Looking into the past...

[Photo is shot through a nice glass of white wine at the MOMA sculpture garden in New York City. That's Picasso's goat you can see. If some outdoor furniture weren't in the way you could see the, um, backside. Something like this, shot when having a fine meal at a restaurant, with the atmosphere of this view, the wine drinking in the middle of the day, is a moment that can be recalled easily by the fuzzy photo.]

I read in the NY Times today about apps that package up your prior social media posts and return them to you some time later. Studying one's past in this way is interesting. I was reminded of my occasional forays into old online blogs, written journals, souvenirs, letters or piles of photos. Even old receipts and budgets and checks can dredge up the memory machine. Back you go...to another place and time that often seems familiar but sometimes seems strange.

I picked a little notebook out of my piles today. Inside are notes from 2003 and 2006. There's the description of a day with Dad when we go to someone's memorial service (I don't know whose it was) and then travel to Dallas to visit his relatives. There's the description of a dream where my dad and I plummet off a cliff in his van and I wake up before we hit bottom. (I don't remember this dream or even writing it down.) There are notes from the anniversary trip FFP and I took to Paris. It seems to be about me and yet it's so distant, so separate. I read about visits I barely remember and encounters that I don't remember. (Do the others remember them?) This time is also covered by online entries. The 2006 ones are in the transition to Blogger. A lot is there but it's all very confusing. I'm glad I have the records, but they also overwhelm me. Things happen faster than I can absorb them. But what if I took it all to heart? Our forgetting is part of our mental health. The time I explored today included a friend's death and the diagnosis of another friend with a serious cancer. Time is supposed to make things easier. But perhaps only if you don't remember...or read your old journals.

So, no, I don't think I'll sign up to be automatically reminded of my social media posts. I think I'll make myself make an effort to dredge that stuff up.

Where to Begin?

Where to begin? Or end for that matter.

I appeared on Friday to agonize over home. I've had a lot of thoughts since early Friday. And a couple of nights of dreams.

The dreams, then. My dreams night before last took the form of writing collaborations. Amid the usual (for me) dream scape of lost luggage and weird logistics of going places I'm not sure I need to be, there I was with sheaves of yellow legal paper with lots of handwritten notes for a novel of some sort. I seemed to be collaborating on the work with someone else (who remained quite vague) and then with a different person. I was untroubled by this apparent lack of loyalty and, with this second assistant, agreed to make the two principal characters, apparently based on us, dead in the book. Not dead as in dead and gone and not influencing the action in the present, but dead as in ghosts who could only see each other.

Last night my dreams were more usual. We were walking a long way, but I'd lost my shoes. FFP was helping me along. My stocking feet felt good. We were on a moving sidewalk for a very long time and then a set of colorful triangular steps that seemed perilous and to not be where we were supposed to be walking. In my dreams I'm often walking or driving when the walkway or roadway becomes something else again.

Why am I talking about dreams? I don't know. My little piece of the world has seemed dreamlike for a few days. I'm not sure why. Perhaps I have settle into the condo enough to internalize some of the facts of living here. Like you can't hear it rain. Not that it has rained much since we have lived here. We've had a drought. But at the old house you'd wake up and hear the pitter-patter on the roof and windows and that was cool. I'm sure it could rain hard enough that we'd hear it in here, but it would have to be quite a storm. It's nice to wake up on Sunday and see that it's been raining, though, and not worry about the paper being wet. The newspaper guy delivers the papers to the concierge who runs them up to the hallway in front of our door. Nice.

We are also noting how our place is so small that it's hard to lose track of each other or our stuff. That's good. Of course, we can be 'home' and be in the mail room, storage area, gym, parking garage, lobby, etc. That's weird.

It feels more monumental to get the car out now. Friday night we went to a opening of a big wine and gourment shop in Hancock Center. Too far to walk. Since we were already in the car we battled the IH35 service road to go to an Italian place on E. 11th. When we lived in the 'burbs (close-in burbs, though) we'd jump in the car at the drop of a hat. We'd jump in the car (sometimes both in separate cards) and go to the club to use the gym. We'd sometimes drive to a restaurant that was an easy walk away. Certainly going downtown or driving to a restaurant far afield was no big deal. I'd walk out to the garage seven minutes before my tennis game at the club (or any other event there) and figure I wouldn't be too late. Now I need to add seven minutes to get to my car and get it out of the building. And, for meetings at the club at night, there is a lot of pesky traffic in the way. I think this is basically a good thing. We went to luncheons on Friday and Saturday that were downtown and all we had to do was walk over. No driving downtown and no finding parking or using a valet and waiting with everyone else after for the car. Last night we went to a dinner party at some friends' apartment in the Monarch. We just hoofed over on our feet with five bottles of wine.

