The more time passes, the more and more distant I become to some of the people that have briefly stayed in my life and made deep grooves in this hardwood heart.  Some have polished, some have varnished, even some have tried to whittle away but only a few have truly carved a deep impression to give shape to this solid block of a person I have been.

These courageous people; courageous because they know they have to tools, they know the strength of their instruments, the sharpness and the gentle ease  it takes to create these forms and the delicacy of the human who’s fibers are being splintered to shape.

…..and the block may not always comply, the weathering of difficult seasons have knotted or varied the grains, the layers but the time and patience taken to navigate these ridges give rise to the natural veneer beauty underside. 

I know I was loved.  The time taken and spent.  The attentions to the details that are so necessary with humans.  I know these ones, these keepers of the sharpest tools by one trait or two.  Certain voices I can’t sand away.  Certain smiles I can’t varnish over.  Even though they are long gone, I know I was loved by the carvings they made.   Thank you.

I leave for Berlin in a week.  I will be there for one full week.  This is my first trip abroad.

Something has gotten into me lately, or maybe it is just me finding my true self again, either way, I have been feeling fantastic.  I came to some serious realizations right around my birthday and clarity over-swept the dusty cobwebs that were my previous goals, my fruitless dreams.  Living in my immediate space and time took over living for and in the light of the future I imagined.  Even back in January, I don’t think I would have been in the right mental framework to take an unplanned, unfunded trip to Germany.

I wish I could take more time and had more money, I would travel all of Europe but I am not complaining.  This is going to be exactly what I need and good traveling practice.  My friend who is over there even said that she might not be around at the time of my visit but offered me her flat at no charge.  I was mentally preparing for a trip to a foreign land, a big city all alone.  Turns out she will be around for about half my stay which is glorious because she is an amazing person and exhudes a warm, positive energy that is highly contagious.  She was home visiting in March and just spending a little time with her really set me on the right course.  What an impact, what an amazing person.

I will have one week to get to know Berlin with maybe a day-trip to Dresden.  From just a couple photos, I am mesmerized by Dresden.  I hope I can make it there.

I have been living as cheap as possible for the last month and I am tired of being frugal and not being able to enjoy the daily things like grabbing dinner and a beer at The Red Eye with a friend.  I have been missing out on some really great shows because I can’t swing a cover charge right now.  A little part of me can’t wait to have a great Berlin experience but come home to some idea of normalcy.  I miss my friends.  I miss being able to bring a well crafted dish to pass to my friends cook out.  And wine, I miss wine!  I also paused my ballroom dance lessons for the month.  All I have purchased this last month besides maybe 20.00 on one night out is food because it is the only thing I can justify buying (oh, and a Berlin travel guide) but my boredom has put me into this state of perpetual eating!  I had to go to the store to buy a lot of fruits and veggies because my appetite has been insatiable.  I don’t mean to sound ungrateful at all.  I am a very fortunate person.  I guess it simply means that I am happy with my life.  I have befriended some really remarkable people here in Wausau and I miss them because my wild hair has forced me into hermitage.

My only hope for this adventure is that it gives me the knowledge and confidence to travel more.  It is a big deal for me, not the destination so much as the personal milestone I have reached.  I have known quite a few that have traveled much more than I and I am in awe of them and envious only of their broader perspective. 

I hope to blog about my travels upon my return and maybe while there.  We will see!

In a few weeks I will be celebrating a birthday.  I stretch to call it a celebration, not because I worry about aging.  When I groan about my birthday, acquaintances are quick to jump on the “fear of aging” bit and then proceed to tease me for worrying about turning 29.  If it could only be so trivial.  So please allow me to explain.

As I had mentioned in a previous blog, a Saturn Return is supposed to be a time of great change in a person’s life, based on the position of ones sun sign in Saturn at the time of birth…or something to that effect.  (I am not well versed in the language of Astrology.  I find it an interesting concept that ties nature and the supernatural together but don’t take stock in it.)  This time typically  occurs between the ages of 27 and 31 or 32 which places me smack dab in the middle of some  tumultuous whirlwind of confusion; searching for answers to questions that are not very clear to begin with.  I will not deny that this has been a quiet torment, this internal search for clarity on why everything simply feels either wrong or unfulfilling.

