Here's the article from today's TDB about our play - WHICH OPENS TOMORROW!!! AUGH!! EE! WHEEEE!!!
:D
Please come see it - all the info for calling for tickets is here, or if you wanna, come see it free tonight for the final dress rehearsal!

"TLT’s ‘Greetings!’ offers laughter, love and miracles"
November 30, 2005
When Tryon Little Theater “Greetings!” director Peter Saputo was recently asked “What’s your play about?”, he quickly responded: “Oh, about two hours!”
Giving a sound-bite summary of this very special play is not easy. “Greetings!” brings rich delighted laughter from its audiences, and also touches the heart deeply. And as one critic said, “‘Greetings!’ should become as much a part of the winter holiday season as ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’ and ‘A Christmas Carol.’” Says Saputo, “What is this play about? It’s about a family. A family at Christmas. It’s about religion and about our beliefs in religion. It is about how we come to have those beliefs and why we cling to them. It is about challenge. Challenges to our belief systems; challenges to our ways of life and those daily routines that keep us comfortable and feeling safe; and it is about what happens to us when something unthinkable comes along and challenges everything we believe in. In other words, it is about two hours. Two very busy and event-filled hours.” Phil and Emily Gorski (Mike Johnson and Frances McCain) are a staunch Catholic family, living in Pittsburgh and preparing for Christmas, which is just around the corner. Their two sons, Andy (Scott Gramer) and Mickey (Chris Riddle), will be sharing this holiday with them. Andy is a TV ad copy writer in New York. He has been raised Catholic and although he maintains a religious attitude, he is what is called a “fallen-away” Catholic. Mickey, his younger brother, though in his 20s is mentally disabled and has the intellectual capacity of a three-year-old. Mickey does now and always has resided at home. This particular Christmas will be a special one for the Gorski family, in more ways than one. Andy is bringing home his fiancée, Randi (Sam Lovelace), a Jewish atheist. While Andy has not become an atheist himself, he accepts Randi’s point-of-view and finds no problem with her belief system. This will definitely not be the case for the parents, especially Phil, the father. This rakes up old wounds and battles between the father and son which threaten to come to a head on this particular holiday. Suddenly, however, they are visited by an “entity” that has taken up residence in Mickey’s body. His name is Lucius and he refers to Mickey as his “host.” It seems that Mickey has “invited” Lucius to be there this Christmas to share his wisdom and his love with this warring family. Concludes Saputo, “So. What is this play about? Well – it is about a miracle. It is about family and love and religion. It is about two hours.” “Greetings” will play at the Tryon Little Theater Workshop, 516 South Trade Street, Dec, 1-11: Thursdays-Saturdays at 8 p.m., and Sundays at 3 p.m. The box office is open 10 a.m. to 1 p.m. and an hour before each performance. For reservations: 859-2466.

WARNING:
The following is an actual "You know what really !@#$% me off...?" RANT. If you are of a delicate disposition, please skip this and wait for my next "pretty pictures, nice words" post.
(Warning #2: These are some things that have been bugging me for a while, so go potty, get a drink, settle in... and please feel free to reply/chime in/gimme your two cents/ask if I'm talking about YOU at my www.samsdayoff.com guestbook or email me.) "May Bri-bro be with you." "And also with you."

These rants are a result of a discussion with a couple of most trusted friends who, when in frustration and desperation I asked them how to broach these very delicate subjects - things that really have been bothering me for a LONG time - with the (MULTIPLE) very delicate people responsible, they said "Write about it in your rant. You can at least get all this anger and hurt and frustration off your chest, and then if they a. happen to read it, b. happen to recognize themselves, c. happen to have the balls to discuss it with you, then it will be out in the open, and the ball will finally be in their court. If they DO read it, and ignore it, well, then... your decision will be that much easier to make. Tell them to their face and take the chance of hurting them, or just write them off and walk away." I know that a lot of people who are not guilty of these ... dumb-ass infractions will read this and wonder, and I decided that that's ok too. We could all - maybe ESPECIALLY myself - do with a little soul-searching introspection. If I'm not talking about you, you'll know it. If there's any doubt (and I had - maybe still have a little - doubt about myself on both of these counts - from one angle or another - trust me...) then it can't hurt to talk to a friend about it anyway, and take the time to find out if you are being a true friend yourself. If you're perfect, and you've stopped growing and changing and learning and becoming a better, more aware, more understanding person, then that's amazing... but I feel a little sad for you, 'cause what's left?

First things first.
If you are friends with someone, and they are having a CON-VER-SA-TION* with you about things that are happening in their lives, either pretend to at least show a LITTLE interest, or tell them flat out "Would you please stop talking about all the interesting things that I'm NOT doing so I can talk about something that interests ME - mainly ME?" so that they can make an informed decision and either tell you to go do nigh-impossible things to yourself, or better yet, go get some MATURE, self-aware**, self-confident**, socially adept friends?
Here's a sample of what NOT to do:
"Hey Jack/Jill, how's it going?"
"Oh, fine Dick/Jane. Actually it's going really well! I just finished a tough creative project that I've been working on for months/I'm working with a Children's Cancer charity/I've just begun taking ball-room dancing lessons!"
"Hm. Have I shown you my latest collection of pet rocks?"

Now, here's a sample of what TO do:
"Hey Jack/Jill, how's it going?"
"Oh, fine Dick/Jane. Actually it's going really well! I just finished a tough creative project that I've been working on for months, I'm working with a Children's Cancer charity, and I've just begun taking ball-room dancing lessons!"
"How neat! What's the project/how are the children/what have you learned so far?"

I promise, the conversation WILL eventually come around to your favorite subject. That's how CON-VER-SA-TION works. That's also how FRIENDSHIP works. If you feel as if your friends are rubbing their events and/or accomplishments in your face, then either re-think your perspective (because if you are really friends, they AREN'T - they just want to share their excitement with you - this is a GIFT. It's called "SHARING".) or SAY SO, and allow them to explain and/or apologize. If you KNOW that you are doing this, and you know that it's because you just don't have the same amount of action/adventure to share, then admit that, too... maybe your friends will be more willing to include you in their action/adventure in the future.
Or even better, maybe your version of action/adventure is just DIFFERENT from theirs, and they'll be just as happy to ask YOU about YOUR stuff when the conversation turns in that direction. In any event, check yourself! Ask yourself: Is this me?

I know I am being harsh here, but this has happened to me quite a few (many, many) times , with more than one person in whom I have invested with a great deal of emotional real estate, and it just flat-out HURTS. I pride myself on being able to say something to someone when they've hurt me, but in this case it's very hard because a person who does this obviously has hurts of their own that they (obviously? hopefully?) just don't know how to handle - and a good person, a loving, caring - AWARE - person, doesn't want to add insult to injury. I could also just - obviously - distance myself from these people, but 1. emotional real estate is never lightly invested and 2. someone like this OBVIOUSLY needs their friends. I know that I am, in a way, doing a terrible disservice by NOT saying something directly, because it is not just me who feels these snubs. Their other friends and family members suffer from this ... lack of awareness*** too... and I'm always the one who ends up being brave enough to say something - then being treated like complete $#*!& by everyone involved because I was the only one who was tired of just bitching about it/being treated like crap/cared enough to try to let them know that they were pissing off ALL of their friends. Lucky me.

Well, to hell with that. Check yourself. Ask yourself "Is this me?" I have. I've quizzed myself thoroughly on this over the months (YEARS) that I've had to get tired of this. If you find that I'm treating you like this, then maybe you need to double-check yourself, because chances are, I've gotten fed up with being snubbed by you and am not asking about your pet rocks because I feel that I've been treated so ill by you in the past and am trying to make a point. It is definitely NOT that I don't care about your pet rocks. I am not the Queen of the Geeks for nothing. I ask strangers in MallWort about their hobbies, interests, children, grandchildren, favorite colors, outfits, music... this is one of the reasons that people LIKE me and WANT TO BE AROUND ME. I really do care. Even if I'm not interested in the subject (deer hunting, magic cards, britney spears), I am interested in people's interest in the subject. This is a likeable trait!

Consider this as well: If you think that I am talking about you, keep in mind that despite this, you have not been abandoned, not by me or any of the other friends that you have alienated in this way,

This is all scratching the surface of a MUCH deeper rant subject, but that is more personal, and if any heads come out of any proctological areas long enough to notice any light-bulbs (however faint) then I will be DELIGHTED to expound on this in a one-on-one kind of way - if you're brave enough and REALLY willing to listen.

(By the way Jen, I am NOT talking about you. Ok? :)

Ok. Part two. And this one is extra hard, because the subject matter is extra-delicate, and I know a LOT of people who could be guilty of this, and quite a few who actually are. Smug mothers of the world, I'm talking to YOU.

