I am incredibly tired of going to sleep crying and waking up in the same condition, sometimes repeatedly until the alarm clock goes off. I'm tired of soldiering through the day and pretending to be ok. I feel like writing This Is Not OK! on the bathroom mirror.

It's so pointless.

But I keep doing these things anyway. Every day, I make myself get up. Every night, curl up in a ball and try to sleep. Get up again in the morning. Over and over. Because: i have this idiotic idea that you wouldn't like the alternative. That's why.

I think I am going to scream if I see one more man that resembles you in some very remote way, and is not.

And: wtf? Turbo Tax didn't save the wage info?? Forget it. I'll just file the paper version and skip the fees.

I got a lot done last night: washed half of the brown Icelandic fleece and a piece of white Icelandic, all of the alpaca leg and neck wool, finished spinning 4 oz of mohair/wool/bamboo yarn and then set the twist on it, the mohair yarn and two others.

Found some laceweight crochet scarf patterns today and am looking forward to giving this a try. I know that knitting is classier, but knitting isn't fun in the same way crochet is. I should learn it anyway (then I could make my own lovely wool socks) but until then....

And now I really need to get offline and work on those color studies, washing laundry, checking on the washed fiber which is now drying, etc.

I seem to be allergic to the lovely soft kid mohair yarn. Not sure why. It would suit my daughter really well though, so will still make a nice soft scarf. She loves soft things, it'll be a nice surprise.

The psychologist who was doing my neuro-psych eval just died, very unexpectedly. I am having a really hard time wrapping my head around this and bringing it from the world of abstraction to that of reality.
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I hadn't been working with her for very long, only for the purpose of the neuro psych eval... but I felt close to her because she was an aspie, too. She understood me in a way that other therapists usually do not. There was so much that I did not have to explain or waste time on, because it was already understood. Even when people are informed about Asperger's, they don't truly understand it from the inside; it just is not the same.

And I guess....that even though you're not aspie, there's this element with you as well. I felt understood in a way that other people can work at for years and never really achieve. It was like....like the difference in playing chess with someone who's never played before, and someone who sees 6 moves ahead, if one were to look at a chess game as a type of communication rather than as civilized warfare. It's the kind of thing that can't be faked or replaced or substituted for. When I communicate with other people, it's like talking to someone who speaks another language. It's so much work, there's so much that gets lost in translation, so much that doesn't get said. Even when both parties are trying their best, I still typically end up feeling misunderstood or only partly understood. No doubt the other person feels that way too. It leaves me feeling so lonely and that's nobody's fault, it's just the way it is.

It's such an empty world.
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She was just here last week. Now she's gone. People die all the time. All the time, every second of every day, irreparable, unfillable holes are being left in lives from one side of the world to the other. What are we to make of this?

I always say that people don't really die, that they always live on in our hearts and in the ways that they've changed our lives, through their influence on the world and those around them. But I think maybe this is something I just say because it sounds good and is an easy sort of denial. :-/

Please don't ever die. Even if I never see or speak to you again, I don't think I could live in a world without you in it.

I have to somehow get a grip and try to get on with my life. I'm always behind on things that need to be done. For example, I haven't finished doing my taxes or applying for financial aid. I have to move in June and have no leads on housing. It's mid March and I haven't germinated a single vegetable seed, because I don't know where to plant the transplants once the weather warms up.

I don't know how to explain to people that planning anything a month or two or even a few weeks in advance is abstract and almost surreal when you cannot see to the end of the week. I've been trying to plan little things here and there to look forward to....things like helping my friend (is she my friend? I really don't know. How many people are there who I think of as friends who don't think of me the same way??) shear her sheep. This weekend I'll be helping her out with another fiber/hand spinning related endeavor.

I have the books back that I wanted to do color studies from, so I'll try to work on that tomorrow, along with going to the Quaker meeting. Finish spinning the kid mohair tonight, ply it and start crocheting the shawl pattern I selected for it. This is a wide mobius strip shawl. With the lovely soft mohair, it will drape really nicely and feel very luxurious, soft and comforting. :-)

This is the trick: to make small goals, small things to look forward to.

And by the way: despite failing the (only) test due to internet outage mid-test, I am still getting a B in my Abnormal Psychology class. With the remaining tests and research papers (I can do more for extra credit), I'll be able to bring it up to an A fairly easily. :-)

In the general theme of the day... (and because a Facebook friend brought it to my attention)

The real Irish American story

The history of the Irish Potato Famine

I haven't heard of the "lazy bed" method of planting potatoes before, but not only does it not sounds all that lazy (peeling up and turning sod over is a lot of work!), but it sounds efficient and clever.

