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Thursday, 30 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 30 Aug, 2007 |
Wednesday, 29 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 29 Aug, 2007 |
Blogging in Portland has certainly changed. Of the bunches of attendees who RSVPd for tonights. KATU blogger meetup, I know...one. Two, if JD decides to stop by. If I'm not feeling too craptacular, I shall be there wearing a Blogathon shirt. I should have gotten a bunch of swag. I am a terrible, terrible networker. I shall print out a stack of cards, at least. Just to be all friendly-like, I thought I'd link everyone who has listed their site on the guest list. If you see this, say hello. TJ Norris Those are just the confirmed ones who listed websites that would load. Oh, and didn't look like spammers (there were only a couple). Wanna crash the party? See you tonight!
~Portland~ | Cat Connor | 29 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](1)
Saturday, 25 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 25 Aug, 2007 |
Friday, 24 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 24 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](1)
Last night finally found us at Bodyworlds 3 at OMSI. Amazing. The first part of the exhibit is the development of a human at, I believe, every week of pregnancy. As soon as there is a difference to be seen, both male and female examples are presented. I was awed by the female at about 25 weeks, her sex delicately carved, as if she'd been marked with her name by an alien hand. The most surprising thing about the exhibit was its accessibility. While you were asked not to touch anything, the plastinates were not at a distance, and many of them were free of glass encasement. Visitors were able to lean in nose-to-nose, as it were, and examine these fascinating people closely. What a great place to have a biologist spouse. At one of the first specimens, two other visitors were wondering aloud about the sheath covering the torso. Bill was handy with a great explanation. He kept himself to my questions afterwards. I had a feeling people would have been trailing him like a piper otherwise. What's that stuff that looks like tape? It's everywhere? Wow. I discovered that lungs are ugly, whether you smoke or not, that I do know where to deliver a kidney punch, and that the liver is larger than I thought it was. Big bloody blob, that. For learning about the body, nothing compares to seeing it. Books do not have the depth, and models are not compelling. For those who aren't sure they could stomach seeing Bodyworlds, I recommend giving it a try. The anonymity and theatrical poses of the bodies ameliorates our natural human empathy. Well, except for wincing at the flayed penis. I had some reluctance myself, but I was utterly enthralled. It can be preachy in bits (they have Yul Brynner's anti-smoking ad on a loop), but that's fairly easy to ignore as you become immersed in beautiful anatomy. And now I'm going to sound like an ad myself: Bodyworlds 3 is at OMSI for only a few more weeks. Go.
~~ | Cat Connor | 24 Aug, 2007 |
Thursday, 23 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 23 Aug, 2007 |
(so, spoiler alert, if you're as far behind on Stargate as we are) [JONAS QUINN has seen a huge bug that no one else sees] [Spousal Unit]: Get thee to the infirmary!
~~ | Cat Connor | 23 Aug, 2007 |
Wednesday, 22 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 22 Aug, 2007 |
There is a black XTerra we often tail to work, which sports a "What Would Bukowski Do?" bumper sticker on the back. We've taken to calling it the Chuckwagon.
~~ | Cat Connor | 22 Aug, 2007 |
Tuesday, 21 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 21 Aug, 2007 |
 It isn't the world's fanciest guitar, but it sounds nice, and the body fits me. I shall have to get used to a classical fret board, which is wider than the country I learned on, but I prefer the sound and my fingers prefer the nylon strings. The action is very good, and the instrument is solidly built. It has been a long time since I played. Whether I do anything with it remains to be seen.
~~ | Cat Connor | 21 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](2)
Just got an invite to a Portland Blogger meetup hosted by KATU on August 29. I'm not a big eVite user, so I'll just copy the details here: Host: KATU-TV Obviously it's a little hard for you to RSVP to a post on my site, but if you leave me a comment or email me, I will get an invitation out to you.
