Healing happens...

I am on the mend from my little dip into the pool of icky sticky ooey gooey slimy self-centered fear. It will come up from time to time, and cause all kinds of havoc. Getting out of it is definitely a purification process, and this always impels me into action, making the changes needed to, well, change. I am going to different meetings, actually went to church this Sunday, and am reading The Secret, which I already knew and just needed to be reminded of. This morning, I made myself pancakes with (sugar-free) strawberry jam, sliced almonds, a banana and Cool Whip, one addiction I am never recovering from. Really a treat. Now I am dressed in my little shorts and tank top, suitable for a trip down to Barnes and Noble in search of a book by John Tarrant, who spoke at my little church sojourn, a Zen teacher, very interesting man from Tazmania, and who thought there were still people coming from Tazmania? Anyway, his book is about the value of suffering. I need that at the moment.

The awful truth...

Here's what happened. Two and half years ago, I left a long-term relationship. Except he never went away. We separated, forty miles apart, but he continued to call, I saw him at least once a week at our mutual meeting, and we did some activities together, not dates, just activities. And last Thursday, he told me he is seeing someone. So I fell apart. Well, I never did when I moved here, and this is my usual way of dealing with the end of relationships, melting into a rather unattractive puddle until I get sick of myself, and get it together again. I was way overdue. During my last crying jag, I realized that this is a truly safe time to fall apart, when he is not available and I am not tempted to soothe myself with him. That would be a very, very, very bad idea. I have be reading old journals of our time together, and I was not a happy camper most of the time. This man has a whole menu of behaviors that are at best difficult to live with. There is the non-stop monologue of his most miniscule activities. There is the whining about his finanacial situation. There is his financial situation, which is dicey, all the time. And there were some really stinky personal habits, too. Okay, he was sexy. And he is an amazing artist, and he taught me to paint, and we had some really wondrous moments, too. Letting go is painful, and oh, so necessary. It also happens to be ten years to the day since we met, and fell in love. I like to fall in love in the summer, I find. Oh, well.

Reality bites.

As much as I hate to admit it, I have put on a few pounds. Don't you hate it when that happens? I can still get into most of my wardrobe, and that's good. However, in certain things, I do somewhat resemble an Italian sausage. And I have this uncomfortable feeling when propped up in bed reading, like there is this shelf that didn't used to be there, right below my boobs. So, we have once again bitten the bullet and committed to an eating plan. Not a diet, that's too deprivation sounding. Eating plan is better, because it is about eating, after all. Lots of salad, not a hard thing to do when the weather is like today, all toasty warm. And some exercise, fueled by a little over-the-counter diet remedy, formulated for post-menopausal gals like me. I never need the full dose of that stuff. My little system is so very sensitive, one of those capsules keeps me dashing about all day long. I estimate that in 6 weeks I will be all slim and comfy again in my pants. It really is about being comfortable. And continuing to fit into my wardrobe. I refuse to buy fat pants anymore.

And there's more...

Of course. Movies, I mean. I saw this documentary on the making of Star Wars the other night. Man, it was a mess. More time went into the manifestation of the idea than into the movie. George Lucas actually consulted with Joseph Campbell, which may be one major reason that it became such a huge hit. There are archtypical heros and nemeses in this saga that resonate in all of us. Like Spielberg's ET, where we all knew the greatest fear, abandonment. Anyway, it had a minimal budget, there was no special effects department capable of handling their needs, the cast was somewhat amateurish, except those wonderful British actors, Alec Guiness and Peter Cushing, whose presence gave the film great weight in the end. The locations were hellish, the robots kept malfunctioning. In the end, there were marathon filming sessions on many sets at once, and ditto the editting process. Lucas went out on a limb and hired John Williams to give it a symphonic score, and they had to coerce theaters to book it by offering it as a package with The Other Side of Midnight, a mediocre potboiler to say the most. And it just took off. This "kid's movie" created an international phenomenon, so much so that the toy manufacturers were caught off guard and had to offer at Christmas empty boxes with pictures of action figures to be shipped in March. This was a movie I fell in love with, saw several times in the theater, bought on tape as soon as it came out. Actually, don't tell anyone, but we had a pirated tape of it before its release. And I have the soundtrack, too. It is noodling away in the background as I type, kind of synchronous, don't you think?