I've heard people say that the potato famine was due not only to monoculture (I have no idea how they managed to plant only potatoes in the same soil for so long without running into major problems before this- even in home gardens, you're not supposed to replant in the same ground twice in a row) not only of a crop but of the variety, the Lumper potato. Details on this topic While I would agree wholeheartedly that monoculture is dangerous, particularly when we're talking about a single variety, and that biodiversity is crucial to food security and sustainability, I am unconvinced that planting even ten different varieties of potato would have prevented the famine. Other varieties may or may not have been susceptible to the blight, and even the ones that were not would not have been sufficient to prevent widespread catastrophe, considering the degree to which the people were being oppressed by the English. These people could have survived and done far better they they did, had they been allowed to eat the grains they were producing.

All in all, a pretty horrible story....and a lesson in why food production and security need to be both diverse and localized...
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Still reading on the topic. This was a fucking holocaust! Why do we not hear the full story about this in school? This was about so much more than a potato disease.

Things are getting better. I'm making friends and acquaintances. And even if it's only part time, I have a job.

I still feel broken. I still don't ever want to let anyone close to me again. I will always miss you.

But on the bright side, this probably is not going to happen to me again, because I cannot take the risk of this sort of thing reoccurring. So the worst is already over with.

Why does that sound so dead?

I hate anxiety. It makes me feel scared and vulnerable and in need of things that I cannot have, like reassurance and hugs. It sucks the courage and any self assurance right out of me, makes me long to feel safe when the only safety I have is that which I create for myself.
...............................................

To be fair, it also keeps me from doing all sorts of idiotic, embarrassing and generally unwise things. :-/

This is the yarn I've been talking about. The skein of gray yarn is the laceweight Shetland. The large skein of russet is wool/mohair blend. The small rich reddish brown-charcoal skein is the wool-silk blend that I just couldn't resist buying. I started on the kid mohair last night, but am going to re-spin it to get a finer yarn. I purposely spun it thicker and it is luscious, but I'm concerned about it shedding. Besides, this is the nicest mohair I've ever seen. I want it to go as far as possible!

I have nothing positive to say and am trying really hard not to make this site look like a litany of pity parties...because that would be pathetic...and I've humiliated myself enough already.

I feel really sad and hopeless and just depressed over the general trend of my life. Sometimes I wonder if they're right, if I don't deserve better than this.

A little bummed....I meant to do some color studies today in my sketchbook, exploring different palettes and color combinations. Particularly inspired by the work of Wolf Kahn and Mark Rothko, I took books of these artists out from the library...and forgot to bring them with me. This was dispiriting, but since nature has other examples to work from, I thought that this could still be done. Until I turned to pick up my (new! just waiting to be christened!) sketchbook and it was not there beside me as I thought it was. Apparently I left that behind, too. Sigh. I do have colored, acid free cardstock, colored pencils, and nice sketching pens and pencils, but at this point my enthusiasm has been a bit deflated. :-/
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Was wrong. Found the sketchbook. :-)

Watched half of a movie, Boys Don't Cry for an paper that I have to write for the abnormal psychology class. There were a number of movies on the list and I just picked this one at random because I'd already seen several of the other more popular movies and like to stretch my horizons when possible. I sort of lucked out with this movie but there is a rape scene and I got triggered. I'm still shaken....had to stop and save the rest of the movie for another time.

I hate the cruelty of the world we live in, that we're surrounded by people who have that kind of potential. It makes life seem so unpredictable, uncertain and unsafe.

All my life I've been taught that brutality is not only excusable, it's normal. That if I had a problem with that, my expectations were unreasonable and unrealistic. Still I always knew and hoped that it was possible for things to be different, that there must be men who were gentle not because they had to be to get what they wanted, nor as a pretense, but because gentleness was an integral part of their being. They told me I was wrong, that I didn't want "a real man", that what I was asking for was a woman. I told them that real men don't have to be cruel to assert their masculinity...but inwardly, there were so many times when I wondered if they were right. Because of you, I know they're wrong. Because of you, I will never again settle for or tolerate a man for whom kindness is only a veneer.

Warping the little homemade inkle loom with the Blue Faced Leicester yarn to make a scarf.

The neuro-psych eval is now finished.

I do have a math learning disability, which is such a relief to know for sure. It isn't that I'm stupid or that I wasn't trying hard enough or due to a simple lack of interest (people have suggested all these things in relation to my lack of success with math). I am probably not going to be able to go to medical school (not a big surprise at this point).