First I addressed my everyday woes, my laments, my grievances.  I have beaten them to death in my mind and in my heart and I will probably continue to do so to some degree.  It is natural look at things in retrospect and try to gain insight from the past, but nothing I was mulling over provided any discernment to my immediate tumult.  If anything, these thoughts just made me sad, which is a terribly unproductive emotional state to be in.

Recently I have been grieving the “loss” of a couple of my closest girlfriends.  For the last few months I have felt quite jilted by their disregard.  They formed a bond and I sensed a phase out almost immediately.  The very subtle jabs and snubs have been hurtful and peaceful attempts to share these feelings were met with unbelievable hostility.  Amends have been made but “girl-drama” still seems to loom and there is nothing I loathe more than catty girl drama and to not participate in it is agonizing however I almost did….tonight…then it all became intensely clear.

Approaching 30 is sort of a big deal.  I know that my elders would laugh at this and say “wait till you turn 50″ and so forth, but there is merit to any passage of time that ushers in a new stage of life.  Approaching the idea of saying goodbye to my 20’s is saying goodbye to a decade where it is completely natural and almost celebrated to be almost completely self-absorbed.  It seems funny how people-centric we are in our teens, when friendships are pinnacle, then as we search out our directions in our 20’s, friendships become mutual launch pads, good-times and networking.  The person I was at 22 or 23 is incredibly different than who I am now, only a few years later at 29. 

Another strange phenomenon about this period of time is that it feels like a full force, unstoppable progression that is happening at a pace that I can’t digest  constructively.  It is as if suddenly I can not understand the behaviors of those I considered my peers and there is a bit of resentment because I have not quite fit comfortably into my new clothes quite yet.  It is a painful adjustment as I try to make new friends as the old ones hardly even try and when they do, it seems contrived and strained.  I have made my efforts and I dealing with people who pretend to care only causes more sadness, which as I mentioned earlier, is an unproductive emotional state.  I would rather be happy and productive.  It’s not “all about me” anymore.  It is no longer allowed.

I heard my first rumble of thunder just moments ago and I was jealous.  The sky is capable and allowed to express itself without restraint and I am burdened with a frustration that I just can’t shake.  Thunder cares not of the consequence of it’s action or the foul weather it brings.  I want to make thunder, not just fill in the gaps of this meager existence.

Burza: Polish word for storm and often said by my great-grandfather.

I am trying to type but there is this purring cat underneath my arm.  He needs this affection and I need his companionship.  It is the holiday season, and the past couple months have been tumultuous.  I am both lonesome and tired of people at the same time.

Obligations to others, do they ever end?  I know this sounds awful and sounds like I am a terrible, selfish person but really the last couple months have been a codependent nightmare.  Relationships with friends, family, and other signifigants require time, effort, and energy but when does need turn into needy?  I have been unable to please everyone and friendships and relationships have suffered.   Perhaps  I am just being selfish because  others don’t see things the way I do.  Can my care not be implied?  Am I a bad friend if I don’t come to a friends rescue every time?  Am I a bad relative if I don’t call you every other day or don’t return a call because I am busy?   I have been struggling to take care of myself and my issues but have been so busy dealing with other peoples expectations of me.  Should I employ all my friends and loved ones for an hour to assist in filling out my flex spending paperwork for next year, I really need to get that done?

I have not been the kindest of people lately either.  I find myself rambling to friends, picking things apart and being quite snarky.  I don’t like being snarky, I don’t like being rude.  I have been rude and it seems that the only way to make up for my behavior is by fulfilling more obligations!  Aaaack!

I feel selfish.

I feel terribly selfish.

I feel like I can’t do anything that I want or would like to or need to do.

My immediate circle, I love them all but I need for them to back off a bit and fend for themselves.  If this does not occur I will need to fall off the grid which involves shutting off my phone, not responding to emails and retreating to someplace out of town where no one will know of my whereabouts.