I've been thinking more about the novel. You know, the one I've posted two paragraphs of here in the harsh light of blogland. (Here and here if you are following along.) I was going to get the guy to meet up with the person picking him up at the airport, have him learn who the woman sitting next to him was, etc. Move him along. This would require, however, deciding on the weather. Will it be hot when he steps out of the terminal? Will he remove his blazer against the heat of an August or will it be pleasantly cool and sunny. Of course, if it is May-September it's probably hot, but if it's October-April it could be anything. So I have to decide what time of year it is and then, if it isn't in the prolonged Austin summer, I have to decide whether, you know, it is a twenty degree day in January or a sixty degree one. Of course, maybe I could just take this guy outside without comment on the weather, his clothes, etc. But it doesn't seem right. Even if you don't write these things you should have established them in your head. And, to be honest, if it's August, he felt the heat in the jet way between the plane and the air-conditioned terminal.

The real actual weather in Austin today is dreary and around sixty. We have tickets to see Chekhov's "Three Sisters" in the afternoon. I can't concentrate long enough to read the synopsis on Wikipedia. I think I have a little hangover. Nothing too serious. I'm just a little dreary myself. Wine flowed last night and some guy whipped up a cocktail that I believe involved gin that I may have (OK, I did) had one of. I have lots of things I need to do like wrap a present for my father-in-law, print mailing labels for holiday cards, clean the condo. We were thinking of visiting a few galleries in the East Austin Studio Tour before going to the play.

But. Where to begin?

No Nightmares, Maybe Just a Bad Dream or Two

I have been downsizing while not saying too much about it. And that brought me to a dilemma mentioned here. I decided that I could keep the Christmas-themed bendable figures. The others, unless they were very old or special, had to be gotten rid of somehow. FFP had decided to let go of a box of National Lampoons and a couple of boxes of research material for something he was interested in at one time. This necessitated getting into the under the stairs storage area and going through stuff. I needed to do something to acknowledge Christmas since a friend was coming by to honor the jigsaw puzzle tradition and our parents would hopefully visit for the opening of gifts. I pulled almost everything out from the under the stairs storage. Including the Christmas stuff which includes these three Jack Skellington figures shown in the pictue. (Reminder to self: I need to rent that movie. "Nightmare Before Christmas" that is.) I put out most of the Christmas decor I have in our media room. It does look oddly festive although there are no lights nor candles.

I actually sent FFP to the thrift store with sacks and sacks of bendables. Including some MOC (mint on card). They took his Lampoons, too. (A friend took the research material.) He made two trips and, on the second, said that there were Toy Story bendies out for sale from the first trip. I also pulled out a few figures for my nephews in Colorado and a bunch for the toy box at my dad's. A lot of them were new with tags and all. I have already used those to create a stocking for my dad's little neighbor (who is four) when he wanted to give him something. I understand that my dad gave it to him just before he was off with his parents on a trip to Grandma's. I got a stocking out of the heavily marked-down goods at the grocery, added some candy and put in bendies of dogs and other animals.

The result was many cubic feet of 'stuff' that are no longer in the house. Yes, I still have a couple of cubic feet of Christmas decorations that I plan to store in the condo storage unit. I have another box of my favorites and some really old figures that I haven't given up. But a lot of stuff is gone. Or at my dad's and queued up to be gone. I also found a few boxes of what we call 'parts is parts.' Old wires, cables, computer accessories (mice, speakers) and such. I Freecycled (through a local Yahoo group) a couple of cubic feet of stuff.

So I've shed a few things and I've decorated this house. Maybe for the last time since we are hoping to sell next year. I don't really have any nightmares before Christmas but I had a few disturbing dreams last night about India (as a result of watching "The Namesake" on DVD last night). (Reminder to self: read the book after you find it. Oh, there it is on top of the filing cabinet waiting to be cataloged. Just as I thought.) In the bright light of day, I'm having a few bad feelings, too. I spoke to my dad this morning and he was breathless from retrieving his newspaper. He said that his amaryllis plant had to be propped up because the blossoms made it top-heavy and he made this sound like a big effort. When I offered to pick him up for our Christmas outing tomorrow, he said that he would come over here "if he felt like doing it at all." Dad is putting off going to some doctors until after the holiday. I'm letting him because I think that there is little they can do. He's already been to the doctor about one problem and this confirmed my feelings. He has been repeatedly treated for the other problem, always with mixed results and interim suffering. Ah, well, 2008 might be a year of sitting in waiting rooms or waiting on my dad if things like trips to the curb for the paper get too overwhelming. I don't expect nightmares, I'm an optimist. But I'm having a bad day dream or two.

