On Spending My Birthday in the ER and then Wondering What the Hell is Up with Being Thirty-X, Anyway May 26, 2012
Posted by EDW in Books and Writing, Life, Musings.Tags: aging, birthday, crappiness, depression, Escargot, failure, health, hospital, Life, MFA program, success, the thirties, thirty-x, writing
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Last week my thirty-xth birthday happened. I’d planned to spend the evening swilling wine and slurping buttery escargots with a mound of friends and then hearing Kevin Lovejoy tickle the ivories. Instead, I spent my birthday in the ER.
Yeah. It was the crappiest birthday ever. I mean . . . let’s hope, right?
I don’t actually want to talk about it in detail, not because it’s depressing or traumatic (though it is), but because talking about my health problems is such an old person thing to do, and holy shit, I’m thirty-x. How did that happen? Thirty-x? Just last year I was thirty-w, which did not sound at all old. Thirty-w sounded fun and care-free and flirty. It sounded like a little too much wine and and like someone who might have a daub of glitter on her chin.
But thirty-x? Thirty-x sounds like frown lines. Thirty-x sounds like gluten-free bake sales and a mortgage payment (which I don’t have) and crepe-y inner elbow skin (which I kind-of do). Thirty-x sounds like having to buy a new roof, it sounds like sensible shoes and vitamin supplements. In short, it sounds like no fun at all. And that’s exactly how it started out: a mega-bad time in the hospital, alternately puking my brains out and shivering as ice-cold chemicals trickled into my veins while some geez in the room next door harfed up a bucket of phlegm every twelve seconds. And let me tell you folks, those chemicals they were giving me in no way made up for the escargots. People always make jokes about how good the hospital drugs are, but they are nothing compared to a bottle of really good wine and something soaked in butter. Period. (more…)
Nothing to Hide, Part III March 14, 2010
Posted by EDW in Life, Musings.Tags: beauty, fashion, Lent, make-up, naked face, punk rock costume party, punk-rock makeup, self-esteem
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You probably remember my resolution to stop wearing makeup for Lent, and the mixed feelings I’ve had about it. (If not, you can catch up here and here.) Last time I blogged about it, I mentioned that I was planning to attend a 1980s punk-rock themed costume party and wondered if I should cheat a little and wear makeup for that, just to be a part of the festivities. In the end, I decided that it was okay; the makeup was part of the costume and I didn’t, after all, give up costumes for Lent. (Because that would be impossible.) I wasn’t wearing the makeup to “look better”, I was wearing it to look authentic. After all the work I put into my outfit, it just seemed half-ass not to go all the way with it.
Here’s a picture of me wearing my very bad-ass punk rock costume. That guy is my (infinitely-cooler-than-me) brother. It was his birthday. He is not wearing one of those tattoo shirts under his other shirt. Those lovely tats are very real. 
But then again, so is this lovely underarm hair.
Anyway, it felt weird to be wearing makeup again after an extended period of naked faced-ness. In a way it helped me resolve some of the feelings that I mentioned when I last blogged on this experience. Before, I felt like I hadn’t learned or overcome anything and that the experiment was kind of pointless because my appreciation for my actual appearance hadn’t deepened. But last night on the way home from the party, I could not WAIT to get that makeup OFF my FACE. It wasn’t so much about the way it made me look as the way it felt on my skin. My eyes were irritated, and my skin felt a little smothered.
I remember when I started wearing makeup, in the eighth grade. My first tube of mascara was turquoise green. I wore that green mascara every single day, no matter what. I remember a boy named Brian one day asked me why my eyelashes were green, and I rolled my eyes at him and said, “They’re teal, Brian. And it looks cool. Duh!” But no matter how cool I felt in that green mascara, I wound up picking it off my eyelashes before the day was over. Every single time. It was partly because school was boring and I have a weird compulsion to pick at stuff- peeling paint, dried mud, sunburns, whatever– a manicure only lasts about 12 hours with me. But also, my eyes just always felt better without all that goop on them.
