I hope I never write anything about body acceptance. Oh crap, I just did. Well - I accept that I have a body and I accept that people of worth and value aren't going to discredit me because my BMI is not, well, acceptable. Even though I accept my BMI. However, I will be crabby with it if it doesn't change over the course of the next few months.
I've been glued to the couch or chair or floor or bed, reading. Reading, reading, reading. How do you think I feel about this? Hint: it is GLORIOUS. I've been doing some scritchings and typings, too. This is my summer. Stratagems have led to it. No, I don't have a lot of extra cash flow but why would I need it, when I'm reading and writing? Exactly.
Which means I've been putting on whatever unobtrusive outfit is laying about. Sometimes I dress wishfully - in exercise clothes. Usually it's a variation on the standard casual theme, which is boring - 80's shirt, black cargo pants. What my husband calls my "uniform". I mostly just don't want to think about what I'm wearing. I also don't fit into a lot of my favorite stuff - which is most of my closet. Or if I do fit into it, I don't like how it looks.
But I'm pretty benign about it. I know I will fit into it again. (I KNOW.) I know there will be plenty of occasions to dress up. Or to just dress better. Also - while today is in the low 70's, June has been plenty muggy, and I kind of hate it. Always have. So putting on lots of clothes and makeup just makes it worse.
I also know that the work I do now will make later, better. This is something I like about where I'm at. Assuming catastrophe doesn't befall me, I know what this next year will be like. And the next. Beyond that, not as much, though I know I'll be okay. Halfway through residency is a nice place to be. Feeling content to stay put in this house for those two years, too. (Though I'm open to change, as well. I just hate moving. Gah. The museum is a pain to pack)
I will wear things again. In the meantime, I do enjoy their existence and knowing that they're waiting for me. My relationship to clothes, while not of the stuff to move mountains, has its own story, I suppose. Maybe I could make it interesting and write about it at length, some day. Maybe not.
But beauty does slip into my life, nickel-and-diming me in a positive way, through the glory and wonder of thrift stores. Like with scarves. Heavens, do I love scarves.
I probably will never wear all of these scarves.
But they make me happy.
So does reading.
Ta ta for now.
Um, today's Hafiz is also for artists:
AN ENTHUSIASM TO EXPRESS DISCOVERY
Some painters were engaged in a passionate
conversation about the value of art.
It was an interesting discussion that I listened
to almost an hour without speaking.
Then a young woman turned to me and said,
"Any comments, Hafiz?" And these thoughts
came to mind that I spoke:
The greatest and most lasting art, the impetus
of it, I feel, always comes from a wanting to help.
A wanting to be free, and an enthusiasm to express
Each soul at some point will begin to feel all is
within it and then attends, as it were, to its own
inner world. That attendance may not result in
anything considered tangible reaching the masses.
But the artist also becomes aware of inner spheres
and mingles with them, and then puts those
experiences into what they most care about for the
world to see and touch if the world wants.
I know all my poems come from a wanting ti give
I'm in the middle of writing absurdist comedy, and I know not everyone is religious or spiritual, but here is this bit of encouragement, all the same. My silence will be external. Certainly not internal.
THIS IS THE TIME FOR SILENCE
The beauty of the mountain is talked about
most from a distance.
not while one is scaling the summit with
life at risk. That is the time for silence,
reflection, and drawing upon all your
skills so you might return from the cloud's
and inspire others to breathe closer to God,
while still human, the way you did.
So! I'm 10% through this year of thrifting! Which is just a weird way to think about it! But there you are!
And randomly, I can now look out my window. At Lorain Ave. Because the a/c is now not in my window. Go fall. ...Right?
This weekend was awesome. Full of so many of my wonderful theatre tribe. I'm grateful. HEAR THAT UNIVERSE? I'm grateful. :)
I'm also grateful for being myself and hoarding thrift-store books.
They came in extremely handy while I was writing my latest play. Both in the actual writing process and also for informing me over the years, as I've looked them through/read them here and there.
This is a picture of my corner where I write, apparently. Not on my desk. My desk is useful for holding up stacks of papers I don't want to look at. And pink ear plugs and something like 25 lip balms.
(You can see pink ear plugs and my favorite LipSmacker in this picture if you look closely enough. I know you want to do this.)
I'll write a post about writing, sometime in the near future. But for now, here is something from the beginning of my play.
Six women doing different things in different times*
Different times, in something like the United States
While the words here are my own, I’m gratefully acknowledging the inspiration and amusement that’s come from the following books**:
*See next page
**References available on request, of course.
The next page breaks down the six women into 40. Yep. 40 female characters. I WIN THE WORLD!!!
...But anyways. :)
Various books, from thrift stores here there everywhere (multiple states, from Ohio to California): 50 cents to $10.
There is a bike in front of my main bookcase.