On the other hand, I got all of my points back plus a few on the IQ test. :-) It is nice to have a self esteem/ego boost at a time like this.

And she is officially diagnosing me with ADHD (I would suspect the inattentive type, but not sure?) along with reaffirming the Asperger's dx. Again, it is nice to know that the attention issues were not due to laziness or any number of other character flaws, as people have repeatedly, persistently pounded into me (sometimes in a literal sense) over the years.

Also she recommends a therapy dog. I have reluctantly decided to rehome the dog that I have (Bebe) with my neighbor, because she is constantly running off to be with that neighbor. While I love her, the bond between us has never been quite what I would have liked for it to be. She and my neighbor adore one another and I'm tired of fighting that.

So...I'll be looking for a dog that's a better match. I've had a lot of Border Collie-Australian Shepherd crosses and have never had one that I was unhappy with. Except for one purebred Border Collie female and Bebe, my dogs have always been male, so probably the dog will be male. Newfoundlands are another breed whose personality (calm, gentle, loyal, quiet) also appeals to me. I really like German Shepherds when they have been correctly bred and raised for a well balanced personality...so possibly some German Shepherd blood would be OK in a cross, probably not a purebred though. The Aussie/Border Collie cross would still be my first choice if I can find one though.

There are other details from the whole neuro-psych eval thing....don't feel like going into it all right now though, particularly online and in public.

There is only year old (and older) work on my Fine Art America page. Clearly, that needs to be updated...and I should start working on more stuff.

Back from helping with shearing. Actually, I mostly helped feed animals and skirt fleeces this time....and helped with gates. Think I am falling in love with alpacas...even though one spit at me. They make this endearing noise, like a sort of sad hummy whining sound. In exchange for helping (I guess- I don't think I really helped very much) she (the lady I was helping) gave me an alpaca fleece. I picked one that's a nice milk chocolate brown color; not only is this fleece a really nice color, it's also very soft, softer than many of the other fleeces. She said that it is too soft for her taste, because it doesn't card well in the machines she has. I hand card, so this isn't an issue for me and I love the extra softness.

It isn't that the other animals aren't nice to be around....the angora goats, the sheep, the dogs, cats, llama, etc....but there's something about those alpacas.

I have enough wool to keep me busy for months now. :-)

I get to go help shear sheep again today! Looking forward especially to the inquisitive, sensitive faces of the alpacas. They aren't playful like goats, but they're very appealing in their own way.

Just watched And The Band Played On. I've read the book more than once (think I have it actually), but this is one case where the movie is better than the book, if only because it puts human faces on what otherwise would only be statistics or at best, names.

As far as I know, I've never personally known anyone who died of AIDS. And although I'm attracted to women, have been since I was a child, it's equally true that I could be perfectly happy with a man for the rest of my life, too. I could live in the closet and nobody would know, just as they seem to have been unaware all along anyway. So when people want to know why this sort of thing matters to me, it's hard for me to put it into words. Maybe it's because I know the horror of not belonging, of being shunned, disliked for being different. Of finding a word for that difference and being simultaneously relieved and overwhelmed by the implications of this definition....struggling to accept this, only to find that other people don't want to know, don't want to acknowledge that difference, don't want to admit that there's a real reason for why you're different. No, they only demand silence and self loathing. Life in the closet isn't only for gay people. When you have a "hidden" disability, society virtually demands that the closet is the only acceptable place for you; otherwise you're just a needy drama queen demanding attention and acceptance.

But I hate it and won't stand for it. I've lost dear friends over a label, lost custody of my children over a label, jobs, a job promotion. I know what it's like to be marginalized based on a single word. I always say that if people are going to drop me because of a diagnosis, they were only fairweather friends to begin with....but it hurts, and to be honest, the more it hurts, the less compromising I become about it.

Most of all though, love is hard to find and nobody should be shamed for who they love. Nobody has the authority or the right to tell anyone else who they can or cannot love or to try to force them into silence.

Wool skirtings: are the part of the fleece that is usually thrown away, including all of the belly wool, and the wool from the face, head, lower legs and britch (crotch) area. This wool is either too short, uneven in quality or too dirty to be used as easily or in the same ways as the rest of the fleece.

It was headed to a landfill, so I salvaged it. and am now trying to think of uses for it. Bird nesting material. Mulch. Organic, biodegradable landscape fabric. Or felt. Hmmm.

Laughing in spite of the ache in my heart....because Lee Ryan is almost as hot as you are. Too bad he's such a pig.

Edited to add: Watched it again; you have a better jawline, a more distinguished nose, bluer eyes, paler, more refined. His smile doesn't crease all down the side of his face from his eyes like yours does. Still...

