my new old house

It's been awhile. I occasionally come back take a quick look at the date, my head falls forward and ask myself, "Has it been that long?".

Yes Sir. It's been that long.

It's been so long that the movie that Sten and been working on for over two years finally came to end.
It's been so long that I can say that we got our act together, clean up the house and are days away from the house going on the market. It's a miracle.

I've painted, packed, scraped, scrubbed, swept, taped and all those other words that are involved when getting your house ready to sell. I've watch boxes of stuff I wanted to move out and back into a storage unit. There were days I was working on the house for days straight putting in 12+ hours each day. I mean the last time I worked that hard was when I was I was in graduate school and feeling like I was drowning to meet deadlines. Except this time I have aching muscles and streaks of paint all over my old sweats. I had slurpees.

And now that it's all said and done the house looks NOTHING like my house. All my books, music and art are all packed up. The kitchen counters are BARE. All this stuff has gone into some undisclosed place putting on layers of dust for me when I move them out. Instead in my house is furniture that isn't even mine. I can honestly say that there isn't one room that house that has gotten some new paint in it. The red bedroom I thought was so cool is very safe taupe. And that bright deep orange kitchen...white...after 3 or 4 coats of paint.

But overall, the experience of sprucing up the old place was worth it. It looks gorgeous. And in many ways, it was a great way to leave it. I got to make the house pretty and nice (much nicer than when we found it.) for the new owners. I feel like I've passing on something that I was proud to have owned.

Yes, HAVE owned. I'm ready to let it go and move on. Actually I'm ready to sleep. I'm ready for a weekend where I am not spending a third of my day going to Home Depot buying another pack of paint rollers and, at the very last minute, a candy bar.

I'm ready for non-necessary activities. Bring it on!! I dream of ocean breezes and calm nights in front of the campfire.

fly on the windscreen

For the past month I've started and stopped writing posts. I  going and as soon as I start thinking to hard about it the post is left in limbo.

So tonight I'm finally going to write something, even if it's a meaningless post.

I'm listening to Depeche Mode and I'm feeling nostalgic.

You see I'm one of those people that when I hear a song I can almost go back to where I wasin my mind's eye. 

For example, I'm listening to DM, " A Question of Time". I can imagine myself in the late 80's and I'm dancing in the middle of my bedroom. Which, if you must know, was the best teenage bedroom. I had a bedroom that was right above the garage and far away from my parents bedroom. The ceiling was slanted which was perfect for the numerous Duran Duran posters and pictures I had up. Luckily for me, the ceiling was covered with what I can only describe as possibly soundproofing tiles. It was like thin foam that was perfect for pushpins. And to top it off, I had my own private staircase that led to the laundry room which, for me, was great since I just threw my clothes to the bottom.

But let's get back to the late 80's. I'm dancing in the middle of my room wishing I was hanging out with my friend Heidi who lived in Shoreline. I'm so wrapped up in the music that I close my eyes as i dance in my room. I can imagine that I am wishing I was at some school dance and this time I'm not afraid of talking to the boys in my class. I probably have several black plastic bracelets in on one wrists as I twirl myself in my daydream. 

I think I can't wait to get older. 

Detour

I promised in my last entry that I would reveal some reasons why last year's goal of doing a TRI didn't happen however something happened in the last week that needs to be shared first.

But some history first.

Almost two years ago, my right cornea was replaced. I got an organ transplant which left me with better-than-ever eyesight in that eye.  I was shocked to see how much I was missing on a daily basis since before the transplant I would rarely wear my hard contacts when I didn't have to because it they were really uncomfortable. I guess you could say I would rather be comfortable than see.

Since my surgery, I haven't had to wear contacts in my right eye. Although my eye sight was better I always knew that it was far from perfect. I passed the eye test knowing that the letters were slightly blurry. Even when I would wear my other contact in my left eye, my depth perception was never great and my ability to see crisps lines was never there.

So several weeks ago I went in to get my left eye looked at and although it wasn't scheduled, I asked for the doctor to check out my right eye. Sure my eyes were okay but it looked like have had a stigmatism this whole time. When I looked through the optical thingy they have to correct your eyesight on site, I was shocked. For the first time I years I saw crisp lines. I would perceive depth (without faking....) So the doc gave me a prescription and off I went to get glasses.

