thoughts

Blue Noise

signal and noise

When I tune into my incessant brain noise that, during this period of the Atila virus, has been even more virulent than usual, I find that some bits are of interest as they buzz by. I have come to see, though, that, if I spend too much time alone and if I have no outlet for this constant racket in my head, I will eventually become, in a word, nuts.

I have decided, then, to present you with a snapshot of how some of these jagged thought fragments, often unremembered just seconds after I notice them, can spill into the material world where I am living out my days. I do this in the hope that, by recording a little of what I notice, I will be spared from acting upon at least one or two of my less noble impulses. This desire to protect myself from myself first emerged when I was very young and had no way of expressing bewildering emotion other than by crying for hours on end. When I was a little older, though, I found that writing helped me to escape my darker sides, at least somewhat. At that time, finding myself isolated inside a home with two raging lunatics who were much stronger, louder, and larger than I was, I began to express my feelings and thoughts by writing them into poems and short stories of grief, fortitude, and escape.

So, fearful thoughts, of which there have been an awful lot: Although I have been terribly afraid of this virus, I only am just becoming aware of how debilitating the fear can be by seeing how it manifests in the mundanity of my daily life. For one, I have become increasingly absent-minded. Yesterday, for instance, I put my eyeglasses in the refrigerator and then spent an inordinate amount of time searching for them. This included a trip down the elevator to my car in the garage, for which I had suited up with personal protective equipment, such as it is (consisting as it does of one overstretched paper mask, which I have used for five weeks now, and a pair of gapingly porous exfoliating gloves for the shower, which were the only gloves I could find at the store). Eventually I found my glasses — but only when I next went to the fridge for some food.

Then today, as I was removing clothes from the dryer, I saw that I had added an individual packet of liquid detergent (instead of a dryer sheet) to the clean, sopping load. Fortunately, the liquid remained inside the tidy packet while the clothes went through their 45-minute, hot-air tumble, though it had become quite sudsy and appeared to have morphed into another chemical mixture altogether.

Afraid of going out to buy food, I have had to become more efficient at shopping for a pandemic. The first week I ate most of the food I bought within a day or so (and was especially focused on inhaling, pretty much right away, the special treats I brought home) — after which I berated myself for being weak and without will. Since I was slow to learn my lesson, the second week was a repeat of week one, and almost immediately I had to venture out shopping again. The third week I thought that, to stretch meals, I would cook up batches of things at the urging of some cruel inner voice that told me I was lazy and entitled for buying expensive, pre-packaged meals, soups, and salads at Whole Foods. Around mid-week that week, I made a rice, chard, and ground turkey dish that was truly inedible, and I literally threw the entire revolting thing into the garbage. Within a few days, I had to venture out shopping again. You can imagine the self-judgment that followed me.

During week four, I saw that I had been learning from my missteps. I bought enough pre-made meals, soups, and salads to last quite a few days because, honestly, I realized from my previous fiasco that I was not going to be motivated to cook healthful, time-consuming meals for just one excessively frightened soul, not when thousands upon thousands, near and far, were deathly sick and dying. No. It would be enough for me simply to nourish my body, I thought. Putting things away in the refrigerator, I mentally decided what I would eat on a given day, and I told myself that, for my health and for the health of those around me, I would try to stick to that plan so I would not need to go to the market again for a while. The first day of the shopping, I ate the peanut butter cookie I bought. It was delicious. I saved the chocolate chip cookie for the day after the shopping. Progress.

A few words about fear and toilet paper::I have been obsessed with toilet paper since the outbreak began in this country — not having enough, or any, of it and, when I have some, worried that I will run out of it all too quickly. Prior to the virus crisis, I had gotten very good at finding and stocking up on the softest and longest-lasting rolls I could find because, more often than not, manufacturers have been in the business of selling the least amount of toilet paper possible per roll for the most amount of money they could fetch. Now, grocery stores near me either have none on their shelves or receive piddling daily shipments that are sold by 8:00 am. Some days ago I managed to show up bright and early at the one market near me that gets and guards its supply by placing it at the front of the store, where hoarders and other cheaters can be closely watched. I bought one package, all that was allowed per customer, and was gleeful about the 16 rolls I was certain would last me for a good long time. Not to be too explicit, but to make a point about capitalistic greed, I have been going through about one roll a day. If I am especially careful and thrifty, I can probably make it last for about two days.

