Ten Things about Me

It will be a busy couple of days, so I think I'll post some fun facts!
1. I do not have toenails on my big toes. They were removed when I was 18 due to ingrown infections. I had the infections for years and once the nails were gone, my live improved dramatically.

2. I have a tattoo of a flower on my hand. To this day, I still love it.

3. I sleep with a lot of pillows on the bed. This is a sleep apnea thing. Okay, it's also a fat thing. If you're fat and poor and can't afford a good mattress, placing a lot of pillows around you will help to keep you comfortable.

4. My mother was 19 when she had me. I wasn't planned and she didn't want me.  

5. I have owned pets all of my life but I have never paid for one. I am a stray and I pick up strays.

6. I spend a lot of time rolling balls of yarn.

7. My commitment to this blog is probably about as committed as I am to anything. And as you know, I'm sometimes shocked that I've kept the commitment this long.

8. I am obsessed with house plans . I have books of them and frequently look at them online. Mind you, I rarely find any that I see as practical.

9. I can go years without talking to people but still feel very close to them. Sometimes people think I'm avoiding them, but I'm not. If I haven't talked to you in years, you're still a great friend as far as I am concerned.

10. I find both comfort and amusement in nature, but I don't want to be out in it. I like to watch birds. I like to watch insects. I even enjoy watching the wind blow through the trees. I just have no interest in being out there with it.

The Shawl

So this is a pic of the finished shawl. It ended up being almost three skeins of yarn because I needed to add a whole other level to it. It was supposed to end with a line of six skulls, but that didn't fit me well. I wasn't going to make something this complicated and have it not fit me. That would have been sad and annoying. So I stuck it out to make another round. By the end, I was feeling kind of frazzled. As you can see, once you get through half of one row of skulls, you have to start on the next. Doing 13 skulls at once (the row of six and row of 7) was pretty complicated.

In the end, it was really worth it on a lot of levels. For one thing, I now own a shawl made of skulls. Like with a lot of things, at my size, pretty much the only way that was going to happen was if I made it myself. The shawl is not only awesome to look at, it's also practical. You'd be amazed at how warm something with that many holes in it can be.

More importantly, I took on the most complex project I've ever done. And while it's remarkable that I actually had the confidence to think I could do it, it's even more remarkable that I stuck with it. So often, I sabotage myself by just not sticking to the task at hand. Most of the time when I screw myself over, it's because of that. This time, I never gave it. I mean, it helps that it was only less than a week's worth of work, but sometimes even those things won't get finished.

In the end, I have a great shawl and feel like maybe I have enough experience points to get to the next level of crocheter.  I probably also have enough experience points to get to the next level of crotchetier!

The First Sighting of the Year

One of the things my roommate and I always like to document during the summer is the various dragonflies we see. They're one of my favorite aspects of the summer months. I also like fireflies a lot, but in recent years, we've seen less of those. In fact, this is the first year we've seen them in a long while. It was also the first year we didn't see any dragonflies. It concerned us both, though honestly, we were outside less than we were last year.

Yesterday, though, I saw my first dragonfly of the year. Not only was it neat to finally see one, it was a color I'd never seen before. I was waiting for him to leave the store and saw it fluttering near the car beside me. It was cinnamon with a metallic sheen. It honestly looked like a steampunk dragonfly. It hovered near me for a few minutes and then flew away. I couldn't help but smile because it made it feel like the season was completed for me. I'm very thankful that I saw it.

I know a lot of people who are lonely and feel like their lives are really on the fringe of society. And while I'm not the biggest nature lover out there, over the years I've learned that finding a connection with the world outside of the house can sometimes go a long way toward helping lonely and disconnected people feel like they are part of something. The dragonflies, the seasonal flowers, and the changes in the trees are part of my ongoing story.

I even enjoy the trashtalking birds ho fight over fries in the parking lot.

Walking Away

There is a movement among men now to live their lives in a way where they avoid women as much as possible. They say they do this in a response to their anger at feminism. Typically any time women gain more rights, there are men who react this way. I'm going to talk about this and I want you to understand that nothing I'm going to say is meant as snide or sarcastic.

