What I’m doing

Talk about a long absence! I’ve let this blog lay fallow for all the long months of some severe ups and downs. In a nut shell, I am doing much better. While for the last few weeks I was having some trouble with low moods, I am back into the 70s on my Moodscope depression test score (read about how I use Moodscope’s wonderful test here).

I’ve been trying to reincorporate things that have been helpful in the past. Such as blogging, both reading and writing. My favorite blog hands down is bi[polar] curious: poppycock from the bipolar spectrum. Sarah, who is the blog’s author, just had her 2 year anniversary! Congratulations, Sarah!

One simple thing I did was to buy a new med planner after mine was misplaced in my latest move (more on that later). I’ve also started knitting again!

But I’ve also been looking for new things to help myself. I’ve subscribed to Bipolar Disorder Magazine. Once I get my first issue, I might post some interesting snippets.

So my plan is to post a new blog every Sunday. We’ll see how long that lasts!

The early bird

At around 4pm on Wed. the 20, I decided to take a nap (after being up for 20 hours again). I wasn’t particularly tired, but my body ached a bit.

I woke up at 4am on Thurs. the 21. Nuts.

At least on Wednesday, I did find the insurance forms. Now I just need to find paper to print them out. No deadline was listed though, so that is a good thing.

This getting (or more usually being up already) for the early morning is quite beautiful. I am generally not the type to leap out of bed in the morning, so I usually miss the special qualities of the light coming into the world. Something about the quality of the air, the hush, the calmness of the dark after the sharpness of it earlier in the night, makes me particularly inspired and restful.

A restfulness of mind, which is so very hard to come by for me these days.

I feel more centered, more connected. And this only happens during my manic cycles since I am usually sleeping the morning away in a depressed funk otherwise. Ironic, isn’t it?

It makes me wonder if my poetry also comes from this place of centeredness, of connectedness, of burning in the womb, of mania. The poems I usually like the most are those that have a sizzle in them. When I look back at them after the initial fire of creation, I usually am surprised I wrote them. There is a sureness of voice, a strength, that I only feel in myself when I am manic. I feel like I am then a truer version of myself. One who is stronger. That is the one who survived.

Which makes the down times that much worse. Because that person is not the survivor. That is the damaged victim. Those halves are always present, but like id and ego figures, they assert themselves more at the highs and lows respectively.

Maybe I write Id Poetry–I kinda like that.

So I guess, what I’m trying to say is that I may be crazy, but I’m enjoying myself right now. Of course, in 10 days, the rent is due and I have $10 left in my checking account…

But I am working through that aftermath plan with baby steps. Today = kittens’ shots. Friday = a friend driving me around to the Social Security office and Human Resources to start the disability process and file for energy assistance, respectively.

All those offices used to be in the same building along with child services and food stamps, centrally located downtown near the main bus stop. Now you have to go to three different places all over town in a virtually bus-free town.

You’re only a conspiracy nut if you’re wrong…

My hope is that temporary disability and unemployment together will be enough to cover July’s rent. I’ll worry about August later.

Namaste

Turn that frown upside down, Part III

As I posted last week on Monday and Tuesday, I have started a regimen of serious, sustained happy-making to pull myself out of a serious depression, and really also to help keep me more stable and on track mentally.

In case you missed the definition of “Happy-making”:

Happy-making: n. the act of making oneself happy, or at least less depressed, by engaging in simple, subtle, or extreme activities that lift one’s spirits. v. the action of performing these tasks, which may include a variety of diverse and often unrelated things that is different for every person in most cases.

The third activity I want to talk about is a little bit different from the first two, but no less serious of an undertaking. In fact, this is a much bigger, ongoing process…

Cleaning my house.

I know that sounds a bit odd as a happy-making activity, but really, in my case, it makes a lot of sense.

I’ve always been a bit of a messy person. I tend to accumulate far more things than I have shelves or drawers, and piles of stuff, most often books and papers, usually ensue. However, when I am depressed, I also have a tendency to stop throwing away trash.

I don’t know why. I just don’t throw things away. Like it is too much effort to put things in a trash can. Old food stays in the fridge, stacks of papers deepen on my desk, then tumble to the floor, where they remain with food wrappers, cardboard boxes, old newspapers, cat toys, and every other little bit of junk you can think of.

