rabbit, rabbit, rabbit!

This hasn’t been my happiest month, but project good deed has served me well. This blog has officially kept my mind off of ExBoyfriend and depressing thoughts. Most of the time. Very good indeed.

I have a skeletal idea of what I want to do next… but as I did last month, I’m opening it up to all of you!

Here are my thoughts:

Every day I add to the daunting sheaf of pages I call my “idea pad”. Last night I was flipping through it and I realized that most of the “ideas” aren’t my own, they are from other people – from the blogs I read, the comments I get, the people I talk to – etc.

So every post this month has been about me, and what I’m doing. I want every post in May to be about all of you!

I’m going to call this project, The Ones I Love.

More tomorrow. Tonight I am going to make lists....!

Final good deed: to volunteer at the L House once a month. It's a recovery home for homeless women. 10! 

29th kindness: almost done!

One the my fellow bloggers, a woman who writes words I love, recently commented on Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Read her post here:

Sizzle Says, Part of the Solution

Even as women, we act as girls.

Exhibit One: Popular songs titles.
Girls just want to have fun. Boys don’t cry.

Exhibit Two: Expressions.
You throw like a girl. Don’t be a girl about it. Man up.

I could go on, but I won't.

Even later in life, past the age of dolls and ponies, women are taught to be girls. If we don’t fall into specific roles – assigned early on – then we are … the b word, the c word, the w word, and the s word. We are met with ridicule, disapproval, scorn… even disgust.

Good girls are:
- polite

- smiling

- soft spoken

- cardigan and skirt wearing
- compliant

- trophy wives

- living in orange county

- relationship/ family oriented
- sugar and spice, and everything nice

When a guy pursues you with aggression he is "driven" – when a girl does, she’s a psycho stalker. I heard this at a very young age – never call a boy, never be easy, always play hard to get. And I listened!!

Case and point: current situation with my ex-boyfriend. He still has my keys, and my sneakers, and I need them back - so I have been trying to get a hold of him... and nothing!!! he won't answer my calls, if he responds to my texts it's with a measly one word answer "huh" and "no" and if i'm lucky, "call you in 5" - needless to say, he doesn't call in five. he doesn't call in ten. he doesn't call in f-ing 24, 36, 72 hours.

I feel like a crazy person!! I don't want to lose myself in this web of mind games. The funny part? Most likely he doesn't even realize it - I feel like I'm five again, talking to my imaginary friend.

I am shy about asking for what I need - my keys, my shoes, my sanity - because I feel aggressive and out of my element. I know how to get the boy - I flutter my eyelashes, laugh a lot, and never make the phone call or the "let's hang out" suggestion. My success with men, sad to say, is contingent on acting like a “girl”.

When I was in seventh grade my boyfriend called me an “Estella” – we were reading Great Expectations at the time. I think this is one of my most fitting insults. Once I bait them I throw them back. And if I do hold onto them, eventually a time comes when I get irritable-restless-discontent, in FEAR, and I push them away - by making their lives hell.

How much of this ability to “attract” stems from fear? From loneliness? Fear of rejection, or worse, fear of loving and not being loved in return?

It’s easier to just “be a girl”. You are taken care of, you are spoiled, you are “provided for”.

BUT. I don’t want to lead a limited life. Twenty years from now I don’t want to bored, sitting around the house in curlers, ironing my husband’s wool socks for the 6,000th time. If this is my fate, twenty one years from now I’ll wake up in the bottle.

So I shyly, and humbly, am embarking on a – hopefully – different life.

And f*ck, if I have to go on ONE MORE BAD DATE, I might become a lesbian.

Seriously.

I just want to be myself and say things like:

aaron: hi, robin?

me: hi!

aaron: hi.

me: hi.

bla bla bla

aaron: it's hot, isn't it? i think it was ninety something today

me: yeah i stuck my head in the freezer like ten times this weekend

aaron: what?

me: then i let sam have a go

aaron: oh

me: oh.

aaron: oh.

poor aaron. probably thinking, what a psycho that girl was...

good deed yesterday and today: helping a friend in need. and letting another friend use my car so she can make an early class.

