Laura's and fish's posts, as well as political discourse, has brought back memories... memories of being a young, single woman in the city... with a very dismal and unreliable paycheck. I believe I was working freelance jobs along with two part-time jobs... but still, paying for medical care was an issue, so I went to one of the Planned Parenthood-inspired places. It was not officially PP, but was basically the same deal. You paid for what you could, and most prices were reasonable.
Even though we were well into the latter half of the 80's, this place was right out of the 70's. Lots of ferns, lots of paneling, lots of Free to Be... You and Me stuff on the walls. I was fine with FTB...YAM, but did not necessarily want it every time I went for a check-up. It got even worse once I had to go a little more often. You see, you could not get your beloved birth control pills if your blood pressure was too high. I am notorious for having low blood pressure, but when in this place, with all of the questions, all of the doubtful looks, mine would shoot sky-high.
"We'll give you a month's worth of birth control pills, but you must come back and prove you're BP is ok!"
Before these visits I would chant... think of dolphins, think of dolphins, think of dolphins...
But when they'd come in to check me out and would ask something that merited a smart-ass answer, with me giving it, and them taking me seriously, my BP would shoot sky high. I knew the drill... take the woman, who may or may not be abused, to a dark room... and let her think of dolphins for 10 minutes. Test again.
Most of the time I could chill, and the Rx was mine.
There was one time though that 3 women came into the room and suggested it was time to get to know my body.
Huh?? I was in my 20's! I knew my body?? What do you mean?? Know my body??
They produced a plastic speculum and a mirror... I kid you not. I scanned the ferns for hidden cameras...
They told me no women truly owns herself until she can examine herself... see the beauty of her cervix. I told them I was fine with a hidden cervix. My cervix was doing what it needed to do and I also trusted the professionals who checked it out...
They took this 'no' as an issue. I was like, "No, you don't get it... I was raised by a very down to earth mother who was nurse and called a spade a spade. Sure, my father might have been a little squeamish about the workings of daughterly parts, but Mom was fully on board with open discussion. I don't have issues... in fact, I'd like to use my parts with the man I love, the man who doesn't beat me, the man who accepts me as I am... while I myself am accepting me as I am... OK?? Take the Pap test and let me be on my way!"
But they insisted... which I felt was incredibly wrong, but hey... I was at peace with my parts, and as I mentioned, wanted to freely use my parts, so I did it. Woo-hoo! Look at my cervix! Woo-hoo! Yay! It looks like... a cervix... Can I go now???
They tried to give me a speculum to take home, but I think I shocked them when I said I preferred the flesh variety. Fortunately, soon after, I got insurance and was able to go to a Dr, who never once suggested I get in touch with my cervix... a Dr who seemed to understand that I was hip to my stuff... but relied on a professional to look up under my chassis.
(Heh... when I go to add a link to type up above, TypePad says, "Insert Link"... See?? These are the kind of thoughts that got me into trouble at the Women's place!)
We stayed in a number of different places while on the road. Some were chosen in advance... some were merely chosen by where we wanted to go that day or when we wanted to stop. One thing did not change... when we got there, Grizzled let me decide which side of the bed I was sleeping on.
Grizzled and I have been sharing beds for over 2 decades now. He said he used to think I always chose the same side, no matter the room, but he soon learned that was wrong. He then said he thought it was the side farthest away from the door, but that wasn't right either. He then realized it was safest to just let me pick... my picking being done the minute I walk in. I sense the side I want and plop my stuff down. I have been known to switch sides during a visit though if the room doesn't feel right, even though I know switching sides won't necessarily help. Sometimes the bed is just off.
We stayed in one of these rooms while on the road. It did not feel good to me and neither did the bed. I woke up in the middle of the night, certain something was in front of me. I could feel it. If I opened my eyes, I'd see it and I didn't want to. I also knew I had a chair next to my side of the bed and had put a bunch of my stuff in it so that was probably it. I opened my eyes and sure enough, saw a large, dark mass. I reached out, felt one of my bags and then something else that didn't feel familiar. I jumped and made some panicked noise. I snatched my hand back in as fast as I could, pulled up the covers even though it was hot, and inched over to Grizzled's side... slowly enough that he wouldn't realize he only had 5 inches on which to sleep... and then I waited... it was a long night.
