Smash365: Dreams

Jul 28, 2011 by cara moulds

If you are going to create anyway, if you cannot avoid dreaming, then why not create a beautiful dream?  Why not dream well and really enjoy your dream?  If you can believe in your limitations, then why not believe in the beauty and power of life that’s flowing through you? – Don Miguel Ruiz, The Fifth Agreement

What is a limitation you believe you have?  What would happen if you believed the opposite?

I believe that I’m a bad person. I believe that for all my ability and accomplishment, deep inside, I have rotted and I have nothing of value to offer. That anyone involved with me would be better off without me… and this terrifies me. I believe that my presence is a detriment. I believe that what I want is utterly selfish. That wanting anything is selfish.  I fear that I only want for me and not for other people though I know I give in return.  I believe that wanting anything for myself makes me selfish and therefore bad.

Oddly, I’ve accepted this even as I fight it.

I accept that I want certain things. I question whether I deserve them. Whether I have a right to ask for them, even as I ask for them or reach for them. I don’t just take though. I do give in return, probably much, much more than I take. Still I wonder if it’s enough. I don’t know if I’ll ever internalize a feeling of acceptance. It’s cause for a lot of my internal conflict. Cause for a lot of my inner guilt.

Somewhere in my reading of Eastern philosophy I read that to receive is as virtuous as to give. It allows another to feel the gift of giving when you allow yourself to be open to what they would share.

If I could embrace this, I would be less burdened. Happy.

I Quit - #Studio30Plus

I Quit

This is something I fail at. I’m not good at stopping anything, while I am very good at beginning new things. What this translates to, is to make for a very busy girl.  

Oh I suppose it’s not strictly true. I no longer play any of the sports I did growing up or in high school. But even then it wasn’t throwing down my mit and storming off the field. It was, “Well the season is over…. Oh look I’m too busy to start up again in the fall”.

So let me tell you the story of how I quit sprinkles.

It’s pretty much stuck. I only had to do it once. For Lent. No, I’m not Catholic. Or Christian for that matter. But I quit sprinkles for Lent and never picked them back up again.

You see, my manager was heavily involved in his faith. Each year he would make a big production of renewing his dedication to abstinence from alcohol. He would pull out one frosty brew from the walk in freezer, set it out…. And look at it. Moreso, he left it out for the rest of us to look at as well. It was a testament of his faith that he could see it every day, and not be swayed by temptation. Of course, he also wanted us to do this as well.  I wouldn’t say I’m a militant atheist, but I’m militantly not Christian. However I do have a sense of humor. So after yet another lecture on the virtues of self-deprivation I took a deep breath, threw back my shoulders, and marched right back into the back of the shop. I hauled over the footstool to reach the bin of multi-colored sugar accessories and set it gently down on the counter. I pulled back the lid, smelling the sickly sweet scent that accompanied the release of air and gingerly pulled out five sprinkles. One in each color. After replacing the storage bin to it’s dry dock I palmed my acquisition and shuffled back out to the front of the house where my manager was tending the register. I then informed him that I would be partaking in his yearly ritual and that I too, had something to relinquish for Lent. And I threw those 5 sprinkles right in the garbage. Never to be touched again.

Did you know 5 sprinkles cost ten cents? I do now.

Smash365: Fear

Since it appears that the #Trust30 writing challenge is up ::sigh:: I have decided to try the Smash365 writing prompt instead. Today’s is:

Smash365: Fear

Jul 26, 2011 by cara moulds

“Fearlessness comes from a habit of doing lots of little things that constantly put you out of your comfort zone.” – Marty Wilson

What are you doing today to take you out of your comfort zone?

I feel like I’ve been in a rut for a while. Or like things don’t take me out of my comfort zone. Or that I’m always out of my comfort zone. All at the same time.

Work is my lease comfortable person. She exists in an environment that is not comfortable for her. That does not suit her personality, that makes her want to crawl out of her own skin. Every day here is an attempt to push myself just one more day beyond my boundaries of tolerance. And make others believe that I do, in fact, belong here.

