i think

i may have to start a different blog for my political material... because i actually want people to read it.

regardless.

a working class rant:
today as i walked to my high rise office building in the embarcadero district of san francisco, surrounded by the bay itself, views of oakland and the bay bridge, expensive places to buy food and fancy florists I passed charles schwab windows emblazoned with the clever slogans of their campaigns focused on getting everyday folks to invest their money in something with charles schwab

one of these slogans reads "planning for your retirement? or hoping to?"

everytime I see that fucking slogan i think about my father. yes, he was downwardly mobile; yes, he is self-employed; yes, he hates bosses and taxes and you, if you cut in line. my daddy was hoping to plan for his retirement, but that's not how things went. instead, a series of events determined our descent from the working class to the poor, where desperation became a member of the family.

it started when a roof he repaired in palm springs leaked when it rained, of all the ironic things, and they sued the pants off of him; his truck full of tools was stolen; an economic crash leveled the real estate economy, which made work extremely difficult to find for a self-employed residential remodeler. Daddy has always, on top of these new circumstances, systematically and unabashedly undervalued his carpentry. We lost our house and almost everything we owned and moved in with his new girlfriend and my to-be forever stepmother, Alyce. Now he owns nothing, has nothing, lives from job to job, check to check.

He is 60 now. After 40+ years of heavy manual labor, not to mention a few good bone-breaking and back-snapping beatings over the course of his exciting life, his body feels every movement and shift. still and yet he shoulders rolls of tar papers and stepladders up to second and third story roofs through creaky hips and achy knees.

daddy, why don't you hire some folks and just be the head contractor guy? you're too skilled and too old to be doing this shit anymore.

i don't want to stop working. i love working, audrey. working defines me as a man, its my art. i can't imagine my life without work. i'm gonna work until i die. that's what i want to do. you're gonna have to get used to that. anyway, i can't trust anyone to produce the quality of work that i do for my clients.

but daddy, you're just going to die sooner if you do that. and that's not fair to me or zack or jay.

it's my life. i will do with it what i want. if i don't want to live without working then you should respect that. anyway, what would i do for money?

zack and jay and i would figure that out, papa. just because it's hard to think about not working doesn't mean you should do it til you die, for fuck's sake.

i don't know, babe.

Subtext: I don't have any money, i'm afraid to be a burden on my kids, and i have no idea what i would do with my time if i didn't work so hard everyday that I was exhausted.

What would you do, charles schwab? are you gonna take money that doesn't exist because of the machinations of a manipulated economy and destructive patriarchy and invest it in a market that systematically exploits people like my father? no. you'll just make it seem like its accessible, promote the possibility... and bring up feelings of resentment each day as I walk to work.

i have never

felt this consistently sad. i thought i could defeat it by riding in this morning, but i still feel the weight of a simple, consistent sadness, regardless of the adrenaline encouraged by speeding through downtown on my bicycle. it's not a depression, it is almost like a constant reality check, calling me to notice the seedy and exploitive nature of life over the glorious and joyful aspects i had become so accustomed to.

there are many differences, i suppose, in the way my life was and the way my life has manifested currently. my community is far less cohesive; i am older, and noticing it; i do not love what i am doing; i am not organizing; i am not really dating; i am not getting as many sessions. while it is true that I am making steps to change these things (very actively pursuing other jobs, emailing orgs to volunteer with them, hanging out with awesome folks and investing in longterm relationships, getting sessions on my feelings about dating and abandonment) i am still struggling with the decision to realize my joy as a human being in the world. Anxiety is my contemporary bedfellow.

In the aims of being more intentional in addressing my current selfhate and other outcroppings of negativity, below i list the aspects of my life and myself that i love right now:
- my housemates
- david
- amy
- kate
- laura
- my new sf friends: amy, sarah, eric, nicole, mikael, angela, susie, benny boy, amaris, bre, and many more
- my new sf co-counselors: syd, jim, adam, mark, kristen
- the opportunities that are presenting themselves, aka, the unions and other organizing opportunities
- my commitment to getting involved in prison abolishment/addressing the criminal justice system
- how i notice my own restimulation and pay attention to how that effects me and my relationships; how I pursue my own healing, even in the smallest ways.
- my neighborhood, my local coffeeshop, my local bars, the grocery stores, the culture, the food, the transportation
- riding my bike up hills
- riding my bike down hills
- cuddling with friends new and old; revealing myself in my developing relationships
- talking on the phone with laura
- living near golden gate park
- my back porch
- getting my finances in order...

argh. with every one of these there seems to be a corresponding negative aspect that drags it all down. I do want to even out and be committed to joy and happiness in my life. i feel afraid sometimes that all of this is what life really is, sad and lonely and overwhelming with a downhill trajectory...

what the fuck

is up with these ups and downs? Yesterday, everything was golden, life was good, i was on the fast track to new and different things in my life. Today it feels as though I am carrying a load of bricks.

