Safety

Today I am checking out the ingredients in my skin care products to see how safe they are:
http://www.cosmeticdatabase.com/
where you can search ingredients as well as products.

In general, I would say that this is discouraging and infuriating. So far, fragrance and color dyes are showing up as the most toxic ingredients in my products. So I'm being poisoned by useless ingredients I don't even want. And finding something without them is remarkably difficult.

It's also frustrating to see toxic ingredients in products that market themselves as organic and environmental.

And then: why so many? Why does a simple facial cleanser need 20 different ingredients?

Look forward to future reports on what I find to actually clean and moisturize my skin.

Writing

Today, I began to write. I've been writing for a while, but today I began, in earnest, to write up my stories of my experiences in Russia. Yesterday I finally organized in a coherent way my emails and letters and notes from my time in Russia, and I realized it is time. I miss Russia. I want to write about it. Even though there are other things I want to do, it is time to write. So here I go.

Drum jam

I went last night to a drum jam at my drumming teacher's place. He invited all his students, current and former, to come and play. We drummed for almost 3 hours. That is a lot of rhythm! My hands were sore - and I could feel my arm muscles when I went to wash up at the end of the night.

We played around with bembe for a while - a very fun rhythm - and then sang some songs to that rhythm, and some other made-up rhythms. We played yambu, then jammed on conga (a new rhythm for us all) and guaguanco, another rumba. We took turns soloing in the hot seat. And closed with aisa, a beautiful rhythm that I still can't remember.

I have had a hard time enjoying drumming lately. My mind seems to go elsewhere, which is kind of the opposite of where you need to be when drumming. The only time I fully got into it was probably soloing, because you have to listen to the rhythm to know what to play. And possibly, playing high drum on bembe, where I think I can finally feel where it comes in.

It always comes back

About a decade ago, I experienced a cosmic connection involving two continents, two friends and a beautiful doll on a string. A few days ago I experienced the same phenomenon, though on a smaller scale.

On my last trip to Kyrgyzstan, I wanted to bring back beautiful fabric handicrafts for friends and relatives. I love fabric crafts, and love indigenous designs. I bought my grandma a felt seat-warmer in gorgeous shades of grey, cream and olive/spring green. Just recently when I was at her house, I was admiring it on her chair (not out loud). The colours and pattern just speak to me. But I gave it to her, I don't need it, and that's the way it is.

She was over for Christmas dinner the other day. I tend to be cold a lot, so I keep a cushion on my regular dining chair to keep me warm. I commented that maybe something we could make would be a flatter seat warmer, and she offered me back the wonderful one I'd given her. I hadn't been thinking of it at all. In fact, I'd had in mind these knitted/ quilted/ padded items I'd seen recently at our friends' home. I instantly refused, but she insisted, and sent it home with my mom when she dropped her off.

So now, I'm sitting on a beautiful hand-crafted Kyrgyz designed wool seat warmer - and loving it.

Words

After posting yesterday, I started to wonder if I really knew what the word "bemused" meant. I suppose because of its second syllable - "muse" - I intuited a connection with "amused." This lead me to my connotation of confused with a smile on your face - pleasantly puzzled, if you will. But when I started to think about it, I realized I wasn't sure. And I became concerned: proper use of words is fundamental to my identity. And how can I risk publishing a blog entry with the wrong word? Even if my readership is, oh, 2 people?

so I looked it up again.

From the dictionary option on dictionary.reference.com:
bemused: bewildered, confused

Moving over to the thesaurus:
absent-minded, unaware.

Apparently, I was right about the link with "amuse," which began life meaning 'to divert the attention of in order to mislead' So, bemused is confused because you were amused ...

Consumerism

Just finished reading "Not Buying It" by Judith Levine (2006) about the year she and her partner only purchased essential supplies. Full of reflections on how we ended up with a consumer society; the way it permeates all our activities; the role of gift giving and sharing as social bonding activities. Reading it reinforced my desire to participate less in the economy.

However, it didn't make me think that consumption is wrong. Some flow of resources through our lives can be very positive. Spending does allow us, in some ways, to contribute to or participate in society, and that isn't wrong. Newness adds energy. this doesn't mean that we need brand new; that we need a lot; that buying is the only way to accomplish these goals. But it did remind me, first, that we all probably could do with less; but no matter how much less, we will invariably need new things many, many times throughout our lives. Therefore, an economy and manufacturers and stores and products fill an important need. Even though I wonder what would happen if we experienced radical social collapse, this is clearly not an ideal. Being able to have so much more in the commons - to know that others will continue to produce essential products - is a form of social security, and in fact, enables us to avoid hoarding and live with less.

