Small World Underground

Tuesday night we went to game night at Quarterstaff Games in Burlington, VT... for the first time.  I've been hesitating since I'm a bit shy and hate being the only woman at any kind of event.  I was pleasantly surprised to find there was a good gender mix. And everyone was super nice.  I felt comfortable right away.

I live 40 minutes away, so got there around 7:15pm and could only stay until 8:45pm which gave my sweetie and I enough time to learn and play one game.  Since a couple folks there had already played it, and we'd seen the original played on TableTop with Wil Wheaton, we picked a version of Small World Underground!

Now, I've seen this game in our Days of Wonder adverts accompanying our other games, but for some reason was never really interested.  It just didn't strike me as a game I'd enjoy, despite enjoying many of the company's other games.  So, I had avoided it.  And frankly, although I enjoy TableTop in general, I was a bit put off by how competitive the game seemed.  I'm more inclined toward collaborative games... or games that can be modified to be collaborative.  (I fear my inner-competitiveness and hate to unleash the beast.)

Whatever the reason, I found that the game was not excessively competitive, as I had feared.  There was some good-natured jesting, but no one was "out to get" anyone else.  And as far as I could tell no one left with hurt feelings or a vengeful obsession.  Players were appropriately focused on their own goal of expanding and getting points, and all did just that.

The game was certainly just as complicated as it seemed on TableTop, but became more clear and sensical as the rounds progressed. In fact, I re-watched the Small World episode of TableTob and found myself easily understanding what was going on.

I think the game has great replayability which is extremely important to me since I get bored easily. And I appreciate that it can accommodate 2 to 5 players - being in a two person household, 2 player versions are highly desirable for spontaneous games at home.  I do, however, prefer the "underworld" theme better than the original theme merely because I find the races and special abilities more entertaining.

All in all, I had a great time playing and Small World Underground is at the top of my game wish list my latest game purchase.

a soulful destruction

I've been remembering my dreams this week. I used to remember my dreams almost always, but over the last few years it has come to seem rare to recall what I dreampt, or if I even dreamed at all. I love dreaming and have felt a hole in my life where this rich dream-life used to be.

A couple days ago I dreampt of a home, my home, but no home I know in waking life. The home was single story, built of wood, and surrounded by grasses, bushes, trees, and other homes in a community. Not particularly suburban, unless it was perhaps some 50 years ago or more. There were no fences that I can remember between any homes.

There was a little girl outside and I was with her, perhaps talking, or playing along with a game, or she asking me questions. I felt a kindness toward her, a gentle love and compassion.

My wooden home was a bit dark inside, although the slats of wood had gaps between them and holes where soft bright sunlight shown through. The inner walls were also of these wooden boards - no insulation, no sheet-rock or plaster. Just old wooden boards, green with mold or moss or paint - like a fence. In that way it was very earthy and matched the nature surrounding it.

I recall feelings of deep sadness, beauty, quiet, emptiness, and maybe shame or guilt. I know there were other people and homes, but not who or what anything else looked like, just this snapshot.

The fence-gap wooden home makes me think of skeletal ribs. And I wonder if the home represents my physical self or my mental self or my emotional self. All would prove interesting in analogy. My physical self pocked with symptoms of autoimmune disease - tired weary body, lungs closed and dark, joints creaky, crackly, swollen and sore. My mental self - my brain feeling foggy, sometimes gaping holes that you could shine a flashlight through. My emotional self confused, jumbled and tangled like a mess of yarn.

Or perhaps it represents the overwhelm I feel about my life, my home, my current situation. I'm so far from comfort in all aspects of my life. There is far too much work to be done to get things to a state of decency - one can see the gaping holes. How can this be repaired? One can't abandon their life, they can only alter it from within. Yet there is sunlight streaming through, and that makes it sweet and beautiful. A soulfulness in the destruction.

educating me

Thinking about returning to college for a BFA has been stressful... I think about it a lot, but it's only this summer that I've felt well enough to do something so time consuming as college. I began researching schools this summer, hoping one would stand out as "the one for me".

I already have two BAs, and have been asked "Why don't you apply for an MFA program?" I could... but I don't really have a strong enough portfolio, or the confidence. Seems adequate reasoning for me. I haven't really had the energy to work on my portfolio because I've been focused on improving my health.

Now, I feel better and want to continue my education. But I don't want to make a commitment to live somewhere I've never been and might not love.

It feels less stressful to choose to just take art classes with various art organizations in order to learn the skills I need and get that portfolio moving forward. So, that is my plan, again. (I think I came to this same conclusion 3 days ago before I forgot and re-started looking at colleges for a BFA.) I hope I can remember this decision long enough to prevent myself from starting the stressful college search again.

food for thought

With the heat wave I spent yesterday morning at an official city cooling center, the Brooklyn Public Library. One of the books I came home with is Bringing Yoga to Life: The Everyday Practice of Enlightened Living. Although every page has an abundance of food for thought, this morning a couple of questions really stood out for me...

*Are my choices supporting what is deeply satisfying in my life?
*Are my choices leading to long-term freedom or short-lived pleasure?

... We make thousands of choices every day... How might our days look different if we asked ourselves these questions throughout?

If we ask ourselves these questions in reference to what we do for work, where we want to live or be, what we want to do for play and pleasure, how would our lives change?

How might my life be different tomorrow if I ponder these questions today?

