Fuck It I'm 50

I am such a cheapskate in many ways.

In this instance I have loved this album ever since I saw the film it was composed for, “Paris Texas”, made in 1984, which I saw in the early 90’s on VHS. I fell in love with the soundtrack, much more than I did the film, but then I had little patience at that time as I had just given up smoking and was in a really, really bad mood. My ex-husband was an angel to put up with me during that period, though he did encourage me to drink more. At any rate, I fell in love with the soundtrack of the film and only just bought it this week. I was ordering a book for my sister’s birthday, and I impulsively added Ry Cooders’ “Paris Texas”, an Elvis Costello compilation, a DVD of “Natural Born Killers” and a book by Joan Halifax entitled “Being with Death”.

Not only am I thrilled to bits that I have actually purchased a birthday present in ample time to ship it, but I am very happy with all of the media I bought, and am consuming part of as I write.

When my Mom died she had denied herself almost everything, as did her mother. But yet, both women were able to pass on assets to their children. It is wonderful to set things aside for others, thoughtful, loving and generous. But when my mother died there were no trusts or allocations, which says to me she wasn’t thinking about utilizing them in any way at all. While she lived a very circumspect and thrifty, to the point of uncomfortable, lifestyle, both my sister and I encouraged her repeatedly to do more with what she had, but she pleaded the edge of poverty. A very confusing and complicated mindset, and one that I think has deep social and historical underpinnings, combined with depression and hoarding.

Funnily, while not a spendthrift, I am seen by my family as someone who does not manage my resources particularly well. My work costs a lot of money, and while I will hesitate for over 10 years to buy a CD I really want, I will pour thousands, if not tens of thousands of dollars into my work. I feel like I don’t have a choice if I want to achieve my goals. But I do not have a paid off mortgage, or an IRA, or a savings account. And for the first time in my life, I have begun to think about what I will do when I get older, how long will I be able to work? Will I make that money-making film that will allow me to command a decent wage in my craft? Will these museum tours take off and become a lucrative business? Will my media arts career finally push into the national and international limelight allowing my work to tour and pay me for it? Or will I be teaching part time classes at the local colleges, producing for others and living with roommates when I am 65 while I continue to make my art and films? And would that be so bad? From here it seems horrifying, but then if you had asked me at 35 if this scenario would be working at 50, I think I would have been horrified, and now that I am here, as irritating as it is, it’s really OK.

Cliché number, you fill in the blank, you never know what life is going to throw you. All I can do is work hard, have faith, be honest, try to battle my demons, as I work on helping others to battle theirs.

I am not so scarily depressed today. More functioning and less scattered. Some of this is due to a few emails I have received and that day-by-day, I am feeling better physically. I finished my antibiotics today, and have not taken any painkillers. Hopefully the nausea will go away now. And I saw the dentist and the healing is on track. And just as a gross aside, just as I thought I had deduced during the conversations during the surgery, they did take a chunk of bone from my jaw, to 1- push up the sinus membrane to create a gap so that they could 2- take my bone plug, pulverize it, mix it with cow and cadaver bone and then pack it back into the now larger space where the membrane had once lived, so that they could plant two screws into the new thicker, growing bone mass in my jaw for the eventual placement of my two new teeth. Cool and gross.

I have a cow and a dead person in my head. Hmm.

And just to bring back the darkness of yesterday in a light, if shitty kind of way…from a dear friend and mentor of mine:

Dear shit disturber Lise,

I consulted a book on dreams” feces have been a portend of good fortune or wealth…the infant perceives them as something they created and therefore something valuable.”  If you are dealing with other’s feces then you may be dealing with their wealth or power impinging on you.  Your work with the classes may be associated with accumulating wealth and prestige. There may be a conflict about being successful and wealthy through teaching. This could relate to your obvious ability to teach and inspire which results in the success you have a in teaching..creating your own empire etc. It’s impossible to see when you can’t stay awake… so falling asleep on your pot of gold is fascinating!

OK that is Lucy’s 10c analysis////////time to pay up!