Tomorrow I will be striking with thousands of other women (including one Trista King) as part of the International Women's Strike.
I've never been on strike in my life, and it feels a bit strange to strike right now. I have so many of the things women have fought for in the past:
Why I marched:
because it was relatively easy
because it was clear and obvious
because I reject the idea that Americans are largely racist and fascist, in love with authority
because we must remind everyone that we are not racist and fascist, not in love with authority
because I wanted to be with people
because I wanted to see what this aspect of my adopted city is like, who comes, what they wear, how we dance
because it is a beginning
What I will do next:
It is four years and two months weeks since I left ye olde office job for the freedoms and pressures of the freelance life. I usually post on the anniversary itself but on this particular September 1, I was traveling from Marrakesh, Morocco to Banyoles, Spain (planes, buses and automobiles). Forgive the delay.
I've been relieved not to have the pressure of the everyday blog (EDB!) over my head this last month. It's been an intense month full of two (2!) unexpected trips to New Mexico for family health problems, some really hard conversations, and, you know, prepping and packing for this massive trip I'm taking in two days.
But.
I've also felt keenly how much more I'd have written about all kinds of topics, if only I had made the time.
I have been wrestling with this post for a while now. I want to know what is next, I want to know what it is I did, and I don't know those things. I want a clear and tidy answer, but instead I have lots of meandering paths.
Let's go back to why this whole thing started.
Today is day 100. I know that seems weird, because yesterday was day 98. But this is the end date of the project for everybody else, so I miscounted somewhere.
Not ten minutes ago I was sitting there feeling sorry for myself for having no idea of what to write and WISHING IT WERE OVER ALREADY. I have a lot of thoughts about the whole projects but I will share those tomorrow as an addendum.
I hate sales.
I know I am not alone in this.
Watching spiders scurrying into dark corners
Laughing at how Caesar sleeps when it is hot, legs spread out so the heat will dissipate
Going to the car wash and buying a Royal Pine air freshener like my grandmother used to keep
Wishing the future were not so murky
Pouring coconut flakes into a funnel
Stirring coconut flakes to get them to fall
Reading DIY facemask recipes that I never use
Asking everyone what they really want in life
Wanting to make even more lists
Washing my feet before bed
Zip-tying cords together
Today Paul & I did our annual cleaning-all-the-things day. We have a whole stupid, boring, highly mature, perhaps slightly neurotic cleaning routine that we developed as we drove our things out to Los Angeles.
It was incredibly hot today, the sky looked like we were in hell, and yet! We got rid of things, organized other things, displaced a small nation of spiders, and generally felt good about ourselves by the time it was over.
Finished another book! That means it's...BOOK REVIEW TIME. Or at least BOOK-RELATED THOUGHTS TIME.
The book: Drive, by Daniel Pink.
This is a book I've been told to read 100,000 times, courtesy of the Infinite Bullshit Machine that is the internet. Recently it appeared on my Kindle courtesy of the reservations system in the Los Angeles Public Library System.
I keep flipping between thinking it's really interesting and powerful, and thinking it's as obvious as it gets.