I am reminded of one of my favorite Talking Heads songs, No Compassion.

Link to song on Last.fm  http://www.last.fm/music/Talking+Heads/_/No+Compassion

Lyrics:

In a world

where people have problems

In this world

where decisions are a way of life

Other people’s problems they overwhelm my mind

They say compassion is a virtue, but I don’t have the time

So many people…have their problems

I’m not interested…in their problems

I guess I’ve…experienced some problems

But now I’ve…made some decisions

Takes a lot of time to push away the nonsense

Take my compassion…Push it as far as it goes

My interest level’s dropping, my interest level is dropping

I’ve heard all I want to, I don’t want to hear any more

What are you, in love with your problems?

I think you take it…a little too far

It’s…not so cool to have so many problems

But don’t expect me to explain your indecisions

Go…talk to your analyst, isn’t that what they’re paid for

You walk, you talk…You still function like you used to

It’s not a question…Of your personality or style

Be a little more selfish, it might do you some good

In a world where people have problems

In this world where decisions are a way of life

Other people’s problems, they overwhelm my mind

They say compassion is a virtue, but I don’t have the time

(Here we go again)

I had my alarm clock set for a Sunday morning.  I can’t remember the last time I set my alarm clock to wake me on a Sunday morning!  These are rare moments, that day of the week held sacred by soft pillows, body heat infused blankets, and only leaving the comfy confines when the body is fully ready to approach the day.  My alarm went off and it was okay, actually it was more than okay.  I was on my way to my first Packer game.  It’s about time right.

 Armed in layers of any color other than navy and orange,  dangerous with some gas station java and a disappointing breakfast sandwich (acquired only because I was running late trying to put together my warm, not get my ass kicked outfit because I actually own a lot of orange), my co-worker and I hit Hwy 29 east to Green Bay to see the pack attempt to annihilate the Bears.

Considering that this was somewhat a business related outing, better behavior was encouraged.  Upon arriving to the madness that is tailgating I wished I could be joining in on the debauchery but in a way I am glad that I couldn’t be slamming beers before noon because I was able to take in much more.  The elaborate outfits, the various ways of teasing the other team, and the history that is Titletown.

We did end up having a beer before noon but it was at our seats.  We were seated about half-way deep in the bowl in the section above the Packer’s tunnel.  It is absolutely true when people say that there isn’t a bad seat in Lambeau, and the skybox people, you can have them.  I was thrilled to be in the stands and I don’t think I would ever want to view another game there in any other way.

I must admit though, that it was not until recently in my life that I gave two beans about football and then it is only the Packers.  I used to be quite a non-football fan actually.  When I told my brother I was going to a Packer game, he pretty much laughed and said “You going to a football game is like me going to a Celine Dion concert.”  The comparison was funny, however I am not a Celine Dion fan.  I then proceeded to remind him that he did attend a Deborah (Debbie) Gibson show in Mpls. but it was out of novelty.  I don’t know whom the joke ended up on.

Of course the crowed was energized, good natured and fun loving.  Even the twenty-something male Bears fans sitting next to us were being snarky in a good-humored way.   The roar of the crowd when the team came out of the tunnel, the start of the game, the commercial breaks, the desperate need for a hot cocoa and a slice of pizza 3rd quarter,  and the touchdowns!  The Pack kicked Chicago’s windy city booty.  I could not have asked for a better game to attend and my ex-wannabe hipster ass was quite elated.  The game seemed to go so much faster when actually there.  It was certainly an unforgettable experience and I have many pictures and a foam noodle to remind me.  In the meantime I hope my brother has a nice time at a Celine Dion concert, maybe he will get tickets for Christmas!

Upon leaving Lambeau Field, I did have this sentimental feeling of having some sort of connection  with Wisconsin.  I don’t think it was so much of pride as it was more as if I officially became a citizen of a state which I lived in my entire life, actually,  I think that was just me being frozen at the home of Frozen Tundra.  Go Pack Go! The Bears Still Suck!

