Today--baby steps

My goal today was to get the pictures ready for the State Fair competition. I thought I might want to submit a different one, so I spent some time resizing it and giving it an edge (to go under the mat) and printing it. Then I laid out my favorites from the one I had newly printed and the others I'd already printed and decided I wanted the one on the right middle rather than the one I'd just printed on the left middle. I vacilalated terribly and then went back to the original one on the top left. I framed it but discovered I am out of hanging hardware so I wasn't able to finish the job. Since I also have to cut mats and so on, I'm very disappointed in my progress. 

A Note to Molecular turtle on the event of a new Aquarium:

I used to raise guppies, very pretty.  Fancy ones!  Nice colors.

Mine met sad demises in a variety of ways. Once the heater malfunctioned and they all were boiled to death. Another time the tank developed a leak while I was on an extended trip and all the water leaked out, ruining the floor and rugs and desiccating the fish--speaking of which--one of their favorite things to do was to leap out of the tank at night and dry up sticking to the floor before morning.  The best part of that was the dreams I had, recurring dreams of them swimming in the air above the tank at night, venturing further and further away.  They had to be back by down or they'd fall to the floor and shrivel, but they were so eager to explore they sometime risked swimming too far through the air.

Freedom

By me, age 22, September 3, 1968  (Journal Entry)

I am reading Stand Still Like a Hummingbird by Henry Miller again.  In "When to Reach for My Revolver," he says, "[The Great artist's] idea of freedom is a life lived imaginatively."  YES!  OH YES!  That is good.  I have been wondering for years what freedom was, and now, I find an idea that comes close, somehow, to my own concept of freedom. {See page 37 of this record.}  I spent a lifetime looking for freedom, but it was always "freedom from."  I ran away form college, dropped out, went to NYC searching for freedom from restrictions.  I left NY looking for freedom from dirt, smells, filth, disease, smog, etc.  I left Peter because I wanted freedom from his control.  I must now search for "freedom to."  I want freedom to live life imaginatively, freedom to live my life in every sense of the word.  

from p 37:

July 6, 1965, age 19

People here are not communicating well.

THIS IS FREEDOM

this dirt, confusion, day to day living here at 212 E 7th street in NYC is freedom. Freedom from parental restrictions, almost complete freedom from the law, freedom from sex hang-ups and many other hang-ups, freedom to do what one wants, something so many people want.  But this is not freedom.  A new set of restrictions have been lowered to replace the old.  There is no freedom to do anything one wants.  Things cost money and we have none.  One is not free from hunger or free to eat as one pleases.  One is not free from work, for one must cook in order to eat, wash clothes in order to be clean,   One can eliminate all luxuries and live in pure simplicity, spend ones time eating, sleeping and cleaning up, but that assumes something to eat.  We have nothing.  This isn't good for me.  I want out.

--
I am certain of nothing but the Heart's affections and the truth of the Imagination- John Keats
Mary

One more box

I got one more box packed.  Erin and Bruce and Debbie and Mark are still working in the yard.  They've got a lot done.  I took some pictures between work sessions.

Me, age 22 (Self-portrait)

Monday, August 19, 1968

Look in the mirror, Mary.  What do you see?

A girl, in her early twenties, slightly overweight but not unattractive, tanned [but not tan enough], dressed in matching orange underwear covered by a ripped blue workshirt with a kief smoker on the back.  Hair in braids, dark eyes, flushed skin from dancing.

What about the face?

The face, sometimes almost lovely, sometimes ugly.  One eye Hindu Indian, one eye Italian.  [I like the Indian eye better].  Mouth slightly crooked, a slightly bitter twist, but soft.  Sometimes proud and defiant.  Sometimes sulky.

Bitter.  I don't want to be bitter.  Proud-looking maybe, but please, not bitter.

I don't want to be fat.  I would like to be slim, large, raw-boned, stark, not fat, flabby, wrinkly and bitter.  Please.  Not fat!   

The Possibility of a Perverse Universe

September 2, 1968, age 22

It seem logical to me that when people die, that is it.  They just cease.  But logic can be faulty.  In the light of new evidence, logicians, like scientists, may change their views.  There is no proof, at any rate, that the universe is logical.  It may be perverse.  It is almost as logical to suppose that there is life after death as to suppose there is not.  I would like to think (I think) that some part of us continues on because I don't like the idea of ceasing.  Yet, what if life after death is hell?  Wouldn't it then be better to just cease?

Mary Ciaranello (me)  (or was I Mary Schuschni then?)

The Purchase Offer

I don't think I've had time to mention that the day before yesterday I signed the purchase offer for the sale of my house to my daughter Erin (and my ex-husband Bruce who'll be helping her).  The big push is on.

bush trimming

Bruce and Erin are coming over to trim bushes.  I am going to go out and take some before pictures.  This may be the last time I see my house as it was when I lived here.  Though I agree the bushes need trimming.  I used to trim them more, but I need to spend my time packing and sorting, not trimming.

Beating the heat, not.

I was already 90 degrees when I went out to mow.  I hadn't had breakfast yet because I'd been busy with something else and wanted to mow as soon as possible.  It was 90 in the house too, but amazingly, the 90 outside felt cooler than the 90 inside because there was a nice breeze.  The mower started on the first pull and it only took me 33 minutes to mow the lawn--a hot 33 minutes, but the breeze helped.  There was less breeze in the back yard though. I was pretty hot by the time I finished but since I hadn't walked or mowed 45, I walked around two blocks.  Then I had some mail issues, and so at 12:30 PM, I haven't yet had breakfast, so I am going to do that next.  I want to work on the recertification papers, but I'm sweating so profusely I'm afraid the papers will dissolve in the sweat.  It's supposed to be record -breakingly hot today.  So, we'll see.  I considered going to work on the recertification at the Library, but I may need materials I don't have with me.

apricot salsa and fretta.

The other night, I made myself some apricot salsa.  I cut up a very ripe tomato in small bts and added some chunky apricot jam and pepper and spices and served it--to myself--with blue corn chips.  It was wonderful.  A sort of "girly" salsa fit for a queen.

Tomorrow morning, I am going to make myself a fretta. I was very sad to discover Serpicos had closed--they made the best frettas.  While I was at weggies I got a potato, an onion, a jalapeno, some hot sausages and some brocolli for my fretta.  I will use the southwestern eggbeaters for the base.