It doesn't matter what I do. Nobody else is going to be able to fill your place. :-(

Managed to spin and ply all of the violet merino silk blend on the wheel, then started in on the toasty beige wool/mohair blend. This is much nicer to work with, although it does have some vegetative matter that has to be picked out from time to time.

Finished plying the Shetland and now the wheel is empty. I started some of the merino silk blend, lovely violet color...but it breaks repeatedly. Even after adjusting the tension on the wheel multiple times, it is still breaking. I spun this blend on the drop spindle before....and I think I am going to go back to that. Handspinning should not be an exercise in frustration.

Thinking some more about the sheep shearing idea. How many years of really hard physical labor does my body have left in it? Twenty at best? After that I'll be wanting to slow down at least. Then what?

I'm scared....I've been working on my Associate's degree for about 4 years now. That's pathetic. If it weren't for the math class (that I've taken 6 times now), I'd be done and working on something else, but apparently knowing how to work with exponential and logarithmic functions is just essential in order to get a degree in just about any field. (sarcasm)

Speaking of such things....I went to the last segment of my neuro-psych eval yesterday, during which I was tested for learning disabilities. One of the questions: "How many different ways can you arrange four books on a shelf?" What kind of question is that????? Aside from the obvious (changing the sequence of books as they stand upright, side by side, on the shelf until you've exhausted unique options there) and the next most obvious (doing the same thing only now stacking them flat on the shelf and rearranging the sequence), you can then start separating them- two books on one side of the shelf, two on the other. Two vertical, two stacked. Three stacked, on vertical. All four vertical, not touching. etc, ad nauseum. I have no idea what the answer was, but obviously, I got it wrong. How could anyone know such a thing without trying it out for a few hours and keeping track of the results?

Then there was a section where I was given a story or picture and asked to deduce something that was not referred to directly, for example, what will Harry do next in a given scenario. I was completely lost on this. How am I supposed to know what Harry will do next? The answers were not obvious, either, as far as I could tell. Terrible.

The consolation is that I probably did well on things relating to vocabulary, etc.

I am still thinking about the headaches that no longer plague me. They were so bad. I used to always carry some analgesic along just in case I got a headache...and even then, timing was everything. Catch it too late and forget it...all the Tylenol in the world wouldn't help. Even hydrocodone wouldn't help at that point. Nothing would. My childhood memories of family outings include a migraine at virtually every get together...during school...so many headahces. An entire pregnancy of headaches.

And now they're just gone. Correlation doesn't equal causation, but it is still tempting to wonder whether going gluten free had anything to do with this. I've never been so headache-free in my life.

Then I think about how scientists think that autism has something to do with brain inflammation or vice versa. I don't know. It could be. Migraines are not said to be due to brain inflammation as far as I know. Tyramine is known to be a trigger for migraines, but wheat doesn't have high levels of tyramine and I am still eating lots of other foods that do. Odd.

Seriously considering taking the sheep shearing class and spending part of the summer shearing as many sheep as I can find.
Because:

• I've always wanted to do this kind of work, since the summer I helped out with lamb docking on a large sheep ranch in Wyoming (the lambs from 2,000 ewes- no idea how many lambs there were). It was very hard work...and I felt so fulfilled doing it.
  
• If and when I get fiber animals of my own, I will want/need to shear them.
  
• I need to be around animals and cannot have my own. Shearing sheep that belong to others will still give me that animal fix and it will pay, bringing me closer to the goal of having a place where animals would be a possibility.
  
• There would be constant access to all kinds of fiber, from all kinds of sheep. This beats having to pay for it outright or worse, having to feed and house all sorts of different sheep.
  
• It will keep me busy and my mind occupied, as opposed to dishwashing, which keeps me busy but still leaves my mind free to fret and stress. I do not think I am going to be able to handle another year of stressing and worrying and feeling worthless. The best antidote to feeling worthless is to go out and do something worthwhile and succeed at it.
  
• Opportunity to get a lot of exposure and experience with many breeds of sheep.
  
• This line of work would align nicely with some of my long term goals.
  
• If I'm going to be alone, this is what I'd like to do with my life. If not...guess I'll cross that unlikely bridge when it comes up.
  
• Also, my body is so out of shape and weak that it's embarrassing. I'm turning into a weakling. Being physically fit is important to me...and work is a good, profitable way to get there.
  

