the weirdest thing about this blog

It's amusing to me that the page that gets the most hits is the recipe for "Fall Stuffed Mushrooms."

People look at it and go away (yes, I have a little tracker installed, but please don't think I'm spying - I'm just curious to know things like the fact that in the past month a good 10 or 12 people have arrived at that page after a google search for that phrase, but only 6 or 7 have looked at other things).

Odd, that it's so popular. I haven't managed to inspire any comments on the recipe, which makes me feel... well, unsuccessful. I wonder if anyone else has tried it. More likely they don't have the ingredients that I had and they're looking for something that matches their pantries...

go figure.

roped in

The move is coming along, but I'm a little tired of its all-consuming aspect. This kind of thing really riles up that monster that I have a hard time quelling - the one that says, "everything else has to be done before you can selfishly go off and play."

Maybe the nice thing is that when I'm done cleaning up the old house, the new house will have been simultaneously (yes, I can be in two places at once, apparently) be done. So far the girls' rooms are pretty set, minus a shelf or two, the living room is done, kitchen is nearly done, and my room is the least completed. I'm still using the phone and computer at the old house....

anyway, those are just nitpicky details. What I'm looking forward to is that moment when I can actually give myself permission to do something totally unrelated to the move or housework or anything like that. Hopefully soon.

a world where mermaids sing

I just read May Sarton's 1965 novel, Mrs. Stevens hears the mermaids singing, which is an idiosyncratic but engaging story. I was drawn through it by a sense of familiarity, catching myself in realization that the narrator's thought processes and ways of gaining perspective were much like my own. That a story-line unfolded along with the inner workings of the main character's mind was somewhat of a surprise. Stream of consciousness often comes across as meandering and plotless, but letting readers into Mrs. Stevens thoughts turned out to not just give us character blathering along (not totally anyway), but was obviously a carefully constructed tool by which readers are able to follow Mrs. Stevens reflections on her life as she prepares for and gives an interview after publishing a recently well-received volume of poetry.

Sarton relies very heavily on notions which she simultaneously challenges, and because they've been challenged by her and writers after her, those ideas seem particularly outdated. Due, in large part to resistance by people who were being studied, essentialization has fallen out of favor in recent years as sociologists and anthropologists have tried to come to terms with an academic heritage that tended to make sweepingly general but bindingly close-minded assumptions about groups of people. Sarton approaches the conflicts encountered by Mrs. Stevens by trying to dig to the "essential" natures of maleness and femaleness as they relate to creativity, sexuality, and social expectation. Coming at this from a sort of "post-modern" conceptual paradigm in which I recognize that identities are fluid, I was also aware that this book was really a response to the culture of the time. Being able to read this with an awareness of what the author was attempting to do while recognizing how many of our ideas have changed, allowed me to get beyond some of the work's limitations.

The lengthy forays into Stevens' musings has been described as self-indulgent. I would agree except for the fact that Sarton's skill at turning the self-indulgent toward the aim of the book makes it seem that she's done nothing at all but let her main character ramble. Truth is, for as long as I've been keeping a journal and trying to catch hold of my own slippery-fish of a mind (wish me luck with that one!), I can recognize the authenticity of the character Mrs. Stevens and respect Sarton's ability to know herself and her character well enough to be able to pull the whole story together out of the vagaries of her character's mind.

There were moments when the story or the writing seemed forced, though, which caused me to wonder about the author's shortcomings (when I would rather have been fully immersed in the story). Considering that this book's progressive handling of sexuality (Mrs. Stevens has both men and women lovers and this is openly addressed) is celebrated by many, I found that the relationships were clunky - either they seemed unrealistic or too dramatic and they just didn't contribute to an otherwise believable character.

Throughout, though, I kept jotting down sections that spoke to me. There is much that creative people have in common, and the experience of many women artists is similar. Likewise, I was heartened by the fact that I found a story in which I not only came to know the characters, but I came to know myself - for Mrs. Stevens touches on some very essential truths, regardless of whether or not it's taboo to speak in such generalizations. In this regard, I reject that academic doubt. We do have things in common with each other, in spite of our many ways of being in and experiencing the world.

