creep-ass swan

It's thinking about murder RIGHT NOW.

After exhaustive research, I have come to the following conclusion: swans are creep-ass.

I think swans are physically weird. This is a totally personal bias based on me being terrified of geese as a small child. My preschool had a farm right next to it, and geese (and once, a cow) would sometimes escape into the school grounds. Those fuckers were mean and as tall as I was; no way in hell I was gonna get near them. Besides, one bit my teacher, and they don’t even have real teeth, just burning ire. So, I still don’t like long-necked birds of any kind; the way their necks go is creepy. There’s a specific deformity of the finger called the Swan’s Neck.

Other than being physically weird, birds are connected with the souls of the dead, which heads us into questionable territory. Specifically, stories with swans in them tend to take weird, weird turns.

First up: Swan Lake. Swan-obsessed magician makes beautiful girl into swan. Okay, fine. There’s an imprisonment and/or necrophilia metaphor going on there, whatever. (Really: in the ending variation where the princess in condemned to be a swan forever…isn’t that a kind of death?) But the prince? I know he fell in love with the Swan Queen when she turned back into a human. But I think he was a bit of a swan fancier to begin with. Suspicious.

Speaking of swan fanciers, Jove. As in the rehashed Greek Ovid’s Metamorphoses version of Zeus. Now, to begin with, he was a weird dude. He liked to have sex, willing or not, with more or less anything that moved. He had some very weird sex brags (“one time I fucked a pregnant chick so hard she set on fire”; “one time I seduced some hot girl in the form of a cow”). He was like a more heterosexual and less classy version of Jesse Canon from Tominda Adkin’s series Vessel. Anyway, Jove gets his eyes on this girl, Leda. He seduces her (the nice term for “rape”, usually) in the form of a swan, which is weird even by hentai standards. Then apparently they have kids, and some parody of a family life. Family life with birds. Like you do.

leda swan children

Doesn't she look sick of it all?

That brings us to my third piece of Swan Creepass evidence: the tale with many variations known as the Six Swans, the Twelve Brothers, and other titles. It’s about a girl whose brothers are turned into swans for various reasons (Dad wants her to inherit the kingdom; the bros are turned into swans to escape actual death). Her job is to rescue them; the condition is that she must not speak or laugh for seven years, and also make shirts for her brothers out of some odd or unpleasant material (nettles, starwort, depends who you ask). Usually she succeeds, often with the sleeve of one shirt unfinished, so that one brother is left with an arm and a wing for the rest of his life.

I was thinking about this during a workshop about metamorphosis at the Richard Hugo House, and I wrote the following:

 Every Sunday, Laura would go to the shore of the lake to look for her brothers.
The swans at the lake had innate enough trust of her to swin right up, hop out of the water, and eat the chunks of bread she provided them out of a large plastic bag with a twist tie. Sometimes there would be a jogger or a dog and the swans would get spooked and flap out into the vast expanse of water, but most times they’d be bold enough to steal a piece of break right out of her hand.
She bided her time with the nettle shirts. You have to make sure a wild animal really trusts you before trying to wrestle a shirt meant for a human onto it. Besides, making cloth out of dried nettle was hard. The hippies down at the co-op must think she drank more nettle tea than any of several gods. They never said anything, even on weeks when her hands were still red and blotchy with stings. Baking soda was her #2 co-op purchase.
The day came when she had to put the shirts on or give up, be alone forever. The day marked by a red square on her calendar. She took the usual bag of bread and a backpack filled with the nettle shirts. She waited for the swans to come gliding over the water. She scattered bread and opened the sipper to the pack slowly, so as not to startle the birds.
The movement was quick, when she finally dared to do it. Woven nettle held in sweaty fingers, unable to feel the stings any more, a twist of the wrists, up and over the long struggling feathered neck. Wings beating, wind rushing past her face, her eyes, blinding her so that she never saw exactly what happened, if there was some moment that was half feathers and half skin, but in any case she was suddenly holding in her arms Richard, her eldest brother, naked except for the knit shirt made of strung-together dried leaves.
He was gasping for breath with a desperate look in his eyes, muscles under his skin still pulling against her, trying to escape. She released him, tried to not to glance down at his nakedness, and looked into his yees. For a moment her heart dropped; he wasn’t making eye contact and was breathing hard. What if he was still a swan inside his head? What if she’d revived him only to lose him to shock or insanity? She should have brought blankets. She should have brought real clothes. Richard knelt by the edge of the water and threw up noisily. The other swans had scattered.

And so. Swans. The ever-present reminder of death with weird-ass necks.

black swan murder

See? Murder. Told you so.

