Did Anyone Else Hear That?

Posted on by carynjune

As I settle into my seat on the train this morning the bats flapping around in my belfry are working up a good head of steam. I wonder why the guy sitting in front of me always drinks a beer out of a paper bag on the train at 6:45 in the morning, or why I woke up with the theme from “Gilligan’s Island” in my head. I wonder if the new top I’m wearing today looks like I only paid $2.99 for it. I feel a little chill in the air and I think about last winter and what this winter might be like, my thoughts finally settling on, of all places, the week of my dad’s funeral. A huge snowstorm was predicted that week, and because we were going to be sitting shiva, the whole family brought enough baggage for several days, prepared to stay. My mom, my brother and sister-in-law and my nieces, my sister, my husband and I were all there, and the day after the funeral the snow came and we were stuck. My mom had slipped on a patch of ice a couple of weeks before, fracturing her pelvis and was still hobbling around with a walker. There was a lot of #%^* going on. But curiously, this long weekend remains both one of the saddest and one of the nicest memories. It is so rare that we don’t have one foot out the door; we have things to do, places to go. We want to visit longer, but we have to be somewhere, we want to miss the traffic, we have to get up early. For a few days as we made funeral arrangements, buried a husband, father, grandfather, we were together. We ate, we schmoozed, we spent time with family and friends who braved the weather, we ate again. We shoveled snow, we ate some more. We cried, we laughed, we told stories, we ate. I loved that weekend. That sounds bad, right? How is it possible that I sometimes wish we could go back to that long weekend full of sorrow. But not just sorrow. Love and memories and food and laughter. We laughed a lot, sometimes with tears in our eyes. All together. With the heaviest of hearts often comes the lightest peace, and we carry our losses on our backs, like wings.

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Luna, the Prototype carynjune

A Midsummer Night’s Dream

Posted on by carynjune

I’m going to veer a little off track here and talk about dreams. Specifically , recurring dreams. More specifically the recurring dreams I have, one of which I’ve been having since I was a kid. I assume we all have them and I would love to know where others go in their sleep, but I’m fascinated by the themes that keep popping up. There’s the “Restaurant dream”, where I’m working in a restaurant so enormous that there’s actually a mall inside the restaurant and it takes hours to get from one end to another. I’m always in the weeds and I can never figure out how to use the computer. That part is a variation on the “telephone dream”. Since I was little I’ve had this dream where I keep trying to dial the phone but can’t get through. Back then it was a rotary phone. Now it’s a smartphone that has so many games and pictures popping up that I can’t get to the phone part. Last night it combined itself with the “trying to get to Hollywood Blvd. so I can catch the bus home” dream. I’m on some main tree-lined street , the Santa Monica Freeway is somewhere to my left and I have to figure out how to get to the bus to get home. Often in this dream will appear elements of the “I graduated from Pitt years ago, but I’m still going to school for free” dream. This dream splinters into one of several recurring sub-dreams, either the “it’s halfway through the semester and I have no idea what my schedule is” or “I’m trying to find my dorm room” or the “I’m leaving campus and trying to find Hollywood Blvd. so I can catch the bus home…” And all of these can incorporate the “trying to walk” dream in which I feel like I’m practically crawling trying to walk, like I’m walking through invisible quicksand, not to be confused with the “I’m driving an old Chevy which has no pick up and almost no brakes” dream, which is the “trying to walk” dream with wheels. What is the point of all of this, you ask? Damned if I know. Are dreams our mind trying to work out a problem we have when we are awake? Maybe. But the interesting thing in my case, is that all of these dreams have an element of past lives, College, living in LA, driving my dad’s Impala, working in restaurants. I never dream about money, which occupies so much of my waking thoughts these days. I only rarely dream about my current work situation, or my current husband. If my subconscious is working to come up with solutions for today, why is it a squatter in the abandoned buildings of yesterday? I have choices. I can squat in yesterday, and daydream about the future, or I can see the past lives for what they are, a guide to understanding today and embracing tomorrow. And that’s a daydream come true.