Ah, I see. Yesterday I wasn't at work. Today I was there all day. There must be some correllation. Yuck-eeee.

well

we finally did it. we signed the papers, the four of us, soon to be seven-- taking action so many months later, but action that I feel necessary, even now.

what am i looking for? achieving greatness- whatever that may mean, and in my context it means several things:
- ending oppression;
- building a sustainable movement for liberation;
- building close and loving relationships with the people in my life;
- building a diverse community around me;
- consistently being reflective about my internalized processes that continue to victimize me and oppress people around me;
- educating myself constantly about the state of the world and those in it, especially the effects of the imperialist force i live within and my complicity in that imperialism;
- loving completely every person i come into contact with throughout each moment of my day while remaining strong and advocating for myself.

I will achieve my goals; Tia once put in a card to me, for some occasion, that she was confident that I would "never lead a mediocre life." I hope that she is correct, and honestly, i am striving to prove that she is. Perhaps it is almost that expectation that drives me to fulfill it. How awful to have had such a shiny future predicted for you and end up toothless in a trailer park with only cigarettes and vodka to accompany your tragedy.

There are so many decisions I need to make right now, and directions I could push. Each one has a different outcome, and I am having a hard time thinking strategically about this; I can plan a campaign, but i have a hard time predicting the most fruitful/liberating/revolutionary set of moves for my life. This chessgame is far more complicated, and there is so much more at stake.

Here i am, at the crossroads.

is the answer

to just mess around with people who are completely uninteresting and not attractive?

I can beat this. My new goal: achieving greatness for myself, whatever that means for me right now... living for me.

horrible news

during a nice long session yesterday my very pleasant counselor suggested that it was more important for me to work on the abandonment issues incurred by my mother than to be in a relationship-- and that I should prioritize the former over the latter.

I think he suggested that I could have sex, but that a relationship would be too much for me right now. and interestingly enough, the dude is correct. I can't see my way through my abandonment issues right now- and need some time and space from any committed romantic entanglement. I'm simply not sure if i can have sex in this state- because i'm tired of disconnected sex, and anything tender and vulnerable triggers the hell outta me right now. argh.

Well, i suppose knowing is part of the battle, at least.

i realized

that really what is important to me is that i not become embroiled in another co-dependent situation. I love my life and want to focus on my career and myself- and be committed to my personal and political growth. I notice that I have a tendency to think obsessively about lovers, possible lovers, relationships, possible relationships-- I really would rather not, thanks. Especially during weeks like this, where i have high stakes deadlines to attend to.

I figure-- if I devote that time spent thinking about love/relationships/lovers to liberation and political thinking/work, then I would be one damn together woman. Sounds great, huh? I have to implement some kate strategies: only see folks once/month, other sorts of things...

I have to get involved in prison abolishment. now.

i forgot

how much i love that skin on skin interaction
tenderness pleasant and rejuvenating
deciding to be intimate regardless of familiarity
is a deeply connecting decision

i had great fun

and the more wonderful thing is that i am not feeling desperate or overwhelmed with emotion/need/etc., i enjoyed the sex, being in bed all morning, bike riding, eating together, connecting at the park

and although it seems like more would be fun
i have no deep seated need or expectation for more

which, if you have seen my machinations and flailings listed so vulnerably below
is a great relief for me.

