First Official

Spent the first night in my new place on an actual bed last night. Well, ok, so it's a mattress on the floor, only a minor step above a blow-up camping mattress, but I actually showered this time on account of having moved all my bathroom related junk over.

While in the shower this morning, I looked around, and realized that this is the first place I've lived in... what... jeebus... uh... many years. (T's: Weird mini 1' deep square tub. Superior St.: Short tub that was kind of icky. OB's house: Tiny tub. Warehouse: No tub, shower was a shower head sticking out of the bathroom wall, and a hole in the rubber lined bathroom floor. Rockstar house: Icky gross bathroom and boy roommates. Stuttgart: Weird tiny German tubs. Finally - Shauna's house in Minneapolis: Full sized claw foot tub, but never took baths due to not wanting to hog the only bathroom.) Many, that had a tub suitable for taking baths. Goddamn! Sweet!

The tub in the new place is regular sized, and clean. The sort of clean where the porcelain has been obviously scrubbed down many times, but pristine white. I squeaked a little bit, after years of hearing girls discuss the joys of bath bombs, and going into Lush shops only to have to overlook a huge amount of lovely smelly product due to it being strictly bath related (Uh, yeah, I'm a Lush fan, wanna make something of it?) this was certainly a happy discovery.

Maybe it's all because after this week of 14 hour work days to launch a huge project, while trying to move all my shit to a new place, a bath sounds like a really fantastic idea.

Anyway. I'm not sure I'm digging being in a lower flat. I had a choice of the upper or lower, but the upper is carpeted, and the lower is a little nicer with hardwood floors and a dishwasher. While unpacking some things last night I realized that leaving windows open is going to freak me out a little. Mostly because of this. Some of which occurred a block from my place. Sheeeit. At least they caught him, and the whole neighborhood is pretty vigilant about watching out for each other being on the border of the ghetto, but still, I'm going to have to find that cam shaft out of a small block Chevy that Justin gave me years ago and keep it by my bed, I mean, mattress on the floor.

Other than that, I slept better last night than I have in weeks, although I don't remember my mattress being quite that stiff, got used to having a luxe pillow top and was spoiled I guess. Viva la bed all to yourself!

What the Stars Would Say

For almost every entry into and exit from a relationship I've ever had, I've done astrological compatibility readings. Now, before you start calling me out on my insistence that even though I have dreadlocks, I'm not a fucking hippy, please understand that I don't live or die by my natal chart, and big part of me thinks it's all a pile of hooey. That said, I've seen enough correlation in enough relationships that I think there's a kernel of truth there, and even if it is all bullshit, having something to springboard yourself into thoughts about how you interact with other people isn't a bad thing in my eyes.

So in my search for understanding what happened between me and the T, I found this:
   "As long as the two of you can avoid playing the "insensitive bully versus vulnerable martyr" act"

And that instantly made a few things make sense. Since the beginning, I was irritated every time T would tell me, or our friends, that I was mean and demanding and "the boss" when it was entirely not true. I'd call him out on it and he'd say that it was just because he thought it was funny, but through repetition, I think we both started to believe what he was saying. I realize about myself that I can be quite caustic, and sometimes mean, but it's never out of spite or just to be nasty. I don't tease people to be cruel or hurtful. My meanness is poorly communicated honesty, which I recognize and have been working on. My bad moods are misunderstood quietness from a fairly even temper that is slow to excite or anger.

I grew weary of being thought of as a bad person by the same person who said they loved me more than anyone else ever, and by myself. I was starting to believe it.

Then there are the things within myself that I know about already, and have mentioned in other postings.
   "Aries people need to have a goal. Without the goal, life is meaningless. The goal can be long-term or short-term (short-term is usually best, since this sign isn't endowed with vast quantities of patience), but there must be a shining vision at the end of the chase. The Aries partner needs a quest, and is constitutionally incapable of settling into chronic domesticity without the feeling that there's a new challenge just around the corner."

As much as I want to fight that tendency, it always factors in.

Burn Baby Burn

Finally! Photos of me spinning fire staff.
Last night was a New Moon Spin Jam at the beach, and send off for some of our group who are headed out to Burning Man next week. After lots of unlit lunchtime practicing, it's starting to feel really comfortable and I'm getting sort of good at it. Since my career in track riding is probably going to go on hiatus for a good long while, it's nice to have this activity to satiate adrenaline rush needs.

Living Room Doubles as Campground

On an impulse, when I thought Beth and I were going to Burning Man, I bought a tent and sleeping bag. We're not going on account of last minute planning and lack of funding. On the suggestion of a couple coworkers, I decided to camp in my new apartment last night since I've been having trouble sleeping at T's place anyway.

After burning on the beach and then going out for a couple drinks, (being single is really hard on my liver, not to mention my lungs since I've started smoking again) I went to the new place to set up my tent in the living room, in front of the fake fireplace. Well, it turns out that the little, cheap, lightweight, backpacker's tent I'd purchased needs to be staked out in order to stand up, which made it totally useless on hardwood floors. (I'm sure the landlord would not appreciate me staking into the floor.) I didn't want to set it up outside because I don't know my neighbors and the neighborhood is on the border of sketchy areas, so I skipped the tent, and slept under the vast "sky" of coved ceiling and beautiful woodwork instead.

Decided to keep the stuff set up so that I can do it again if I don't get my bed moved this weekend since I've been crashing at friend's places here and there and don't like to impose.

