Day 52 (or: I've been Called)

Alright.  Hold onto your hats, because it's about to get a little weird up here in the blog.
Woo-woo weird. 

But life's like this sometimes, and one of the things that I've realized, slowly, since letting go of The Bad Relationship, and Corporate Life (alright - both of those things let go of me, but who's counting?), is that there's a message in the silence, in the moments in between.  We can listen to those messages or we can ignore them, and on Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I chose to listen.

Okay.  That last paragraph was only slightly woo-woo, but NOW it's going to get positively bizarre, so I really can't blame you if you want to skip down the page a bit.  Here's what's been going on:  I belong to a fellowship (read:  "church"), where I have been a volunteer youth educator on and off throughout the years, for various ages of kiddos.  This year, I agreed again to be an educator for the Middle School kids.  Ever since I made that agreement, I've been having all of these near-ESP-ish moments of synchronicity, in which someone repeats something I've been thinking on for a day or so, or I dream something that then happens the next day, or my thoughts settle on something that eventually is reality within the week. 

If you read through that paragraph, I TOLD YOU SO!  Weird.  Eventually this strangeness convinced me (hold on to your boots!) that I was being "called."  Called to be involved with the kiddos, and specifically involved with the kiddos QUUF in my sweet little home town. 

So I offered myself (weird ESP story and all) to our "church" Youth R(eligious) E(ducation) Director, and came home with the promise of more Middle School Madness than is healthy for any sane person (as I've demonstrated here, my sanity may be in question, so I'm PERFECT for the job!), and a craft project!  I LOVE CRAFTS! 

Day 52 of One Thousand Days, I'm going to put together the scrap book for the Youth Coming of Age program my son (that's him in the upper-center of the photo, below) and about 15 other kiddos went through last year.  Hurrah!

52 Down, 948 to go.

Oh, and I fluffed up the logo...it's not drastically different, but it's different!

Day 51 (or: Chase the blues away)

Today, oh glorious Day of Days, I woke up to find that those little ads over there to the right had earned me my first $.01! I'm a bona-fide, actual-like, professional blogger!  Well, now that I'm all legitimate, I have to think carefully about how I invest all $.01.  And to my mind, I should NOT invest in corporations which are counter to my ideals.  If a company puts single mothers on the street?  Right.  Not going to give them my money.  And if a company steals from little old ladies?  Oh hell no.  They're not getting MY money, the thieves!  And if a company kills baby seals?  Steals childrens' candy?  Kicks stray dogs? Makes fashion handbags out of old-growth timber?  Right again, they're not getting a (alright, my only) penny from me, the scumbags!

Well, the only thing that I know for sure The-Big-Bad-Corporate-Bank-Who-Shall-Remain-Nameless has done is steal from little old ladies (I know a little old lady who's been most alarmingly conned by the smiling clerks in the blue shirts), although I suspect they're probably tangentially involved in all of the rest of those wicked activities above, and MORE.  So today, Day 51 of One Thousand Days, in solidarity with the Occupy Wall Street movement, and in support of my favorite little old lady, I emptied my bank accounts, and deposited the money in my new (old) Chases Chocolate Bank, where it will remain until I deposit it tomorrow at one of the local community oriented credit unions or local banks.

I feel so much better.  No more kicking stray dogs.  51 down, 949 to go.

Day 50 (Or: It only took 1,648 days...)

Wondering what happened to Mr. Wrong?  As my morning begins to unfold, and the call of the siren Internet pulls me and my ever constant mug-o-coffee to the keyboard, I know I am.  Wondering, that is.  And you know what?  I think, after 1,648 grueling days, I've fiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnaaaaaaalllly managed to wipe the Bad Relationship from my life. 

"Now what", you ask?  Thinking that there won't be any more hilarious bloggy admissions of midnight smooching, and elicit emails to confess. Lamenting the possibility that you won't be able to shake your head at the ridiculous and grasping antics of a (very cute and funny) spurned lover, as she struggles to find love and acceptance in all the wrong places.  Right now, you're leaning over your morning coffee and you're wondering if life on One Thousand Days will ever be the same, and you're (admit it) a little bit concerned. 

You may even be thinking:  "But, darling...Who will you think about when you've got nothing else to think about? Who will you exchange late night naughty text messages with?  Who will leave the lingering smell of wood and soap on your pillow? Who will move that huge piece of concrete out of your driveway?"

Well, since you asked, I'll tell you:  I'll think about what vegan and sugar free (mildly disgusting, but tasty once you get past the gag factor) melange to cook for dinner, I'll write funny and scathing Facebook status updates, I'll enjoy not being allergic to my own pillow and I'll bury the piece of concrete under a foot of pebbles - you'll never even know it was there.  Hah! 

Now, who's up for fixing me up with a friend?  I've got to fuel this blog somehow, or it'll be boring me-me-me ness for the next 950 days.  This is what I'm looking for:

Day 49 (Or: I Look Up)

And in a moment of silence, rather than pointing my nose at the ground, rather than hanging my head in shame or reverence, I look up.  Not because there's something up there, or because I'm waiting to be shone on or to receive divine intervention and guidance, but because it's beautiful up there.

Really.

Even though the window is North facing, and doesn't capture the Westward traveling sun, what I see through that window reminds me that I am both small and great, one of many, and that the week will begin with this light, with my feet planted firmly on the ground, and my eyes gazing (what a pompous word, but that's what they're doing!) up and out.

