coffee · friendship · gratitude · growth · healing · poetry · receiving

I Get By with a Little Help from My Friends

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

As I sit across the wide wooden table, slightly wobbly, with
“world music” of some kind emitting from corner speakers, my friend holds out her hand, lays her palm up, crisp milky white against waxed mottled mahogany, and I take it. She places her other hand atop our pile of digits,
cocooning them, warming them as tears make unbidden trails through the
invisible down of my cheeks and under the hollow of my jaw.
Uncategorized

Adapting Order from Chaos

Molly Daniels Hayes2 Comments

Today, I get my thesis signed by the third person I need,
and then uploaded to the library system for printing and binding. It’s another
way of saying, today, it’ll be really
done. Complete. Finit. C’est Complet. Au revior. Adios. Ciao. See you. Never to
be seen again.
Well, sort of. Not, “never to be seen again,” but, I’m
exhausted of it. It’s like saying the word zipper repeatedly until it loses all
its meaning. That’s the word “thesis” for me at the moment, and a lot of
others’ I assume as well.
On a fully unthoughtout fledgling tangent that may pan out
to a hill of beans, I’m applying to a job in Philadelphia today. It’s more of a
show of willingness I suppose, to move, to be employed, to take action so that
I am employed.
In several books I’ve read lately on maintaining solvency
and being financially self supporting, you won’t guess what the number one
advice is – get a job. Ha! Yes, it’s true.
So, in and amongst the other work I’m doing here, like the
workshop in SF next month, where I’ve rented a studio space, and am posting up
flyers and all, I’m also looking for work… sort of in a “finally” kind of way.
There feels to be a different tone emerging. I do not say fully emerged. But the tone is one that feels
less desperate.
Not that I’m less desperate for income, but that I’m less
desperate for “the answer,” or to “make it work,” or to “figure it out.” I
guess I just am beginning to feel more calm around it. Like this, job
searching, is not such a big deal anymore. I don’t know, it’s hard to explain,
but it’s beginning to feel like it’s not
the Herculean effort it’s been for me in the past.
Perhaps part of it is the stop-gaps I’ve created for myself
with my “R+D” hours; perhaps part of it is simply grace. Who knows, maybe even
part of it is more hours of sunlight, or I’m back to my morning practice, or
less caffeine to feed general anxiety.
But, it’s a strange new beginning development. And, I like
it. I’m not “secure” in it, I don’t feel some overwhelming sense of the order
of the Universe, and a divine calm or serenity. I feel like a more logical,
okay, let’s get ‘er done, sense of order. I guess I’m feeling more prepared.
That’s something that’s come up on some inventory I’ve been
doing around my patterns of secretary job / quit / secretary job / quit. …
school. 😉 The reality is that I’ve had good intentions, but I didn’t have the
information, research, foundation to make any kind of alternate job work. I had
great intentions – hang paintings, sell art, host gallery events – but no idea
who to talk to, where to start, or any real idea of the lay of the land.
I was doing what I sometimes do – take a developmentally
inappropriate step toward something; fall short, of course; then point and say,
see, I told you this path was closed to you.
Instead of simply recognizing that baby steps is where I am.
I really am. Teeny tiny little putterings in some direction or other. Write an
email, make a phone call, listen to others, reach out for help. Not, propose
some grand effort at which I’m marginally qualified.
I feel better coming to recognize where I really am – to
acknowledge that I want a creative arena to be my bread and butter – but I’m
more willing to be open to what that looks like. I’m more willing to “get a
job,” and let the rest fall into place. I don’t have to necessarily earn by
making art – not “right now,” that’s one of those “too big for my britches”
steps. But I can get myself, allow
myself to get to a stable financial place so I can begin making the babysteps
toward that. First things first as they say.
The Philly job is in a creative setting. It also includes
administrative tasks. But, from the description, it could be a great fit. I am
trying to hold the whole thing loosely. There’s a part of me that’s getting really
excited about it – and then there’s the part of me that’s like, dude, 10% of the population is looking for work, chill out, do what’s in front of you, and
be humble.
Yes, AND, it’s nice
to recognize that I’m becoming willing to really understand that school is over
in TWO WEEKS, and it really is time to get a job which affords me the luxury of
3 meals a day… I really like that luxury. Furthermore, on the Philly front, it’s close enough to the
family, without being in NY, where I don’t want to be. I’ve visited often
enough to know, that like here, there’s a variety of socio economic, cultural,
political pockets; the weather is similar to how I grew up – and last time I
was there about 2 or 3 years ago in an October, the leaves changing were like
magic.
Who knows. What I know is that I’m willing to broaden my
search, not run away, do the research, ask for mo-fo’in help, and, at the moment, eat breakfast and go see my
peeps. 

