Updates - stitching, life, drama, etc.

It has been a couple of weeks since I have posted anything - busy with things to do, schedules to keep, housework (yes, that too)... Ah what the hell - there was nothing to write about, that's all. Scrubbing the kitchen counters may be something necessary to do, but it's hardly worth mentioning on the blog for the whole world to see. As for the thoughts in my head - they are too quick and flighty to capture on paper - or virtual space.
There is one update worth noting, though: I decided to go back to school. I changed my major to Business/Accounting - no more teaching for me, ladies and gentlemen. I just do not think this field is all it is described to be... By the time your students realize they had a good teacher, they are generally raising their own kids, and you are ready to retire. In the meantime, you put in hours at work and more hours at home planning lessons, living on coffee and self-inspiration... Oh, worse yet, one of your students goes out and does something horrible... And, although the responsibility is not yours, it still feels like there is something you could have done... And that is just too much.
The world of numbers, accounts and ledgers is more quiet, more definitive, and has clearer expectations. It does not invite you to change the world, but then again I am not up to that task anyway. It only asks you to balance the accounts.... Fairly clear.
If I start this summer, I will be done and ready to transfer to Cal Poly in two semesters. All that General Ed I took while working on Child Development degree is paying off. So nothing's wasted.

The Stitch-Along I am participating in has died out, so it seems - no one is posting their updates. I guess everyone is busy doing things. That's understandable, although it would be nice to hear from someone once in a while.
Toodles.

Alice in Wonderland

Last week we went to see the new "Alice in Wonderland" movie. It was more impressive than I expected, - good actors, great voices, and timely special effects. While Joe was admiring the Mad Hatter's costume, I enjoyed the characters' voices. I was especially impressed with Epsilon the Catepillar - Alan Rickman: "I can't help you - you don't even know who you are, stupid girl." Stephen Fry as the Chashire Cat was especially charming. The Mad Hatter's character has more depth than the original story - it explores all the meanings of the word "mad". Every character in this movie is shown from a new, often unexpected, angle, giving each character and the whole story additional depth and meaning.
My favorite lines from the movie are....
"It's the wrong Alice! He brought the wrong Alice!"
" You are not Epsilon; I am Epsilon."

I have seen a few reviews of the movie; some complain that it does not bring the magical crazy world of Lewis Carroll, that it is nothing like the book, and that it is "too logical." I have read Alice in Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass, and this movie reminded me of the books, of how I felt when I read it as a child. There was a sense of danger, a sense of maddening nonsense and crazy logic. I never had that feeling when watching the classical Disney cartoon - that was just a cleaned up, pretty story, as far as I am concerned. This movie is different: it shows real connections between real life's problems and the Underland, inviting to make real choices - the ones that will affect you everywhere, in "the other world" and this one.

Anyway, I guess I am starting to ramble again. My Celtic Lady's calling - time to stitch!
Let me know what you think when you see the movie.

New Month - New Week - New Day

For the past month, I have been mostly healing, going to therapy of all sorts, dealing with family crises, and stitching. All sorts of things have been happening - sadness, disagreement, anger, nonsense, violence... Both within - and without - myself and my family. Some things made no sense at all... Anyway, I am starting to ramble without providing anything concrete. But, as George Carlin used to say, it feels like circling the drain. Everything swirls around so fast, and it's all bullshit. And it's bad for ya. :)
Some time last week I had a weird feeling. Suddenly I thought that someone was in my back yard, and that he was going to shoot me - right through the open window, through the screen. It was dark outside, and I did not see or hear anyone - and there was no one there. But the mere possibility of it scared me so that I actually closed the window and moved away from the wall.
Of course, about a minute later my logical self said - you are just freaked out; nobody is there, and living in constant fear that someone is going to do something bad to you is not a way to live at all. And then I thought that, in reality, anyone could hurt me at any moment, rules and laws aside. In my mind there are all these "guarantees" of safety and rights, but all these things in my mind are not real - they are not going to protect me. If some jerk or psycho decides to go out and just kill me - he or she may just succeed, regardless of all the rules.... How do I live with that?
I suppose I will - live with that. It teaches me that I cannot take anything for granted. Ever since the attack I had one reoccurring thought - "My life is not my own." Living on borrowed time? I don't know.
Maybe I am starting to lose my mind. Or maybe I am discovering some new and profound truth about existence, and my mind has trouble dealing with it.
Stitching keeps me busy and freak-out free - at least for the most part. This, together with my cat, gives me the best therapy ever - seriously, better than the real therapist. Somewhere I read the break down of the word "therapist" as "the rapist".... Anyway, Crystal - the cat - sits next to me when I stitch, and once in a while she looks at me and lies down straight on my project. That's her way of saying - enough work, I need attention. pet me. I pull the project out from under her, pet her, and she purrs. Sometimes I hear noises and get worried - but she hears them first, and her ears point up, and she starts surveying the landscape. I feel like she is protecting me from the unknown.
Such a bazzare post... Maybe I am losing my mind.

