The Moving Gods are fickle and demanding things that follow more closely Douglas Adams' theory ("There is a theory which states that if ever anybody discovers exactly what the Universe is for and why it is here, it will instantly disappear and be replaced by something even more bizarre and inexplicable. There is another theory which states that this has already happened.") than the changeless nature of changeable things. You know you will sweat. You know something will be broken. You know that there is such a thing as things going too well. You know this.
But you have no idea how any of these things will manifest.
People whose moves are always easy are people that I cannot bring myself to trust; they do not move through the same dimension of this world that I do and are suspect. Usually I run into problems of time and space - needing more of the former and not quite enough of the latter. I start packing too late and do not enlist enough help to make the move timely.
We started packing in June and half of my things were already in boxes.
Everything of mine (with the exception of the backseat's worth of things traveling with me and the cats (not owned by me, but traveling with me (can't own cats)(they are the rulers of the living space)) is in one of two storage units.
There is also a discomfiting amount of stillness in moving: sitting in cars, waiting in lobbies, filling out applications at tables, hoping for phone calls, etc. When all of that is added to the frenetic race to get all of the boxes up the stairs before your legs fall apart and all of the kitchen stuff unpacked before your stomach growls through your colon that it is revolting and will now start eating your brain and all of the bathroom stuff out so that you can take that shower that you've been promising yourself for the past I don't know how long and finding all of the screws that put the bed together because there will be sleep tonight, dammit! - it seems like a balance, but it isn't. This is the closest that most of us will ever get the constant imbalance of a life unplanned and unscheduled but very definitely lived.
Will Durant provides me with a certain degree of background awesome.
The cats have learned to hate their afternoon walks, except for Horace who is constantly in need of going to the other side of the front door and then just not really doing anything.
And tonight, there is a social event. Mama made deviled eggs. I haven't eaten any of them.
Yet.
Tuesday 30 August 2011
Monday 29 August 2011
Plan ... Fibonacci
For the last few days, I've been very aware that I am starting a whole new thing in the life of me without a backup plan. I am not known for being excessively controlling, but I do like to be aware of my circumstances and the options that are available to me should the airplane I'm jumping out of decide to blow up with my purse in it. You know?
I forget about Mother Nature. She does not care that my backup plan was about a place to live. She delivered the smack down to Nodaway County in the form of a hail storm that devastated crops; dented homes, cars and picnic tables; ripped rag top roofs on cars and soaked the floor of my former workplace.
The domino effect of which is that moving is put on hold for a bit.
Not long, just a bit. (Given the struggles that many people that I know and love have to know by name, this is hardly a tragedy for me.)
It feels like one of those "One of These Days" kind of times - you know, for when you need to go through old files, or read Tolstoy, or memorize the monasteries of Ireland in the 8th century. There's that list of extremely specific things to do that require special circumstances outside of one's control. Time that is not to be spent doing anything else, as there is not enough time for it.
I have no idea what to do with the time. My list is in a box. In a storage unit (that did not get its roof blown off, thankfully).
This is the part where my issues are the most well-defined. The part where I get too thinky and not do-y enough.
Altho, there are nine more books in the series of Durant left to read, and I've got an Eco and a Le Guin in my bag.
I miss my typewriter right now.
Something a bit more personally creative may be in order.
Anyway, best to all who are packing today!
Best to all who start back to school today!
I forget about Mother Nature. She does not care that my backup plan was about a place to live. She delivered the smack down to Nodaway County in the form of a hail storm that devastated crops; dented homes, cars and picnic tables; ripped rag top roofs on cars and soaked the floor of my former workplace.
The domino effect of which is that moving is put on hold for a bit.
Not long, just a bit. (Given the struggles that many people that I know and love have to know by name, this is hardly a tragedy for me.)
It feels like one of those "One of These Days" kind of times - you know, for when you need to go through old files, or read Tolstoy, or memorize the monasteries of Ireland in the 8th century. There's that list of extremely specific things to do that require special circumstances outside of one's control. Time that is not to be spent doing anything else, as there is not enough time for it.
I have no idea what to do with the time. My list is in a box. In a storage unit (that did not get its roof blown off, thankfully).
