A disclaimer of sorts for you, dear blog reader:
I’m trying to emerge from somewhat of a funk this Sunday, caught up in a maelstrom of frustration and disappointment. In the scheme of things – and especially, compared to some of the life-changing, truly serious major issues some of you reading this are dealing with – my crap is petty, indeed.
I’ve reached that point of the winter where I am beyond annoyed at the weather. I mean, I just hate it. If we’re being honest, I’ve been at that point since sometime before Christmas. (Again, here in Pittsburgh – which is more like Pittsbrrrrrrrrrrrgh, with wind chills as low as -26 degrees today – we certainly don’t have things as bad as other places but it is making me miserable.) I haven’t even bothered shoveling the driveway anymore with these pesky 1-2″ of snowfalls every day. What’s the point?
Fueling all this is the fact that I was scheduled to audition for Listen to Your Mother yesterday afternoon. From my living room window, most of the day the weather looked like this:
I drove to work in a surprise snow squall last month and it is not an experience I care to repeat. So, I decided to …well, actually listen to my mother’s voice (and my own) in my head and be better safe than sorry and forego my audition slot. Of course, since this was just an audition, there was no guarantee that I would actually be cast in this show, but I’m annoyed at the weather (as irrational as that sounds) for fucking this up. I’m trying to look at this as this wasn’t meant to be this year, for whatever reason, and that there will be other opportunities for this essay to be improved upon and to find its right home.
As with most things, we move on.
For a bit of literary salve in all this, last night I started Letters to a Young Poet by Rainer Maria Rilke. This is one of those books that is on my “I-really-should-read-this-someday” list that I somehow never get around to reading – except, in this case, I saw it at the library a few weeks ago and picked it up.
It’s helping to lift my mood. So is the sun streaming through the window this afternoon. Letters to a Young Poet is short enough to read in one sitting, although I’m going to need two. It turned out to be a good Valentine’s Day read, too. What’s surprising to me about this is that it delves into more than just writing. It’s very introspective, providing much to reflect on regarding solitude and love and more.
This week I finished listening to the audio of The Good Lord Bird by James McBride. You can’t go wrong with either the print version or the audio book, but I can tell you that Michael Boatman’s narration is fantastic. He really brings to life these characters, especially abolitionist and religious zealot John Brown as well as 12-year-old Henry Shackleford, who pretends to be a girl named Henrietta during the three years that Brown and his men fight slavery, give speeches, and prepare to raid the arsenal at Harper’s Ferry.
I’m a little behind on the #WomensLives project, but hoping to get back on track this week, both in reading all the stories as well as writing some posts in response. In the meantime, these stories resonated with me this Valentine’s Day weekend and I wanted to share them here:
- In Pakistan, women can still be sent to prison for choosing who they love.
- Here’s the YouTube clip of One Billion Rising Against Justice about the Valentine’s Day One Billion Rising campaign that will host events in more than 200 countries promoting the end of rape and sexual violence against women. The campaign highlights the startling statistic that one in every three women on the planet will be raped or beaten in her lifetime — over one billion women.
Before reading these, I was being a bit snarky on Facebook last night about Valentine’s Day – specifically, the half-assed dinner that I was preparing.
I mean, we didn’t do a damn thing for Valentine’s Day. We might have wished each other a Happy Valentine’s Day but other than that? No cards, no flowers, no gifts, nothing. In my cranky state, I may have even tried to pick a fight with The Husband – on Valentine’s Day, yo – about how he wasn’t being more sensitive to my disappointment over the audition.
But, there’s something to be said for being together, safe and warm in a comfortable house. I’m not going to jail for loving (still, after nearly 22 years) my funny Valentine who treats me pretty damn good. All reasons to keep everything else in its proper perspective.
(However, I’m still hibernating with my books and laptop today. Not because I’m wallowing in my funk but because it still feels like -19 and there’s nothing to be grateful for about that.)