I have a LOT of friends and family members with babies. Almost every single one of them were smart, strong, beautiful, talented, supportive, amazing women before they became mothers who also promised to be the same kind of mothers. Many of them kept that promise - and then some. However, something seemed to happen to quite a few of them that I cannot understand, and that makes me so angry that I almost can't see straight when I think about it. This is another one of those "check yourself" situations. You may not be guilty of this at all. You may have only been guilty of it on occasion - but that's enough. In my opinion, this ought to be a license-revoking offense. I am talking about treating your non-mom friends - women who, before you experienced mom-hood, you looked up to, went to for advice, respected, admired, etc. (possibly even for making the decision NOT to have children...) - as second-class citizens. I have friends who, before they had children, told me how much they respected my strength and wisdom, but who, since the whole baby event, have treated me like a complete dumbass. Who have actually said things like "Well, you just couldn't understand..." and who completely exclude me from entire conversations (not the ones about the sticky stuff. that, I don't mind...) or relegate me to baby-sitting and the kids' table, and whatever I seem practical for, like one of their older children, or like I am a kid myself.
I have gotten SO angry at times. I have felt like saying "DO YOU TREAT ME LIKE THIS BECAUSE YOU REALLY FEEL THIS WAY? OR BECAUSE YOU'RE JEALOUS THAT YOU'VE GIVEN UP YOUR OWN FREEDOM?!?! One mom-friend told me that she thought this WAS the main reason that some of my mom-friends do this... i wondered if it was because they thought i was rubbing my freedom in their face, and I questioned myself on this, but I know I would never do this. THAT would be horrible. I couldn't live with myself if I were to do such a terrible thing. My friends and their extremely tough decisions which have turned into precious little people are to be respected, admired and supported and that's that. I have wondered about friends' choices to make this drastic, multi-life-changing decision, and I have very strong feelings about over-population, and about people's mental and emotional fitness when making this choice, but once the decision has been made, I have had nothing but respect for the women brave and optimistic enough to do so. Plus there's all these cute little new people to love and play with! I admit, I have wanted to scream "ARE YOU !#$% KIDDING? I CHANGED MORE DIAPERS, WIPED UP MORE PUKE, NURSED MORE PHYSICALLY AND EMOTIONALLY SICK AND INJURED KIDS THROUGH WORSE SITUATIONS THAN YOU CAN IMAGINE - not to mention dealt with home and school situations and laundry and trying to scrounge up food and trying to keep a family together - ETC. before I was FIFTEEN YEARS OLD than you (HOPEFULLY) will ever have to deal with in your LIFE - the possibilty of grandchildren INCLUDED - and you dare to say "You just couldn't understand..." to ME?!?!?! Just because I didn't carry a baby for nine months? !#$% YOU! (I need to start a blog called "pipe it up your fallopian tubes.com"!!!) It's not just me who gets this treatment, either. I have other no-baby friends who get this, and I have friends with ADOPTED children who get this - from women who, in the past, would have screamed at the thought of another woman being treated this way.

I have to believe that these women who, in the past, would have been appalled at the EXTREMELY mysoginistic idea that someone would be treated as less of a woman simply because they either made the choice ort had no choice about not giving birth, simply are not aware. I can't believe anything else. I think if you are reading this and checking yourself right now (and NO, JEN, IT'S NOT YOU! AGAIN! ;) you are probably appalled at the possibility that this might be you - just as I was appalled at the possibility that I might be making MY beloved mom-friends and family members feel that I thought THEY were lesser citizens because they DID choose the baby-path. I might feel that some tiny day-to-day decisions - like which way to school your baby - or bigger, not so day-to-day decisions - like whether or not to stay with an abusive spouse/parent need to be re-thought, but that's life, and friendship. If you DO think I treat you like a second class citizen because you're a mom, please say so, please give me a chance to defend myself, and to assure you that nothing in this world, not ONE thing, not even my beloved self, is more important than ANY child and their happiness. Especially the ones I see every day, the ones that are beloved by my beloved friends. And let me assure you that no decision is more serious, more vital, more respectable - more frightening and important - than the decision to attempt to raise a safe and happy child in this fucked up world. If you came to me before the baby was concieved, yes, I'd try to talk you in to adopting. But from the moment the decision is made, you have my respect, because you are a rare, rare thing: a braver, bolder, wiser, more self-confident, more optimistic, more certain, more hopeful, more secure, more financially stable, more mentally emotional, more everything person than I am. You'd better be. And I am willing to give you my support, my strength, and the benefit of my very great doubt - all I ask is that you do your very best - all the time, and that you don't treat me - or any of your other friends - like a non-woman. No insult is greater, I promise.

Check yourself. Be aware. Let your non-mom friends give you the benefit of their freedom. You are capable of giving them the benefit of sharing your wonderful, beautiful gift - and believe me, we do appreciate it, and we do admire your bravery and optimism. It's an important, delicate balance, and we both have a responsibilty in it. If you are reading this and have no doubt that I am not talking about you (and admittedly, the majority of my mom-friends are NOT guilty of this heinous crime) , then please, please, please pass this on to other mom-friends and websites and other places where moms talk. I really do believe that the women who do this are not aware, so hopefully this will make them CHECK THEMSELVES.

Believe it or not,
Much love,
-sam


*"The spoken exchange of thoughts, opinions, and feelings; talk."

**these things are OFTEN confused with "self-centered". Self-aware, self-confident people are not threatened or offended by other people's adventures and accomplishments.

***if it's NOT lack of awareness, then it's just plain mean, hateful, rudeness, and they can DEFINITELY go do nigh-impossible things to themselves and GOOD LUCK.

Here are a few more pics from me and Random (my new cam)... I've got a Halloweenie theme goin' on today. The little ghosties are made of meringue on a graham cracker round, and were part of the feast that we (the Persimmons crewe) put on for the big FENCE Halloween HooHa. Ally makes some awesome desserts, and she is teaching me some tricks! I got to make the phyllo pastry bats stuffed with ricotta, cream cheese and cherries, served with warm chocolate sauce! Mmmmm!
Here also are mine and Chris' pumpkins. He loves Zombies and I love D.! (Yes, that's a Gary Oldman-O'Lantern, folks! :)
Here's a picture of our not-so-little Abe, done up in his goth finery... that kid puts on eyeliner better than most girls his age - and he's STILL butch-as-all-heck! :D
Last but not least, here's a pic of my display in 'Your Arts Desire' - there are already some gaps that have to be filled 'cause I've sold some stuff already! YAY!
much love, and happy Samhain!
-s

What's Goin' On...

Howdy! Sorry about the EXTREMELY intermittent posting. We’ve been busy as usual, and I don’t have easy pc access these days. Sweet Ally is letting me use hers today while she bakes and Elsa plays - lucky me! Work is going well, we are getting busier at the restaurant every day, and driving the bread route in this gorgeous weather is quite nicey-nice. Have two pieces of big news - my dear friends (Brett & Buffy, Chris’ folks, Stewart and Chris) pitched in and bought me a lovely digicam for my birthday. A very nice Fuji Fine Pix, 5.2 mega pixels, with a 16 & 258 meg card, a case, battery charger and batteries... I love it. I named it "Random". I will try to get on over the next few days and show you all five of my first pics at a time. Sorry about accidentally posting the first five twice. I have no idea how that happened. *sigh*.
Also, the art co-op that I have just joined (I will be putting my jewelry in, for starters...) Is opening this weekend in Saluda - wish us luck!
Our other, really big news is that Chris and I are back on stage together. This time, we’re performing in the Tryon Little Theatre Workshop Christmas production called "Greetings". It’s not your usual Christmas play - in fact, one of the first discussions we has as a cast was whether or not anyone was offended by the controversial script, and whether we thought we would offend the public. It’s not a naughty play - although there were a few mild "swear-words", which our director thoughtfully and gently edited so as not to stir up the more conservative folk - it’s the message of the play, which truly challenges a lot of conventional thought on the meaning of religion and miracles and faith. It’s lovely and wonderful, and I am delighted to be a part of it. There are only six roles in the play, and Chris and I are playing, well, THREE of them... :D
You’ll have to come see it to find out what that means! It’s my first actual stage play. I am learning a LOT from our fantastic director and incredibly talented cast, and I am playing a role that is a big challenge for me. I am playing a Jewish atheist actress from New York, the "straight (wo)man, AND I have to kiss & be intimate with a strange man multiple times. Whoa! Whee! ;)
Here are the dates, times and details that I have so far.
The play will be performed at the Tryon Little Theatre workshop. The number for the Tryon Little Theatre (not the workshop) is 828.859.2466. I believe that is the box office number, but if that’s not right, they can give you the workshop number. Opening night is Thursday, Dec. 1st at 8pm, and we have performances on the 2nd and 3rd at 8pm, a matinee at 3pm on Sunday the 4th, then the following week on the 8th, 9th, and 10th at 8pm and the closing matinee is at 4pm on the 11th. The theatre is small, so please call in advance! We plan to sell out every night! ;) I would be SO happy to see familiar faces in the audience. Nothing (besides knocking everyone’s socks off with the show) would make me happier! It’s not a long play, and although it deals with some serious issues, it’s a comedy and I promise you will be entertained. If for no other reason, come to see Chris’ amazing performance. I don’t want to give away TOO much, but I can tell you that he is pulling off a feat that would challenge the most seasoned Hollywood vet. :D
I hope you are all finding your lives happily busy and fulfilling, I hope your projects are inspiring and satisfying, and that you are meeting the kind of challenges that you love at every turn.
Much love and inspiration,
-Sam

If you want to know details about this precious little girl, ask me in person. But in this case, I really do think that a picture is worth a thousand times a thousand words.

