Sweeping out the old stories (Liz along the way)

Sweeping out is actually #81 in the Sufi book of life which includes the 99 pathways, and I believe names the Sufi's have for god. When I was in college I took a spiritual retreats class, and visited a sufi abode, and they had all these names listed on the wall, and they were names for god. I was fascinated. I figure if god is in the details, it kind of makes sense to have different names for all those details.
The name for sweeping out is Al-Muntaqim.

In chrinological line of the stories from my travels I have just finished posting for April. On the last day of the marathon of April I was railing against the gods, mostly because I had found all this new stuff, but was still just as confused as ever about how things would fit in my life. I was on the phone with Ria ranting and raving at one point. Not yelling at her, but just yelling to her about life, fate, gods of the world, and a bunch of other things. Following this I ended up hanging out with Josh and Alana and giving drunken tarot readings. According to both of them the tarot readings were pretty good, but I really shouldn't get drunk and give tarot readings when I've spent part of my evening railing against the gods. I don't think it's a good idea for most people to get drunk when they are the kind of angry I was. I ended up with a sinus infection shortly after that night.

I don't get really angry much.
I get frustrated a lot, but that's okay because when i get frustrated I usually get creative and persistent. Some of my most creative interventions at work have come because I was frustrated with how things were going with a client (I'm a child and family therapist).
However I realized the other night that the angry comes when I am so hurt or drained that i just can't anymore. I'm really good at loving people and taking care of them, and pretty good at doing things that help me create the things I want in the world. I'm also able to accept that people struggle with themselves, and I try not to get too hurt by things people do, because most of the people I keep around me are good people and they wouldn't want to try and hurt me. Still sometimes things don't go the way I want or sometimes people's carelessness can really hurt.
April was more things not going the way I wanted.

However two days ago was my birthday, and for about two weeks before this I had written a poem I had been trying to write for a while, and it touched on places where I had been really hurt.
Here's the poem.

He has lost his name
It has gone the way of socks in the dryer
lost marbles
and I could say the lost city of atlantis,
but as much as he might think so
he isn't really that important

The nameless mass of memories has collapsed upon itself.
I can hold it in my hand
Crystalline, pockmarked, and still glowing a little.
I carry it behind the door to a lead lined room

In the room there is a basket
for all the girls who became "that girl"
I don't like that girl
I don't trust that girl
That girl is.......
Any number of adjectives or descriptors
thrown into the basket
lumped in like laundry
waiting to be matched back up to their humanity.

Above the basket on the wall their is a shelf
with metal dividers
The first few spaces are empty
the labels underneath say things like
"The boy in the blue silk boxers"
"The arrogant bastard"
"the mistake i dated twice"
and "Mr pick-a-lane"

Next to that is a space with a box in it
it says "Jacob I have loved"
That boy was tricky.
he didn't get a label
he got a book title.

It was held in ellipses
like the tongs used to hold nuclear material
after it has been used to fuel so much
There are places in those memories that are dangerous to me
they can mutate who I am
or radiate poison through my body
There is only so much the water's of my emotions can handle

I know because my grandfather died
when the water crept up the inside of his body
from his ankles, knees, thighs, belly, up to his lungs where he drowned
I have no wish to die that way.

So I carry the latest mass of memories in my hand
Aware that if left alone it could start fires in other people's houses
I put it in a new box and label the shelf
"self absorbed cynic"
I walk out,
shut the door
and slink down with my back against it.

I will go back in that room empty handed time and again.
It seems foolish I know
but as long as I am holding onto those people
as nameless masses of memories
there is still part of me
that is the wounded victim or the angry bitch
who took those names away from them.

So when I can,
When I heal a little more
or when I feel stronger
I will go back in that room
pull down a box
take out what's inside
Brush of the harmless dirt
that has collected over the half lives of memories
Breathe, Cry, Maybe yell a little
and check the geiger counters
to see if what I am holding is poisoning me
or if it's safe now
no more damaging than an X-ray

I'll look down into it
checking for glimpses of that lost name
scrape away at the sides
trying to get it free
I'll take a deep breath as the pieces fall away
and hope that the day has finally come when I can give that name back to him.