Dude. That was the word I kept saying the day I got my new glasses. I could see. I could really see. The first morning I put on my glasses and my contact I had to just walk around my house a bit to get my balance. I was amazed and shocked to find what  I had been missing.  I could really see color in it's intensity for the first time in a long time and for the past week I have been staring at everything. Just last night I was mesmerized by some purple and green lettuce while shopping at the grocery store. I was amazed at the deep purple veins that ran through the lavender leaves that I spent a few moments petting them. I couldn't believe this beautiful thing was just sitting there going unnoticed. I wanted to point out to the people nearby this wonderful pattern nature set up for us to see ( and eat). Needless to say, it was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. 

shhh....I'm back

Last time I visited blogsphere, I was just finishing up my teacher's certification program, training for a triathlon, and intermittently taking voice lessons.

Speed up to Febuary 2009.

What am I doing now? Reading books, occasionally working out and journaling A LOT.

Like other bloggers who have a hard time 'fessing up to anybody that they stopped training ( losting weight, etc), I stopped blogging when I stopped training. I wanted to leave the blogsphere a bit more hopeful as if I could stop time and just stay in that moment when I was in the midst of grueling training and hopeful that i was going to do the triathlon in August. What I found, to my dismay, was that time does't stop for me if I blogged or not and that I would eventually get tired of seeing the date of June 2008 forever engrained on my blog.


So I'm here now walking back in giving up an update.


No I didn't do the triathlon. Insead,I volunteered instead and screamed cheers for those who were doing it. At first, I was elated to find myself amongst friends cheering them on as they went to hurt themselves purposefully. I was amazed that I could wake up at 430am and watch lighting strike across the water as the sun rose. What I wasn't expecting was how torn I was between feeling glad I wasn't in the water and mad that i wasn' in the water. Afterwards, I feel asleep tired from all the screaming and from being in the sun most of the morning.

When I awoke the next day I felt defeated, to be honest, for awhile, I feel into a depression. I took my self-esteem and dug a gigantic deep hole for it to crawl into and then sat there for a long time. (along with some junk food for good measure). You might question why I didn't do it. What happened?

Because I was't really ready to hear the truth I sat longer in my house wondering and running various reasons in my head until they spun. That was until finally a co-worker of mine said to me, after hearing me talking again how down I was, " you always so you want to journal but you never do."

To be honest, I had heard that journaling is therapeutic so , as always, I started reading up on journalling. Sure, I had heard that writing helps you get your thoughts from your mind on paper and somehow that seperation helps you see yourself more clearly. So I got books on ways to journal, I read a journal and finally FINALLY I got it and it was because of this quote:

"....because paper has more patience than people."

For me, this saying by a very insightful young girl named Anne Frank, clicked for me. This girl's words who lived over 50 years ago spoke to me deeply. I realized that I could use my journal to write whatever I wanted for as long as I wanted. I could say that I really desperately wanted to say without the social filter we so often put on to protect ourselves and, at times, our friends and family. I could say the TRUTH without worrying. (and my friends, I worry a lot.)

So I'm writing A LOT. I'm trying very hard to accept myself for who I am by looking straight into my reflection rather than only selectively peeking. It's been difficult and hard but I am so grateful I have an outlet now that works for me.

So you might wonder, did I ever find out why I didn't do the triathlon...

Read my next entry....coming soon.

I'm spent

This weekend I did nothing.

This kind of weekend was a long time coming. After 15 months of school to get my professional certificate followed by a emotional weekend that involved burying my father-in-law that also involved a yearly family reunion, I didn't feel that my mind could take much more. So, without really planning it, I did nothing this weekend.

Let me rephrase, I didn't so anything this weekend that I HAD TO DO. I didn't pressure myself into anything. If I wanted to workout, I worked out because I wanted to. If I wanted to spend my sunday morning in front of the TV, watching a half season of "Deadliest Catch" while eating some Filipino sausage and rice, then I did so. I took naps. I went to the movies. I read a book.