abundance · action · anger · change · faith · freedom · frustration · growth · progress · relationships · romance · self-care · spirituality · work

The Masculine Mystique

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Firstly, I would like to quote an acquaintance of mine as
they responded once to my tirade on SF’s chilly weather – “Then Move.” Touche,
quite right. And I will, just not today.
Secondly, my morning pages were like something out of a
schizo’s notebook this morning, and I’m rather heartened than alarmed by it.
As I began to, again, write that I could paint, a sentence which was followed immediately in my head by the thought, “Yeah, right,” … my morning pages turned
on me, and began a near-two page rejoinder along the lines of Stop Fucking
Saying Yeah Right, and GO DO IT! I channeled the very pissed off and frustrated
voice/part inside me that is exceedingly
tired of the self-defeating, Eeyore-like part of me that crosses all my
interests with a “Yeah, but,” or a “How will I make any money?”
I was happy to see that this activated part was so adamant,
and demanded that I Just Fucking Do It, rather than what I’ve been doing for a
very long time, question, debate, lolly-gag, despair. This voice is the fuck despair
voice. It is the voice, one might say, of my inner masculine.
I’m a little hesitant to draw the dividing line between
feminine and masculine in this way; feminine as pondering and questioning;
masculine as action and fortitude. But, it sort of feels like that to me, and
it’s only my interpretation. There are
plenty of other ways to categorize, or not, these disparate voices and parts of
ourselves. But, for the sake of the argument, I’ll call it my masculine side.
And the truth is, it’s right. Whatever it is, or I call it.
Because this is the point in the job search where I get frustrated and think,
well, nothing will come of it anyway, so phooey, here’s another admin job. My
internal beings of all sorts are having a coup. Nuh, Uh. Time’s up. Off the
pity pot, lady. Get on it.
And further more, Yes, You Can. Furthermore,
to segue,
you/I have very recent experience in NOT behaving as you
would have in the past. You very
recently responded to a situation MUCH differently than factual evidence
had it before. This means … you’re different. You’ve changed. You can do things
now that you couldn’t before, and your mental register aligns with a much
healthier set of behavior and thinking now.
The case in point, is that I was asked to go to the theater
by a boy…man. There is nothing wrong with this person, except that a) I
accepted the extra ticket thinking he has a girlfriend, so I thought it was a friend thing (I found out later he does not), and b) he is new to
the not-drinking world.
Over the last 3 days, I have felt icky – like the princess
and the pea. I know from my own experience that the first few months of not
drinking and trying a whole new way of life – no, not first few months, first
few years (or year, AT LEAST), are so incredibly
formative, that I would be damned to throw a wrench into the wheel works of
someone else’s critical development. I know people who have gotten involved, and it’s
worked out marvelously, but I, surprisingly, was feeling way too uncomfortable
about it.
Sobriety, mine or someone else’s, was way more important to
me than a fucking non-date date. No matter how long it’s been, how intriguing
it is, how fun it could be. Not doing it.
So, through a series of phone calls to friends, and a
confirmation that it’s the respectful thing for us both, yesterday, I texted
the dude and said I’d rather stick to seeing him “around,” than go for coffee.
That I felt “murky” around it.
You know what he said?
“Okay. No worries!”
???!!!
All my f’ing belly aching, and heming and hawing, and “Okay,
No Worries”?? Wow, this honesty thing really f’ing works.
Through a series of circumstances, the timing was different
than he thought, so I get to go see the play by myself and also get to have a
clean, peer-like relationship with this dude. I don’t have to feel weird, or
avoid, or future-trip about it. The play is the bonus prize – the actual prize
is the relief of doing the right and honest thing for myself, and sticking to a
new way of being.
I know from direct experience that I haven’t always
responded that way to someone who was new to not drinking, and I experienced
the fallout of that, however brief it was. I, apparently, have learned from my
experience. And my internal alarm system is calibrated to this new way of
being.
I say all this to say, that my masculine side has a point.
All that writing this morning about Just Do It has a point. The point is that I’m not the person I used to be. I don’t have the same
reactions I used to, and so I don’t have to follow the same actions I used to.
This whole “new way of living” has made itself quite apparent in my life, and I
can allow the boon of that to propel me forward.
I don’t have to be afraid anymore. Afraid there isn’t
enough, or I’m not good enough, or I’ll never make it anyway, or that a
creative life is a stupid one.
In fact, I don’t have these fears anymore, really. They’re
just echoes. There’s nothing real to scare me. There’s no one stopping me, or
chiding me, or making fun of me.
And if there ever is, I apparently have a massive bully to
yell affirmations at them. 
fun · San Francisco

