Twitter and Rilke

I've started tweeting. It began for work and now it has become a past-time verging on an addicting activity for me. Though much of it has been fun musings and interactions I have also come across some great information....even inspiring....

One thing I started doing was "following" artist/writers/poets/film makers/musicians. I believe I do this in an effort to surround myself with these people that are compelled to create. I don't fancy myself as any of the above or to be the creative type. I am insecure about my artistic sensibilities. What I do know is that I want to learn about this creative-process. I want to enmesh myself around creativity. I want to see and feel it my bones.

I came across this blog "A Year with Rilke" and this poem. Over the past 2 days I have left it open on my computer and have read it over and over again. It has invaded me. Each time I'm seeing and feeling something new in its words and stanzas. In the darkness of the reality there is such beauty and hope.

Posted from "A Year with Rilke"

Want the change. Be inspired by the flame
where everything shines as it disappears.
The artist, when sketching, loves nothing so much
as the curve of a body as it turns away.

What locks itself in sameness has congealed.
Is it safer to be gray and numb?
What turns hard becomes rigid
and is easily shattered.

Pour yourself out like a fountain.
Flow into the knowledge that what you are seeking
finishes often at the start, and, with ending, begins.

Every happiness is the child of a separation
it did not think it could survive. And Daphne, becoming a laurel,
dares you to become the wind.

Sonnets to Orpheus II, 12


Signed,

 Annie

Living with Women

I read an opinion piece the other day about Lesbian households. The writer argued that Lesbians tend to be happier couples because the distribution of work comes pretty close to even. 


"studies have shown time and time again that no matter how progressive and feminist and smart and supportive a husband is, it’s still very statistically likely that he does less than 50% of household chores, regardless of the division of labor outside the home between he and his wife. But the upshot of that is that most American women have developed a pretty insane skill set as far as balancing demanding jobs out of the home as well as the demanding job of doing all the work inside the home, on top of caring for a family. When both heads of the household are women, that’s a lot of skills being brought to bear."


Truth! Whenever my sister is over or my mother comes to stay things get done. Dishes cleaned, floors get swept, trash taken out, laundry folded and put away, kids dressed, hair combed. It all gets done without a plea having to be sent out or even a word uttered. 


Maybe I am going to start living with women? It's a thought. At least I will be living with someone who comes with some of the same ideas and perspectives on life. For instance she wouldn't walk over toys 100 times and still NEVER put them away. I wouldn't have to have an emotional breakdown every time I become overwhelmed with the burden of caring for the family. Why, because she would be right by my side doing it all with me. 


I do joke here, I am not going to live with women, but it is a thought to be considered, like I stated in the last post.....Why do we allow these men to get away with doing 50% less than us? SERIOUSLY!


Signed,
I wish my husband was a woman,
Annie

Equality?

Are we as women truly treated equally? I am serious here. Take a moment and think about it? Does society treat us fairly? Do we treat each other fairly?

I have written before about ROLES and I have ranted about them too. As I write this I don't rage or rant rather I ask the serious question if we as women are doing ourselves a disservice when we take on the majority of the work load for our families. I see this played out all the time. I know there are exceptions to the rules, and I love seeing those, but mostly I see us women working our asses off to please our men, care for our children, ourselves, and our friends. We do it all! Once we were the 50's housewife. Now we are that AND some!



Here is my inventory:


I organize (5 peoples LIVES and SHIT)
I clothe 5 people
I research my interest
I manage the social, medical, and work calendars
I am the party planner
I am the family photographer
I discipline
I listen to music
I manage 3 children's schedules
I manage the household nutrition (menu plan, shop, cook)
I am the family finance manager
I work
I keep us connected to friends
I veg out on TV
I file
I educate

And I am sure much more. You see that we as women juggle a tremendous amount in our lives. Even without children we juggle a lot. ALL while having washed hair, a little rouge on, and fashionable attire. We make concerted efforts to connect with our friends and family. We are constantly feeling and doing. We don't shut down often, because if we do our worlds would fail. And what has this done? What have we really accomplished? Have we just perpetuated the inequality in society? We have forced everyone to be reliant on us; children, men, friends, family.

I like to think of myself as liberated yet I see I am not. I don't allow equality to enter my life. I WANT TO DO IT MYSELF. I like the punishment maybe? I certainly like the control!

I can't anymore. I refuse to DO IT ALL. I refuse to become the martyr. Today I demand of myself no longer an A+ lifestyle or the I-can-do-it-all woman. I accept B-. I do what is needed and let the rest go. (NOT going to be easy for me, but I have to. I have to force equality this way. I have to find a balance. I accept my responsibilities but will not take on more than that. Or more than I can handle).

Let's see how it goes.

