gypsygen

Late Morning

2009-03-02T19:07:52Z

It's quiet this morning. The rain patters outside, making even the sporadic sounds of traffic down the alley seem far away. Hot scones, clotted cream, lemon butter and a bowl of blueberry yogurt. Tea and Ray Bradbury. It's a good morning.
I've already gotten most of the way through organizing our bedroom closet - a job that's been hanging over my head since we moved in almost a year ago. Later, I'll move on to the hallway closet, and then to the laundry. I'll probably clean the kitchen.
I will do most of this in silence, just listening to the rain.
Tonight, Joshua and I will set of the birth tub in the sewing room, and someday soon, as Joshua said last night, it will be difficult to remember a time when Nugget wasn't in our lives.

My body is usually uncomfortable, just walking without discomfort gives me a rush these days. Sometimes I'm nauseous, getting pants on is a chore, and the ground gets farther away every day. And I love it. In some ways, I don't feel ready to not be pregnant. It's such a wonderful, difficult, mind-shifting experience. I've come to grips with the limitations of pregnancy - they are familiar to me now. The prospect of returning to my solo body feels almost like a loss. The prospect of entering into a lifetime of being a Mother is overwhelming. I can't wait to meet this child - to learn his or her loves and dislikes, hobbies, talents, weaknesses...

Sometimes I am utterly engulfed in joy, gratitude, and a greedy sort of need. I am addicted to the love that Joshua and I have shared every day for almost 7 years. When we got married, I worried that I was losing my freedom - the freedom to travel and adventure. Instead, I gained the ability to travel and adventure without the accompanying loneliness, and a home that is Home, rather than a figurative rest-stop. I gained a home that moves and talks and comes with me on these mad, exhilarating, and sometimes utterly domestic adventures.

My tea is getting cold, and Ray Bradbury is lonely on the living-room sofa. I think it's time to get back to relishing the quite, as life will soon be quite a bit louder.

My Journey to MILF-hood

2008-10-02T16:48:46Z

Many months ago, I found myself clinging to the side of a mountain, trying to ease the rising panic from both having crossed a mile of perilous track, and still having a mile left to go. I sat on the narrow trail, and I thought about how much I wanted to make it home. I used to adventure with a sense of invulnerability – not that I thought nothing could happen to me, but that it was fine if it did – killed in the line of duty, so to speak, was not so much of a threat. Now, however, I do not carry all that is important to me within myself. I have always loved living with an all-encompassing force, but now – now the future is as important as the present. My ties to the world extend beyond me, through me, to the life that Joshua and I have created together.

About a year before I went to Hawaii, my biological clock went haywire. I had dreams about babies, my eyes teared up when I heard babies cry, and my usual relief when my period started every month began to give way to a vague disappointment. It was strange how abrupt it was – yes, there had been signs beforehand, but my desire to have a child went from “absolutely, someday, in the far-distant future” to “ now, please” rather quicker than I had expected. Overnight, actually.

Not only did I want a child, for the first time in my life, I actually wanted to birth one. We had always planned on adopting – and if we should ever choose to have another, we will – but I was suddenly enthralled by the idea of, theoretically, being able to actually create and support life within myself. I have never been enraptured by the “miracle of childbirth”. I love children, but the idea of pregnancy and birth always seemed a little overwhelming, messy, painful, and unromantically biological. The image shifted last year – the idea of taking a little piece of Joshua, and a little piece of me, and creating a person entirely separate and individual – giving that person life within me – suddenly that did seem a little like a miracle.

We decided to try once I was out of school – Winter Solstice – to give this momentous, life-changing decision proper weight. Solstice came around, and so did my fear.

What if this changes our relationship?

What if this person doesn’t like us?

Will we still be able to travel?

Will I still be able to be an actress?

What if childbirth changes me?

So we put it off. We decided to see how we felt at Spring Equinox – to keep with our theme. The Equinoxes and Solstices gave us something more concrete to look to than arbitrary whim. We both wanted to be sure that we were making the right choice, and I had a tendency to feel one way in the morning, and another by night, so we needed a more concrete time frame – to both force a decision, and prevent a too-impulsive choice.

I was exhausted from school, full of anxiety and sorrow from some family issues that were becoming overwhelming, and needed to reset. Joshua recognized that I hadn’t been away in years. I needed to adventure – time to remind myself who I am and to interact with the world as a solo human being. So I ended up in Hawaii. On the side of cliff.

