(the prayer of St. Francis is old and beautiful. This version, for it IS a version of sorts, is derived from the musical setting done by Fiona Apple. When I write it THIS WAY, the song plays in my head. (: )




Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.

where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

Lord and I would ask of you, that I may
not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love

for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned,
and it is in dying that we are born to Eternal Life.

Amen.


Even outside of a christian perspective, I believe one could see much of this as true...true in that it is right to seek to foster good things where it seems only painful, negative things are. Not that all the things listed are entirely negative...I would argue that doubt is as healthy and necessary as "faith," both in a spiritual sense and in a more general way. It shows an active, questioning mind to have doubts. It shows a person of conscience and curiosity. All good traits.

In general, though, I've lately been kind of ignoring my spirituality. My focus has been pretty narrow lately...I work hard. I do my best. I spend my free money on things for my dog, on sushi, on medications (apparently) and the application process for TSA. My free time is basically absorbed by interenetting, walks with my dog, playing with Chris and Teresa, and reading. A little tv, but not much. A little wow, but very very little indeed. I haven't supplied myself with much time for introspection...because by keeping busy I've been able to keep my mind mostly off any thoughts of self-pity or boohoos. Really, my health has been difficult lately, and whenever that goes then my mood gets pretty shitty on me. I caught the pig-sick at the beginning of October, and I only felt truly better after 2 1/2 weeks. My PCOS combined with a new birth control to give me a period that lasted a month and a half, so I recently chatted with an OB/GYN to get squared away with a new medication. It's been a real emotional rollercoaster, and I've been trying not to submit other people to it too much. Seriously, hormones. It's bad enough I have to deal with the random crying, angry outbursts, etc. So I've withdrawn some. I know I'll feel better once I finish this cycle and start the new meds.

I am exhausted by the TSA process. Earlier this week I realized how close my deadline is (Dec. 1st) and went to a few places and did some things to further the progress. I am only waiting on my primary care doctor to finish the rest of her paperwork and turn it into billings. I worry that after all the money, time and effort I've put into this process that they will simply reject me on the basis of my medical conditions. I would understand. I am not without my medical baggage. But I think I manage my conditions well. I am a hard worker. I am confident that I could do this job well, if only they would train and place me somewhere. Anywhere.

Despite keeping myself busy, my worried thoughts still sometimes turn to what I really want out of life. I just want to make art and sell it. That's all. Why am I not really doing that? Is it only fear? I am afraid of lots of things. But I am most afraid that at 30 I will still be working some job I don't care terribly about, no money to speak of in savings, no healthcare, and living with mom and dad. That is unacceptable. My current situation is pretty unacceptable too, but I try to keep my head high and look at the good things. I enjoy the company. I like the dogs. My room is comfortable and the meals are delicious. No rent. No utilities. Relative privacy.

But I am an adult. I'm 24. I want my own place, and I'm not too picky right now. The only way to do that is a better job...and the only one on the table is TSA. It might be Brussel sprouts, but it's still food...and maybe it'll be great once I'm in the thick of it.

Yesterday I was hired for a holiday position with Sears Portrait Studios at Washington Square Mall. I'm excited, and nervous, but mostly excited for the challenge of taking new pictures, new ways, and seeing a whole new age-group of smiles. God I love smiling, and having little kids smile back at me. It makes my life. It's what makes being a photographer one of the best jobs on the planet.

I've been writing a story about a werewolf that wants to be a book. It's writing itself in my head, and most of the time I spend driving, waiting in lines, etc is spent thinking about the plot and characters.

I'm trying to keep myself motivated and laughing at life. I feel balanced on the edge of a good long hermiting spell, but I'm trying to stay out of it. I get sad when I do that.

I hope that this "progress" in my life; with completing more TSA forms, with getting the new job, are all reality and not build up for an even bigger let down. I am trying to believe in myself.

I am trying.

- me

dreams for the night of Nov. 6th

Dream 1

I had been wandering a long time through the woods, and come upon this nice village. I thought the people were really charming, and they had a wonderful church that I started to attend. That one really enthusiastic televangelical preacher was the pastor, and I slowly came to realize that it wasn’t just a church, it was a cult where people were shunned if they didn’t attend, and kept strictly in line. Many feared for their lives or livelihoods’ if they didn’t do exactly as the pastor told them to. I grew furious, and rebellious. I stood up in the middle of the sermon and called out the preacher. He insisted that I could now no longer be part of their congregation and that I must leave the village. I remember shouting “fuck this shit!” and I said I wanted to go, that what they were doing was wrong. I tried to plead with many of the people as I left but they were too frightened to meet my eyes and the preacher was loudly preaching so that my words were drowned out. One little girl did speak to me, in earnest, but as she was too young to run away on her own I didn’t speak back to her, only smiled. If I had spoken to her it would have damned her in the eyes of the congregation. I gathered my things, and left, head held high and eager to see where the winds of fortune would take me. I felt really sad for the town, but that there wasn’t anything I could do for them and should just move on.