Time to Ride the Loa

The old oaks are drowning
bodies are floating,
the water is poisoned,
it's the blood in our veins.
Children lost and abandoned,
madness is spreading,
rivers of sickness,
streets flooded with pain.
Families severed,
lives washed to the ocean,
the loa is calling,
the gris gris is broken.
The saints have all left us,
Jeanne could not protect us,
grief falls down upon us
like more heavy black rain.
Our Fathers up on the Hill
stay safe and blindfolded,
their houses are whole,
their hands are still clean.
They cast empty promises,
they make helpful gestures,
they touch down on the "safe" streets
and suffer no stain.
They come empty-handed,
they wave, disconnected,
they're guarded from reality,
protected and sane.
These poor people have never
had anything to give them,
and now their sad lives mean even less.
If they live they're a burden,
if they die, it's a cleansing,
and the wheels of the Nation grind on.
So gather the gris gris
and call on the loa,
turn your palm to your neighbor
and your fist to the sky,
catch a black rooster,
blood-paint the Samedi,
build a fire in your heart
and be ready to fly.
Curse the House and the Father
so he knows that his children
are the mad and the dying,
the black and the white.
His family is weeping,
his house is demolished,
he will know desperation
he will scream, he will cry.
He will know thirst,
he will pray for salvation,
dream of arms reaching,
and wait in the night.
Always pray for the Light
and have hope for tomorrow,
but remember the darkness,
and the way the soul burns.
For the pain of being ridden
by the blackest of loas
is worth it to the strong
if the curse takes its hold
and awareness awakens
and the Father learns.

-sll

In Spite of Ourselves…

My birthday is this week – Saturday to be specific – and I will be turning the corner at 37^. Woo. I can hear my little nine-year-old self saying “What the hell happened to us?!” but the other me’s that represent all the other phases of my life are pretty much in consensus: “We’ll take some crow’s feet, a few ‘very-close’ veins’ and slowing down a little over being a kid again ANYday. We’re relatively safe, happy, and free, and nobody will ever get away with kicking our ass, starving, torturing or humiliating us again. And if we see or know that they’re doing that to any other kids, we’ll fix their little red wagon PERMANENTLY.” It’s funny how little it takes to please your inner child…

There’s another anniversary this week as well. Two years ago, on the night before my birthday, Chris took me to Asheville to see a comedy show. It was a nice night. I wore a pretty dress, hoping he’d flirt a little, and wrote a pretty good poem in the intermission. That night, I would have never even hoped, much less guessed that Chris and I would have a shot at “happily ever after”, or even be a part of the comedy troupe that we enjoyed so much that night. (Oh, how fate loves to skwudge the Play-Do that is the human psyche!) We didn’t start dating until early October because, as Chris told me recently, he thought I was involved with the friend with whom I went kayaking on my birthday that year (what a great day that was, too. Hi Rob!). I’ve always thought of that as our ‘first date’ though, because it was certainly the first date I’d had in a loooonnng time, it was a very “date-like” evening, and it really was the beginning of our mooshiness. It was the early morning of October 5 when we had our first kiss, and later that next evening (still on the 5^th), when he showed up at my house (with a good movie and dinner plans, as he’d done at least a half dozen times before - but never after A Kiss…) and just quietly, sweetly, and I believe permanently merged into my life. We never talked about dating, we never had any wishy-washiness, doubts or discussions, he just fell into step with the rhythm of my life, *bink*, just like that – like magic. Like you always hear it’s supposed to happen.

Two years later, and I can’t believe that I could be so lucky. I wonder if maybe I’ve finally paid off enough of my (apparently ENORMOUS) karmic debt to have earned this kind of relationship. Chris tells me ever day – many times a day – how much he cares for and appreciates me, and even better, he shows me how much. It feels forever, and despite the fact that I felt sure that it could never happen to me, and that even if it did I would never be whole enough to handle it, it feels good.

The whole “love” thing has always seemed like a mystery to me. People use it so easily and put so much store in it, but the word itself has no clear definition or meaning. It has, at the very least, six billion shades of meaning, and in many cases, no meaning at all. But words like admiration, respect, desire, loyalty, faith, selflessness, protection and faith have very clear meanings and definitions to most of us. Those are the things that I feel for Chris, and that he obviously feels for me. When we say love – those are the things that we mean. We talk about the things that concern or trouble us, we apologize to each other when we forget and become human for a little while, we long for one another’s company, we live together as peacefully as any good family I’ve ever known. Weirdest and wonderfulest of all is the fact that we both knew from the very early days that we were going to be together as long as the universe would allow us to be.

We’re both a little crazy (ok, Chris is a little crazy and I have gone through one side of loony and out the other, but whatever… ;), we’re both terribly human, and we bicker a good bit. There are still a lot of places where our gears don’t mesh, and there are things that we have to work really hard at, but we both look forward to working at it every day.

We agree on all of the most important things. We’ve talked about the whole… marriage thing (*shudder*), basically because it matters to Chris’ mom, and because we may need to do it for some practical purpose one day. We’d both rather not, but it doesn’t scare either of us to think about it. We are both very strongly against having children, even though we both love them and enjoy their company, and we’re against it for the same reasons, despite our very different upbringing. We both agree that “six billion miracles are ENOUGH”. We know that there are far, far, far, far, far too many needy children already here, abandoned, suffering, starving to be so selfish as to have our own, to draw even more resources from this desperate world. And we know that neither of us is truly capable of raising children – even adopted ones – the way they need to be raised. We’re good people, we work hard, we live decently, we’re loving, and we work hard at healing our mental and emotional scars every day – but we have the good sense to know that we will probably never be whole enough to raise children the way we should. We are both capable of recognizing the fact that we would – despite our capacity for love and care – raise broken children, and we could never forgive ourselves for that. I only wish that the majority of the population could be so honest and aware. We also share the same basic opinions on religion, politics and money – but we can debate movies, music, art, and the intricacies of philosophy for … well, hopefully til’ death does us part. We care deeply about each others’ passions, we understand and respect each other’s boundaries, and we care deeply about, and are dedicated to healing one another’s pain. Chris and I both know that his job is a lot harder than mine. He’s ok with that, and that makes me want to work extra-hard to lighten his load.

I like my orc-boys, but in my honest places, like my journals, my comics and my dreams, my perfect guy has always been like Chris. He is beautiful, tall and slim with a gorgeous face and curly floppy brown hair; he’s totally dorky, driven by his art, funny, smart, sensitive, capable; he loves robots and sci-fi and 80’s music; he is sweetly goofy and hates sports; he dresses cool, he dances like a complete spaz, but he dances; he’s not picky about food, he likes adventure and doesn’t care to be tied down by STUFF… and he is so veryvery good to me… probably better than I really deserve, but hey, I’m not going to argue, and I’m damned sure going to keep trying to be worthy.

Having another birthday this close to 40 is a bit queasifying (and yes, he and I – and thank god, his wonderful family – are all ok with that bit of it too…) but knowing that this is also when I can celebrate the beginning of my good fortune in the family department (FINALLY!) eases not only the fear of the future but a lot of the pain of the past.

Yay, me!

Much love,
-s

****************************
She don't like her eggs all runny
She thinks crossin' her legs is funny
She looks down her nose at money
She gets it on like the Easter Bunny
She's my baby I'm her honey
I'm never gonna let her go

He ain't got laid in a month of Sundays
I caught him once and he was sniffin' my undies
He ain't too sharp but he gets things done
Drinks his beer like it's oxygen
He's my baby
And I'm his honey
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a'sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

She thinks all my jokes are corny
Convict movies make her horny
She likes ketchup on her scrambled eggs
Swears like a sailor when shaves her legs
She takes a lickin'
And keeps on tickin'
I'm never gonna let her go.

He's got more balls than a big brass monkey
He's a whacked out weirdo and a lovebug junkie
Sly as a fox and crazy as a loon
Payday comes and he's howlin' at the moon
He's my baby I don't mean maybe
Never gonna let him go

In spite of ourselves
We'll end up a sittin' on a rainbow
Against all odds
Honey, we're the big door prize
We're gonna spite our noses
Right off of our faces
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.
There won't be nothin' but big old hearts
Dancin' in our eyes.

In spite of ourselves

***
In Spite of Ourselves
©John Prine
(sung with Iris DeMent)

Happy Birthday, Dear Maaaannnnnndy, Happy Birthday toooooo youuu!
(I wrote most of this while doing my delivery route yesterday)
Much love,
-s
***

Grandmothers’ Curse

For all of my life I have been drawn

from serious mundane purpose

by my senses:

those five sacred sisters,

beggars, thieves, covetous harlots,

no concept of ‘grey’ or ‘middle’ between them;

their mysterious mother, the sixth,

the most powerful distraction, that of intuition.