Here is an erasure poem I did in my writing group a while ago. I found it while cleaning up paperwork on my desk. It came from an article about football. Football is not where it ended up. Here’s the text if I were to format it like a poem:

Every shudder of injury for the usual reasons

adds a third layer of dread.

Conjecture about his eventual return.

The when. The what-if. The where does that leave you know who.

This is the act we’ve reached now

the breaking collarbone, the absence, the relief

elevated him to legend

Dear Internet,

I went to Vermont! It was strategic.

For those of you who do not know and/or are too lazy to look two posts back where I talked about it, I am a candidate for a Master’s of Fine Arts in Writing at Goddard College in Plainfield, VT. This means once a semester I go to Vermont for a week for to absorb arcane teachings and amazing people. Actually, I mostly hang out with the people and talk about books and stuff…there’s less absorption going on than with the teachings.

ANYWAY. I have proof that I’m doing Master’s Level Work…and by that I mean the following very silly play I wrote during residency…

Sherwood

Scene: Two desks and chairs sit on the stage, facing each other, each in their own pool of light. Each has a laptop on the desk. On the left sits ROBIN HOOD, wearing a green jerkin, skin-tight green leggings, boots, and his signature pointed green hat. On the right sits the SHERIFF OF NOTTINGHAM, a portly man wearing an unbuttoned navy collared shirt with a white undershirt beneath. The SHERIFF has a beer in hand and is reading a Men’s Health with a stony expression. ROBIN clicks aimlessly at his computer.

ROBIN

Next…Hi there, hotness, where are you from…oh. Really. What monastery? Yeah, that’s a little weird. No, it’s not you, there was this thing that happened when I was a kid. With a priest. Next… Maid who? You want to show me what? Oh my god, ew. Blocked.

The SHERIFF sighs and turns to the computer screen. He clicks something open.

ROBIN

Next…

ROBIN

Oh my god! Sheriff! I didn’t know you did Chatroulette!

He immediately sits up straighter and leans in.

SHERIFF

(crosses arms) Mr. Hood. I didn’t know there was internet service in the forest.

ROBIN

You only assume I’m in the forest. (raises eyebrows saucily) No, really, though, we get wireless. You don’t have any fancy tracking software, do you? You’re not going to storm the compound, guns ablaze?

He seems oddly excited at the prospect. The SHERIFF stares.

SHERIFF

I’m off duty.

ROBIN

Oh. Interesting. And who is the Sheriff of Nottingham, off duty?

SHERIFF

Same as I am on duty.

ROBIN

So single-minded, over-vigilant, and vicious, then? But not in uniform, which is a little unfortunate, I must say. I like seeing that big old ring of keys at your belt. Keys to the kingdom, and all that.

SHERIFF

You think I’m vicious?

ROBIN

Oh, I know it. (Beat.) So, no Mrs. Of Nottingham?

The SHERIFF takes a swig off his beer.

SHERIFF

No.

ROBIN

That sounds like some hurt feelings, if I’m any judge.

 

SHERIFF

You’re not.

ROBIN

(sighs) So, have you figured out where my secret forest lair is yet?

SHERIFF

You think I’d be sitting on my ass at home if I had?

ROBIN

You know, Sheriff, we used to play such devious little games, and now it seems like you hardly have the time for me. We never have fun anymore.

SHERIFF

Huh. You sound like my wife.

ROBIN

I thought there was no Mrs. Notty.

SHERIFF

She left me six months back.

ROBIN

No! Bitch.

The SHERIFF swigs his beer again and shrugs.

SHERIFF

It is what it is.

ROBIN

You know, Sheriff, I’ve never told you this, but I admire you very much.

The SHERIFF is taken by surprise. His beer freezes mid-swig.

SHERIFF

You do?

ROBIN

Kind of awkward, I know, us being enemies and all. But you just have this… animal magnetism, know what I mean?

SHERIFF

Animal? What do you mean, animal?

ROBIN

Like you’re some sort of…badger. A sexy badger.

SHERIFF

That’s dumb. Badgers don’t do shit. I think of myself as more of a wolf.

ROBIN

I could get behind that. (Beat.)

SHERIFF

Just what are you after, Mr. Hood?

ROBIN

I keep thinking how…satisfying it would be to meet an old enemy on equal ground.

SHERIFF

What, you think you could take me or something?

ROBIN

You have no idea what I could do to you.

The SHERIFF is silent and looks away from the computer for a beat. When he speaks, it’s quiet and furtive.

SHERIFF

There’s a motel on the edge of the forest.

ROBIN

Be there in twenty. It’s a duel.