I'm sitting in the kitchen, plying the last of the Shetland, watching the singles twist into 2-ply so quickly that the yarn is a blur unless I stop the wheel....when I smell you. I stop. The scent is unmistakeably you: clean, refined, velvety, masculine in a restrained way. And I miss you so much...it's so strange that my mind could conjure up such a vivid scent memory out of the blue like that. It's as though you're walking through the room again, or as though you were just here minutes ago. It's like a few seconds of heaven, of the crazymaking stopping for a minute....like this nightmare is over. I don't know if it ever will be. I can only hope that eventually, things will be at least a little more sane....and to hold the thought of you in the light.

I guess that in the end, I don't care what sort of head trips they play with me. All I really care about is that you're OK.

A blog post by John Shore that brings me uncomfortably close to tears in a public place: The Child We Left Behind. Very worthwhile reading, not something I can really cope with in the library. :-/

Both bobbins of Shetland singles are done and I started on plying them...but then the laptop called me over to the laundry room...at any rate, it should be done tomorrow and then I can start on something else. Well...I should get to bed if I intend to make scones tomorrow morning. :-P

Man, I love that song. How can a song with such sad words make me so happy?? Really- if I were to buy songs to put on an MP3 player, that'd be the first song I'd get. I like it so well that I took out a CD from the library that supposedly is by Blue...but there must be some mistake. I do not think it is the same group, totally different sound. The youtube comments called this song a hip hop version...I hadn't thought of that. Guess there's a little of the city left in me after all. ;-) It is just about impossible to sit still while listening to it!!

I finally found (again) the version of this song that I like best. :-) Love it!

Because of you I will never again settle for less than something I can throw my whole heart into.

The shearing class is affordable! Yay! Except for the cost of lodging...I could conceivably sleep in a vehicle while there (brrr). And who would watch my son? Maybe it coincides with spring break....yes! It does!!! Now...to make it happen. hmmm.

I was laying awake last night, feeling gratitude for the simplicity and freedom of being single. I don't deny that there are times when I feel as if I might die or implode into an empty, aching husk of a person if I don't get a hug....but so many other aspects of life are so much simpler and less complicated this way. The trade off just isn't worth it except under the most unlikely circumstances.

So...I need to find a way to make animals a part of my life again.

Another thing I realized while laying awake: I want and need a mom. Not my birth mother, a mom. :-/

Got my animal fix. :-) The alpacas are becoming more appealing to me all the time....I love the hummy/whiny sounds they make and the expressiveness of their faces. And sheep....are still fairly interesting. Maybe not as much as the angora goats and alpacas, but not as complicated, either.

Almost done filling the second bobbin of Shetland laceweight singles. Then I can ply the two bobbins and hopefully still have a reasonably thin yarn. After that....goodness, how on earth will I decide what to spin next? I got about half of a fleece from a dark CVM/Romney cross lamb today and a some lovely long lustrous white longwool (a crossbred mix of three different longwool breeds) and a little bit of some beautifully colored and shaded Wensleydale.

Am thinking about doing some more dyeing...I have onion skins (the store would not let me buy these and had to call a manager to find out what to do!!! They finally decided that it was ok to just give them to me). This would make a golden yellow color. Yellow is not one of my favorite colors...except when it's paired with blue or violet. This blog has a showing of the array of colors which can be obtained from onion skins. The quiet green color (from red onion skins on alum mordanted wool) has some appeal, too.

I like bright colors...particularly in the blue/violet/magenta range...and for painting I can't imagine using only quiet colors. For wool though...the natural vegetable dyes seem to harmonize with the softness and texture of the wool better than the more exuberant hues. Mohair is an entirely different story. Shiny, lustrous mohair looks great when it's been dyed in intense colors. I don't know about alpaca yet.

If I want to learn how to shear, the class I would need to take lasts for a week, not terribly far from here...and the only way to get truly proficient at it is to practice by shearing a LOT of sheep.

Tomorrow: I get to help shear sheep and angora goats!

As if anyone cares. As if you care.

How can people have any faith in feelings if their feelings are so changeable and temporary, so easily switched off? How on earth can their state of mind or heart matter at all under those conditions?

The other thing anyone who knows me knows: that I am fragile. That I've been really upset over this mess for the past year. That if there is one weapon which can reliably be used to devastate me with very little effort, it's him.

So not only was it dishonest and unethical, it was fucking dangerous and cruel.

I am a bit embarrassed that it took me a week to figure this out: of course I am not dangerous or any kind of a threat to his safety. Anyone who knows me at all knows that I am harmless. I can honestly say that the thought of doing anything to hurt him has never entered my mind even for a second.

And she knows this, of course.

But: the only legal loophole for breaking confidentiality is if a person is a danger to themselves or others. I was not suicidal, so it couldn't be me. Therefore, she manufactured a specious threat to him. Talk about unethical.