"Summer Lovin’" is Putting it Mildly

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So here’s how I see it: I get to REVEL in the marvelousness of this completely unseasonable
warm, sunny, vibrant climate-change-induced weather. But to make up for it,
I’ll practice conserving water? Deal?
I know it’s awful to
feel like this shadenfreude kind of feeling about the planet – getting off on
the poor withering and decimation of natural resources. However, I gotta tell
you – I probably haven’t felt this open-chested in years.
I. Love. The. Heat. I know Bay Areans are of mixed minds –
most of the locals love the fog and the temperate, mid-range, year-round
temperatures. I, however, can’t stand
that I feel like I never get the time to thaw out properly. This was especially
worse for me when living in SF, and despite my claims of woe-is-me about living
on this side of the bridge, the weather is better.
See, the problem that no one else seems to think is a
problem is that the nice days tend to be COMPLETELY unpredictable. When I moved
here, everyone claimed to high heaven about the “Indian Summer,” i.e. the warmer months of September and October. But in my tenure here in the Bay, each year,
there’s maybe 3 days where it hits 80 or above, but those days are not in a
row. So, really, there’s no predictability,
and no sense, for me, of ease and comfort that comes with the knowledge that
“it’ll be hot this week.” Nope. Not my experience here. Sure, it gets warmer in
those months, but, nevertheless, even so, at 7pm, as soon as the sun hits the
water, the temperature drops radically, and we’re back to the whole “layering”
theme that San Franciscans seem to have learned at birth.
On the east coast, which is all the other experience I have
– well, in South Korea too, — there are seasons. Say it with me people – SEASONS. There are ENTIRE MONTHS when you
have the absolute knowledge that you will not need your winter coat. We call
this Summer. Not qualified Summer. Not Indian Summer. Not mythic summer. Just
damned Summer. We call it wearing tank tops INTO THE NIGHT. We call it warm summer
evenings, sitting out with a glass of iced anything, and the slight coolness just enough to warrant jeans, maybe, but you will NEVER need a jacket in August at
night.
Perhaps this is a rant. But, I’m genuinely chagrined at the
unpredictable nature of weather here. I NEED time to defrost. To thaw out. I
need consistent time to sleep naked with just a sheet and all the windows open. I need to feel
that each and every last cell in my body has sloughed off its introverted
winter layer, and has come out to bask in the glorious healing power of the sun
– my very blood cells want to hoist on an inflatable duckie and high dive into
the glistening pool of hot.
In Judaism, there is a law. If there are two people in a
room, and one is cold, and the other is hot, the cold person gets the say on
changing the temperature – this is an old law, having been written when the
person who was cold was more likely to get sick and die, so it was a
preservation thing. But, I dig that law. I’m ALWAYS cold – unless, of course,
I’m not. Unless I really get to sink into the warmth and sun and gut-releasing,
lung-expanding breaths of sun-caked air. I personally really need the heat.
Furthermore, and I’ll wrap it up, for me, there is
something that feels so closed off about too much coldness. As I’m always on
the colder end of the spectrum, I spend a lot of my time “out” thinking of the
next warm place I’ll be, or just thinking “fuck, i’m cold.” In winter anywhere, you see people huddled into their
coats, marching as fast as possible to the next sanctuary of warmth – and to me, it
just feels so isolating. No one to nod hello to, no one to stop and chat with; you’re inverted, huddled, hurrying, and busy getting somewhere. Summer is quite
the opposite. You laze. You loll. You amble and stroll.
I know this unseasonably warm weather we’re having is just
another death knell of the planet. I realize that perhaps even the very next
generation will have zero concept of what seasons are, as the weather continues
to play “Gotcha!” on all of the coasts. But, I will gladly take an army shower, carry as many
reusable bags as I need to, and even… G-d help me – take public transit, if it
means I get to go outside today wearing a dress, flip flops, and the world’s
goofiest grin. 
action · art · creativity · fortitude · gratitude · inspiration · progress · school · trying