I'll Never Be

Today's writing prompt from Holidailies is "Things I once thought I'd do that I now know I'll never ever do." I offered the prompt back when the portal kicked off so I thought I'd tackle this topic today. I've talked in this space about the delusions I had about retirement, but today I'm going to reach back to the kid you see above, washing dishes on one of our camping trips when I was in my teens. (And no we weren't having TV dinners. We were probably using and reusing those aluminum pans the TV dinners came in pre-microwave.)

So what did that kid dream about? What things never came true? What other dreams did she develop in her twenties that had no real chance of being realized?

I thought I would run my own business empire. I thought I'd become so rich that I'd have a retirement home for all my aging relatives. (I would, of course, not get old.) I'd also be so rich that I'd be a philanthropist of major dimensions and change lives on a daily basis. House the homeless. Feed, clothe and rehab them, too. Support the arts in major ways. I thought I would invent great things. And write novels, self-help books, screenplays and short stories. Most of my dreams were like that. Creating works of art and creating amazing businesses and being wildly successful and then using the money as a force for good that could only be conceived by my brilliant mind. I would have multiple houses. I would have my own gym (stocked with fluffy towels and brand new gym wear for guests in the locker rooms). I would have my own tennis court at this huge house and multiple 'suites' for friends. I'd have lots of help so I didn't cook, clean or worry about the garden or the maintenance. I'd have condos in other cities like New York and Paris. (Although dreaming of Paris was a little beyond the kid in this picture. As was, even, a tennis court!) I'd take trips with entourages of friends, though, that's what I thought. The kid in the picture took trips to campgrounds, sometimes with entourages of cousins and aunts and uncles as well as the parents. (That's my dad in the background.) We looked like we were homeless Okies during the depression, probably. Truly we probably couldn't afford to vacation anywhere else.

Did I really dream about stuff like that while doing chores at a campsite because we couldn't afford a hotel room? Yes. I did. And I continued to dream like that well past the point that I should have known better. As I wind up my sixth decade, though, I know better. Yeah, I do.

I often dreamed of businesses that I'd run. The closest I got to a business of my own was helping FFP with his ad agency which he ran for years. I labored working for the man while he created something of his own. I was too shy, too dreamy, too many things to start my own business. I dreamed, too, of businesses that were unlikely to bring those riches! Bookstores, concierge services, bars.

I dreamed of travel, but it took me until the early seventies to refine the dream to include anything as exotic as Europe. Before that when I studied history and languages and such it seemed impossibly removed. But once I'd quit my first job after college and taken off (at twenty-four) to tramp around Europe with a Eurail Pass I pretty much dreamed of going everywhere and seeing every single important thing. I now know that I'll never go on difficult journeys---no climbing big mountains or going to really dangerous places or to any country where women are chattel.

I could just see me writing all these published works when I was a kid. I thought I was such a talent. Of course, presented with a blank page things evaporated quickly. I actually finished a few short stories, essays and letters to the editor. I never could stay with a project that promised to be the size of a book. I now realize that I'm just blogging. I'm over it.

I pretty much know the extent of my realized and potential riches. They will never cover the major largess and philanthropy I dreamed about. Oddly, even though I sometimes thought I'd find the wherewithal somehow to do those big things I was, at the same time, shocked at what I did manage by working many years and getting a bit lucky, too. I no longer want large sprawling homes with guest quarters and entertainment or multiple homes. Because I know that I can't afford the staff and don't want to be bothered even supervising maintenance. I don't have a cook but, honestly, between eating out and prepared foods from the likes of Whole Foods and Central Market, don't I sort of have my cooking done? I don't have a tennis court, but I can afford a club that has many, some hard and some clay, and I can play and someone else can take care of the property. I didn't build a retirement home for my aging relatives but I did get a house for my dad and my mom to live in here and while Dad is paying his expenses and doesn't have all the help I dreamed about, he has enough for now especially when I pitch in.

You will never see me going off to Iran or climbing Mt. Everest or buying a giant home so you can visit me. I'm pretty sure I won't invent the next big thing or see a pile of books I wrote at Book People. But, I have seen some of France, Germany, England, Scotland, Ireland, Spain, Luxembourg, Belgium, The Netherlands, Russia, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Israel, South Africa and Australia. I've managed to give some money to help some groups in ways that were meaningful, to me at least.

Maybe that kid's big imagination helped in some way to realize some smaller dreams. Some dreams that are, after all, just enough.