I'm not afraid of a lot, but my senses/imagination can have their way with me in the dark. Maybe it was too many horror movies as a kid... one too many scary novels, or camping out with friends and trying to scare the bejesus out of each other... or my brothers, who liked to torment like only brothers can... I like to be scared, but when I choose. I don't like to be afraid at night, which is why I'm glad I don't have to sleep alone... even when I was alone, I still had a dog.
I remember when I was much younger and my grandmother was still alive and living by herself, I would ask her if she was afraid at night, wasn't she tempted to sleep with a light on... somewhere?? (She had a creepy basement with dirt walls... and a scary attic... those two places would immediately pop into my mind if I was staying overnight at her otherwise wonderful house....) She said she grew up with no electricity so darkness did not bother her. She also had the Lord to look over her... Well, Grandma's Lord gave me a wicked imagination that likes to mess with me... so again, I am glad I don't have to sleep alone. I am also glad I have someone who can sleep anywhere... and doesn't mind that I need to pick my side of the bed... or who doesn't mind when I leave him only 5 inches to sleep on because I am sure that something out of Grandma's basement is sitting next to my side.
The sinister wooly bison still haunts me... and it was in our hotel room that night... I know it.
This showed up in my mailbox (clarification: my email inbox... not my real mailbox, although that thought makes some of the guesses even funnier.) in the wee hours of the morning...first person who correctly guesses who sent it, wins a prize.
I'm glad we've only sent fish to the freezer. I don't think I want to see frozen Zombies. I'm guessing if Blue Girl was sent to the freezer, she's be even bluer, and we don't need to see that.
I don't know about thunder. Can you freeze thunder?? I know you can't catch the wind, but... can you freeze thunder.
... but I'm always tweaking, always rehabbing. I realized, my dream studio would need this app:
I would like to be able to push a button and all of the things I'll never need again, will never use, will never think of, will just be GONE! No sorting, no wondering, no pulling out some ancient box of whatevers and thinking, "WILL I EVER NEED THESE WHATEVERS EVER AGAIN!?!?"
If I ask my mind that, my mind will suddenly go to the millions of ways I might need these things, all of the ways I could use them. Best to keep it JUST IN CASE!
However, I'm finding that I have shelves full of "Just in Case"... when I really need to use those shelves for "What I'm Doing Now!" I would allow myself a shelf for the near future and a shelf for just in case, but my shelf is turning into a closet of "Just in Case".
I want to not have to even look at things I'll never use again because if I look, I might wonder... And it would also have to be things the lamblets would never use, because they're creative sorts and love to have access to a random smattering of things. Even if I don't want something, I might keep it for them.
Of course, my dream studio would also have that, "Exactly What You Need Right Now" closet... which would hold what I needed, whether I knew it or not. It would hold whatever anyone needed. Whoever opened the door would see only what they needed.
I would also like my dream studio to have the "This is exactly what you need to eat right now" fridge... which when I opened it, would have the perfect meal, ready to go... full of whatever nutrients my bod was lacking at that time... and not full of things that would give me hives, go directly to my butt, phlegm-up my sinuses, etc, etc. (My stomach just typed this one. It's lunchtime, and I'm hungry).
I am once again trying to clear out my office/studio space so it's not full of ghosts of abandoned projects from the past or monsters from the imagined future. I need it to be a place of focus, of clarity, of ease. I think I'm going to invent a drawing table/easel/line of sketchbooks that have blinders on them so you can't see anything but what you're working on... No, even better, you can't think of anything, but what you're working on.
I have three areas I need to be able to devote my space and thoughts to (not necessarily in order of importance):
1) Class-planning
2) Finishing work I've promised
3) Getting 3 specific projects to their next level of development.
I need to get distractions out of my way. I need to make space for what's going on now. That eject button for things I never need to think about again would sure come in handy.
I think it just changed to, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!
My painting class starts back up today... Good times are sure to be had. I was also supposed to be starting a true beginners class tonight so people who need (and want) a lot more assistance and direction could get the time and attention they deserve. I always feel bad (for any number of reasons) for the true beginners who end up in the regular class. Most end up not coming back. My boss and I felt offering an evening class for true beginners might bring in a different crowd. As of last week, enrollment was ZERO!! I wasn't surprised. Sometimes a class needs to be in the books for a session or three before enough people happen upon it, or before schedules mesh.