(I find that the observation and care of humans

is the most elaborate drug of all)

These internal interpreters have served me the world

on a mirrored, musical clockwork platter,

flower laden, and brimming with choices of every shade.

I have always been mesmerized by the mood

and meaning of shadows cast by flying birds.

Reeling, drunk on any sound,

cars or crickets or the odd silence of still air,

I meander, dizzy and giddy and often ill --

the sickly sweetness of vanity and death

is never faint.

No man, no moment, no word or promise

could ever steal my soul away in little gasps

like candy stores or windup toys or river rocks

or lightning.

I am unable to attach myself

to anything more valuable

than the minute splinters of heartbreak that come

when sunlight fades from colored glass

or the promise of the moons’ return, for truly,

what could ever be more dear?

Only to be so broken

and so blessed.

-sll 08/08/05

-for AKL

When Life Gives You Lemons...

...Make a movie about it!
I am inestimably pleased to let everyone (who doesn't already know - who didn't hear me "Wheeeing" all the way from the APB last night!) know that I am now a member of an AWARD-WINNING film crew!!! :D
(I offer a small apology because this is also the reason that I haven't posted in 3 weeks, though I am sure that all of you, realizing the scope of this project and how it fits into my life, can forgive me. :)
Chris and I started this off "officially" on July 4th. We'd already been signed into the competition and Chris had decided on his core crew, but that was all up to that point. The holiday fell on a Monday, which meant I had to run the delivery (it was ok, traffic was light and it was a nice, pleasant day), so Chris went with me so we could spend the traffic time planning, and he could make calls and plot the next set of logistics while I was in the stores. We had decided to do a bake sale to raise a budget, so we set dates and made a list of all the people we'd ask for goodies and their numbers. We decided where we'd like to have the sales, and Chris made notes on who to call for that. We made a list of probable crew and possible cast so that we'd know how much food we'd need to feed them all, then made a list of the snacks and meals we'd be serving, who might donate what, and what we'd have to buy and cook ourselves. We knew from that what our projected budget goal needed to be, and so we had a good idea of what we'd really need by the end of the day. It was a good day, being together, making plans, getting important things done, and it had the lovely side effect of bringing "S&X" even closer together.
When Chris and I had been together about a year, we had one of those "couple clashes" over the whole issue of making lists. I live by lists - I have to. I have a ridiculously busy life, I take on way more than I ought to always (but in the cause of my sanity, so "eh". I'm not complaining.), so lists are the only thing that keep me from unwinding like -
- well, like three normally well-behaved, composed, level-headed little girls trying to learn to play Yahtzee after a whole summer of sibling rivalry and generally just being together 24/7. *sigh* Sorry, post was temporarily interrupted by a crying 8-year old who was clashing with sister and friend over the explanation & understanding of the rules. *sigh* I have extremely rare little midriff-high tear stains on my t-shirt, but all is now well. I hear the cup rattling away downstairs - and the 8 year old just screamed "YAHTZEE!" followed closely by "FIVE! FULL HOUSE! WOO!" It sounds like Sesame Street Casino down there. (*sigh* again, but happy this time.) :D
- anyhoo - Chris was having a hard time keeping all of his ducks in a row. He, like me (thank goddess) has a lot of ducks, and in his biz, a lot of other people are depending on him to keep things together. I tried to stress the importance of making lists and he got miffed and said that he didn't like his life 'being controlled by a list'. *sigh* I said that he may not like it, but he really didn't have much choice, because if he forgot something that was important to me just because he has authority issues (unlike me... HAHAHAHAHA!!!) then he'd be wishing he'd made a list, etc., and I'm sure that the other people depending on him - people with way more to lose than me - would feel the same way. I have learned to understand that Chris has SERIOUS control issues - not in the 'classic' sense, of needing to control people, but of desperately hating to be controlled, but I explained to him that making lists was simply a way of managing ones' own control. I said "Chris, ya' gotta' learn to love the list." He didn't say much about it after that, but I noticed that he started making lists and feeling better about how much he was getting done. This weekend (yes, I'm FINALLY getting to my point ;) was the sweet clincher though. In the midst of the tightly controlled madness, Chris looked pointedly at me and announced to the group - who were bragging about the overall efficiency of our team - that he had "learned to love the list". :) *Moo.*

The next three weeks were a blur of phone calls, planning and plain old hard work. Chris said that all of it was a pleasure for him though - even the late-night, long hours of bake sale prep and hours in the hot sun selling the stuff. We are incredibly lucky to have so many people willing to pitch in their own hard work to help make this happen. We had friends, moms, neighbors and businesses contributing goodies (Thank you, thank you! Bless you, bless you!). I'm not much of a baker, but even I made about 100 "Luna Biscuits" - all natural peanut butter/oatmeal/garlic (with eggs and bone meal and brewers' yeast, etc.) in the shapes of Bad Kitties, bones and Mailmen (the "Butch" mix) and moons, trees and hearts (the "Fifi" mix :); 1oo or so classic peanut butter cookies; and about 150 sugar cookies that I spent an afternoon decorating with two of the kids I keep. Whee! Icing, sugar and sprinkle-fest, yeah! Then we had a couple of nights of bagging and wrapping baked goods, decorating flats to hold the stuff, making signs and price tags, packing things to be easily and carefully moved, setting up coolers for the meltables, getting tables and chairs and umbrellas, arranging pickups and drop-offs, and organizing it so that we had enough for all three days of the sale. I'd sent a press release to all of our local papers, but Stewart went the extra mile and gave us a fat ad, plus printed us out a bunch of pretty flyers (not to mention making a HUGE tub of Chex Mix and coming down on Friday to pick up 25$ worth of goodies for all of the staff at the 'Leader. THANKS GUYS!!! Jody - those Snickerdoodles were the bomb, but I bought all the Rice Krispy treats! Mmm!) that Chris and Clint humped around for days. We also got volunteers to help us sell and to cover for us on Saturday so we could attend the EXTREMELY helpful 48-Hour Film Project Digital Cinema Boot Camp that MAP hosted at UNCA. (Our screenwriting teacher lived next door to Ray Bradbury -!!!- and taught (or, as he said "tried to teach") George Lucas -!!!-) We sold all day Friday and Sunday in front of the Coffee Shop in Tryon, and Chris' mom and long-time best friend Erin shook 'em down all day in Saluda on Saturday in front of Wards' Grill and the Wildflour Bakery.
Chris also took care of lining up equipment, securing HQ (thank you AGAIN, Jen! xoxox), making sure that all paperwork was in line, keeping the crew appraised of everything vital, prodding our "first AD" into actually securing the !@#$ locations (this guy turned out to be a real !@#$, which didn't surprise me, but really let Chris down. We only had two problems during the project - which is a kind of miracle in itself - and they were both people problems. Live and learn, right?), making millions of phone calls, paying the 100$ entry fee, and generally making sure that we were technically ready. I was in charge of shopping for all the groceries, cooking the things that weren't donated (tea, iced coffee, and our big mexican dinner for the whole cast and crew sat. night), making sure we had vegetarian options for all meals, making sure we had enough water and other cold drinks, lining up the donated goods (Wildflour bread; Persimmons' Bistro & TeaRooms' chicken salads, coldcuts tray and delicious brownies and cookies; Chris' dads - David - famous ham-biscuits; Chris' moms' - Peggy -muffins, my favorite broccoli salad, and momcentric bag of dark and milk Hershy Kisses - thank you all so much!!!) and making sure that we had a good first aid kit, sunscreen, bugspray, etc. - and all that BEFORE the extreme intensity that was the 48-Hour Film Project itself!