New Project - Celtic Lady Summer

Last week, I started working on Celtic Summer project. Here she is... I already had to do a couple of un-dos and re-dos, but it only inspires me more... I want her to be perfect, and working on her brings me satisfaction. With my recent concentration problems, I have not been able to complete much work, but I can concentrate on her. Selective memory problems, isn't it? Don't know. All I know is this is one thing right now that keeps me going.

Stitching Project - Hunting for Threads

A couple of days ago I started the Celtic Summer project. I picked up the DMC threads; found the beads; now I am on the hunt for Needlepaints and Rainbow gallery... I must have visited about 20 stores - physical and virtual - and Ebay has proved itself once again. Although with Needlepaints being phased out, they are hard to come by. I found one shade - six colors; nothing else is available.
I looked up the conversion chart from Needlepaints to DMC and to other floss manufacturers. I think by the time I am done with this project, I will know enough to write a paper on floss manufacturers and conversions of color.
I am glad to see that my hunt has paid off. Does anyone have any advice? I have not stitched enough to post a picture on the SAL blog yet, but it is coming along, and I like it.

New Year's Resolutions, Goals, and Updates

After recent events I felt I needed an outsider's point of view - someone who was familiar with the general problem I was facing, but not entirely in the picture. That point of view came from an old friend; he said (adding that he was probably quoting someone) - "People try to "help" fixing someone else's life when their own lives are not quite working out. And the more successful your life is, the more "helpers" you may expect. Ignore them and stick to your own business - no attitude, no "I'll show them" behavior; that's the best way."
Now that I am translating his words into English, I know I've heard this before. Maybe I had to read these words in Russian to get inspired. In light of this, I have decided to try and ignore "helpers" and "supporters" of this sort. Another words - I am going to try and ignore all stupidity. I am going to focus on my own health, my children's health, and my family's improvement. We all have been through a lot this past year, and we will need time to recuperate.
Since last week, I have found myself unable to concentrate on tasks: cross stitching does not get done; reading is not an option; I can't focus when watching a movie. Tutoring job had to go - I have neither patience, nor attention span necessary for this kind of work. A good friend advised me to do small tasks - housework, dusting, sweeping - something where I will be able to see the results of my work instantly.
I can, however, write in my journal. That helps. Describing feelings and emotions provides an outlet and brings relief. Writing this blog helps - even though I am not sure how many people read it; but it is truly a stitching time - a stitch in time - one step at a time - process; just like life.
Now about my cross stitch and embroidery plans. About two weeks ago, after my splints were removed, I was so excited, so full of ideas and plans... I wanted to sign up for the Celtic Lady SAL - and I went to the store, got the chart, and over the next week found the linen and most of the floss needed for the project. I also planned to sign up for the Oriental Bunka Art lessons at Community education - to learn Japanese embroidery. Then - I noticed my concentration problems. Bunka art had to wait - to save myself the embarrasement of crying in class. Stitching at home is also put on hold - hopefully only temporary. I hope to get back to it, a little bit every day - even if only 10 minutes at a time - and build it up, just like everything else...
This is what amazes me: the whole stressful event took maybe ten minutes - but the affects of it are still showing up, and are far from over... It's a gift that keeps on giving, someone said. I can see and feel myself changing - I don't even care if it's for better or worse; I just know that I will never be the same because of what happened during those ten minutes. My changes happen suddenly, unexpectedly, but, strangely enough - also one step at a time... Just faster steps.
We'll see what happens. I change - one step at a time; I write - one word at a time; I live - one day at a time.