This is the part where my issues are the most well-defined. The part where I get too thinky and not do-y enough.
Altho, there are nine more books in the series of Durant left to read, and I've got an Eco and a Le Guin in my bag.
I miss my typewriter right now.
Something a bit more personally creative may be in order.
Anyway, best to all who are packing today!
Best to all who start back to school today!
Digital Alphabet in Stone - Dom Hans van der Laan/Autobahn 2011 from autobahn on Vimeo.
Found at Wooster CollectiveUntitled from Timothy Lane on Vimeo.
Found at Subterranean Books. It's a snippet from their first Whirling Gypsy Comicarouselesque Revue & Burlesque: "Featured St. Louis graphic novelists will read their works in character while projecting the novels slide by slide. It's like story time with pictures!" (The calliope music is a bit loud, but the content is good.)Sunday 28 August 2011
Two and a half days
I am revising cover letters today and doing internet research on book stores and other possible places of employment.
The laundry is done.
The list of items that must be not left behind is made.
We have a plan of driving and where to stay.
Tomorrow I make phone calls.
Lists exist and are relevant.
My nerves are not buying it. This is not the normal move. There is usually this zen that follows the zany of finding a place to live and budgeting and finding a new job and meeting new people -
wait, what?
I don't have time to think about meeting new people, I've got way many other things to worry about!
And yet.
My zen tells me that it's on vacation and I need to find some other coping mechanism. Most of my best friends are also moving or going through massive life shifts. The cats do not let me too far out of sight most of the day. I keep reorganizing things and packing things and we are not in a place that has all of my/their/our stuff.
I keep channeling thoughts of my friend who is so excited about working with other scientists that she joyfully introduces herself at conferences and writes emails with enthusiasm and I believe I'm going to try it. I may not get any jobs out of it, but I may very well meet some people who are doing things that I want to be a part of.
My parents are off on a drive in their new town that has welcomed them gently and with ice cream.
It is time for a shower and then some more tea and then I will write.
My best to all.
Carravaggio, The Calling of St. Matthew
1599-1600; Oil on canvas, 10' 7 1/2" X 11' 2"; Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome
The laundry is done.
The list of items that must be not left behind is made.
We have a plan of driving and where to stay.
Tomorrow I make phone calls.
Lists exist and are relevant.
My nerves are not buying it. This is not the normal move. There is usually this zen that follows the zany of finding a place to live and budgeting and finding a new job and meeting new people -
wait, what?
I don't have time to think about meeting new people, I've got way many other things to worry about!
And yet.
My zen tells me that it's on vacation and I need to find some other coping mechanism. Most of my best friends are also moving or going through massive life shifts. The cats do not let me too far out of sight most of the day. I keep reorganizing things and packing things and we are not in a place that has all of my/their/our stuff.
I keep channeling thoughts of my friend who is so excited about working with other scientists that she joyfully introduces herself at conferences and writes emails with enthusiasm and I believe I'm going to try it. I may not get any jobs out of it, but I may very well meet some people who are doing things that I want to be a part of.
My parents are off on a drive in their new town that has welcomed them gently and with ice cream.
It is time for a shower and then some more tea and then I will write.
My best to all.
Carravaggio, The Calling of St. Matthew
1599-1600; Oil on canvas, 10' 7 1/2" X 11' 2"; Contarelli Chapel, Church of San Luigi dei Francesi, Rome
Friday 26 August 2011
The cat, she makes me nervous with her calm
First and foremost: please be safe in the path of bad weather!
The Beat has an article about the hurricane with useful sorts of links.
In other news, Ali Ferzat, a Syrian cartoonist, was attacked by thugs who beat him and broke his hands. As stated in The Beat's article: "Ferzat is recovering. In the meantime, please visit his website, and do what you can to promote and protect freedom of speech, even in countries where the government actively suppresses this freedom."
Artist stuff: My friend Christopher Wilson's photographs are now available for purchase through his Capture My Chicago page. Go there! Buy some! Send me one!
Today I write more cover letters. I've decided to write one to my potential future landlord as well. I think it smacks of over-doing it. Which is a thing at which I excel.