Day 49 of One Thousand Days, Sunday, the beginning of the week, I look up.

49 down, 951 to go.

Day 48 (or: I Blame Harry Potter)

Catchy title, no? But don’t get me wrong, I’m not just trying to lure you in with the Harry Potter label(although, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but Harry Potter’s pretty huge right now, and I wouldn’t mind a piece of that), I actually mean it. It’s all Harry’s fault.

Harry and ultra-neatness. Yes. I visited The Spotless Bathroom again today, and I realized something. Somebody probably cleans that bathroom at least twice a day. Somebody who probably begrudges cleaning it. And maybe they really lament cleaning it with every fiber of their being, and maybe they'd do just about anything to avoid it, and maybe they gripe about it at night when they get home to their family. I know I would.

Now. How does this relate to Harry?  I'll tell you in a minute.  But first, an update: The Leckenby bathroom has stayed clean for almost 24 hours, but that’s likely largely due to the absence of the Leckenby boy. Of course, the Leckenby boy is due to return to his house (along with his dirty socks, toothpaste-cap-leaving-offness, and general dust-bunny-ness), and the bathroom’s fate is looming in the balance. And here’s the thing. This sort of struggle is pretty much a constant. Because, of course, the necessity for order and tidiness is a constant, as is the entropy which drags all order toward chaos. And therefore, I’m pretty much on the same wavelength as the poor soul who cleans The Spotless Bathroom. Constantly lamentable.

Which brings me back to Harry. Here’s what I do: I assuage lamentable things by indulging in compulsion, and for the last year and a half, I’ve used a particular tool to calm my brain (and alright, I admit it, to avoid cleaning the bathroom…and other things): I’ve re-read the Harry Potter series (all 7 books) over and over and over and over again. Probably 5 or 6 times over again (in varying order). Haven’t picked up a single novel other than Harry Potter since July 2009. Yep. Weird. So today, Day 48 of One Thousand Days, in accordance with blogging as therapy, I will (mid 5th book, no less) admit that I’ve been self-medicating with Harry Potter, and will stop.

I feel a bit like Linus without his security blanket, but 48 down, 952 to go.

Day 47 (or: The Bathroom's Come Down With Refrigerator Disease)

Hello, beautiful day! Beautiful, gray day! Beautiful, wet, muddy, gray day! Oh, okay, there’s nothing beautiful about today, which is just downright soggy. Nothing, that is, other than the bathroom. 

Day 47 of One Thousand Days, I drove my mother to what is the end of 2 weeks of a total of six weeks of daily radiation. And was inspired. Not by the drive that is by now rote (I swear, the car could drive itself), but by the bathroom at the clinic. Yes, indeed, potty inspiration! You saw it here, first! At any rate, the bathroom in the clinic is spotless. And smells like nothing. NOTHING. Not like soap, not like potty, not like clinic, not like antiseptic, not like a new car, or new money. It smells like nothing.

This, I surmise, is because it contains practically nothing. Nothing but a toilet, sink and towel dispenser. And it was so clean. No dust, no soap scum, no socks on the floor, no toothbrushes cluttering up the sink counter…nothing. And I’m in love with the nothingness. So much so, that I drove home, marched into the bathroom and emptied it of things. Now MY bathroom smells like nothing, too! Hurrah!  The bathroom and the refrigerator are now in the same club...the Ridiculously Clean Club.

And then I found this short video about a family who live a zero waste lifestyle: http://vitality.yahoo.com/video-second-act-the-johnson-family-24454760

Which just pushed me over the edge. And very directly toward nothingness bliss. Is it possible that my desire for nothingness is directly correlated to my recent inner clutter?

Whatever the inference, I can happily say: Watch out, THINGS, I’m coming for you! Yes, YOU!

Day 47 down, 953 to go.

Day 46 (or: What To Do With The Next 954 Days)

Have you ever felt stuck? Like you’re in a situation, a scenario, a scheme that dictates your movement in ways which annoy you at your core? I’m there right now. Stuck. And as a result, I’m about to force myself to embark on a journey. Another one. Spoiler alert! This journey, while it’s definitely One Thousand Days worthy, focuses pretty heavily on me.

The truth and reality of living in this human body, is that change is a constant. We humans are blessed and cursed by constant change in feelings, surroundings, body and mind. Change in occupation, change in lifestyle, change in friendships, yearnings, longings, needs. People are born, people die. People change.

Sometimes that means that the world is full of loveliness and light. Sometimes it means that the world is full of sorrow and grief.

I regret to report that a very large percentage of the recent Days, in between official Day postings, have been dark in ways that they shouldn’t be, and if I don’t do something about it, I have the feeling that I’ll be stuck all through the summer (if you live in the Pacific Northwest, you know how precious those summer days are, and how much we need to enjoy them while we can – all 10 days of them).

Now, this low place is not foreign territory. It’s a low in which I occasionally become mired, and have a difficult time extricating myself from without making Very Big Changes. Usually those changes come externally from a change in jobs or in circles of influence or in surroundings or habits. But right now, the world is fairly static, and the changes aren’t just going to pop up on the horizon, I have to make them happen in a more conscious and purposeful way.

After my last posting, I asked friends to tell me what my next Thing should be. One friend intrigued me by suggesting that I should tell myself the truth, no matter what I tell anyone else. So Day 46 of One Thousand Days, I’ll start by saying: Carita, my dear, you’re not happy, and you’d better do something about it. Blogging as therapy.

46 down, 954 to go.