There is another aspect of this, however--
I have been relatively laissez-faire in regards to whom I date/spend time with/get into relationships with in the past; it seems more important now to be discerning, and date folks with whom it seems reasonable/feasible to be in a possible lifelong partnership. Babytime might be nearing and stability looks more appealing. If i am going to start dating then I am dating with an actual objective. Different than before, indeed. Very different.

you know

that i imagine you so often now that you have become almost like a ghost beside me, memories of you always present

you standing in front of me, sweatshirt hood over your shaved head, brooding over your mail in our old kitchen where the sun came in through so many open windows, your soft fingers finding the edges of envelopes just like they find those spots on my body that scream for you, i can imagine the softness of that sweatshirt against my face as we leaned against each other just because we're in love

you looking at the road through the windshield of that red jeep, your profile solid against the background of the moving scenery, our hands entwined as we travelled toward the grocery store running innocuous errands, planning meals because it was fun to think about what to eat together in our shared living room

my hands against your bare chest as we lay in bed

debating heatedly radical race & gender politics

you over me, my hands on your face as i breathe your name

me crying as fear courses through me, a possible interaction with the pigs rattling me, the stress of maintaining our home crashing down on me, your mother screaming at me, your back as you walk out the door, apologetic eyes pleading with me, acknowledging me, loving me even in your anger

i didn't know that i was so in love

and now i can't express my longing enough

today is the day

i start something. that i move forward. today is the day that i decide that i love writing again, that i commit to writing again, that now is the day for the final decision, that i finally write it, that book about me that makes no sense and all the sense in the world all the sense for moving forward that I need right now

if i am going to read i have to read for something, for writing, for talk, for connecting with others who are thinking about it too. without the expression of this bottled up something it is becoming a dead lead weight in me draining me drowning me unexpectedly

i never did expect to feel this way, going numb, feeling dumb, feeling abandoned.

i don't know

what to do with jealousy. i don't understand it, it is destructive, both to the immediate relationship and those surrounding. so unfortunate that we have internalized capitalism so as to destroy ourselves with sentiments of ownership over others, imbued with the same desperation with which we hunger after material goods

only magnified by one thousand

remember

scamming? for those of us born in the early 80's and subject to the grunge era in our adolescence, scamming was tight, scandalous, sexy, fun. Tantalizing. Illicit. Tacitly heterosexual-- I would never describe any of my early sexual explorations with other girls as scamming. Exploitive, particularly on the part of the boys, whose focus on scamming was more vehement, focused, insistent than the girls.

For us young ladies, it was this strange invasion; both welcome and reviled, exciting and disgusting; that hardened part of a boy rubbing up against a your leg, or even more fascinating, against that part of you suddenly softened by an unfamiliar heat. I have a comical and slightly frightening memory of being at Josh's house with my friend Melissa when I was 13. Melissa and Josh were "going out," and were sleeping together-- she was 13 and very physically developed, he was 17 and a traditionally immature teenage dude.

It was a summer day, bright and hot in the little Los Angeles suburb where I was raised. We had walked to Josh's from Melissa's, a good three mile trek. She disappeared into his bedroom after we drank beer on the front deck and smoked joints in the living room of Josh's and his little brother's house. Josh's room was furnished with a bunkbed and mismatched comforters. Imagine having sex in a bunkbed. It was probably more comfortable at 13 than it would be at 27.

His little brother was seedy and crass in that gross, desperate teenage way; a dirty little 'stache, messy jeans and hair, red rimmed stoner eyes. He was a boy to avoid, as evidenced by his name-- it was danny, or johnny, something -nny, a diminutive version of his given name, and he was a smaller, less attractive version of his brother Josh. That day he was set on getting at me- from the minute Melissa and I arrived he was working whatever he could to touch me, handle me, kiss me, fondle me.

Something we knew that we should be defending against while also inviting it; that was the only respectable way to go. If one went to far when scamming it could turn against you, your reputation wasn't exactly ruined in that 50's sense, but you were making yourself vulnerable to the pushy expectations of too many young, overzealous teenage boys. That's what Melissa had to fend off, and I was not going to open up that box.

what i think about

before i fall asleep, the things that keep me awake, the things that haunt me

- jp and the impact his presence and absence has made, the ensuing self hate, etc., including how shitty i feel about him now-- and how shitty that fact makes me feel. Fuck.
- the 600+ i owe psu
- my cc debt of 5000 and my school debt of 30,000. omg that seems HUGE sometimes...
- how i am nearly goddamned 27 and still a goddamned assistant
- that I am aging and falling and i am not taking care of my body-- i consistently overeat and damned if I am gonna get cuter, it's all downhill from here and it feels like i'm not doing enough about it...
- i never write anymore and it is fucking KILLING ME. I don't even have a place to write. I am tempted to become a goddamned junkie or methhead again so that I can find some sort of painfully motivated place-- I need SOMETHING, goddamnit, it seems that my emotional pain isn't fucking enough anymore
- my detachment from my brothers
- my lack of spiritual practice. that leaves me empty and wanting, reminds me of a time when I would meditate for calm and energy, meditate constantly-- it was a good period.