In desperation, I went on Amazon to buy in bulk. There wasn’t much available, although businesses that sell toilet tissue to large-scale, industrial operations are now selling giant-sized toilet paper rolls to individual consumers because many of their customers currently have few, if any, employees in need of bathroom breaks. I could have bought a package of four rolls, which, when placed side by side, would likely have taken up the width of a double bed. I opted, instead, for a package of 10 rolls, which, judging by the marketing photo, seemed normal-sized. As you probably know, during the pandemic Amazon is no longer shipping things out at the speed of light, but my order was shipped fairly quickly because it is an essential item. Hopefully, it will arrive tomorrow, at which point I will have to make a mad dash to wherever DHL has deposited it.

Every day since placing my order, I have worried about whether it would be delivered to the secure, locked location in the apartment community in which I live, where it stands less of a chance of being stolen than if the delivery person decides to drop it, alone and unprotected, outside my large building or outside the shuttered leasing office. (I have imagined that the words “TOILET PAPER” would be stamped neonically across the entire surface of the package.)

In any event, the order is likely to be stolen quickly by others even more fearful than I am — that is, if I don’t get to it first. So I waste time wandering around in my brain, trying to plot the best strategy I can think up to ensure I get my hands on what has become in these times one- or two-ply gold.

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Tea for two

Val Pitchford, Tea for Two (Hungerford Gallery)

For quite some time I have been relatively silent here. I could say much has changed, but you would not know it necessarily: As always, I seek solitude wherever I can; typically wear loose, dark clothing, with black as a preference; and remain folded in melancholy, though generally I can keep a sense of irony about things.

I also remain steadfast in the love and devotion I feel for my daughter, and I still believe I am called to serve the fragile. If years back you had asked me how I felt about my father, my mother, and my brother, I would have said that I loved them but that I might have died from their dark betrayals. I would say the same today but would add that I am not an innocent either.

Still I have more and more come to accept my nature and my past: I have made so many grave mistakes, particularly in relationships. Yet, I do not think I could have done otherwise, and perhaps I should not have done otherwise. More and more, too, I am roiled by rage as I watch men (and, sadly, women) who do not seem to possess even a trace of self-knowledge hurtle us toward the end of days. But I am less and less afraid of my anger. In fact, I can welcome him in now and can delight in pouring us a cup of tea. He and I have much to discuss.

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Changes Afoot

a foot

Some of you might have noticed that Ruminationville has a new look. And, so it does. Three years ago I chose a WordPress theme (template) that struck my fancy, but I knew next to nothing about WordPress or about website design. Though I feel great affection for the design I chose, I recently found myself wanting something a little more expansive, unbounded—and au courant, as we French like to say.

I was able to transfer all of the content from my previous site—even the many photos and videos I have posted. A big hurrah for that. You might notice, though, that some of the images—particularly with older posts—seem too small or otherwise wonky for this new design; the same goes for alignment of certain poems with the visuals and the titles. In the coming days I will be addressing these minor snags as best I can.

I’m also hard at work on another website, a writing & an esl tutoring business developed with “the very busy” in mind. Among other writing services, I will be offering “creative consultations” for those who would like to discuss their works of fiction, creative nonfiction, and poetry as well “academic consultations” for those who are writing masters’ theses and doctoral dissertations. And, some clients might be interested in the blog posts, articles, LinkedIn profiles, website content, newsletters, press releases, resumes (and more!) that I can write for them.

I am also very excited about expanding my existing tutoring services for adult, non-native English speakers. In-person English language sessions will continue to be available for those living in the Washington, DC, metropolitan area, but I will soon be able to offer Skype sessions to those living around the globe. My focus will continue to be on helping English language learners develop or improve their speaking, listening, reading, and writing/grammar skills in ways that will be relevant to their own lives and experiences.

I will be launching the site soon and will let you know when you can mosey on over and have a peek.

UPDATE: I have launched leslielass.com. Go and have a look!

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