The pretending has an odd effect. I feel split to my core. That this is not some place I belong or should be. On the other, the playing a part for 9 hours a day I occasionally slip fully into the roll, even for just a moment or two I feel like I belong in a meeting, talking to a vendor, performing my analysis. The disconnect comes in the fact that I am very capable of doing all of these things, though they do not feel like my true calling. They are something I am good at, not something I am passionate about…. Which is where this place is both comfortable, because it is not challenging, and not because it takes me away from my identity.

This however, is not what the prompt cues.

Going back to school. Again, both in and out of my comfort zone. I will be embarking on a challenge into a field that is  utterly new. It doesn’t completely feel like it’s pushing me out of my comfort zone because I thrive in an academic environment and clearly I have gone to school before. Also, the psych field I have dabbled in amatuerly. However to do it with the mindset of becoming a professional in the field, now that, is pushing the bounds of what I am accustomed to. It’s a field where I do not know how to go about finding my footing. I have no idea of the field work, interactive processes that accompany preparing you for the working world in this field. Engineering is cut and dry. Do the work, get an internship, do what you’re told, graduate, get a job. It’s all very objective. Psychology is a little less rigid. It seems more subjective. I’m intrigued. It will be a way to use my brain in a field that is utterly foreign in a way that I do not get to normally.

It’s a little scary to take the step outside of my established environment. Scary, but exhilarating.

Side note: I cleared up the hold on my transcripts and hopefully I’ll be able to arrange a meeting with an academic advisor by Friday =)

I also wonder if I even have a comfort zone. I don’t seem to be comfortable anywhere, at any time, save for brief moments of it where my mind is taken to places of fleeting peace. When I feel like I’m floating outside of my Self it’s difficult to settle into my own skin long enough to obtain that sense of comfortable calm. The best I can usually hope for is to occupy my mind so much so that I forget my malaise. This is why I constantly push myself, try new things, explore new avenues of adventure and information. Perhaps this is why I do not often feel outside of my ‘comfort zone’ because every chance I get I push my limits into a new venue. Nothing seems foreign to me, because often everything is. Who I am, what I’m doing, where I’m going, how I go about doing it… every time I try something new, it makes going outside of my comfort zone, a comfort.

x-posted: Borderline

Gorgonzola-Potato Soup

As I had a request for the recipe…. Here it is. Enjoy!

Gorgonzola-Potato Soup

1 onion – I use Vidalia or Sweet Onion

1 Tbsp butter

3 medium potatoes (e.g. Vivaldi or baking potatoes)
3 clove garlic
½ c. sherry – I use Taylor Dry or Golden Sherry (Good for Cooking)
2 ¼ c. vegetable stock
3 oz. gorgonzola or any blue cheese – I measure out about 3 level shotglasses

1-2 Tbsp Lemon Juice OR 1-2 Tbsp Sour Cream (whichever is more convenient)
salt, pepper to taste

Peel and chop the onions, peel and crush the garlic.
In a heavy-based pot, melt the butter, then fry the onion until translucent – about 12 min.
Peel and finely dice the potatoes. Add the garlic and potatoes to the onions and cook for another few minutes.
Deglaze with the sherry (Pour sherry onto potato/onion and continue to sautee making sure to coat thoroughly with sherry), leave to bubble for about 3 minutes, then add the stock.
Cook on medium to low heat until the potatoes are soft. This takes about 15 minutes but if the potatoes are easily crushed with a spoon then they are ready. Turn off heat.
Add the diced gorgonzola and leave to melt. Add lemon juice/sour cream. Puree in a blender or use an immersion blender.
Add salt and pepper to taste.

This soup is absolutely delicious. It seems like a lot of steps but it’s really pretty easy to make and soo worth it. Don’t go too heavy on the gorgonzola/blue cheese unless you are a HUGE fan of it. A little goes a long way.

**As an alternative to the lemon juice you can also use 1-2 Tbsp of sour cream. The last time I didn’t have sour cream, so I used lemon juice and it was devoured in a blink. I’ve done so many iterations of this recipe and they are both very tasty.

Weekend in Review: Trip Upstate

So this weekend the Lady Friend and I went upstate. She’s met the good majority of my NY friends but since she recently just moved back to my area of the state all of her friends are still back where she had gone to college. She really wanted me to meet her friends. As a consequence we had to go to them in order for me to do so.