During the two weeks between writing this and my birthday I realized both of those boys who still had boxes in the poem I tended to associate with my birthday. Jacob is named in the poem, and there are two reasons I associate him for my birthday. I moved to Worcester after my birthday at the end of 2002. September 2003 was my first birthday Jacob was one of my dearest friends at the time, and he and my parents conspired to get him to Worcester for my birthday. It made me so happy. However the flip side of that is 5 years later for my 30th birthday I had asked my friends for one thing "Tell me your favorite Liz story". I called them on my birthday talked with them to hear stories, and heard tons of things. it was great overall. When I called Jacob he didn't have time for me. I cried, but didn't make anything much of it, because I'm usually good at forgiving people, and I get that people don't alway have time. And besides this was after the cross country trip where we had such a good time, and I was planning the Vegas trip, so I was hoping to see him later in the year. But when he bailed on the Vegas trip, I never got my Liz story.
I feel like I have to put in that this isn't just a dump on Jacob. I wrote him an e-mail and told him how I was hurt and how he had made me feel worthless at the time, and how I didn't think I could be friends with him like I was, but maybe we could just be whatever kind of relationship their was to be when I saw him next. When he read the e-mail he called right away. He offered
to fly out to Boston so we could talk this out. I said no, that he was really good at the grand gestures, but this one couldn't be made up in a grand gesture. He was most upset because I wasn't mad. He wanted me to be mad, and was most upset because I wasn't. I just kind of wished him well. And the funny thing is it was a completely honest wishing him well. I knew he didn't intend to hurt me, but being mad would be allowing him access to the part that was hurt, and I couldn't trust him to do that, so he was not going to be the one who helped that get better. Mostly it was me who had to do that.

The story of the "self absorbed cynic" (henceforth referred to as SAC because I don't need to name him) is an even older story. It's actually from half a lifetime ago (literally I was 16). On my 16th birthday I somehow ended up in the role of telling the boy I liked that his friend had died. I knew the boy who had died, we were not close but I knew him. However at 16 I was already familiar with loss. by that time I had been to the funerals of 3 of my grandparents, an uncle, my dad's cousin, and had at least two other people in my life not die but be taken away in an instant.
I wanted answers, and I spent most of the day walking around my town looking for them wherever I could, because to me this death and loss thing was just getting ridiculous, and I was hurt and a little angry. (it is worth noting I was probably wearing my dead uncle's army Jacket as I started wearing it somewhere around age 13 and wore it when weather appropriate pretty much all through college.) Somewhere in my wandering I returned home and found the foreign exchange student who was stying with us hanging out with SAC in the basement of our house. I figure it's entirely possible they had been making out before they heard me coming down, but they were both polite and listened to my concerns and quest for answers. SAC told me about how the year before on his 15th birthday his friend had killed himself, and how upset he had been and how he hated his birthday because of it. I listened, and when we finished the conversation I continued my wandering looking for answers, but that conversation stuck with me.
That boy's birthday was 3 weeks after mine. I don't remember if it started that year, or with his 17th birthday, but every year for at least 5 I would write him long letters for his birthday. I would usually start shortly after mine.

I considered that boy a friend for many years. I considered him a friend long after he stopped acting like one, but recently I started to realize how badly he has treated other people who would have considered him a friend as well, and that was how he got the SAC label.
He was unable to respond in caring to people who had repeatedly reached out to him, which meant he stopped deserving my friendship, but the poem came about when a mutual friend of ours was hurting in response to major life event and trying to reclaim her right to be happy, and his response to something she had written was a philosophical point about how no one deserves happiness, and saying that one did was like saying that everyone deserves a mansion.

When I stopped being friends with him I was angry for a while about all of that time and effort I put into those letters, and the effort I put into trying to be friends with him, but as it got closer to my birthday I started to realize I did it as an affirmation of life for myself. I wanted so bad to love life that I was going to in defiance of anything standing in my way. And I wanted to give that away to as many people as I could. I hated that he became one of the things standing in my way.