Q

i'm a woman, hear me purr - kindness #27&28

25th kindness & insanity

24th kindness: starbucks

good deed: tipping $10 at Starbucks. two of my old coworkers were at the register. 

wallace stevens once said that poetry is the "supreme fiction." he was the critic's poet- a class can spend hours analyzing his work. a business man with an ordinary, albeit successful, career, he insisted on turning to the "necessary arts" for a "freshening of life." 

i agree, mr. stevens. or should i say wallace? wally? 

this is one of my favorite poems - it's about youth, and possible rape, music and beauty. reminds me of my first journal-snippet from 1998. 

Peter Quince at the Clavier 

I

JUST as my fingers on these keys
Make music, so the self-same sounds
On my spirit make a music too.

Music is feeling then, not sound;
And thus it is that what I feel, 
Here in this room, desiring you,

Thinking of your blue-shadowed silk,
Is music. It is like the strain
Waked in the elders by Susanna:

Of a green evening, clear and warm, 
She bathed in her still garden, while
The red-eyed elders, watching, felt

The basses of their being throb
In witching chords, and their thin blood
Pulse pizzicati of Hosanna. 

II
In the green water, clear and warm,
Susanna lay.
She searched
The touch of springs,
And found 
Concealed imaginings.
She sighed
For so much melody.

Upon the bank she stood
In the cool 
Of spent emotions.
She felt, among the leaves,
The dew
Of old devotions.

She walked upon the grass, 
Still quavering.
The winds were like her maids,
On timid feet,
Fetching her woven scarves,
Yet wavering. 

A breath upon her hand
Muted the night.
She turned—
A cymbal crashed,
And roaring horns. 

III
Soon, with a noise like tambourines,
Came her attendant Byzantines.

They wondered why Susanna cried
Against the elders by her side:

And as they whispered, the refrain 
Was like a willow swept by rain.

Anon, their lamps’ uplifted flame
Revealed Susanna and her shame.

And then the simpering Byzantines,
Fled, with a noise like tambourines. 

IV
Beauty is momentary in the mind—
The fitful tracing of a portal;
But in the flesh it is immortal.

The body dies; the body’s beauty lives.
So evenings die, in their green going, 
A wave, interminably flowing.
So gardens die, their meek breath scenting
The cowl of Winter, done repenting.
So maidens die, to the auroral
Celebration of a maiden’s choral. 

Susanna’s music touched the bawdy strings
Of those white elders; but, escaping,
Left only Death’s ironic scraping.
Now, in its immortality, it plays
On the clear viol of her memory, 
And makes a constant sacrament of praise.

22nd kindness: planting a tree

so i planted one of my house plants (a small tree) at the backbay today. probably broke some hyper-anal orange county law, but hey! it's earth day! had to do it. 

also... went on my first official "date" as a single girl. it was strange. realized i am not ready to date - especially go on a BLIND date, for the love of god, no. no, no, no. i am too critical, too cynical, and too closed at the moment to really give anyone a chance. i am deep in the missing my smart, funny, and kind ex-boyfriend mode... sigh. 

i want to be alone for awhile. it's what i need. and what i want - most of the time. 

more coherent thoughts and less rambling tomorrow, i promise, and for now a little fun in the sun from the desert. 

 

yeehaw! and 21st kindness

amigos 

desert flower 

another desert flower

hecho en mexico 

waiting for the meeting to start 

some pics for now... i'm off to snooze with my sampson-head. i've missed him. 

21st kindness: giving sampson a big bowl of peanut butter. warms my heart :)

 

19th kindness, 20th kindness, ball blastin' fun

20th kindness: told "compass," our horseback riding guide, that she did a great job. in reality, she was a bitch with a 'tude who made me feel like a no good city slicker.

(how is that for westernspeak)

19th kindness: shared my bulk candy with my best friend

more on the arizona adventure tomorrow - but one funny thing, we were watching children at the water park, and omar took this pic on his iphone -

accompanying quote:

"what are you scared of? that he's going to blast his little balls? ....... fing creep."

18th kindness: happy, happy girl

The Red Wheelbarrow
William Carlos Williams

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow

glazed with rain
water

beside the white
chickens.

robin's good deed today: making omar laugh about kids in the fountain. oh, and being EXTRA nice to the airport employees - two even commented on my good attitude! yes!