My life in movies...

We saw the new Pirates movie last night, and, although I have expounded on the lack of imagination that leads producers to give us films based on theme park rides, I have to admit, it was dynamite. Gross around the edges, really amazing special effects, and a story that had its share of pathos along with some mind-bending action sequences. I grew up with movies, in the theater, mostly, as we didn't have VCRs or cable to bring them right into our living rooms (the only room that would eventually house a TV). Early films that shaped my existence: Cinderella, Snow White, Song of the South, Bambi, Pinocchio, Dumbo (still makes me cry), Gone With the Wind, Giant, The Wizard of Oz, Bye Bye Birdie, It's a Mad Mad Mad Mad World, Day the Earth Stood Still, This Island Earth (my scifi stage), Suddenly Last Summer (only because it was one of two movies I went to with my mother, the first was Gilda, and I was too young to remember it). I have never liked war movies, and totally maxxed out on cowboy flicks because that was what was on TV in those early days: Wagontrain, Rawhide, Gunsmoke, Maverick, etc, etc, etc. John Wayne never impressed me, and neither did Elvis Presley. But I loved the Beatles movies, all of them. An early adulthood movie that really got me was Repulsion, a Roman Polanski film starring Catherine Deneuve, so scary I was sick to my stomach with fear. I liked art films then, Seance on a Wet Afternoon, The Pumpkin Eater, Woman in the Dunes, Last Year at Marienbad, all dripping with angst. I outgrew musicals too, though I still love Camelot, South Pacific, and Singing in the Rain. And I am a devoted Alfred Hitchcock fan, beginning with Rebecca, that stunning film of the Daphne Du Maurier novel, with Joan Fontaine and Laurence Oliver. Nobody beats a young Larry in the looks department. Nobody. And Jane Eyre, Joan again with Orson Welles before his baby whale stage, all craggy and perfect as Mr. Rochester. Never liked Wuthering Heights, though. Just too much irony and suffering. Anyway, I still love going to the movies. And you know the best thing about it? Previews! We saw the trailer for the new Harry Potter movie last night. Man, it looks really hot. Just one little month away! Something to live for! Well, there could be worse things, n'est-ce pas?

That was the 63 years that was...

I grew older yesterday. And I was thinking about everything I have today that they didn't have when I was born. Television, for instance. Never mind cable, satellite, VCRs, DVDs, or even remote controls. Soap operas were on the radio. Mom listened to Ma Perkins, One Man's Family, and Helen Trent. Dear Helen, she was the longest suffering person in the whole entire world. I heard these sagas only peripherally, because I was supposed to be napping when they came on, same time they still do, after lunch. We didn't even have jet airplanes then. When they came along, during the cold war, we would have air raid drills at school, where we all jumped under our desks and covered our heads and our eyes so we wouldn't be blinded by the atomic mushroom cloud. Funny, I don't remember being particularly concerned about that. In my lifetime, man went to war, over and over again. FDR was president when I was born, and we were still in the war to end all wars, World War II. Then Korea, then Viet Nam, then the Gulf War, and gee, here we are again. I studied Western Civilization, from the dawn of man's emergence from the caves, and it is a never-ending saga of war. So I can say with some assurance that nothing has changed since I came along. Most of what has happened seems to be good, though. I like minipads that stick right to your panties, instead of having to have an elastic belt with a metal-toothed grip, that frequently gripped more than it was designed to. Birth control pills were nice, too. Cars are much more diverse, more than GM or Ford or Chrysler, which is pretty much what there was in my early days. Oh, there was Studebaker and Rambler, too, but only really geeky people drove those. And they were twice the size as today's puddlejumpers, even the big sedans on the road today. Seatbelts, what're they? Actually, they built cars from real steel and bumpers were real chrome and meant business then, we could get by without seatbelts. And helmets, another new thing. I rode my bike all around this county without a helmet. Fell off it a few times, too, but usually not on my head. A dog was just a dog. If it got hit by a car (no leash laws, either), you got another one. There were no dog dentists, or dog chiropractors, and certainly, no one was interested enough to be a dog psychic. Rock and roll, along with American Bandstand (long live Dick Clark) came about just as I entered puberty, and Sixteen Candles came out when I was, well, 16. A big Saturday night was cruising Fourth Street and getting a hamburger at Mel's, just like American Graffiti. Pizza was still on the horizon. I was a senior in high school before we had the first pizza, at a little Italian joint on Courthouse Square. I liked it because we still couldn't eat meat on Friday night, and you could get a pizza with just cheese and mushrooms. Yep, a lot of good stuff has come about during my little span of years. It could be better, but it could be a whole lot worse, too.