Through the Tunnel

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Well, I suppose I’m better than yesterday. A number of
contributing factors. Met up with friends in the morning, got asked to go see a
play this Sunday, got asked to go to that Dharma Punx meditation group tonight,
made plans with a friend for tomorrow afternoon, made plans with a friend for
Sunday afternoon, got my thesis paperwork signed by the folks I needed and it was
confirmed that the last signature I need can
be gotten on Monday without penalty, was congratulated (even without the
uploading) that I will now have an MFA degree and that that’s an accomplishment
even if I don’t feel it right now, ran into my professor who’s helping me with
next Saturday’s workshop and got some details worked out, got my locker
combination from the sports center and put on the sneakers I’d hidden in there
almost 8 months ago, took a REALLY long walk through the awesome grounds at
school, had a lovely little conversation with a lizard, walked through the
school’s herb and healing plant tour, got some good rehearsal in for acting
class, had some good convo’s with student friends of mine, came home and wrote
the performance piece for May 1st and really like how it turned out,
and then had a long convo with a great friend of mine.
So…. yes, things pass. I needed ALL of that to get through
the funk, and there’s still the lingering notes of Beethoven’s funeral march
playing in the back of my head, but I don’t feel quite nearly as pissy or whiny
as yesterday. This is good.
Plus, I’ll babysit for nearly all of today, and kids, even
though I’m always nervous to babysit for that long of periods (how the f can I
entertain kids that long!), they’ll help me get back into the more playful,
much less self-serious frame of mind.
There was an enormo orange cat perched on the garage
overhang as I was writing my morning pages this morning. I always try to get my
cat to notice these things, and tap vigorously out the window, but she rarely
seems to get it and thinks I’m just playing. D’ah, well.
Luckily, it feels, there’s really nothing more to report.
Getting through my emotional tornado was enough news for me. Oh, I also got a
few new books from the library before my scheduled phone call with this woman
who used to work at galleries, and now works for a law firm or something for
art and artists – i forget exactly what she does, but I wrote it down. I wrote a lot down.
We’ve been trying to schedule this call for nearly a year. I let the thread drop sometime in October, and finally picked it back up
this month. And we finally got to speak. She was really helpful and informative,
as I gather information about what jobs there are in the fine art world. She
asked why I was more interested in the art world than the writing world, and I
said, I guess I just feel so surrounded by writers, that I like the avenue of something
else. Plus, I told her that personally, I love painting because it gives my
brain an alternate route to process and develop things – she said to definitely
use that sentiment in interviews.
Plus, she gave me info on the other worlds of fine art. The
trifecta, apparently, is galleries, museums, and auction houses. She said that
my writing background shouldn’t deter me (as in my lack of fine art/art history
background), that as long as I “present well,” and do good work, there’s no
reason that this world should be prohibited from me. Which is great news.
So, now I have more info on jobs in that field, a website
for fine art jobs to check out, and a contact to run things by. She’s actually
a friend of my ex, and he’d put us in touch a million years ago, so, shout out
to him. I toyed with texting him my thanks, but figured the best thanks is to
just go forward with this work. He doesn’t really need to know. … As my ability
to let go of all outcome or response from him is limited, and it’s better that
I just leave it be. But I am hugely grateful.
A lot got done yesterday. My eyeballs are quite red and dry
from all the computer hours logged, so I’ll be glad to focus on kids today, the
most anti-computer screen-like things of all.
It’s just sloughing off the old, I suppose. Fear is normal,
but really, it’s just boogymen, and I have a massive flashlight powered by all
y’all. So, thanks. 