The other question, though, is what is produced, how much and how. And from that perspective, current western consumption is not sustainable. Vast quantities of consumer goods are produced annually. Many are intended to be disposable, or rendered obsolete by fashion very rapidly. Incredible quantities of resources are used to produce these things. Energy is used shipping bulk goods around the world. Cheap wages are needed to keep prices cheap to allow us to consume MORE. Replacing some of these with a slower turn-over, local production, higher quality, would certainly look differently and structure the economy differently.

Next to read up on: Herman Daly & steady state economies.

Into the past

Last night I went back in history. In my quest to streamline my life, I decided to sort my two gift-bags (small size!) of letters accumulated over the years. I didn't expect it to be such a reflective experience, but those letters brought back memories. People I didn't remember being close with; personal and deep thoughts, shared over distances; friends I'm no longer close with, or some I've newly re-found. I was happy to discover that I did correspond with friends; that I tried to maintain relationships, and support those who were far away from me. I was more bemused to discover how intensely I took communications, and life. I was intense! Heart-baring. Wow.

What was truly amazing was the realization that that form of communication no longer exists. The feeling of urgency about getting someone's postal address, or you might lose touch with them forever and never be able to hear from them again. The time put into composing a letter. The sense that there was a minimum length that was acceptable. Picking up a letter at different times to continue writing. The sense of a special bond that arose from these communications - hand-written, directed to you, containing more than the words: pictures, personally designed envelopes, doodles, those individual touches that let you know someone was thinking about you and wanted to share with you. And those letters as a network connecting you with a few precious individuals in widely dispersed locations. Without the letters, how could the friendship be sustained? And finally - waiting. Waiting weeks or months for a letter. Knowing that if you wrote to someone, you could reasonably expect to wait weeks if not months to hear back.

Something is different between those letters and email. Something about the space - the time delays - chances for reflection - handwritten missives compared to typing - makes them a particularly strong form of connection. Or possibly: I'm just not a teenager any more.

Blemished perfection

Yesterday I got my desk! It is a beautiful thing: sleek and simple with beautiful legs. It fits perfectly under the window, and I feel incredibly comfortable sitting at it.
It came with a matching bookshelf, 6 shelves, and wow - I can put out some of my books! This is really feeling like a place I can work now.

As I went to put my computer back on the table last night, I was carrying a pen in my right hand. And the pen marked up the unfinished top of my beautiful table.
that is the way it goes. I erased out most of it - but it is now officially a table for work. Though its blemished beauty is still beautiful.

The end of the world

I'm fascinated by end-of-the-world type catastrophic thinking. The Day After Tomorrow, for example - while clearly a BAD film - was great!

Today I went to see the new Will Smith movie with a friend - I Am Legend


He's the last man in NYC/ the earth after a mutant virus created by humans to cure cancer kills everyone off. Well, not the LAST man ... there are vampires, mutated humans infected with the virus, who attack. And are not always repelled by bullets. And seem to have developed super-human climbing powers ...

So, the NYT review is quite glowing, actually. And I thought WS did a pretty good job. But ... first, why all the guns?? why all the shooting? That disturbs me. Second: how did he still have electricity and running water? Thirdly: awfully fortuitous that the streets were clear enough in some places to enable full navigation around the city. Fourth: honestly, if the humans have devolved that much, how do they a) climb poles like monkeys, and b) withstand sprays of bullets?

And in terms of the content - I would have much preferred a real examination of rebuilding a civilization post-apocalypse rather than repelling attacks of freaks. I think that's the much more interesting question.

My two cents.

Almost Free

Tomorrow is my last day at this job. And though it's been great ... YAY!

Because after tomorrow, I will be able to focus. I will focus on the research and writing projects that interest me, that I feel responsible for, about which I am passionate. And I can already feel that with that focus, I will be able to accomplish so much more than I have before. I can already feel things getting done far faster than they have in the past. It is incredibly exciting! Who knows what lies ahead? But I can't wait to find out.

The Perfect Tool

After watching another episode of Sex & the City, I realized that Carrie's desk is PERFECT. A simple rectangle with strong legs, a single shallow drawer just under the top, lovely medium-toned wood.
Yeah, they don't sell Carrie's desk in this town.

Two days ago, my mom & I hit all the 2nd hand shops in town. Found two remote possibilities: an old formica dining room table with metal legs - but really, too big. And an older electric sewing machine - one of those that folds into the body of the desk. It was BEAUTIFUL: the most lovely honey-toned wood, solid, strong legs. It made me happy just touching it (in spite of the dust). And it had two functional drawers to the right. And only $30. However - too small. Sadly. If I had a home, I would have bought it, but it was too small, and why buy something that does not meet my needs?

