Someone Flushed the Line

Since last Thursday, I had been getting progressively grumpier, and for no known reason I could think of.

I was relieved to have withdrawn my application from a gorgeous studio in Jersey, because even though I was having great fantasies of luxuriating beneath my huge windows on my red sofa while my cat, Shade, played happily in the large open space in what was once the headquarters for the Black Panthers (true fact), the commute was really going to be a bitch, and there was something not-quite-trustworthy about the landlords, I felt.

Turns out, they took a partial deposit that they shouldn't have, and cashed the check when I withdrew my application.  I've already threatened an Attorney General complaint if I don't receive my money back 'by Wednesday', and the complaint is all filled out and ready to go, so I really feel it's taken care of, one way or the other, so I don't think that's the source of my crankiness.

I love snow, and was thrilled with the pile we got dumped on us.  I enjoyed long walks in the winter wonderland of Central Park over the weekend, the company of friends and the warmth of my apartment, now that the heat's back on.

I have also become grateful for my living situation, finally, because it's ridiculously cheap, one of the quietest places, if not THE quietest, place I've ever lived, the location is choice and as far as roommates go, I can live with the dynamics I've got.  Plus, last night Shade had a mouse for dinner.  I was very worried for his mental state, being locked in my room for most of the day and all.

I was just about to sit down to my free range, humanely raised, organically fed chicken when I saw Shade chewing on something.  I thought it was a piece of the mat that he 's been tearing up trying to open the door when I'm gone.  Something was hanging out of his mouth, string like.  I said 'WHAT? did you get into' and pulled on what turned to be the tail of a pretty thoroughly chewed up field mouse.  Gag.  That one will stay with me for sense memory.  Forever.

Anyway, I honestly can't figure out what it was that was making me want to act like a three year old and stomp my feet and pump my fists while I screamed at decibels opera divas only dream of.  I even contemplated that it was a lack of vitamin K, because I had run out of my spirulina supplement.  However, starting last night, after making snarky comments at Joan Rivers (WHAT?! did she do to her face?  Alien!) on her snide little, judgmental show Fashion  Police, the density in my sternum seems to be lifting.

If you have a cat, you know the feeling of having them arise from your chest, or stomach and the breath of the feeling of weightlessness that follows.  That is the feeling I have this morning.

As well, I seem to be reconnected to my creative spirit in a way I've been waiting for and leaning towards.  There are pieces of music that I've had on the back burner, some of them since I was a teenager, to choreograph.

For my train ride this morning, I chose an attitude of intentional solitude - I'll mind my business and you can mind yours.  When you're an empath, it is very challenging to not feel the edges of the emotional morass that is the air on a subway car.  Sometimes directing one's focus to music is helpful.  So, I put on Suzanne Ciani's Rain, a lovely piano piece that sounds much like it's name in a playful and soothing composition.  This is also on of my back burner pieces.

As I came up to the platform on my transfer to the downtown 1 Train, I started stepping into the choreography I have started on this composition.  It's simple notation, nothing flamboyant.  The thrill of this piece will be in the juxtaposition of movement, not in any great acrobatics.

I was hit with the energy of creativity and potential, and ideas were exploding in my head and making my heart sing.

I noticed a woman, peripherally, sitting on the nearby bench.  She was sending me a negative, judgmental vibe, a vibe I'm all too familiar with in power play situations; auditions, interviews.  I was able to deflect it and reject it, like brushing away a fly.  This was an epiphany.  The veil was lifted, I was able to envision a freedom of expression in audition and creation situations that I have been working towards.  These moments never come about the way you expect them to.

And now, the choreography is soaring.  I'm absolutely giggling with delight at what I'm coming up with, including a motivation to book a studio and get some dancers in there STAT!

Stepping off of the train I am wondering what has changed in the stratosphere, atmosphere, biosphere, cosmos to open this energy pathway.  "Somebody flushed the line", I think.

It is also possible that this is some of the continuing effect of a process I submitted myself to a year ago.  It is something called a 'Light Activation'. (Yoko at this studio in Chelsea did mine  Life Activation It is a process done by an energy worker with techniques based on the wisdom of Solomon.  There were attitudes and beliefs woven into the fabric of my atoms that have changed and evaporated, been revealed and released, since I participated in this process.  The intention of a light activation is to make room for more light in your DNA.  I didn't really think too much about the process after I underwent it.  I only know the enlightenment I'm experiencing feels like a big deal, and I don't really have anything else to attribute these kind of attitude changes to.

Other than: someone flushed the line...

That annoying propensity to be *sigh* Human

My Bestie, Danyelly, is coming into town tonight for a friend's birthday and I'm meeting them after work for karaoke (pronounced Kail-A-Oh-kay) so I needed to get a little fancy today. Also, it's around twenty-degrees-fahrenheit degrees today, and we have two gaping holes in our apartment awaiting attention. I recently picked  up a little Holmes space heater that works tremendously well.

The space heater was working it's little blower off, warming my room nicely, and I plugged in my hair dryer to the surge protector, thinking "I probably shouldn't plug both of these in." Apparently, I should have drunk more of my morning coffee before attempting to work with electrical appliances, because that thought got stuck in pre-caffeine brain matter. Of course, part of my adventurous self was wondering what would happen, since I've been really careful about unplugging the 12.5 amp heater so as not to blow a fuse. Curiosity won, I turned the dryer on and everything shut. Off. completely.