Racism and Loneliness

Well, as if I have not had enough crap happen to me, yesterday another thing resurfaced... How would I put it delicately? ah, fuck it - there is no way to put it any other way: my husband's sisters are racists. The younger one has been easy to understand: she disapproved of me from the start. When the tensions finally mounted to the breaking point, she called and left messages on the phone cursing and swearing about her brother accepting " the white bitch that walked into his life" and "forgetting of who he is" and "forgetting that he was a black man." I remember sitting in the living room alone with my 3 week old daughter and having to listen to every message - I did not want to pick up the phone....
After many calls and screams and yells between Joe and his sisters he assured me that "this was not going to happen again". I was not sure how he was going to guarantee that, but I wanted to believe him. On my part, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable - I isolated myself from that woman and her attitudes. I made it known that she was not welcome in my home, and I did not want to expose my children to that kind of attitude ( yes, I specified my children - Joe felt that Mike and Alex should not stop seeing their aunts).
The older sister, who calls herself an artist, was not as abrupt. In the end, though, she turned out to be just as strongly opinionated as the other one. That one hurt more, because her poison was slow and almost untraceable: no, she did not mean to be this or that, but this family is just so special and it has so many things going on and you just have to be one special person to understand its dynamics. No, it's no disrespect meant, but this is a family matter, and I should not be involved. Oh, I should really keep my opinion to myself. Ah, I really do not understand my stepsons - after all, let's name it loud and clear - they are African American, American Indian (the tribes were mentioned - every time in particular order), German, Jewish, and - at the end - Caucasian. It was stated to me - ever so subtly - that I simply was not capable to understand. Why, and who would? A black person would - because of that person's culture... For a second I actually regretted not being black - then - wait a goddamn minute!!! Since when did the skin color was an indication of ability to understand a new, different culture? I never fully voiced my opinion - not that I did not try, but I was always shut up in the process - but I ended up never being comfortable around my "ever so cultural" sister-in-law. Especially when she yelled at me at the top of her lungs for trying to breastfeed my baby in the room with her artwork - I was "being disrespectful and insulting" to her masterpieces by taking care of my daughter's basic need. Her accusation seemed even more awkward because we were surrounded by paintings and statues representing family, and preceded by a lecture on family values. So -real family live dynamics are offensive to the family art? Suddenly all her words, all her works turned into idols - ugly and lifeless representations of her self-importance, nothing more. From that moment on, I was doubting whether she was a real artist - perhaps, I thought, a mere craftswoman who knew techniques well, nothing more. Was there soul in her work? Where?
The conflict finale took place yesterday. After my "incident" of injury - another lovely way to avoid calling it what it is - an attempt on my life - Joe and I had to go to court. The "artist" sister wanted to come too - "for support," as she said. Some support it was. After we left the room (another continuance, nothing new) she started shooting out questions: did you talk to the attorney? Can Alex be released? You need to find out what can be done - Alex is part Native American, so "they" can't even judge him by American laws - he'd have to go before the Tribal Council. When I tried to answer, she waved her hand and said sharply, " I am not talking to you, I am talking to my brother!"
Excuse me???? excuse the FUCK out of me!!!!! I AM HERE TOO!!! that's what I wanted to say, but instead - I lost my breath and could only say "Excuse me?"
She says - "Get out of my face!"
For several seconds I felt like I could not breathe. Joe was saying something about respect- disrespect and how I was to be respected and how she did not have the right to treat me like that... it was obvious to me that she couldn't care less. I turned around and walked away. And Joe stayed - perhaps, to explain to her the error of her ways...
Finally I walked far enough and started to be able to breathe again. I collected my thoughts... What to do, what to do? I wanted to go home. I turned around and walked back - Joe was still talking, and she was still talking over him. None of them turned to me - I did not exist to them... At least that was how it felt. I am really becoming more and more familiar with that feeling...
Finally, I said, "Joe, I need to talk to you - separately." Joe pulled himself away from his sister, and I said, " I need you to take me home - now. If you want to talk to her about this, please do it later." Joe said his quick good byes and took me to the coffee shop - to get over the shock.
Yes, he said all the right things. He said that he was "on my side," that she was wrong, and I was right, and this was "never going to happen again." And then - he walked out of the shop and called his sister on the cell phone. And I was left alone to deal with my feelings...
She said to Joe that "perhaps I would be more comfortable around people of Caucasian descent." I never heard anything more ridiculous...
Again, just like seven years ago, I had to make the decision. All this time they said I was part of their family... or not... I decided - I don't want racists in my family, and I do not have to accept their deformed views!
Of course, Joe keeps telling me he loves me. he says... many things, and they are all the right things. But it's all in the details. while he "explains the error of her ways" to his sister, he actually talks to her, while I stay alone.
I feel alone. Sometimes I want to disconnect the phone - no one calls anyway, except bill collectors. Except my children, I have no one. I do not feel loved. I do not feel protected. I do not feel anything but pain and disappointment. Sometimes I do not want to feel any more.