Staying true to actual camping, my planning involved a change of clothes and a pillow, but completely forgot about towels and a toothbrush, so today, I steeenk. As for the tent, that stupid thing is being returned. What good is a tent if you can't set it up in your living room? I mean, c'mon.

Erased

When I moved out of the Old Badness' house, I made an attempt to erase myself from his life. I dug out the first postcard I sent him and took it along with a few other things. This was mostly due to the fact that they were lumped in with all the letters from all the other ex girlfriends, and it was my way of defining the boundaries that my relationship with him after the breakup was going to be different than the relationship he had with them. That I wasn't going to allow myself to become and issue between him and whomever he ended up with next, unlike the issues we had with all of his other ex girlfriends.

This time around, I didn't want to erase myself from T's life, because unlike the OB, he's a genuinely good guy. I'm hoping that moving out and being separated would allow us to hang out and have fun again without the daily drudgery of living together, but he seems to be erasing me himself. The rational mind knows that that's his way of dealing, and hopefully healing, and he has every right to cope with the breakup in whatever way he needs to, but the emotional mind, well it still makes me terribly sad.

I have no interest in erasing him. If our relationship is disintegrating, maybe that's what needs to happen to allow for it to eventually be put back together again in a shape that works better for both of us.

Perfect for a knitting metaphor - if a stitch isn't working with yarn that you love, when it's the right color or texture or weight, but the piece is misshapen, you pull it apart and start over. Yeah, the yarn will be all kinked and bent out of shape, possibly even a big knotted up messy ball, but once it's knit back into something that works, the deformities are all pulled out and disappear and you end up with something better than before.

I Wanna Go Fast

It pains me to post these, because I snagged them off of the photographer's website which I really should be purchasing but can't because that $65 need to go towards paying rent this month. Anyway, at least I can give here props - she's a great photographer, and super cool to boot.

These are a couple shots from a trackday at Road America last weekend. I'm still a mile away from getting my knee down, but damn that was a super fun track to ride. That's Ike behind me, the riding coach for the group I was in.

Rubbing It In

If you didn't already know, Mr. T and I broke up a couple weeks ago. It's been hard to write about in public places, but it seems it's been long enough that it's not salt in the wounds.

I think it was a long time coming. Dispite our being the absolute most perfect couple on paper, the application of it hasn't been working out quite right. It could be blamed on Aries/Pisces conflict, the water puts out the fire, and the fire makes the water steam. We never communicated well. It could have been that it's impossible for me to cohabitate with anyone, this isn't the first time this has happened. I don't know, it's frustrating that I can't pinpoint what went wrong, because I still deeply care for him and his daughter. Just typing that makes me incredibly sad.

On the other hand, I signed a lease on a new flat last night, and I spent about an hour taking pictures, measuring rooms, drawing little diagrams and was consumed by the joy of having a new place that I absolutely love. There are trees and birds and grass and lots of space, and the knowledge that I'll be alone, with my own space again.

Last weekend, I got to spend a little time with a group of people I had just gotten to know. One of the guys, who is a bit older than me, and very goofy, but also very smart made an observation after seeing Mr. T and I interact. I was shocked, because I hadn't considered it, and it was completely astonishing that someone could read me so well. He said that it's obvious that I'm over it, while Mr. T isn't, and at the same time he can't imagine anyone ever lasting very long with me, and that it would be hard for people to keep up. I don't think that I'm hard to keep up with, but I do get bored and listless pretty easily.

I just stared at him, blankly, turning that over in my brain. It's true, but it's something that I've been repressing for a long time. I am the most unhappy when standing still, and the gravity of being unhappy just drags me further down. Which is really too bad for anyone kind hearted enough to hang around and tolerate it.

So, there it is again, the edge of the abyss, toes curled over for grip before jumping in.

More Fire Tool Photos

Practice was cancelled tonight on account of some rain, so I dumped a bunch of photos off of my camera and found the shots from Bastille Days.

Marilyn with poi

Gene with staff

Gene with ball and chain


...more ball and chain

and more

Beth with hoop

Beth on the ground with hoop

Beth, Marilyn, and Anna hooping

3 hoopers

Basic Fire Tool Primer

So far I've gotten to light up four times now, the last time was an impromptu performance downtown during Gallery Night which was the first time I lit up with my new tool - a fancy aluminum contact staff that had just arrived from New Zealand. I'm liking staff more than poi because it seems like dancing and movement is easier and more important, kind of like with hooping.

A few people have gotten really confused and/or curious when I talk about spinning fire so it seems like a good idea to show a few pics of what it looks like.

These shots are of SnowFire members during Riversplash, earlier this summer and a first attempt at photographing fire performance so the shots are not that great yet.

Anna with Poi

Eric with Poi

Eric on the ground with Poi and Gene with Staff

Beth and Anna Hooping

I think there's some shots from Bastille days on my camera, so once I get them off I'll post a few more.

Cuteness Overload

While looking for some fire spinning pics, I came across a bunch of weird pictures of the cats, and hey - I haven't posted ridiculous/meant to be somewhat ironic cat photos in a while so here you go.

Lola likes to sit on/in things, like the sink, or like when she tries wearing my pants:


Unbeknownst to me, Mr. T has a habit of taking pictures of the cats on me when I fall asleep on the couch:


Then there's the sneak shots he gets when I am awake, but encumbered by a cat and cannot protest having my picture taken:


(I guess I wear things on my head a lot at home)


So once, I was able to get him back:

Fame Tracker for the Sockmonkey Suit: Part 4

It's finally going to be on! Set your VCRs and TiVos!