~Portland~ | Cat Connor | 21 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](1)
Monday, 20 August
I've been sleeping a lot. Could be about anything. Including just being sleepy. Did wake up long enough to try to visit Ikea on Saturday, but we didn't know the secret handshake. You can see the Ikea, you can almost touch the Ikea, but can you get to the Ikea? No, not unless you know the extra-special Way of Ikea. During our lost wandering, we saw alluring signs that said "Cat Show". Alas, I was too cranky to heed them. So we went home, looked up the bloody directions, and tried again on Sunday. Still missed it, but by serendipity, we ended up lost in the same area as before, and this time we followed the signs to an out-of-the-way Holiday Inn, hosting a cat show of unknown provenance. For $5 each (it would have been $3 if we'd known to bring some food), we wandered the aisles, gazing at feline beauty. We even got to pet several. I fell in love with the diminutive Singapura; a graceful, kitten-sized cat with enormous, attentive eyes. A perfect shoulder cat. Both of us fell head-first for a wonderful Sphinx, whose slim head housed the most beautiful face I have ever seen on a cat. Her owner came by to give her some attention while we were there, and we got to pet her warm, downy skin. Of course, there was the obligatory presence of a cat-rescue organization, tempting us to bring a companion home for KC. But we know better--KC is happy the way things are, so we resisted. Oh, and we finally did make it to Ikea. It was...interesting...from an anthropological standpoint. I do like their design sense. I don't like their store layout. The crowd was insane. I can't imagine actually buying anything there, but I can imagine swiping some of their room ideas. Then it was nap time. PS: We are now on season six of Stargate, and we miss Daniel Jackson. I'm glad we're watching it on DVD, and know he's coming back. If we'd been watching this as it was broadcast, we might have given up in despair. PPS: I'm thinking of doing something crazy today.
~~ | Cat Connor | 20 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](5)
Saturday, 18 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 18 Aug, 2007 |
Friday, 17 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 17 Aug, 2007 |
It is a strange time for my body. Lots of TMI ahead. Run away if you don't want to know about my armpits. I am extremely hesitant to write about this at all. I don't like writing about changes as they are happening; I don't want to challenge the gods to fuck me over. I'm losing weight. It is a side-effect of some medication that is otherwise working well, so I'm probably on it for the long run. I was going to go in to more detail on that, but it sounded too much like an apology. I don't believe that fat people are sick, and I sure as hell don't believe the ridiculous hate in the media for all things unwaiflike. Apparently, a woman is only worth fucking if you can break her over your knee. Screw that. Okay okay, I didn't come here to rant. I came here to talk about how I feel. Being fat is an effect of a long-term illness that you've all heard me talk about at length. As a means of self-medication, food is better than anything anyone else in my family chose. If I weren't fat, I suspect I would be dead. So I don't regret these pounds. There are other reasons--stupid shit I did. But that doesn't matter. What matters is the belt I finally had to buy, because I didn't want to replace all of my clothes again. How the heavy buckle pokes out a bit. The form-fitting shirts I was so proud of myself for buying (because a fat woman isn't supposed to show her curves) no longer fit my form. Well, they're comfortable enough. So those are the changes. They aren't all that visible to the outside world yet, but they are profound for me. What's dangerous: the more I lose, the more I want to lose. I'm filled with dread at the thought of rebounding. I'm curious about the number on the scale, though I've resisted buying one. I've skipped my usual healthy breakfast for three days now--patently stupid. I open the refrigerator with trepidation. Nonetheless, I'm coping, and having a good lunch. What's confusing: I find myself wanting to do the girly things that I've always found oppressive. I bought perfume. This morning, I shaved my amazon pits. I lifted my arm proudly for Bill, and he shuddered. "Why would you do an awful thing like that to yourself? Didn't it hurt? Won't it itch?" He asked. Hormones, no, probably, I said. I rationalize by thinking hey, I don't even like men's hairy pits, so if I have the freedom to shave mine, why not? I like nice smells (a lot, I'm very nose-centric), so why the hell shouldn't I have a little bottle of Satsuma? Next: it's just lip gloss! Foundation protects me from UV rays! I like the feel of hairless legs! Heels make my calves look sexy! Sorry, can't have lunch, I have a Brazilian wax scheduled! My unrepentant commitment to comfort and convenience is faltering. In the awful Barbra Streisand movie, The Mirror Has Two Faces, Babs is talking about her transformation with her sister, played by Mimi Rogers. Mimi doesn't congratulate her. She says "Now you spend an extra hour in front of the mirror every morning and every night." And she goes on from there about the perils of beauty. I don't want to be that woman. I'm still wearing jeans and tromping around in my same basic dressy loafers. I'm just conflicted. I don't mind that my body is becoming different. I mind that decades of brainwashing is making me want things I didn't want before. Or maybe I just don't like the look of hairy armpits, and I'm finally giving myself permission to get out the razor. Christ, woman, relax. So I'm trying to roll with this. I will probably swing too far one way, then back again. And now I realize I have a point here. That I am seriously over-thinking this. I'm old enough to do whatever the hell I feel like doing, as long as I'm having fun. I'll sort the rest out later. Right after my pedicure.