So, all in all, this is not an action-filled book - it's about a person's reflecting on her life. I enjoyed its slow pace and the validation I received of my own experience in trying to lead a creative, visioning life. This leads me to consider this in two sections, then. This first section, The Book, is more or less a review of what Sarton accomplished with the book, what its consistency as a work of fiction is, while the next, The Subject, deals with the issues Sarton was addressing.

more moving

I figured it out today - this is the fifth move I've done on my own. All the sorting and deciding and packing and most of the lugging. The putting into storage or taking out of storage, the unpacking, organizing, setting up. Meanwhile the cooking, cleaning, mothering. Dantseng certainly feels bad for not being here, but it doesn't change the fact that he's not here.

This time I'm moving 5 people's stuff in three directions. Kids', Dantseng's, Mine - all being extricated from my dad's and going to the new house (or the thrift store). Dad's stuff - he's being given lots of time to go through his things (something he hates) and then I carry the things he's taking to his RV out to his car, or stack the things he wants to store in a pile in the garage, or send what he doesn't want to the thrift store.

And in spite of doing it all, I still make myself feel bad for not writing, for not wanting to write, for not liking the bird story right now, for abusing my muse and not giving him anything to play with. I'll work on that.

lessons learned from house-hunting, 2

The other thing that was made obvious is just how our society encultures the homing experience. I'm not sure that makes the sense I want it to. Let my try again: Having a home (being able to afford one, finding it, creating it, personalizing it) is something that is wrapped in layers of cultural meaning. The meaning can be found in what the physical structure says, in its own language.

By this I mean that what our homes look like reveals what we value - but in a way that is primary to deciding if you're going to have Nascar posters in your bedroom or a seashell motif in the bathroom. I'm talking about the actual house, the physical structure and the form it takes.

Those of us in this culture who aren't given the value expressed by increased amounts of money settle for a certain type of home while those whose existence is valued (and I'm purposefully using this term broadly, aware of its different meanings), have completely different home-making options.

I looked at eight different houses, ranging from ranch style to duplexes to townhouses and they all had something in common besides the illusion of more space created by the lack of furniture.

They were all dead. By dead, I mean a certain quality that's intuitively noticed. There's no flow of "energy" or qi (so it's not literal in the sense that the grass is dead). A good place to get a sense of what creates living space vs. dead space is Christopher Alexander's The Timeless Way of Building (and A Pattern Language).

As a renter, looking at the options available to someone who can't buy or build a house, there seemed to be a certain class divide among structures. Sure, it's not a secret, all across America there's the "good" side of town and the "bad." There's the luxury home and the economy home. And maybe that's all this was - I was looking in the "bad" price range. But I started to suspect that it wasn't that if I just raised my price high enough, I'd find that magic realm where all the rentals were beautiful. I actually don't think it's possible because they don't build houses that way. It takes a big leap in resources to get there. Either you have to be able to afford a custom home or you have to have a piece of land (and some leniency with the building codes) to be able to build your own.

But going from house to house I found that what they had in common was that they assumed something about the potential tenant - that we deserve impersonal, un-living, bare-bones, utilitarian space.


Take a look at the photos. If home is where your heart is, how do these make your heart feel?

A friend said, "Well, they make them that way because of how renters treat them." I conceded a bit, but I also have read the research that comes out of the landscape architecture tradition that shows that people treat public spaces differently depending upon how personal or impersonal that space is. Institutional, modernized, impassive places breed one type of reaction (more graffiti, vandalism and neglect), while space that are sized on a human scale and create a sense of well being and beauty are treated better.

I just did a quick search of images from cob houses. I had the chance to help build a cob house and am kind of partial to the method and look. Compare them to the photos above and see how they make you feel.

lessons learned from house-hunting

In the last week I looked at eight different rental houses.