Not that they care what I think (because I'm a woman), but I am perfectly fine with this choice. One of the problems I've always had with misogynists is that while they hate women, they still seemed to want us around. These people may dislike women, but at least they're not trying to involve us in the matter. I think that's far less horrible than the people who want to trick, force, or legally bind us into submission.

Beyond that, I'm not going to fault these people for having problems with specific women. I don't know their histories or what has happened to them. Women can be cruel, just as men can be cruel. As humans, it's something we're all capable of. People sometimes have such horrible experiences with people of the other gender that they really can't stand to be near any of them.

Besides, I'm someone who has organized her life in such a way that unless it's a family member or the husband of a close friend, I basically avoid all straight men. During my childhood, I had to deal with quite a few of them that caused me a lot of harm.  I don't enjoy the energy that most of them bring into situations. All in all, my life is better without them. There are some exceptions, but those are very few.

That isn't to say that I hate them. I don't wish death on all of them. I don't want them  to be abused by society or the government. I hope that, in general, they have nice and fulfilling lives where they are happy, loved, and safe.  I just mostly want them to do that somewhere far away from me.

So yeah, as far as I am concerned if these men wish to live their lives with as little contact with women as possible, so be it. If this can be done in a peaceful way where no one is harmed (and it can be done), then new patterns of society may be found. Who knows? We might actually see same-sex marriages between people who are otherwise heterosexual but find companionship and family with people of their own gender.

Project Progress

Holiday project is going well. If I decide to stick to the pattern's size, I'll be finished tomorrow. Otherwise, it will end up being Saturday. The pattern is complicated, but it's also a lot of fun. Honestly, this is the most fun I've ever had working on a crochet project. It's been really great. Once I'm finished with this, I have a couple more things to do for my holiday stuff and then I'm going to work on a few Christmas gifts. Past that, I'll tackle that jacket.

Have I put the jacket off? Yes, I totally did. I was supposed to start it last weekend, but last weekend got really stressful because of the computer issues. Working on the jacket required more created spoons than I possessed. I was going to have to adapt a pattern and I just didn't have that in me. The project I worked on instead, while complex, is already planned out. All I had to do was follow instructions.

Kinda beta of me, huh? You know what? I do not care. People get so obsessed striving to be the alpha. Whatever. Alphas are very, very few and far between. And honestly, all of us have moments, depending in the situations, of being the alpha from time to time. Other times, we fill other roles and other places. Why be resentful of the moments when you just follow the instructions and let your mind have some rest? Sometimes it's nice just to let your hands work while your mind is healing.

Headaches

Oh man, my sinuses are killing me right now. The only thing keeping me dying completely is hot tea and cinnamon bits. Normally Fall sinus stuff wouldn't be so bad, but it's also sticky and muggy because the weather won't completely cool down. It's staying in the high 80s, which is better than the high 90s, but still. I'd like a nice cool Fall but that just may not happen.

I'm working on probably one of the more complex things I've crocheted. It's not the jacket yet. I was too stressed out this weekend and couldn't deal with the jacket thing. Instead, I'm doing a Halloween project and it is going to be awesome. Hopefully I'll feel well enough to finish it in a timely manner.

Pro-What Now?

I wasn' really searching out these articles today, but people kept posting them and I found myself reading them. Both have to do with the mixed messages sent by the pro-life movement. The first one I read (which I don't have a link to) was from a woman who has children of her own, as well as several foster children. She believes that being pro-life means supporting the children who are already here, as well as their parents. She is amazed at how many people claim to be pro-life, but sneer and judge anyone who has more children than they deem to be acceptable.

This article brings up so many points about the Pro-life movement. The author used to be pro-life, but over time, her perspective on things has changed. She is still an advocate for abortion prevention but feels the pro-life movement is less about saving babies and more about controlling/punishing women. There is always a counter-intuitive element to what they scream about, what they support and what they don't.