~~ | Cat Connor | 17 Aug, 2007 |
| [Comments](2)
Thursday, 16 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 16 Aug, 2007 |
As I tell my stories, I think how I have had a long life, and I have many small stories. But. Think about something you have done forty-two times. Washed the dishes, perhaps. How many times did it take you to get good at it? Five? Ten? Are you an expert at dishes, having done it at least thirty times? I have seen forty-two springs. For the first thirty repetitions, I noticed the seasons only for their various inconveniences. Later, my life was still so unstable that I could not take in the rhythm of the changes around me. Too many places changed, and my heart was whirling, my mind insulated. For a while, I had one place, and I began to notice the seasons for their duties. This is when we plant. This is when we have a barbecue. This is when we decorate. My places changed again, but then I settled. My heart stopped raging, and I began to notice the smells of the months. I anticipated the posture of a certain tree I passed each day. I knew when it would blanket the park in a sea of yellowed leaves, I knew when its fruit would stink. We greeted one another as friends each morning. How is it with you? People are gathering my droppings today. And you? Oh, I am enjoying my walk to work. From that tree, I began to accept the weather patterns I had always noticed in the back of my mind. I let myself get wet in the rain. I groused a bit at the end of winter, ready for the false spring I knew would arrive soon. Sometimes, I planted. Mostly, I opened my windows to smell the air, and watch my old cat twitch at the squirrels. Forty-two is not enough to become practiced. Only in the last few repetitions have I felt the cycle connect with my body and sweep me through it. I still have not given myself over entirely to the habits of the seasons. This is when we hike. This is when we send cards. Each year, I become more prepared, anticipating the needs of the season. If you are young, pick a tree.
~~ | Cat Connor | 16 Aug, 2007 |
Wednesday, 15 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 15 Aug, 2007 |
When I was about ten, I found a kitten in the dusty drive-in across the street. She did not skitter away when I approached to retrieve her, she just crouched, mewing at the top of her lungs, hungry, lonely, confused. I took her home and cleaned her up. I found I had a lovely white long-hair kitty, with one blue eye and one green. She did not run from me because she was deaf, as is common in cats with her fur and eye coloring. I took her everywhere with me for a few days. I'm sure I was miserably allergic, but that hardly mattered to me. I imagine my mother was less pleased with the swollen eyes and runny nose. I think the end of that story is that we went door to door, and found the kitten belonged to the house on the corner. I think I remember that. At about the same time (for memories tend to group in places, so this is today's place), I heard that on May Day, it was traditional to anonymously leave a gift of flowers on the doorstep of an older person. Behind our apartment, hidden safely in a deep garden, was The Old Woman That Scares The Neighborhood Kids. I can almost see her face, but not really. It is just an old woman face. Then, it was a little scary. Now, thinking back, it seems lovely, if furrowed. The generic old woman of my mind--I shall be her someday. One May Day, after I heard this of inexplicable flower rite (I have not heard of it since), my cousins and I crept up to her door and left a small basket of daffodils, and then we ran away in terror. At least I think we did. Perhaps I only imagined doing it so many times, that the memory seems real. Not long after (still in the same place), I began to develop breasts. The most popular/notorious boy in school began to notice me. I don't remember his name. He asked me, two years behind him, to be his girlfriend. I didn't know what the position entailed, but I agreed, flattered. We proceeded to meet for a time each day, and walk together and talk. Often other friends were around, as is usual with children. Sometimes he would touch my hand, but he was never warm, and I was never sure of him. One day he sat in a tree, as I stood on the ground (I was trying to be girl-like for him), and he asked me if I wanted to hump. What? I asked. He said, you know, and made a circle with his left thumb and forefinger, and poked his right forefinger through the hole rhythmically. Nonplussed, I blinked at him, and said I didn't think so. I didn't want to admit that I hadn't the first idea what he was talking about, though I suspect he knew. He made a disgusted sound and got down from the tree, leaving me there. The next day we met only so he could inform me that he was going back to his former girlfriend, as she was "more exciting". I don't remember being hurt. Maybe insulted. At least I remember the end of that story.
