January 4, 2000

"At Sea"

I'm Y2K ready with new deco! I'd played earlier with a stage curtain theme, but dumped it when I came up with the plate and fork idea. The plate and fork suggests an intimacy, an immediacy, whereas the curtains suggests an aloofness. When the audience sees a play on stage, yes, there's all these emotions portrayed, but not with any sense you can touch the players. That's not what I want here.

~ ~~ ~~~ ~~ ~

I'd no sooner typed those above words when Laura came back with Serena, and the three of us visited for a while. Nothing particularily unusual happened until I had an odd sensation at one point in the conversation. I had this really weird feeling that our house had suddenly turned into a boat, and we were at sea. I could almost feel the 'boat' moving through the ocean.

Later, I tried to capture the sensation in a poem:

Whither bound, this ship of fate? Are we just players in a play? All around us, Time stands still. It is we who move, on this ship of fate. Tall icy spires all around us, now. The ship moves slowly past them.

January 5, 2000

"Looking Better"

5:35pm - Laura glanced at the clock, and announced, "Four weeks as of this minute . . ." since Shayna met her end. How long will we be ticking chunks of evenly divisible time from that date? Nevertheless, we are healing. Things are looking better.

We came back from the lawyer's office with good news, as well. Helina can't all of a sudden claim the house. To do so, he would have to pay us 2/3 the value of the house. We'd rather pay him his 1/3 worth of the title and keep it ourselves. But in the letter that the lawyer will send him, we gave him both options. Either way, we will not be left destitute, which was our chief concern. We were advised to get a restraining order against him, so that he can't come after a drinking binge and cause trouble. We feel greatly relieved.

January 6, 2000

"I Shouldn't Have Eaten All That Chocolate"

2:23am - I'm restless, tossing and turning with strange muscle spasms. I know the cause of it, too. I filled a bowl yesterday afternoon rather mindlessly with semi-sweet dark chocolate chips. It was a big bowl. It was six inches in diameter and about two inches in depth. And it was full of those chips. I never had such a buzz like I had yesterday from emptying that bowl into my belly. For about twenty minutes afterwards, I was buzzing. And now I can't sleep.

2:33pm - Oh, I took four aspirin and two kava kava, and after twenty minutes in front of the computer, I felt the magnetic attraction of the bed. Now I've been sleepy all day. But I've been productive. Not much fun today, but I did get a lot of work done. Will I ever get started on those blue mattress covers that the guy only contracted with me months ago to do? Slacker is my middle name.

January 7, 2000

"Grumpy"

Yesterday was such a nothing kind of day. Yesterday's entry was such a nothing kind of entry. And what will today bring? It begins with cramps. That's a clue, right there. I don't think I'm one of those hideous bitches on PMS. My grumpiness is usually a small whiny thing. Nothing to frighten the dog and the neighbors. Laura and I are still together after nearly thirteen years. My PMS can't be too bad.

But I think I'll take today easy. Yes, those mattress covers will wait some more. Oh, and yes, I'll stay away from chocolate!

January 8, 2000

"A Bad Day Gets Better"

Yes, there was no doubting yesterday began badly. A beginning like that can stay with you the whole day. But it didn't. During the morning, I adjusted the Weighty Matters sections from December 3rd on, so I could print them out for my Mother. While one computer was kept busy doing that, I played a little Might and Magic VII on the other. Multi-tasking, that's me!

But it was the evening that was most memorable. We brought Serena up for the evening, and the four of us had an impromptu tea party. It was such a cozy, peaceful time. We each felt relaxed. No one hurried to speak, to fill the silence. It had been quite a while since any of us had such a mellow night.

January 9, 2000

"Buggy Eyed"

You wonder why such piddling nothing entries of late? It's not because I haven't been spending HOURS and HOURS at the computer. I just sent up 78 greatly revised files to Starnet, from the very first journal section to somewhere about this time last year. Slug that I am, I'm not going to even check them now. There could be a pile of errors. I've sat at this friggin' computer much too long. See you later.

January 10, 2000

"Plowing Through..."

I'm plowing through all the old files, snipping away bad art and lots of stolen pictures. Thievery is something if practiced at all, at least in small doses. Let's see, I've saved over 650KB of space at the azstarnet server already, and I'm only up to August 13, 1998. Although I've not done much editing of words, some passages struck me as AWFULLY pretentious. In the entry of February 20, 1998, I used this sentence: My heart speeds along on thin blade, as these skaters evidence their "essential puissance." I don't think I'm getting dumber as I'm getting older, but I had to ask Julia, (you know, super brain), what it meant. Maybe I was quoting some phrase in a news article. I couldn't let that one stand.

Bleah. So I'm slogging through. I'll have a leaner, meaner (in the nicest way, of course) website before too long. Oh, I have one cute pun to tell you. Julia usually comes up with awful ones, using the most arcane relevancies. But every once in a while, one amuses me. I was rejoicing over the large bottle of ginger ale I'd bought for only 99 cents. It happens to be of the CANADA DRY brand. She popped up with:

Drink Canada dry?
You won't succeed,
but it's fun to try.

