A Reprise

Well, that is a dove. It seems like my camera has degraded over the years. This Treo is at least three years old now. I still remember that I was listening to Nightwish on my Treo 600 when I dropped it and it lost its speaker abilities. Things have changed so much for me. I look back through the tunnel of years and feel strange and lost. I wonder if I made some bad career decisions, then I wonder if I care about this sort of work at all. Am I going to making mincing steps through life without committing to anything? Always I have said, I'm just here waiting for the next thing. Or, when I was in high school, because I had to be, but my mind was in a "better" place, college, but I learned quickly I couldn't settle my mind there either so lived in my future job. Here I am in, I guess, my fourth job. In one sense I would have been pleased I managed to be hired by four different people. Part of me asks for very, very little in life. And then the other part of me asks for s

-- This is what the Lord says: "Let not the wise man boast of his wisdom or the strong man boast of his strength or the rich man boast of his riches, but let him who boasts boast about this: that he understands and knows me, that I am the Lord, who exercises kindness, justice and righteousness on earth, for in these I delight," declares the Lord. -- What this suggests to me on my very quick morning meditation is that knowing God is a choice we can make. There is no sense in boasting about something that we didn't make ourselves, and that would be anything about our physical or mental beings.

Today Nathan and I went to Tuesday Morning and browsed. It was so fun. We bought random things there and at Tom Thumb. I got this recipe journal kit at Tuesday Morning and spent this afternoon breaking it in. I already have three pages done. At Tom Thumb I found glittering black tea lights on Halloween clearance. This weekend has been full of the unexpected. We saw four houses Friday evening after work in an incredible heat wave. The first two were pretty fascinating. We started putting together an offer on the first house with our realtor this weekend. This morning I checked my email, and the seller dropped the price on the farm house so that we could afford it with our mortgage. We accepted the offer. So the farm house I described back in April, well, that's probably going to be our home. I won't believe it until we're moved in, and I'm not talking about it till it's a done deal. But I did start back embroidering my curtains today, and I felt a deep brooding happi

Tonight I did a little more than I thought I could. I always think that if I could just get organized I would be able to sit myself right down after a day's work, pick up some sewing work and go after it, but maybe that's a perfect world. I planned meals for the weekend, bought groceries and set my sauerbraten to marinate. It will have to marinate two days since the recipe specified at least 24 hours and I will not be home until late evening tomorrow. I wish I had written out my Black Dahlia dream earlier. I could remember it better then. I woke at about midnight with my blood running cold. I got up and checked all the locks and even looked out the window. I don't really understand what scared me so much, because I wasn't in danger in the dream. Some murder details follow. In my dream we lived in a dorm, one of those with covered walkways between buildings, and the exterior walls that look like they've been laid in glue, then laid in some rocks. The areas on

Christina Rossetti. Then I cried out upon him: Cease, Leave me in peace: Fear not that I should crave Aught thou mayst have. Leave me in peace, yea trouble me no more, Lest I arise and chase thee from my door. What, shall I not be let Alone, that thou dost vex me yet? But all night long that voice spake urgently: 'Open to Me' Still harping in mine ears: 'Rise, let Me in.'

I have no writing challenge for today. At least, not for this morning. I need to be in my own head for a while, because it seems like my mind has been disembodied lately. I have been doing a lot of paperwork lately, which puts me in a trance state, and when I come home I resist journaling or Alexandra Stoddard-ing and go stick my head in something where I don't have to think creatively or express. This has led to me feeling really depressed when I reconcile with my writing goals. Last night I had a dream that scared me so deeply. It was basically surrounding the murder of the Black Dahlia. There was an article in my last Gothic Beauty of a Black Dahlia movie which had stuck in my mind as being of poor quality. I was particularly struck by the fact that it never explained much about the Black Dahlia, though perhaps she's a gothic staple. Since I gave up on submitting a resume to Gothic Beauty I think the article stuck in my mind for whatever reason, and I did end up having a dre

What if I were sitting on a vast lawn that was so green and the air so humid I felt the world to be wet, if across the street a church clock was chiming the hours. What if the square were sleepy, nearly-empty. What if my daily business were calm and done with great care. There is such a place, there are such things, Yet here I am. And somewhere there are drowsy fields, like those I wandered through twelve years ago from the beginning of summer to its very end, grasshoppers clinging to me. Believe me, I am doing all I can to make life beautiful.