This morning afternoon I woke up and staggered into the bathroom to brush my teeth. When I looked into the mirror, something miraculous happened. I thought, Hey, I look pretty good. Which is weird since I stayed up late, went to bed with wet hair, and was wearing an old t-shirt. Maybe I’m just used to it. But it felt good to think that. Here’s how I looked:
I can’t say I’ll give up makeup for good. After all, I like to dress up, and I like to dress according to a theme (like 194os girl, or 1970s hooker, or Las-Vegas-trailer-park). I really, really like face paint. But I think I will definitely feel more confident about myself without it, when the theme is just Me.
Here’s an only-tangentially related question of the day. Which is worse: being the person who comes to a costume party without a costume, or being the only person in a costume at a regular party?
Nothing to Hide, Part II March 8, 2010
Posted by EDW in Books and Writing, Musings.Tags: beauty, Culture, Lent, makeup, Miss America, Thoughts, writing
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Yours Truly, sans makeup
So, you might remember that for Lent I decided to give up wearing makeup and also to write every day. So far, it hasn’t been too bad, although I may as well admit that haven’t written every day. It’s hard, folks. Really, really hard. I have a problem with self-discipline, see. Especially when I spend all day copy-editing (technical, dryish) manuscripts, which is how I generate el dinero. Pretty much the last thing I want to do is sit back down in front of the computer for another hour or two. Also, I haven’t been particularly inspired. I know that’s lame, and also just an excuse. I’ve never heard or read any writing advice that says Only write when you feel like it, or when you know that you’re going to produce something really fantastic. In fact, all advice is pretty much the opposite of that. Which is Write all the time, every day, even if you don’t feel like it or are stuck or think your writing super-sucks. And that, folks, is so, so hard. Or maybe I’m just lazy.
In some ways, the whole not-wearing-makeup thing has been a good experience. My skin has been able to detox a little bit, and is maybe a little clearer. Although I’ve also been drinking a lot more water since I know I can’t rely on concealer to cover up blemishes or circles. Getting ready to go anywhere takes less time (although it only took me about ten minutes to put on my makeup anyway), and it somehow feels honest, like This is my face, this is how I really look, no tricks here. Surprisingly, no one has said to me, “Are you okay? You look tired/like you’re not feeling well,” which I halfway expected. On the other hand, I can’t say I’ve come to a place where I feel just as attractive without makeup as when I’m wearing it, even though my husband keeps telling me how great I look. Also, I feel like I’ve been trying to compensate for my naked face in other ways, such as making sure my hair looks really good instead. The whole idea was to shed my vanity and focus on my inner beauty and sense of specialness as a person, and to learn to derive my self worth from who I am, not how I look or how others perceive me. I don’t know if I’ve accomplished that. Numerous studies have shown that being attractive gives a person certain advantages, but it can also be a crutch. One need only watch this video for an example of a very pretty woman whose intellect and creativity have been woefully underdeveloped. I know the vid’s old news, but it’s a classic case of someone who’s pretty, so she never needed to be anything else.
Still, I like to be able to look in the mirror and think, “Yay!” And that hasn’t been what’s going on for me this Lent. It’s not that I think I’m hideous or anything, it’s just that a little rouge and mascara go a long way towards making me feel good about myself. I kind-of hate that, but so far foregoing makeup hasn’t changed it. Overall, I don’t know if this will be a particularly enlightening Lent. It’s not over, of course, and I intend to stick with it. But I’m conflicted: next Saturday I’m supposed to go to a punk-rock themed costume party. Should I wear makeup for that since it’s not really about being pretty but about being part of the festivities? I haven’t decided.
C’est la vie….. February 20, 2010
Posted by EDW in Life, Musings, Rants.Tags: blogging, Humor, Life, thoughts. crisis of faith
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Sooo….um….about that last post? Yeah. Not so much.
In case you couldn’t tell, that was a big ol’ hissy fit. Which turned into a two-day pity party, where I was the guest of honor, and single attendee. What can I say? I am a drama queen. I would have made a wonderful actress. Like a 1940s actress with really great hair and red lipstick and lots of brilliant, cut-you-to-the-bone monologues. Sometimes, when I’m having a fight with my husband I say the most wonderful, melodramatic things. And I think, why isn’t anyone writing this sh*t down? This is some good drama! I mean, really, because I can seriously pour it on.