Researching where I want to work (not who is hiring, where I want to work) has fired my enthusiasm for my not-yet-city.
Subterranean Books! Their events are worth the drool I dripped, and I haven't even been there yet. BYOB is inspired. I am so jazzed to explore this place.
These days are going to be tense ones. I've just eaten the leftover Hamburger Pie. Out of the dish in which my mother cooked it. At the computer. Shameless, I know. Planning forays into the outer world and reading of the possible joys and horrors I may find there do not help to end the tension, but they do help spend the time less unwisely.
Speaking of unwise: I am Still Not Done with the damn book*. I have like 20 pages to go and just can't get there - it's like there's this sense that once this is finished, everything changes. Which is so silly, because everything changes all the time no matter what, so what the hell do 30 pages mean more or less? Anyway, I have another book to finish after that, so the cycle remains, as ever: unbroken.
The British Library maintains a number of blogs through its website. One of them speaks of science fiction. Today, specifically, of library and science fiction. Through the magical realism of Borges. And it gives me this beautiful parting line:
*just Vol. 3 of the set.
The Beat has an article about the hurricane with useful sorts of links.
In other news, Ali Ferzat, a Syrian cartoonist, was attacked by thugs who beat him and broke his hands. As stated in The Beat's article: "Ferzat is recovering. In the meantime, please visit his website, and do what you can to promote and protect freedom of speech, even in countries where the government actively suppresses this freedom."
Artist stuff: My friend Christopher Wilson's photographs are now available for purchase through his Capture My Chicago page. Go there! Buy some! Send me one!
Today I write more cover letters. I've decided to write one to my potential future landlord as well. I think it smacks of over-doing it. Which is a thing at which I excel.
Researching where I want to work (not who is hiring, where I want to work) has fired my enthusiasm for my not-yet-city.
Subterranean Books! Their events are worth the drool I dripped, and I haven't even been there yet. BYOB is inspired. I am so jazzed to explore this place.
These days are going to be tense ones. I've just eaten the leftover Hamburger Pie. Out of the dish in which my mother cooked it. At the computer. Shameless, I know. Planning forays into the outer world and reading of the possible joys and horrors I may find there do not help to end the tension, but they do help spend the time less unwisely.
Speaking of unwise: I am Still Not Done with the damn book*. I have like 20 pages to go and just can't get there - it's like there's this sense that once this is finished, everything changes. Which is so silly, because everything changes all the time no matter what, so what the hell do 30 pages mean more or less? Anyway, I have another book to finish after that, so the cycle remains, as ever: unbroken.
The British Library maintains a number of blogs through its website. One of them speaks of science fiction. Today, specifically, of library and science fiction. Through the magical realism of Borges. And it gives me this beautiful parting line:
... there is no higher life form than a librarian."
THE SCIENCE OF DISCWORLD: Terry Pratchett, Jack Cohen, and Ian Stewart, p. 10.
*just Vol. 3 of the set.
Thursday 25 August 2011
The thing where nothing is really happening. Yet
Because it will be happening. It will be happening in carloads - quite physically. There will be mapping directions and planning interviews and apartment viewings and then interior figuring and domestic economy engineering and finding places for all of the books (mind you, I am only bring 9 (maybe 10) boxes of books to the new place)(not including the ones that have books as padding). This will all happen.
Starting Wednesday. Not yesterday Wednesday, next week Wednesday.
I'm also less than one hundred pages from the end of the Big Book that I'm reading and less than 200 pages from the end of the Other Big Book that I'm reading and have resorted to writing letters and thank you notes. I rewrote my cover letter once this week, and will spend time this evening and tomorrow doing the same. Probably Saturday, as well. Resumes are flexible. I am happy about this.
I don't even have enough dirty clothing to justify the 2USD expense and time of doing the laundry.
This is not my favorite thing in the world. I did this for months last fall and it was not good. People didn't like talking to me very much, or, more like, the talking to me was just confirmation that I was not enjoying things like I like. As I am not in a position to indulge in long-term bleh, I self-medicate with cat-cuddling, gentle thinking and wandering around twitter and Whitechapel for electric jolts of "If you want to do a thing, then do it" and that helps. The doubt thing - it waits outside the office door and slides in like Ethel when she wants to get something you don't want her to have. Ethel is furry and warm and sweet to me. Doubt is infinitely less so, and a terrible conversation partner.