I have been all broken up for the past week because she concocted a ridiculous, slanderous "danger" in a sorry attempt to excuse and cover up her own misdeeds. Wow. I am speechless. And insulted: did she really think I was so incredibly stupid that I wouldn't figure this out? It's a bit humiliating that it took me a week, but when one is distraught and broken hearted, one's mind has a way of going sort of numb and inactive.

I want the lies to stop.

Just noticed: I haven't had any typical headaches since going gluten free. By typical, I mean those that are not induced by being so stressed that the muscles in my neck and at the base of my skull cramp up and those which are not caused by sinus congestion via crying. In other words, by "typical headache", I am talking about the garden variety headache, the kind I used to have all the time, the kind I used to hoard any leftover hydrocodone pills for, because tylenol usually does nothing.

I've had these headaches all my life. They have tormented me for years. They were severe enough and frequent enough that they occupy a prominent place in my memories of childhood. I've always disliked the color orange because that's the color the pain was- an orange that just would not go away for hours on end. And now they're gone.

This is such a relief; it's well worth never eating bread again.

A realization: if I make art baskets, I can integrate nearly all of the various components of my varied interests: fiber, plants, nature, fabric, bones, shells, pottery, recycled material, animals (their fiber, bones, horns, etc)...I could incorporate texture, color, scent...the list probably goes on. I could probably even use seaweed and or kelp. :-)

Which isn't to say that I intend to quit making fish!

Because I am aspie, one might expect that I would hyper focus in my work and narrow it down to one subject, done one way, in one medium, etc. I have done this at times. However, this sort of specializing is generally countered by a drive to explore and diversify. My appetite for the sensory pleasures around me can be somewhat voracious. Not as in food or drugs or such...it's more like...huh. Maybe it's some kind of a compensation or reaction from living in my head and thinking so much. The other side of that coin seems to be this sort of wild hunger for earthy things, for intensity of color or different color combinations, for things that smell good or interesting, for sensual textures and for the solidity and energy of the earth. It seems to sort of scare people a little bit to see a grown woman so intensely into things. I don't know. It's like getting high on the ordinary things all around me. It's not obsession, because once I've finally run myself down, I can let it fade gently away and just sort of bask in the afterglow.

Um. That sort of sounds like I was talking about sex. It isn't a bad analogy because actually, that's sort of what it's like. It's as if my brain has this wild orgy on all the sensory things in the woods or arboretum or wherever and then when I've finally had enough, I just feel so calm and relaxed and happy.

Hey, I never claimed to be normal. :-P

My son signed up for hunters ed (I'm not exactly thrilled about this) and I didn't realize this until after I had taken off to town without putting any kind of handwork or project in the vehicle. He is going to be in that class until 9 PM and I have nothing! I don't think there is even a sketchbook, although the smallest one may be there. This is terrible. I can't tell you how tempting it is to run over to Ben Franklin's or worse, one of the shop that carry wool and drop spindles, and buy something to do with my hands. But, I can tell you assuredly that it will not happen again. My friend loaned me two pscyh type books; otherwise I wouldn't have had anything to read, either. Wait, no: in the laptop case there is this bio of a nurse who goes into helping terminal patients after losing her brother in childhood...but frankly that seemed kind of depressing.

Thank goodness for the gym.

Hey, I survived last week and the weekend! February is almost done. :-)

I've found someone who may be willing to rent kiln space to me at a more reasonable rate than the Arts Alliance. The next problem, should I do this, becomes one of glazes- specifically, either buying some or getting the chemicals to make them. It will behoove me to use glazes that are both dependable and interesting enough/variable enough that I can use the limited array without being boring.

Iron red and iron oxide are cheap...because iron oxide is just rust so I can get a lot of it for very little. Iron red is also dependable.

I'll need a white.

There should be a cobalt derived blue. Cobalt carbonate is expensive.

A shino glaze is another standard that I should have. No idea what is in these.

It would be good to have a fairly transparent, glassy green similar to the one I used as a student at the college.

Maybe a brown, or a glaze like the seacrest purple we used at college that was so dependably good and interesting.
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And then....I can make more fish. I found a gallery that is looking for another potter. If I can start turning out the work and afford the monthly fee (it is a co-op so they take no commission)...I could have work in a gallery in time for the tourist market.

Random stuff:

• I am currently watching a documentary (Rivers and Tides) about Andy Goldsworthy. I love the purity of his art, both the medium and that he does his art not for a gallery or to sell, but because he needs to. That his work is free of commercial concerns makes it purer to me. Maybe this isn't accurate...maybe he does get paid somehow, I don't know.
  
