Friday, Friday: a summery summary

Sometimes I think the very word Friday has the power to instantly zap my memories of the week out of existence. What, Friday? Uhhhh. Did I do anything at all this week?

Oh yes. I sure did. If I don’t stop to write it down, zap, it will disappear. Here is some of it!

Hard things.

My chronic pain has returned. After an absence of nearly two months. Hard to admit it when I thought it was gone. And now even harder to deal with it.

Related: not enough walks. Also related: bad consistency with pain medication.

Time has not been on my side this week in general! Not enough time with my husband or daughter. And coming this weekend: no time at all with my husband but plenty of time (and thus anticipated fatigue) with my daughter.

I read Havi’s lovely post, a message to her 17-year old self: A letter. Not really in a bottle. But sort of. The post: highly excellent as usual. My reaction: kind of saddened and pensive, thinking back to my own earlier selves and how much pain, shame, embarrassment and general ugghghgh-ness is attached to those times. I’m not ready to let go and understand and accept my choices back then. Which I realize is another way of saying that I’m not ready to fully accept my present time and self, either. That is a scary thing to admit and think about.

Good things!

My lovely friend Erin Fae is in town to visit! All week! And in another week she is moving to New Zealand! So this may be our last friends-time for a while, or at least until she convinces us to immigrate along with her (tempting! but oh my, the logistics make my brain ache).

Together Erin and I have gone on several tiny adventures around town, including to the amazing Sock Dreams (which has moved to an adorable new boutique in Sellwood!). Do you like socks? Well, this is where your brain goes shopping when you dream.

I’ve been spending good, deliberate time at work. Starting my day with no computer, just paper and pen to write about what I need and desire to accomplish. Along with that, severely limiting email time and Facebook time. I feel so, so much better for it.

I also hunted up a new comfy armchair for my office. It is old, ratty, and quite ugly, and thus exactly, perfectly perfect.

Reading things!

I have just begun Melanie Thernstrom’s The Pain Chronicles: Cures, Myths, Mysteries, Prayers, Diaries, Brain Scans, Healing and the Science of Suffering. It is pretty awesome. A perfect-for-me blend of science, history, research, and personal narrative. If pain is part of your life, I highly recommend this book.

Item in which my gamer-self and foodie-self converge: Penny Arcade‘s post/comic on the topic of giving your dollar to the game developer rather than to the evil GameStop empire. It made me think about the parallels between making ethical choices in object-consumption in the same way I choose to make ethical choices in food-consumption. This might be an obvious leap if you are buying, say, a hat knitted locally by your favorite knitter, but not so much for items that require large international development operations, like video games. Nonetheless, there is a very important ethical decision embedded in where you choose to spend your dollar.

Elana wrote Where’s my thing? and Mish wrote Youth Culture Killed My Puppy recently, both touching on the issue of getting swept up into the whole enthusiastic Do Your Thing! Make Money! Be Awesome! culture and how it’s easy to forget — hey, I don’t have a thing yet. I have this problem constantly. Ladies, thank you for telling it like it is, from different sides. Sometimes the message of Do Your Thing! is so loud it’s hard to remember the message of Listen to Your Own Voice is way, way more important.

Last notes!

Seen on Etsy: a pop-up Portland postcard! Oh my. So cute.

Also: if you are in Portland, you should come to this weekend’s Portland Zine Symposium! It’s why Erin Fae is here — you should come buy her awesome zine, Imaginary Windows #5! It’s about love and New Zealand and love and New Zealand.ย  If you’ve never been to a zine fair, it is highly worth it. Plus, the zine fest is at PSU and you can go to the big PSU Farmer’s Market at the same time, if you go on Saturday. Zines! PSU! 10-5pm! Hope to see you there, local friends.


One tiny prayer to end with. If you are in the practice of crossing your spiritual fingers for unlikely wishes, do me a favor and add mine to the invisible list: that my daughter’s naps will happen exactly when they need to this weekend. Listen universe, this would be a great gift. In return I will attempt not to berate nearby gods with my impossible Why Am I In Pain questions for at least…one week.


About jesse k.

Writer. Mama. Spy in the house of self-awareness. Occasional crafter, letterpress geek, and academic snob.
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4 Responses to Friday, Friday: a summery summary

  1. Larisa says:

    Hi there, Jessie!

    Just a quick note to say a) totally get the ‘Friday arrives and just like that all memory of the week disappears’ thing. Often actually keeps me from chickening as I give up trying to remember after staring at the screen for 5 minutes. ๐Ÿ™‚

    And, b) so sorry to hear about the return of chronic pain. Ouch. That makes life so much unnecessarily (or, perhaps necessarily – I don’t know and it really doesn’t matter anyway when it’s there) harder.

    Much love to you!

    • jesse k. says:

      Hi Larisa!
      Thanks for the love. I know you know about pain, too. I’m finding it is all crazily connected to everything else in my life — love, creativity, identity. Another post about all that (and my crazy weird Rally visions!) on Monday!

      Bon weekend to you, friend ๐Ÿ™‚

  2. Mish says:

    ๐Ÿ˜ฎ I got pinged!

    Jesse – Sending virtual love your way. I don’t deal with chronic pain myself but a close friend has fibromyalgia. Man, what’s the word… not sympathy. Not hugs. How about… vibe! I feel your vibe. Same chapter. Maybe same page. Not same paragraph. Although I have had continuous other pain for like four months now. So maybe same paragraph.

    Have a fabulous weekend!

  3. Pingback: Not hearing my own message: a Blah turns into an A-ha | my seed house

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