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Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.
- Pueblo Blessing

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Wednesday, Mar. 09, 2005 - 1:00 a.m.

Cost of the War in Iraq
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WARNING!!!! if you know me personally, you may read my diary, but if you do, you take the chance of hearing things you don't want to know, misunderstanding what I've written and being hurt by it. If you are unsure if it is ok to read, save yourself and me the grief and heartache, and ask first!!! Please note that this is a DIARY, ie my subjective feelings, hearsay, suppositions, and outpourings of ranting of the moment. It does not represent objective news, the whole of what I think of a topic or someone, or even a thought-out representation of any of the above. Keep that in mind. Thanks. * Here is a Diary Etiquette Read Me.

Lost Gardens Can't be Done

OK OK I totally get Mom-on-roof's point today.

Cuz I needed a rant and a cuddle and just someone there too, for something I could DO NOTHING ABOUT, and NO ONE can fix it.

I fucked up.

Ya know how I was on the waiting list for the community gardens for FOUR years? And how when I finally got one it was one of the rejects, since when people leave, other gardeners get to move to those plots if it is better than theirs and they beg and plead, leaving the worst of the lot empty for the newcomers newly-gotten-off-the-waiting-list. That was me two years ago. And then this past year I didn't know you could rotate, just thought I was stuck for life with this shit garden underneath the trees = tree roots and shade and tree seeds etc etc.

But no, I was told that I could request a bump-up this year to one without tree roots AND with sun maybe?? you see?

And so in the middle or end of january, rather between the middle and the end of january 2005, yes, about 6 weeks ago, we got our "renew or die" forms for the community gardens, and I was so on it, I was.

I filled out the form, and made out the check and stamped the envelope... even going so far as to go to the postoffice to get the extra 1 or 3 cents stamp that would bump it up to the new Jaunuary 2005 improved postage rate... addressed the envelope, stuck it all in, and put it in my bag with my comics drawing stuff and other "need photocopies" assorted paperwork.

You see where this is going don't you? Well, yeah, in order to send it off, I had to put a photocopy of a bill with my address on it, proof of residency and all that... so as they would know I hadn't moved to the suburbs and wanted to keep my grubby paws on a tiny mid-city treerooty in the shade plot of land so no other deserving innercity dweller could attempt to grow leaf-miner-ridden swisschard.


Today on pulling out my comics drawing materials at the coffeeshop to do my page a day, like some sort of comedic monk, an envelope got stuck between the pages of comics past... what is that I wonder?

Ahhh, a stamped addressed envelope with a check for $10 dated January 29, 2005.


So, I RAN home and RAN back to the copyshop with my telephone bill and RAN (well, schluffed very sweatily and quickly in my huge winter boots in the snow and slush) to the community center where the office of the innercitydwellingonawaitinglistforagardenplotwithroots paperwork is carried out.

and looked very sad and abashed.

And was told I am probably bumped back down to the bottom of the four year waiting list since I didn't renew in time. Byebye garden. Byebye 6 years waiting for a plot of dirt with sunshine to grow juicy fresh produce. Byebye oregano and rhubarb, strawberry plants galore and 2nd year parsley. OK, I can dig them up. And put them... um, in my backyard that they weren't growing in since what grows in my backyard is moss, remember?? Even the raspberries are dying and they are usually bloody WEEDS!! aaaaagh.

So, yeah. No there wasn't anything I could do. And nothing a husband could do. Nor you. Nor even the office paperwork ladies... they said "we have already called people to tell them they get a garden finally this year"... yup, one of them gardens is mine.

So, I cried all the way to the coffeeshop to do my work. I know it was stupid. A 41 yr old woman crying for her garden cuz she misplaced one immediatelyfilledoutandstampedand checkmadeoutright away envelope and had thought it was mailed.

It just seemed indicative of my whole running to get things done, putting tons of energy into something and ending up with zero life. OK, not zero. But you know. Making handmade things for girlfriends who fuck you over and then throw out everything. Sending art and cassettes and photos to a guy you love madly to have him become Disappearing Boy. Rushing around madly to earn $ to buy a building and ending up in the hole, lonely with tennis elbow from overwork. Years of spending all my savings and time inseminating, hormones the whole shit and caboodle and ending up with no kid, no family. Bringing my mother here, taking care of her everything while she is ill and cannot do anything and having her move away as soon as she starts to get better....

OK OK it was a self-pity whine session in my head, but I lost my effin garden, eh! Fuckity fuckity.

So yeah. And this is even the year when I thought "oh I won't get the organic vegetable box subscription like last year, cuz with the garden it is so much". hehe. Sigh.

And I just needed a hug. Someone I don't have to make a date with, or dress up to see, or make time for I dunno, I need someone in my life, my actual life, not dating, not lavalife, maybe a mom or a friend or someone close. Sigh.

Oh well, I am an adult, so they say. So I just put my napkin under my chin on the table so if my eyes dripped it wouldn't ruin my drawing, and then I had a coffee and worked and worried about needing a physiotherapist and a chiropractor again if I keep drawing too much, like the last time but then I was richer and even though I was like handicapped I still could pay a physiotherapist and a chiropractor and now I cannot afford that so should I call my client and tell them I cannot do the work (NOT the south korean one, that is my bread and butter, but the Poetry Book client) cuz my hands are shaking and my elbow hurts and physically I'm just not so good for drawing too much....

And eventually I got what I considered enough work done, and came home and ate and well, continued my life.

So yeah, sometimes there is just nothing to DO but the situation is there in real life anyways.



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previous meanderings - future past

Goodbye Michael. May your next life be kinder to you. - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Taking Care of Your Cows - Thursday, Jun. 25, 2009
Saint Joseph robs the cradle and eats spaghetti - Sunday, Jun. 14, 2009
sticky notes and broken irises - Friday, Jun. 12, 2009
The FOODCOMMANDER - Monday, Jun. 08, 2009


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