In light of the ban on Planned Parenthood, I think it's important to keep in mind that making abortion illegal does nothing to stop the rates of abortion in a country. All it usually does is cause more deaths and complications on the women who seek them because they have to do so in less than ideal circumstances. It's been proven that two things lower abortion rates. The first thing is having easy and cheap access to birth control. Less unplanned pregnancy means less abortions. And yet, many people who oppose abortion oppose this measure that often lowers the rates of it.

The other measure that lowers the abortion rate is financial stability. The more women believe they can financially secure a future for their child, the more likely they are to have that child. When programs are in place to ensure a safety net if things go bad, safe and affordable child care, and longer maternity leaves, then abortions are less likely. And yet, these programs are often opposed by the pro-life movement.

I'm not trying to tell anyone how to believe, but if you believe life begins before birth and that if someone gets pregnant,  they should have the baby, then perhaps you should also consider the research on what actually lowers abortion rates instead of just following along with the movement.

The Saga Continues

We're still having problems with the whole modem/router/computers talking to each other saga. A tech is coming on Monday and hopefully he'll have a solution. Things are working just fine for me, but not so much for my roommate. Right now, he's trying to operate off of an old laptop that only marginally works. We'll see what the tech can accomplish. I just hope he doesn't make things worse.

Beyond that, the day was okay. I tried to make some plans, but they fell through. My allergies kept my eyes unfocused all day. I have my computer set to a really large size right now just so I can see. It's helping some, but not completely. Maybe I can sleep it off.

The Computer and its Bad Relationships

I'm not sure if it's the weather or what, but my eyes are really messed up today. I'm having trouble looking at the computer. Needless to say, this post will be brief. Actually,  this post almost didn't happen. Thankfully, my roommate is amazing at fixing computers and their various jerk friends. Seriously, none of the computers, the router, or the modem wanted to talk to each other tonight. He kept working with them until it happened.

On a related note, if you are fixing something for someone, and said someone (such as me) is incapable of fixing said thing, do not feel that you have to apologize for it going slowly, for trips having to be made, or for the fact that it doesn't work the first time. You're doing this person a favor. Whatever you have to do to make that happen is just part of the process. They should be grateful no matter what.

And I am.

Medical Whatnots

I woke up early this morning, showered, and went to the doctor. I was the only person in there, but it still took them forever to see me. I also had to pee in a cup and that is never fun. When they drew blood, I felt like I bled forever. By the time I had driven my roommate to Walmart, I felt really worn down. I dosed in the parking lot.

Overall, the doctor's visit went well. We talked about some things that need to happen by the end of the year and my concerns over them. My bloodwork was good. I'd been pretty nervous about the appointment, but I survived it fine. I assume from now on, any visit to any doctor is going to unnerve me. Thankfully, I have some therapy techniques to help with that.

Speaking of doctor's appointments, sometime in the near future, I need to get my eyes checked. I don't know if it's allergies or what, but my vision is pretty questionable today.

The Magic Bottle

When I was little, my step-grandmother kept a bottle of blue colored water in her guest bedroom. The bottle was covered with fake jewels, held on by glue. This was both the best thing and the worst thing in their house. It was the best thing because it was the foundation of most of my under-five-years-old games. It was the worst because the damned thing kept getting me into trouble.

I was so fascinated by this bottle. I pretended the blue water was a magic potion. I would change what it did depending on the game, but it was always vital and important. Each jewel on the bottle (a collection of broken costume jewelry earrings) was also magical, every one designed to protect the magic blue potion in a different way. I was always the only kid there when I would visit. My grandfather was never home and my step-grandmother had lots of stuff to do. I was left to entertain myself. The magic bottle was my usual entertainment.

Of course, as I noted, I was under five at the time and the jewels on the bottle were held on by glue. On more than one occasion, they would fall off. And every time they did, I would get into trouble. My step-grandmother would yell at me. Sometimes I would get swats.

And yet........................................she never actually moved the bottle out of my reach. There was a tallboy chest of drawers in the bedroom. She could have moved the damned blue bottle onto it, or into a closet, or any number of places where I couldn't reach, and the whole problem would have been solved. Also, as an adult, I'm wondering if there was some kind of sentimental value to this bottle because......................................it was a bottle with fake jewels and fake blue water. How expensive and important could this thing have been? Did it warrent swats? Really?