What the hell do I need? I am working on letting go of jp-- and his shit-- and allowing that connection to be in the past. Forever. Sadly, but completely, I hope.

I need to be ok with my debt, because it isn't going anywhere anytime soon.

My body needs exercise and attention, and I can give it both things in plenty-- I will just institute a regimen and stick to it, and remember what to eat. And what not to eat. Eating for total health is my new goal-- and not overeating; allowing myself to get hungry and eating to sate that hunger, not to forget or anaesthetize.

I can have the will to write, and I MAKE THE DECISION NOW to do it daily. If it is just a page in my diary, so be it-- I can extend that to a million other places, particularly if I prioritize it.

Meditation is not that hard. Starting tomorrow, I will sit for 5 minutes in the morning and 5 in the eve. When I feel stressed or overtired, I will find a place to do some fire breathing during the day, as well.

Argh. I want to change my life, starting NOW. Here are some of my intentions-- easily accessible as reminders.

yeah

so

thanks, i suppose. um. i am learning a lesson here-- what have I done to other people? i wonder.

and

i'm not going to moon over you any longer-- I will continue to love you as a person, and I will not continue to wait for you to love me. I can't wait for you to love yourself.

You are ambitious, creative, compassionate, interesting, intellectual, hilarious, challenging... which is why it is so hard to say goodbye. We are both these things, and we met in a beautiful space between us, a sacred and loving space where two spirits intertwined

i'm sorry you weren't ready for me, darling.

it makes me completely sad

that i have to truly say goodbye to you. I never expected you to drop off, to stop connecting completely-- and damn, my heart has more broken under the prospect of your turning away absolutely from our connection than it ever did to stop dating you.

I am struggling to internalize that it is not my fault that you are behaving this way. It is not me, my body, my face, my intelligence; being ignored by you, however, is one of the most painful things that has happened in my life... for a while. And it just continues to ache. And I just continue to blame myself and see an ugly person in the mirror

a person who didn't deserve you

and it makes me hate us

i can't handle

myself sometimes. i got hit in the eye. i don't want to talk to anyone. i want to lay in my bed and be nothing and nobody and pretend that nothing happened that was STUPID last night, like me processing way too much and sending stupid texts and being a fucking asshole.

I DRINK LIKE AN ASSHOLE

CANT HANDLE IT ANYMORE

hello

me. i've been all over, emotionally. lately. yeah. hi, everyone, i'm getting better. i'm coming back, and i never expected to be taken so, so far away...

hello, me.

my daddy always said

that we have the control over the way we feel about things and events in our lives; I have been feeling particularly out of control lately, and not in a positive way.

I am making the decision today to be happy about my job, to be content with my singularity and happy for the people I care about in my life. I want to interact with every person with acceptance, dignity and care. I believe in myself, and today will be an example of this.

and though i continue to notice your absence i am relieved to have decided that this thing is in your hands, as i will pursue my own liberation

plenty capable hands they are

my god

where am i going and what am i doing

you haunt me and i want it to stop i let tonight go and i am both dying and thanking myself

is this what life is? i feel like i am going to go numb, lose all feeling soon, and my body and mind are struggling to maintain sensation, so i am just stuck in feelings and hurt and anxiety and passion and excitement and selfloathing and

all of it

where can i go for help? It feels like i am lost and loose and i have not felt so untethered in years. Portland was my cradle, I was bundled there, and here...

Do i need help? or is everything fine? am i looking for that frantic pace that I felt in college and simply adjusting? is the absence of you- and you- and you- and you- finally beginning to take its toll?

two faces haunt me. neither passed, simply gone from my life in any substantial fashion. both leave deep wounds, one less expected than the other.

i thought that three months would be enough. Where I am now, however, if at all an indicator for almost 1/3 of the way there, I am nowhere near bandaged enough to stop bleeding all over the people around me. I don't even feel presentable at a bar, in a restaurant, i feel young and stupid and too sincere for my own damn good