I tried to mess with the fuses, to no avail, and again there was a little niggling voice whispering "It's not the fuses," that was ignored. There are only three fuses in our fuse box. One of them was obviously not for my room since it shut off the kitchen when I removed it, one didn't do anything new when I changed it, and the other we had no spare for.

I was going to leave it and just buy a 20 fuse at some point during the day so I could try the one we didn't have a replacement for, but when I went to get water out of the pitcher in the fridge, the fridge was dark. One can't leave a refrigerator without power, even in 20 degree weather with two gaping holes in the ceiling. The apartment is chilly, but I don't think it's down to forty degrees.  Yet. Plus, the stuff in the freezer would never survive.

Did you know there's a little black reset button on the end of your surge protector???? Neither did I!! So who can blame me?!, really, for going and pounding on the super's door to help me?

Victor, our super, and I have a really good relationship. He misguidedly wanted me to be his girlfriend, and despite a small language barrier, I was tempted. A little bit. He's also twenty years younger than me, which he swears is not a deterrent, but I think he may be a little impulsive in that area.

Anyway. I wake Victor up, and he says he'll help me in a minute. I'm late leaving for work at this point and a bit panicked. Lesson number one: Never Panic. It never turns out well.

I waited about three minutes. I went back and knocked, rapidly and a lot, on Victor's door again. I'm like, "C'mon! I'm late for work!" I'm getting pushy; trying not to; failing. He protests that he must get dressed and I tell him to just throw on a t-shirt. He finally appears out of his apartment and goes in search of the fuse.

He comes in and checks the fuses, changes a couple, puts them back.  He comes in my room and does something to the surge protector and everything starts humming. "I'm gonna kill you" he says.

"I did that!" I cry in self-defense. "I turned it on and off multiple times!"

"You know about the black button?" he says.

I bend down and look at the top of the surge protector and see that there is a black reset button. Oy.

"I'm sorry!" I hold my face in embarrassment. "I'm so so sorry! I'm Sorry Victor!" I am effusively apologetic. He smile/smirks at me. "It's ok" he says. "You're late for work," he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

"I am. SUPER late."

I'm gonna have to bake something for Victor.

Luckily, no one was at work when I arrived fifteen minutes late, even though the train was just pulling out of the station when I arrived, which has been happening every. single. day. for about two weeks.  It doesn't matter what time I leave the house.  I can hear it when I'm coming down the stairs into the station; pulling in, Mocking me.  I can't run for it because I have peroneal neuropathy which is triggered when I run down stairs.    It is another lesson in not being attached to events you can't control because my connecting train always arrives just as I am stepping on to the platform.  Here is a great parable about these kinds of things:  Morning Meditation

In the past I would have spent the remainder of the day beating myself up and planning what to do to make it up to Victor. Age and disappointment have jaded me, for the better, I think, because now I'm just really happy everything's working, that I know now how to fix any power surge outages, and no one was here when I came in.

The lesson of stay calm and don't get dramatic is emphasized and maybe learned. Maybe.

I am a little bit fancy and ready for karaoke (Kail-a-oh-kay) and will be able to be warm when I get home tonight.  (I used the socket in the kitchen to blow dry my hair).  Stay calm and Improvise.Fuses, blow dryer, space heater, fancy, lessons, lesson, meditation, chilly, fahrenheit, freezer, refrigerator, sure protector, panic

BubbleFlu Symphony

Who has the flu?!  "I do! I do!"

Just like that gum commercial in the 70's; "Who wants gum?"  "I do! I do!"  Isn't this fun?

I'm improvising a humidifier at work.  I work in the driest office in the city. I'm pretty sure that, not only is there no moisture in the air but, there is a sucking effect as the molecules of water are drawn out of my skin, like in those nature show time-lapse sequences where you watch a desert oasis dry up and crack as the dirt pulls away from itself to reveal a craggy, thirsty landscape.  That's my face right now.

This improvised humidifier consists of an electric teapot, placed under my desk and let to boil until the water is gone.  It is LOUD.  and noisy.  And loud and noisy and bubbly.  I'm sure it is annoying to the attorneys outside of whose offices I sit.  It annoys me, and it's causing me stress that it might be annoying them.  But it is too dry for me to shut it off.  And the steam feels sooo gooood.


Do they know that I have it bubbling because I'm sick?  Can they possibly know the truth of my illness, that I am exhausted all the time.  Can they see that one day, when I expire from exhaustion, they will shake their heads sadly at the tragedy, at the sacrifices I made to continue to be a stalwart employee and be at my desk, rain or shine, snow or wind, in sickness and in health?  Will they admire my commitment and work ethic and wipe away a tear as they recall my selflessness and purity of heart?

Or will they just be like, "Thank god we don't have to hear that stupid bubbling pot!  Yeesh!"

Bubble burble bubble bubble toil and trouble cauldron bubble burble bubble bubble.

Wait.

Stillness.

Blurp.
Blurp.

Bubbleblurblebubblebrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr  Bubble.

I'm hungry now.  When I have a cold I get really, ravenously hungry.  Rawr.  That's my stomach.  Burble.  Rawr.  I think I'm going to write the flu symphony.

Rawr. Burble brrrrrr bubb Rawr.  Burble.  Brrrrrrr.  Bubb.

Everybody. Sing with me now!