frustration · progress · school · self-pity · writing

Veysmere.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

I called a friend yesterday to go over the content of the May workshop newsletter, and told her that I’d turned in my final copy of my thesis, and she
asked how I felt – if I was excited. Decidedly not, I replied. There’s all the
administrative rigamarole to go through before I can call this chapter of my
life closed. Turns out one of the professors won’t be on campus to sign off on my
thesis – literally, sign it – so I now have to see what my options are without
that signature as the thing is due tomorrow. But I’ve seen some chatter about
Monday being “okay,” but I have to find out.
I’m SO over it. Over it all. I don’t really give a crap. I’m
tired, and broke, and exhausted, and unhappy.
Like today’s blog? 
Sorry for the Debby Downer moment, but
really, I’m tired of this crap. I get
that I graduate with a Master’s degree, but it doesn’t feel that cool anymore.
It feels like a lot of hoops at the moment, and I have no clue what any of it
will “get” me. I began lamenting in my morning pages the same, and then started
to write all the awesome shit that I’ve done and learned in the last year and a
half. How two years ago, I was in a job in a dysfunctional organization where
my position was going to be cut, and I made the decision, finally, to go back
to school.
I know that I’ve done a lot. But it doesn’t feel “worth it”
at the moment. I feel tired and lonely and despairing of what the fuck I’m
doing with my life. I feel … self-pitying, I suppose.
And I know some practical cures for it, and I know it’ll
pass. But right now, I feel like there are too many demands on me, and my
health is fucked up, and phooey.
You may know this isn’t typical for me. I do have some minor
tantrums now and then, but this moroseness and lethargy is not typical. I get
that it’s time limited, and “once xyz is done” then I’ll be better. But I’m
fucking tired of having to do xyz and THEN being better. 
Once the thesis is handed
in. 
Once the thesis is signed off. 
Once the thesis is uploaded. 
Once the school
workshop is done. 
Once the May workshop is advertised. 
Once the flyers are up. 
Once graduation happens. 
Once … what? 
And then What?
It’s not delayed gratification. I’m not sure where the
fucking gratification is. It’s like some carrot on a stick. One more stupid
thing, and then I’ll be happy? Then I’ll know what the fuck to do with my life? One more stupid flight of fancy, and I’ll be stable and secure and loved?
What the fuck? I KNOW it’s all ridiculous, and I thank any
of you who have read this far into my pity party. But, … I am tired. I don’t want any more hoops. I want to be
done. I don’t want to feel so damn lost. I don’t have a fucking clue where I’m
going – what I’m doing – what I want to be doing – where I want to be doing it.
I feel like a toddler and a teenager, without the freedom of their
understandable childishness.
No, I’m not relieved that the stupid thing is done. I don’t
care a fuck about it. It’ll go on a shelf somewhere. Yes, I did it. But so the
fuck what? How many fucking people have Master’s degrees and PhDs and work for
f’ing starbucks. Literally. I went out yesterday, one of my two ventures off
this stupid couch, to get food for my cat, and the woman who works there and I
chat usually, and she said that THREE PhDs applied for her counter job the last
time they were hiring. A PhD. Selling cat toys. Wtf.
Yes, today will give me plenty of opportunities to move out
of or through this funk. Yes, even yesterday, I reached out to a few folks to
make happy plans, get out of myself and this poopiness. I know it’ll pass. I know
other people see it’ll pass, but in the moment, it’s just ass.
Thank you for coming to my pity party. I wish I’d gotten you
a hat.
(*Veysmere = Vey is mir = “woe is me” in yiddish. “Oy vey” is a shorthand.)

balance · crazy · recovery · school · self-care

Elephantitis.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, I gotta admit, I’m feeling a little discombobulated this
morning, and I’m not really sure what’s up. It’s like a wrong side of the bed,
but not cranky, just, off. Like the films aren’t aligned properly. Not sure.
Maybe as the day progresses, it’ll wear off. It’s threatening to be a gorgeous
day, so I’ll hopefully spend some of it outside, or at least in a café,
working.
Part of the discomfort is that I think I spent too many
hours hunched over my computer yesterday, working on both my thesis and the info
blast for May’s workshop. My neck muscles literally cracked when I turned to
shut off my alarm – ouch. Stiff and unhappy. Computers and health may not be
aligned either. Balance, I suppose.
I got the final copy of my thesis back from friends yesterday,
and began my final edits. The folks I gave it to were really helpful and
specific, which offset the entirely vagueness of my professors’ notes. I am marinating on a few changes that may happen – a word here, to delete
one or two poems there.
The nude suit is back in. By the way. I had my performance poetry class last
night, and spoke about my new idea, and that it may not warrant a nude suit,
but folks encouraged me, and said, basically, why the F not. Pretty much
anything that I’d get up there to say will be about getting down to the/my authentic, naked self. The professor said that it adds something visually, it
doesn’t matter what the content is. So,
now, the hunt for a nude-colored body suit. I have a hunch where I’ll find one,
and as I just got asked to babysit this Friday, I’ll have the funds to fund it.
Although he’s a little hesitant for me to be working on a
brand new piece for the performance, which is in less than two weeks, I’m
pretty confident that I can bust it out – as soon as I put pen to paper.
There’s SO much divided demands right now, is all. Each thing is important,
none can be “dropped,” and hardly any back-burnered, but this piece has been,
and I’ll do my best to crank it out in the next day or so. It won’t take long.
I have it mapped out in my head. I’ll post it when it’s done.
That’s really all that’s up right now – these school
demands, and the crunch time lead-up to both next Saturday’s workshop, and
May’s workshop. Each are going to require some more input from me. And I just
feel really thin at the moment. Only one person has actually registered for the
workshop next weekend, though a few have Facebook responded. But, I’m certainly
aware of the habit people have – myself included – of clicking “attend” to
something they have only a vague passing notion of attending. So, I’ll have to
blast that out again – if you get the email again, forgive me, but I sorta need
to know how many folks will be there. Like, if there’s really only one…!
Also, I have to print flyers for the May workshop, and I
need to do color copy cost research for that, and then I’m going to ask a
friend to help me drive around to various places in the Bay to post them up.
So, I’ve got to reach out for that.
Ack. You can see, perhaps, why I feel all off. I tried to
meditate some this morning, and got a few deep breaths, but not too much
grounding. Maybe today is a multiple attempt at meditation day.
There’s something I heard once: a guy said that on most days
he meditates a half hour, but on the days he’s really busy, he meditates an
hour.
That actually makes sense to me. Now, maybe I’m not the
hour-long meditator type, but I’ve sat in a few circles for 40 minutes. It’s
HARD … in the beginning. Then I sort of sink into it – once my brain has had
its say around what feels like 20 minutes or so of, OMIGOD are we done yet???
But, like working out, or something, once you get into it, you forget that you
hated it in the beginning few minutes. The adrenaline starts to pump, or in
meditation land, the serenity does. … Sometimes. Not always. Sometimes it’s 40
minutes, or in my case, 10 minutes of laundry list, punctuated by a few, oh
yeah, deep breath, follow the breath, touch down, just notice – I have to get
quarters for laundry – do I have any dollar bills – I love the sound the
machine makes when the quarters are changed, like in Vega– oh, right, breathe
in …
So, maybe today requires a little more grounding. I’ll go
meet up with some folks later today and have a bit of brain drain for an hour
or so, but, this is part of my self-care. The only way I can balance all that
I’ve got going on, is if I can let myself get balanced first.
I feel like that unicycle circus dude with the poles and the
plates balanced on top. I’d like to feel like the elephant, rooted and pressing
into the earth. 

