It's like a garden

The best advice that I have given in recent memory is that a relationship (and, this applies to all relationships - familial, romantic, and friendly) is like a garden. While it may apply to a somewhat lesser extent to friendships and familial relations, all relationships need constant tending.

The way that I manage my friendships is very much like a controlled burn. I pour gasoline on that shit and toss a match. This is maybe not the very best way to be, but it does weed out those who cannot "deal," as it were. Sometimes this also devolves into an "untended campfire" scenario, but...

I'm actually quite tender-hearted and caring, but it is sometimes hard to know this about me given the way that I regularly conduct myself. The kind side of me seems to only come out in terribly quiet and private moments. I wish that I could be more even more of the time. Perhaps that isn't something that is readily apparent to those around me though, both that I wish to be more even, or that I am, in fact, quite gentle.

I suppose that the turmoil that churns inside of me almost daily doesn't help things one bit. I feel very much at loose ends. All details are unresolved. And I very much have a hard time just putting a cap on things and walking away. Or, if I try, it becomes explosive at the very worst of times.

I've been trying to be more gracious. It's a habit I am working to cultivate. This has been difficult.

This is another habit that I need to break. The "aside." I too often let my new thought distract me from the current one.

But I digress.

Relationships, gardens. I will focus on romantic entanglements despite my earlier announcement that this is applies to all relationships, as, the advice I was giving was strictly related to this, and was focused on my own fuck-ups.

Hard to write. Easier to confess when the words are just going out into the air, and not being set down for robots to peruse. I'm not sure why I am so fussed that robots will judge me... Much more likely that I will just judge myself when I come back to this much later. I dare anyone to be a more severe critic than I am of myself, always. Well, maybe I don't "dare" anyone to be, as I am sure that there are things that I overlook/ignore, or, know and refuse to acknowledge.

My last "real" relationship, was, as it turns out, a hot mess. And that may be putting it too kindly. I let everything slide as far as maintaining a real connection. Part of this was my desire to allow for "space" (which I very much still believe in), but at the same time, I got very complacent, and, in a way, became uncaring as far as daily interactions went. Yes, there was regularly the kiss goodbye in the morning, with an "I love you" thrown in for good measure. But as far as cultivating and maintaining meaningful interaction, I very much failed. I have to live with this, and, I'm sure that I could easily detail the many ways in which I fucked up, but, suffice to say that in the end, while I could wax poetic about the space taken up in my heart by this other life/personality, maybe it was all bullshit. Maybe I had checked out way before I thought I had. I certainly wasn't putting in much effort, beyond the efforts of madness borne of desperation about what was being taken away from me. The security of knowing there was someone to come home to, even when it clearly wasn't working anymore. There were details beyond this... some real horror-show moments, that I will not go into great lengths about, and I know that these also took their toll, but... it was a rough break, and at the same time, I let myself get tied into knots about, again, something that was clearly failing.

And... let's tie it all back to horticulture.

One does not merely plant a garden and let it grow wild.

"Weed the bed weekly, or whenever young weeds manage to breach the mulch layer. Prompt weed removal prevents the plants from establishing in the garden, where they rob moisture and nutrients from your garden plants while also providing a haven for pests and disease."

"Just as weeds are a detriment so are pests such as insects. Bugs, slugs, and beetles can all wreck havoc on a garden. When you spot them, make sure you take the proper steps to evict them! If a pesticide you purchase at the store doesn’t work, you will probably want to call in a professional."

Take from that what you will but my interpretation is that:

1. Deal with shit when it comes up or it will eventually destroy what you have.
2. Don't be scared to call in a professional. Sometimes it takes a dis-interested 3rd party to really root out what is going on, and put you onto the right path.

Of course, this is coming from a girl with years of therapy under her belt. (though, none in recent memory, and I would very likely benefit from taking up the reigns again.) A lot of people see the discussion of their thoughts/feelings with a hired gun as some sort of weakness. And yes, I engage in a fair amount of navel-gazing that would possibly be put to better use by actually moving forward, but...

This is just how I see things. I give great/terrible advice but very very rarely apply my own insights to my particular brand of madness. I know many things, and most often behave as though I am a babe in the woods. My cross, I bear it.

Off the rails

I spend a lot of time here, recently. It's sort of gross. I'm not at peace. I need to slow down, overall.

Foam home

Or: Why I Love(d) Wisconsin.