I have reconnected with my natural art, the one thing I may not know, but understand and feel on levels  I can hardly dare to write about because writing has been my far second interest to dance, the art of movement.

I was fortunate as a kid to have the biggest bedroom in the house which meant that there was a lot of room to dance  around to various 80’s pop hits.  I was getting crazy to Katrina and the Waves, Whitney Houston,  “Freeway of Love” by Aretha Franklin among so many others.  I remember cranking my tiny pink boombox to the Dirty Dancing and Cocktail soundtracks whenever I knew my parents wouldn’t notice and I would let loose in my own private bedroom dance studio.  I was an early, early fan of Michael Jackson and the subsequent videos from the Thriller and Bad albums.  I can only imagine now how silly I must have looked  bopping around in florescent colored sweaters and frizzy permed hair (thanks mom), but I am guessing that the silliness changed upon the release of Janet Jackson’s, Rhythm Nation, 1814 album.  That album, I think I could safely say, changed the course of my life, but I didn’t realize it because I was only 10. 

Of course, being the MTV age, I remember the video for the title track.  Janet and her back up dancers doing the most stellar moves I had ever laid my eyes upon.  I was captivated as they danced in robotic unison (without doing “the robot”)  in the black and white industrial setting.  I wanted to be a Janet Jackson’s back up dancer.  Much to my dismay, they were not looking for any 10 year old girls with frizzy permed hair and a collection of slap bracelets.

Without going into the deepest depths of my history of dance, I will keep the past short and sweet.  I took a couple years of tap dance lessons at the expense of my grandmother.  That was very sweet because it was not an expense my parents could either afford or justify.  I choreographed a dance for my 6th grade talent show.  It was a Bette Midler song.  I did not get picked to perform which may have been a blessing from my teachers because I would have probably been severely teased as soon as “Ms. Otis Regrets” blasted through the sound system.   I was the weird girl at school dances that could do all the most popular dance moves of the time which was not really cool in the early 90’s in Central Wisconsin, then ushered in the rock and grunge years where I bobbed my head and hair around more than danced, but I was still moving.  After that came the rave years which was like beacon light of happy thoughts and danceable beats  through the fog of distortion, musical angst and depression.  I remember when techno music actually infused itself within my muscles and bones.  Old friends witnessed it, and suddenly I just danced a style like I had never seen.  I just did it and kept doing it and entertaining fellow party goers occasionally until the scene became unhealthy and I grew out of it.

I grew out of something but into nothing.  That is the last 4 years I am currently trying to rewind;  an idleness and lackluster that crept into me and festered. 

So a while ago I was contacted by someone on Myspace who was looking for a dance partner in the line of ballroom dancing.  It sounded fun however I was exploring other avenues at the time.  I showed and interest and then brushed it off.  I was recently contacted again and decided to jump on the soul train and even though I have a lot to learn, this big part of my existence has been illuminated.  It is human nature to enjoy most the things one is good at or be good at the things that one enjoys the most.  I have not been so excited for something in a long time.  I am notorious for trying new hobbies and then losing interest quickly or perhaps it is just quickly realizing something is just not for me.

Four or more years of feeling undefined, or in the blog world, “uncategorized.”  I wasn’t a mother, or a student, a triathlete,  or a nurse, an activist or a wife.  As much as I rallied against labels as a cusp Gen-X teenager, I was suddenly searching for them in adulthood as I increasingly became disassociated with my peers.  I tried to find things, little things to define myself.  Little things I could share with others that would give them a window into my true self as opposed to the ones that they had to assume because I had so little tangible traits to share.  Here are some of these things:

• I open cupboard doors and drawers and then neglect to shut them.
• I will watch a movie and read a book and forget what they are about within a week.
• When I am spending time outdoors, walking/hiking/geocaching, I prefer to be alone but I don’t mind sharing that time with others.
• I continue to dislike Swiss cheese.  I try it about once a year.
• Tubing is about the only winter hobby I can do besides slipping and falling on my bum.
• My internal clock is frighteningly accurate.
• ….which naturally makes me anal about punctuality.
• Drawing the curtains at night brings me great joy and satisfaction, like I am saying goodnight to the world and it is respecting my privacy.
• I have 2 sets of demitasse cups and saucers but no espresso maker.
• I did not read all the books on my bookshelf, but I meant to.
• I love doing laundry but hate putting it away.
• I miss having a close guy friend or occasionally being “one of the guys.”
• I have no idea where all these health and beauty aides came from.  Hair products, facial cleansers etc.
• Night Owl.
• I have a fear of getting physically lost but have grown quite comfortable being lost within.
• I fantasize about being able to play a violin naturally, as if I was born knowing.  That would be my super power.
• Who else had to eat buckwheat pancakes as a kid?
• I was once compared to Annie Hall.  That seemed fitting.  Currently applicable?… unknown.
• My first childhood heartthrob was John Cusack in “The Journey of Natty Gann” 
• I love baths but I can’t stay in them for very long.
• Some “things” I wanted to be growing up:  Back-up dancer or dancer of any professional sort besides stripping, FBI Agent, Journalist or Writer of some sort, Frontier Woman.

So now I begin learning the Waltz, Foxtrot, Samba, Tango, Swing, Cha Cha, among many others.  I don’t expect any of this to come easy, but so far it has come a bit naturally.  Suddenly something feels aligned.  This is so cool.

By no means have I ever been a bona fide health nut, but I was never a big junk food eater when I lived alone.  I never purchased potato chips and very infrequently would buy soda.  Even then, it was a two liter bottle that was flat within 2 days.  Since I have lived with this very kind and generous person I have “discovered” the Doritos on a number of occasions and had a chomp fest.  Soda, still not a dietary staple in my refrigerator, has crept around for me to have more often than normal.  I am surrounded by Peanut M&M’s and other chocolate baubles that I really don’t even enjoy that much.  I would rather spend a little more on my favorite imported chocolate treat (Hanuta cookies from Germany are my favorite) and savor every scrumptious bite than pig out on handful after handful of M&M’s, or enjoy a glass of wine over a can of Diet Dew.  One night my brain clicked into desperate snack mode, I don’t know if it was stress or hormones but I ate almost an entire bag of crunchy Cheetos while staring at the television.  I washed the orange mark of shame from my  right hand and felt  disgustingly ill the next day.

As for the junk food, it is something I will easily get over.  It won’t be in my cupboards, it won’t be in my stomach.  It is funny because, almost instinctively, I don’t go down that aisle in the grocery store.  The one change I question the most is cable TV.  I believe that only once in my adult life have I had cable TV in an apartment and it was only because it was included.  I was sublimely oblivious to TV that it felt good to not be in the “Dancing with the Stars” conversation in the office.  I knew to turn the TV on in time for Antiques Roadshow and Grey’s Anatomy.  It was only this past year I discovered the joy of DVR and OnDemand.  And I know that this will sound terribly cliché, but the stations I favored most was A&E, Discovery, and History.  Even if I wasn’t watching, it filled the quiet loneliness of the house.  I will miss the next season of The Tudors and Big Love!  I will not be able to watch reruns of Beverly Hills 90210 when I am bundled under blankets, sick on the couch!!  When I want to be mad about something, I can’t turn on MTV for 5 seconds anymore for instant disgust and anger!!!   I will never again have a TV date with Guy Fieri from “Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives” again!!!!  Whatever shall I do!!!!

Mostly I can’t justify the expense of cable or satellite television.  You could heat a home for a month for what they charge.  I am going to pick warmth over Mythbusters, even though I enjoy Mythbusters , I am a crabby pants when I am cold.  Instead I will enjoy movies directly from my friends at Netflix where there is a dazzling array of documentaries, dramas, classics, foreign, indie, and chick flicks to enjoy while rekindling the joy of my peaceful, self-reflecting hobby of cross stitch.  Oh, and a book with hot cocoa!   This will be a fantastic winter without Cheetos and a huge Charter bill!