Also, I still believe in God. The whole thing was sort of the equivalent of throwing my cocktail in God’s face and storming out of the restaurant all huffy and indignant and insulted. By the way, have any of you ever thrown a drink in anyone’s face? I have. It’s actually QUITE satisfying. I can highly recommend it as an alternative to violence.
So, yeah. Recant, recant, recant.
And let the good times roll.
Nothing to Hide, Part I February 17, 2010
Posted by EDW in Musings, Social Commentary.Tags: Ash Wednesday, ideas, Lent, makeup, philosophy, religion, self-worth, Thoughts, Women
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Happy Ash Wednesday, everyone! I know Ash Wednesday isn’t normally regarded as a “happy” holiday. Penitent, remorseful, determined, or hung-over, sure. But happy?
Yes. I love Lent.
Cartoon from http://www.cartoonchurch.com/blog/
Lent, of course, gives Mardi Gras context. Without the approach of Lent, Mardi Gras is kind-of meaningless. Of course you could decide for yourself that Mardi Gras is about celebrating life or parades or whatever, and it is. But it’s also the last hurrah before the Lenten season, giving participants license to indulge heavily in whatever they’re about to forego for the next six weeks or so. Such overindulgence can also be a catalyst, a motivator to help urge Lenten abstinence. I mean, haven’t you woken after a night of heavy boozing with a churning stomach and pounding head and sworn to yourself that you’re never drinking ever again? Yeah, me too.
For me, Lent is a time to learn or experience something new, to actively choose something (perhaps something difficult) for the sake of learning about myself, or the universe, or just to prove to myself that I can do it. There is deep satisfaction in such accomplishments, if nothing else. This year I’m giving up makeup for Lent. And, because I want Lent to be about doing something and not just not doing something, I’m committing to writing. Every. Single. Day. No matter what.
The first reason I’m giving up makeup has something to do with vanity and letting go of it. The second reason is because I want to make peace with my face. Now, I’m not a makeup nut or anything. Most days I don’t wear it. But if I want to “look good”, I do. I’m not sure what that means (yet) but I hope to find out through this experiment. I haven’t gone without makeup this long since I was fourteen or fifteen. I don’t love the idea that in order to feel confident about myself or my appearance, I have to alter it (however slightly). But I also don’t really love the idea of going out to dinner or to the wine bar without makeup.
Because, in my mind, I won’t look pretty. And people will be less inclined to smile or be nice to me. I’ll be battling with feeling “plain” and what that says about me. Being “pretty” has always been important to me. Our society places little value on women who aren’t. So that’s what I’ll be dealing with this Lent. It helps, of course, that I have a husband that says things like, “You’re gorgeous without makeup, honey” and “You have a cute little face.” But the point will be encouraging self-worth from within, not from whether or not other people think I’m good-looking.
More posts on this topic to come….
Brrrrr! (Sigh…) February 10, 2010
Posted by EDW in Life, Musings.Tags: cold weather, Life, rain, sweatpants, Thoughts, winter
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Coldy, soggy, dreary view of my back yard.
I’m so tired of cold weather I could weep. If I had my way, it would only be cold outside from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day. Those are appropriate cold-weather holidays. It wouldn’t be so bad if it were at least sun-shiney outside, but for weeks we’ve been drenched with (icy cold) rain. I guess I should be thrilled that all the rain is replenishing the aquifers after the horrible, convection-oven-style summer we had. But it’s hard to find the silver lining on the proverbial cloud when the sky is just one big, blank, grey, low-hanging sheet. This morning when I got out of my yoga class, it was actually sleeting. I know, I know. It could be worse: I could live in Chicago!
Plus, I’m turning into one of those people that only wears sweatpants and giant sweaters with two shirts underneath. I have a closet filled with adorable things, but the current climate is limiting my wardrobe choices to functional (frumpy) clothing. Or maybe I’m just uninspired. I have some gorgeous coats. Still, the weather just makes me want to stay in bed until spring is here. Polar bears and other creatures that hibernate have the right idea. I don’t want to go anywhere, but, weirdly, I grossly underestimated the amount of food for the week at the grocery last Saturday. So either I concoct tonight’s supper out of some slightly freezer-burned vegetarian sausage, some frozen peas and a jar of Karo syrup, or I get my rear to the store and buy some food.