I’ve already mentioned the three year’s worth of recycling on my porch (I’ve added a few things to each trash pick-up). Then there is about a month and a half of old newspapers stacked in my kitchen and living room that I actually need to read and clip things out of before I toss, not to mention the daily paper that shows up on my porch. I also have several bags full of books and boxes full of childhood items (my favorite little dresses, my matchbox collection, etc.) sitting on my kitchen floor alarmingly close to my gas oven. And then there are three boxes of the contents of my college offices from the two places I’ve worked in the past, full of office supplies, graded student work, and old syllabi. Old magazines, books, book, and more books, clothes that don’t fit or have more holes or strings than coverage, those bolts of fabric I bought when I thought I would make my own curtains, more knitting projects than I can count, and just this week I found the cardboard wrapper for the plunger I bought over six months ago.

I’ve broken my whole house up into zones, prioritizing some areas over others (like the kitchen and bathroom), and breaking rooms up into projects (like clearing off the kitchen table, or picking up all the trash off the floor in a specific room).

In the past two weeks, I have taken out 12 full bags of trash.

Mind you, my apartment only consists of three rooms plus the bathroom. I only have one closet. There is not that much space.

But since clearing all that crap out, even though I am a long way from being done, I can’t get over how much bigger it looks in here. How much more room to walk. How the light seems to reach farther into the room.

All this de-junking as also given me a chance to tackle the other two dirt factors I have in my apartment: cat hair/litter and coal dust.

Both the cats and I seem to shed a great deal. All of the hair seems to combine to form tumble weeds that colonize nooks and crannies. Since I have actually unearthed the vacuum, I am trying to use it at least twice a week. This is up from an average of once every four or five months. I also not longer feel like I am walking on the beach from the bits of litter that invariably get scattered around. I am actually scooping it every day, with happy results for everyone.

Coal dust is another problem that gets even worse in the summer. I have gas heat, so the dust is not internal. In the summer when the windows are all open, the dust from the passing coal trains, the smoke belching scenic railroad, and the trucking route pour into my house, coating every surface.

I’ve invested in Swiffer products and the air quality alone in my house is a great factor in being happier.

I also find a dirty, cluttered environment is harder for me to function in. But it is a horrible Catch 22: one or two down days and the house goes to pot, which makes me more down. And when I am manic, I usually fixate on something creative. Apparently laundry and sorting papers don’t fit the bill.

While I still have about 17 more projects to tackle, and really trying to keep up with the daily dirt, my house is cleaner than it’s been in months. And with some areas, years!

This also has the happy side-effect of me being less embarrassed to invite people over. My sister actually has a place to sit when she visits. M’ James can actually crash on my couch when she invariably gets herself drunk during her visit. If I was less of a chicken, I would actually love to have more visits from people over the age of 12 (the neighborhood kids do stop by). Low stress hang-outs at my house make me feel much better.

This makes me very happy!

The role of this blog is…Part II

The word multitasking originated in 1966, referring exclusively to computers and their computations. Automation of tasks to make the human life that much easier. But in 1998, the word started being applied to humans.  On the surface, it might sound like a good thing: do more in less time with less effort.

But really, as a modern concept I think it sucks.

Because we got the do more part, and maybe even the less time part, but the effort feels like it has tripled.

And with my recent run of near-crippling anxiety attacks, I lack the math skills to compute my effort to do even simple tasks. Say good-bye to my days of multitasking.

I don’t want to work full-time, volunteer full-time, and part-time, and be a graduate student, and be creative on deadline, both personally and professionally, all while pretending I’m not desperately lonely and need a social life that does not include an agenda.

My day yesterday was perfect: I woke up naturally around 11am, cuddled with the kitties, met a friend for lunch, played with kittens at The Book Center (10 are ready for adoption), went to Southern States to look at flowers, played with my cats at home, did some light house work, talked to my sister on the phone, and wrote this blog.

No stress, no panic attacks, minimal hallucinations (I’ve started actually keeping track of that, too).

But also no work, no grading, no deadlines, no bullshit.

Which brings me to my point–dun, Dun, DUN–what the heck am I doing talking about all this in a public forum?

First of all, thanks to everyone who posted comments on Part I.