Lights down on desks. There’s a brief sound of animalistic noises in the darkness as the scene changes: grunting, panting, and howling. Lights up on a bed. ROBIN is sitting in bed, on top of the sheets, wearing only his tights and smoking a cigarette. The SHERIFF is cuddled up next to him, wearing only novelty heart boxer shorts. The rest of their clothes are scattered all over the room. Next to the bed, a side table is covered in an oversized key ring loaded with keys, an ashtray, and a pack of cigarettes.

ROBIN checks to see if the SHERIFF is really asleep. He is. ROBIN grins. He carefully slides out of bed, grabs his shirt and boots, dons his cap, and slowly picks up the keys. He tiptoes to the exit, then pauses, turning back.

ROBIN

Catch you later, darling.

He blows a kiss as the sleeping SHERIFF and then leaves.

The sound of a truck roars from offstage. The SHERIFF wakes and discovers that Robin has gone. He spots the lack of keys on the bedside table. He tugs at his hair and lets out a howl of fury. He storms around the room, kicking at the bed, tearing at the sheets, ripping at his clothing. Finally he settles on the edge of the mattress and looks at the cigarette butt in the ashtray. He picks it up and twists it wistfully between thumb and forefinger.

SHERIFF

God damn it, old man. You’re such a fool.

Blackout.

 

***

 

Yep. I am totally getting an advanced degree. And using it for good. :P

Cheers,

Anne

Ballard. Sunday. 4:08PM.

Dear Internet,

So I have some big plans for this year. Mayan calendar be damned.

I don’t really like New Year’s Resolutions. Mainly because they tend to be big grand things that sound like a brilliant idea at the time and on the morning of January 3rd you realize what horse-puckey you’ve come up with. No one can change all facets of their lives for the better simultaneously, nor instantaneously.

It’s like my car.

My car is an unholy filth-pit. I keep my house pretty darn clean, and while my desk piles up sometimes I do deal with the piles. There is not currently more than one stack of books on the floor anywhere in my house. (And if you saw the household I grew up in, you’d consider that an achievement.) But you’ve got to have at least one area where you don’t need to hold it together. I somewhat treasure my filthy car because it’s something I don’t feel the need to fix. I can reorder my day so that going to the gym actually happens, I can be vigilant about homework, the garden, the chores, paying attention to the other humans I care about….but my car can go right to hell. It’s a mess. I’m fine with that.

Anyway, there are a couple of plans I have for this year, in lieu of resolutions.

First!

I am going to indulge the little part of me that wants to learn html. It’s out of my usual wheelhouse, but I’m interested and damn it I am sick of trying to find a decent WordPress theme and would rather make one myself. Besides, Mikeatron said it would be hot if I knew HTML5. And clearly sex appeal is the main reason why one ups one’s computer skills, right? Right?

Second!

I am going to actually be vigilant in the garden this year and plant and/or harvest as close to year-round as possible. Gardening is something I am really excited about and often forget to do daily. Same goes with writing, I suppose.

Third!

I want to make delicious progress towards my thesis goals in grad school. It’s easy to consider this a “plan” when it’s already definitely happening, but still. I will be writing short stories. I will be writing comics. Hopefully, if all goes well, I will be at Emerald City ComicCon with my and Ben’s minicomic. We shall see.

Happy New Year,

Anne

Ballard, WA. Thursday. 10:30PM.

Dear Internet,

Major life news of the past unholy amount of time since I’ve updated:

 

College!

I am attending Goddard College, pursuing an MFA in writing. I am writing short stories, plus comic scripts. Comic scripts are both interesting and frustrating to write. For one thing, I am unsure of how much panel designation to write out and how much to leave to the artist. It’s something I’ll end up developing as a work with artists, I expect.

Speaking of, I’m working with this awesome dude to make a minicomic. I will report more later, and it will be awesome.

As a super-rad bonus, my prose short story “Iron Henry” will be appearing in this Spring’s Pitkin Review. You can pick up a copy of my and other rad writings from Goddard for a mere $12.

 

Podcast!

Trade Secrets is the podcast I contribute to! Hear me and some other geeks natter on about comics. It’s like Oprah’s book club, but for comics, and with a lot more dumb jokes.

If you’re not sure where to start, here are a couple of my favorites:

Ep. 3: Locke and Key by Joe Hill

Ep. 4: The Unwritten by Mike Carey

Ep. 19: Invincible by Robert Kirkman

Ep. 20: Adolf by Osamu Tezuka

 

That’s all for now! Stay tuned for actual updates. For reals.

Love,

Anne

*image credit Richard McCoy via http://www.universetoday.com

Here’s another excerpt from one of my Paradiso interviews. This one hits particularly close to home for me; I’ll let you know why at the end of the interview.