Yes, I still have a lot of feelings about this. And questions. The games were fun though.

Town Improvement

I went to therapy today and had to endure the sound of jackhammering the whole time. We had some level of buffering from it, but it was mostly constant. It seems they're going to reduce the sidewalks by two feet on each side in order to make more room for parking. Right now, the parking slots make the streets so narrow it's basically a one-way street.

As annoying as it was, I'm happy about it. It's been a while since we've seen a lot of town improvement. Budgets have been so restrictive lately that changes couldn't be made. Now that's starting to change and it's a good sign. The downtown streets were so horrible. It was honestly depressing to drive on them. They were patched up, but the patch job wasn't that great. Now, maybe, things will get better.

Lazy Day

The weather was decent today. I basically did not. Seriously. I didn't crochet or anything. The only productive thing I did was clean the cat box. Though, mainly, I think I did nothing because it was so nice. I just wanted to enjoy the weather and relax. Things seem to be cooling down and hopefully they'll stay there for a while.

I have a busy week ahead, including a doctor's appointment on Thursday morning. I am nervous about that, of course. I always am. Plus, this is only my second time seeing this provider. Last time I was so relieved she was decent that I may not have noticed any aspects of bad on her part. Maybe it will stay that way this time as well.

Fall Collection 2015

So this is the fall accessories collection. It shot a bit light, so imagine everything a shade or two darker than it looks here.   We have three hats, a large infinity scarf, a smaller infinity scarf, and a decorative micro scarf/necklace. Not pictured is a black bracelet and a headband in the lighter gray.

I think this collection if it had a name would be Lucky Finds. A lot of the genesis for this work is based on some odd things I found in the house and decided to use. I feel like the work I've done lately has had a real cohesion to it and I believe that is due to the finds.

The first item was a wooden N crochet hook of my grandmother's. It was in the house when we moved here, lurking about in her sewing stuff. It's larger than I ever work with, but I'm not one to toss away a good hook. For a long while, I didn't do anything with it. It's a long hook and I wasn't sure how much that might make my hands cramp. I tossed into the box where I keep the rest of my hooks and forgot I even had it. A few weeks ago, I found it again and decided to see what it could do.

As I've mentioned before, I had a stray ball of gray yarn that I wanted to put to use. It was the first thing I used the N hook on. The usual hat pattern had to be altred. Instead of doing a magic circle with 7-10 on it, all I could do was five. I won't tell you had many times I had to start over to realize this. Once I had the formula down though, I loved the pattern it created. Even on single crochet, it has a nice hole to it. With the exception of a few jewelry pieces, the N hook is the common theme with everything I've done so far.

The other lucky find was the yarn used to make the darker gray hat. I've had this yarn for years. It's been sitting in my room, in a catch-all box for about three of those years. At some point, something got on the yarn and bleached out a small section of it to a rusty orange.  Normally, this isn't my favorite color, but the yarn had enough blue in it to make it very pretty with those random spots of rust. That flaw turned this blah yarn into something very unique and beautiful. I think it's my favorite hat so far.

Anyway, I have a couple of requested projects I'll be doing, but other than that, the next thing I'm working on is a big step for me. I'm going to crochet a jacket. We'll...yeah. We'll see how that turns out.

Clutter

I have this shelf in my room where I keep my CDs. Yes, I still have CDs out . . . or I did. I had to put them up because the cat knocked the whole shelf down. I realized I'd  not listened to any of them in ages (mp3 player and YouTube keep me happy) and there was no point in keeping them out.

As I was packing them up, I looked at each CD and smiled at it. These are albums I absolutely love. Every one of those CDs has brought me hours of happiness. And now they're packed away with stray cassette mixtapes I can't force myself to get rid of. I still have some vinyl too. I might as well pack them because they never get any play. Technology has rendered my music into memories and clutter.

On an interesting note, I found this ball of yarn I'd tossed into a basket a few years ago. It's a dark bluish gray and thick. Water or something got on it and over the years it has created a bleached out area that looks like a rust stain. This is going to be one great hat!