I was so tired that I cried.

I wasn't really expecting this outburst of crying. To be honest, I was hoping that I was going to go through the weekend in a blissful, if a bit foggy, stage all weekend. I was going to relish not feeling guilty for not working on homework or, if I was really on top of it, having precious weekend hours fly by while hyperfocused on work ending in a dazed state to find it monday morning facing a week filled with...well more work.

So I was surprised to find myself crying my eyes out. I was standing at Pacific Place after watching a mediocre Indiana Jones movie, feeling as if the world was collpasing on me. Earlier in the day, I felt like I had a panic attack; my arms and chest feeling like lead. They felt so heavy but eerily detached. So try to worm myself this dark spiral, I went swimming hoping the regular beat of my swim strokes would soothe me. It helped for a little while but at 830pm, it hit me. I wanted to cry. Luckly, my wonderful husband, quickly got me in the car and as soon as I sat down i burst into tears. I felt like I was crying and howling at the same time. The tension I had been holding on for so long was breaking. It was scary and relieving at the same time. I must have cried for 10 minutes and when I was done I was tired yet awake. I felt so free and I felt so tired. ( To be honest, I don't think I'm done with all my crying..but it was a good start.)

So for the rest of the weekend, I didn't do much. I watched ALOT of TV on dvd. I listened to my body and let it rest. The only thing I really did on sunday was convince my husband to drive to Alki beach to get pizza and skip rock into the sound. As we sat there watching the weather suddenly go from warm to cold after eating an "appetizer" of oyster and fries with a large helping of tartar sauce (oh golly I love tartar sauce) before our pizza, I relished the fact that this is the most work I had done all day. Boy, did that feel good.

bike riding

Yesterday I decided it was the day that I was going to try out the new clip pedals on my bike. 

I was completely scared out of my wits since the idea of being locked into your pedals  is intimidating. I had tried getting my feet in and out of the pedals during the week but nothing is like doing it while you're actually moving and trying to dodge traffic. 

But now is better than later right?

Sunday was a beautiful day. It wasn't blistering hot like the day before but a nice 75 degrees outside.  So with some hesitation, Spoinky and I went down to Lake Washington BLVD to try out the new pedals and get some bike riding in.  On the way there, I had many thoughts and visions of me falling down or getting hit by a car. These thoughts and pictures ran through my mind like some freakish commercial with flashes every 5 seconds. The images were  long enough for me to be in a permanent state of panic.

Then it suddenly dawned on me that this kind of thinking wasn't helpful. I was already condemning myself for failure and I hadn't even put my helmet on. I started to take in some deep breaths ( here's a visual for you: smell the flowers, blow out the candle) and thought some good thoughts.  I imagined just riding my bike.

As we approached the road down to Lake Washington BLVD, I noticed a road closed sign. As we got closer, we realized that LW BLVD was closed off for bicyclists only. No kidding.  At this moment I felt like it was a sign from GOD telling me, " You Go Girl." I was able to try out my new pedals without the fear of being struck by  car. It was glorious and a wonderful experience.

remodeling...cough cough

I've never remodeled before until this week.

The extent of my "remodeling" has been small. I've done painting here and there. I know how to tape a room to get it ready. I've sanded and varnished. But that's about it. Up until now, I've never really done anything that has impacted me.

To be honest, I think I'm being a bit of a baby about it. I'm not doing of the hard labor. I'm not in there ripping apart my front porch or the odd wall material in my bedroom. In fact, I'm paying somebody else to do it all. But having strangers in my house while I'm away wasn't really something I hadn't thought all that much about. But then I did. I started to think about how they were probably touching "MY" stuff and how i didn't like it. (I had images of them finding my awful panties that really should be thrown away and laughing.) When I got home, I found that these mysterious strangers were leaving a large amount of dust everywhere. Enough dust to give me several asthma attacks (which was a new experience for me.) which let me scared. Then, because the MuzzlePuff is so young, I felt obligated to drive him to Kitty daycare since Sten and I didn't think that he could handle being in the small backroom all day.

I can now say I don't like remodeling and I have even more respect for those who DIY people.

pictures coming soon