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The Regression Series
carynjune

Step on a Crack…

Posted on by carynjune

Ok, you know how everyone’s doing this ice bucket challenge right now to raise awareness for ALS? Well I got challenged by a friend at work and I was a little stressy about it. I don’t have a backyard, who’s gonna film it if my hubby is working, why did she have to pick me? While this is all stewing in my over cluttered brain, a colleague at work, someone I didn’t knew, got struck and killed by a drunk driver crossing the street to get a cup of coffee at Dunkin Donuts, something I do all the time. I decide, instead of ALS to donate to Mothers Against Drunk Driving in his name. So, I film myself giving this heartfelt speech about how I’m not gonna pour ice water on my head and blah, blah, blah, and I think I’m off the hook. Oh no. You cannot believe how many people called me chicken!! I’m being all heartfelt and meaningful and…chicken? Now, I know I’m being teased with a lot of love, but there is a kernel of truth. Everybody wants to look good, accomplished, beautiful, interesting. Social Media ratchets that up a thousand percent. Look how great I am, look at what I do, who I’m with, where I’ve been. No cracks in the facade. I hate being made to look foolish. Hate it. It’s the reason I was a good actress, not a great one. I believe the talent was there. The ability to let go 100% and possibly make a complete ass of myself was not. So maybe there is a part of me that just didn’t want to look like a big drowned rat on Facebook. But as I watched one of the loveliest young women I know get doused, I was dazzled by her huge smile and I thought, ‘chicken, huh?’ So I grabbed my husband, corralled our super to hold the phone and made an ass of myself. But as I watched myself get soaked, I also saw the big dazzling smile. The cracks in the facade? Beautiful.

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Cracks in the Sidewalk #1, #2, #3
carynjune

No Such Thing as Free

Posted on by carynjune

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same things over and over and expecting different results. I should be locked up. Seriously, how many times am I gonna order a free trial of something and not pay attention to the fine print that says I have 14 days to cancel or I will be charged a zillion dollars. How many times am I gonna threaten the customer service guy with the Better Business Bureau because I just didn’t pay attention? As I sit on the train quietly sobbing because I really can’t afford to lose a zillion dollars, I wonder, is this it? Is this the time I’m gonna figure out that just because I don’t see the fine print, doesn’t mean it’s not there? And that nothing comes for free.

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How Much? carynjune

No Sudden Movements…

Posted on by carynjune

I learned recently that a dear friend from college lost her husband after 35 years of marriage. I never knew her when they weren’t married. When I heard I was understandably struck with sadness for her. But what is less definable is the low grade terror I’ve been walking around with since then. $)%# happens. And as we get older, the chances of scary, $)%#-y things happening increases. Our parents die, we lose our jobs, our health declines, our spouses die. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit. How do we balance the joy and adventure and life we still have yet to live with the scary, $)%#-y, inevitable stuff of getting older? We just do. We just hold out our arms and keep our balance as best we can. And have faith that if we fall, someone or something will be there to catch us.

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On the Fence carynjune

Great Expectations

Posted on by carynjune

I’m stuck. I started this blog as a kind of therapy. To navigate the paths and potholes of getting older, to find the excitement, the joy, the worthiness of myself, even as I sag a little more, creak a little louder, and really have to stay away from cruciferous vegetables. My jewelry is the physical side of the same self-exploration. I find I love writing. I love the give and take of finding the perfect piece to compliment the blog and writing something that perhaps inspires a piece if jewelry. Along the way, I’ve picked up a few fans, mostly people I know, but a few I don’t, which makes me feel good. I wrote twice a week for several months. And then, I ran out of pieces I hadn’t used, and I started to wonder if I wasn’t just repeating myself. I wrote less often and had less feedback when I did. I convinced myself that I had to write more, create more, or everyone would forget who I am. I got stuck. So. I’m sharing it with you all. And I’m repeating myself. Because, I’m stuck and a little scared and the heaviest expectations we have are our own.

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Baggage carynjune

I’m just gonna poke myself in the eye for a while

Posted on by carynjune

I’ve been commissioned to do a piece as a gift from someone who likes my work to someone else who may or may not like it. The theme is simple. Love, marriage, the melding of 2 families. Easy. I can knock this out in no time! I have this great idea of twisting the “bodies” of 2 people facing each other with the female trailing a bouquet behind her. I decide to do a small domed bead, silver front, copper back. It’s a little more delicate than my usual style and I think it will suit the wearer better. So I saw and dap and fire and add a bail for a chain and it’s pretty. Except I was a little heavy handed with the solder when putting the 2 pieces together and it’s all over the copper back. So I file and file and file and sand and file some more and the solder doesn’t budge. The copper underneath will file away before that %#^*ing solder. So I put a low flame to the back. Maybe I can fire it away, or spread it around so it looks like I did it on purpose. It almost works. Until I turn it over. And get this:

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Oops. I shall now start over. I try something a little different. I pierce a vine and leaves with a saw for the bouquet. Very pretty. Until I dap it into a dome and everything spreads until the delicate vine and leaves look like a bloated swan. Add leaves! More copper leaves! Now we have a swan who was raised by Indians about to devour our unsuspecting young lovers.