  
• I did something terribly sinful and foolish today and bought a few ounces of a 50/50 silk merino blend roving....and some wool mohair blend as well, which was much cheaper than the silk blend. I should not have bought the silk...but I wanted it with a sort of intensity that was almost....(shiver)
  
  
• The colors used in the silk/merino blend are inspiring to me though...and I can achieve them with the stuff I have at home. It's a warm russety brown, the color my hair used to be in the sun when it was long, or when I was a child, blending into a rich charcoal, shimmering throughout with strands of silk. It is beautiful, beautiful. The mohair/wool (mohair comes from angora goats by the way) roving is a lighter shade of the reddish brown, the color of cinnamon sugared toast when it's just right.
  
  
• I want to hike up to Beehive Lakes this summer (the stone cairns Andy Goldsworthy is building on the movie are reminding me of this) and camp overnight there this time. Last time I just went up, saw, and came back down...no time to even enjoy it really.
  
  
• People are giving alpacas and angora goats away...and I can't have any because I have no place to keep them. I know that I am a selfish thing to think of acquiring animals when I have children to think of and need to find a place to live yet. Sigh...I need animals though....dogs are alright, but they don't have the same calming energy that larger, ruminating animals do.
  
  
• But at least I live in a beautiful place, with forests and trees and streams, mosses and lichens and woodland plants and moist rich smelling soil in some places and aromatic woody pine needle carpets in the higher, dry areas. I don't think I could feel sane at all, like myself at all, without the outdoors and without animals.
  
  
• I wish that I could have the sea as well...(another selfish thing)...perhaps someday, but not soon, I don't think. I love the way the moist sea air smells, the mist and the fog....it is even better than rain.
  
  
• And...I am thinking about the work I'm doing with my therapist. I don't know what the future holds for me. Sometimes I feel a glimpse of it, but really, there is no way to know. I can only hope that it will be better than the past has been and strive towards that goal. But I don't know. I hope that someday I will be partnered....but if it isn't someone that I can love from the depths of my soul, then I would rather be alone. It is much, much better to be alone than to be in a relationship which lacks sincerity.
  
  
• I do know that if I should ever find myself in someone's arms again, I want to be there, to really be there, in the moment, not floating away, not disappearing with my mind to another place. I've spent all my life locked away, protected within myself...imprisoned. I want to be free. Whether or not it's fair is inconsequential, but in order to be present, to stay present, I will need to do the necessary work.
  
  
• When I spend so much time living inside my head, a head full of years of negative programming and trauma and pain, is it any wonder if I'm depressed? Maybe when I get free of that I'll feel better in a more general sense as well.
  

This...(laughing)...is the funniest thing I've encountered in weeks! lmao.... I especially love the ending!

I don't want to do anything that hurts or negatively affects you. :-( I have to figure out what exactly I am doing and then do everything in my power to change that.
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I don't know if you read this, but what if you did? I write really awful, depressing shit here, and while it's cathartic in a way....in someone else's shoes, reading it? Oh god. I can write that sort of stuff in my sketchbooks. And the thing is that I am not actually this blue 24/7, it's just sort of turned into my venting place. :-/

I feel like someone has torn a big gaping hole in my soul. It's the ache that never goes away.

I don't know how to tell her that ten years from now, I will still love you. Oh, I know how, but first of all it would be an incredibly bad idea and secondly she doesn't believe that what I feel is real. Still, this is true. And it will not be an obsession, because I am not obsessed. The thought of you is like the string that holds the beads of my thoughts, of my life, together. Like the beacon of a lighthouse when I am tossed mercilessly on an endlessly storming sea. You may be my favorite color, a color I cannot imagine a world without, but you are not the only color, the only light, or the only thing my necklace is made of.

I would never, never hurt you, never. How can she think that I would ever present a danger to you? That cuts me to the bone.

Have you ever seen one of those movies where there's a kid, usually a boy, with some animal that he's befriended? Sometimes it's a wild animal, other times it's a stray dog...usually he either doesn't have his parents permission or the animal turns out to be more trouble than the parents expected it to be. Either way, they tell him that the animal has got to go. But...the animal doesn't want to go, because it's bonded to the boy. Finally the kid has to pretend that he's really mad at the animal- he might chase it, yell, throw rocks. Sometimes the boy cries while he's screaming at the dog to get lost, that he hates it, that he never wants to see it again. The animal goes off reluctantly, usually not all at once. Or maybe it hangs back, hiding in the brush, far enough away but...not too far. It depends on the movie.

Sometimes I feel like that animal.