Friday was a blur, but we made good time. Traffic on 26 was terrible, and we JUST made it to Jen's in time to get the coolers and food boxes out of Esme's bed and pile into Jen's car and zip over to the APB. The place was packed and everyone was incredibly happy and stoked. When the time came for Chris to draw our genre, I realized that I'd cursed us by saying (repeatedly, for WEEKS) "God, I hope we don't get Musical/Western!" 'cause we darned sure did! Thank GODDESS there was a Wild Card option (for the first time in the Festivals' history! Whew!), and after hearing our prop (Popcorn), our character (E. Hayes, Conflict Mediator) and our line of dialogue ("I'm on medication.") the team talked it out and decided to take a chance on the wild card - and we got DARK COMEDY!!! :D :D :D
We left buzzing, and by the time we got to HQ, Chris had decided that he wanted to use homeless people as our central theme. The writing team (Chris, Debra, Jay and I) starting hashing out ideas, and within a few hours had come up with a script that we could love. Thus "Making Lemonade" was born. (I am happy to say that I am responsible for the worst joke in the movie, thankyouverymuch! ;) While we were cleaning up the script, Chris started making calls, directing crew, deciding on locations and trying to find out how many actors we ACTUALLY had (!@#$%^&@#!!!). Then he had to set about the task of making a shot list and planning out the day of shooting around locales and light while Jen and I prepped stuff for breakfast and moving out the crew so that the next morning wouldn't have to be any more hectic than necessary. We were all in bed by midnight, but we were so wired that none of us got more than an hour or so of sleep. We rested though, and used the time to plan ahead, and so when 5:30 rolled around, we hit the ground running. Chris went and met people so they could find Jen's place easily, and we fed them as they came in. Then we loaded up and headed to our first location.
Liz went ahead and started building our homeless camp, and everyone else was close behind, doing their various jobs. The musicians came down to the set at that point to talk to Chris and get an idea of where to head with their writing (they - Jesse and Patrick - *mwah*! were in contact with him throughout the shoot and worked on the soundtrack for 12 hours straight). We had it set up and looking good just as Chris had his crew and actors ready to roll. We were there for about 3 hours when the camera battery ran out, with just a couple of minor shots to go, so we dismantled the camp and took everyone back to the house to begin the lunch/cool-off/and nap wave while the batteries were charging. Chris and his crew got more batteries (thanks Mikey!) and set out to pick up those shots and go onto the next scene, which only needed his core crew and one of the two main actors. We spent that time refreshing our crew and cast and Jen organized the re-sorting of the props, costumes and equipment for the next phase. Around 2:30, everyone had re-grouped and we headed on to our next location at the Mediterranean diner downtown. Pete and Paula (Mr. and Mrs. Apostopolous) were gracious hosts and the filming there - with one or two minor and ridiculous exceptions - went great. In less than 3 hours, we moved on to our next few locations, which were luckily right outside on College St. We were able to finish the rest of the film - except for one shot that we didn't know we needed yet - without moving more than a block down the street. This is where I got to do most of my acting too. Yay! We wrapped just as the light was starting to fade, giving us a beautiful golden bounce into our final scene. Hallelujah!
We got everyone back to the house, and thanks to careful planning, we had dinner on the table within 10 minutes of the cast and crews' arrival. After dinner, we had one horrible moment where we realized that we were missing something VITAL to qualifying for the competition. They had forgotten to get release forms from the folks at the med, Pete and Paula's acting releases and the location release for the Med. It's closed on Sunday, and no one knew Pete and Paula's last name. Someone (!@#$%^&*!!) suggested that we just forge the releases, but I pointed out that it was a 25 year old business in the heart of downtown and someone would surely KNOW Pete and Paula. Besides, faking a Greek name is just not as easy as your average Anglican moniker. I thought for a minute and remembered a moment of dialogue between Jane, the Med's waitress and Liz about a prop that we needed. She told her to go to a specific restaurant, ask for a specific person, and say "Jane sent you." I called that restaurant, asked for that person, explained the situation, and within an hour the Apostopolous' had called and agreed to meet us at ten a.m. the next morning, just as Chris was leaving to go find a valuable piece of equipment that got left at the last location - which just HAPPENED to be there, right on a main street, when they got there. All this was happening while our AMAZING editing crew (Chris and Mike! Yo, yo! ;) was capturing all the footage into the computer to start the non-stop, 17-hour editing process. After we took care of all the million major and minor details, Chris and I finally got to lie down at about 11. He was hoping to grab a few hours of sleep before he had to go and join the editors for the final push. We lay there talking, and that's when he realized that there was still a big plot hole in the story (Jen said she heard his muffled "!@#$!" all the way in the living room.) I had thought to find out earlier who would be available for any emergency "pick-ups" the next morning, just in case. Chris was extra frustrated because it seemed that we were going to have to write another whole scene, call in several actors and crew members. I said "Let me think a minute..." and soon I'd come up with a way to fill the hole and only use myself and Blaque (one of the other two main actors), and Chris and Mike for camera and well, mike - huhhuh... and only three lines of dialogue for a total of about only 10 more seconds of footage, PLUS I managed to sew up one more minor plot hole AND it could be filmed right outside the Med after we met with the Apostopolous'. Chris treated us to coffee and danish (out of the last 17$ of our bakesale $ :) and then he left with Mike to go finish the edit, and I headed off to Jen's to pack up. Burt had the new Harry Potter on tape, so I picked up where I'd left off reading (luckily it was the beginning of tape 8 - it was a lucky weekend over all! :) and listened while I sorted and packed all the costumes and props, packed all of Chris' equipment, divided up and packed the leftovers and cleaned up our giant mess. I was just getting into the shower when Chris called and said he was at the APB, and that they'd turned in the film with an hour to spare - and at 6 minutes and 55 seconds, 5 seconds short of the time limit! Woo! APB donated a free pizza and pitcher of soda to each finishing team, so he said to come on down and celebrate.
I got to sit there, watching the other teams rush in, saturated in the luxurious, wired, exhausted glow of Job Well Done. I felt bad for (all but one of) the teams who didn't make it in on time, and pleased at Chris' accolades. We got to spend some time with a young producer from LA who was as anti-LA seeming as they come, and just generally pat ourselves on the back and breathe. Then we went back to Jen's and screened the film for the die-hards who were still around, plus D. & Kaysha, as D. was just moving into Jen's when we drove up. Of course Chris and Clint were hard on themselves (I suggested that they needed to watch it with this in mind: "Look what we did in just 48 hours." and they gave themselves a little break), but everyone else was totally impressed and laughed their butts off. YAY! There was a little bit of EXTREMELY un-gentlemany/unsportsmanly behavior from one former member of the crew after the screening, which left Chris angrier and more hurt than I have ever seen him, but I am happy to say that that had faded by yesterday, along with the other relatively small chunks of cast/crew nastiness, leaving only the high of... A Job Well Done, which was driven home by the conclusion of the award ceremony last night (which poor Chris did not get to attend, because he was covering for the co-worker who covered for him while he was making the movie... moo!). I dressed up nicely, and went early, just to hobnob and hear the buzz on Chris' behalf. Sweet Katie from MAP got me into the sold-out first screening, so I got to hear everyone's laughter and comments - and see all those other incredible Jobs Well Done twice. After the screening I met Emerald (our lovely leading lady) and Clint in the lobby, and we went to the awards ceremony together. There were only 11 awards, for the 25 movies, and two movies in particular (one of which was the CLEAR best film winner - wow!) took several each. I knew we wouldn't get special effects, and the team who did totally deserved it, and after hearing the majority of the other awards going to two teams, I didn't expect to win anything - especially after 10 awards had been handed out - and I was prepared for that, and totally ok with it. The real award was the experience itself, the incredible satisfaction of (all but two of) our team (psh.) - and seeing Chris so happy in his element, and doing such a spectacular job. Hearing everyone laugh, and all the congratulations and compliments of the other teams was as good as any judges' decision... and then they got to "Best Use of Line" - the only other writing award (besides Best Script) and called out "This Is Our Team Name: MAKING LEMONADE!" :D :D :D
I looked around to see who was getting up - and then I realized that it was supposed to be ME and nearly fell out my seat! Emerald had to push me a little to snap me out of my daze, and I probably lit up the theatre with my grin while I was walking to accept the award. As soon as the awards were over, I called Chris to tell him the happyhappy news and stuck around a little longer to hobnob with our new "contacts, congratulate the other winners, compliment my favorites and soak up the accolades. We all mingled while we waited for the 10 o'clock showing. I so enjoyed watching Emerald take all her compliments so gracefully, and Clint's handsome grin as he accepted his congrats from the other cinematographers, but the best thing of all, for the whole night was during the second screening - which was mostly winning teams - hearing those folks laugh and appreciate the nuances of our little movie - hearing those other directors and hardcore techies - especially the ones from the Best Picture (and several other awards) team - cheer so hard for Chris. That was the ultimate payoff for me, knowing that he is supported and respected by those who really matter in the local fim industry. The hardworking, the devoted, the creative, the ones who are living and loving this crazy dream. This is the foreshadowing of his future, and it's a good one.Blessed be!

We'll be screening the film around for anyone who wants to see it - tonight is at Brett and Buffy's. The DVD of all of the films will be available through MAP mid-next-week, so we can see the other groups' films too - and anyone can order that via APB, MAP and Orbit (the local cool video store.) If anyone wants a copy of "Making Lemonade", we can do a free VHS copy, or we'll charge you the price of a DVD to make you a DVD copy.

Oh - and speaking of "Making Lemonade" - there was a really sweet post-script to the story. On Sunday night, we were too exhausted to drive back to Tryon so late, so we decided to spend the night at Jen's and just drive straight to the bakery to run the route. Chris agreed to ride along to help keep me awake (we didn't get much sleep Sunday night either, just due to exhaustion and environment) and I said that he could nap while I was at stops. We had spent the last of our bake sale budget the day before, and that was just fine - until we got to my last Greenville stop and saw a tiny little guy - only 7 or so - with his lemonade stand** set up outside a store near the EarthFare. I told Chris I'd look through my backpack for change, and when I did I found my checkbook that I thought I'd left at Jens' - with the last two dollars from our budget, the change from the last ice run - stuck in with my drivers' license! We bought two cups of lemonade and 4 cookies from Jacob the Young Entrepreneur for 1$, and tipped him the other $ just for moxy, fellow-feeling and sitting in that blazing heat. We told him and his mom about our movie and asked if we could take his picture, and I took a Polaroid of him selling Chris some fine lemonade, and Chris and I left with the feeling that we had really achieved something, something more than just making a movie in 48 hours, and that Someone really had been looking out for us the whole time.