When I was 9 my Grandmother and I drove from Montana to Virginia in order to visit family. I don't have many clear memories of the trip, but one standout was our stop in the Wisconsin Dells. To my 9-year-old self, this place was a wonderland. A Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, Old-timey photo places, tons of water parks, Mini Golf, Go Karts, strange and small shops lining the sidewalks where I managed to score a kick-ass and completely useless pair of moccasins, and a Visitor's Guide filled with hotels that featured themed rooms (or "fantasuites" as I now find they are termed). My tiny mind was blown by all the strangeness of what basically amounts to an entire town dedicated to being a tourist trap.

HOWEVER... beyond all of that, the one place that I visited whilst touring The Dells that will stick with me forever was Xanadu: House of the Future.





Looks just like the future, right?

From Wikipedia:
"The Xanadu Houses were a series of experimental homes built to showcase examples of computers and automation in the home in the United States. The architectural project began in 1979, and during the early 1980s three houses were built in different parts of the US: one each in Kissimmee, Florida; Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin; and Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The houses included novel construction and design techniques, and became popular tourist attractions during the 1980s.

The Xanadu Houses were notable for being built with polyurethane insulation foam rather than concrete, for easy, fast, and cost-effective construction. They were ergonomically designed, and contained some of the earliest home automation systems. The Kissimmee Xanadu, designed by Roy Mason, was the most popular, and at its peak was attracting 1000 visitors every day. The Wisconsin Dells and Gatlinburg houses were closed and demolished in the early 1990s; the Kissimmee Xanadu House was closed in 1996 and demolished in October 2005."

I super loved this place. It was the first of the Xanadu houses, and I never visited another, though I've read that especially the Kissimmee house was more focused on the automation aspects. That would have been interesting to see but I think that home has been particularly well documented, both in books and in video, both from the heyday and more current times.

Xanadu Home of the Future with Designer Architect Roy Mason
Kissimmee Abandoned Tour Part 1

The basic idea behind the construction of these homes was an elevated form of papier-mâché. And while it isn't somewhere that I would live, for a variety of reasons (Inability to hang pictures, the never ending struggle to dust all that texture, and my love for architecture composed of sharp angles and clean lines, among other things) it was certainly an interesting concept. Unfortunately, it seems that spray foam is perhaps not the best material to use for 100% of a home's construction and without regular, and I imagine intense, maintenance it is all too easy for the structure to fall prey to decay, most notably, mold.

For my money, the imprecision of the final product, with it's irregular and organic forms, isn't worth the effort. This is something that I can only tolerate in art and nature, it seems.

That being said, again, as a child, I was enchanted by this strange building. The spire at far left was hollowed and filled with dancing lights. The bedroom was centered on a round bed that sat on a tall and thin pedestal, with a series of ascending columns to step up. And, there were passageways that only children could fit in, leading up to a play loft. It was quite magical and exciting as a first exposure to any alternative ideology about what a home could be.

Also, "fantasuites" are weird, and I'm pretty sure, disgusting.



Most reviews on TripAdvisor comment about how poorly lit each room is, and details the abundance of mirrors on nearly every surface. I would be beyond frightened to take a black light into any of these spaces.

I can has sad

I'm sad.

There, I said it.

Nothing really seems more mundane than plain old, ordinary, sadness. But when you are caught up in the whirlpool, it seems as though there is very little outside of it.

I've come to realize that robots, not humans, ever read my blog posts, so I am less inclined to suppress whatever is rolling around in my head, for fear of being called on it later. This may come back to bite me, but, all the same... I steam ahead. I treat this like a diary.

There have been so many strange things that have been said to me in the past few weeks.

I clearly remember hearing... "Do you remember how I told you I've never had a real relationship" (to which I replied "Yes") and then... "I feel like that is about to end." and then I left.

And another day where the question was "How long do you think you will stay here?"

And then... in the last seconds of a last moment "It would have worked out." (Which, for the record, if a horrible thing to say to someone as you are preparing to leave the state.)

What could I have done to craft a better last moment, something less heart-wrenching, something less ripe for offhanded and ultimately damaging comments like that? Walked you to your car? Yes, certainly I should have done that. Any moment would be a moment treasured. But I did not. (This is all that timing stuff coming into play.)

And tonight, you called, and the connection was so bad that we could only talk for a few moments, and I didn't get to hear hardly anything about your last 7 days, when all that I want to do is hear about all of your days,

I know it's dumb, and hopeless, but... All the same, I can't stop myself. Feeling everything is ultimately better than feeling nothing. You are a beacon in a sea of boring. I will likely regret these words in the morning, but it doesn't make them any less true, just... easier to stuff down in the sunlight.

So dumb. It all would have ended in tears, one way or the other, anyway,

Still, a girl can dream.