Tonight I wrote up three journal entries to go with three photographs I am considering sending to Life Images. I did this after I opened my "How to Write a Resume" articles, added my name and address to the top of a Word document and tried desperately to squeeze some writerly credentials out of my twenty nine years of existence. How do you become a writer when you have to be a writer to be a writer? That's one for Alice's smoking caterpillar, right up there with, "Who are you?" As I looked over my photos for this past year I was really surprised. I have felt like I have done nothing, but actually I have done, or at least sought, a great deal. After our weekend in Fredericksburg there are many photos of cooking and housekeeping endeavors. What would it mean to say that homemaking has become one of the most important things in my life? That cooking or sewing are indulgences that carry no sting or leave no regret, not the barest trace?

On the tops of our trees over the balcony you can see the pale green of new growth.

"Thank you, Miss Eliot. May I have a list of your references?" In the stress of the situation Cassandra was overdoing everything. She had checked her portfolio three times that morning to assure herself of its contents, and now she withdrew one of five copies with an exaggerated gesture. Dr. Thorn tipped up her deeply-tinted glasses to look over the page, then returned them to her nose. "Two are my fellow faculty members. Very nice, Miss Eliot." She was so calm, so business-like, Cassandra's mind flew ahead to the future, imagining working with Dr. Thorn and discovering the real person, if there were one. Dr. Thorn was every bit as cold and more intimidating than Cassandra had imagined, and she was glad she had overprepared for her interview, as it had given her more confidence. She felt a stunned reprieve when she realized Dr. Thorn was closing their interview. She shook hands with Cassandra and smiled with a limited degree of warmth. "You are a promising

It has been ages since I have sat in here by myself! I have really missed it. I have to work tomorrow. I can't believe it. I am already compiling a list of things to do to counterbalance that: - Sew striped placemat set - Do my photo cube shoot - Wear my Innocent World dress, at least if we go out somewhere

Sunday I made some beer cheese that has to ferment in the refrigerator for five days, and tomorrow it will be ready to eat.

so I can make sure I understand. I need to be true to myself. I do not need to put up with someone else making me uncomfortable or offering me friendship with the occasional pricking thorn. I need to have boundaries. I am okay with being alone for a while. I don't bring out the best in others, but that's not necessarily a bad thing. Would it be true friendship if I never knew you took some consolation in my slight ugliness? I would rather be alone in that case. I'd rather read Christina Rossetti. It is my fate to feel like I am doing something wrong when I stand up for myself. Last week I felt guilty. This week is no different. Bring it on, then. I am still standing. Alone. I ate Chinese food with my co-workers yesterday, and that was fun. It was good to be un-alone for a while. My heart is so sad. Let it be sad, then. Let me feel what is really happening to me. Let me see the world around me, and let me call it as it really is. I would rather that than build a feeling on l

"My last summer internship was spent in a veterinary clinic specializing in horses. We restrained the animals with special harnesses before their exams." "Of course. And did you ever tranquilize the animals?" "In one case, an animal had to be tranquilized. I prepared the fluid according to the doctor's instructions, but I did not tranquilize the animal." "Have you worked with animals besides horses?" "There were other animals admitted to the clinic, dogs and cats." "Describe your level of experience in handling difficult animals." Dr. Thorn's questions were so rapid-fire Cassandra barely drank her masala coffee, keeping it in a tight grip in one hand. "I am competent at handling large or difficult animals. I have a good sense about what frightens or hurts them and can minimize their stress without much restraint." Dr. Thorn regarded Cassandra thoughtfully. With regard to appearance, Cassandra might have made

This is their second summer with me.