Follow your hearts, people. They lead you into the most amazing places.
Much love,
-Sam

p.s. we're missing the music and editing crew from the group photo, but we are going to treat them to a nice dinner and we'll get a shot of them to post then!


*Wetrats and X - and anyone who has ever tried to explain ANY rules/instructions to me more complicated than "Roll the dice and move that number of times" or "Draw one, play one" - know that I was EXACTLY the right person to deal with this conflict. The !@#$ "Hokey Pokey" makes me a little nervous...

**You can't get the full irony of this until you've seen our movie...

Are we really connected to the world? Are we even connected to ourselves?

I know that I'm not, and it hurts to realize how removed and afraid I am, and yet I can only imagine that to be truly connected, as tuned in as one should be, would be unbearably painful. I don't believe that it's possible for a normal person - basically anyone who is not a truly enlightened being - to be strong enough to survive that kind of awareness, no matter how necessary it is to the salvation of the planet.

“Sometimes,” he tells me, “people ought to just leave well enough alone. Everything’s moving too fast these days. We’re so busy, we can’t see what’s in front of our noses anymore. We don’t need to know everything that’s happening, every place in the world, every damned second of the day.”
He pauses to look at me, to make sure he’s got my attention.
“What we need,” he goes on, “is to connect to what’s around us and the spirit that moves through it. Our families, our neighbors, the neighborhood.”
“The tribe,” I say.
“Same difference.”*

“Dissociation” is a term I’ve had to think about a lot. Of course, for the longest time, I had to think of it from a “keeping myself out of the looney bin” kind of perspective. The DSM-IV (1994) defines the distinctive feature of dissociation as "... a disruption in the usually integrated functions of consciousness, memory, identity, or perception of the environment." All dissociative disorders are defined as causing significant interference with the patient's general functioning, including social relationships and employment. Dictionary.com says that dissociation is a psychological defense mechanism in which specific, anxiety-provoking thoughts, emotions, or physical sensations are separated from the rest of the psyche. Oh, DID, how well I know thee…
Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about the social and familial aspects of dissociation. Dictionary.com says that to dissociate is to remove from association; separate.

We all do it. We all have no choice but to remove ourselves from an enormous percentage of the reality that surrounds us, or our jumped-up mutant monkey brains would just explode. I turned off the TV more than 8 years ago because I suddenly ceased to be able to block out the massive, overwhelming and crippling grief that I experienced when I watched the news or “reality tv” and realized that each of these “stories” was about real people. People with whole lives and families and friends who were experiencing the entire reality of what, for others, for “viewers”, was just another sad case, or something to discuss at the water fountain or bitch about with your friends. Another irony, another safe and distant heartbreak that would be forgotten in time. I stopped being able to forget. I stopped being able to not feel. Every bomb that goes off, every soldier that falls – no matter which army they fight for, every car that crashes, every child that is taken, every prostitute slaughtered, every wife beaten, every hostage killed, every unnatural, unfair death and disaster that becomes a blip on the news is actually a lifelong world of pain for whole families and communities.
Yes, I am completely aware that I am choosing to not "know" (though I believe that, unless we are in a classifiable state of denial, and that's a LOT of work, we always know what is happening in the world, whether we see or hear the specifics.) what's going on - I could see someone saying that I am sticking my head in the sand, so to speak. I know that watching the news and being "informed"*** and aware might be called a way of lighting a candle rather than cursing the dark However, from my own tv addicted perspective, as well as watching the moods and modes of the people around me who do watch the news - or don't, it seems more like a case of flying into the candle and cursing the heat - and it seems to leave ones' wings invery sorry shape. I feel a tremendous amount of guilt over the fact that I'm not Changing the World and Saving the Planet. Of course I blame myself (it's ok, I blame everyone else equally...) for what's happening to our country right now. You've all watched me throw myself against that wall over and over again. (You know, George Bush never wrote me back.) It'd be easy for someone who didn't know me - including myself, sometimes - to think that I was throwing in the towel, rolling over and just letting these hateful, powerful people destroy our lives. When I was throwing myself against that proverbial wall I was always sad, scared, angry, exhausted, defeated, vengeful and worried. Even more than usual. My natural paranoia was tweaked to a fever pitch (read back a year or so if you don't believe me) and I felt as if I was failing and on the edge of apocalypse every day. Honestly, the edge of apocalypse has only inched closer. I am an optimist, but also a realist. It's a fault. But failure is something that I can't afford. I'd honestly rather die than live with the kind of failure that comes grouped in sentences with the words 'apocalypse' and 'edge'.
The worst part of it for me is that in order to cease ALL hypocrisy and try to truly practice what I am preaching, I have to find a way to overcome my fear of being close and making real commitments to other people, especially my family. The safe, and I believe utterly acceptable and understandable option has been to choose a new community, one almost completely free of my past****, and then starting off with new choices and boundaries. Before I moved here, I'd also never had any kind of serious involvement with "the community", so that has been a relatively harmless for me yet significantly helpful for others way to achieve what I believe is a reasonable step in the right direction, a conscious step toward changing the world and saving the planet with no capital letters. I'm talking about the every day things, the things we're able to do without seriously hurting ourselves; the things we desire to do that won't seriously hurt others; the things we need to do sometimes that we just have to sacrifice less important things - even our pride and safety and beliefs - for.
I believe that most of my family (I'm not so sure about the younger ones, hopefully I'll live long enough and they'll be patient enough for me to know) understands why it's hard for ALL of us to be as connected as we all believe we should or could be. I'm sure that we all feel the pangs of life getting shorter and time flying by without making a true family connection. I also believe that we all hold it against ourselves as much as we hold it against each other, and hopefully we forgive ourselves as much as we forgive and love one another, despite the distances. It's possible that I'm the only one who feels terrible guilt every day over not being able to be the peacemaker, or at least the one to make the first serious steps (this time), but I seriously doubt it. And I know that none of our guilt is worse than our fear, the only other thing as strong as our bond to each other and the past.

I am dissociated, by every definition. From society, from the news, from my family. Sometimes I am even dissociated from myself, my friends and from the community, but one can only hide for so long from the things immediately outside ones' door - and I think that's the answer. There's no easy fix to the struggle within the me that belongs to my family. There's certainly no easy fix to the struggle within me that is a product of my past. There seems to be no fix at all to the struggle that is me vs. the world government/society. But I can try a little harder to be nice to my boyfriend and his folks, to my friends, to the people I work with and for, to my neighbors, to the folks I've known so long through the library, to burgeoning artists, and kids who need a little more, to people I meet in stores, to people who ask me for things that I can give - my tribe. I can try to do more to generate kindness in an unkind world, to remember that what I put into the world is magnified by the people it changes. I can't stop people from doing horrible things to each other anywhere but within my immediate scope (and luckily my immediate scope reaches pretty far through donating my artistic time to organizations like Steps to Hope and MRAF, or straightening the house and making a nice snack for people like my friend Buffy, who counsels at-risk kids and makes their lives more liveable), but I can help the people around me deal with what's within THEIR immediate scope, and pray that the influence continues to spread. And meanwhile, I can - perhaps most importantly - take care of myself too, and try to overcome the fears that keep me from making even more of a difference. Light a candle and bless the light. I can't Change the World. I can only change me - and diapers. And that definitely makes the world a better place. :)


Morning and Night **

Beyond our town the bottomlands flood each year.
Someone's son goes walking, never comes back.
Weeks pass. Town square talk reclaims the days.

Tonight I hear the rain remember roots
and think of elders gone the long way back to dust.
What we know by heart we doubt the most.

I have a wish to be at someone's door,
unannounced but welcomed anyway, ushered in
to dine and sing and sleep the sleep of kings.

But this is a world of slaughtered saints.
Random shots are fired, while morning and night
our mothers turn their faces toward the sleeping hills.

So quickly has the century come and gone.
For a while let's ask each other simple questions
and make up answers that can keep us home tonight.

