Dream of the Dead

Here is one of my favorite pictures of all time. My sister Rachel, my cousin Alex, and Rachel's daughter, Violet in 2008, though I don't know the exact date. 

Day of the Dead--Dia de los Muertos--began on Saturday and ended on Sunday. 

On Saturday night, I dreamed that I was to show Rachel her tombstone. She and I walked through the cemetery where she is buried, and I took her to her grave site. In the past, when I've dreamed of her, she's been alive in my dreams.  This was the first time that, in my dream, she was dead, but she was there walking with me.

Then I was alone.  I walked over to these raised garden beds about twenty feet away, which had overgrown broccoli which had been cut back. Imagine about ten broccoli stalks without florets or blooms, three feet long, inches thick, horizontal, with roots exposed. (Can you imagine this? I will include a picture of a broccoli plant too, below, just in case) but in my dream, my task was to tear them apart. I was peeling the fibrous stalks. If i could break them down, they could be back in the earth faster, composting, nutrients for future plants. That was the point.

That was my dream.

Here are the pictures:

I pulled this broccoli off a google search, from here.

I hope we meet again soon.

Being a Woman in the World, Part I

I put "Part I" in the title of this post, because I imagine this will be a series of anecdotes. Here are a couple tales of accidental insults for this first part.

Careful with Knives

October 3: I started the month off with some severe back pain (slipped disc, pinched nerve, muscle spasms, etc.) but was finally well enough to go out!  My parents were in town to see Kings of Leon, and they invited me and Ryan to go out with them. We ate at Public Kitchen, a very good restaurant at the Hotel Roosevelt.  The food was great, and the concert was terrific fun, but I have to skip the lovely family moments and talk about our waiter.

I generally have not been one to eat a ton of red meat, but I ordered a hamburger.  For some reason, it came with a steak knife. My father's dinner did too.  When the waiter handed a steak knife to me, he said, "Be careful with this," which was a red flag, so I watched his next move closely (I could see the other knife on the tray). When he handed a knife to my father, he said, "This is for self-defense."  I know the intent was to be cute or something, but I had to call him out on it.

I think I said something like, "The feminist in me has to point out that you told me to be careful and told my dad that it's for self-defense. We will both be careful and defend ourselves as necessary." My mom said, "Good job, Katie."

He actually made another inappropriate comment after that. I ate a lot of my hamburger (not all of it though). He told me as he cleared the plate that he was surprised by that, because I'm "such a little girl." His tone made it sound like a compliment, but I found it completely weird. Yes, I'm thin, but I'm also tall and also in my late 20's.

I hope he realizes some day that treating someone like a child is not a compliment.

What are you studying?

October 31: I was at a conference for work and had a room reserved so that I could film people somewhere quiet. Abbie and I were working together in there, but it was slow for a little while so I stepped out for a minute. When I came back, a man was in the room and Abbie was explaining what we were doing. The man, an instructor, took mild interest in this.

He then asked if we were students. I said, "I am." He asked, "What are you studying? Besides boys." Abbie jumped in and pointed out, politely, that it wasn't a fair assumption. I wanted to say, "That was offensive," but wondered if that was the best idea, since I was working. He pointed out that my face turned bright red. I finally said, "The feminist in me felt a bit riled up by that." He apologized and said, "My daughter's friend was just telling me she was just in school to meet boys...you know... MRS degree?" chuckles. "Boys are stupid." And Abbie again: "Well that wasn't very nice either."  He apologized, and I apologized for making him uncomfortable, and finally he left.  Thank God for Abbie in that moment.

The Feminist in Me

Abbie pointed out to me that I had nothing to apologize for, and I shouldn't do that. I already had enormous respect for her, but her quick wit and good sense in this scenario made me respect her even more.

Why did I feel like I needed to apologize to these people? To avoid conflict? To show that something so minor wasn't really upsetting me?  In these scenarios I've shared, I've not been hurt, but that is partly due to the fact that I've been really used to it. When I was a teenager, I didn't feel insulted when I was treated like a child, because I didn't feel entirely like a grown-up yet anyway.  Of course I noticed that I was treated differently than men sometimes, but I didn't really pay attention, so it didn't bother me.

Now it bothers me, and I'm still figuring out the best way to address these occurrences as they arise. You probably realized that I used language to distance myself from the situation--"The feminist in me feels..." instead of "I expect to be treated equally to men." I need to stop doing that too. I need to be more direct.

This is all a work in progress.

I took a "comp day" today--a day off since I worked at the conference on Saturday. I needed this day off. I voted. Got a smog check. Renewed my car registration. Got a haircut, a car wash, went to Target... and finally checked in with you all in Nonsensicalifornia.

