mother theresa? or possibly richard simmons? or oprah!

have a good 4th!

what can i say? i’m not blogging/looking for work/writing/reading because i’m completely enraptured by the L word. i can’t stop. i watched Season 1 in like a milla-second and am onto Season 2. totally totally immersed. my god, it’s so good.

sure, i’ve done this before with six feet under and big love and the sopranos, but every time i feel a little out of control. obsessed with the characters. completely powerless to the stories.

quite frankly, i…cannot…be…stopped…

i guess it’s not such a bad thing. i mean, i’m studying storytelling, right? and it’s like watching a character study, huh? and so what if ever time i get a disk in the mail, i watch all 3-4 eps that day. and so what if i go to bed to the show every night. think about it all day. and stalk the mailbox for the next eps. my life is still manageable. right?

don’t answer that.

the only reason i am writing you today is because my next disc didn’t show. and don’t think i’m not thinking evil thoughts about netflix and the mailman (who wasn’t our normal nice mailman but some stand-in who obviously misplaces very important mail). oh boy, i hope this extreme bitterness doesn’t turn into another amends.

what’s your current amour obsession?

:: inspire happy
this story • ever been dive-bombed by a blackbird? i have. so this made me laugh.

:: want
underpants necklace • tasty salted pig parts

:: watch : read : listen
the L word (season 2) • stroke of insight

part of staying sober is making a decision to live a more positive life going forward. to do things better this time. or at least try. because you got the chance and because you love having the chance. of course, that also means trying to make choices you can live with in all aspects of your life and to make determined strides toward being the person you want to be. it means saying sorry when sorry is due and taking responsibility when you’re wrong. it means looking at your part in every uncomfy situation. because you always play some part.

in my first few years of sobriety, i made the ugly list of people and situations that had harbored deep holes in my insides, and i started to chisel away at them. i looked at these things from all angles and tried to get at the core of their pain. the idea is to set all those ugly things free, or to try by taking responsibility for them, because if you don’t, they will keep burrowing in deeper and deeper. and their weight just might lead you back to the drink.

so i made several amends back then. some hard ones. some easier-than-i-thought ones. but because we are not perfect and neither are our lives and because our personal adventures included lots of alcohol consumption, it seems there are always more “i’m sorry’s” waiting in the wings.

like last week in santa cruz, for instance. there i was riding in the car with my husband of almost eight years and my two lovely, healthy boys. everything seemed so picture perfect. the scene from a good life. and then, right on the road into town, we drove by the diner. the precise diner where, with some girlfriends on a spring break 15+ years ago, we had dined and dashed just for the sheer “let’s see if we can” of it.

oh, that diner.

the one i had forgotten all about (sort of). the one i suddenly remembered stealing from and, even in the moment years ago, not feeling an ounce of exhilaration over. the regret on that old shit came to the surface rather quickly. right then and there in my *good* life.

i owed someone an amends.

i kept running it over and over in my mind that first day there. i’m not that person anymore. that was a lifetime ago. i am living a softer, easier life now. no one will ever know. i can just go on about my “good life” living, and no one will be the wiser.

to try to ease the radioactive drama in my skull, i told ed the story. he listened, but i could tell he didn’t understand the impact of what i was feeling right then. how could he? it was so deep down in there, so much a part of a bigger picture for me. and about then, i was really glad the hotel we were staying at served breakfast. i was hoping to sweep that one under the rug.

of course, that next morning, i stood in the hotel lobby staring into a silver chafing dish of disgusting gray meaty gravy and some soggy biscuits, and without a thought, i said to ed. “let’s go. let’s eat out.” just as grossed out as me over the hotel breakfast, ed agreed and we headed the kids to the car. “where should we go?” he asked. “up the road. there’s a diner,” i answered.

of course, ed had no idea i was talking about that diner. he was driving the car, but my heavy heart was driving the course. i didn’t even know consciously. not really. i mean, i knew where we were going, but i had no plan. no plan except to go with what i’ve learned in these years of sobriety. i mean, i know the heaviness isn’t going anywhere. and when you’re sober, it sure seems like you feel the physical pain of regret and shame burrowing in even more. or maybe it’s just the fact that you can’t turn to the numbing, temporary relief of alcohol. it’s not even an option anymore. not for me.

and sure, the whole internal scene probably felt more dramatic than the reality of the whole thing but not to me. i had to let it go. no way around it.

inside the diner, i sat with my family and my sunny side ups. i was almost wincing at the painful repercussions of the past. i am not that person anymore, i thought. i am living a new life. i am making up for my past by living a better life. one i can be proud about. but i knew none of that was enough. stop being such a damn goody goody. yep, it was definitely time to take action.

i took the coloring menu that leo half colored and i started writing: “hello. please pass this along to the management. i owe it to them from about 15 years ago. thank you.” then i folded it and slipped in some cash. ed smiled, and we started packing up the kids to go.

our waitress started clearing our table, talking to us and teasing the boys, before we were even ready to go. i had the immediate urge to run. to motion to ed and grab clyde and leo’s hands and tear out of there. but i stopped. i breathed. i was ready to take whatever came. i felt ready to own it. i walked slowly and easily to the door. i tried to slow down my breathing. i practically sauntered with my family to the car.

and then…nothing happened.

except the pain was gone. and the sky bluer. and my kids cuter. and my husband more wonderful. and my heart a tiny bit more free, as we drove off in my very own goody goody day in my goody goody life.