Signed,
Searching for equality Annie

Raging Storm

The rain pours down hard. The sky lost its blue beauty and rushed to grey all to quickly, I didn't even have time to say goodbye. I started to feel a bit reflective...

Lately I've been forced to confront the central issue of what this blog has become: Life Does Not Turn Out Like You Planned. We all grow up with dreams and hopes. Constructing visions of what our lives will be like. Some of which are created from desire, but at the same time greatly influenced by what society tells us we 'should' desire. Then we move forward and make choices. We follow a path laid before us. And then LIFE....boom...we are living it.  We are on a path built out of part choice. I say part, because do we REALLY truly choose our lives or are they chosen for us? (Well at least up to a certain point. Meaning I didn't choose to have a divorced family. I didn't choose my religious upbringing, etc. You get where I am going.) How do you reconcile when the life you lead does not match up to the life you imagined and created in your dreams? Isn't that one of the big questions we all have? Isn't that where the tension of life lies? For me it is, and maybe for you too.

What do we do with that tension? I have no idea.
What I do know is this. I choose to start taking control of my life choices. I choose to find happiness where ever I can. I realize I must work through my past in the present. I cannot live in the 'what if', regret, or in the promises of the future. I must grasp the moment I am in. I must embrace who I was and who I have become. The truth is that I would not be ME without the past and the present.

As the storm rages on outside my window and I meditate under the glow of this computer screen, I take joy in knowing the storm inside me just might be calming.

Signed
Annie

Howl

Recently I watched the movie Howl. I initially was drawn to watch because of James Franco, my new actor crush. Then I read that it was about one of our great American poets, Allen Ginsberg. Over the last year or so I have started to read a bit of the beat writers....I find them fascinating and intriguing. The freedom of their voice, the fluid way in which they wrote, thought, lived. Admittedly I am not one that leans to the creative. I also don't have a long history or knowledge of literature. I want to learn more and soak it all in. (There are days I wish that I had paid more attention to what I found interesting in my younger days. Let my impulse and interest direct me more than my obligations and perceived expectations. Then I may have become a student of the world. Though, NOW I can do that...)  All that to say that after watching the movie I wrote. Nothing thought out but released. As Ginsberg explains, from the inside....

Letting go

Letting be

Letting live

Realizations met, expectations lost.

Stand and stare.

Fleeing from me....pushed out. Grief that there is no longer pain and sadness. 

Escaped like a vapor.

Window from inside I glare. Letting go of...

Da-Da-Da-Da

Life goes---movement---flow

grabbing the moment, expressing it, holding it. 

Da-Da-Da-Da

Rolling and moving. 

They create. The live. They watch and move.

Obligation to none.

Da-Da-Da-Da

Letting go.

Letting be.

Letting in.

Push.

Pull.

I look out the window beyond that ivy wall. There lives life.

Vapors. Away.

No longer there and thats why I cry.

No longer sorry. 

The comfort.

The crow flew over. He has been absent.

Talk and fly.

Da-Da-Da-Da

Beyond the ivy wall the crow lived and moved.

Da-Da-Da-Da

Life goes on all around.

Obligation or impulse?

Both.

I Howl to no one. I Howl from within. The place that neither crow, nor man, nor woman has seen or heard.

Frightening myself.

My feelings flee from me. Consume me.

A vapor beyond the ivy wall.

Same. Same. Same. Same. Same. Same.

Da. Da. Da. Da. Da.

Beyond the ivy wall.

The same here. There. Everywhere. Same. Stir the noodles.

Cry. Pray. Wake. Sleep. Pray. Cry. We're the same.

Vapors of feelings standing behind windows. Feeling.

Push and pull.

Pull. Obligations pull.

Push. Impulse pushes.

Da. Da. Same. Same. Da. Da.

Letting go. 

Letting be.

Letting live.

Beyond the ivy wall I want to be.

There is a howl from inside I feel stir in me frequently. I have not identified exactly what it means to me or my life but I am starting to listen and express its sentiments.

As my ipod rolled songs this one came on....aptly titled "Howl."

Signed,

Annie

Exercise and Therapy

I realize I just stopped writing about the accident in this blog (or I just stopped writing altogether, again) but I am still reliving that tragedy, mentally...and physically.

One of the positive consequences of the accident was I started taking care of my body more. And as my dad taught me, exercise for the body, is exercise for the mind.

The first step was to seek physical therapy before I tried to start working out again. Since I was struggling mentally and physically, I was referred to a practioner in Beverly Hills to have CST work done (cranial sacrial treatment), which helps with healing of the mindy and body. Not only were my legs and pelvis and head and neck being adjusted and realigned, so too was my mind, as the practitioner forced me to address the mental chaos that was causing physical discomfort. He was seaking to heal me mentally as well as physically.