There's something I realized in this process and that's that for the first time in a long time, this is somewhat of a renters' market, which seems counter to what ought to be. It's likely that this is very site specific - I'm sure there are a lot of places where this isn't the case because waves of foreclosures are taking houses out of the market and the people who've had to move out of those houses (either as renters or former owners) are then competing for a limited supply of available rental units; but this town is relatively unscathed so far. Few houses are in foreclosure, and though I'd assume some owners are upside-down if they bought at the height of the market, they're not as bad off as property owners in other parts of the state because the home values have not declined all that much over the last year or two. This is because this town never really expanded in the construction-era, and housing has been in high demand with the constant supply of college-related renters. So, most of the units that exist in this town are actually available.

What's made this (even if only briefly) a renters' market, though, is a combination of factors: 1) The student rush is over. School started in late September and everyone who needed a place to live found it before school started. If the homeowner missed out, there's a very small pool of renters who are choosing among a larger pool of houses 2) everyone's budgets are tighter and more students seem to be either sharing housing or looking outside of town for lower rents than before (making for an even larger pool of houses). So, now that it's October means that some landlords have missed out on almost a whole month's rent - and they're lowering prices to try to get tenants interested.

My landlord is nuts to raise our rent. I'm finding houses with the same specs as the one we're in currently, for about $300-500 cheaper per month. I'm hoping to get one that's only slightly smaller, and it's a duplex, not a single-family-home and thus a bit of a "downgrade" - and it's $425 cheaper per month.

In some cases I found that houses and duplexes are being priced less than apartments with the same number of rooms. I think it's because the apartment complexes have a specific price schedule to which they have to adhere while the houses, being privately owned (not needing anyone's approval but the owner's decision) are slightly more flexible.

I don't know. It's all conjecture. Maybe though, just maybe, we're going to luck out a little bit this time though.

(more lessons learned coming up...)

gearing up for change

In the extremely unlikely possibility that someone actually reads this, it looks like I might return to some degree of unpredictability with posting. As I mentioned, the landlord wants to raise the rent and since my dad wants to move out anyway, we're going to take the chance to get out. The landlord is raising the rent (to $1950, aren't you glad you don't live in College Town, CA?) far above market value (I don't think he's been paying attention to what's going on - students have already moved in, everybody's budgets are tight, and house rental prices are dropping slightly here. I'm finding duplexes for less than some apartments.) Anyway, he's been kind of a jerk and I'm happy to get out. It's a bummer to have to move again so soon, but worth it to save money and not have to deal with him.

I'm assuming I'll be busy for a while, but I have every intention of posting when possible.

nothin' seems like gettin' better

Ought to be the title of a country song. Heck, for all I know, it is. That would be this week's kind of luck, that even my attempt to create a unique title falls flat.

Just having that kind of week, I guess. Where the kids argue all the time, the teenager acts like a teenager, creative ideas have flown away, the landlord wants to raise the rent, and I leave the sprinkler on accidentally and the new seedlings float off the raised bed and into the woodchips.

I've stalled for now on the bird story. I don't know if I want to go back to it, though I will give it a try. I haven't sat down to look at it, as I said I would (to myself, as I actually have no one to talk to), so I'm not sure if the problem lies in planning or topic. What I want? Something magical.

Instead I'm taking the quarter off from aikido. I know, it won't help my training any, but I don't feel resilient enough right now to weather Sensei's criticism in addition to the "steering" I'm getting to take iaido. Too much to handle. Likewise, my writing buddy has gotten busy with a girlfriend, so there's not much going on there. I am considering joining a writing group that meets at a cafe on Tuesdays, though - we'll see how that goes next week. In spite of the lessening of some commitments, though, things still seem busy - maybe because now I've finally helped Kestral get involved in some of the activities she's wanted for a while (ballet and clarinet). Plus, there's the day to day that takes up all day if it can. And it will. And that's a boring, boring topic.

I've been plugging away on a book review that I'll post here as soon as I'm done. It's been going in fits and starts - semi cerebral and somewhat flighty, we'll see if I can pull something coherent out of it.