Plus, I told a lady from my local Freecycle that I’d come take some moving boxes off her hands. That’s right- I’m moving soon. To Austin, probably. I’ll miss the country and all the critters out here, but it will be nice to live in a city again. At least in a city I can call my husband and get him to bring home some take-out on days like this!
Yoga! February 8, 2010
Posted by EDW in health, Life, Musings.Tags: exercise, health, Life, Love, self-improvement, Thoughts, yoga
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Ommmmmmmmm….
Namaste, everyone! Sorry I’ve been so inconsistent. Since I last blogged, I 1.)went to New Orleans (and fell in love all over again), 2.) started a new blog with my friend, and 3.) “discovered” yoga.
You see, for several years now, I’ve had a “hunch” that I would like yoga, that perhaps I even needed yoga. But because I’ve mostly been poor-ish for my entire adult life, I was never able to afford yoga classes. I tried watching some yoga tapes on my VCR (yes, I still have a VCR) and downloading some instructional videos off the internet. But doing (probably incorrect) yoga poses by myself on the carpet never really inspired me very much. The last time I tried it, I hurt my neck and had a headache for three days. That’s it, I thought. Guess yoga’s not for me after all. Then my mom invited me to go with her to the YMCA. We took a pilates class together, and then stayed for a yoga breathing class on a whim.
And my whole life changed.
As it turns out, my original hunch was correct. Not only do I like yoga, I do feel like I need it. Actually, it’s pretty much the reason I’ve been getting out of bed in the morning. Well, that and coffee.
See, I don’t get a lot of exercise, even though I know I should- especially since I plan to live to 100. Nonetheless, exercise, with the exception of walking outside on a nice day, just bores me. Or sucks. Getting on a treadmill makes me feel silly, like I’m expending all this energy and have nothing to show for it except sweat stains and a (presumably) firmer derriere. I can’t help thinking about what aliens would think if they were studying the human race based on a gym full of people. It would baffle them, and might lead them to believe we were stupid- heaving weights around for no apparent reason, walking in place for long periods of time, climbing invisible stairs- all while watching TV with the sound turned off. Plus, none of that stuff is fun. Working out always seemed like something I should do, but while I was doing it I just kept thinking, Man I can’t wait until I’m done with this!
But yoga isn’t like that at all. I lose track of time during the sessions, and when it’s finished, I feel a little disappointed, like the end has come too soon. And though it’s physically challenging, it’s not in a punishing kind of way. Instead it feels like I really am doing something good for me. What I really love about it is how it gets me out of my head and into my body. I spend a lot of time in my head, and my head is a very noisy (albeit interesting) place. But because remembering to breathe, to focus on my third eye, to hold all the muscles of my body in exactly the right position, and to move with grace and purpose takes so munch concentration, I can’t really focus on anything else. And I love that. It’s like a mini vacation from my raucous brain to a quiet but no-less-interesting place: my body.
In just the short amount of time that I’ve been practicing, I’ve gained a new-found appreciation for my body. It is a wonderfully complex, intelligent, and beautiful organism. That may be what I love most of all- yoga makes me feel beautiful. Not in a comparative, I’m-better-looking-than-you kind of way, but just in a happy-to-be-me kind of way.
Which fits in with something I’ve sort of loosely termed “Project Me”- which is my idea for 2010. I don’t really have firm ideas about what this means- it came to me while I was cleaning the chicken coop, and is partly evolved from the Feminine Identity Project. It has to do with developing myself as an individual, valuing my own needs and experiences, expanding my spiritual understanding, loving myself, and taking better care of myself- not just physically, but intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. More on this soon….
Embarassed, Yet Again, By Other Christians November 23, 2009
Posted by EDW in Life, Musings, Rants, Social Commentary.Tags: Christmas, Holidays, Jesus, Life, making God cringe, religious intolerance, Thoughts
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What's sadder than this dead Christmas tree? Go Fish's Christmas song.
The holidays are again upon us, and so naturally, obnoxious, infuriating crap like this is being circulated via email and Facebook posts*. Someone- a Christian person who goes to our church, and probably considers themselves to be “liberal” and of a different class of Christian than your run-of-the-mill fundamentalist- sent this link to my husband, with a note that said something like, “Ha ha! This ought to get you in the spirit!”
Indeed!