I always knew there was a connection between the body and mind but I never was so in tune with how body reacted to my emotions. I finally understood what my therapist was asking all those times when she would say, "So how does your body feel?" And I would answer, "Um, my fist is clenched?" Duh, I didn't know. For example, stress usually causes a headache and neck and shoulder tension. Fear and anxiety can cause stomach discomfort and irritable bowel syndrome. Anger can cause my chest to feel strained. But there was so much more my body was doing after the accident. so that after a few adjustments, it was as if I was blessed with a miracle worker and I was practically healed in body and mind.

After just three sessions, my back and neck were feeling better and I was less emotional. Finally I was learning to cope with the accident.

Very soon after I was able to get back in the gym and started with yoga and pilates. Since I still did not have a car, I was forced to get a ride to the gym and spend more time there than I ever would have had I not been waiting for a ride. Trust me, it was far better than having to be at home, stuck with the Roommate. The gym was on the way home for one of my co-workers, and if I wanted to catch a ride with her, I had to leave work early. And that's when Brad was getting off of work really late, so, I found myself working out sometimes 2 to 3 hours. Stretching, Elliptical machine, pilates. Then my strength started returning and I began"spinning" before Pilates.

I would not say I was in the best physical shape, but it was nice to still be slim rather than immobilized and feeling sorry for myself. Believe it, or not, I actually miss having an excuse to spend so many hours at the gym. Having a car again means that I am happily back to kickboxing while still managing to do pilates once a week, but now, I go in for my class and leave the gym immediately after. Also, I come away from kickboxing hurting a bit in my back and knees, which is a reminder of the accident and that it left me vulnerable to further injuries in those areas if I am not careful and I overdo it.

And emotionally? I would say that I am stable. Kickboxing is great for getting out any aggression I feel on bad days. And speaking of, I could really use a kickboxing class now while sit furiously blogging because of the Roommate. I'll kickbox now in my mind. Target = The Roommate. Upper cut, jab, roundhouse. Again. Upper cut, jab, roundhouse....

Driving Me Crazy

I have to blog right now or else I am going to explode with anger and annoyance all at once. It does not help that I am PMSing. THE ROOMMATE. That is all I have to say.
No, that is not all I have to say. I avoid him as much as possible, and usually I can get away with it. But today, I had to talk to him. And I always say that if I spend even 5 minutes in dialogue with him something will come out of his mouth that will expose the boundaries he crosses on a daily basis and the infection he creates in this household. He has his opinions about Brad and always thinks that I want to hear them. For example, Brad went hunting with his dad this weekend and the Roommate said he just could not see Brad in hunting gear. And then the topic went into shopping, because Brad is a shopper and that is something more he can be seen doing. Then I started to share how I do not care much for shopping, I would much rather sit outside the mall on a bench with a book and wait for Brad, and that I didn't even know major labels until I graduated college. That's when the Roommate said, almost completely out of context, but yet strangely in it, that he just didn't understand guys who wear designer boxers. I knew he was talking about Brad....still. Because, yes, he does wear designer underwear, not boxers, but the briefs. Even so, why does he always have to be so obsessed with Brad. Last week he was wearing his slippers "because their comfortable" and now he pays attention to the type of underwear my man has on.
I am sooo not done.
After I have been gone ALL day, I get home ready to relax and read, but who is sitting smack in the middle of the couch, SICK, of all things to be while taking up the space in the living room. Damn it. He should be in his room. He has a TV (that we gave him, a big flat screen) and cable, so wouldn't he want to be up there so not to spread germs. SO where am I forced to go, the bedroom.
Then Brad gets home from his trip and wouldn't you think that THEN the Roommate would think to go upstairs - at 7p - so that Brad and I could enjoy an evening together in Brad's house. No, of course not. So, we go downstairs to start cooking dinner and I take my reading materials to the kitchen table and the Roommate asks, "Are you cooking dinner?" "Um Yeah," Brad says. Roommate says, "Well I'm cooking dinner soon and will need the oven."
FUCK ME!
And Brad says, "We'll be done soon." Seriously, no, we'll be done never and deal with it, is what I wanted to scream.
So the Roommate prepares a salad and takes it back up to the TV and I hear him sniffling and coughing and the TV just blaring. Needless to say that we just had our carpets cleaned and now we need to do the couch because the Roommate has stained both when eating in front of the TV. So did he go up there and eat with a tray? NO!
The second we finished eating dinner, the Roommate comes into the kitchen and is trying to make dinner around me as I'm washing dishes. I could not even say a word to him. I could not look at him. I want to scream.
And hear I am screaming with my fingers!
How is it that Brad and I are over our 30s, living together...with a Roommate. The extra money is nice for Brad I am sure, but I never, ever want to be home. "Home." Yeah, right. This is not home until the Roommate is gone.
At least I got a raise this past week. The future is looking brighter.
-
MJ