Dream 2

Sitting at a table alone, and my attention is at some point drawn behind me. There’s a guy sitting there, by himself, and he’s very handsome. He smiles kindly at me. Then he acts as though he has to go, because we’re the only two there, and he doesn’t want to intrude on my solitude. I assured him “oh no, please don’t go. You seem nice, and plus it doesn’t hurt that you’re so good looking.” He laughs at my candor and we settle in together and just chat. It’s nice to watch his face, but while I had my head down to get a forkful of food he begins to stutter on a word. Later he does it again, and he seems to be becoming increasingly nervous. I assure him that I don’t mind his stutter, that he can take as long as he needs to find his words. He is very embarrassed but he appreciates what I’ve said. We begin to talk about England, because that’s where he’s from. I say shyly that I am trying to save up so that I can go there, but that I only have 1000 dollars so far. He smiles at me, but not in a condescending way. Inside I berate myself for not being able to save more money than that at this point.
Suddenly someone in a different room is shouting the name Jeffery over and over again, as if they’re looking for someone. The guy I’ve been talking to looks like he wants to duck under the table, but I just laugh at him and go seek out the people calling his name. In a different, even fancier room a small personal table and chair have been set out, and a ridiculously extravagant meal laid out on it. To the left of the table is a manservant holding a red wine in his hands, to the right is a female waiter holding a main dish with its silver domed lid. Jeffery, the man I met, must be rich as all fuck! The help in the room look at me with sneering faces, and I go back to the room where Jeffery is, feeling contemplative.

Dream 3

In the depths of hell (which aren’t so bad, really, if you’re made of fire too). Many things happen but I can’t remember them. Mostly I remember that I have a viewing screen, and with it I can travel throughout hell. It has a button on it that lets me advance the screen one frame in whatever direction, and if you hold it down you move quickly, just like a movie, wherever you’d like to go. There is a creature in Hell that I am documenting, in a Wild Kingdom sort of way.

my plan for tomorrow:

wake up. Not as difficult as it usually is, I assume, as i am incomprehensibly tired RIGHT NOW and it's not even 2 am. You may say, "but that is quite late indeed." And oh, perhaps you are right. But you have not been living my voodoo twilight zone sleep schedule the last week or so, and 2 am seems like 10 pm to me! It's a relief. I think my sleep trouble has been aided and abetted by the forces of dust in my room...i lay down on my bed, and immediately STUFF UP. All up in my nose parts. Very unpleasant.

Following waking up (a very important step!) I plan to get up, clean myself, eat a small food item, and then clean my room. I want to clean my room...I look at it right now, and i think, "I can do better." Indeed, I CAN. I am 150% sure this will happen. SO, that then.

THEN buy mums for mom. (85% sure)

THEN purchase ingredients for...



...HOMEMADE BLACKBERRY OR CHERRY OR RASPBERRY ICECREAM.

now, climb aboard my train of thought here. I was visiting a lovely site I daily enjoy, The Pioneer Woman, and was instantly enamored with her blackberry ice cream. It doesn't help that she takes such luscious pictures. The ice cream just cried out to me in the language of ice cream, challenging me to master it, and then perhaps consume it. I am 65% I will make this happen. Why so low a percentage?

Weather.

It may be raining, and will at the least be drearily overcast. The last few days the weather has been icky warm. I'm not much one for the heat. At all. OH FIE! IF ONLY THIS ICE CREAM HAD CALLED TO ME EARLIER I COULD HAVE ENJOYED IT AND SCOFFED AT THE FURIOUS HOT SUN RAYS! But no. The ice cream has come to me now...and if it's just too cold and dreary, i might prefer a good blanket/book experience, or the company of my charcoals. But still...the ice cream. It has such a sweet siren song. And really, follow that link. JUST LOOK AT IT.

Here in the Ebacher house we have no fancy, machine-driven nonsense when it comes to our ice cream fabrications unit. All hand cranking. We WORK for our calories, and that's how we like it. Your arm is sore from all that cranking? You've been cranking for over an hour and a half now? Well good. Because your reward is nothing less than ice cream. Wouldn't electricity and laziness just take all the fun out of that? Don't argue with me. It would. So that's the workout I look forward to, if such plans come to fruition.

In other news I (with the assistance of my friend Brittany) cleaned the kitchen. Bleached the grout. Cleaned and organized glass, metal, tupperware and msc. cabinets. Tackled mountains of mugs. Scrubbed suspicious looking black spots. Rearranged kitchen magnets. Swept. Ultimately, I believe I was possessed by some deity of domestic order. It was hard work, but the satisfying result made my day.

Did I mention I baked blueberry muffins this morning, and made some seriously good oatmeal? I did that too.

IDK. I like this stuff.

- me