community · finances · responsibility · school · self-support · work

Thru my own contributions

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

So, to catch you up on the caffeine reduction experiment,
it’s still going, and going rather well – the one cup of regular, followed by
as much decaf and black tea as necessary. Which haven’t been hugely necessary –
but I’m still in the throes of the equalizing. There have been a few (like 2 or
3) days of 2 or 3 cups, which I think are prolonging the experiment, but
overall, I haven’t felt like I miss it. Although, I’m still rather pooped in
the mornings. I think this is more to do with my bed time than my start time
though. With the experiment, I think I need to allow myself to be in bed
earlier, and for a few days, I was, even a week or so, I was pretty diligent
about it – but I’ve fallen off.
It’s time to get back on schedule though. Yesterday, I was
up and out, semi-early, but not my normal early, to do some last minute errands
with the car before I returned it – G-d bless Enterprise car rental. (They
allow you to rent a car w/ a debit card, and the rates really aren’t that bad –
granted, I split the whole cost with my friend from NJ.) But after my bout of
exertion, I spent the rest of the day on my couch doing much of nothing – which
I spent a lot of this morning’s pages lamenting about – but, I can’t drink
yesterday’s orange juice today (as they say – as in, I can’t get double
nutrients, or activity, etc, today, in order to make up for yesterday – each
day is set new) – so there’s no use, really, in bemoaning my vegetative state!
What is wonderful to notice though, is that because I’ve
been using this tool of a daily schedule, planning in the morning when I’ll do
my R+D (i.e. income generating actions) and when I’ll do homework, or art, or
walk, or … nap, it’ll be much easier for me to get back onto track. Especially
with the end of school creeping up like a midnight stalker.
Thesis is due on Friday, signed, sealed, and delivered. I’m
getting the last copy of my manuscript that’s out there to friends back this
morning, and then today, spend time editing it all together. In the meantime,
I’m also supposed to be writing this new script for the performance class, and
I feel so far away from it – though, again, I was writing some about it this
morning, and think it’s doable and interesting and fun. But, thinking about it,
and doing it are two different things.
I bought this book recently called “Steal like an Artist.”
My friend and I were in the millionth Bay Area bookstore this weekend – though
surprisingly, not bored by them – and I saw this book on the counter. I picked
it up, read the first little bit, and thought, I’d love to underline and
highlight this sucker. So Many Gems. So,
I bought it. As you may know, I’m not a book buyer. I am a library fanatic – as
outstanding debts to several libraries have informed me over the years. (I
actually didn’t receive a diploma the day I graduated and “walked” for my
undergrad – inside the fancy black folder all embossed and engraved with the
school emblem … was a note that said, you owe the library $45 – please submit
to release your diploma. … Ha. Funny part is, I still had the books, knew
precisely where they were, I just hadn’t returned them, for no particular
reason. … a “quality to let go,” one may say, which I still need to let go.)
In any case, this book was not something I’d read and
shelve, never to see again, this was a reference book, in many ways. I’m
enjoying reading it, and getting a lot of great info from it – I recommend – go
buy 😉
One thing I will say it mentioned was an economic theory
that if you average your 5 best friends’ incomes, yours will be somewhere
around there. So, I began to think about my 5 best friends. The one on
unemployment, the one living on student loans, and the few others who are
earning income, but I realized that, yeah, my income is certainly somewhere
between nada and something modest. It’s not
a judgment of my best friends – moreso, it tells me something about myself –
and the truth that I know it’s time for me to make changes.
I am making them. Slowly. I met with a few folks on Sunday
to talk about income strategies, finance stuff – and a very interesting fact of
clarity came out of the conversation. As I’m working on this Creativity &
Spirituality workshop – one for free at school this month, and one for fee in SF next
month – we calculated that if I fill the workshop in May, as in completely full
(20 people) at the rate we agreed was adequate (balancing my modest skill level
with the value of my work and time), I’d earn nearly my entire expense costs
for a month. This, is really good news.
But also brings up fear of the future – does that mean I have to do the
workshop monthly – can I? How do you garner enough interest to make it
sustainable? Won’t I continually be marketing to the same people? How do I
branch out?
And then, I bring it back into the day. Today, I just need
to focus on what’s in front of me. I do
have to focus quite a bit, I realize, on the marketing of the workshop in May,
but that’s it right now. I have some great pointers, and I’m rather good at
that stuff, and I know a crap load of people, and I have a crap load of
resources to call on. Further, I won’t just be hitting up the people I know – as, duh, yes, that would be
annoying to them, and that’s not a sustainable resource – but I will also be
expanding my reach to new venues, and new networks – as people have told me
they’d love to spread the word in circles I’d never have access to ordinarily.
So, it is all the more important that I recover my bit of
structure with my daily schedule, as I had been, and that I get to sleep on
time so that I’m present enough to sow the seeds of self-support.