************************

Much love,
-s


*- from a story called “Masking Indian”, from a collection called “Tapping the Dream Tree” by Charles DeLint

**- from "Morning and Night" by Jeff Hardin, from Fall Sanctuary. © Story Line Press, Ashland, Oregon.

***informed on what our !#*$'d up media wants us to think...

**** meeting Rachel (and keeping her kids) and finding her connection with my college years has been very strange...

I know that I haven't been much of a blogger lately - and I apologize. I predicted that I would be 10 times busier once I left the libob, and my prediction was completely spot-on. It's nice to have a life full of variety and options, but at the end of the day (well, actually at the beginning...) I realize that a large majority of my variety and options have to center around paying the bills - after all, that was the point of jumping off - to make my art and hobbies work for me. I've taken several big steps in that direction, and am planning and plotting all the while on how to keep it up, but small steps get you closer to the goal, too - right? So, with Stewart's help (THANKS, STEWART!), I have finally (he thought we needed to do it before 'Con) added a Cafe Press store to my page! I don't blame anyone for not noticing that new little button in the sidebar of my page. It's been a loooong time since I updated *sigh*. But we just added it a couple of days ago - the little picture of the dollar bills with wings.. yep, that's it. The link to my SDO store! I've only put a few products in so far - though there are LOTS of fun things to come - and due to the fairly steep prices that Cafe Press charges, I am keeping my profit markup as low as possible. I've only added +3.00$ or less to each item, so that if any of you are kind enough to support me, my art and silliness, you won't be gouged TOO terribly! :)
If there is anything on my page (or in my portfolio - or in your head, and you know I could draw it for you) let me know! I will be designing an "Antisocial Butterfly" shirt - I'll probably be the first to buy one - as you can tell from SDO, I've always wanted one... I'll also be adding "I need a !@#$ Day Off" items, a printed book of my comics and art, and a VERY special article of ladies' underwear, along with other fun, festive and philosophical (haha!) items. Even if you don't shop, pleeeease check out my store and let me know what you think and which items/artwork would tickle YOUR fancy.
Ok, the commercial is now over, tomorrow we'll be back to our regularly scheduled blather! :D
Much love (and a little shameless commercialism - hey, it beats "The Gap", huh? And it'll help buy Beast food! ;)
xoxoxoxoxoxoxox
-s

Ok, ok already... I’m back, and I’m blogging. Just remember, you asked for it*. ;)

When I got Andi’s message(s) sweetly requesting that I return to the world of blog, I realized that it has been one full month since I last blogged - and since I abandoned the “safety net” of my job. It has become clear that ‘safety net’ is a relative term. I suppose “safe” itself is a relative term. My physical health has improved drastically in the last month. I’ve had two bad times: I caught the cooties - a bad summer cold - that all of the Feral Chihuahuas (except Jay and Chris. Hmph.) Got during Stoneleaf - this was, rather UN-ironically at the beginning of the month; and yesterday and the day before when I suffered from the first migraine I’ve had in ages. I was dressing the set for a movie that X is helping with, and I spent the Tuesday morning and afternoon in department store hell searching for ugly tchotchkes, Chia pets, Cheez Balls (NOT puffs.) and other oddities, then the rest of the afternoon and into the evening making this empty - and recently painted & newly carpeted dorm-room look lived in. My throat started getting really sore in Target - the 5th of 6 stores that I went into. I noticed my head begin to ache with that all-too-familiar throb while I was buying (*ahem*) used books at the Goodwill (“A-ha!”), so spending several more hours in that small, claustrophobic, chemically saturated room did me in. I was down for the rest of the evening and the whole next day** The only good thing about it I suppose (other than the forced slow-down, which I admit, I need sometimes - oh, and the clean beds and good movies) was the realization that I used to feel like that, to some degree, every day. (Not to mention the realization that there are some things that my "safety net" has taken away from me completely, and refused to compensate me for the loss in any way... !#$% the man!) Like having a little cold, complete with a low fever, sore throat, sniffling, sneezing, aching - every bloody day. For the last month, I’ve felt my strength coming back, little by little. I’ve been able to do things and carry things I haven’t had the strength for in months, maybe even years. Then this morning, I woke up, found myself migraine free and feeling pretty good, so I decided to do a little yardwork while it was cool. Two weeks ago, X and I spent an hour and a half - right after I came home from my route, which can be pretty exhausting - doing some SERIOUS clearing around the fig trees. I’m talking about cutting down small trees with an axe, pulling huge vines, dragging the trees and brush into piles, etc. Afterwards I felt great, like my old self. This morning though, after yesterday’s ache-fest, I barely had the strength to use the clippers on the comparably tiny bittersweet and mimosas by the driveway. Hm. Veddy interesting.
It’s my first instinct to say that having time to look at my life more closely is a good AND a bad thing, but then my logical core brain (yes, there is one) says “What a !#$% crock!”
This last month has not been without stress or even a few tears, but compared to the last two years, I have been like another person - someone that I was starting to forget. During the last few months, it was not unusual for me to cry every single day, sometimes several times a day, but now I am finding that it is not just my physical strength that is returning. The lightness of being able to choose my responsibilities, of being able to say “No.” to things that I find unreasonable and “Yes.” to things that I find worthy is anything but unbearable. I’ve questioned myself and my direction some, of course, but not too much - it’s only been a month. I’ve thought a lot about things that I tried to keep myself from thinking of, because those things combined with the misery that I was experiencing on the job was just too much. When I realized today that a whole month had passed, of course my OCD/PTSD/DID/WTF, leonine, perfectionist brain immediately threw out the question: So, what have you done in this last month? Well, here’s the short list:
I’ve sold 185$ worth of jewelry, not counting the pieces I did for trade;
I’ve made several other new, beautiful pieces;
I’ve made enough $ to pay my bills AND save more than I ever have over a single month in the last five years AND had enough to splurge on a Polaroid (I’ve always wanted one) as well as a new, girlie summer wardrobe. Skorts and cute sleeveless tops. (Yay, $General!);
I did my second commissioned poster for the bakery;
I helped a girlfriend move;
I have lost a little weight, gotten a little tan, and “summered” my hair;
I have been swimming more in the last month than I have in the entire time I’ve lived here;
I’ve taken some walks;
I’ve poked around in a cool creek and caught bright red and yellow fish in my bandana to show
children;
I did one of my infrequent and infamous sculptures (Happy 4-0, Crowgirl! The crows WILL
come home!);
I’ve spent some excellent educational and fun (for me and them) time with three wonderful little girls;
I’ve successfully learned the whole bread route - which I enjoy even more than I thought I
would;
I was in a comedy show (in a major theatre festival) that made almost a THOUSAND dollars;
I helped a friend fix her computer;
I’ve spent more time with some of my girlfriends than I have in a very long time, reconnected with an old girlfriend from high school days, and made a new friend who is has some un-
believably strange and strong connections to my past***;
I’ve gotten closer to Chris(X) and learned to appreciate him more;
I’ve felt more free.

Not bad for a short list, I think.
Most of this stuff is “outside” stuff - body, material things, etc. But all of it, indeed, every thing in my life is connected to internal things. Feeling good enough about my body to wear skorts and sleeveless tops, for one. The time I spend with the kids, watching the meticulous clockwork of their hearts and their family lives has awakened a lot of things in me, a lot of memories and questions. Two of these girls come from a family that could not be more stable, solid, successful; and one of them is the child of a mother my age, from exactly the same area that I am from (she grew up in Gulfport); from a family very similar to mine it seems, who knows MANY of my friends from my college years, who was with Robbie two nights before she died, and who is going through a separation right now. There are times when I feel like I am living an experiment, and this is definitely one of them. I have always been both the scientist and the white mouse, but never before has it been so obvious to me. Watching and weighing my own reactions to their honest feelings and my duty to them is almost surreal, very much like I am being tested. Thank goodness I’ve always enjoyed tests. For those of you with children, or for those who have cared for them, you know the extreme hyper vigilance that comes (that SHOULD come) with that responsibility.. For those of you who know me, you know the very extreme hyper vigilance that lives in me, so you can imagine the weight of every word I say to them... I am learning more about myself than I could ever teach them I think. And I am lucky that I have these brilliant, loving, mature, concerned, challenging little ladies to share this with. I needed this time. I thought I was taking on a summer job, but I am really being paid for the only kind of therapy that might help me right now. I was taking a shower in the girls’ bathroom last week, and was nearly floored (at least I was already in the shower) by the waves of sadness and anger that came from looking at all their bath and hygiene stuff. And then, I get out of the shower, and there’s my dear beloved girlfriend - who also happens to be a trained professional counselor (who specializes in at-risk kids, no less) - waiting with open ears and an open heart to hear me talk about and process this pain. Same the week before when we had the 5 year-old brother of the other little girl with us for a day, and I realized that I could read the story of his family’s sadness in his little body and face, even though he hardly talked at all, and that it hurt me badly to see it and be unable to do anything about it (oh, horrible, horrible echoes of a horrible, horrible past...). Buffy was there to hear what I had to say, and it was something that I hadn’t even realized until I talked to her about it. Blessed be.