This year I was really trying to get rid of some of those old triggers, and speed up the half lives on the emotional nuclear waste that I have. It's amazing how some open air on some of those old hurts can speed up healing processes, but it's not pretty. I spent a good portion of the last three hours of my birthday on the phone with my friend Kelly and her boyfriend ranting and raving about something I was upset about, knowing damn well that it was the polarizing effect of my birthday.
Because on my birthday I have to think about my life. Most days I just do it. I live as best I can in a way that will make the world around me the place I want it to be. I take enough care of myself so that I can keep at it, and I'm aiming to get about 120 years, but will be happy to get 80some. There is part of me that knows I probably won't see the things i want happen in the world, but I can do a hell of a lot in the meantime to make things a little better for myself and those around me.
And it's funny because the partying was great, but it wasn't the partying that quite gives me that affirmation of life, it was the stories, and the hugs from people who have been in my life and know me, and the happy birthday wishes from the people who couldn't be there, but I know if I read them this post would get it and say "Yeah Liz I know."
I've never hated my birthday, but it often makes me want to cry. I love my life, and I try and accept that it's enough. I do alright with that most days. It's just around my birthday I feel like I need to think about my year, and my life as a whole, and the fact that there is still more to come, and I'm going to keep at it, and in some cases saying bring it on. Even though I know there will still be times when I will be hurt and angry again in the coming year, I will still be here trying to make the world better for as many people as I can (and probably still get in situations that are more than I can handle trying to help more than I can) for the next year, and sometimes that's a little overwhelming.
Anyways thanks for reading this.

The end of April 2010 (Worcester, MA & Amsterdam, NY)

So April kept running at a busy pace after my perfect day. The next weekend involved lots of busy. There was a show that I went to with one of my new friends, and hung out for the first time with people who became more of my friends. My friend Lindsey inspired the line in the perfect days poem "when we learn to wait in anticipation for a delicious future" because for some reason up until that night we couldn't get together again to see one another, something always came up.
Lindsey was there for Shane's part of the show, and then Kelly was there for the second. Also I think the first time I spent any time hanging out with Dave and Greg. Dave and Greg are both musicians. Greg plays in a band called Nemes, but he also plays what I call sad Greg songs under "speaker for the dead" I know that term because I've read a lot of sci fi, and I asked him if it came from that. He told me why he named his band that, and it's a worthwile story, but you should e-mail him and ask if you want to know. http://www.speakerforthedead.tk or look up speaker for the dead on facebook.
Dave I had met and seen play before that night, but had only talked a little bit at the Dirty Gerund before that night, mostly to say a more elaborate version of "hey Liz I like your poem" & "hey Dave I like your song"
The song I like is really good though. I had told him it should be on the radio. You can judge for yourself.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zBAYWrSa8T0&p=F94901942EC6CC75&playnext=1&index=7
His other stuff is good too, but that's my favorite. He has a website too. http://www.davemagario.tk
That night we discussed cartoons and pop culture. It was fun.
Anyways from there I went home to get my tattoo. I took the train because things in my car had broken to the point where the cost to repair it was more than it was worth, so I sold it cheap to someone who just needed to get through another year while saving a new one, and I went to my hometown to pick up a car.

Now the train ride was pretty interesting. I didn't have a ticket right away, so i ended up getting one cheaper in Springfield just because they changed me the springfield price. I also learned that I could take the train from Worcester to Chicago if I wanted sometime. I may have to. It would be nice to go to Chicago and not have to drive.

Then I met Bill and his co-worker.

BillCo-worker. I forgot the co-worker's name, but not Bill, because he told me about meeting Joel Grey on the train, while he was on his way to Ohio to do a show of either Cabaret or Chicago. I can't remember which one. If you don't know who Joel Grey is he is a Broadway star, and father of Jennifer Grey the girl from dirty dancing.
I thought this was a cool story for a train ride.
My dad picked me up at the train station.
we got pizza and went back to visit my mom.
I actually got a pic of the mandala I had drawn them last Christmas.
My mom loved it because it was one of the first ones where I had colored in the whole page. You can barely see because of the picture color, but it is colored. all the way out.