balance · performance · poetry · progress · self-care

Reframe.

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

In a stroke of inspiration, I have produced both
disappointment and excitement. Disappointment, as I’m not sure I’ll wear a nude
body suit for my Performance Poetry class final performance. Excitement, as I
think I know what my piece will be about.
As I’d mentioned, I needed to see if the whole brazen nude
body suit thing would be supported by the content of the work – why wear that
if you’re going to tell lyrical poems about cherry blossoms? This morning,
however, I believe I was struck with the inspiration paddle, and think I know
what my piece will be about.
Originally, it was to likely be about a woman’s relationship
with her body, how it waffles between ownership by self, and ownership by
others, including mainstream media, etc. But, I feel that I’ve covered a lot of
that for now in my thesis work, and although, sure, that’s an issue that’s
present or “up” in my life, as I began fleshing some of the new idea out in my
morning pages this morning, I think I’ve found something riper, funnier, more relatable,
and interesting. I’ll keep you posted.
I’ve started using a different morning pages notebook, as
I’d finished my last a few days ago. It’s thinner than the last, but much
larger pages, which equals much longer writing in the morning. (It’s also made
from post-recycled materials, so it’s not new growth trees being cut down so I
can write, I wonder what the Harry Potter
stars are up to now – which, yes, occurred this morning along with all the
else.)
I was a bit intimidated to be writing these 3 long hand
pages much longer – would I have enough to “fill” it? What more could I
possibly have to say. But I actually think this new length is just right for
me. It’s longer than the last, and is giving me the room to get further into
stuff before I wrap it up or end. Which is partly why I think my new idea for
my performance came about – there’s more room to work it out, and watch it
stumble across my page.
On another note. My friend left yesterday, and my little
space is my own again. Driving to the airport at 5am will a) make you
appreciate a rental car, and b) cause the skipping of my morning blog
yesterday, so please forgive. I was a bit pooped and outward energy depleted
from the trip.
It was very good practice, though, I believe. To wake up and
have a person there. To go to sleep and have a person there. Granted, on the
pull out couch, but still. I’ve been a solitary bird here in my apartment for a
long time, and having another human here … well, was interesting to notice how
I act and react.
Part of me is enormously proud that I got in most of my
morning practices, and I stayed within my spending plan for her trip, and
brought lots of snacks and meals with me so I didn’t have to eat out very much
at all. Part of me is very acutely aware of how other-centered I become in the
presence of someone a) so close to me, and b) who’s in my space almost 24/7.
But, the good news, is that I noticed it. And I began to do
my best to reign back in my codependency. I don’t need to complete your sentence. I don’t need to add in my two cents about your story with my own.
I don’t need to be thinking of
how to respond or what I’ll say next to keep the conversation interesting and
exciting.
It was hard, honestly, in the few times that I consciously
thought, I can let this thread lie. I don’t need to pick it up. It wasn’t that
I was being cold, or uncommunicative. But when there came moments when I
certainly had my opinion, or an alternate opinion, I didn’t have to voice it. I could let my friend state her opinion
or share her story without having to add in my own or contradict or augment
what had already been said.
Some moments, it felt to me like there was a huge, blatant
gap in the space when I was usually “supposed to” say something. And it felt
awkward and uncomfortable for a moment – within me. Surely, she didn’t realize
anything, and a new thread of conversation would be picked up immediately. But
I noticed. I noticed, basically, that I was holding my tongue.
Which, I suppose, leads me back toward my own center. I
don’t have to put out every idea or thought in my head. I can let myself rest
in the calm of a conversation, or someone else’s story. This isn’t a very
frequent habit of mine, usually. Although, I do tend toward the loquacious
side, with my friend from New Jersey, we’ve spent so many years as the other’s
half, it’s “natural” to want to just chitter chatter away. But, I realized it’s
exhausting.
She, again, was not asking me to contribute in a way that
was depleting. And it also comes back my former habit of accepting jobs I don’t
want, when they’re not asking me to give from my dregs. If I take care of my
center, notice that my focus is somewhere in between me and another person, me
and a job, and can bring it back to myself, and sit, sometimes in the
discomfort of not engaging in a behavior that leaves me feeling depleted, then I
get the chance to give from my best, and also, to simply rest in the
companionship of another person.