My mind has been working overtime, thinking about my family. Not so much about the past lately. It seems that the last outburst of fury and agony cleared out a few of the cobwebs.
There is anger, but thank god, my parents seem more and more like the ghosts they should be every day. I am haunted by their reflections, by the parts of them that are so strong in me, but I am stronger than that, than them, and I know it. I can’t change the past, I can’t make it go away, I can’t make my mother say that she is sorry, and even if she did, I would still be as horribly broken and scarred as I have always been. But instead of believing that I can fix me, I am just having to come to terms with the fact that I am the product of these nightmares, and that I can walk away from anyone who can’t see me, and treat me accordingly. Chris is finally beginning to see how the specifics of my past effects my present and future - I see him look at me when certain things are said, or when people behave a certain way, or whatever triggers the memories, and I know that my past is real to him. We saw a very poignant movie last night, and there were times when things were said that rang that old bell in my heart. One was a woman talking about her own heartbreak. She said: “You can’t break something that’s already broken.” Without thinking, I replied, out loud, but to myself: “Yes, but you can break it into smaller and smaller pieces...” He touched my hand, and I knew that he was remembering - honoring my pain. It’s unbelievable how comforting and strengthening that is. It’s as if that’s what it takes to make me real.
I am sure that it will all come full circle, but for now, it is the present that is haunting me more than the past. My relationship with my aunts and cousins, and of course with my siblings. I think of Mandy every day, but I can’t seem to find a way to breach this gap. I can’t find any way to say what I want to say to her, and in the meanwhile, all she hears is more silence... The guilt that I feel about not being closer to my family is there every day, but the anger about the entanglements and awfulness that keep me distant from them at the same time doesn’t go away. I’ve learned that it is very dangerous to try to discuss it, but I don’t know how else to release myself from the self-loathing that I feel for not finding a way to be closer to them. I think they all know that it hurts me to be involved, and that I feel that I hurt them by being involved, but I believe that, deep down, we all want each other as a family - well, most of us. There are so many “camps” and degrees of hurt that every single one of us must feel torn between the others. Each of us had such a different experience, each of us has old hurts that cause loyalties to be divided and being angry at the irresponsible, selfish, mentally, morally, and emotionally despondent bunch of *$$#0!*$ who put us all in these positions in the first place is pointless. Most of them are dead, and then ones who aren’t are so deep in denial or their own morass of misery that they might as well be. This one definitely has no easy answer. It seems that the best we can do is to make ourselves a life that is as happy as possible - not to mention as free from the mistakes of our forebears as possible, and then be prepared to do what we can if someone breaks camp and comes to us for ANYthing - at least, anything that we are capable of giving.

So, here’s where my head is. I am fumbling about in the dark a bit, I admit it. I have no grand plan, I have no real idea what will happen next, but that’s ok. I am not afraid. There is a world of options spread out beneath my capable hands, and I am free to choose. Despite the lifelong struggle, despite the pain that resounds from the world outside, I am back to what I know best - me. That’s definitely something that I can work with.

For those of you who seem disconnected right now, I’m sorry. The circuits are never closed (even, sometimes, when I wish they were...). Being without a pc is tougher than I thought it would be. Soon, hopefully, that will change. Cross your fingers. If you want me, if you need me, though, if you are ready to talk, if you need to borrow 20$, if you want the truth from me, or even just b.s. small talk, I hope you can see that it’s hard for me, but if you reach out, I’ll grab your hand. I am hard to get ahold of - especially now that every day is different - but everyone (even Kenny Ray, ferchrissakes! Hey, KR - good to hear from you again) knows how to find me. E me, and I will send you my cell#. It’s pretty much always with me. It may take a while to get me, but I am not as good at hiding as I wish I was, and sometimes, I really need for people to point out to me that there’s no reason to hide. I think as soon as DragonCon is over, I am going to look into bus, train and air tickets to Mississippi. I think that’s the only feasible and decent way to try to open up the circuits with Mandy and Jeff a little, and maybe even recharge with my Cuz’s too. Seamus, thank you for the cryptic but very lovely and Seamus-like beam of light. Please, please let me know how you and yours are. (Hannah, your little beam of light was lovely, too. I was thinking of you this morning.) That goes for all of you. I have conversations with all of you all the time, my head and heart resound with memories and ideas of you. Thank you for being there even when I’m not.

Much love - more than you know, unfortunately,
-s


*Thanks for “hounding me”, Duckmama. Well, more like “kittening” me, really. Mrowr. =^;;^=
‘Just caught up on your blogs too. ‘Sounds like you aren’t the only one who might need to pick up the phone.
**Well, I did get all our pillows and mattress aired, and bed-linens, towels & pup/cat-bed cleaned. I can’t just do NOTHING... *augh*
***more on this later...

"It takes a lot of courage to release the familiar and seemingly secure, to embrace the new. But there is no real security in what is no longer meaningful. There is more security in the adventurous and exciting, for in movement there is life, and in change there is power."
-Alan Cohen

It's hard to believe that this is the last five minutes of my last day on this job that has been so much to me - from one end of the spectrum to the other. It has been a harbor and a curse, a blessing and a headache, a complete growth experience and a source of pain and illness... in all these ways and many more, it has been more present and consistent than any family I have ever had. I have never lived with anyone for five years, either consecutively or altogether. Not my parents, my siblings, my husband or boyfriends. This - and my little house on the hill - have been the most stable and consistent things I have ever known...


"What man actually needs is not a tensionless state but rather the striving and struggling for some goal worthy of him. What he needs is not the discharge of tension at any cost, but the call of a potential meaning waiting to be fulfilled by him."
-Viktor Frankl

...and yet here I go, out on my own, away from this safe and dangerous thing. My health has pushed me, my art has pulled me, and now, I take my chances in a world that id more familiar to me than any other, a world of change and chance...


"We know what we are, but know not what we may be."
-William Shakespeare

...Now my volunteers' soiree is over (and that has been the most bittersweet thing in all the leaving, along with that last "Ladies and gentlemen, the library will be closing in five minutes.") and I have been given their smiles and laughs and kind and thoughtful gifts - and damned fine cooking - I am thinking about all the things they've done for me outside the library too. Their greatest gift to me has been themselves, trusting me as a manager, and welcoming me into their lives and homes. When Connie - who has been good to me all these years (and like Jeanne and Anita and Susan, since before I even opened the doors on that first day, Dec. 01, 2000) - and who put this sweet party together, said (in response to my heartfelt thanks for their covering my heinie for all this time) "It was a pleasure.", I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she meant it. What an honor. Coming from these dedicated volunteers, who have more than one place that they give their free time to, not to mention lives and families and jobs, that means all the world. I have learned so much from these women and men. I hope they will have a chance to see what a good mark they've made on my life.

My children were sad today, but they know that I will not leave them, and so the sadness was just for seeing all my little junk and photos and kid art leave my desk. But they know, just like my vols and favorite patrons, that I am leaving with hope in my heart and a vision in my head - something I've never realistically had before. It helps me to have someone to not let down. And I know that I won't.
So, as I've said many, many times - and have meant every single time: "Onward and upward."
Here I go, into my brave and bright future.
For those of you who have carried me - family, friends, volunteers, co-workers, kids, community - bless you. I truly love you, and I would have never achieved this without you.

-s

p.s. speaking of brave and bright, check out the first page of my photo gallery. Stewart posted some pics from last nights' Stoneleaf festival opening night gala... whee!

(these quotes come from wisdom)

Info Re: Stoneleaf Festival
(Starring - among other fine and festive acts, our troupe: The Feral Chihuahuas!)

COME SEE US!!!

"The Feral ChihuahuasPresentsKumquatThe Feral Chihuahuas are a sketch comedy troupe committed to providing all original material that delivers a unique viewing experience. The Feral Chihuahuas formed as a group when two different theatre troupes discovered they had similar visions and enjoyed working together. This group of 7 individuals write, direct, and perform their own material and each person brings to the group a different talent as well as a mutual respect for each other. Influences include: Monty Python, Kids in the Hall, Mr. Show, Seinfeld, The State, The Three Stooges, The Family Guy and many others... " - cont.
Rating: Mature
click here for more information about this show
Theatre: 35below (call # at the bottom of the page for directions!)
Ticket prices: $13.50-15.00
Times: Thurs. 6/2 – 8:00 pm; Fri. 6/3 – 8:00 pm, 11:00 pm; Sat. 6/4 - 8:00 pm, 11:00 pm

The Feral Chihuahuas present:
KUMQUAT: A SKETCH COMEDY EXTRAVAGANZA!
- by Any Corren

- continued from above:

"...Often bringing fresh humor from common situations, they also delve into absurdism, existentialism, and draw a lot of their humor from political and social commentary. The Feral Chihuahuas are certainly a different breed, and their mission is to be brave, smart, edgy, and most of all, funny. The material is for mature audiences: contains strong language and adult situations.

Meet The Feral Chihuahuas: Hailing from all sides of the US (okay, actually just the South) they are: Jay Becknell, Tommy Calloway, Rich Gays, Samantha Lovelace, Chris Riddle, Jessamine Stone and Elizabeth Taylor [note: YES, those are all our REAL names. Yes, even the girls. Yes, even Rich. :] What sets The Feral Chihuahuas apart from other groups is that members write and rehearse 45 minutes of new material in three days and present it every Wednesday at a small theatre in downtown Asheville. Although it may seem like a lot of work in a short time, the troupe never compromises their vision while striving to stay fresh and continuing to push themselves.
Excited about their first appearance in a theatre festival, they will be bringing back material from their weekly show, as well as brand new sketches for Stoneleaf audiences."

for performance schedules and ticketing information, please visit
www.stoneleaftheatrefestival.com or call 828.257.4500