It made me laugh.

January 12, 2000

"There Is Only Peace Here"

I'm making good progress on over a pound of french fries. That is my sole course for this late lunch. I tore open the small bag of fries and dumped its entire contents on the electric fry pan. Yes, all of it for piggy little me. Without the daily diet logs, I may be eating some worse. My weight stays about the same, though. Yes, despite entirely too much jelly beans and crackers and . . .

"I'm supposed to be LOSING weight?" Shh-h-h-h!

Enough of THAT sort of Weighty Matters. I rather prefer some weighty thoughts, instead. I subscribe to the Daily Enlightment, an e-mail list run by a Buddhist monastry in Singapore. Every couple of days, thought inspiring items fill my mail box.

Yesterday's featured an excerpt about the power of deep breathing. I can forget how relaxing this practice is.

EXCERPT: The Power of the Breath

Breath will cut through thinking because you have to let go to breathe.

The power of breath is beyond discrimination... The method in breath-counting is a way of occupying the mind so that the mind doesn't occupy you. Even when we say "1, 2, 3," the sequence is really just "1, 1, 1." It is not dependent on memory or consciousness. Even if it sounds linear, this repetition becomes mantric (like a mantra) and in this way releases the sequential mind.

Each time you exhale, the exhalation is Compassion. It is the breath of giving or letting go. The inhalation is recieving. It is like birth and death. Inhaling is being reborn. It is saying I am capable of taking in life.

-Jakusho Kwong, Zen in America

This brought to mind another favorite quote I'd saved on line, back in August of 1997. I find it very relaxing to take a deep breath whenever I think of it.

There Is Only Peace Here And what of the deep space, forever going on and on? With a breath, I can be there? Another breath, deep exhaling, I can float in my own space. I want to stay suspended here in this deep peace. Time is not here. Race is not here. I am bathing in oceans of me, and will not drown. I am bathing in oceans of all, and will not drown. I contain the All, the All contains me. Another breath, deep exhaling. There is only peace here. JAL, 1 - 12- 00

January 14, 2000

"Wasn't For Lack Of Effort"

Any more of these missed days, and I'll have to change my main index page where I promise readers daily entries. Again, it wasn't for lack of effort. I did finally get ALL ATTWT sections spruced up: all the poems are in proper shrink or expand to fit tables (I'd made them earlier so they only looked right with a 800x600 monitor with browser set to medium size text,) and all non K-worthy pictures have been removed from those pages. I saved roughly 800KB. There is no way I can ever compact my web creations into under 5 MB, but this periodic sprucing does help to sort out the wheat from the chaff.

And I did sit awhile with the 'Muse'. The results of the 'transmission' were rather indecipherable. But I'll put them here in case they have some future meaning. I did spend some time speculating on what THIS could mean:

Sixteen times on the full moon I called your name and still you have not answered. How have you not known? Still you do not know? If I stood outside the one perfect gate, you'll not hear . . . Fourteen years later, I am left with puzzles.

It's just too weird. It COULD just be mental garbage.

January 15, 2000

"Quiet Morning"

Saturday morning, 6:00am, and all is quiet except for some neighbor's dog barking faintly in the distance, and the sound effects from Laura's computer game. She's playing a Lara Croft game, and showed me all the nifty things that character can do. Laura can make her swim, climb ladders, leap across huge distances . . .

I am catching up on my online journal reads, savoring the treasures I find, like tasty chocolates, but with no side effects. It's the beginning of a three day weekend, and I'm not sure what all we will do. It's nice enough to just relax. One thing we have slated is trading in that stick shift car for an automatic we all can drive. Those 120 mile round trips to bring Julia to work and back are really wearing Laura out. I'd tried to learn that car, but after stalling in the middle of busy Pinal highway, with cars whizzing to and fro around me, I became too nervous. Now, I'm even more nervous, after Shayna's death. I don't want to join her as the result of more automobile stupidity. So the little blue Ford must go.

January 16, 2000

"Magic Is Afoot"

Now what determines a coincidence, and what determines the nimble hand of fate poking around in things? You can debate on that for hours. Even the mind of a skeptic can be tested by this question. We've had some 'coincidences' in our lives that have caused us to wonder.

After Christmas, when we said our last goodbyes to Shayna, while placing the heart wreath near the utility pole which Shayna's car hit, Laura had looked once again through all the glass bits and small plastic pieces of the car. There, among the litter, was something she'd not seen before. A new copper penny caught the rising sun and glinted brightly. Before Laura picked it up, she had a feeling it would be dated 1999. It was, and a sense of awe came over her. How many times in her life had she asked the Mystery, "If you really exist, make a penny appear!" Perhaps her hard skepticism was softening.

Some person, led by the quiet voice of guiding Essence, tossed a penny in the direction of the accident site, hoping to wish the survivors, and possibly the victim's soul, good luck. One small action warmed our hearts that much.

But as time went by, Laura thought possibly she'd over-reacted. The memory was set to rest quietly. Then came yesterday.