Before I kick this rant into high gear, it is important for me to clarify two things. First, I am a Christian. Second, Christmas is my absolute super-most-favorite holiday ever. I’ve already been listening to (real) Christmas music (like the French Quarter Band’s Dixieland Christmas) for at least three weeks, much to my husband’s chagrin. That being said, I was first enraged, then embarrassed, and then saddened by Go Fish’s song in supposed celebration of Christmas. I’d love the opportunity to have a conversation with these guys. Here’s what I’d say to them: (more…)
Deep Thoughts November 2, 2009
Posted by EDW in chickens, Musings.Tags: chickens, deep thoughts, pecking order, poultry
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Have you ever Neosporin-ed a chicken’s comb? I have, for the second time in as many days.
There are myriad things to love about chickens, but this is not (for once) going to be a post about those things. Instead, this will be about the one (the only) thing I hate about my chickens, and that is the Pecking Order. For those who are dubiously familiar with this concept, it refers to a ranking system within a group of chickens (or other birds) whereby competition for dominance and position within the social group are expressed by viciously pecking and biting other members of that group. It was actually discovered (according to Wikipedia) by observing the behavior of poultry. If you’ve ever been bitten or pecked by a chicken, then you know what I know: it hurts. Especially when it’s your face.
Petunia is excluded from Fat Eunice and Goldie's egg-laying snugglefest.
Several days ago I noticed that Fat Eunice’s once-enviable comb was scabby and gouged. I doctored it up and wrote it off as a hazard of free-ranging. But this morning, the mystery was solved: Petunia, my long-time underdog and lowest-ranking hen, is jockeying for Fat Eunice’s spot; right before my eyes, she jumped on top of Eunice and gave her earlobe a ferocious chomp! I know they’re just animals doing animal things. I know that, to whatever extent chickens have been allowed to evolve, this behavior exists for a purpose. Still, I absolutely hate to see them being mean to each other! When I saw it happen, I screamed and waved my arms around, flapping and squawking just like they were doing. It really, really bothered me (I’m the kid that cried during nature programs– and then begged my mom not to change the channel).
No matter how many times I try to explain to the chickens that they really can all get along, that there’s plenty to eat, that I will always love and care for them equally, they don’t get it. They don’t see that they can abandon their silly system and live in fat, feathered, egalitarian bliss atop my compost pile for all of their days. They don’t see that perpetuating oppression puts them all at risk for becoming oppressed.
And then I thought: That must be how God feels about us.
Crazy Shit My Neighbors Say (Mother’s Day Special) May 8, 2011
Posted by EDW in Life, Musings, My Crazy-Ass Neighbors, Rants/Diatribes, Social Commentary.Tags: anthropology, Crazy shit my neighbors say, eavesdropping, fights, Mother's Day, people, rednecks, sociology, theater
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So, I have these neighbors. Here’s what they have in their yard:
My neighbors’ yard kind of looks like this, only there’s a horse, too.
Their fights are of the cataclysmic, thermo-nuclear variety. They hurl epithets like sharpened tree branches, they kick holes in their door, they use the “n-word.” These fights happen on a weekly basis, and when I hear raised voices next door, I turn out all the lights and sit on my back steps, eavesdropping. I can’t help myself. I have a prurient obsession with my neighbors’ fights. Maybe it’s because I don’t watch television, and therefore suffer from a violence deficiency. Or maybe it’s because I could never come up with dialogue like this, never, no matter how hard I tried. Here’s a snippet from tonight’s episode.
HIM: You did that shit in fronta my MOM!
HER: (unintelligible shrewish shrieking)
HIM: This is just a repeat of last night. You’re just drunk and you can’t handle it. It’s the same thing all over again.
HER: (more of same shrewish shrieking)
HIM: Bitch! I didn’t steal nothin’ from you–I bought you cigarettes! And a lighter!
HER: (shrewishness, etc.)
HIM: (wheezing) Why? Why would I do that? You need to grow the hell up!
HER: Me! Grow up? At least I don’t destroy other people’s property! (enters house and slams door)
HIM: Oh no, you just destroy people’s lives!
~Fin~
And by “Fin” I mean that he got into his truck and peppered their house in a spray of gravel as he revved the engine and peeled out. Because that’s how things always end. And really, what other kind of ending is there?