This was an unbelievably stressful day and I am so glad it's over. I don't even want to talk about it.

But the sky was so pretty...it was just exactly the right color.

Tell me why, please...why do I have to feel so ashamed about this? Perhaps I am simple minded, but I cannot understand why everyone doesn't love you to pieces. It just seems obvious to me that you're an inherently lovable person, so of course I like you.

Spinning wool on a wheel is very relaxing and centering...makes the worries just fly away. :-)

I've started spinning some of the Shetland fleece that I washed. I am spinning it quite fine, but not laceweight fine, I don't think. The mohair has spoiled me and I have now decided that if I make some sort of masterpiece, the kid mohair is going to be in it!

Meanwhile, the Shetland fleece is turning out a pleasant white/gray. Not sure if this yarn will be dyed or not later on.

Sigh. I have to try to be nice to myself this week, because there really isn't anyone else who can do that for me. Partly this is because I won't let anyone near, not really, so while I complain so bitterly of feeling so alone, isn't it a condition of my own making? I continue to choose it, though....because I know: when you let people in close enough, when you let them become irreplaceable, they're also close enough to really hurt you, and when you lose them, the loss is bottomless.

It's not the answer anyone wants to hear, but I don't know that I'll ever stop missing you. Because despite all the armor, all the defenses, somehow I am terribly, frighteningly vulnerable to you, to an unprecedented degree. And I don't really have the words for what that's meant.

I won't lie. I'm dreading this week. I'm afraid of it. So please, folks, be nice to me or just leave me alone. Save the little talks, the little condescensions, the kindly insults, the control trips, for next week. This week teems with ghosts and flashbacks of times so bad and so good that they seem more like hallucinations than memories.

There is nothing so urgent that it cannot wait until next Monday.

And....I was taking the first test for my class last night, was almost finished with it, when the internet connection went down. I tried and tried and tried to reconnect, to resend, to no avail. There are no retakes. I am just sick over this. I should never have enrolled in college while living where I do as it has been nearly impossible to pass a class due to transportation and internet difficulties. It is not free to live here; it is really fucking expensive when you fail one class after another for very petty reasons and when the alternative is to get internet in town at coffee shops (or the library when it's open).

Edited to add: apparently it saved some of the answers, not all of them, and submitted them. I got a D. I feel like crying. :-( To make matters worse, the "correct" answers to some of the questions are not, in fact, correct. For example, the ancient Greeks may have prescribed marriage as a cure for hysteria, but this was because pregnancy was supposed to lubricate and calm the uterus; therefore the Greek cure for hysteria was pregnancy, not marriage. :-/

Found a nice old livestock/animal husbandry textbook at the thrift store today. 80% of it is about cattle and swine, almost none of it is about goats. It does have a lot of useful information though. I want to know why so many animal diseases are caused and solved through feed and simple management and often the very same disease in humans often does not seem to share the same cause and solution.

For example, in dairy goats, urinary calculi are caused by too much calcium in the feed of a male animal. You generally do not feed a buck or wether goat alfalfa, or if you do, only in small quantities, because they will very likely get urinary calculi and that is more or less a death sentence. To reduce the risk of UC, goat owners feed their male animals ammonium chloride in their feed. Sometimes you can save an animal with ammonium chloride if you catch it quickly enough and are lucky. All of this is standard, common knowledge among goat breeders. Yet men are not warned against excessive calcium intake as adults and as far as I can tell, (too lazy to google for it, but I have done so before) there has not been much interest in feeding ammonium chloride to men who are at risk of getting UC, despite the level of pain and trauma involved. :-/

Yeah, yeah...I know. Medicine does not always translate across species (which is why we test stuff on rodents, and abnormal, albino rodents at that?!). It's just that at least 75% of what afflicts the health of livestock is related to their diet or management and the rest is genetics, trauma, freak occurrences, etc. I also recognize that livestock breeders practice selective breeding and culling, etc, and that humans do not, because that would be morally wrong. We practice these voluntarily on a different, much milder level, but still, the differences cannot be wholly due to genetics.

I have all the respect in the world for modern medicine...after all, this is the girl who wanted to be a doctor sooooo badly for so many years. I guess what I am saying is that I wonder sometimes whether a similar proportion of human illness is due to diet and poor management (lifestyle, upbringing, living conditions, in other words, environmental factors that could be changed). How strange that we know how to optimize the health of the animals we raise for our own food but that we do not manage our own health with the very same principles!

I am beginning to have my doubts about Wendell Berry. I still admire him, but he and I have some definite differences. :-/ A wife as a substitute for a computer?? Seriously?