authenticity · friendship · integrity · self-care

Tourist Center

Molly Daniels HayesLeave a comment

Some of the things we’ve gotten to do: drive to Sonoma and
eat cheese samples at the Cheese Factory, and a coffee from Hot Shots, the
drive-through coffee joint. Walk part way across the Golden Gate Bridge from
the Marin county northern side. Stop by Crissy Field and take touristy pictures
of ourselves, and a few for the fellow tourists, looking out toward Angel
Island and Alcatraz, and of course the copper-crimson of the bridge itself.

We ate at Green Chili, the wonderful, all grass fed, all
hippie, sustainable Mexican restaurant. We ate at Fenton’s, the local ice
creamery here in Oakland, in a wonderful bout of yum. And last night, at
Mission Pie – my thanks to that guy I briefly dated for introducing me to it!
We’ve also been to an art opening at a gallery in Berkeley,
and last night, a weird white box studio in a factory in a not so hot part of
Oakland. We left before the performance began. It was a tiny room with a
modge-podge assortment of chairs, and an even more motley crew of people. It
was obvious that we didn’t really fit in with what was going on, and as we both
agreed prior to going that we’d leave if it were “weird,” and my friend also
felt a bit of Bay Area culture shock, we left. I wasn’t disappointed – but I
was glad we went, if only for the experience of being a sociologist in a
strange sub-culture of the Bay.
Truth is, I haven’t had much thought to much of anything, as
we’ve been driving hither and thither, and also then resting some, and
gossiping and catching up and laughing and eye rolling, and it’s been fun, and
I’ve been doing my best to take care of myself with bringing food with me so I
don’t have to buy any, and with getting up in time to do my morning pages and
this blog. But, I haven’t been meditating at all, and I do feel a bit off
center. I notice that my focus is pulled by the other person, and suddenly, or
slowly, my center is somewhere between us, instead of within myself.
This is codependent, but also our long history. We’ve been
this way for 3 decades, it won’t shift for me over night. But I’m aware of it.
I’m aware that I’ve been cursing more, and interrupting more, and adding in
bits of my own stories when hers aren’t complete, as if I validate myself or
her experience by adding in my own two cents. When, really, I can just listen.
I’m noticing that more this morning, and being attentive to letting the other
person finish. What I have to say isn’t important enough to interrupt another
person. And granted, it doesn’t “sound” interrupty – it sounds like a dovetail,
like I’m adding to the conversation – but it’s not a conversation when one
person is telling a story, and it sparks 8 thousand other thoughts you want to
get out immediately.
But I recognize too, that I’m also excited and happy to be
able to share all this stuff, that there is this manic sort of energy to catch
up, and share stories, and give opinions, and laugh about people we knew or
know, and just share about our families new events. We grew up basically living
in the other person’s house. We’re more like sisters than anyone I’ve been in a
relationship with – and family sometimes brings out the best, and sometimes the
worst in you.
I’m not going to beat myself up for not having taken a
breath in a few days, or not letting her finish her thoughts. I’m simply going
to rectify the situation, as they say, as soon as I am able.
This morning, I’ll go meet with some folks and have a few
minute meditation, and get recentered, and come back, I hope, with a renewed
sense of camaraderie and ownership of my center. I don’t need to be anything
more or less than I actually am. I don’t need to interrupt to make sure I’m
heard, or valid, or liked. I don’t need to curse to show that I’m hip or cool,
or get sweet dessert things to be hip or cool. I can be me, a woman who needs
to meditate, not eat sugar, and pack her lunch. Who has valid things to say
when the moment is appropriate, and can listen with an open ear, instead of my
own running dialogue – which is exhausting.