There is no thread

I did a little bit of spring cleaning in here the other day, after also horribly breaking the template. It was probably time for a refresh anyway. Maybe all in service to figuring out what I can hang on to and what I need to let go of...

Of course I can't fully stow away my memories, but perhaps it is just time to let them have less power over me.

I was talking with a friend the other day about how moving to somewhere new can be such a blessing. As I walk/drive/bus all around this city, I have very clear and specific memories attached to so many places. Some good, some bad, some just... there... but all the same, it often feels like paging through an old photo album, and the sometimes-ache that can accompany that pastime. I can't really decide if the place-memories are a good or a bad thing, and of course I am often in these same spaces creating new memories to layer over the old, but all the same, sometimes I think that it would be nice to have a change of scene. I love Seattle, but I do often wonder if I've been here too long. I don't know where else to go though. I suppose that I will remain until compelled to leave, until called away.

I'm working on becoming a more active listener. This is something that I have maybe not been so great at in the past. I'm trying to ask more questions, and do less talking of my own. It's interesting, how much people will just talk and talk (and I am very much guilty of this myself) and never think to ask "Et tu?" - it seems to actually take a very special sort of person to find the right balance between give and take in a conversation. A consequence of all this listening is, of course, these more frequent updates to my blog. There is no thread between these posts, really, beyond the fact that it is all the stuff that is rattling around in my mind, and when I compare these posts to the much much older ones, it's much more than a hard jump between two subjects.

In the past few months, I've been a bit of a shit to a few friends, and I have some rebuilding to do over... the rest of my life, probably. When I get upset, I tend to drink my feelings. This is a fucked-up "coping" mechanism that I first implemented years ago when my father was dying and refused to get into contact with me so that we could have any chance of reconciliation. I pull this trick out of the bag from time to time, because I believe what cowboys tell me in songs...

I'm gonna keep drinkin'
until I'm petrified.
And then maybe these tears
will leave my eyes.

or

I'm gonna keep drinkin'
till I can't even think
Cause in the last week
I ain't slept a wink

But I do actually know that this is not a good way to be. I have found myself having to issue apologies for stupid things I have said and done somewhat recently, or, at the very least, being tied up in knots wishing that I could get a do-over, take it back, don't hit send, do not pass go, or what-have-you. I don't want to behave in a way that harms the people around me, so I need to find a new way to deal with bad feelings. I don't think that drinking is inherently destructive, but... my timing is off.

Notoriously poor timing, in almost all things.

Sometimes I forget to breathe

It's true, sometimes I forget to breathe. This may not be 100% accurate though. It may be more fair to say that sometimes, when I am nervous or upset, I hold my breath. This leads to me getting very dizzy, at which point I begin to panic, which doesn't make breathing one bit easier.

The same could be said of myself emotionally. I often forget that the best plan is to calm down and step back - really assess the situation. Intellectually I am usually pretty clear on what is going on, but the stupid heart/feelings tend to gum up the works and I sometimes simply begin to flail.

It's not a good head-space to be in, in either situation - and oddly, the cure for each is very much the same. Long walks let my mind rest a little bit. Focusing on one foot in front of the other, or letting myself be distracted by things seen.

I was watching Apocalypto over the weekend and the journey that the main character takes made me wonder - What does it mean to be a man? There is a quite a lot of information out there about this - about the idea of being a man - but after reading through quite a lot of it, I am not sure that the gender roles really apply and the insight I gained is better applied to "What does it mean to be a person?" - and by this, I mean, a person of quality - not just a lump on the surface of the planet. I'm not going to gender edit the items that I cherry-pick for my list, but at the same time, these apply across the board...

Lessons Learned:

1. A man is defined by his accomplishments and his purpose.
2. A man holds himself accountable.
3. A man does not fear failure.
4. A man believes in beauty.
5. A man is composed.
6. A man takes responsibility for his deeds.

And then, possibly the best piece of the whole lot...

A man feels like a man whenever he faces the right way, staring straight into his fears. He feels even more like a man when he advances in the direction of his fears, as if sailing on the winds of an inner scream.

No one ever moved forward, successfully, while looking backward. I look backward all the time, and often ascribe this to self-reflection, but in my more lucid moments, it's easy to see that this is most often just wallowing. I let past pains sully my view of the future, and too often let fear guide my choices. I struggle to find the balance between "all-in" and just being a spectator. I turn moments over in my mind until the interior is rubbed raw.

I find it hard to let go of the idea of people who have made a significant impression on me over the years. It takes a very long time for these personalities to fade into just memories.

We aren’t meant to be this tethered to all the people in our past. But I don't know how to tell who I should let go of and who I should hang on to.