Early Life

I’ll start like Dickens: I was born. I was born in Dayton, Ohio. My first event that probably did influence my entire life happened when I was about 6 weeks old. My parents put me in a large double bed, and I was a very very strong baby at the time—unusually so. I was unhappy about the situation: I dug my heels into the bed, went over the side—at this point it was a very high double-bed, fractured my skull, and I was not expected to live through the night. I don’t know if it resulted in me being left-handed, but probably stuttering throughout childhood. I had my first-grade teacher tie my arm to my side in order to change me to the right-handedness, and that was very traumatic. I hated school. Especially 1st grade, and especially Miss Peacock, that was her name. I never forgot her. You know, it’s amazing how we never forget our terrible teachers. And she was kind of a short, dumpy woman with dyed red hair, you know, awful. And I had learned to read pretty early in my life, and she did not…it wasn’t according to her method, so… Oh, it was awful.

I was so bored, but things picked up throughout my school life, I guess. I was a shy child, backward socially because of the stutter. I overcame the stutter by going into drama in high school. I found that if I could pretend to be somebody else, I never stuttered. It was only when I had to represent myself, as in a book report, that I would stutter and get very very red, and shake just like a leaf, you know, just like that. But if I could be Mary in the Crucible, suddenly I could be just this whole different persona, and I never stuttered, and I could do monologues, everything. And that was a revelation to me. So when I, in my working life when I went into the computer field, the medical computer field, I helped develop an algorithm to detect heart arrhythmias, like for a bedside monitor and other heart equipment…I found that when I gave presentations, if I could just pretend to be somebody else and visualize, in my head, that I could speak before one person or a hundred people. It didn’t matter. I could not—and I still can’t, I have a hard time standing up in front of people representing myself. I always have to imagine somebody else or I start to stutter. And it still comes out when I am either very angry and can’t get the words out—if they come out, they stutter—or if I’m very tired. But that was probably the thing that influenced the stuttering.

I followed several directions in my life. I became much more introverted than I already was, um, and writing. You don’t stutter when you write, you know, so I figured that’s what someday I will do. And it was a long, circuitous route before I actually became a writer. You know, I’ve always written throughout my life, but before I became a published, recognized writer. I even have a fan club. So…but…um, I guess that’s probably the short and sweet of it.

Marriage

I married when I was twenty-three years old. I was married for 33 years before getting divorced in 2003. And then packed up my stuff, the most important things, and headed from Spokane to Little River, CA, which is south of Mendocino, which is on the coast of Northern California. I wrote for about a year, and then met my current husband online, corresponded. That’s really a different way to meet people, but that’s what’s happening now. You just have to be really careful, because people can be anything they want. He was real consistent in his emails—how he wrote, that’s what I watched for. Any inconsistencies, you know, that like covering up a lie, or something that was said two weeks ago and I didn’t remember…I saved all of that and would compare. I was really very, very careful that way. So we got married, and it’s been less than two years now. Our second wedding anniversary will be November 8th. And it turned out that we got married at a very magical time. How we got married—in Mendocino. And at that time, heaven aligned, there was a full moon, there was, um, I don’t know if it was Jupiter or Mars that lined up, but it was a very rare astrological event. And then on top of everything there was a wonderful storm off the coast of Mendocino. Lightning, thunder, lots of drama. And it was just fantastic. If I were in Scotland or Ireland at the time…you know, it felt like I should be at one of the standing stones or that something significant was really happening. I mean, it was—we got married.

Listening and transcribing these tapes is a trip, I tell you what. For one thing, one of the wonderful people whom I interviewed is now dead of cancer, which is a sobering thought.

For another, listening to myself at age twenty is fascinating. Six years ago, the summer I got the grant to do the Dante project, I was in a very strange place, literally and figuratively. I was living, squatting really, in one of the very few apartments that Evergreen, Colorado had to offer. That was part of the deal: I wanted to write and also not live with my parents. It was important to me to be independent like that. I needed to feel like an adult, and not living with my parents was tops for feeling like that. Somehow the situation also turned into an ill-advised cohabitation with my boyfriend at the time. So I lived in a little apartment, and paid all the rent. And I wasn’t happy there. I was grappling with emotions way bigger than me about the relationship I was in, my future, and my own relationship with my work.