I’ve mulled this over for a while, and I realized this blog has had a bit of a multiple personality disorder (not a current diagnosis of mine). Or rather, I’ve tried to multitask. Maybe it is because I’m lazy. Or confused. I’m confused often. But I blame that on being born in the Year of the Monkey.

The way I see it, I have three reasons for writing a blog:

First–Personal: I am going through a major life shift wherein I am trying to truly deal with my health, all facets of it, in a more mature, responsible way rather than simply running away when it gets too scary or uncomfortable.

To do this effectively, I need to write about it. But I have a difficult time holding myself to personal deadlines (just look at the state of my website, some of those pages have been “Under Construction” for three years). I need to write everyday. That is how I cope best because I am a writer.

I also need personal connection and resources to support myself during this shift. My closest friends live literally hours (if not several time zones) away. And I’m crap at calling (phone anxiety, though my besties are kind enough to call me). Besides, the type of support I need is too much for a single person, or trio of persons, to deal with. And while some of my dearest friends have a pretty good understanding of some of my issues, I really need to connect with people who can say “been there, swallowed that.”

Hence a personal blog is a major priority for me now.

Second–Creative: If you look back at some of my first posts, this blog was intended to be a creative outlet. While I have always written poetry, I originally planned to study creative non-fiction, particularly the personal memoir essay.

This makes sense as an author for me now as well because most of my poetry is pulled, at least is a small way, from events in my life or experience. Even the themes in my fiction can be linked to personal obsessions, which is true for all writers. So writing about things that are superficially personal would be a way to build a platform for my work, laying the foundation for a book later on.

While this has some appeal, I am far too overwhelmed to do this consistently. The energy that goes into churning out a 1,000 word essay of literary quality every week, let alone every day which is my current timetable, is astronomical for me. I am a slow writer and an even slower composer. I feel for now, this option is an impossibility.

Third–Professional: Finally, there is the professional blog. This is where statistics come into play.

The standard advice is to pick a niche you are passionate about (or can at least fake a healthy interest in) and then you blog regularly about it in hope that eventually you get enough hits to attract the interest of advertisers.

Alternately, you can create a following surrounding your small business service to attract customers, with the idea that you give enough advice/service/copy away for free to attract attention and a warm fuzzy feeling (engagement) until some of those hits turn into paying clients (conversion). This is also where most writers get the advice to be writers writing about writing in the hopes of getting writing jobs.

When I think about this, I alternate between feelings of resistance and panic.

I don’t want to!

Not only does that sound deadly dull, I also have to admit that I can’t force myself to read those types of blogs (even when they are written by writers I like with the possible exception go Neil Gaiman). And if I have zero interest in reading them, should I really be adding to the glut? I mean, not all of them are totally spammy. But most of them are hardly original.

And how am I expected to blog about freelance writing in an original way? I guess my post about teaching the kids’ workshop comes close, but realistically, I’m not going to pick up new freelance clients that way.

Most of my freelance writing jobs fall into one of two categories: marketing or manuscript. Those people are looking for people with solid reputations for quality and efficiency, which means they ask around. They don’t troll blogs.

So the roll of this blog is….Personal.

I am going to keep it linked to my author’s page on Facebook, my website, and various other online profiles and what-have-yous.

And if that costs me some freelance clients, so be it. I mean, if they turned down a freelancer in a wheelchair, we’d all think they were assholes, right? So let’s treat mental health issues the same way.

Yes, I have health problems, but I am still a damn good writer.

And very modest, too.

Turn that frown upside down, Part II

As I posted yesterday, I have started a regimen of serious, sustained happy-making to pull myself out of a serious depression.

What is the definition of “Happy-making”, you ask?

Happy-making: n. the act of making oneself happy, or at least less depressed, by engaging in simple, subtle, or extreme activities that lift one’s spirits. v. the action of performing these tasks, which may include a variety of diverse and often unrelated things that is different for every person in most cases.

Second on my list was trying to eat better. I don’t exactly mean healthier. When I get very depressed, I find myself eating a single food for days on end. In fact, when I finally started up the other half of the valley this time around, I counted no fewer than 15 boxes of Better Cheddars next to my couch.