Daily rituals: when you create a ritual you are a poet in your own life. Manicuring, painting nails. This should be fun, but I can't stand doing it. I need to buy some more exciting nail accessories, like sparkling top coat, or top coat with decals. Bathing. I dislike the harsh overhead lighting. I'm still seeking an ambient lighting solution. Cleaning house. Today I put the cleaning solutions in an old gift bag, and I'm not going to keep the solutions and rags under the sink any more, because they get cruddy, and they're already gross anyway. I have some pretty purple cleaning gloves, an apron, and I need to tie my hair up for that. Cleaning kitchen. This would happen ideally every day, after dinner, when I don't feel like doing anything else. I would like to program in a time around 8 p.m. to get the home in order before I start getting ready for bed so that clutter doesn't accumulate every week. Cooking. Spending some time preparing, like

I don't know whose toes those are.

Cassandra accepted the masale coffee from his outstretched hand gratefully, inhaling the mingled spices of cardamom and cloves. At the other end of the room she noticed a pale, dark-haired woman she had not seen before, and her heart gave a leap. She knew by the woman's regal bearing and elegant clothing that she had a very good chance of being Dr. Thorn, Cassandra's prospective employer. Confirming her belief, the woman looked up at Cassandra attentively for a moment, then rose. Clutching her coffee mug with both hands, Cassandra moved hastily across the room, then extended one hand in greeting. "Dr. Thorn? I'm Cassandra Eliot." "Miss Eliot. A pleasure." Dr. Thorn shook her hand and nodded briefly, as composed and objective as Cassandra had imagined she would be. Dr. Thorn had purchased no coffee or breakfast bun for herself. On the table before her were Cassandra's resume, a tablet, and a heavy, somewhat old-fashioned pen. "Miss Eliot, your un

Saturday Jonah got his beak and nails trimmed. He was so good!

) What author do you own the most books by? Barbara Cartland 2) What book do you own the most copies of? I don't have more than one copy of anything. 3) Did it bother you that both those questions ended with prepositions? Even though I read someone else's answers first, I still didn't notice. 4) What fictional character most fascinates you? Quentin Compson, from The Sound and the Fury and other works by Faulkner. 5) What book have you read the most times in your life? Gothic Tales, ed. Chris Baldick. 6) What was your favorite book when you were ten years old? Wait till Helen Comes, by Mary Downing Hahn. I still really love it. 7) What is the worst book you've read in the past year? The Vision of Desire, by Margaret Pedlar. 8) What is the best book you've read in the past year? Villette, by Charlotte Bronte. 9) Brits or Americans? I love British literature up to the 1850's, and then after that I mostly prefer American. 10) Who deserves to win the next Nobel Prize

It raged all night, and still it rages. What a dark time it is as I have to grapple with things painful and beyond my control, alone. I decided to start going out on my breaks again to recreate a private and creative space for myself, but the storm prevents the very first step of my resolution. I felt that God was with me last night. After a sleepless and stress-filled night I found that the thunder and lightning were immense and that I should sleep another hour. Despite my stress I did sleep, and I feel better than I would have. I know that God is not in the storm or the fires, but God is the still small voice guiding me to do the right thing with what I have, if I let him. I did wake with enough rest and strength. I have enough composure to get through the day. And no, it isn't about the wretched house. If I was enough of a spoiled brat to get so deeply distressed about that problem I wouldn't expect anyone, especially God, to care.

Cassandra attempted to shrug off the tight hold her nerves kept. "I have a job interview in a few minutes, actually." "Well, good luck with that." "Thanks." Cassandra looked at the coffee he was making for her, wishing he could imbue it with a double shot of extra confidence. "It's really important to me. I am great admirer of this person's work." "Your interview is here?" Cassandra nodded. "Why don't you come by and tell me how it went, okay? I'll be rooting for you. Oh, and-" He passed her a small paper-wrapped object. "Teddy bear cookie for you on the house." "Thanks." Cassandra gave a dazed laugh. "I may save that for later." "Seriously." He cast her a direct gaze. "Let me know how it went."