The Fall

I watched Saving Mr. Banks, a movie by Disney about Disney making another movie. Yes, things have gotten that meta. Part of the movie takes place when Walt Disney is trying to get PL Travers to sign over the rights to Mary Poppins. She is a prickly prim and proper snit to him and everyone else. She makes people cry. There  isn't a lot of emotional drama about the situation because clearly you KNOW she'll give him the rights. That part of the movie is okay, but it's really just the same cat and mouse (no pun intended) game over and over again.

The other part of the movie is flashbacks of the months leading to Travers's father's death. Her father, Travers Goff, was an amazing man in some ways. He was fun and creative. He paid lots of attention to his children. In every way that we imagine men acting during the early 1900s, stoic, proper, reserved, he was the opposite. Travers possessed a charming and poetic personality. He was romantic and positive and tried to make everything into an adventure.

He was also a sloppy alcoholic and probably mentally ill.

When we see him, he's in that place that many addicts reach, the place people usually don't like to talk about. He knew he wouldn't stop. He knew he had ruined basically every chance he had at making a decent life for himself and his family. He knew he needed to stop drinking, but had finally accepted the truth that he wouldn't. It was a dark truth, but very much the only truth. The idea that he would sober up and live a normal upstanding life was a delusion he and everyone else around him bought into. Then one day, he didn't believe it any more, and just accepted that he would fall.

Actually, in this case, he literally did fall. He fell off a stage and broke his leg. He already had TB, so it was just a matter of time before he died. And while I'm sure he hated the idea of dying and hated leaving his family, I think part of him knew it was for the best.

This isn't a popular opinion, but I think it would almost be easier on everyone if we'd give addicts a certain time limit on their addictions. "Okay, if you don't stop _____ in 25 years, then we're just going to leave you alone and let it kill you." The agreement would be that the addicted people didn't have children during that time, that way no one innocent would get burned with them. If you're an adult who chooses to be around an addict and buys into their promises of recovery and reform, that's your own fault. How many times are they NOT going to stop shooting smack or NOT actually losing weight or NOT ending their gambling before you just accept that this is who they are and move on if you don't like it?

Some personalities just can't function in a sober and non-self-destructive way. I don't know why that is. I wish I do. Travers Goff was an amazing person. A lot of addicts are. Maybe some people just aren't destined to live very long.

Creative Blips

So I made this strap for a new phone holder. On one side, it didn't do what the pattern showed it would do. This annoyed me, but I accepted it. On the other side, it did exactly what it was supposed to do, meaning it's now uneven. Honestly though, this just seems to be the nature of things I make. It's all wonky. I think I should just accept that as part of who I am as a person.

Even still, it's been a fun process to be making things again. I think I'm finally over my noncreative slump. Once I finish with this, I have another project to work on, then I think I may tackle something bigger. In the meantime, I still think I should learn to sew. We have all this fabric collected up and it needs to serve a purpose. That purpose might as well be styling me.

I've been looking at clothing for women of my size online. Mind you, this stuff is expensive and far more than I can afford. But it still gives me some idea of what might work on me besides the usual black stuff I usually wear. Of cours, even  the stuff I make will probably mostly be black.

Fall Rain

Oh yay it finally rained. It's been on the verge of it for days. It finally happened and now maybe I can get a decent's night's sleep. At least, perhaps, I can get a cooler night's sleep. Even if I don't sleep better, that alone would help. I am completely ready for colder weather to happen.

And yes, I know people keep posting memes about snowdrifts and how much we'll all hate it when those happen again. And yes, the snow can be awful and it's rough to drive in. I get very scared when I drive in it, but so far, I've survived. Beyond that, it's just easier on me. I can put on more layers of clothing and warm. I can't keep removing layers to be cooler. If the power goes out, I still have blankets to pile on me. In the summer, if the power goes out, I'm just hot with little chance of doing anything about it.

Plus, winter is my season. I was born in the winter and it's when I feel most myself . . . you know, unless I'm having some kind of depression at that point. Then I just feel like hell. But more like myself in hell. That may not be a better thing.