My Back, my Breakfast

Yesterday, in the morning, I sneezed and threw my back out.

I had it adjusted, and I've been icing it, but the thought of sitting in a chair all day is scaring me.

This happened in January too. No major lifting, but some disc slipped and pinched a nerve. I had to miss work. I really don't want to miss more. I have a lot to do. And it is a good place to be.

The cats are running around. I'm thinking of my morning question: granola or toast?

I am SO EXCITED for Saturday, since my parents will be in town and we will eat breakfast together (speaking of breakfast)!

Yessssssss.

K

Radio Silence, and the end of September

Radio waves
hello goodbye
waves crash
radio laugh
hello goodbye
radio cry

radio silence
off or volume down
nothing to broadcast
nothing in the evening
radio sleeping
not touching the dial

There are times in my life--and I've been faced with by this lately--when I cannot listen to the radio in the car--or to music, audiobooks, or anything.  My mind needs quiet. Certainly yours does too.

I read a biology article a few weeks ago called, "This is Your Brain on Silence."  It says that "two hours of silence per day prompted cell development in the hippocampus region of the brain" (Daniel A. Gross). This part of the brain helps turn your short-term memory into long-term memory.

I haven't been cultivating quiet time in my life because of that article, but reading it helped me feel better about my brief inability to soak up anything else.  I suppose I was feeling overstimulated, or that I, as a sponge, was full. I had to accelerate, had to change momentum, to step up into Fall mode (very busy! homework!) from Summer mode (you know).

I think that changed this weekend.  I had fun! Also, I don't think I went to bed any later than 9:30 for the past few days. Ahhhhhhhh.

On Friday, Ryan and I saw Chickspeare, and we loved it!  We also watched the new episodes of Scandal and Modern Family.  On Saturday I met my dear friend Rachel for breakfast, which was soooo good since I hadn't seen her since she moved to Florida in early 2013.  I cleaned my house, bought groceries, made enchiladas.... tasks all very overdue! On Sunday, Ryan and I saw The Importance of Being Earnest--loved it. I'd read it a couple times, but had never seen it. I was so happy that I could do that.

AND on Thursday my class is seeing a play by Samuel Beckett, so that makes three stage performances in seven days for me! How very strange it is! How very lucky I am! I also feel lucky that we only have to read one play (the one we're seeing) for class this week.  Usually we read about 3 plays and 2 academic articles per week, so this feels like time off.

I should be off to work in a few minutes.  I'll clean up my French toast and cuddle my cats first, though. Okay, see you!

Katie

Supernatural

I have to write a paper. I am avoiding it a little bit.  It's okay.  It's nothing. 2-3 pages.  That is like taking a shower (...right?) No big deal, I say.

But you know what I'm liking right now? I'm liking this song called "Supernatural" by King. Oh yes I am.

Maybe I can be supernatural.

Maybe I can write about how Harold Pinter is such a Modernist. Maybe I should write about the intersection of politics and art. But honestly... 

In other news....

Last week I went to the bank to change my name on my account, and today I got my new ATM card and it has my old/wrong name on it. Silly bankers. No thankers. It's okay, I'm groaning for you, reader. I know that rhyme was bad.

But it might just be better than this paper I'm about to write.  Nah. This will be okay.

Everything is gonna be

oh

k

Pep Talk

Take charge!

You can do it!

Know your power!

Fight on!

Do your best!

It will be okay!

Taking Heart

When Rachel is in my dreams, I take it for granted that she is alive in my dreamscape.  Last night in my dream I went to pick up Rachel at her newish address on Jeff Street. She had lived there for a while, actually, but I hadn't been there before. Clement, O'Farrell, Bush, Jeff.  My mom and I walked through the surrounding neighborhood. One house had a Spanish-style courtyard out front, with a wrought-iron chandelierish thing hanging, and lots of wisteria-like purple flowers draping across in all directions.

In my dreams of Rachel, she and Hannah and I have sat on the floor, in front of long mirrors, putting on makeup and talking.  She's sat at the table among us.

The other day, I saw "SK" in large letters on some junk mail, and it triggered memories of when we'd go to get donuts. Rachel liked maple bars and I never did. It's nice to have someone to eat your maple candies. Or whatever candies aren't your favorite.

I still have lip balm from her and the perfume she used to wear. 

Rachel was my original strong female role model.  Maybe I was thinking of her in my dream to help myself take heart and keep my wits about me.  Life is good (thank goodness), but a little busier lately that the past few weeks have been.  Some extra heart and strength would be good right now.