17th kindness: planting nice notes and a lil' history of photography - early 20th century

my best effort to capture what pictorialist photography was like...

a real pictorialist!! heinrich kuhn. see how this resembles a painting?

how do i move through the world? reading and researching. blame my private school education, blame my bookworm mother, blame my extremely inquisitive sisters - just don't blame me for being a nerd.

so, the subject on the brain today: photography.

A very strange art, concerning discovery and innovation. Light and shadow. Man, machine, and image.

Imagine the world when photography exploded into a fad. Can you imagine how jarring realistic images must have been? People didn’t know how to read photographs– they read them like paintings. Photography “exhibits” displayed small, framed prints thrown onto large walls. Instead of one or two prints per wall, there were tons of them, floor to ceiling – the “good” photographers aimed for viewer’s eyeline.

this is what pictorialism was all about. trying to assuage the stark exactness and details of photographic representation. even tones, selective focus, bland images - boring colors. etc. (ok, so it isn't my style)

I ask questions about photography, and the questions lead to more questions.

For example:

How does one classify photography? A means of mass communication, a mechanic process, an artistic process, a scientific process... One of the very few arts that can claim objectivity. This must have pissed all those highly subjective impressionists OFF. Freedom from the artist – it’s about the machine and the process.

So wtf? Is it a form of information or artistic expression?

Only in the second quarter of the twentieth century was the medium considered study-able. Nobody recorded the history of photography until the 1930’s. In the early 1900’s absolutely no museums had photography sections. Now, most of them do.

The layman’s art – anyone can do it! Grab a Kodak, a snapshot camera, and make a moment. Joe Blow is the next Da Vinci –

This must have INFURIATED artists who spent years and years honing their artistic skill.

Anyway, a little food for thought. Above is one of my favorite pictorialists and probably the raciest image i could find. look at that bod! hot.

good deed today: slipping nice notes into random books at the library. 5.

16th kindness: money bags and neurosis

an image to keep me calm

recently some girl friends from way back - i'm talking high school- have resurfaced.

...and i'm not sure how comfortable i am rebuilding bridges.

i grew up (part of the time) in palm beach county, florida - toxic people aplenty. land of the botox beauty and the silicon snake. shiny people with big hair and small hearts whose friendships felt more like death sentences. **

... or was that my hold on myself? did i create the drama in my head?

am i absolutely insane for resenting people from that long ago?

how do you handle past demons? slap a halo on their heads and forgive and forget? or slam that door and keep it locked?

help!

good deed today: donating money to the newport club.

** there are many people who do not fall under this category. the cowie clan, the larkins, the mottas, the parkers, the hickels (aha), our neighbors with the yapster dog - just to name a few.

15th kindness: surf and sand

One Heart
By Franz Wright

It is late afternoon and I have just returned from

the longer version of my walk nobody knows

about. For the first time in nearly a month, and

everything changed. It is the end of March, once

more I have lived. This morning a young woman

described what it’s like shooting coke with a baby
in your arms. The astonishing windy and altering light

and clouds and water were, at certain moments,
You.

There is only one heart in my body, have mercy on me.

The brown leaves buried all winter creatureless feet
running over dead grass beginning to green, the first scent-
less violet here and there, returned, the first star noticed all
at once as one stands staring into the black water.

Thank You for letting me live for a little as one of the

sane; thank You for letting me know what this is
like.
Thank You for letting me look at your frightening

blue sky without fear, and your terrible world without

terror, and your loveless psychotic and hopelessly

lost

     with this love

today's kindness: walk on the beach and picking up litter. 5.  

this is a poem i return to often - especially the last stanza. given the last few day's events, i thought it would be appropriate to share. 