Coping Mechanisms

[Trigger warning: Rape discussion.]

Chrissie Hynde recently caused quite a lot of controversy when she talked about the gang rape that happened to her when she was 21. She said some things about rape in general that made people angry (and things I found tired and typical, but she old so what do you expect?), but what really seemed to piss people off the most was the way she processed what happened to her. She felt she was responsible. She was hanging around with Hells Angels, using drugs, and going places alone with them. She chalked the whole thing up to experience and a lesson she hoped not to repeat.

Now, is that the way most people who have responded to this? Honestly, who knows? And really, it doesn't matter how MOST people would respond. This was Hynde's experience and how she processes it and how she chooses to deal with it is her business and her right.

This is something that's been on my mind ever since the Ashley Madison scandal and it was revealed that Josh Duggar was one of the clients. For like five minutes people focused on him, then suddenly the focused shifted to his wife and why she wasn't leaving him. I think people wrote more articles about that than they did about him. Everyone seemed so shocked that a woman with several young children, no education, no job, and a brand new baby wouldn't leave her husband. Really?

In both cases, I saw this repeating pattern with people's comments. Hynde would get no sympathy from them. Anna Duggar would get no sympathy from them, not unless she did A, B, and C. That's fine. No one will force you to feel sympathy. I don't think either of these women asked for it. In Duggar's case, she had no choice in the information coming out. In Hynde's case, she was talking about events of her life and asked for no one to feel one way or the other.

Maybe the issue is our own fear. The idea of being gangraped by bikers who are threatening to beat you to death and burning you with matches is pretty horrifying. To most people, the whole concept of Anna Duggar's life seems horrifying. We cope with this horror by internalizing how we things we would handle it, the things we'd say, the ways we would react. We want to believe we'd be stronger and braver and not fall into the same oppressive paths that we believe other people take. And when people DO take those paths, we feel betrayed, and on some level, we feel even more terrified.

Here's the thing though, part of Feminism is accepting that women make their own choices for their own reasons. We may not like those reasons. We may not believe in those reasons, but if we just go around screaming 'you're wrong!' at every other woman out there, we're policing them as much as everyone else. Victims are not obligated to take up arms to fight against what happened to them. Their only obligation, if any at all, is to themselves and finding a way to cope with their new reality.

Everyone is going to heal in a different way. Some people get angry. Some people want to burn their bridges, even the ones they're standing on. Some people try to view the whole thing as their fault and their responsibility because it makes it seem like if they do all the right things next time, maybe it won't happen again. Some people drink. Often the paths to healing are messy and awkward.

What we need to remember is that recovery is unique to each of us. How we process the wrongs done to us is unique to us. No one has the right to tell you how you SHOULD feel or what you SHOULD do or how you SHOULD move forward. Anyone who is doing that is at the very least a concern troll and often a manipulative bastard. Ignore them. This happened to you. You process it as you need to. And if that loses you their sympathy, so be it. Someone who will only offer you conditional sympathy isn't worth being around.

Unfocused Magical Thinking

My ability to focus has been basically gone lately. I'm having to really concentrate to get anything to stick and then only for a little while. Anything that tries to force my attention for more than a few minutes is getting on my nerves. I just can't handle it right now. I don't have the spoons to focus and I certainly don't have the spoons to be creative. I mostly just need some quiet time.

I suspect a lot of this has to do with the heat. My sleeping has gotten bad again. My room isn't exactly HOT, but it isn't comfortable. In weather like this, all fabric feels painful against my skin. It makes it hard to find any kind of easy way to sleep. When I wake up, I feel like I accomplished nothing in the way of relaxing or resting my body. My mind is even worse. I spend the rest of the day just unfocused and irritated.

This is totally irrational and I know it. I do it every year and I shouldn't. I always think that if I can just make it through August, summer will be over and things will cool down and life will be good again. That is stupid magical thinking though. Summer doesn't end just because August does. I need to stop doing that and setting myself up for disappointment.

