I was just outside, eating leftovers on my front porch. The house, when it was for sale, advertised said porch as a “farmer’s porch”. I am uncertain what that means. It is stained this bizarre burnt-orange UT color, which contrasts terribly with the sage green of the house. I hope to change it sometime soon. But I really hope to shingle the house soon, so that the color of the farmers porch doesn’t matter as much.

I was just talking to the stars, as I do. I was talking to my friend Mary Ann, too, about how much I miss her and wish I could talk to her. I wish I could talk to her about how weird everything got after she died and what bitches her friends were to me and to a couple of other friends. It was a mass disintegration and reorientation around a small crew of rich bitches. I guess it was inevitable. I asked the stars tonight: did I move to Maine, change my life, sell my house that I loved so much, because I hated my job and my best friend died?

The answer: not exactly. When I left Maine last time, it was like I left my art here. I still did art in Texas, but not to the same caliber or with the same intensity or regularity as I do here. Texas moves so fast and there are no seasons and there are so many highways; it is easy to just go with the flow and not examine yourself all that much. Also, in rapid fire over the course of three years, Cody’s grandma moved in with us, she died, there was a global pandemic, my dad died, and then Mary Ann died. This summer, Kate died and a few months ago, Michelle died and so did Brian. It has been terrible….let me rephrase. It has been bewildering to me. What happened that made Brian and Michelle so sad that they chose to leave us when they had taught me so much over the years? I can see Michelle smiling at me across a table, laughing, tossing her pretty blonde hair, laughing to keep from crying. Brian I can see spinning in a classroom, sharing music and asking us to think more deeply, to see connections. I remember the night he showed us True Stories when I was 15 years old, and didn’t understand it. I didn’t understand alot of what he taught us til I was in college. I have been listening to lots of Stars of the Lid and I feel that lessons are held within those songs, too….lessons to slow down and think. Think, and then do.

So Texas moved too fast, and Maine is so slow. We are changing into the fall and the air tonight is chilly and brisk and beautiful. The stars twinkle; there is a special fall-winter sharpness to the starlight that I love.

I am so thankful to have this time to investigate and think about what is going on with me. I am thankful to be able to ask myself: why am I so sad right now? Today I told my best friend that maybe I can’t be happy anywhere and he laughed and said something about how our dopamine levels are probably off or maybe we were both born in bad moods.

I think my new question is where the sadness is coming from; what is its origin story? Can I find it? I am sure I can. For so long, for years, it was my abortion that happened when I was 15 and the guilt I felt around it. I no longer see it that way; I now know that it was the right decision at the time. My new task is to examine these feelings of now and figure out where they come from. I think they have something to do with my job two years ago at Booker T Washington Elementary and working with two very challenging children. I didn’t know what to do, I am afraid that I hurt them, and I know that they hurt me, physically and mentally. I don’t even know how to describe those experiences yet, but am looking forward to working through some it with my therapist this fall. Cody says it wasn’t my fault and that I did what I was told to do and what I thought I had to do. I remember though, many moments when I just wanted to run away, to hide, to close my eyes and have it be over. Unrealistic.

I wonder what trauma response that experience touched on; it pressed a button to be sure. Lately I have been so interested in epigenetics and how sometimes our responses are not ours, but learned and coded in our genes to predispose us to bad moods, sadness, depression, anxiety, etc. I need to read about it. I am convinced there are generations of sad, scared people inside my soul. I have to tell them that they need to stay in their time period and let me explore mine.

I have been listening to old music, too. I wonder what is happening. What is the journey in my mind? I am hoping to remember to write down as much of it as I can.