Sarcomical

It's all about timing...

Last week driving back home from a trip I was compelled to pull over and take a photo of this overwhelmingly grand sky just before the colors disappeared. As I just prepared to post it, I realized that if I hadn't stopped for the couple of minutes to stand next to my car along a cornfield-adjacent highway, I would not have hit that cream kitty that jetted in front of me and only me on the very busy interstate an hour later one exit from my house (the first time I have ever hit an animal - EVER), and consequently would not have gone into a bizarre internal hysteria which made it necessary for me to hold my breath to stifle the heaving and sobbing over the next 10 minutes so I could see past my teary eyeballs and get home without wreaking MORE death and destruction and return to the four pets in my house, who had to put up with me successively crying into their furry heads after I came in, especially the cat who was brazenly laying on the kitchenette table staring straight at me damningly when I walked in.

For once, I didn't shoo him off. Effing sky.

Vintage Sarcomical: I Have No Control

*Enjoy this Vintage Sarcomical post from the original blog. I'll occasionally put up some of my old favorites here for your SUPER COLOSSAL ENJOYMENT (usually on the weekends). This one even still makes ME laugh, and was originally published October 20, 2004.
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Did I ever tell you I was briefly addicted to The Sims? Briefly as in about 2 weeks. Then I just couldn't take it anymore.

I'm sure most of you know what that game is all about. You get to control what these little computer people do, like when they shower, eat, watch t.v., socialize, sleep, etc. Then they're supposed to automatically start to maintain themselves as you go along. You get a certain amount of money, then have to get your people to find jobs so they can make money to buy more amenities. Otherwise, they start out in a hut with nothing in it.

These little people are bitchy. I don't know if I just wasn't doing it right, but here are some problems I kept running into:

1. My people never wanted to look for jobs. If I could get them to find one at first, it was a crappy one where they carpooled in a shitty car every morning. Every time I commanded them to go look in the paper for a new job they would go to the paper and a.) look at it b.) look at me c.) scowl d.) shake their heads no way. Then a little message box appeared that said "I am too depressed to look for a job now." What the hell???
   
2. Because they never had any money, they didn't have the nicest furniture. And when I told them to sleep, they'd look at me like "you've gotta be kidding me, lady", then cross their arms and say "uh-uh, UH-UH!". I guess the little pricks were too good for their bed. So they'd throw themselves on the floor, or collapse outside on the lawn. Whatever.
   
3. They NEVER cleaned up after themselves. No matter how many times I told them to do the dishes, the little jerks let the dishes pile on the floor, or wherever they happened to be, and flies gathered. I mean, it doesn't take a genius, right? Why couldn't they pick up their shit?
   
4. Their showers and toilets always leaked onto the floor. I even tried to splurge on nice facilities. I don't know what they were doing in there, but there was ranky water everywhere. And then they'd stop showering altogether, which led to...
   
5. ...They smelled. At least I think that's why the husband and wife never wanted to sit together. One would try to get all cozy on the couch, and the other would look at them in disgust and start saying something that I can only imagine was cussing and general verbal abuse. Because the other one would cry.
   
6. None of the neighbors wanted to socialize with my people after the first day or two. Probably because of the smelling and the swearing. The only thing they could do after a while was go into town and play slots at the casino. Because GOD FORBID that one of the lazy asses would get up and get a JOB for money.
   
7. And inevitably, no matter how many different things I tried, they always did what ended up pissing me off the most. They started peeing themselves. On the floor, in the yard, anywhere they felt like it. I don't know if this is because their toilets were never working or if they had become mentally unstable, but I was powerless against their urge to take a piss everywhere BUT the bathroom.
   
8. A few times one of the spouses died. I think once it was because she got so unhappy she stopped eating. And if you've ever played, you've seen what happens. A dark figure in a cloak with a scythe comes to take them away. Hello? EWW.

*At least I didn't do what my husband did. One of his ladies burned to death while she was cooking dinner.

I believe this will become one of my life lessons...

I've finally been able to pick back up with a personal project I've wanted to undertake for a while now - photodocumenting the disadvantaged in Indianapolis and the surrounding areas and the vast (amazingly, surprisingly, and largely unnoticed by the wider population) mass of non-profit organizations that serve them. I am especially touched by the children in these circumstances, and though each time I visit a new place I have to overcome a flutter of fear of walking into an unknown environment and worrying I won't be able to do the situation justice with my images, this is something I am determined to follow through with, wherever it leads. The following are just a few images from my latest trip to an after-school program downtown; I'll post more of this story on my photo blog soon.

 

Fuzzy

"There is nothing worse than a brilliant image of a fuzzy concept."  -Ansel Adams

It's become clear to me over the past two weeks or so that I've approached an unavoidable crest of decisive moments in a few areas of my life. It's not that I find this daunting; I actually am grateful for the will to even make determinations in light of the fact that my soul had been laying low and soft for a long time, zipping up inside of itself just enough to allow me to function on auto-play, get through days without experiencing any loss or disappointment or bare-naked vulnerability. Yes, I've been often tucked away on the other side of the wall over the past year and a half, and have peered out from the mouse hole during the last few months to observe the action bustling about in this bright room, and I want to do more than warm my face in the sunshine and then scurry back to the hideout.

One thing I'm most happy to see re-emerge is my intention to allow myself to feel the fear of journeys I've wanted to embark on for a long while. I'd convinced myself that I didn't care what I was doing or where I was going in my life, because things had spun so out of my own control that my defense mechanism flipped into hypersonic mode and told me to go numb. Numb. I can't stress strongly enough how destructive the state of numbness is to a person's spirit. Sometimes, the brain doesn't know what else to do with information or circumstances that are too intense to bear; it's a part of our chemistry. But left to burrow and nest unattended, it will smolder the soul in a cloud so black and so acrid that it will choke out even the desire to emerge from it.

Freeing myself has largely been a task I have borne alone. I don't have a large social circle from which to draw support and there is no family member I have the type of relationship with currently that lends itself to that sort of sharing. Mr. Sarcomical has at times tried his best to be supportive, but his own personal struggles and a schedule that has taken him frequently on the road often has limited what he can provide in terms of accountability and active encouragement. Sometimes when both spouses are working through individual difficulties, it's like two people treading water. You have to start kicking your own feet or you'll both just be going nowhere and running out of breath.

I am kicking as hard as I can.

I am going to dive back into some parts of LIVING I've all but abandoned - experimental cooking, getting messy and making objects with my hands, writing every day, having a sleep schedule FRIENDLY TO HUMANS, etc. I'm going to rely on a lot of physical exercise to be my antidepressant drug; it's something I've come to realize is unavoidable for me at this point. But hey, bonus! NICE ASS, which I think I can live with. I have to let go of the guilt of feeling so far a disappointment to anyone who ever nurtured my intelligence or talents. I have a personality which naturally hesitates at hint of failure, smack talks itself out of going after a frighteningly wonderful opportunity. The cyclical thinking which allows someone to stay stuck in Numb is ridiculously simple for me to slip into. But if I can each day do ONE thing that excites me even a little bit, or take ONE step in the direction of something I intend to be, I can be confident that my soul will be able to breathe easy. Emerging from Numb is an incredibly difficult process, but I don't need to worry about making it all look perfect.

I can be a fuzzy image of a brilliant concept.