14th kindness: a memorial for Jenny S.

fresh cut flowers

weekend round up

12th kindness: donating blood to unknown recipients / 8 (I passed out)

13th kindness: buying a birthday present i can't afford for a friend i really love/ 5 (it's my duty!)


explanation: 

I think I post too often. I'm going to skip the weekends from now on... don't want to bore you readers! plus blogger isn't working, and won't let me upload pics. infuriating! time to call on my destroyer!

results

I took the test. Here are my results:

Your PMAI Scores:
Lover - 28
Creator - 25
Magician - 25
Ruler - 24
Sage - 23
Jester - 23
Destroyer - 22
Warrior - 22
Caregiver - 22
Seeker - 22
Innocent - 20
Orphan - 13

I am a lover/ creator/ magician – these are the roles I play most of the time.

These archetypes are available to me, but do not determine how I view the world: Ruler/ Sage/ Jester/ Destroyer/ Warrior/ Caregiver/ Seeker/ Innocent.

I do not call on the Orphan often, and have trouble understanding why people play this role.

Lover:
I assume that love is the answer. I am sensuous, alive, vital, and full of love for others and for life. I see others as peers, not people in need of help.

Creator:
I assume what can be imagined can be created.

Magician:
I assume that perception defines reality.

fitting for someone with a disease of perception, eh?

I DON’T understand the Orphan: someone who “assumes that it pays to be careful”. Someone who uses realism and logic to combat day to day problems...

….psh! This is so not my proverbial cup-o-tea. I tend to play with fire until the point of third degree burns. I guess I could learn from annies.

a thought: every boy I have ever dated fits this profile. opposites attract?

11th kindness: help from Jung & helping the young

balboa boardwalk.

some history 

We all have stories – we all have plots. I’m going to call your life your plot, and my life my plot. This is a change from my Wavy Gravy days – remember, friend? – when I called my reality my “movie” and your reality, your “movie”. **

** NOTE: This was also the time I lived on the beach with out air conditioning in the dead middle of Florida summer. Upwards of 100 degrees. I spent my days painting on walls and my nights skinny dipping in neighbor’s pools… need I say more? 

Carl Jung called the roles we play in our specific plots our “archetypes”. Father, mother, child, lover, sister, creator, warrior, caregiver, blogger, dog lover – whatever.

There are as many archetypes as there are “typical situations in life”. But we tend to use a select few – our “dominant archetypes”. Sometimes we screw up – we use the wrong archetypes in the wrong situations. Like trying to fit a round peg in a square hole, it just doesn’t fit. Jung said, "there is no lunacy people under the domination of an archetype will not fall a prey to" (Jung, 1959). Powerful stuff, huh? That Jung. Jokester. 

A woman I admire very much suggested I take this test, and I’m going to… but first I wanted to present a little background!

I know at least one of you – ahem, Cassandra – will want to take this with me.

good deed today: introducing myself to a newcomer (she is 15) and giving her my unlisted phone number. i just hope i can be an example - not a cautionary tale. 6. 

have a wonderful weekend, everyone! and thank you so much for your smart, thoughtful comments. they really make my day. even your's, my omy friend. 

10th kindness: tibet, roses, and proper chronological order :)

this picture is for wayfaring wanderer - i was so inspired by your beautiful photographs that i wanted to take a flower picture, too! roses. but what kind? 

my good deed: hooking up with amnesty international and demanding the release of 15 Tibetan monks. rating: 7. 

9th kindness: jackie don't read this

i hate writing "8th kindness" on the 9th of April. i like to be on schedule. so i shipped jackie her new yorkers today... kind to both of us! enjoy : ) 

8th kindness: i see said the blind man

i don't know if it's my sickbed stupor or my strange concoction of homeopathic meds... but I thought this would be a great kindness... you tell me, my healthy friends: crazy-scary or kind-whimsical ?

yesterday i went to my thai place and told them to make me the hottest thom-ka-gai possible. now, as many of you know, i'm not a spicy person - a tank top and sandals are required if i'm to eat even the mildest salsa - 

so i tried this coconut concoction... and couldn't taste a THING! but i could breathe through my nose for 10 minutes, and boy, was it worth it. 

SO - i bought a bag of fortune cookies (prewrapped) and on today's walk with Sampson (featured above) I placed each in mailboxes around the neighborhood.

ceiling in the bathroom. not related, but cool, eh?

i thought it might be a nice surprise for some of the local residents. sort of a tomorrow is a new day vibe... ? i give myself a 5 for venturing out of quarantine.

 

happy hump day!