Someday I will graduate to downtown Chicago. Remember that tear-jerker commercial that was broadcast during the Olympics of the runner who finished the race, dead last limping, with the help of his dad? That will be me, rush hour traffic, downtown Chicago, me and my Garmin. It might just be legendary.

Another reason had my thoughts set on a GPS was the exciting world of Geocaching. I had heard about it on TV years back but didn’t quite understand the concept. Soon GPSr’s became more common place and it made sense. Geocaching is basically a game or hobby where people hide containers in public places and post the latitude and longitudinal coordinates on the website www.geocaching.com. Containers range from micros, not much larger than a capsule, to 5+ gallon pails. All containers usually have a log book, and depending on the size, various trinkets of little value to be traded. The basic rule is that if you take something, you leave something. Caches are placed and maintained by fellow cachers. Occasionally geocachers arrange meet and greets in town, the location is of course, posted in coordinates! If you want to know more about the game, please go to the geocaching.com website. It is very informative and make it easy to understand.

The best part of my first summer of geocaching was discovering all the great parks Wausau, Schofield, Rothschild, Mosinee, and Merrill have to offer. I have lived here nearly my entire life and I was clueless to many of parks, walking trails, fishing holes and nature reserves that are accessible to the public. I found my first geocache is Gaska park which is located in the Weston area, a park I had never heard of. Gaska park has a great some great walking/biking paths and is a peaceful escape.

My favorite quote of the summer would have to be one I saw on a ‘calling card’ in a local cache, “I use an 80 billion dollar satellite system to find tupperware in the woods.”

Let’s get together and talk about the modern age.
All of our friends were gathered there with their pets
just talking shit about how we’re all so upset about the disappearing ground.
As we watch it melt….

It’s all of the good that won’t come out of us
and how eventually our hands will just turn to dust,
if we keep shaking them.
Standing here on this frozen lake.

I do this thing where I think I’m real sick
but I won’t go to the doctor to find out about it
Cause they make you stay real still in a real small space
As they chart up your insides and put them on display.
They’d see all of it, all of me, all of it.

All the good that won’t come out of me
and all the stupid lies I hide behind.
It’s such a big mistake
lying here in your warm embrace.

Oh, you’re almost home.
I’ve been waiting for you to come in.
Dancing around in your old suits going crazy in your room again.
I think I’ll go out an embarrass myself by getting drunk and falling down in
the street.
You say I choose sadness
that it never once has chosen me.
Maybe you’re right…

Let’s talk about all of our friends who lost the war
And all of the novels that had yet to be written about them.

It’s all the good that won’t come out of them
and all the stupid lies they hide behind.
It’s such a big mistake
Standing here on this frozen lake.

It’s all of the good that won’t come out of me
And how eventually my mouth will just turn to dust
If I don’t tell you quick.
Standing here on this frozen lake.

~End~
I didn’t quite know how to begin blogging here at Citizen Wausau. After being pestered by Dino and after meeting Cheryl and Billie (who are, by the way, so fun, interesting and sweet) at the Fillmore, I thought there must be some great people here and maybe I should get involved. I recently realized that I don’t know too many people anymore, or at least people with whom I share some common ground. After about 4 years of unintentional self-isolation, or more appropriately, trying to build a life I always pictured for myself and not being successful, it is time to try again at the life I do know.

I was informed over a year ago by one of my dearest friends David that I would be approaching some major changes in my life. He has been studying astrology for over 10 years, so as any good friend would do, he informed me of my looming “Saturn Return.” This magical time in one’s life around 28-32 where Saturn has arrives in the same sign that it was in when you were born. Apparently Saturn represents monumental change in one’s life and if one is not prepared for their “Saturn Return,” it can be a very tumultuous and confusing time.

I was never prepared.

If I believe in it at all or not makes little difference.

I do, occasionally, have things to say. This forum will certainly be inspiring and will force me to be a more articulate as well as conscientious. This is why I began my first Citizen Wausau blog entry with the wonderful little Rilo Kiley ditty; I will let the lyrics do the talking just a little before “my mouth will just turn to dust.”