Bees remind me of Mary Kay. Sometimes I miss working at Mary Kay. I don't know why. Yeah, I do. I miss her spirit.

Cassandra stepped into a coffee shop that was cool and dark in contrast to the blinding light outside. The odors of coffee and fresh pastries wafted even through the doorway with each swing of the door to the patrons at rest in the patio chairs outside. She needed a moment to collect herself before her big interview. She stepped up to the coffee bar and met the gaze of a tall, slender man with long, pale hair and sea-green eyes. He gazed back at her penetratingly for a moment before he collected himself to take her order. Cassandra realized with a slightly dazed feeling that he wasn't human. Could this be one of the angels rumored to be colonizing Cristalle? She tried not to pay any more note to him and focused herself on her order. As she scanned over the daily offerings she was filled with self-doubt, derived probably from her pending interview with a great idol of hers. She had no idea if her coffee order should say something about her, be the opposite of all that she was, be pa

I uploaded to my Flickr for the first time in three years! I think I may start using it again. I don't know. Winter Light is ugly again! I trashed up my web style too much with random stuff so I cleared it all back to a default template. One of my users says she got a virus warning from my page. I hope this clears up the problem till I get around to redesigning my site again.

I do believe there are some human beings so born, so reared, so guided from a soft cradle to a calm and late grave, that no excessive suffering penetrates their lot, and no tempestuous blackness overcasts their journey. There are times when I feel these words to my very soul. I think I was inspired by Villette a little in Red Rose . Bronte does not hold back on throwing every torture possible upon Lucy from the beginning of the story to the end, so that this passage, in itself cradled amidst her inner torments is wrought with great feeling. I am a dark soul like Lucy, and I feel these words to my very soul sometimes during the day as I listen to others in what is perhaps a bout of self-indulgent self-tragedy.

(Written last Wednesday.) I keep trying to express my feelings, but they only grow stranger. A tangled web of longing and horror, a three-fold reaction to my surroundings, my life and all that I am. It is such an intense thing I am feeling, oh, I wish I could get it out. I am stifled and too free at the same time. I am longing for the past, for darling dolls and being free and creative and to have life be so effortless. I long for that. I long for what wasn't real! A new chapter in my life. I am at the very threshold. I am being driven to insanity by this long blank in which I can do nothing. I am not putting much more into our present home, because pretty soon we will do a thorough cleaning and be done with it, and I can't do anything for our future home except make curtains and placemats, but even as I do I am cautioned by experience that it is not our home yet, the place for which I am sewing, and something could happen. In addition to impatience I have a real fear.

I feel so much better than I thought I would this morning. Somehow my mood seems connected to something separate from the world around me today. I keep dreaming and planning. I felt down last night because I looked through cookbooks all evening and felt no inspiration for the weekend. However this morning I realized I need to make koch kasses. I have several recipes. The beer cheese will cure for a few days, but the Swiss we can have Saturday. It is so joyful for me to be able to make food connected to my ancestry. The Irish and German both. I have been loving lilting Irish carols lately. I also am thinking of making a Christmas journal. Christmas is important to me, an emotional time, and I feel like I never quite do what I mean to do, so I want to write out all the things I want to do for Christmas so I can live it more fully. Today is crazy. On top of having some special visitors, my deadline is, well, right now. I deleted a line in my program yesterday which proved fatal to last ni

On the way to McDonalds to get iced coffee I received vision for the new A Question of Honor. I am really excited about this revision. It will be easier than the gothic novel, which doesn't have a name anymore, because the structure is sound. I am inserting two different characters in the same situation, and it should be a much better fit. Yesterday I made placemats and napkins. I have enough fabric for two more of each and two tea towels. I am so busy this morning, and sewing all day yesterday left me tired this morning. I have so much to do I can't believe it, and here I have story inspiration, sewing project to finish, home planning. Maybe take a day off pretty soon? Once I get what I need to do done at work, a little holiday for writing and sewing.