Wednesday, October 31, 2007

Another beautiful moment

When we were landing in Cleveland over Lake Erie, the plane banked just beneath the clouds. The clouds met the water as though we were inside a globe where the edge of the world curved up.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Not making a goal--for other goals

I find that I still like flying, but that I like traveling less. If I packed lighter—felt I needed less accoutrements to be content—like this laptop for instance, I might enjoy it more. But the security difficulties make traveling more of a headache than it used to be.

It occurs to me that traveling is a great leveler. The business man must take off his shoes and often his jacket, just like the casual traveler.

But I do still like flying. I like the growing speed down the runway—the moment when the friction of the tarmac gives way to the friction of the air, and one is airborne—doing the impossible. Heavier than air flying. I like watching the earth disappear beneath. The people, cars, buildings growing ever smaller.

In Boston, one often heads out to sea before turning back to head inland towards one’s destination, so one is nearly in the clouds before being over land.

Out of Kansas City we are over farmland. The tiny cows dotting square or nearly square fields. On a Sunday afternoon the cars are sparse on the great bows of highways. The river—Missouri probably though it seems small, snaking through the farmland. All of the metaphors are taken. I think about how none of those people in cars know that I am looking at them. That all those houses contain families and individuals with sorrows and happiness, frustrations, illnesses, hopes, plans. I have always disagreed with Tolstoy. I think all unhappiness is very similar—as is all happiness. What brings the unhappiness or happiness may vary. What is intolerable to one may be fine to another, but the sensation in the human body is the same. The giddiness, the punch in the gut, the tickle in the eye, the constriction in the throat. The same through time. That’s why the metaphors are taken—it’s all been lived, been done.

What I did find on this trip and on the last few I’ve made was a increase in neurosis which never bothered me before. I find myself a little more aware of the impossible condition of a multi-ton piece of metal hurling through the thin air. Why do we not fall out of the sky? Why do the multitude of things which must be checked go right most of the time and planes not crash on take off or landing.

And, flickeringly—what if there is someone on board who is mad? What if this flight too is destined to be used as a weapon? What will I do—will I have time to do anything? Will I "step up" or will I be a coward?


It doesn't stop me from getting on the plane, but it worries me that the worries are growing.

In the hotel I feel more "skeevie." Scare journalism at it's finest. Are these sheets clean? Is the bathtub? Why am I always in the "murder room." And this is true in the $229 room as well as the $50 room.

On this trip I even had a few moments of fear of heights--which I never have. It plagues my husband.

This is the center courtyard of my hotel from the 19th floor.

This was fine. The odd moment was riding up to the Pinnacle Room--a rotating banquet room on the top of the hotel. Riding up for a moment you were outside--looking at Nashville from the 26th story. But going down was worse--you passed through the roof and suddenly it felt as if you were free falling when you reentered the hotel.
That's it for now--I won't get 25 posts in by midnight tomorrow.
The rest of the trip may be as stream as consciousness as this.

Habataku

a flutter of late flying birds
move as one
scatter like tossed pebbles
above the highway
dappling the cars
through the brilliance
of the late autumn sun
and for a moment
we are underwater

Monday, October 22, 2007

Absent not dead

I have a lovely rubber stamp which says that. I'm typing this in Nashville. So Not dead, just in Tennessee. On a hotel "business center" computer because I didn't want to pay for the internet. Although...it just occurred to me that the rep gave us some codes to use to log on for the conference... Probably get charged twice.

I'm debating whether to go swimming or just go pass out. Passing out is sounding more and more appealing.

So I am in the midst of my conference--my raison d'etre as far as the company is concerned. So far DHL lost a box we shipped on Friday and refused to deliver it when found--containing many things I needed for Sunday's session. Frantic photocopying on the hotel equipment. The case arrived broken, and the brand new booth had a broken bit too, leading to looking for super glue at 7:30 in the morning. Fortunately the hotel store opens early. Didn't realize someone needed a kosher meal. Erased a presentation from the laptop because someone wanted to make last minute updates--should have said no. Had the presentation on jump drive but still little moment of panic. I have been told it's going well. The food is very good.

That's it for now. There are several entries on my laptop but not online. I'm not sure I'll make my deadline next week. We'll see what the rest of the week brings.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

True

"For transracial adoptees, our lives are written in pencil. Everything you think you know about yourself can change in an instant." Bryan Thao Worra

The Only Pearl Jam Song I Like and It's Haunting Me

Get this widget Track details eSnips Social DNA


Daughter

(You guys ready...)
Alone...listless...
breakfast table in an otherwise empty room
Young girl... violins (ence)...
center of her own attention
The, mother reads aloud, child, tries to understand it
Tries to make her proud
The shades go down, it's in her head
Painted room...can't deny
there's something wrong...
Don't call me daughter, not fit to
The picture kept will remind... me
Don't call me daughter,not fit to,
The picture kept will remind... me
Don't call me...
She holds the hand that holds her down
She will...rise above...ooh...oh...
Don't call me daughter, not fit to
The picture kept will remind me
Don't call me daughter, not fit to be
The picture kept will remind me
Don't call me...
The shades go down
The shades go, go, go...

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

Monday, October 01, 2007

Just another manic Monday

Sorry about the title. I had a better one in my head earlier, and now it's gone.

Anyway--I had a terribly productive weekend. I did all my laundry AND all My ironing (not my husband's) Finally filed my own bills, papers and whatnots. Brought down my box of Halloween decorations, split it into a pile for home and a pile for work and put the house things around--even decided to weed some of it by passing it on to other people. Tidied other bits of the house not involved in the above, including my poor neglected sewing room. Wrote all those blog entries AND modified a graphic for work.

I felt very powerful and excited about things and made plans for all sorts of things I could continue to do in the nights and weekends ahead. Oh, and went out and enjoyed sushi and Indian Summer with my husband.

Tonight I worked until 6:30, came home and went back out to drive around a house (may go back to look at it on Wednesday). Washed the towels we dirtied cleaning on Sunday, changed the bed linens, repaired two comforters, put a necklace drop on a different cord, made the world's simplest shrug (cut open a knit tube) that was so simple I have an urge to run out and by two yards in every color, did some hand sewing repairs I'd put off for ages, ironed a shirt for my husband (aren't I nice?), took a bath and am now here. Typing this. (We ate fast food out in case you're wondering).

The problem is that I don't feel like this often or for very long. The last time I can remember being this productive was in June or maybe July (I know I blogged about it) when I made that dress (which I did finish). It's very cyclical. Men can stop reading, but for a good two weeks of the month I feel so tired I barely function when I get home. And, it's very much the P of PMS. The moment it's current MS it's like a switch is thrown and I feel better. And every few months I get a week like this. It's not that I feel manic (still sleeping lots, not spending money I don't have--or no more than usual--etc.) or even euphoric, it's just that I feel that things are possible and manageable so worth starting and finishing projects. I feel excited to be doing things and a desire to be doing things--not vegging in front of the TV.

It's been like this for a long time. So I get very excited for a week, or maybe a week and a half and I finish things and I get set up to do other things, and then I wake up a little more tired or a little more achy, or even worse, just a little more hopeless--where I start to wonder what difference it makes in the world if I make that dress, or have a dusted house, or write, and then the projects and plans just settle on top of what's already there like so much sediment. Until the next time when I might dig off that layer, but never quite get to the really big stuff.

I wonder if people feel like this all the time and how nice that must be.