I need to buy a rack for it and install it and put the bike on the rack and have my bookshelf back. There is an orange chair by the bookshelf, perfect for reading.
There is an a/c unit right above it, pumping out cold air. I need to not sit in front of the a/c.
I got rid of so many books in the move; the only ones I sorta regret are some plays. I think, though, that they are still at my parent's house. I kept all of my favorites, which is still a substantial chunk, but the other day, when I was scanning for Medea, IT WAS GONE. Unacceptable. I now allow myself to keep any book that is related to my education. Dash it all, I'm keeping ANY BOOK I WANT. I did my time, I did the work, I LIVED ON THE PROVING GROUNDS FOR A FREAKING LONG TIME; I'm a WEIRD BOOKWORM, and I honestly could live in a library and be more than content.
Someday, perhaps, I will have a library/drawing room with navy-blue walls, tall green plants, an antique library table for a desk, some Lucite furniture, and a fireplace. Sadly, a pug is not an option, but I can dream.
Right now, however, all I want to read about is Hollywood and fashion history.
In thrifting news, I did do a little bit of it yesterday, and while I had to pass up the gold-lame Frederick's of Hollywood shirt-and-skirt set (in the costume section of Goodwill, curse and bless them) because it was too small, I did allow myself this $5 Bill Blass delight:
No jokes about a bird in the hand.
Unless it's about this bird looking like a food-truck snack. Birdrito. I did not eat this bird. He was my companion for awhile yesterday, until he felt better. I had him in the napkin because I've been told birds can be rather dirty and infested. He was a buddy, though.
Casual reading. I love garage sales and used book stores. The top book was five cents (for real) and the other three were $4 each. I don't understand how someone could price something for five cents. Why not just price it one cent.
Alright. I'm pricing all the napkins in my car at one cent. That bird owes me.
It's hard not to look crazed when a) you have on silver penny loafers and b) your pants' tab is mysteriously not fastened. (In my defense my pants were zipped and buttoned. I am ethically and morally and spiritually against pants that have to be undone in order to be comfortable sitting down.)
But the original ruby slippers were, in fact, silver!!!
I have no illusions. I'm not Dorothy.
But these shoes will transport me to interesting places.
...and they weren't five cents. (The time had come for me to buy something new and worthwhile. More on quality footwear, later.)
Bein' pretty (read: pret-ty) chill here in the more northern part of Lincoln Land. Yep, I just said Lincoln Land. It gets easier to say, when not in the black hole (*cough* Springfield) of Lincoln Land. ;) Though I do respect and love Springfield. And will never speak of it again.
Got a Kindle Fire for Christmas, and have stockpiled a few gift cards from Amazon, and besides the "Beginner's Ashtanga Yoga" video and subscription to The New Yorker I'm still kind of chewing on what to download/buy. Okay I did download for free "Leaves of Grass", "The Enormous Room", and a Biblical commentary by early suffragists because those women meant business and I'm highly interested to see what they do with fanatically patriarchal texts, as the whorehouse history book that I have been haphazardly reading put it. But those were FREE.
And of course, it's really hard not to want to re-read The Hobbit. Let me tell you a little bit about my "ways" of what some people (me) might call "ridiculousness". I recently went through my books (as you probably know) and saw that I had a nice hardbound copy of it and also a softcover that belongs to my dad, so I took that back home. Well, my mom had me wrap a VERY nice little copy of it for my dad for Christmas, and it was all scriptural-looking, and I salivated over it and coveted it (though did not begrudge my dear dad having it), and I went to see the movie and then all hell broke loose. I got even more The Precious about obtaining multiple copies of The Hobbit but then remembered this:
I come from people who have EXTREME AMOUNTS of Tolkien books. (That is my dad on the right and that is his collection of "randomizers") (And books)
And then I borrowed one that isn't the one I brought back because that would just be silly, and that has been that, as I still have my one copy at home and I do not need the Bible-looking one (though I still want it) and as I own it I don't need to download it on my Kindle.
Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.
And I lost at LOTR Trivial Pursuit. To my dad. Which makes sense. But my little sister Abi, about halfway through the game started to say to me, after I answered various questions incorrectly, "you didn't KNOW that?!" until I got irate (game-style, which is not the same as regular irate, like driving and traffic irate) and informed her I wouldn't have answered it incorrectly if I had known it. Not all of us have steel traps for brains/memories. I can sing like Thorin, and that's all that matters.
Ok and there's this one more thing along those lines. I recently read this tweet: "I don't want a doctor to tell me I'm going to die. I want Gandalf." (@SamuelMoen, I don't know him but he's funny.)
Ok and ONE MORE THING:
Yes, I just posted a meme on Dirt Chic.
Ok I think I better go to bed. This has clearly descended into dangerous territory, and, well, I have to go read The Hobbit.