I had a stop to make. I had written one of my old friends into one of my poems, and had to go read it to her in person. This is Sandy.
We used to do gymnastics together as little girls, and we were friends for various years growing up. She was my best friend at certain points in time, and a really good friend to have whenever.
We hadn't talked too much at length before I stopped by, but she would bump into my parents and chat a bit. She got married to a boy Chele and I used to watch swim in high school.
He wouldn't let me take his picture, but I got a picture of his spiderman pajamas.
I made Sandy a tour poster.
with gymnasts and basketballs, volleyballs, and other things. She said she wanted to see Boston and I offered both her a spot on a futon or air mattress in my little living room if they want any time she can give notice. I hope she comes sometime.

The next day my parents went to church or off somewhere, and I went to visit the Meineckes, and see how preperations for James' wedding was going.
according to his mom it was busy but a work in progress
she still was able to smile.
I also got a peak at the kayak Mr. Meinecke was making.
Mrs. Meinecke upon hearing about my tattoo adventure plans wanted to go with me, but I had some misinformation about where my tattoo artist was working, so she didn't get to. Instead Rachel stopped by. Rachel is James' sister
We went to my house to track down my tattoo artist by phone and talk about all sorts of things. :-). My parents were back so we had food with them and played dominoes while we waited for my appointment
because dominoes is what you play with parents.
My tattoo artist was also someone I wrote into my poem. I've known him since i was 13. His partner at the time was pregnant, and he's trying to save up to get his own shop. I figured for my first tattoo it would be nice if it was someone i knew and could trust a decent amount.
Cich did a good job, and if he gets his own place I will post a link. this was done at his house though, so find Jon Cichy on facebook if you live near Amsterdam Ny

He did a nice job. It says just breathe. A good reminder.
It didn't hurt too bad. It was kind of a test tattoo for a big one I want to get. But that will require more time, and I'll probably go with a local artist because I don't have the time to go back repeatedly to home, and won't want to travel after getting that much work.
It was an interesting homecoming, and I was glad the people I wrote into my poetry appreciated it.

Perfect days. April 18th 2010

So this is my second perfect day. On a perfect day for me everything just flows and goes the way it should, and even if it isn't the way I think it's supposed to be, I sort of know it is right and it is exactly what supposed to happen. It's not always perfectly good, but it's right, and just perfect in the universe that things that need to occur.
Anyway April 18th was the second one, and I wrote the poem about the first two.
I am counting perfect days
One…Two

Breathing deep in the gifts they have given
Where I hold you
When you are hurt and angry
Only realizing later
That I might have played a part in you feeling that way.

Where I wear my favorite skirt
and feel dust and dirt blow against it while walking.
Where cars stop to collect lost children
only to deposit them safely where they belong
Where I have a place to rest until it is time to move on
Where we sit with the bodhisattva
and thank him as he listens to our trials

Where I notice someone’s absence from a circle
and later the group talks of their impending loss
Where I am a mess and am told
“you are at home here”
Where I wrap my arms tightly around you
after you let my heart flow
Where we speak truth even though it may not always feel kind

Where I lay on my belly and listen to your stories.
Where you hug me and we’re okay no matter what others think
Where we have dinner together
and you smile that wonderful smile
Where I speak and twirl, and love and share
Where gongs punctuate well spoken statements
Where strawberries fall into my hands.

Where I ask a schizophrenic man for help
and in turn learn how to cook a new dish
Where plans are made for needs to be tended to.

And then when I walk away, partway through a meal
because I life is pressing,
When you accept that and still wish me well.
When you are there in the background
with a beauty that I have yet to fully discover
When I begin to clear away the mess that has been created
And when we learn to wait in anticipation for a delicious future
I am counting on perfect days
One…. Two

Early April and A Kat visit April1st-17th,2010 (Central Mass.)

I have a poem that is titled "April runs like a marathon". I think it needs editing otherwise I would post it here.
It was inspired by my April. I did so much stuff it wasn't even funny.
The biggest thing was finishing everything I needed to to graduate with my CAGS. On top of that I wrote a whole bunch of poems, got a new boss, had a perfect day, started piano lessons, got my first tattoo, etc. It's going to take more than one blog post, but lets get started on the 1st 17 days of April.
There was the Gonzo cookoff. I made a drop kicked Irish breakfast complete with Irish coffee. It was fun and nice
(Alana photo)
We were just hanging out in the hall afterward when Jess snapped this shot.
Then there was a Kat visit. Kat is one of the girls I used to knit with before she got her Phd and went to england to study viruses there.