It’s not like you can tell all of that from my questions on the tape. But the way I phrase them is still interesting. I don’t know what to make of it. For the purposes of this transcription, I left them out, mostly because I wanted to make each person’s story feel like a streamlined flow. But in the long run, I think my own hesitant narratorial voice is important. Here’s an example:

How did you get [to your current job]? Especially like as an about to graduate college and have no idea what I’m doing with my life sort of person, I wonder what sort of jobs people go through on their way to whatever they may end up in.

or

The next question is…I’m just interested to see how people will react to this, because being as I’m using these interviews as part of the third segment, the Paradiso segment…what, if anything, does the concept of Paradise mean to you, in terms of being in the place you want to be, or whatever other reaction to the word Paradise you might have.

I sound both confident and hesitant, if that’s possible. I think that’s what being twenty is about, really. Confidence about being an adult, hesitance and worry that there’s something you’re missing out there. I hope I’m more confident these days.

Since I couldn’t straight up ask the question at age twenty, I’ll ask my readers now: What does Paradise mean to you?

Part Three: Paradise

I think paradise can be inside or outside or a combination. I think that when you find your soul place to be, where you belong, when you’re…I think there’s probably degrees of it. When you find peace inside yourself, when you happen to be surrounded by people who you love and who love you, that’s Paradise. It’s paradise whether it’s a shack in Mexico, or a mansion. I think ****** is a bit of a Paradise.

There’s some places that I’ve been to in my life like Citra, Portugal, where the air just is spiritual. There’s something spiritual about it. Italy is another place. Jerusalem in another place. All of those are places where I could spend time. There’s a town, Sienna, that I’ve never seen, that I’ve heard I’ve gotta go see, in Tuscany. The pictures just look like paradise to me, on Earth. There’s places that aesthetically I just feel so…pleased. To stand in them. To walk in them.

I grew up in New York, I never felt that about New York and I got out of New York as quickly as I could and never, ever went back, not even for a summer. New York is not my paradise. It is some people’s paradise, but it is not mine. There’s places outside of New York that are quite beautiful, but living in the city… I like  visiting there now.

So I think that Paradise has more to do with your soul and your comfort zone, if I can use that hackneyed term, but where you are inside yourself and who’s around you and how you allow them to treat you…since separating I feel much more at peace and that this is a Paradise, for now, than I felt when there was someone in my home who I wanted something from I wasn’t able to get. And I wasn’t able to get because he wasn’t able to give. And it took me a long time to get to that because he could give it for a while. But then I always kept seeing he withdrew it, and it felt like he consciously withdrew it, like I was being punished. And I have come to realize that that’s not what it was. He’s not really that mean. He truly gave as much as he could, and yet he was depleted and he didn’t know how to get more, he wasn’t able to take from me. To replete himself, to energize himself, and he would just withdraw and withdraw and withdraw and it would take a while for me to convince him that he was withdrawing and to come back. And it was just too draining over the twenty years to do that every six months to a year. And so I feel much more energized just by the energy around me, and by not giving so much of my day to…people.

Part Two: Success

At twenty…oh god. At twenty, success meant that I could make it through the month on my budget of $150 and I wasn’t hungry. That’s what success was then. Budget was $150, it started at $120 and went up to $150 a month, for everything. For rent, food books, entertainment, you name it. It was a time in my life when I couldn’t even go to the dollar film on campus without a major debate. I used to eat beans five days in a row. I was putting myself through college, so it was a rough time financially.

Success meant that I was doing well at school, I mean it was just so exciting to find that I was smart. With my glasses, learning I could do well, I mean it was such a change from how I’d ever seen myself. It was really, really a nice time for me. I was really excited. I was involved in the women’s movement, trying to figure out what it meant to me. And success at that point too meant I was going to be financially independent, that I was never gonna have to beg for another $20 from Mom. That was also success. I was not gonna get tied down until I had my career firmly established and I never had to ask for money. That was really important to me.

I didn’t have a lavish lifestyle in mind, ‘cause I always enjoyed going to the thrift shop, and I still do to this day, going on a scavenger hunt for what I might like. You sometimes come out empty-handed, you sometimes come out with someone else’s treasures. So I’ve always enjoyed that aspect of success was going on a fun trip to St. Vinny dePaul’s or Goodwill on a Saturday when I spent two dollars and ended up coming out with treasures. So, success at that point was just continuing to learn and be financially independent person.

You know, in some ways the concept of success really hasn’t changed much over the years. I’ve added in that my goal in life is to be thought of as a mench. It’s a Yiddish word that used to primarily be geared towards men. A man was thought of as mench if he was a good person, if he was someone who you could turn to, if he was someone who was trustworthy and had integrity. I made up a word somewhere along the line—I got stoned many many years ago, I used to do that—called integrituitous that I wanted to live my life so that someone could look at it and say that I, I just displayed integrity and I had an integrituitous life. And also to have love in my life. To be a loving person and to be loved and to have people in my life who are loved and appreciated. That’s what success has meant.