Heat and Hate

I am not liking the start of September. It's hot as hell again and after a mild August, it's been very rough on me. I'm miserable and sweaty and I kind of hate all the things right now. We had to run errands in the middle of the afternoon and it was awful. We weren't even out that long, but by the time I got to the house again, I had to force myself out of the van. I've basically been tired since then. We should be back in the 80s next week. I really want that.

I find myself posting a bit more on Facebook lately. I think I'm mainly doing this to try to offset all the politics and fighting. It seems like people keep getting more and more divided, angrier, and more willing to attack each other, both on Facebook and in real life. Division isn't making us stronger.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. There is a lot of fear out there. Some people fear change. Some people fear things staying as bad for them as they always have been. Some people are just freaked out about their current state of economics. With fear driving us, what can we expect but a lot of fights.

In the midst of this, I'll posting pics of cats and Halloween ideas. I'm watching videos about craft projects and those nifty designs you can make with pancake batter. I'm sure some people would find that shallow, but then again, I don't go to Facebook to talk about serious matters. It just isn't my cup of tea.

The Limits of the Personal Narrative

So for the last hour or so I've been listening to a song I heard on the radio in the car. I was by myself and, as songs often well, this one really appealed to me. This shocked me a bit because it's not the usual kind of song that I like. In fact, it's almost the opposite of the kind of song I'd usually like, at least, at first glance.

The more I listened to it, the more I realized it wasn't that unusual for me. The song has a lot of the same Southern muddy gritty sexy bits that usually appeals to me. Is it in the genre I tend to like? Nope, but the foundation is there.

What bothers me is that I had one of those moments of feeling so tied to my 'musical identity' that I actually had to try and justify TO MYSELF why I liked something. Like, you know, something that you either do or don't do. It's not the kind of thing you can really control.

There are a lot of things we let limit us, but the biggest one, always, is the narrative we're spinning around ourselves. I can't eat that because I _____. I can't find that person attractive because attractive people look like ____ . I won't enjoy that book because the author is _____ and I don't like ____. And yet, when we stop limiting ourselves by the shit that isn't true, we find that we may like that food, that person, and that book.

What else could we have enriching our lives if we'd just let go of our self-imposed definitions? Sometimes we get so obsessed with playing our role that we ignore all the other things going on. Sure, we may still not like a lot of it, but some of it might really be great for us, even if it doesn't fit into the things we think we SHOULD like. What if the thing that is too stupid for your smart self or too racy for your modest self or too old-fashioned for your modern self is the one thing you've been longing to have?

We have enough people trying to put us in boxes. We shouldn't do it to ourselves.

Sacred Blood

When I was little, I had this habit of spinning necklace chains on my fingers. I loved to watch them whirl around. My grandmother hated this. Any time she saw me doing it, she would take the necklace from me and tell me never to do it again. "You could put your eye out that way," she would inform me. "There was this one kid who knocked the chain into his eye and the eye broke like an egg and just fell out of his head."

This was a lie. I knew it was a lie then. I know I always glared at her when she told me this and resented her for taking away the necklace. I just wanted to spin it. Why did she have to ruin my fun?

So here I am, in my 40s. I'm not a parent or a grandparent, but there is a baby in my life and I love her so much. And when she crawls around on the floor or sits beside me, playing with my plastic barrette, my mind fills with all manner of horrors. Basically everything this kid does could kill her somehow. Most of the time, I'm kind of sure that's her plan.

What I didn't realize about my grandmother at the time was how absolutely precious I was to her. I mean, she couldn't exactly tell me that. "Don't hurt your eyes. They're my favorite eyes in all the world." "Don't fall and get cut. Every drop of your blood is sacred and I don't want any of it to spill." Human life is messy and bumps and bruises happen. It's easy to process them when t hey happen to you, less so when it's someone you love dearly.

I think one of the most astounding things about loving a baby is the profound knowledge that at one point, someone loved you this much. Someone adored every sound you made. Someone loved the touch of your cheek. Someone looked at your feet and truly believed they were the most perfect feet they'd ever seen.

It makes me feel foolish when I think about how many times I felt unloved when most of my life, someone loved me so much that they truly believed that even though no one else's eyes would squish out like that if they were hit by a necklace, mine were sacred that they would.