I’ll admit I was not thrilled about the prospect. Not because I don’t want to meet her friends, but because the timing is really inopportune. I’m going on vacation shortly. I take the same vacation every year. It’s a large costuming event and  I need to finish sewing for it. The weather here has been absolutely unbearable though and since I have no AC it’s been extraordinarily difficult for me to get any sewing down (read: work up the motivation without dissolving into an angry puddle of sweat). I really needed the weekend to get stuff done but it was also the only weekend she’d have free for a long while as well. I should have said no, but I’m incapable of that apparently. Instead we compromised to go for Saturday and return Sunday. Oh, did I mention that I got to drive as well? She recently moved back in with her parents and her father didn’t like the idea of her taking her car upstate in the hot weather, and also refused to loan her one of his multiple other vehicles. Someone has control issues. Fortunately (?) my car works just fine. However, I also drive manual, which means I am the only one I know that can actually drive my car. Is driving stick a lost art? Is automatic just that much more common? Regardless, that’s how the day worked out.

We hit the road early and got into town for a late lunch at a delightful little organic deli. The food was fantastic and really hit the spot. Then we went across the street to do a little window shopping. I spotted an etched copper bracelet that I really loved but didn’t buy right away. I’m the kind of shopper that sees something (expensive) and goes about the rest of my day without purchasing it. If it’s still on my mind a few hours later, than I probably really want it and will go back.

So from there we decided spontaneously to go out to a couple wineries. The second winery wasn’t very good but it had a spectacular view being nestled back in the mountains. The first winery was amusing. We got there, and they were having some kind of event and were clearly understaffed. Eventually we started our tastings while listening to an open mic performer mangle some popular tunes. I will say though, the wine was really wonderful. Now, how this usually works is you take a look at the tasting menu, decide on the flight you want to try and pay accordingly. However, we also decided to purchase a bottle when we were done. When we went to have our flights and purchase rung up there was a problem with the register. The lady that runs the place was very nice and apologetic about the problem saying it would just be a minute. We had no worries at all as we had no place to be and were in very mellow moods (thanks in part to having just finished a flight of wine tastings). Her daughter comes over and is LOUD, abrasive, and condescending to her mother about what needs to be done for the register, the event, the this, the that…. It was like watching a reality tv show about a really obnoxious staten island princess. The mother was mortified and as a result we got our flights and our bottle of wine for free. Lovely! We made sure to tip her well. Lady Friend felt really bad for her. I was just amused at the whole thing.

We eventually get back to town and I am still thinking about the bracelet, which I purchase… along with a relatively expensive necklace that is just so perfect for Lady Friend that I decide on impulse that she has to have it. Lady Friend isn’t used to having people do this sort of thing for her, and probably I shouldn’t be so impulsive but what’s done is done and she loved the necklace. I’m not sure where this falls in terms of the relationship spectrum. What does buying jewelry for your not technically official girlfriend mean?

Then we went out for coffee (read: tea) to meet a friend, then off to dinner at a lovely gourmet teahouse to meet another. Again, fantastic food. Really, really delicious. Aaaaand her friend is Sith. We geeked out over Star Wars through most of dinner which was hysterical as Lady Friend refuses the obsession. From there we went a walk around town to a really old cemetery. I love cemeteries. The older the better. They’re so peaceful and beautiful. Then to a wine bar for more wine and chatting… then to more rowdy bar to play pool, I needed food, and get them more drunk (I was driving and needed to sober <~~~ Check it out being responsible).

It was weird. I felt very out of place the entire time. Maybe that’s just how people feel when they meet people they have no real knowledge of. This is not my element. Probably it was more due to the fact that I really didn’t want to be there. All the individual elements added up to a pleasant time, but the time seemed to drag on forever. I had something of an anxiety in the pit of my stomach just trying to fill up the empty spaces of time with things to do, words to say. It felt very forced. Maybe the timing was just bad, maybe this is just a transitionary relationship… I feel more detached than ever.