What do I wish for? Beauty. Lately everything seems pragmatic and cluttered with busy-busi-ness and no fun or hearty-heart warmth. Just making sure the machine keeps pumping. Meanwhile the spiders, whom I can't bear to kill, just keep cobwebbing up the crystals hanging in the window and making nests in the corners.

How many complaints would you like to hear tonight? None? oh. phooey.

Because I'm kind of stuck in this non-poetic, can't come up with anything delightful or lovely to save my soul kind of rut.

To say it sucks would be adequate.

at it again

It was another one of those kind of days. Wow, must be something in the air on October 1st.

This time I've gathered elderberries that were drying on the plants themselves, rather than bringing them home to dry. Saves a step for me and I wouldn't be surprised if there's something really fabulous about sun/air dried elderberries vs. dehydrator dried.

The north wind picked up two days ago, and the days have been clear and cooler. I went back to my two favorite jujube trees (the two that don't seem to have been discovered by very many other jujube fans) and got lots of windfall fruit. Like the elderberries, a lot of these were well on their way to being dried. They look just great.

No apples or pomegranates this time - the pomegranates don't look ripe yet and I made so much applesauce in August that I'm over that for a while. Though apple butter does sound good...

another good read

I just finished reading a novella by Kelley Eskridge, called Dangerous Space, (which you can read online at that link) and I really liked it. It's the title piece for a new collection of her stories and I was interested to find out what genre her writing gets categorized with. I'm genre shopping, I guess. Granted, I've written so little that it's hard to categorize my interests at this point, but what I have written kind of straddles fantasy/magical realism, but there's a strong pull toward the mythical. Eskridge's novella doesn't exactly seem like it's clear cut either. Here's what she's said about it:

"These stories don’t really land squarely in any particular genre; maybe that’s part of the reason I’ve never noticed the relationships between them. I’m usually classified as a science fiction writer, but I think speculative or slipstream fiction are better terms for what I do. My work tends toward a tight focus on people who happen live in worlds different from the one I generally accept as ‘real’, although sometimes the difference is only a degree or two — an element of horror, a fantasy background, or a piece of technology that doesn’t currently exist"

She goes on,

I believe there’s no better playground than speculative fiction for a writer who wants to explore metaphors of human experience. It’s the place where we can make metaphor concrete: create alienation overtly, make literal the demons within that sometimes overwhelm us, assume it’s possible to truly ‘get inside’ someone else’s experience.

I’m endlessly curious about the internal landscape, about human feelings and behavior and relationship. We’ve all got dangerous space within us and between us. Exploring that space is a lot of what I’m about as a writer and a person.

I figure it's currently not critical that I know what genre I'm aiming for - at least not at the outset. If I get any enthusiastic about seeking publication then I'll look into it, but for now I just like being open to influences and ideas without worrying about boundaries. Like Eskridge, my writing makes me happiest when it explores inner and outer landscapes and how and why they affect each other. I recognize, though, that I am at an early stage - I simply haven't written enough to be able apply any labels. My interest in genres then is mostly so that I can identify authors I'd like to read.

if you wish to make an apple pie from scratch

Cosmos was one of those formative influences, along with Bill Moyers' interviews with Joseph Campbell (The Power of Myth). Some things never change - I'm still thrilled by cosmology and astronomy as well as mythology and folklore...

The video was created by John Boswell of Colorpulse.

that one, this one

This book project, the bird story, sure is a different creature from the one I wrote while we were living in China. I can think of all sorts of reasons.

*that one was NaNoWriMo generated, this one is not

*that one was written in a bubble in China, this one is being written while regular life demands my almost constant attention

* that one had fewer style and length limitations, this one has more - it's meant for a younger audience (7-10, or middle grade)

*that one had myth and dragons and plant magic and culture building, this one is solidly this-world (though my bird characters don't act like birds-as-we-know-them)

*that one had community because Owl and Kestral and I were all doing writing projects and we supported each other, this one is just me

*that one seemed like play, this one feels like work