My SXSW Movies, Part 4

We are getting to be experts at the logistics of SXSW. Last night we headed downtown in the rain. So far, we have completely avoided parties. We got a whole envelope full of notices about parties we were entitled to attend with our badges. What a laugh. We don't do crowded bars well. We'd rather pay for food and drink and have it in comfort at our convenience.

But this party was for a movie we were going to see and our friends were involved...one as the PR firm and one as an investor.

It was raining when we got downtown but not too hard. We captured a parking spot roughly between where the party was and where the movie was to be shown.

At first we thought the party was a bust. It was in a small bar that was supposedly reserved for the party at 8:30 but was full of a happy hour crowd listening to a band called the Jitterbug Vipers. Sure enough they managed to displace these folks and move in the movie party. We found a couple of seats at the bar, had a free drink and talked to our friend in charge of PR. We learned that the movie's producers and directors had been able to sell tickets in advance that pre-empted badge holders. Hmmm. The director kindly gave us a couple of these so we could jump the badge line. We eschewed a second free drink and FFP bought a CD from the band. (They are good. Happy Hour every Tuesday at Lambert's. Catch their act.) We headed out for the theater. We knew it would be crowded. But, of course, we jumped the line and got the seats no one realizes are the best in the house. (I'm not saying where they are. Figure out the Paramount for yourself.) We sat with a Canadian lawyer who actually says 'eh' every sentence or two. We met her at another film. The movie was about lawyers and the bar exam.

A Lawyer Walks into A Bar... is about the bar exam in California. It follows six people taking the exam and intersperses lawyer jokes, interviews with lawyers and laymen about lawyers. Although it was disjointed here and there it really had a lot of great information and the people we were following were interesting. Warning: Spoilers follow. One went to a sort of alternative law school and was finally not allowed to take the exam on some technicality. One person was taking the exam for the 42nd time. One person you were certain wouldn't pass, but she did. One you hoped would fail and she did. One guy was on his third try. One woman had a small child she left to her artist companion while she studied and you weren't surprised she passed. The companion's art was interesting. They had some footage of old time Texas lawyers at work (in spite of the CA bar exam they interviewed lawyers everywhere) and that was hilarious. They also talked to Joe Jamail. Can you say old time Texas power brokers?

One of the lawyers interviewed said that when she took the bar exam that a guy lost his breakfast just as the proctor said 'begin.' And she said everyone just ignored it and kept writing.

And so I dreamed that people were running around asking if you could find a person's DNA in their vomit.

If you are a lawyer or if you talk about going 'back to law school' you should see the movie. Others will enjoy it, too.

Well, today we may see two movies. And one of them is not a documentary. I sort of hate to break the record (12 full length docs, 1 doc short) but everyone needs to branch out. Besides this one has Eric Stoltz in it. Isn't he like the chief actor you know you've seen before of the Indie world?

Rain, Dreams and Computer Futility

The picture has nothing to do with this entry. The cool coffee shop graphics reflect, I think, Dean Keaton (aka 26th?) Street in Austin. The coffee shop may be gone but the grahpics may still be there. These things deserve preservation I think. I promise to show photos that have something to do with the entry in the future. Maybe.

It's supposed to rain in May. In Austin anyway. Last year I think the rain moved to the summer which was odd if a bit welcome. But this May is playing out its role as our rainiest month.

Yesterday we cut up wet live limbs that had crashed out of trees in the storm three days ago. We went to a dinner party last night that was punctuated with mopping up water and moving furniture when a leak developed. And there is the matter of a new roof at Dad's house which was in the path of the hail over a week ago. But that, I guess, was April.

I had a very weird dream last night. At first I was trying to find some elderly relatives to have dinner with them but there were all these restaurants and I didn't know where to go. Later, it appeared that the oldsters were trying to avoid me as if I were a small child who needed to be left at home. I tried to get some companionship with two guys who might have been related but in wandering around I found a convention of people who attached small tools to their faces. Yeah, that last part was really weird. But also there was this image of someone who could have been my mother (you know, in the dream) fooling with some costume jewelry with one hand while nervously trying to tell me why I wouldn't be coming along.

This morning this backup program I use isn't working. On the brighter side of computerdom, FFP thinks that AOL has decided to accept e-mail from him again. He was caught between our provider (RoadRunner Business) and AOL. Oh, wait. They are the same sad company.

I'm feeling a little weird this morning after all the storms, waking up from that dream, pondering computer foibles. I don't have any obligations today which means that I hope I'll get some exercise, get some things done to prepare for a trip I'm taking not so far in the future and, you know, totally get my life in order. I always have such high hope for blank spots on the calendar.