We woke up Sunday. I had bad dreams. Very bad dreams. I talk about my Evil-Ex occasionally. These dreams were about The One that affected me worse. It was so long ago I just wasn’t prepared for random dreams, emotions, and thoughts that I had since buried and moved on from. This put me in something of a funk all morning. I just wanted to lose myself in my head and think, ruminating on dreams, situations and scenarios. Iterations of things that have happened, might happen in the future, or may never ever occur but I played them out anyways. The Lady Friend wanted to go for a walk over the Hudson though, so this encroached on my destructive introspection.   She knew why I was so quiet but I felt bad for not being more entertaining while at the same time having absolutely no desire to be entertaining. I think I’m just not a very good girlfriend. I’m so preoccupied sometimes that I can’t always be concerned with what other people need.

Finally we made our trip back home. We did do a lot of talking during the drives. I haven’t yet told her explicitly that I’m BPD, but I’ve touched on almost all of the major aspects of my disorders. She seems to be very receptive. Idk. I’m not ready. So we hung out at my place, watched movies, she wrote/drew, I sewed/crafted and made my favorite Gorgonzola-Potato Soup. Seriously. This soup is phenomenal. I love it.

It was also my dad’s birthday so I gave him a call. I love my father. He says things like, “If it wasn’t for your mother, I’d be a political assassin b/c it’s the only way to get people to listen,” and “Republican “Christians” are destroying America. If Christ were alive today and living in America, he wouldn’t be Christian”. How can you claim to follow the teachings of Christ, and then support government programs that direct money into the pockets of the rich instead of investing in your fellow man? My dad’s an atheist. Talking to him is always fun.  

Oh what a weekend. I need a weekend off from my weekend off. This week I’m starting a cleanse, starting Middle Eastern Dance again, sewing, painting, crafting, more sewing…. Let’s see how much I can cram into a couple days, shall we?

Red Sky Dawns

This was my first submission to the Expressive Arts Carnival. I really love this painting.

Expressive Arts Carnival

Last month I started doing the activities for the Expressive Arts Carnival. The Expressive Arts Carnival was founded to bring survivors of abuse together through expressive arts activities. I love the concept of this entire endeavor. This months activity I don’t really have heroes but   This month I pulled inspiration from a poem I wrote back at University about my father.

Here’s the poem:

My Brown Eyes

Daddy’d rush in after skin scalding days,

Sweat and sunscreen scents clung to sun faded jeans.

Grass stained denim and dirt traded for charcoal, oil paints,

And fine plaster spread on the red living room carpet.

He’d pose me, just so, leaving big charcoal fingerprints

That cover half my shoulders; I’d leave them there all day.

Through throw back ‘70’s specs he’d gauge--

Scritch scratch scratch – gray charcoal smears white

Well past the time my tiny toes start to tingle.

My little neck craned to glimpse the drawn picture,

But with a sharp look I’d stand straight and still,

My jaw clenched so serious not to mess up. Daddy’s

Lips would curl and twitch, charcoal dropped and quick

Tickled to see me smile, laugh and squirm with no

Defense practice sparring; right jab, reverse, hook,

Light contact force fast feet for a challenge

His worn tennis shoe taps my rear foot, pivot.

A slight crooked smile then quick jerk grabs

My lead hand against dropping my guard,

Then steps on my toes to send me down tumbling.

My butt bruised, his grin widens as next time I shift back.

Throwing jabs I can block, my playful yelps cut the

Silence as he waits in the old oak rocking chair.

I ascend the stairs slowly to not make a sound;

Caught -- his half missing finger tap-tapping the arm.

My mom’s eyes are hazel; dad’s eyes are brown,

Unblinking, our eyes reflect, glares bulge,

To burst like the little blue vein above his right eye.

Rising, no one overshadows his 5 foot 10 frame.

A quiet rumble at first, then the ocean roars in his voice.

I shirk for a second then stand squared to face him

From opposite living room corners I scream my defense.

No tears tolerated or shed with tension spread

Thick Jif toast and orange juice made for our breakfast.

His rough, calloused hand raises my chin,

Big bear arms encircle my shoulders

Squeezing me tight, his prickly beard

Rests on my head --

Before he lets go.