I’m sick. Don’t let me breathe on you. I have a summer cold: weepying itching eyes; red, runny nose; and that nasty chest that is a combination of feeling like I have a dozen bricks sitting on my chest and that something is trying to claw its way out of my lungs. I am propped up in bed, and have thought about life, what to have for supper, and cast on and worked a couple of rows on a knitting project. This is the first knitting I've done since May.
(I have made tea, and checked the cupboards and fridge freezer. Supper will be a fish filet on a bed of tomato sauce. You start with a bit of garlic sauteed in olive oil, then add a can of chopped tomatoes (or fresh --peeled, seeded and chopped-- if you have them), a half cup of white wine and some herbs. Once that heats up, stir in a can of white beans, rinsed. I have white kidney, but pintos or romano are fine. When that heats up, lay a fillet or two of fish on top, cover and let the fish steam til cooked. This is very good with sole fillets (with, possibly, a pinch of crushed anise seeds, stirred in). I have salmon fillets, which i have never used for this recipe, so it will be a bit of an experiment.)
A friend asked me a few days ago if I would ever write another blog post.
::sigh::
It’s like this. Life has been...um...”challenging” for the last 2 years, and it got significantly ramped up about 6 months ago, and the last 2 months have been particularly trying. In addition to my general existential angst and neurosises (“neurosi”?), we had some heavy duty stuff go on in the family, and in my work life. Now, lots of people have dealt with these things (and much worse) before and if I were to tell you what they are, you’d say “Yea, yea; been there and got the T-shirt. You’re lucky you haven’t had to deal with ::insert whatever here::. Buck up and write a blog post.”*** The thing is, it doesn’t matter how often you’ve watched these things go on in other’s lives, you’re never prepared for them when they start to play out in your own. I’m embarassed by how inefficiently I’m handling a lot of this, and I am amazed (and upset) by how little energy or brain space I have at the end of the day, and it’s very hard to explain how I’m feeling without also feeling guilty and whiney that I’m handling it all and feeling as I do. It’s like, somehow, I’m sitting in a theatre watching a scene in a movie where a deck of cards has been thrown in the air and now, we’re watching the cards drop to the floor in slow motion --except that the cards are all facets of my life, and I’m somehow waiting and watching to see where they land.
Sean wrote something that applies to me as well. Blog posts take effort and, further, I always feel that if I don’t have something interesting and meaningful to say, I shouldn’t waste the bandwidth. (When you feel you’re as interesting as the industrial grade carpeting on the office floor, it’s hard to come up with something interestingand meaningful, believe you me.) It’s a lot easier to slap a sentence or two up on Facebook. Except that recently I went through a spell where it was hard to think through even a sentence or two. Yet I wanted to communicate something, so I linked to some music videos on youtube. I realised that they were saying what I didn’t have words to say. (For an important perspective on the role of the musician in society, read this transcript of part of the address made by Karl Paulnack in 2004 to parents of the incoming class at the department of music at Boston Conservatory.)
Please invest a few minutes of your life in listening to this Intermezzo by Brahms, performed by Radu Lupu. One of the best.
So that's it.
*** To be fair, some people have sent encouraging emails or notes on Facebook, and if I did not write you back to say “thank-you”, it’s not because I don’t appreciate your concern. I do. I feel embarrassed and shamed to acknowledge how little it takes for me to feel overwhelmed. Oh, and another thing I’ve found interesting is my realization in the past few months of how much I appreciate letters, cards and post cards. They are “real” physical things; I can hold them in my hands. Somehow they have a lot more meaning for me than emails and PMs. This is not intended as a complaint to people to write emails or send PMs. It’s an observation about what makes meaning for me. I suspect I will never be an e-book reader owner.
In Other NewsRecently I have developed a severe deterioration in hearing with my left ear. Additionally, the tinnitus in both ears has increased. In some circumstances, it ‘s very difficult to hear some sounds. One might wonder if this is some kind of somatic metaphor for where I’m at in my life.
I think, though I am not sure, that I may be able to get to NY Sheep and Wool this October. At first I thought I wouldn’t be able to, then it looked like I would, but now I think I may not be able to get away from work as we may be short-staffed by then, but I am hoping to.
I have been spinning. This is the finished yarn from the dyed top you saw in this post. It's nice.