I think it is time to see if I can find something beautiful to look at and share it. Yes?
Good.
Here: Aljoun Castle in Jordan.
Robin LeBlanc took a picture with a mantis in it.
Kickstarter shows me fun card games.
There.
Go.
Live.
Starting Wednesday. Not yesterday Wednesday, next week Wednesday.
I'm also less than one hundred pages from the end of the Big Book that I'm reading and less than 200 pages from the end of the Other Big Book that I'm reading and have resorted to writing letters and thank you notes. I rewrote my cover letter once this week, and will spend time this evening and tomorrow doing the same. Probably Saturday, as well. Resumes are flexible. I am happy about this.
I don't even have enough dirty clothing to justify the 2USD expense and time of doing the laundry.
This is not my favorite thing in the world. I did this for months last fall and it was not good. People didn't like talking to me very much, or, more like, the talking to me was just confirmation that I was not enjoying things like I like. As I am not in a position to indulge in long-term bleh, I self-medicate with cat-cuddling, gentle thinking and wandering around twitter and Whitechapel for electric jolts of "If you want to do a thing, then do it" and that helps. The doubt thing - it waits outside the office door and slides in like Ethel when she wants to get something you don't want her to have. Ethel is furry and warm and sweet to me. Doubt is infinitely less so, and a terrible conversation partner.
I think it is time to see if I can find something beautiful to look at and share it. Yes?
Good.
Here: Aljoun Castle in Jordan.
Robin LeBlanc took a picture with a mantis in it.
Kickstarter shows me fun card games.
There.
Go.
Live.
Wednesday 24 August 2011
How I find myself on Google
I am not always super brilliant (never dull, but sometimes not entirely brilliant) and when I created my blog's URL was a not-super-brilliant moment. Not because it isn't hipster level clever, but because it's so freaking long.
Have you ever read it?
I mean, really read it?
www.independentthoughtavailable.blogspot.com
Do you see how rife with possible misspelling that is? Not to mention that I never remember what order the bits go it.
Generally this is not an issue, but a few weeks ago, I discovered a way to get around the not remembering. And I discovered it quite by accident.
We were talking to friends about a thing called a Toad Suck Shake. It is a kind of food that exists in Missouri (yes, near the Ozarks). I went looking for what it is by Googling "Toad Suck Shake" and did not find the makings right away. Right away I found myself.
Yes.
My blog is the first entry under Toad Suck Shake.
I can't find the description, but from what I remember, it's a Mason (or Ball) jar with layered BBQ and more BBQ and some brisket and I think there's fries involved, and you can eat it in the jar or spread it out on a plate and eat it that way.
Mind you, I keep Googling Toad Suck Shake and then following the link to my blog because, hey - I will make my 15 minutes out of a Ball jar if I damn well feel like it!
In other news:
Want. Go. London this fall/next spring.
Also - everyone is still talking about Rome and Carthage. STILL?
And, Happy 112th Birthday to Jorge Luis Borges.
It is kind of humid here after the rain and gray of last night and yesterday. I am in the mood to wander to the library and remind myself that here there is a lake, and there are bridges and the world is on the outside. It smells so different that I am never certain which way my feet are supposed to land on the ground and I cannot get to comfortable, because soon there will be all new ways to learn to walk and to see and to find the outdoors.
Also, I saw this and my day got better.:
Found at Whitechapel.
Life is good.
Have you ever read it?
I mean, really read it?
www.independentthoughtavailable.blogspot.com
Do you see how rife with possible misspelling that is? Not to mention that I never remember what order the bits go it.
Generally this is not an issue, but a few weeks ago, I discovered a way to get around the not remembering. And I discovered it quite by accident.
We were talking to friends about a thing called a Toad Suck Shake. It is a kind of food that exists in Missouri (yes, near the Ozarks). I went looking for what it is by Googling "Toad Suck Shake" and did not find the makings right away. Right away I found myself.