As of this morning, I had still not heard whether it was officially canceled, or if through some painting magic, we had the needed minimum of 8. They were supposed to call and let me know. I finally called them, pretty sure the answer must be no... or they would have called!! Right??
WRONG!
I have class tonight. They did not get the minimum, but because they love me, they're going to let it run with 3, and hopefully we can build from there. I have nothing planned... and am I planning? No, it appears I'm writing a blog post.
EL and I were at the bookstore this past weekend... She's been channeling one her great grandmothers and has been crocheting with impossibly small hooks and spiderweb-thin thread. She was looking for books on the topic. I was perusing the other "how-to" books in the area, although most of them usually irk me because they start at step 1. No, they usually start before step 1... they start somewhere along the lines of, "Here's an idea for you because you'll never come up with your own, and then we'll tell you exactly how to do it so it will look exactly like this..." I know there's a need for those books, but they rankle me. They need a section of books that says, "Use anything for anything, even if you're not supposed to... Go nuts!" :)
Anyhow, while skimming their other offerings, I came upon this book. I was intrigued. Yes, it had too many instructions, but what I liked were the images. The images reminded me of long ago. My sister and I used to make endless troll houses by stacking shoe boxes and Kleenex boxes... we'd wallpaper them, build furniture, used found items and repurposed them. I think we usually only played with them for a few days, the real joy was in the making of them.This was preceded by the joy that came from realizing it was again, troll house time!
This also reminded me of one of my favorite grammar school assignments. When in the 5th grade, we were to read a book and then do a report... but the fun part was we also had a to do a diorama of sorts. We were each given a cigar box which we were to make look like the book, when you held the box as you would a book, you opened it to find a small report glued to the inside flap, and then a 3-D scene in the main compartment of the box. I LOVED THAT ASSIGNMENT! I wish I still had the box. I still have the book I used though...
Seeing the mixed media dollhouse book, and thinking back to the joy of troll house construction made me think once again of my dream studio... In my ideal world of creation, my studio would be a huge room with lots of table space, easel space, drawing table space, lots of shelf/cabinet space... sinks, wonderful lighting, perfectly comfy and supportive chairs...Yeah, I know, all of you are thinking, yeah, so... all of this is totally possible! So what? Well here's where it takes a turn, in my ideal studio space, there would also be large "closets" that held smaller versions of Home Despot, Dick Blick's, Michael's, and an awesome second hand store with a multitude of "found items". They would be solely for my use, or whomever was in the space... no bothers with driving to the store, cashiers, other customers, needing to make a list... no, you could just go in and grab what you needed and pop back out.
Also included in this dream studio space? The ability to stop time. Once you stepped in... you could stay for as long as you liked and no time would pass! Once you stepped back out into the "real world", it would be 2 seconds later!!! Phone calls would wait, interruptions would wait!
Other things I'd have in my ideal studio space?? A branch. Many years ago, my mother informed me that one of my favorite childhood trees was hit by lightning and the bottom branch was going to have to be removed. I remembered that branch, I knew that branch... it was the first one you grabbed as you swung your legs up to hoist yourself around in order to climb. It was also the last branch you touched when coming down. It was sturdy and reliable. That branch was a step to another world, to freedom, to invisibility! I asked if I could have it so I could mount it in my apartment. I was bummed to find out it had grown significantly since I had last embraced it... still, I still have the desire for a large branch in my studio... or better yet, maybe a tree! One you could climb or hang a swing from! Yes, I'd like that... a tree and a swing.
I would also like music, and music that was exactly what I needed at the time, even if I didn't even know the song or the artist yet. I'd like that...
And the last thing, but certainly not the least important... I'd like to be able to take my imagination out where I can see it and talk to it. I'd like to meet it again, on its own terms, not mine. I'd like to let it out to run around. At some point, I think I turned my wild mustang of an imagination into a trick pony. Sure, it can still do impressive things, but it needs freedom. It needs to be in charge, not me. It should dictate, while I take notes, not the other way around. Yes, in this room, there'd be pure freedom with no preconceived ideas of what a creation should be or of its reception. Before entering this room, my imagination would dislodge the creative hairball that years of behavioral training had made... it, and I, would be free...
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