There are days when the cage doesn't seem to open very wide at all.

There's been a significant shift in my writing here, not entirely consciously. I have no proclamations about how it will be this way forever or not, but I was thinking recently about how not semi-publicly recording so many of my activities changes my perception and framing in certain ways. Sometimes I feel like I have more to talk about when I see people in person, because I haven't been constructing the story here, but other times I feel I have less to talk about in person, because I lack the ability to frame my goings-on into events, and therefore stories. Also, I caught myself the other day feeling like I was living life with more secrets. I had to pause and laugh at this, that the majority of people have significant internal lives and personal activities that are not vigorously broadcast to friends (and strangers), and there's nothing wrong with that. Not that I'm some crazy public figure just because I've been blogging for 8 years, but just more in the microcosmic sense of how I frame my life, and how I then connect with people in real-life.

I'm sort of disappointed in how long it is taking me to revise my novel. Beating myself, being hard on myself, etc. isn't helpful, I'm not trying to do that, but I also need to be real, I wanted this done by the end of the year and its just not happening that quickly and I can only be all "its unfolding at the rate it needs to" too, but also, I'm disappointed. Some of this is just learning as I go, as far as how time-consuming and the task of line-edits can be. There are probably a million psychological reasons too for dragging my feet, but those are less interesting to me to pick apart, and instead I just want to feel bummed out and slightly frustrated, because, well, I am. It will get done though -- I'm not despondent or giving up or anything. And perhaps when the new computer comes this week, having a toy will help inspire me to get it together. Both of our computers haven't been doing so great, and I was planning on replacing the desktop and keeping the laptop, which was at least good enough for typing basic word documents and checking e-mail and if it got busted in transit, it wouldn't be paralyzing or a loss (I bought this laptop used off of trooper6, four and a half years ago, and I've definitely gotten my money's worth). But then I came home last week to discover that Sophie had puked on the laptop, killing it. I wasn't even annoyed -- we were fairly reckless in always keeping it tucked vertically between couch cushions, handy for looking up actors on IMDB while watching tv. It was hard to allow myself to replace both computers with one laptop -- I still have these old school ideas about how laptops are so expensive and you get so much less computer for your money, and neither of these are exactly true anymore. And just in time for this to happen, I got my holiday bonus at work, which helped take care of it all. My new (refurbished) Macbook is arriving this week and I found an excellent deal with a lot of computer and a reasonable price that didn't induce any sort of panic attack. I did almost get swayed into buying a PC, especially seeing so many on sale for less than $500, and I know Apple is not perfect, but I just really can't handle windows and virus protection updates and all of that whatnot. This is the year I got old. And by "this", I mean really 5 years ago. I was very tempted to get a full ipod with it (I only have a shuffle). But then I did the reasonable thing and decided to wait until next paycheck. Which really means several paychecks. Honestly, I was considering the full ipod because I knew it would be fun for our road trip on christmas weekend to upstate NY, but it will be fine regardless. And it will be more fun to get all my bills paid in a timely fashion this month without worry of overdraft. Wow, maybe I really am an adult.

My father e-mailed me this past weekend, to inform me that they were going to Mississippi for a funeral today for my great aunt Margaret. I was relatively close to her and Uncle Dub in my childhood, but I obviously hadn't seen them in several years, and to be perfectly honest, I wasn't entirely sure if she had maybe died already and no one had bothered to tell me before (which may or may not have also happened to her husband Dub (short for 'Dubya', as in J.W., his name, which is why when that fcking President of ours showed up on the scene, I was extra disappointed to have the southern nickname maligned)), so I wasn't torn up with grief about her passing, though I was thinking last night about all the memories I have stored away, mostly flashes or sensations, no real stories. But what bothered me more with the e-mail from him, and his casual "haven't heard from you in awhile" line is the realization that I probably need to tell my parents that I'm not contacting them and why, because otherwise they do not get it. Yes, you haven't heard from me in awhile, because I wrote 3 times this summer and you never replied. And why don't you ever call/write me for a change anyway? I have avoided this for long while, the angry "I'm not talking to you" letter, it seemed like possible unnecessary prodding for drama, but now I feel I can honestly say it to them and have it not be about inducing some sort of reaction. Like, maybe I didn't want to tell them this, because I knew there was a possibility that if I confronted the reality so honestly, it might actually serve as a wake-up call for them to get it together. But in fact, it probably wouldn't at all. Given that last year at this time, I talked to them on the phone 3 times in a month and it seemed to be the explicitly beginning of something that ultimately failed pretty much by January. I have approached this thing so slowly, not just because I can sometimes be slow-moving emotionally myself, not even because they even said in the very beginning "this will take some time for us to adjust", but because I am fully aware of the power of time, and how it can help illuminate ways for us to heal. And I guess for me, it is showing me the way to do that, and its not the way I envisioned or wanted, it doesn't involve a happy reunion, but it will involve me getting on with writing the fable of how I want my life to be.^**

In Other News, we went to the holiday auction at the zen temple this past weekend and I bid and won 3 months of classes (and a free uniform) from Degerberg Academy, which appears to train in the style of Ultimate Fight Championships. I have never taken any sort of 'martial arts' class in my life, other than a brief period of watching Tae Bo videos, and I'm giddily excited about this. I like how hardcore ridiculous it is, without even really pretending to be an authentic "eastern" experience or whatever. Also, I convinced my buddy Eric from writing group to bid on it as well (there were 3) and so maybe we will be sparring partners. I have a confession to make -- I have never thrown a punch or been hit by a punch. Well, maybe a couple in the gut as a child, but they are vague memories and certainly nothing after the age of 12. In general, I am fine being a pacifist, I don't think that everyone in the world needs to know how to fight or anything like that. I am however, strangely excited to experience both of these things, with the help of some padded headgear. Its entirely probably that I will go to two lessons, get a black eye or a broken hand, and never go back. But that's okay. Because then I can at least cross off something from my lifetime to-do list.



^**: Thanks, Rachel Maddow.

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Spontaneous lunch with jethead at diner nearby, then going to the post office where we ran into cocolola, then in the car, Jet reconnected with people they'd been wanting to reach. I love my neighborhood!