1/7/12

1/7/12

I like to eat, drink, and smoke.

I stick stickers and burn candles.

I wear and patch holes in my jeans.

I rock Vans till they shred.

I use tools and people for what they were design for... and beyond

I am not a reservationist nor a conservative.

I am a consumer.

1/7/12

Every fall I plant bulbs on Sugar's grave in Teresa's back yard.

It's in a spot on the edge of the yard next to the garden shed

which she shares with Bonnie

a cat who passed not too long after lil Shuggs.

It's been two autumns.

There's got to be over 100 daffodil bulbs in there.

This year I also planted purply-indigo 'Blue Moon' tulips.

I hope the squirrels don't dig them up and eat them.

RIP Sugar and Bonnie.

1/7/12

Today a coworker asked me if I had a garden when the subject heirloom tomatoes came up... knowing I really don't have my 'own' space.

It struck me as preposterous...'Do I have a garden !?!'.

It's impossible for me not to.

No matter if I have a yard or not, wherever I spend my time will be a garden.

I thank the universe for this one positive, amazing, and healing habit.

A gift synonymous with passion.

1/6/12

1/6/12

Back from the hiatus. Back with a new mission.

September was the last time I wrote and the passed three months have been full of predictable decisions and unforeseen changes.

I ended my 'Growing Season in Phoenicia' early in October and said goodbye to my fantastic garden and new friends.

I booked a flight to Seattle to find out once and for all if my old love and had anything left... if there was any love left in my heart (or enough insanity still left in my mind) to make a relationship with him work.

I believe I knew the answer all along, but I needed to officially close the door. The finale. This seemed impossible to do over the phone.

Three weeks later I was back in the east, staying with my friend in NJ, and working a rad job with plants. I think my window of opportunity was open and just waiting for me to shut the front door.

1/6/12

During the last 8 years, I have moved every two. Started over, usually out of state. A new job. A new set of roads. A new beginning. Semi-nomadic. Gypsy-like.

I don't believe I enjoy it necessarily, at least, not so much as I did in my more youthful days.

I do love and require new situations and places. Exploring. Learning. Making it my town.

But at times I feel like a transient.

My life really can be packed up and shipped for about $100.

Low in the material possessions department which would be great if I was walking the Buddhist path or traveling the world, neither of which I'm currently undertaking.

I long for 'stuff'. I want sweet vintage furniture and my grandma's collectables.

I want windows turned into jungles by crowded houseplants.

I want two dogs.

I want my bed and a kick-ass teapot.

I want a place to call my own.

No one's fault but my own that I don't have these things yet...or gave them up ( I will never sell my records again!). Years spent living in destructive relationships and horrible decision making put me here. Poor and couch-surfing between a friend's and my brothers'.

It could be much worse. After all I wouldn't want to spend my time with any other people; and I am not on the streets. I still feel like a gypsy packing up my shit every few days to stay in my hometown during the workweek, and woodsy weekends up in the highlands.

I'm not complaining... really.

I'm just calculating the effect time has on resilience.

Patience is a big player in the equation.

Savin' the $ flow, so my roots can grow.