So today, my dad & I hit all the rest of the furniture stores in town. Keeping in mind my "no cheap crap materials" rule, the cheapest we found was $319 for a not bad desk. But not really what I wanted. Store after store - utterly exhausting. Fortunately, he had found four table legs in the garage that he bought a few years ago, so he's having a friend make a table for me. Which might come in at $300 - but it will be MINE, and it will be WOOD, and I will love it.

And I will write.

Tools of the Trade

I am a writer. I need to equip myself. Whereas a few decades ago this would have meant a typewriter, and a hundred years ago, pen & paper (I'm just guessing here - I really have no idea when these technologies came into widespread use - though I'm going to pull a feminist interpretive play here and assume that regardless, they'd be used later by women), today this means a computer, my laptop in particular. However, one element is common no matter what you use for writing: a table. You need something to place the writing implement on; a space to sit at comfortably; and a place where you can focus. Without a desk, it is very hard to get to the writing. Any show with a writer (Sex & the City and Something's Gotta Give come to mind) highlight the writer at a TABLE. A simple or elaborate piece of furniture that enables you to sit down and work.

I don't have a table. I barely have room for one, but I will squeeze it into my bedroom ... when I find one. That is the challenge. How do you find the right writing tool?? Just any table won't do. I refuse to get fibreboard fakeness, and artificial wood makes me ill. I scoured the 2nd hand stores in town yesterday, with little success. An old dining table at Share downtown had some possibilities, but was too large for my small bedroom. An "old" table at Salvation Army was okay, but on the small side, and not worth $80. A quite gorgeous writing desk with cubbyholes and a decent writing surface looked good - but it was $395, the cubbies were cute but not useful for me, and even for that money, the bottom of the drawers were - yes - fibreboard. Yech. An old sewing machine for $30 (one of those that roll into the top) was made of gorgeous old wood, and was strong and stable - but it was a sewing machine, and too small. My dad says he can't make one.

So, the search continues. I know I can technically write without a table - but I really can't. There is no other private space in the house; no place to organize my papers - no quiet place to retreat to. I NEED a table. I need a room. I need to re-read Virginia Woolf.

Writing is Therapy

My new career path involves staying home. The plan: buy a desk, set up an office in my bedroom, and WRITE. Write those articles I've been working on for years; publish something from my master's thesis that's been sitting around for a decade; work on the fun book projects I've had over time. I love to write; I love the process, coming up with ideas, finding the best way to say something, and creating a product that is meaningful and communicates with others.

Then why is it that no sooner do I sit down to write than I'm overcome with anxiety and depression?

I look at things on the computer and get overwhelmed with insecurity about my career, my potential, how I'm doing compared to friends & acquaintances, whether I have any abilities at all as a writer or a professional, if I have any original ideas to share ... etc. etc. It brings out all my worries. Which, I think, is why I need to do it. Force myself to face those things, process them and move forward. Because otherwise they will continue to dog me and slow me down from becoming who I want to be.

Recreated

I understand that over a 7 year period, every cell in your body is replaced. I am wondering what kind of a new life I could create for myself if I really tried to build a better me over the next seven years. Primarily, what paths in my brain could I reprogram if I thought only positive thoughts from now on?

This came back to me yesterday as I was collapsing under the stress of a new job. I don't want to do that. And I would love to look back in 7 years and realize I've become a new person with new ways of coping with the challenges of life. I'm going to try. I'm going to work on replacing dysfunctional and negative thoughts with accurate, positive, encouraging ones. Thoughts that allow me to do what I need to do, and to live life with joy. It will take tremendous effort - but I think it will be worth it.

Pet Resolutions

After traveling for a week, and after concluding I will be at home for a while longer, I've come to the following pet resolutions:
-to continue to enjoy adorable dog Pico
-to pet cat Cleo every time she comes to the glass door in our dining room.

speaking of which ...

Why bother with faith?

This is something I've been asking myself lately. Some things I've had faith in, like finding a job, haven't worked out. People I've put faith in have let me down. I have begun to wonder, truly, why bother? Because I think repeated disappointment is wearing me out.

Fortunately, Christian literature has again come to my aid! I picked up "Live, Libby, and the Pursuit of Happiness" by Hope Lyda at the Bellingham Public Library ($3 in their used rack) and it was just what I needed. It looks at the role of faith - in oneself and others - as you attempt to be true to yourself and figure out your calling. While it did require willing suspension of disbelief (things do turn out right in the end - which is the point - but really?!), it illustrated the role of faith and trusting yourself in moving towards desirable solutions. It wasn't overly biblically-based, but the search for religious faith, and attendance at church, were definitely part of it (plus glances at cutting down on alcohol and not having sex - an impossibility in non-religious books of this genre). I've requested another of hers from the local library and can't wait to read it.