Yes.
My blog is the first entry under Toad Suck Shake.
I can't find the description, but from what I remember, it's a Mason (or Ball) jar with layered BBQ and more BBQ and some brisket and I think there's fries involved, and you can eat it in the jar or spread it out on a plate and eat it that way.
Mind you, I keep Googling Toad Suck Shake and then following the link to my blog because, hey - I will make my 15 minutes out of a Ball jar if I damn well feel like it!
In other news:
Want. Go. London this fall/next spring.
Also - everyone is still talking about Rome and Carthage. STILL?
And, Happy 112th Birthday to Jorge Luis Borges.
It is kind of humid here after the rain and gray of last night and yesterday. I am in the mood to wander to the library and remind myself that here there is a lake, and there are bridges and the world is on the outside. It smells so different that I am never certain which way my feet are supposed to land on the ground and I cannot get to comfortable, because soon there will be all new ways to learn to walk and to see and to find the outdoors.
Also, I saw this and my day got better.:
Found at Whitechapel.
Life is good.
Tuesday 23 August 2011
Sitting in a office where there are litter boxes
It isn't quite time for food for the cats here Chez My Parents.
They are, of course, dying of neglect and lack of laps and the seemingly endless work of other people unpacking boxes.
You would think the world had ended. It has. But that's really not the point.
My move happens next week. I like referring to it that way. Next week.
*shivers of joy*
Everything is basically up in the air about the move. I do not have a job, I do not know where I am going to live, and I do not know anyone.
13 years ago, I moved to Lincoln in the same situation. Except for the part where I had three times the money I do now and a car and lots and lots of hiding and healing to do.
I feel like the intervening years have been good to me, and I'm pretty stoked about the idea that even if they don't hire me to do minimum wage paying grunt work, the St. Louis Public Library system has got it going on. Holy Master's Degrees! They hire actual librarians to do library work. What?!? I was shocked. Shocked, I tell you.
Also, Laurie R. King is going to be speaking at one of the branches next month. Guess where I'm going to be? Yep - smack dab middle and center. Best view, you know.
I'm taking a book out of my cousin Heather's page and have decided to give STL & I five years to learn each other and see what kind of a life we can make.
People ask me (okay, like 2, but it's still plural) if I'm excited, and the thing is that I'm not, because it's just what is happening next: my life. If I spend a ton of energy getting excited about it, I'll just spin in circles with the excess and make a lot of noise and maybe miss the thing that gets me where I need to be.
Speaking of. It is time to feed the cats. I know this, because they have all flopped on floors, convinced that nothing good can come of bubble warp and cardboard boxes.
Blessings, beloveds.
Be well.
They are, of course, dying of neglect and lack of laps and the seemingly endless work of other people unpacking boxes.
You would think the world had ended. It has. But that's really not the point.
My move happens next week. I like referring to it that way. Next week.
*shivers of joy*
Everything is basically up in the air about the move. I do not have a job, I do not know where I am going to live, and I do not know anyone.
13 years ago, I moved to Lincoln in the same situation. Except for the part where I had three times the money I do now and a car and lots and lots of hiding and healing to do.
I feel like the intervening years have been good to me, and I'm pretty stoked about the idea that even if they don't hire me to do minimum wage paying grunt work, the St. Louis Public Library system has got it going on. Holy Master's Degrees! They hire actual librarians to do library work. What?!? I was shocked. Shocked, I tell you.
Also, Laurie R. King is going to be speaking at one of the branches next month. Guess where I'm going to be? Yep - smack dab middle and center. Best view, you know.
I'm taking a book out of my cousin Heather's page and have decided to give STL & I five years to learn each other and see what kind of a life we can make.
People ask me (okay, like 2, but it's still plural) if I'm excited, and the thing is that I'm not, because it's just what is happening next: my life. If I spend a ton of energy getting excited about it, I'll just spin in circles with the excess and make a lot of noise and maybe miss the thing that gets me where I need to be.
Speaking of. It is time to feed the cats. I know this, because they have all flopped on floors, convinced that nothing good can come of bubble warp and cardboard boxes.
Blessings, beloveds.
Be well.
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