1) I learn over and over: YOU CAN ONLY START FROM WHERE YOU ARE. Because that's true. You never know where you may go from there, but still...ya ain't starting anywhere but right here, right now, jebus jones. Maybe the problem is the word "start"; nobody wants to think they are "starting" oh, say, their life's work, every single day (hour, minute). But I guess we are.
2) Latent materialistic longings (neg. interpretation)/love of antiquities (honest yet positive interpretation) combined with an existential when if not not now entitlement surfaced with huge *blurp* last week. Things 2 note:
- I think I love William Morris' 'African Marigold' design more than almost anything, only then it's immediately subsumed by another (usually a plainer one, 'Tulip & Willow' or something). They just make my heart hurt.
- Silver has gotten expensive. Not sure whom to blame about this, but it's heartbreaking to realize you are competing against people who just want beautiful old things for scrap (!). The silver I love the most, most of the time, is severely severe, old, and therefore the most spendy, and therefore I can paddle around in the...salt cellars area. Heh. Which look really beautiful and clean, but are really .58" across and minimally helpful. But anyhow, oh do I love, the simpler the better (boxes, cigarette boxes, capstan inkwells). I don't know to explain this--it's not wantiness, it's like it makes my heart hurt and my head dizzy. One of those seriously closely-held, unbelievably strong feelings that feels stupid with any air/light on it, but that's who I am. I have no words for the pleasure that things I like bring me. (Tea strainers? Bizarrely expensive. Goddang, what the heck.)
- Have decided for the mo, after an very educating surge in eBbayyitude, that what I need to it to regroup and get some great silver *books*. Learn more, scratch the itch with pictures, etc. No way to be in auctioning but ruthless, btw. Without it...you end up with 'silver' box of pretty but questionable origin such as the one I look at right now.
3) I was on a three-month sick leave this year for treatment of lymphedema (look it up). I ain't gonna make myself a martyr to laundry when there are so many people worse off than I in this world, but I had to wash a batch of lymphedema bandages today, the way I did every day while I was in treatment and was really reminded of BLEAH! What a hassle it all was.
It turns out this condition, especially now that I am out dealing with this on my own, would be much easier if I were German or Italian. It is only really about maintenance, nothing else. Keeping it in check is about getting massages (that I can't afford) and being in a pool (which I'm still figuring out). In those countries, they are much clearer on how you treat lymphedema (it was invented in Germany) and you can just kind of...go there and get treated. It is so much easier there to have treatment be part of your daily life without having to hugely stiff-arm of the rest of your life and spend too much $ and deal with hassle. I have to make that life for myself here. I have to be an Europaische in Bush-land! With Cobra!
4) Is it possible for your subconscious to earn PhDs? I am working on a couple.