…I happen to live in a house right now that’s bigger than my wildest dreams ever ever were, and we got that by moving from California, where we had an 1100  square foot house, two bedrooms, one bath, and we could not move out. It was on a lovely plot of land, a third of an acre… to here, where our house here was less expensive than our house there but it’s 3400 square feet. So I have my own office at home, which brings me back to twenty. I probably read A Room of One’s Own by Virginia Woolf when I was about twenty for the first time. I reread it in the last couple of years and found out that it was different than I thought it was. I thought she said—my memory serves me—that every woman should have a room of her own. And she was just talking about a writer, or an artist. But I truly generalized that, and I have always wanted a room of my own, and actually have always had, not always but since I was in Ann Arbor, which was …when I was about 27, I’ve always had not just my bedroom—sometimes I share my bedroom with a man, but I’ve always had another room that was mine. And I’ve really cherished that, it’s been really important to me.  Until I had our son, I did have a room that was my own. When we had two-bedroom houses, it was kind of known, because I wrote, that would be my office. My husband just understood. Until we had our baby, and then there wasn’t any room, and then my office became parts of the den, parts of the living room, so that he could have his own room. There were those three years…

In terms of how my attitudes towards relationships have changed…I’m not willing now to accept some things that I had in the past. I realized that one of the things I made a mistake in my marriage, this process of ending, is after twenty years, something I gave a really good try. The realization for me is that I am very, very strong, and that somewhere along the twenty years, and I have to say we’ve had good years and he’s a good man, but…he’s very passive. And somewhere along the line what I realized I crossed over the line and that I didn’t realize I was doing it…was something around “yes I can handle it, but I shouldn’t.”

And that was because I’m so strong and because I’m so independent and I really don’t need a lot. Although I’m finding that without him in the house I’m much more relaxed and free and have enormously more energy in a different, non-hyper way than I had when he was there and I was being drained by trying to get something from someone who wasn’t capable of giving it. And so I’ve really learned more…I think my overriding philosophy for my own mental health from here is the how of AA applied to myself and relationships: the honesty, openness, willingness… I really need to keep honest about what’s happening around me and what I’m getting, and to be open to look at what is instead of what I want it to be and willing to make the necessary changes if what is isn’t what I want it to be.

In my 20s I was desperately seeking a mate. Desperately went from relationship to relationship, sometimes overlapped. Had very little in between relationships, could not handle being alone. Um, and now my husband moved out in mid-January and I love it! I have not had a lonely night. I have not had a lonely day. I have not had a date and not spent any time with a man. I have some good women friends, I have myself, I have reorganized my house, I am moving forward on my book that he discouraged me from the last few years is all kinds of really exciting things happening. I’m working out in a different way than I’ve ever worked out. I’m doing things for me. And I’m enjoying that a lot. But I’m not lonely. I’m not desperate. It’s really…it’s such a nice place to be at, versus single in my 20s, when there was truly a desperation and a dissatisfaction with an evening spent by myself. I just didn’t like it. Maybe I could handle one, but sure as hell didn’t want to stretch—you know, put two or three together. God forbid! I mean, and God forbid I should go out and eat and what would they think of me eating by myself? I mean, I can do any of that. You know, I went to a music festival by myself. I had a blast! I wanted to go, and some of the time women friends were there with me, but I bought the ticket on my own and I might go by myself, but I was not gonna miss it again, and I went for it. And I had a blast! And it was just—it was not only a blast doing it, it was a blast recognizing that I couldn’t have done that at a different point in my life. And here I could and I was really proud of myself for the change and I was pleased to have gotten here.

And there were other empowering things. At 27 I packed up everything that I owned, put it in storage, got in my car, moved from Michigan where I had a phenomenal job, had just written a couple of grants that got funded, would have been starting this institute on aging in Detroit, and hated my boss, hated the environment, hated Michigan, and I just said, I gotta get the hell out of here. And I moved out to California, without any leads on a job, without anything except I knew two people in the Bay Area. I had done some research on some places where I wanted to live, decided to go to the Bay Area, quit my job, moved out there, put my stuff in storage, and a couple of months later brought my stuff out…but I didn’t have a job and I didn’t have a job for nine months. I just had a settlement on a car accident so I had enough to live on very very frugally, but I was used to living frugally so that was a hot issue for me. And all my friends kept saying “Oh, God, that takes such courage, oh my God you’re so brave”—I didn’t see it as brave, I saw it as something I needed to do because I was unhappy with where I was and I wasn’t gonna stay. And that’s another thing in my life, that once I realize I’m unhappy, I don’t stay there. I don’t stay there.