I'm going to feel dumb if I get this wrong, but I think it was Melissa's birthday around this time too. SO we all went to the butterfly place together. I just remember I hadn't gotten enough sleep the night before because I was finishing a paper for my last college course. So i laid down on the bench and made friends with butterflies.
(it's not a hat it's a butterfly)
Also in honor of Kat's visit there was a madmen themed party at the greyhound pub where everyone dressed 60's style.
The guest of Honor Kat with Toph
Jenny came from Boston, because how often do you get to go to madmen parties?


For the most part the cigarettes were candy/gum. Anything in the bar was because of Mass law60's stylin
Crystal was having a good time.
This is my friend Miss Jess the whiskey witch. You can look her up on youtube and learn a thing or two about whiskey.

Chad and Melissa posing on the Kelley Square sidewalks.
There were dirty jokes told, and I got boxing lessons at one point during the night. but I don't think I look like a girl you want to mess with in this shot.
There were also a mass of rugby players who came in at one point and we partied with them too. Apparently later somebody went fake bull riding, but I missed that part of the night.

The Whirlwind of interesting (Worcester, MA & ghent, NY) March 2010 (with a little bit of February)

Dear March,
Thank you for the winds of change. I still don't quite understand how it happened, but that's okay, i like it better than the gap.
Much love,
Liz

So technically things started to get interesting in February. February was the first Gonzo cookoff I entered. Dr. Gonzo is a friend of mine who makes uncommon condiments.
You should totally check it out, and if you like tasty spicy things you should get some. My mom, who does not like spicy things likes the blackfly mustard on hot dogs.
http://www.drgonzos.com/
It was the snowshoe roadkill challenge and I made kamikaze turkey sliders with kamikaze drinks.

There is a lot to these competitions, and I have learned that it is best to go in with help. Chad was somewhere around there passing out food for me most of the day. It was lots of fun. (photo by Chris Robarge)

It was also where I met Alana.
(technically this photo is from a later gonzo event, but whatever, it's a good photo)
So I'm probably going to try to be good about crediting her and other people for the photos. Alana is a photographer and she took a ton of photos of me between March and June
Here's her website. http://www.alanamelanson.com/
Here's a secret, I don't always like having my picture taken, some times I hate it. I don't mind goofy pictures like the one by the grill where I'm doing like 5 things at once, but other pictures take some time to get used to.
But then again as March went on I was hanging out at Gonzos, and hanging out other places where she was one of the people taking pictures, and being in places where my picture could get taken so I kind of had to get used to it, and just kind of accept myself in pictures.
Alana made it easier, because she would get ones that I would look at and go "yeah that looks like me." And I like me as a person, so it got easier to just accept the pictures.

Anyways Alana is also partially responsible for me going to the Dirty Gerund in the first place.
The Dirty Gerund is a poetry show with music and snacks and ruckus held in a bar called Ralph's diner.
www.dirtygerund.com
I used to go to poetry open mics at the poets asylum when they were held at the java hut when I first moved to Worcester about 7-8 years ago. I hadn't gone to poetry stuff in like 5-6 years, but back then there were three people's stuff I almost always liked Alex Charalambides, and Bobby Gibbs, and a dude named Jon Wolf who used to host it. (not that there weren't lots of good poets, and lots of people's stuff I liked regularly, but those three stood out) So when Alana invited me, and I saw that Alex was hosting with Nick (who I remember meeting at the Java hut when he was just out of high school and just starting to come around with his stuff) I figured it be worth checking out.

I think March first was the first one I went to. It was fun and they had snacks which makes everything better. Sometime that week I got possessed by a poem. It pretty much wrote itself in my head on the way home from a class, and I decided I was going to read in the open mic at the next one. and of course Alana was taking pictures.

My hand with the book in it shook, and I was really quiet on the mic, but I had a good time, and Jon Wolf was the feature, so it was good. I don't remember if it was that night or later ones that I would sit next to Bobby in the back so i could just listen.