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Oops. I shall now start over. Screw the damn bead. I’ll stick with what I know best. Twist, fire, pierce a heart. Looking good…until…

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Oops. Melted her head off. The bride has been decapitated. I shall now start over. Funny how something so simple is so complicated. I get my best stuff from pain and suffering, controversy and crazy, tension and tsunamis, bad dreams and goodbyes. Those are easy. Love, joy, simple…that’s hard.

That’s some heavy ^%#*!

Posted on by carynjune

As my very wise cousin said to me recently, “if you keep one foot in the past and one in the future, you’ll pee on today.” This was profound. I’d be hard-pressed to say whether I spend more time regretting the past or fearing the future. Exhausting! And then I wonder why I don’t remember huge chunks of my past. I wasn’t there!!! I was too busy either beating myself up about what I said or did or holding imaginary conversations about what I was gonna say or do that I didn’t really say or do anything! Well, maybe I did, but I don’t remember…..and I really regret that. Yep. Its a vicious cycle. And it’s a heavy burden. I know we can’t change the past and we can’t predict the future. And quite frankly sometimes the present stinks. But it’s all we’ve got. And if we keep one foot in the past, we get depressed, and one foot in the future, we’re anxious, and either way, we can’t see today under all that pee.

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Baggage carynjune

What the….?! This isn’t chocolate!!!

Posted on by carynjune

I had a mammogram this morning and my radiologist was this very nice woman I’ve had before. She is very chatty and somehow we got to talking about the impending LIRR strike. So she says to me, “these people make almost as much as I do and I have a bachelor’s degree! They make, like, $80,000 a year!” It’s not bad enough she’s squeezing my boobs within an inch of their lives, she has to remind me she makes a hell of a lot more money than I do while she’s doing it! Now, I don’t want to appear, oh I don’t know, devastated, or anything, so I har-har a little and reply, “they make twice what I do, and I have an MFA!” She says, “are you a teacher?” And I say, “no, I work in the billing department of a taxi and limousine service. ” and she laughs. She thinks this is hysterical. So then I have to qualify…”well, I changed careers completely, and I’m actually a jewelry designer…” See, now she’s impressed! “Ooh. Aahh. I love jewelry. Do you have a card? ” Whew! Thank Goodness, I just narrowly escaped feeling inferior to someone! The truth is, we don’t walk in someone else’s shoes. We live the life we choose, as much as we’d like to blame everyone and everything else. There is always someone who has it better, and there are those that have it worse. Some will be lucky enough to live their dreams and some will find it hard to remember what their dreams were. Some will strive and sweat, and others will get out of breath reaching for the bag of M & M’s we know are hidden at the top of the pantry. Why is it so hard to not be defined by what we do? To look at ourselves and like who we are just because we are, and to not resent ourselves just because we do or don’t do. Just writing these words feels like marbles in my mouth. Foreign, unfamiliar, and a little stupid. The trick is to spit out the marbles and not replace them with the M & M’s.

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Life, interrupted carynjune

Get Back! I’ve Got a Weapon and I’m Not Afraid to Use It!

Posted on by carynjune

Hi. My name is Caryn and I am an addict. Drugs? Not interested. Alcohol? I do love me some tequila, but no. Smoking, sex, gambling? Done that, like it as much as the next guy, does Candy crush count? No, I find myself caught up in a weird whirlwind of vacation planning. It usually starts about a year ahead of time and consists of hours on travel websites figuring out when we’re going, where we’ll stay, how many cities we can fit into the time we’ve got and how much time will be spent on the bus getting around. I love this. I will book and rebook hotels endlessly. It’s almost as good as the vacation itself. And of course, while I’m on vacation, I’m allowed not to worry about money or how fattening anything is. I’m in this world of suspended reality, where I can do whatever I want and deal with the consequences later. While I plan and travel and eat and spend, I feel like I’m having this big, full life! But later never actually comes. At 56, I should never be woken by the ding of an incoming text from Chase telling me my account is overdrawn. This feels bad. So I move money from my credit cards to my bank account and feel ashamed and scared. This feels bad. And I sit and plan the next vacation while I work my way through a box of Weight Watchers ice cream bars. This feels…surprisingly great! Until it doesn’t. What’s the investment? What’s the allure of the perpetual shame and fear? Maybe it’s the someday. As long as I have plans to get my shit together someday, I can’t die. I’ll live forever! But my somedays grow smaller and my debts grow bigger. My waistline expands. And I mutter “someday…someday!” like a talisman to ward off the monsters, while I keep running. Not letting the monsters get me.
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The Monster Under the Bed carynjune