But what I learned in my marriage is that I can be unhappy in a more insidious way and not know it, and deal with it. And the other thing about staying as long as I did was—I had contemplated many times leaving. But I was not willing, when my son was seven, and eight, and ten, and twelve, I was not willing to lose him at the time. And that his dad would want as much time as me. And I wasn’t willing to lose him, and so I couldn’t leave, and it wasn’t bad enough yet to leave. He’s fifteen…

I realized that I felt like I would get sick if I stayed, that I was taking too much. Plus we had been in counseling last year and I had drawn some very clear boundaries. And through the fall he had broken every single one of them. And when he broke the last one, the decision was made. He made the decision by breaking the last boundary, so when I found out he had broken it, ‘cause he lied to me…there was no question in my mind that I had to say “excuse me, I need to think this over while we separate.”

It was not difficult. At that point, it was so damn clear. I had known it the year before, when we were in therapy and were doing a last-ditch attempt, and he had done some stuff that was absolutely unacceptable to me, and I had outlined it in therapy in front of another person. She had said “what do you need for this marriage to work? What do you need, each one of you?” And I outlined it, I said, “If these are broken, this isn’t happening. I’m not willing to do another go-round of our cycle together. I’m not. Just that no is my last thing, I don’t have another go-round in me.” And I truly meant it, and she knew I meant it. She did. So when he broke it—you know, the final one, he lied to me about it, and then I caught the lie. The decision had been made the year before.

It was not hard at that point, at all. What I said to myself that night was that if I have any self-respect, the decision has been made for me. He made his choices, now it was my turn to make my choices and to live up to what I said I needed. And I knew I needed. I needed a certain amount of honor and respect in my life, in other words someone who can honor and respect my bottom-line boundaries when they’ve agreed to, and said it’s not too much to ask. …Then how could I disrespect myself enough to allow him to do that? Since then, I haven’t had one shoulda woulda coulda. Not one. Because I did a hell of a lot of work in that relationship. And uh, I haven’t had one look back. You missed out, you could’ve… He is a nice guy for someone else.

I don’t know [where I see myself going from here]. I know it’s going to get better. I am looking forward to, when my child is ready, moving out of what has been the family house and getting a fixer-upper and fixing up a house. I’m really looking forward to that project. And I love decorating, I like color, I like patterns, and I’m really looking forward to not just a room of my own, but a home of my own. Uh, and I really like that idea. It may be after he leaves for college, and I don’t know, you know, I always thought I’d stay in Evergreen. And I don’t know if I’ll stay in Evergreen. To me, the world’s an oyster. I like Portugal, I like Israel, I like Spain. I like a lot of places that I’ve seen that I hear I might like…I’d like to travel more and see where I want to be.

If this book thing goes, and if I get to write sequels, and I get to do more training, and I’m less in the office, and I’m more around the world or around the country…who knows? But I am so open to the possibilities of what may happen. You know, I’ve always been open to it—things the universe presented me, and, and I feel very very open to that. Because once my son’s out of high school and college, I’m not tied to anything or anybody, and if that continues, I can do anything—I can just follow dreams wherever they take me. And I’ve never been afraid of change or reassessing, and saying, Well, this didn’t work, let’s try this. Not in a manic way, but just what’s life presented, and so for me right now, because I’m so much more comfortable in my body, I can do whatever I want to do. So it’s like…it’s awesome. I have no idea. But it’s gonna be good and when it’s not good, I’m gonna change it.

And I think the other thing, someone said to me once when I was considering a job and I wasn’t sure that I would take it was, “Would you like this job for now? Don’t look at it as the job for the next 20 or 30 years. Do you want it for now? They don’t give out the gold watches too often any more for 30 years of services to a company. So if you would like it now and for a while and until it doesn’t feel comfortable anymore, and you can leave and you know go on to something else without leaving it in the lurch, be responsible, but don’t think of this as the next 30 years of your life.” And that was a really nice philosophy….I did that really with everything except when I got married. When I got married I got married to stay married and tried damn hard to stay married, which is why it lasted 20 years. But…everything else I do until I’m ready to do something else. Now, it’s been years on each thing, I don’t flip every three months or six months…

That’s how I was as a kid, too, and that’s how my parents thought I was the retarded one and my sister was the smart one. Things that kids do, like lanyards and things…I  would make two, three, five potholders, and I was ready for something else. My sister would make a hundred potholders, or whatever we did. I did it until I felt like I had mastered it enough for me, and then I moved on to something else. And I wanted to learn something else, do something else. And it was always around my sense that I had mastered it, or gotten enough out of it. I think in some ways I’ve brought that with me. I think that’s why I liked my PhD so much: I got to learn about womb to tomb education, and it had that whole idea, that you want to always be learning, to exercise your brain and your soul. And then spirituality came in…it’s fun to look at the world and your life as a continuingly blossoming flower or thing that will just keep going to the next stage and you won’t have to be afraid of it.