So I would not say this has been successfully achieved, but I did stop buying Better Cheddars. I am trying to eat more variety. I am also trying to appreciate my food more. Last Thursday, I spent an enjoyable lunch pretending I was a food blogger (I am a foodie at heart, just lazy).

I also discovered a great little new café: European Desserts and More. I love supporting local businesses.

I just love the design on the business cards. They look yummy…

Makes you hungry, doesn’t it? I’d been hearing rave reviews about this place from several of my friends locally, so I decided to check it out.
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Very easy parking at Canal Place during the week.

This shop used to be a rather unremarkable pizza place, but the new owners have repainted in basic red, yellow, and blue, making the place very cheery!

Sasha, the owner, was very friendly. I was the only one there, so he took the time to ask me how my food was and where I was from. We chatted for a while. He was a little self-conscious about having his picture taken, but I told him everyone would be looking at the cakes!
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Sasha, who made a point to tell me that it is indeed a boy’s name, is from Bosnia. He came to the US after the war in 1997. After having children, he and his wife decided to move some place more rural and safe and picked Cumberland.
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He said this week had been slow because of Lions Chicken. If you are local, you know exactly what I mean. If you are not local…imagine trucks filled to the brim with dead poultry. Imagine them being driven to an empty lot and barbecued in grills that could easily fit a person or two. Imagine people lining up at 7:30am and eating it three times a day. And imagine signs for miles around announcing when the dead birds will be available and when they are sold out.

The dinning service was casual, but Sasha served the food to the table, and I paid after the meal. And what did I order?

I wasn’t quite sure what to order, so I went for a favorite: Spinach Pie.
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I am usually disappointed with commercial pies because the dough is store bought, and you can usually tell it has been reheated in a microwave–hard on the edges and cold in the middle. But not with Sasha’s pie!
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The dough was perfect, great texture with just the right balance of chew and flake. It was also the perfect temperature all the way through–not so hot you can’t taste the subtler flavors, but not cold at all.
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It was a good-sized portion, too.

And of course, I ordered dessert!
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Again I was a little unsure, so Sasha asked me what flavors I liked. When he mentioned hazelnuts, I’m pretty sure my eyes lit up, and he came around the counter to point out the Ferrero Cake.
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Made with Ferrero Rocher candies and Nutella, I really couldn’t ask for a more perfect fit! I tend to eat Nutella by the spoonful! It is “dry” in that it is not a spongy cake, but it is also not a choking hazard. I would suggest a glass of milk or even a scoop of ice cream to go with it.
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The cake was not overwhelmingly sweet. It was more of an earthy, balanced, subtle sweet flavor.

Sasha makes all of the food himself. I don’t think anything is not homemade. The fact that he views Nutella (which I am rather in love with) as an ingredient, makes me like him even more!

And where is this wonderful place?!? In downtown Cumberland in an area known as Canal Place. The C&O Canal ends here, and there is a clutch of mostly empty shop fronts set in a pleasant little area.

The Footer Dye Works Building has been empty for years, and the roof is falling in. But every time I see it, I am overcome with a whimsical urge to buy it. Not that I could ever afford it, but imagine some retail spaces in the bottom and low rent artist studios in the upper floors! Maybe a nice café with big comfy chairs for poets and writers. *sigh*

My foodie experience was a lot of fun. It was a pleasant awkwardness, taking a picture of my food before eating it.

It made me happy!

What makes you happy?

Turn that frown upside down, Part I

When I started to realize that my increasing anxiety and depression were something to take seriously (thanks in part to a heart-to-heart with my friend TCB, who also recently started dealing medically with depression), in addition to going to the doctor I started a regimen of serious, sustained happy-making.

When a person hits this low of a point, this is actually harder than it may sound.

When you’re depressed, you don’t necessarily have the energy to feed and bathe yourself, let alone maintain a regimen of happy-making. But I gave it my best shot, and I think coupled with the meds and support, it helped a great deal.

So I decided I should probably do a series of posts devoted to what a happy-making regimen is and what mine was/is.

Happy-making: n. the act of making oneself happy, or at least less depressed, by engaging in simple, subtle, or extreme activities that lift one’s spirits. v. the action of performing these tasks, which may include a variety of diverse and often unrelated things that is different for every person in most cases.