Sitting on that narrow trail – not too long before Spring Equinox, as it turns out – I thought about adventure, and life, and family, and, of course, babies. Two thoughts kept running through my mind. The first was that life, nature, just procreates. Whenever it can. There I was on a volcanic rock, in the middle of the ocean, and it was utterly covered in life. Bugs and birds fluttered around me, vines and flowers, Walking Trees, coffee and mango trees, and even humans had found a way to thrive on a once lifeless rock. Life procreates when it can. At that moment, my desire to birth a child began to make more sense to me than it had. It felt more natural, somehow.

The second thought that went through my head concerned fear. I looked down at the rocky fall beneath my feet, and thought about the scree I had had to pass, and would have to pass again to get out of there, and I thought, “now that’s something to be afraid of”. Slipping off the side of a mountain and never being found, that’s concerning. Hiking 60 feet above jagged rocks and crashing waves – that’s a little scary. There are things worth being afraid of – axe murderers, cancer, war – but that’s just part of life. Some things that one is justified in fearing should be faced either way. Climbing a mountain is beautiful and rewarding, partly because of the danger. Overcoming fear, and achieving the impossible is one of the things that make life so rich. Things like disease and maniacs – well, they are, unfortunately, a part of life as well, and it does no good to be paralyzed by the fear of something that may not be controllable. Fearing danger can do more consistent damage to one’s life than the actual danger is likely to do.

As I got up, and headed back down the trail, I thought to myself, “things to be afraid of: that 6 feet of mostly washed out trail ahead of me. Babies – not so scary, really”.

So here we are. Pregnant. Turns out the baby was most likely conceived right about Summer Solstice. Totally unintentional, actually.

My belly suddenly started talking to us a couple of days ago – September 28^th was when I was finally sure – we went from a little twitch here and there, that I wasn’t sure meant anything, to kicks so strong that Josh could feel it, and were even visible, if one were to sit quietly and stare at my belly for minutes on end.

Friending

2008-07-22T17:31:18Z

So, I just had the whole livejournal "friend" thing explained to me. (Thanks, Guru). I'm sorry if I've left anyone feeling neglected, or like I am not interested in what's going on in their lives. I am always interested, however, I have a small aversion to spending more time on the internet than I have to. Thusly, I am rarely online enough to maintain decent communications, and learning to properly utilize these sites rarely even occurs to me.
By the way, I never intend to hurt, offend, or snub. Please, if any of you feel that I have said, done, or neglected to say, something that makes you question my affection - talk to me about it.

(Oh, and I'll just assume that *smack* was a kiss)

Now, let's see how this whole thing works...

Not too exhausted to be thrilled...

2008-07-17T23:18:58Z

Part of our review from the Silicon Valley Metro:
"Brooks, tall, composed, elegantly professional in pants and satin blouse, seems to have studied the posture and mannerisms of iconic female forces like Katharine Hepburn and Lauren Bacall."

Oh, my.

Netflix

2008-06-16T17:15:27Z

Hello all,
I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long - 11 weeks, according to Livejournal's guilt clock.
I have, in fact, made it home. My tan is still interesting, and I have new patches of freckles where there weren't any before, but I'm all in one piece. Actually, the thing that is still bothering me at this point is the sprained ankle I got the week After I got home. I made it past all the challenges I set for myself in the wilds of Hawaii without spraining or breaking anything, and then manage to twist my ankle moving boxes. Hurumph.
I miss Hawaii (it's in my blood now), but I'm so happy to be home again.
I'm working on being an actual performing performer. I'm playing the role of Alex Gal in Tom Stoppard's play, Rough Crossing, at the Dragon Theatre in Palo Alto. Which, for those of you who might like to come to the show, is very near Watercourse Way. You know...Just saying...
I'm auditioning all over the place, and looking to start teaching theater again. So basically, I spend a lot of time either on the computer, or pacing the living-room while talking to myself.

I just found something wonderful: my terrible vampire movie is available on Netflix! In fact, you can just type my name in and it pops up. I am aware that there are a lot of bad films available on Netflix, and that being rentable does not actually make the film any better, but I'm thrilled.

Well, speaking of talking to myself...I need to learn a new monologue for an audition that's coming up. Philadelphia Story. Man, I want to be Katherine Hepburn. I mean Tracy Lord. Yes, that's what I meant.

Love to you all (and thanks so much for all your kind words and conversation during my sunburn incarceration. It helped, a lot)

Magenta

Peeling and happy

2008-03-25T21:59:42Z

I'm heading out of town today to go camp up at Chris and Emmalee's place in Ocean View - a wonderfully desolate subdivision out in the lava fields. We, and another new friend, Savory, went out yesterday (me - wincing but glad to be out of limbo) and visited beaches, a bakery, lava fields, and cinder mountains.
Today, we are going to see how far we can get before the roads are closed. There was the second big volcanic eruption, in as many weeks, two days ago - so travel is somewhat limited.

'till soon, friends.