~~ | Cat Connor | 15 Aug, 2007 |
Tuesday, 14 August
On the bus, I have a secret friend. She is more than a random rider nickname, like "creepy guy" or "industrial accident". She seems...nice. She has some guy's name tattooed on her foot, which she usually covers. I hope it isn't an ex-boyfriend. She is next-door cute, with medium-length dark hair. She wears glasses like mine. Some of her clothes look embellished or handmade, so I think she's crafty. She seems a little geeky. She doesn't talk much, but she often wears a little smile. I will never talk to her, because I'm afraid of people. But I think we would be friends if we had the opportunity. Maybe someday I'll take a class, and she'll be there, or I'll go to a concert, and she'll be there. I'll say, hey, you ride the 17. On the road, I have another secret friend. When we get off the elevator from the parking garage on 3rd and Taylor, there is usually a little silver Matrix parked near the corner. On the back window is a Cure sticker, and on the hatch is another sticker that says "Easily distracted by bright, shiny objects." The Spousal Unit and I call her "Shiny Things". I pictured her (I just knew the car belonged to a she) as a 20-something offbeat type. One day, we were driving down 4th, and she was just ahead of us, to the left. We had to see her. Had to. I maneuvered so we could get a glimpse of this secret friend whom we only knew by her familiar car. There she was, longish brown hair, glasses, my age. She was more like me than I thought! I knew we would be friends, if we ever met. Bet she has a blog. Bet she'll stumble across this post someday and think "Christ!", and never park in that spot again.
~~ | Cat Connor | 14 Aug, 2007 |
Monday, 13 August
I remember looking at the stars. In the front yard, on blankets, my sister and I identifying constellations. With my friend Brian, daydreaming, sure we'd be there someday. On my own, in the back yard, longing so deep my body shook. I wanted to will myself to Mars like John Carter. I wanted to meet someone who wasn't human, or see a landscape that wasn't Earth. I wanted to fly amongst those pinpoints of fire. I still do. In my forties now, I find it very hard to accept that I may not live to travel to space. It seemed so inevitable when I was 17. Not because I was going to be an astronaut--I'd never make it in the military--but because space travel was going to be more common. Why aren't people living on the moon by now? Why do we not hail Kim Stanley Robinson as prescient, in light of our terraforming efforts on Mars? Where have we been? Well, I suppose we've been the same place I've been. Working on this world, which is very large, and has many problems. There are crazy people in charge everywhere who make those problems worse. There are crazy people not in charge--thrashing and breeding and hurting each other. Sometimes I understand it so little I wonder if I'm human myself. Sometimes I wish I weren't. I fantasize about fixing the world, so the world can pursue its dreams. But really, I fantasize about fixing the world so it can pursue my dreams. My dreams are good! C'mon, world. C'mon.
~~ | Cat Connor | 13 Aug, 2007 |
Sunday, 12 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 12 Aug, 2007 |
Saturday, 11 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 11 Aug, 2007 |
Friday, 10 August
Don't you love how I post these long, personal screeds when things are going a little badly, so all my friends think I'm in terrible shape? I'm not. Doing mucho better the last few days, and having a pretty good time. I am writing a seminar for work right now on time and stress management (hey! don't laugh!), based on a lifetime of study, and a whopping dollop of David Allen. Wish we could afford David Allen. Ah well, I have more to cover than that anyway, and I have to work things in so it all fits and is entertaining and engaging and...you get the idea. I love this stuff. As people-phobic as I can be, performing (and teaching is performing) doesn't bother me. I love writing the script, putting together the images and exercises, pacing everything out, rehearsing, and presenting. My perfect job is half teaching and half coding. And in fact, that's the job I've spent the last 10 years molding where I am, and I'm just about there. Dangit, I forgot my vanilla candles. I had an idea that when I'm feeling good, I can mainline a distinctive scent, so I have a sensory trigger to use when I'm not so great. I decided on vanilla, because, yum! But dangit, I left my vanilla stuff at home. Maybe I should go to Williams Sonoma for lunch and get the good stuff. And, after several produce deliveries rotted, I have finally found the time and energy to cook again. Made a bitchin' veggie loaf last night. Cooked it forever, so it would get nice and crusty. The crusty bits are the best. I've been thinking about reviving my Crush section. Heck, I don't even think I have a link to it anymore. And it's all broken. And I keep saying "I want to revive X", but do I? Nah. But I was thinking about it, because the Spousal Unit and I are watching Stargate SG-1, and we each have our own little crush. I was going to put them both up. But since I have better things to do, I shall probably not get around to it. To make up for this terrible oversight, here's some Teryl Rothery for the SU: 
~Enough about me...~ | Cat Connor | 10 Aug, 2007 |
Thursday, 09 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 09 Aug, 2007 |
Wednesday, 08 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 08 Aug, 2007 |
Tuesday, 07 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 07 Aug, 2007 |
Monday, 06 August
Lookit me! I'm bloggin'! Don't worry, dear overwhelmed readers, it won't last. I was just thinking about birthdays. There are very few I remember without prompting from my calendar: Bill (June 3--and sometimes I have trouble with this one) Some I can sort-of remember: My sister, on either May 21 or 24. Some birthdays I think I remember, but I hold off until my calendar reminds me, because I'm always wrong: John, January? June? *sigh* So what brought this to mind? I always remember Marlene's birthday. Marlene was an "honorary aunt", my mother's best friend for many years. She took care of Mom during her last months, and I'm forever grateful to her for that. Marlene and I have never gotten along--just personality issues, and all on my side. I know she's a good person. We care about each other. But we haven't spoken in many years, because she just makes my brain hurt. But I do think about her. So, Marlene: happy birthday. I do love you, even if I don't show it.