I think I got addicted after that. I wanted to do better. Shortly after that was when I wrote my voice is not for microphones, so that i could stop being so shaky and scared on the mic.

Also during March Dr. Gonzo himself kept telling me to write a Sea Shanty, and come perform it at his songwriters challenge night. I had only been to the first one in September when almost no one knew about it, and came up with a little ditty about fall. This is why Stu knew I could do it, and he kept bugging me until I did. He helped me with accompaniment, and I had fun, but I didn't realize there would be like 8 people many of whom perform regularly bringing their songs. Mine was just kind of a story with a tune,

Tis a sailor’s tale he told to me

And it took him all night long

A story of days on the sea

And the call of the siren’s song

Come come drink with me Come

Drink in the night drink in desire

Drink though the moonrise and the tides

And I’ll set you free.

On his ship he heard the calling

he and all his mates

Under the spell they’re falling

Into the hand of the fates

DRINK (chorus)

While drinking in he kept his head

So he never got so drunk

Never laid him down to bed

But he watched as his mates were sunk

DRINK

The siren was true to her word

As soon as the tide went out

Her music he no longer heard

On a beach he lay about

DRINK

The siren’s song rang in his heart

Like a record that did skip

He knew that if he played his part

He’d return for another trip

DRINK

He took his ship back to the place

Of the siren’s song of lore

But then the words changed for our ace

A dance’s what’s she’s asking for

DANCE (chorus with dance instead of drink)

Our hero first he felt alarm

But was nimble on his feet

And as he spun her in his arms

Their dance now it was sweet

DANCE

Next morn he felt the beaches sand

And saw the swimming fish

Missing the touch of her hand

A return to her he did wish.

DANCE

He sailed out for the third time

With memories of her breath.

He shouted out above her rhyme

Without you I’d rather death.

DANCE

The sirens song changed it’s word

In what she was asking for

He knew that he’d do what he heard

And they’d be forever more

Come come make love to me come

Love in the night love in desire

Love through the moonrise and the tides

And we’ll both be free

Our hero ceased to tell the tale

Then spoke the lass at his side

He took from me my lonely wail

And made of me his bride

DRINK

SO men out there who’d be so bold

To try to tame a siren

It just might be you get to hold

But you never know quite when

DRINK

I like the words, but I tried to get the crowd going because the last time I sung in public I'm guessing was in college, and probably involved a chorus. It was fun though. I was supposed to go last, but got out of that because i told Dr Gonzo I couldn't sing in a corset and I had brought my corset.

The above pic is from Thomas Caywood, the rest are from my cameraThis is Dr. gonzo doing his song. I like this pic because you can see the hot topless peppers sign in the background.
My friend Mike switched me so he could go last
There was a jam session afterward. In the middle of that picture is my friend Shane. He wrote a Sea Shanty too.
At the time Shane's band was the backing band for the Dirty Gerund and even outside of that in the past 6 months I've seen him play a ridiculous amount of times in various styles of music. I only have pictures of some and will only list ones that are pertinent to story telling, but since this is the first time I'm posting his picture I'll put his website in here http://www.ticklebombmusic.com/tickle/.
And here is the corset as promised. Stu kept saying I was supposed to have an eye patch, but i think he looked better in it.
The next night I ended up going to visit my parents. I don't remember why, but I do remember visiting my friend Corinne and her dad at their farm in Ghent NY.
Corinne had just gotten two horses. This is one of them.
She also had booked her dad a massage, because he had been doing farm stuff.
They are growing lots of garlic, and at the time she had tons of other seedlings inside.
However if you ever go to Corrine's farm you have to be prepared for the craziness that is Meatball.
Meatball does not bite, but barks his fool head off until you come over and can play fetch for days.
The farm is huge and very peaceful (except for Meatball)
Because it was my first visit I made Corinne a tour poster, even though i didn't stay.
I headed back home because there was a benefit concert for the Q coffeeshop/arts corporation that was trying to get a larger location, and a number of local bands were playing. Alana had been a regular at the Q and so she got me to go to a bunch of Q events at that point. This becomes important later, because there were a lot of people I met in passing or saw play that I got to know more later.
However the Q is still doing their arts thing, so they get a shout out too, since it was because of them i met all these people, even if I came at the tail end of that incarnation.
http://theq.bbnow.org/about.php
At one point I had pictures from the last day at the Q, but i think those got eaten when my camera switched over. Besides this is a long enough post for March don't you think?