First on my list was changing my hair. My cute cut from Melanie from Vain (which I refer to as hair therapy since she rescued me from a, gasp, shag!) the last time I visited my friend in Seattle was all grown out.

I wanted/need hair that tells people I am a poet at first glance. I don’t want to be mistaken for a conservative, even up here in the Appalachian mountains!

So a month ago, I went to Mr. Alan’s Lifestyle Salon and had Meredith give me this asymmetrical bob (my favorite type of cut, especially for my round face) along with some funky new hair color.

Side view. You can see the angle.

The back is short and a little shaved at the bottom.

I had wanted purple highlights with a silver streak where my own Rogue-esque streak already is, but Meredith had trouble getting the color to stick to the Garnier Fruitis I had on my hair already. So I ended up with a painted true red with a painted blonde streak. Still pretty cool.

But ultimately, I was going for this! I love comic books and anything Joss Whedon writes, so Frey is a current love. I wanted her hair cut: a little longer than her shoulders in the front, super short in the back with flips and curls. The dye job is a little intense for me (I’m not a pink person)…but this is my goal.

So this past Thursday, I went back and had Meredith do this to the back! I’m getting closer.

Meredith always does a crazy styling job, but this gives you a basic idea that the front is still basically the same.

I am so much cooler now temperature-wise, and I also think my hair is pretty cool, too.

In another month, I will have the back trimmed and give the purple dye another shot!

It makes me happy!

What makes you happy?

It only took me three years…

Once upon a time, long, long ago, there was a girl who enjoyed taking her clothes off. I say enjoyed because she was so very comfortable undressing in front of people, even me when we first met.

I was intrigued by this because a) she has basically a perfect body and b) she was always very comfortable with her body. Those two things rarely go together for women, I think, and b) is exceptionally rare. I always wanted to know her secret.

After I met her parents and younger siblings–hippy, groovy, love-the-earth-and-yourself people whom I love–I had a clue. But I wanted her type of confidence desperately. She practically drips it out of her pores!

I definitely didn’t have a confidence building childhood, so I was stumped. Fortunately for me, she decided to remain my friend and also become my personal cheering section, encouraging and supporting me without fail.

I was still a little jealous.

After college, she ended up doing some nude modeling for artists to make ends meet between jobs. I became enraptured with the idea. Maybe that was my ticket!?! I would strip and find my confidence underneath!

When the temporary madness cleared, I realized that I was not going to do that. Ever.

Then during the summer of 2009, I took a class based on Julia Cameron’s The Artist’s Way. For many reasons, it was an important class that had a profound impact on the course of my life, but one thing that did come up was a conversation about my old idea of nude modeling.

Several of the painters in the class told me about a local life drawing group that was always looking for models and which pays $20 per hour. I filed the information away and kept thinking about it.

Eventually, after having a note on my to-do list to call the facilitator for over a year, I finally got the gumption to be added to the list of models in Summer 2011. The first time I was called, I was busy. I was a little relieved.

Then money got tighter. And tighter.

The next time the facilitator called, I gladly accepted the invitation to sit for two sessions for a painting. And this past Thursday, I sat for my first modeling gig.

The Studio is in the basement of The Cumberland Theatre (click image to follow link), which is an old church. The chair was really very comfortable. The only thing that was a little annoying was the robe was too small, which I expected, so I will have to buy one.

The artists, three women and two men, sat in a circle facing me. It was a little intimidating at first. But as soon as I got the robe off, I actually felt better.

I experienced an odd feeling as I posed for the first 20 min. session. All of these people wanted to be here, looking at me. They were intrigued by all my bumps and curves from an artistic point of view. They were not concerned with my dress size! They didn’t care how things sagged other than those sags made for a more interesting sketch.

They were observing, but not judging.

That is a very different sensation than I usually experience when I go out in public fully dressed. I usually hate sitting in restaurants eating by myself because I think about how I must look. Gods forbid I am eating dessert by myself!

I also struggle with high, occasionally paralyzing levels of social anxiety (I keep it well hidden). Some days I simply cannot leave my house, which is why I prefer working from home.