Julia's been pining for a real old fashioned rocking chair. She used to have one back in Baltimore, but gave it to a friend there when she moved to join us in Arizona. Laura decided yesterday would be the day they'd search for one. I was sick with sinuses and stayed home. The first destination, CostCo off of Elliot Rd., didn't have any. Across the street, there was a Krause's furniture store, and a J C Penney's. The furniture store was likely to be overpriced, so they gave the Penney's a chance.

When entering their home furnishing section, Julia saw a tall white three graces statue. The three graces have always meant a lot to us as the Triad. How entrancing it was, but it would never be something we could possibly afford. And, indeed, it had been originally $170 since it is a museum replica. However, it had had its price cut back several times and was now only $70. Neither Laura nor Julia could resist. It would be a lovely sight for my sore sinus aching eyes, as well.

a lovely sight . . .

There were no rocking chairs visibly on display, so Laura asked the clerk if they had any. He said the current stock was out, but they could special order one, and showed Laura and Julia the catalog. Only one was available. It was, however, exactly what she had envisioned, in dark wood and high back. The manufacturer had given this particular model a name, CATKIN. Catkin was the name Shayna had given to herself! What are the chances of that occurring? It's quite an odd nickname. Both Laura and Julia felt fairly spooked by now.

It wasn't until today that I found another piece of this mysterious puzzle. The penny was of significance, and what store did we find that rocking chair at?

Penney's. Magic is afoot.

January 17, 2000

"A Good Enough Beginning"

    

I am a female 5ft 3 1/2in tall, and weighing 187 pounds. That's obese by those medical charts. During the past year I've shared with you all some of the bodacious amounts of food I eat, in an attempt to get me to eat less. I started a year ago at 187 pounds, and by janjo, another year later, and I'm 187 pounds. Okay, the poundage went up and down a little. But mostly it stayed fairly steady for all that. Maybe I'm becoming at peace with that.

Am I just giving in? Of course, it would be healthier if I were 157 pounds. If I were 137 pounds, the doctors and weight counselors of the world would do a victory dance. If I were 117 pounds, my obsessively weight-conscious family would do a victory dance. Even my Mother has bought into that one. But, heck, she's thin. Five foot six and only 118 pounds, bony thin. Maybe, just like every other person who indulges in bad habits, I'm just rationalizing my way to peace of mind. The STRESS over worrying about my weight will be worse for my health than the actual blubber.

Yeah, that's possibly so.

And so I stuff dark chocolate covered peanut clusters, and dark chocolate covered almonds into me with no restraint. I eat, eat, and eat some more.

I hear of thin women going on diets. I see their photos. They're everywhere. Weight loss advertisements on TV, the pages of the Enquirer, the web . . . They have no thick necks, no jowls hanging under their chins. They're thin. But not thin enough for Hollywood.

And I just stuff some more chocolate covered almonds down the yap, and think, that's another world. I am in the world of the full-figured.

And yet, in other parts of the world, the thin-by-necessity would tell me, "Be glad you're wealthy enough to be overweight." There, fat carries a mystique about it. And in still more pockets of the world, scattered here and there, the thin-by-necessity would tell me "Be glad you're HEALTHY enough to be overweight."

I hear all their voices, too, and it puts things into perspective. And there's some more voices out there, too. There are people starving in the 'land of the plenty'. In the early seventies, my favorite singing group was the brother and sister duo called The Carpenter's. I had all their cassettes, all the songbooks. I loved her pure, clear warm alto, and that I could sing along easily with her low voice. By the eighties, my musical tastes had expanded a bit. But when I heard in 1983, Karen Carpenter had died as a result of anorexia, starving herself. I found I could no longer listen to her music, the music I'd so loved in my teens. It just called up too much anger at a society which causes this.

But's Karen's story is still on the distant, untouchable scale. Who gets to touch the lives of celebrities? These illnesses have come closer to us than that. Shayna, who we just lost recently, spent FIVE YEARS making a show of eating large amounts of food to everyone who saw her, and then later, throwing it all up. If anyone overheard her in the bathroom, she'd just excuse it by saying something didn't agree with her. She started the bulemia as a weight loss technique. She thought she could control it. She thought if she achieved this perfectly thin body, then happiness would be hers. She got thin, all right. When Serena, her mother, showed us old photo albums, Shayna had spindly thin little arms, so thin I could have broken them with my bare hands. That's with my bare, arthritic hands. At the end of her ordeal, she was left with 85 year old bones. All the calcium was leeched right out of them. It just wasn't her BONES that were damaged. Twice, her liver failed her. She was in a long coma. The doctors took her Mother aside, and prepared her for the 'end', asking what her wishes were. She nearly gave her life to be thin.

There's so many other young woman out there, like her. And even a few men buy into this. My idealistic anger in 1983 has given way to a disheartened sort of resignation. I don't know what can be done to stop it. I know we all can start by loving our bodies the way they are. All 187 pounds of me - yes, I'll claim all that soft, cushy padding and folds. I'll claim it all, not as an attempt to claim it that I might then upbraid it into thinness.

I'll claim it so that in just this one large corner of the world, there is a woman who does not hate her body.

Maybe, in this world filled with hate, that is a good enough beginning.