~Enough about me...~ | Cat Connor | 06 Aug, 2007 |
So, an update from this. Yeah...not so great. The Ritalin worked for a time, but was overwhelmed by a depressive episode. Yay! So many drugs, so little time. Also, it had the somewhat disturbing side-effect of making me love everything. I'd get this sudden sweep of well-being when the drug kicked in. Yeah, it was nice. Yeah, I'd go back to that, if it helped me concentrate. Maybe I do need to go back now that my mood is under better control. I don't know. It's really confusing, and hard to focus on. Right now I'm on Dexadrine, but this dosage isn't helping me concentrate. Know what happens when I can't concentrate? Can't work. And what's next? Depression, oh yeah. I get so frustrated! Since I was diagnosed, it's almost worse, because I feel like there's hope--there's something out there that will help, but it seems to be just beyond my reach. It's killing me, because other than this blockage crap, I have a pretty good handle on my depression. Sure, there are stresses and triggers and such, but they aren't that common, and I can see them coming and bounce back. But the ADD-caused blockage--where I can't do anything--my mind just slips sideways--that is far, far too common. And it squashes me like a bug. Goddammit. Ah, but that's not even the highly personal crap I came here to write about today. I'm in a rambly mood. The thing I was just thinking about (for those few, precious minutes I could hold it in my flippin' mind) was Big Interests, and how they go away. Remember my bento kick? I loved making bentos! I even converted some friends. I had decided that I'd been interested long enough to maybe even write a book about creating bento for American tastes. I collected just enough boxes to make the photography interesting, and started learning about how to photograph food. I started building recipes. Then I stopped. My lovely boxes are collecting dust. At least I still use the photography lights, and that study has helped me take pretty good photographs of other projects. Most recently, my pottery died. I had been taking classes since January, and having a great time. Then there was a two-week break, and I started on a hand-building class, instead of the wheel-throwing I'd been doing. Possibly, there was Blogathon stress in there as well, as I found I had to skip classes to work on it. But when it came time to go back...I couldn't. I was utterly uninterested. And I thought this was it--I subscribed to a couple magazines, and looked forward to making dishes and vases and gifts for friends. Maybe it was hand-building. I hate coiling. I don't know. I just know that, for now, it's gone, and it hurts. I've done this with so very many things. So many ideas, so many books I wanted to write, so much art I wanted to build. All gone, with the fickleness of my fucking disease. If I can even blame ADD--though inability to maintain interest in things is a common symptom. I learned to cope with this in my craft room. I just do whatever I want, whenever I want. I buy supplies I am interested, and play. No beating myself up, even if I don't set foot in the craft room at all for weeks. Even if all I do is organize my stamps, well, that's fine. I even cope pretty well when it comes to Blogathon. The Spousal Unit says I'm better at sticking with things when others are depending upon me, and he may be right. I still have my seasonal frenzy of interest in Halloween, graveyards, Christmas stuff, organizing, frugality. It comes and goes. I'm hoping that it will all come and go, as I get better. I hope I'll make another bento someday.
~Enough about me...~ | Cat Connor | 06 Aug, 2007 |
Okay, here's a goal: next year, the Blogathon will not make scorched-earth of my life. I have a great think-tank in place with some wonderful minds, and we are trying to make this year-round, small work. At least I am. I want to spend a few hours a week digging in, and the rest elsewhere. Like here, or Spookymoon, or making things, or whatever. Everything went straight to hell at the end of June, and I haven't quite crawled out yet. Nothing is even. Gah.
~Blogathon 2007~ | Cat Connor | 06 Aug, 2007 |
Friday, 03 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 03 Aug, 2007 |
Thursday, 02 August
~Links~ | Cat Connor | 02 Aug, 2007 |
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