Mind the Gap (Liz along the way)

So around September/October in New england, life gets a little dark. Literally for all of us, and for me in 2009 I hit a dark patch. Not that I was just sitting around doing nothing, or even feeling especially down or depressed. What was happening was a whole lot of not knowing. I wasn't really knowing what i was doing and the how my life was going. There are times when not knowing feels comfortable because I am either in the flow and there are times when I am in the waiting where I can relax into that, and then there is a restlessness that happens from time to time when things get frustrating. I had written in August about how I felt like I had gone from juggling things in my life to having them orbit, but when things orbit there is a lot more space, and sometimes space is dark and it can feel empty. There were pinpricks of light, but it didn't give me understanding. This was a waiting in the darkness. (hence the Mind the Gap title)

My facebook status from 10/25/09, pretty well describes much of October-early Feburary 2010., because I didn't know what was going to come next, or how it would fit together.

Liz Swenson feels as thought the center of her life has slipped into darkness, but I've done enough theater to know that in that dark time people and forces can work with an uncanny precision to prepare things and set the stage for what wonders are to come.

It was pretty much true.

During November I just spent time being grateful for whatever i could find to be grateful for, and I tried to stay positive. I got disengaged somewhat from my job, Initially I worried about burnout, but it changed somewhere in there into something else. In some ways is good, because I can overfocus on work or work things sometimes, and it was nice to be able to care and be present for people, but set better boundaries as to how much effort I would put in when others were not or when I was feeling depleted.
There was my internship for my CAGS for school going on, and paperwork, and snow, and knitting, and many many other everyday things.
December was quiet. I got sick right before Christmas, but I jsut rested and took things easy. The best part of the Christmas holiday for me was seeing the musical Wicked with my parents. Again there was quiet.
Around new years I decided my resolution would be that in 2010 I deserved better. I don't like to think about or admit how hurt I was my friends bailing on me during my vegas trip, but around new years I realized I didn't want that kind of hurt again, and I wanted some better things for myself. I wasn't sure what, but better. I guess in some ways this kind of put me in the mindset for discovery, but it took until late February/ Early March to make that happen.
January was again quiet. I went to Arisia briefly but did not attend the party my friends from VT hold every year, instead just driving up for the day with noodles and keilbasa and watching movies.
I cooked, because it's what I do in winter. I took steps back from the things I care about, not because I wanted to stop caring about them, but because I needed to let them be, and see how they would turn out. Sometimes things need space to grow in different ways. It's weird to think of this happening in winter, but it was what my winter was about.
In february I got a stomach bug right before superbowl sunday, and had to stay home and take care of myself. I have a friend who says when you are sick you are transforming. It's weird, but even looking at my facebook statuses shortly superbowl sunday the energy I have in those statuses started to change.
It was like after a small biologically imposed fast I was ready to start again, and start to take on life.
February was still pretty quiet, but it was like quietly gradually moving into a place where there are all sorts of possibilities.
Then came March.

October 2009 Rhinebeck,NY Sheep and Wool festival, and Pumpkin carving & Halloween

So knitters like sheep and wool festivals. Apparently it is where all the good yarn is. My knitting girls took me to Rhinebeck for this, and I got to see good yarn, wool, sheep
alpacas
angora rabbits
and llamas.
I had great day with Kelly and Melissa and Kelly's friend Jenny. we got the yarn we wanted saw cute animals, and chatted and laughed like we usually do. I got Sock yarn. I like making socks.

they also had a carved pumpkin display and of course I found one with a sunflower carved in.

Later in the month Kelly had me over for our own carving with her brother Brad. Kelly's pumpkin

my pumpkin Vlad
I didn't do much for Halloween, and I only had one trick or treater, but he was definitely worth it. Babybear in babybear costume.