Alamo - a lesson in contrast
I'm finding out so many people I know are on livejournal and I had no idea. That makes me happy. I'm also not technically savvy and have yet to figure out how to add friends to this thing. Keeping this public page definitely challenges my sense of humility. I write because it is what I do, it is what I have always done. I write because I have fire inside. Sometimes I have felt that I was writing to save my life. Sharing that in a way that is not edited and refined is intimidating. My thoughts and opinions change through experiencing new things, every encounter and conversation with another person influences and adds to my knowledge and writing something down that is permanent is just a reflection of where I was at the time. I have to remind myself. Today has been a time of reflection, thoughts moving around so quickly that I feel I can't write everything down. I probably wouldn't want to.
Here I am in Alamo after a long, long night at the Gantry. Mary and I came back to the house and talked about a lot of things, femme identity, the relevance of feminism to younger generations (including mine), self-care and the politics of fashion. True. Then she spent the night at her boyfriend's house and I spent the night in her 10 foot loft bed. John came home sometime when I was in bed and was up until at least 5 am ranting to himself about "the tribe" and hammering random things. I really didn't feel safe, but somehow I felt better being so high up in the loft. I'm still confused, when I first met John I couldn't tell whether or not he was on drugs. His eyes were glassy and he sniffed a lot. I learned a lot about organizing, and basically what doesn't work. That info is just as important as anything else. I think last night confirmed for me that the Gantry will not be a place I will go back to for a place to stay.
I woke up early this morning and trekked to the BART station for a short trip and a $30 cab ride to my uncle's house in Alamo. I haven't been here since my aunt Susan's funeral a few months ago, and the place seems so abandoned and cold with all three kids away at college and Steve flying around for his job. It's just me and an ancient persian cat that follows me constantly meowing and looking at me with her one good eye, in this huge house. I am enjoying the privilege of staying here, although I don't feel fully comfortable, nor have I ever. I still feel like the "odd one out" on my dad's side of the family and I clearly have a lot of family issues that I don't care to confront here because it is deeply personal work. I really don't identify with my cousins, Steve's kids, because they grew up with so much money. I've been thinking about how I am not materially-driven. I think not thinking about material things has been a necessity of growing up without money. Hmmmmm....
Tomorrow I am planning on spending the day in SF and checking out some old haunts. I have been remembering how hard it was for me when I lived there since I've been down here. Things I don't usually think or talk about. I realize I adapt to situations, however difficult, easily and just as easily put my feelings about it aside so I can move on to the next thing.
*heart*
Here I am in Alamo after a long, long night at the Gantry. Mary and I came back to the house and talked about a lot of things, femme identity, the relevance of feminism to younger generations (including mine), self-care and the politics of fashion. True. Then she spent the night at her boyfriend's house and I spent the night in her 10 foot loft bed. John came home sometime when I was in bed and was up until at least 5 am ranting to himself about "the tribe" and hammering random things. I really didn't feel safe, but somehow I felt better being so high up in the loft. I'm still confused, when I first met John I couldn't tell whether or not he was on drugs. His eyes were glassy and he sniffed a lot. I learned a lot about organizing, and basically what doesn't work. That info is just as important as anything else. I think last night confirmed for me that the Gantry will not be a place I will go back to for a place to stay.
I woke up early this morning and trekked to the BART station for a short trip and a $30 cab ride to my uncle's house in Alamo. I haven't been here since my aunt Susan's funeral a few months ago, and the place seems so abandoned and cold with all three kids away at college and Steve flying around for his job. It's just me and an ancient persian cat that follows me constantly meowing and looking at me with her one good eye, in this huge house. I am enjoying the privilege of staying here, although I don't feel fully comfortable, nor have I ever. I still feel like the "odd one out" on my dad's side of the family and I clearly have a lot of family issues that I don't care to confront here because it is deeply personal work. I really don't identify with my cousins, Steve's kids, because they grew up with so much money. I've been thinking about how I am not materially-driven. I think not thinking about material things has been a necessity of growing up without money. Hmmmmm....
Tomorrow I am planning on spending the day in SF and checking out some old haunts. I have been remembering how hard it was for me when I lived there since I've been down here. Things I don't usually think or talk about. I realize I adapt to situations, however difficult, easily and just as easily put my feelings about it aside so I can move on to the next thing.
*heart*