Even just considering these questions in brevity I find myself seeing where I am holding myself back from deep satisfaction - by choosing to keep living somewhere I do not want to live because I'm afraid that moving will just be a short-lived pleasure. Certainly my choice to be in the city is not creating short-lived pleasure. And I do not yet know if staying here will result in long-term freedom. If I move to the country will it lead to long-term freedom? How am I to know the answers to these questions? There is so much doubt and inner conflict that I find it difficult to find the answer within.

No place like home

What the hell happened in that 24 hours that flipped the "i heart new york city" switch to "off"?

For two autumns, winters, and springs I have been wooed by the magic, and filled with blissful fondness toward this city... then, seemingly overnight, I had been consumed with a deep unwaverable desire to get the hell out of here and into the country.

The noise, the heat, the R line... I shake my fist at you!

Not even a trip into Manhattan, which usually snaps me right into "magical dream world" mode, could change my heart.

I know what happened, actually, I just don't understand why it had an impact opposite of what I had expected.

We moved. We moved less than a mile from our crappy, dark, stinky, rent stabilized apartment in that wealthy, cut-off from the rest of the borough neighborhood... we moved just in between it and another wealthy neighborhood that we actually like better... except for that pesky R line.

Even this new apartment is better. It's brighter, newer, cleaner, less smelly, closer to everything I like to walk to (except my yoga studio and the F line), it's technically quieter, too... except weekend nights. It's better in every way, except the rent is more. But that shouldn't be enough to tip the scales into loathing.

So, what the heck is my problem?

Mr. B and I have been discussing where it all went wrong. We had this plan to be here for 2 years - for his masters degree. Then the 2 years ended and we each thought the other really wanted to stay. I had been worried about loosing medical care, so was reluctant to willy nilly run off to another city or state. To him, it sounded like I was unmovable (perhaps I was at that moment). He was certain he could get a great job here and would be in demand, so was pulled slightly to stick around. To me, it sounded like he saw great career opportunities here, how could I deny him this? Naturally, we each convinced ourselves we wanted to stay, believing it would make the other happy. The truth is, and has been for years, both of us want to be in Vermont.

I want to go home. And I don't know exactly where that is yet, but I know it's not here. Here is a constant unsettledness of having to move every 6-12 months. Here is a constant knowledge that I will never have the space for real furniture or a garden. Here is endless waiting.

I want a house I can make home, full with cozy furniture and beautiful art. I want some land so I can plant a large garden and dot with chickens and sheep and bee hives. Someday I might want a little swing set and a wee faerie child to swing on it (but not just yet). And I want to open my window or walk out my door and smell grass, trees, flowers, rain, and see mountains and valleys and deer.

With this in mind, I click my heals three times...

anxiety award

So, I read something today that said immune system functions are inhibited by anxiety... and that made me wonder if somehow, my body is naturally fighting this autoimmune disease (a disease characterized by the over-activity of the immune system) with a constant state of anxiety. Perhaps my anxiety is what has kept the disease so minuscule for so long. I'm certain I've had symptoms of autoimmune disease at least since I was a teenager, and I actually believe I started having symptoms when I was eight, which is the same time I remember beginning to experience anxiety and depression.

I suppose it is possible the disease biologically causes the anxiety, and the anxiety was just another symptom. But I kinda like the idea that the anxiety is a response from my body to suppress the immune system... it's a bit comforting - like something is being done. Like someone is paying attention in there and doing something.

Arg. But this just plays into me finding ways that my biology is responsible for my emotions, rather than my life experiences being responsible for my emotions, which means I just get to feel better (emotionally) because "it's not my parents fault"... huh. It's a damn chicken and egg. If my childhood had been "perfect" would I still have an autoimmune disease? Perhaps if we had heat and I didn't get pneumonia when I was two years old. Perhaps if I wasn't constantly breathing second hand smoke. Perhaps if there weren't drunk and high strangers in my face making me uncomfortable. Yet, if I didn't have an autoimmune disease that wouldn't change my childhood experience.

Okay okay... this doesn't mean my initial idea is false... I just may not win a science award ;)

My Mom The Genius

When I was about 4 or 5 years old and Christmas was peeking around the corner, my mom and I were making rice crispy treats... quite possibly my all time favorite yummy snack back in the day.

I remember her asking me "Should we make them green and red for Christmas?" My eyes lit up. I couldn't fathom how it would be possible to change the color of rice crispy treats! They were always yellowy-white. Of course, I was giddy at the possibility, and agreed readily.

Her next question nearly caused my heart to stop beating. "Should we cut them into triangles?" What? How? Rice crispy treats were thick yummy squares of goodness! How would you make them into triangles? Again, as I wracked my brain while we melted and poured and mixed I just couldn't figure out how it could come to be.

Then my mom did the amazing - she simply added food coloring - something I had no concept of as a wee person. After the treats had settled and were ready for cutting, she again blew my mind by cutting across the pan diagonally, and then kept cutting diagonally until we had a couple dozen triangles.

And just like that, she transformed regular old rice crispy treats into magical triangular Christmas-colored goodies.

My mom held me in complete awe with her magical powers - her depth of knowledge, her radical "out of the box" thinking. My mom's Christmas miracle elevated her to genius status in my mind.

Although there may have been moments while growing up (generally my teen years) when I was certain my mom was a few cards short of a deck, she has always hovered somewhere between magical and genius. I cherish her exceptional thoughtfulness, knowledge about things that matter to me (like food, and gardening, and power tools), wild creativity, and unbelievable resourcefulness. She has never ceased to amaze me with her wealth of natural skills and abilities.