(Thanks to all of you who shared in my imprisonment - your phone calls helped keep me sane:)

Almost human!

2008-03-24T06:44:20Z

I'm almost better - not quite, but I'm sitting and not moaning in pain. I've made myself a new sarong (which is really beautiful, but not as soft as my old one - so it's kind of like wearing razors) , and I'm almost done hand-sewing a new skirt. I've also been reading Amartya Sen's The Argumentative Indian, which is really fascinating reading.
I'm still really homesick, but I'm hoping that actually getting out of this damn (lovely) hotel will help me feel a little more adventurous and less like slinking home with my sun-burnt tale between my legs.

When I go to the store, people smile at me. When I pass by, and they see my back, I hear whispers of, "oh, ouch!", and "check out her back", and "that's got to hurt". One woman, possibly drunk, exclaimed, "damn, girl, you wear that sunburn!". Another woman said she thought that I was wearing a white swimsuit. Yeah, that was actually just the glow from my left-over Irish skin.

Heh. On the plus side, as the red turns to gold, I must admit - I like being pale, but this is kind of hot. No pun intended.

I am the lobster, goo goo g'jube

2008-03-21T00:13:21Z

Seriously.
The last couple of days have been - eventful.
I ended up at this beautiful campsite south of Kona called Ho'okena. I felt very at home there. I was definitely an outsider to the community of locals that frequent the place - I stand out like a pale, sore thumb (actually, one very lovely woman, Emmalee, informed me that people may be a tiny bit standoffish because - get this: I look like a cop. Wow, my self-image is rather confused at this point. I had no idea that I looked so conservative(?!).

I went out to Kealekekua Bay yesterday, which is home to some amazing snorkeling sites. The best place to go is way out near this rather inaccessible monument to Captain Cook. I decided to forgo the usual kayak rental, and swam instead. By the way, I'm really not much of a swimmer. I had fins and all, which helped, but the whole thing was - exhausting. I made it though, and once I could move again, I felt really victorious and charged. It was over a mile total, and much of the return trip was against the tide. It was beautiful. I swam through a couple of pods of dolphins, and saw so many unbelievable fish and coral. I also swam through nearly an eighth of a mile of tiny, glowing jellyfish, suspended over a 400 foot deep bay. It was an incredibly intense experience.

Now comes the lobster part. All in all, I spent about 4 hours snorkeling in Ho'okena and Kealekekua, and about 40 minutes hyperventilating on my back by the side of the bay. So my front side has a pretty respectable sunburn, and my back is - excruciating. Last night, in the temperate weather of Hawai'i, I began shivering uncontrollably, and when I climbed out of my tent this morning and stood up, I promptly fell down. I spent several minutes on the edge of blacking out, with my throat seizing up all the while, making me sound like an acute asthmatic. I strongly considered going to the hospital at that point. I'm fine with physical exhaustion and soreness, but not being able to breathe concerns me just a little. Some very nice locals helped me load all my gear into my trunk, some other campers gave me Tylenol, and, after a good half-hour or so, I felt like I could drive without passing out.

I changed my mind about avoiding hotels, and checked in this morning to a wonderfully old-fashioned pension-type place called Hotel Manago. I have a little private room, with a sash drawn window and a dingy but functional bath down the hall. It's the kind of place you might have expected to see in WW1 Germany. I slept all morning - that bed is one of the most lovely things I've ever slept in. It makes the pain tolerable. I keep thinking I'm better off than I am, get out of bed, and find that I can't actually stand up very well. So I go back to bed.

I have managed to drag myself, unkempt and red, to this internet cafe. I would very much like to sleep tonight, so I needed to get out and hobble around for a little while.

But they won't let me drink my icey smoothie at the computer, and it's melting sadly in my peripheral vision. The siren song of cold, fruity tastiness draws me away.

Sunday, Sunday, Sunday!

2008-03-16T23:39:49Z

I was intending on going to a Tai Chi workshop on the beach this morning with my aunt, but the waves looked too exciting when I got out there. I ran back to the house (just around the corner from Hanalei Bay), grabbed 'my' boogie board and fins, and jumped in the water. I have been having moderate-to-low luck for the last couple of days - the waves have been pretty small. Today made up for it all. I spent most of the morning chasing waves that would break just before I got to them, or wouldn't really gain force until they had already passed me by...until...
I kind of gave up (it's exhausting), and started reciting Shakespeare monologues until I caught sight of a swell that just got bigger and bigger. I kept thinking it was going to break before it reached me, but, lo! it didn't. I rode the crest of the wave almost all the way to the beach, somewhere from 4 to 6 feet above the ocean level. It was incredible.
Now I've been out of the water for several hours, but if I sit still and focus on my body, it still feels like my blood is rising and falling with the waves. It's an interesting sensation.
Devaki's big rental is empty tonight, so I get use of the kitchen and the outdoor shower (the indoor one as well, but what's the point in that?), so I'm living high on the vegetarian hog. I have been wanting to gorge on produce for the last week or so - this should be fun.
Tomorrow morning, I'm heading back to Lihue to catch a flight to the Big Island. I'm planning on doing a bunch of snorkeling and diving once I get there, and possibly trying to find work at a macadamia farm for a couple of days. Also, lava-hunting.