I am fifty-two years old—not sure how I got here. I am a therapist, and I also write, and I also do a lot of work for the courts as a special advocate, as a clinical evaluator, as a collaborative law divorce coach, as a child specialist.

I think I got my earliest training at the kitchen table, as my mother tended to have friends, a number of friends, really close friends, who tended to be widowed or divorced back in a time period when not many people were widowed or divorced, and she was their shoulder to talk to. And I was allowed, probably inappropriately so for my age, to sit at the table and listen if I was quiet and didn’t participate. So I learned how to listen, and I heard what my mom said to them to try to make them feel better.

It was a political time when I was in high school in the late 60s—and I did a lot of volunteer work. I worked at a fabulous place for someone who still had to commute by bus; it was special needs kids, who were severely profoundly emotionally disturbed, brain-damaged, and mentally retarded. They were approved by how they could function versus their age, so we had kids in our group from four to ten, because they were nonverbal. And every place I volunteered I loved the work, event though it was a little different at each place. And I asked people “what do you do to get paid to do this?” because it was so much fun working with these kids, these handicapped kids all over that, in a lower income kind of a community, grassroots stuff. Every place that I asked what degree do you need to do this to get paid they said social work. So I knew, I absolutely knew going in for my Bachelor’s that I was going for a Master’s Degree in Social Work. I didn’t know that I was going for a PhD. But I absolutely knew what I wanted to do. I wanted to spend my life working with brain-damaged kids, which is not what I have done. But that’s what I knew I was going to do going into college.

I think the switch happened with exposure to new things. And I started off my first field placement with emotionally disturbed/brain-damaged kids, and found out there that the master’s degree in social work people were low people on the totem pole…so it was there that I decided that I should go on to a higher degree if I could.

The other piece for me was that I got glasses right as I entered college. I had not done well in high school. All my friends were very bright, and I could certainly hold my own with them a discussion, but because of some things in my own family dynamic I didn’t have much confidence in my intellectual ability or capability. And when I got glasses, the first weekend that I got glasses, which allowed me to see easily, I had no idea it could be so easy to read. In one weekend I read two Herman Hesse novels, Narcissus and Golmund and Demien. Just could not believe that you could put these things on your face and zip through a sentence without the words jumping around and glaring out at you and making you dizzy and stuff, I mean, it was just a miracle to me. It was really nothing short of a miracle, and my first semester in college I got a 3.75 and to this day I do not know who was more surprised: me, my sister, or my parents, because I was the dumb one and my sister was the bright one, so it really screwed with my family dynamic.

But in any event, my second field placement was working in a variety of settings as a behavioral therapist and then I got introduced to this phenomenal doctor over in psychiatry. He worked with families. And one of the aspects of working with the retarded kids I used to love was the contact with the families, the families also had no concept that their kids could be learning because they had been told that they had the mental capacities of 21, 22 months, and when you work one to one with a kid like that and you don’t think that’s their end goal, you got a lot more.

I really liked the idea of bringing families in, and so I started going into family work in all aspects, and then I went into aging. I think I always had a flexibility about me, so once I learn a lot about something or do very well at it, I’m ready to learn something else. So I have always used my social work background, but I have done different populations over the years. I worked with kids, I worked with families, then I worked in aging and lifespan education. I taught at a university, then I went into substance abuse. I got into substance abuse because I was in San Francisco when I was down to my last $500 and if I didn’t get a job I didn’t know what I was going to do. Um, and I was offered a job at the Haight-Asbury detox clinic through a series of things and I said yes because I truly had no other choice. And then I was in substance abuse for twelve years.

And then I moved here and I did a series of things, I started writing parenting and family columns for the newspaper, so my practice here became much more general. Someone left town, I was doing her divorce work, I found it fascinating, I kind of always wanted to be a lawyer, but I didn’t have the confidence to, when I was young, to apply to law school. When she moved out of town, I moved in to that area. So it’s just things that have presented itself and have seemed interesting that I pursued, and I’ve been lucky enough, or privileged enough, or something to be successful. I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t do well that I moved up; I did really well and I got a reputation and I gave papers at national conferences, and then something else presented itself and I switched gears a little, taking what I had learned and expanding on it. I’m always challenged and gratified with new experiences and new learning.