journeys of a restless mind

lo que queda

Phil and I went to see "What Remains," a documentary about photographer Sally Mann.  It's always a treat to be invited to observe part of someone's artistic process: her big awkward camera, the glass plates, a makeshift darkroom in the back of an SUV.  I was particularly impressed with the way she takes what is right there in front of her and makes stunning, important art out of it.  In the film, she says something to the effect that, "I never felt the need to leave home to be able to make art."  What moved me the most about this film, though, were the glimpses into her family life.  There is a scene where she is outside in the morning sun and she is cutting her husband's hair.  He has a towel wrapped around his shoulders and his eyes are closed.  She runs her fingers through his hair, and cuts it slowly and deliberately.  There is such tenderness and intimacy there between them that it just broke my heart.   Everything about her life seemed infinitely rich in a way that mine is not.

guilt: not just for mommys anymore

I'm used to mommy guilt.  But now I've got blogger's guilt, too,  and that just may be too much to handle.  I mean, I've only got one kidlet, but I've got two blogs.   And one of them is feeling neglected.  And I know which one.  The easy going one.  The one that doesn't make me post five times a week.  The one that doesn't dictate subject matter.  The one that doesn't help supplement my income in any way, shape, or form.  My first baby, my nina-turns-40-turned-destinations,  is getting the short end of the stick, and I'm not sure what to do about it.  As cool as it is to be blogging for cash, the truth of it is that I'm simply working two jobs now.  And there ain't nothing very glamorous about that.  It's just more work for me.

Folks have been asking me if it's stressful to have to write five posts a week for Club Mom.  Damn straight it's stressful.  I try to finish my post for the next day the night before.  But it's hard for me to write at night, and I don't always get it done before I collapse.  The next morning I wake up and the first thought to flit across my uncaffeinated brain is, "Oh shit, I have to write a post." And a low-level buzzing starts up and keeps getting louder until I hid that "publish" button.  Of course, it's a great privilege to be blogging professionally, and I consider myself lucky to have this opportunity.  That doesn't change the anxiety it causes me.

I guess you neglect the child that you know is going to be OK.  I know this space will always be here for me when I need it. (Hopefully most of you will, too.)   It will always be my first love.  But a girl's gotta pay the bills.  Especially when the child support dries up. 

a comer

Even though Phil and I have a mission to eat our way through Seattle, I mentioned to him awhile ago that maybe we should expand our horizons a little bit.  He agreed.  Last weekend we went to an art exhibit, and on Saturday we went to see Marjane Satrapi speak, and to a movie.  We also had a snack, had dinner, had ice cream, went for cocktails and another snack, and (of course) got coffee.   There's obviously no point in trying to fight it. 

Woke early this morning to the sound of rain.  It's so misty that the bay is hidden.  I can hear the ferries blowing their foghorns long and low.  The crows hop along the steep slate roofs or land on the overhead wires and rub their beaks along them, dark silhouettes against the light gray sky.

more synchronicity

I was talking about needing a hug.  Colin told me about a woman in India whose grand mission in life is to give people deep, soul satisfying hugs.  Later, he blogged about her.  On my way to work this morning I noticed she's in Seattle right now.  If nothing else, just seeing the poster advertising it made me laugh out loud.  Ah, those mysterious ways.

keeping it real

No matter how much you try to avoid it,  reality will always catch up with you and slap you in the face; better to stay grounded in it all the time.

(Can you tell I'm getting Tricycle's Daily Dharma email these days?)