Hmmm, speaking of lava, I think I need fruit.

mmm...pineapple.

Oh, just got sidetracked again: did you know that papaya seeds burn? I didn't. I actually thought I was having an allergic reaction. I've had them before, but I usually clean the seeds out completely before eating the papaya.

Love to you all,
Magenta

Alive.

2008-03-12T23:49:38Z

Oh, how to begin? Maybe next time I should compose my entry and then come in to the internet cafe.

I just got back from four days hiking the Na Pali coast. It was a strange mixture of beautiful, and abjectly terrifying. I never made it to Kalalau beach. I tried, twice, but was unable to navigate the steep serpentine path of loose red sand and pebbles overlooking rocky, barren oblivion. It was disheartening in so many ways - I spent much of three days really wondering if I was going to be able to make it out alive. There were patches of trail no more than 6 inches wide, at a 45 degree slant, covered in yet more loose rocks and slippy, slidey nut shells like little casters.

I did get back. Yesterday, I made the final two mile hike out of the Hanakapi'ai valley, and then walked the eight miles from the trail-head to Hanalei. I needed the time on foot and alone, to reassemble my relationship with the creative force. Yesterday morning, I realized I had lost god - or lost my relationship to it. By about mile 5 or 6, I had found it again - in a new way that I am still trying to parse.

Every part of me is sore, and my psyche is still shaken. Now I'm a little lost, but coming back to myself. I think one of the strangest things about that hike is how different it was for so many people. Everyone I spoke to found the trail treacherous and difficult - one of the most difficult hikes on the planet, according to many wide travelers. Of course, there was the woman from Colorado who ran the whole thing (22 miles, round trip) in something like 4-6 hours. For me, the Na Pali coast is the tightwire between life and death, and for her - a pleasant jog.

I had planned to spend some days just meditating and fasting - but I find that I am so on edge now that meditation is - beyond me. I feel antsy and a little nervous. I am also missing Joshua terribly. When I finally got cell-phone reception back, and I heard the message he had left for me for my return, I cried. There were times on that trek that the only thing that got me over those damned rough patches was the knowledge that they stood between me and home. And I have to be with my Home again.

I am actually very glad that there are places on this earth that cannot be gotten to without more strength and preparation than I gave to this trek. I often complain that our society has put so many rules and regulations on life that we have very little sense of personal risk and responsibility. If the tour guide says "go", it must be safe. If we are "allowed" to be somewhere, and we slip and hurt ourselves, it must be somebody else's fault. This was not that situation. This was actual risk - real danger, and I had to acknowledge that I was not physically capable of taking it. Some people have mentioned that there are a few boat tours that will brave the surf and bring you in to Kalalau Beach by sea, but, as much as I want to see that place, I don't want the reward if I cannot pass the challenge. It doesn't seem right, somehow. There should be places, of great reward, that can only be achieved by great ability.

I think that had better be the end of this post. It's a little 'spensive here. I love and miss you all, and will see you soon.

Blog - take two. We are Go!

2008-03-05T23:41:17Z

Hello all,
So, I'm not going to write much today, as my flight leaves in a couple of hours, and I'm filthy. As a few of you know, I'm heading out on an adventure today, and will be out and about on the islands of Hawaii for the next month! Yeah, I know!!! Most of the time I plan to be in the middle of a jungle, under water, or playing on lava beds, so I probably won't be doing a whole lot of internet/blog/email kind of stuff. (What a change, you say? 'gen won't be checking her email?!? Shock! Fear! No, wait, that's pretty much par. Eh.) That being said, I'll try to get out a few good posts and some pictures of my travels.
I am thrilled to be going exploring - I've been in need of some soul-cleansing travel.
I'm going to miss my love terribly, of course. Josh is sitting here with me, making it awfully hard to convince myself to go. I have no doubt that my days will be wonderful and interesting, but the nights are going to be lonely. It's a good kind of lonely, though - sweet. It may be hard to sleep, but when I finally do, I fall asleep knowing that my love exists.

Oh, I wax sentimental, when I ought to be off the computer. It's much better to make out with my husband than to write about him.

Love to you all.