Situation normal here...

My check card arrived in yesterday's mail. Everything is now replaced, except my Safeway card, and you really don't need that, just enter your phone number, and my student ID, which I don't need till fall semester. Because I believe most problems can be solved by throwing money at them (or reading a book), I went online and ordered a wallet purse, one that can be attached to my body at all times, either across my chest or around my waist, and carry those essential things I always need with me, like my glasses, sunglasses, lipstick, $$$, and those pesky ID cards. Really, wouldn't it be better if we all just got tatooed across our foreheads at birth with a barcode? That would solve all that identity theft stuff, wouldn't it? Anyway, I am off to do some serious errand-running, post office, bank (for a more manageable PIN), and skulking around used furniture stores for some furniture for my studio, where everything lives on the floor at the moment. And with my bank card securely in my little summer purse, the sky's the limit! Well, the bank account is the limit, but you know what I mean. Joy in the small things, that is the secret to a blessed life.

The devil made me do it! And other true confessions...

Okay, you got me, I went to WalMart. I have been duly warned about the evils of this establishment, but could find no alternative. Really. I needed bubblebath, and birdseed, and Milk Bones, and moisturizer. Maybe Target would have been an alternative, but it has gotten terribly chichi lately, and there is no $2.82 half gallon of bubblebath to be found in their whole 72 acre store. So, I got all of the above, plus a sweet little sleeveless sweater, and a dog toy for the Boo boy (which he found even before I put the other things away), all for $42. And, blessed be, my new bank card arrived today, and the PIN notice arrived in the same mail! I can shop! I immediately went online and bought a new wallet thingy, one that has a strap that adapts from over the shoulder to around the waist, so I can attach all my important stuff to my body at school, where it will not fall out of my bookbag and keep me spinning from lack-of-shopping daze. Only one more thing to replace, my student ID, and how great is that! The picture on it was definitely truly awful. Life is good.

Deep Thoughts...Vol. IXCCC

Have you ever noticed that when you have no time to do anything, you get a lot done? And, vice versa? Really, the more time I have to do something, the less I get done. Take my summer list. Most of the things on it were on it last summer. And chances that anything will get done this year are pretty slim, too. Some of these chores require a strong back, like getting shelves up in the studio, and moving stuff around the garage. I could do my eyelash batting woman alone routine, but that often promises more than I want to offer. And hiring someone I don't know is terrifying. If there weren't any stairs, I could accomplish much with a furniture dolly. I am mulling here, hoping a solution will present itself. Meanwhile, the floor in the studio is a minefield of canvasses, sketchbooks, tote bags full of painting supplies, spare easels, all that stuff. Yardwork is calling me, but the weather is cooooold out there, and I am not inspired. Later. So I diddle away at the computer, or sketch baby animals in my sketchbook (actually, I need to draw a lot in it, there's a competition I could enter), and read really smarmy mystery novels. Hey, I'm on vacation, too.