I admit I was nervous Thursday. I arrived almost an hour early, sitting in my car trying not to think about what I was going to do. I texted my friend, and she of course gave me enthusiastic encouragement (along with some practical tips: “If you’re doing a pose for longer that 10 min, choose one that is VERY easy. You will get tired!” and “never let them choose your pose. They can SUGGEST. But you are the one who has to live with it!”

During the first pose, my breathing was rapid and shallow, my muscles tense. But as I slowed and deepened my breathing, my body relaxed.

By the final pose (same pose, I just got a break after every 20 minutes and had to get back into the same pose), I was almost asleep!

So another life goal accomplished…and it only took me three years!

P.S. I took pictures of the works in progress, but I don’t think I am going to post them here. One of them actually looks like me a little. The guys’ breasts, to quote Frida, lacked gravity, and they tended to draw a bigger bellied figure than the women. It was interesting to also note the differences in mediums and skill levels.

If a picture is worth a thousand words…

…then a blog without them isn’t worth 2 cents.

I need a camera! So far the pictures I have been posting are shot with either my webcam (Thank you sexy, anonymous benefactor!) or my little sister’s Kodak Easy Share that I have on long-term loan.

Knowing my sister that could be a few more weeks or a few more minutes (last time I talked to her she hung up on me and I left a “strongly” worded voice mail telling her what I thought of that).

I needz one!

So…suggestions???

I have no idea what I want in a camera other than nice pictures. And my price range is, well, “modest” is a very pc way of putting it. Something under $100 for sure. Under $50 would be a wonderful dream come true.

Come on people! Throw your expert and/or baseless opinions at me!

Spring Resolutions

Procrastination just isn’t the right word.

I’ve not updated this blog in over a year. I’ve not even really remembered it. I doubt anyone who was reading then remembers it now either. That’s ok. So why, dear reader, am I bothering to post now?

This past week, I was lucky enough to get a honey of a freelance gig. Reading through Thai, Malaysian, Singaporean, and Australian blogs and doing some direct marketing offers. And while I saw more pictures of how to cook pig intestines than I ever wanted to in my entire life, I got to thinking…

I have a blog. If people can blog about the subtle differences between delicious dead pig insides and unpalatable dead pig insides, maybe I could too. Blog, that is.

But again I was confronted with the same problem. Niche. I don’t really have one.

I tried to get one. In titling this blog Living on the Green Edge, I intended to use that as a jumping off point for discussing the financial difficulties an underemployed, scooter driving academic often found herself in. However, Poverty is apparently a difficult topic to write about when you are trying to survive it and also difficult to get ad placement for (Do YOU need a sturdier cardboard box to live out of??? We have the widest selection of discounted boxes in the Tri-State area! Lowest prices allowed by LAW!!!). Not so much…

I also tried to blog about environmental issues; the name is an obvious indicator. But I really suck at being green.

Example: When I first moved into my current apartment, I decided I was going to recycle. I got bins to place on the porch and everything. I was careful to remove the labels from the jars and cans, and even ran them through the dishwasher to make sure they were clean and wouldn’t start smelling or attracting pests. That was March of 2009. The bin is full, and I’ve never emptied it. I just throw everything away now. When I’m not too depressed to use a trash can, at least.

So I just gave up. It was easier. The past year has been topsy-turvy, as most of my years are, but I feel like lots of things have changed.

New Hair +New Cat = New Me
Feeling a little depressed one day in March, I went to the local shelter and found Madame Mimsy. She is a cuddler and a grumbler. $800+ in vet bills later and both Ashlie Ann and Madame are happy and healthy.

But I don’t want to write just a personal blog. That’s like super indulgent, right? That’s not going to get my writing noticed or launch a career. I need something hip and cool and attention grabbing. I need to platform, platform, platform.

And then I thought…Fuck it.

I want to blog..about myself. Because I LOVE talking about myself. And some people may find that interesting, but if they don’t, that’s ok. Because right now, I need to blog. I need something that I have to report to that is not a journal that sits on my bedside. I need to get myself to the page, and I need to write whatever I need to write. So I have no idea what my posts will be about. Maybe inspiration will strike. Probably not.

Whatever. Once a week, I am going to try to be here. Focusing on real stream of consciousness writing to get myself back on track. If you want to stick around and see what this ride will be like. That is  awesome. If not…I forgive you!

Namaste